#he goes there to catch glimpses of you but also to have a taste of your passion

[1nthedarknessofthenight]

﴾ let me blow your mind

pairing: badboy!han jisung x f!reader

genre: one-shot, high school au, smut

word count: 10,1K

warnings: a lot of marking! ⋆ groping! ⋆ biting!⋆ light!spanking ⋆ experienced!han and inexperienced!reader ⋆ dry humping ⋆ oral (f. and m. receiving) ⋆ dirty talking (han has a nasty mouth) ⋆ cunnilingus ⋆ squirting ⋆ face!cumshot

summary: you noticed him watching you from afar, though it never occurred to you why han jisung, the school’s bad boy, would be watching a shy, nerdy girl like you, but before you can even blink, you are thrown into a world of pleasure and right into his greedy hands

request by @khandzilla

──────────────────────

He thinks you are doing it on purpose. Your teeth nibbling, chewing at your pencil. Pink tinted lips, wrapping around it and staining it — and he just knows that the lip balm you always apply is strawberry flavored. You always sit at the front of the class, like the good student that you are and even from the back of the room, he can see the sweat glistening on your skin. In his opinion schools should not be open at such weather, but he isn’t that against it, because he could see more of your white thigh highs sliding down your yummy thighs. Such a good student — there has never been a day when he hasn’t seen you wearing the school uniform. You always made it look so good and especially when the weather was too much your luscious skin to handle. The sleeves of your white blouse are rolled up and to his delight few buttons undone at the top, but to his displeasure hair not put up to show off your neck. Everyday he tried to at least catch a glimpse of new skin.

But it wasn’t enough for him. He ignores his friends snickering, the loud noise disturbing his thoughts for a split second. His head falls into his hand, leaning to the side when of the students moves before him and into his view. He is only pulled away from his thoughts when you turn around to look at the teacher. He only at that realized that the teacher is walking around the class to hand out their graded tests. Han doesn’t even have to see it, he knows that he totally blew it. It didn’t matter, l the only good grade that matters is yours.

No, he doesn’t want to say that it’s a crush. To be honest it’s a borderline obsession. He wouldn’t go to school so often if you weren’t there, he doesn’t even care about keeping up his reputation anymore. He had basically memorized your whole schedule — you are always the first person in class, glasses almost falling off your nose as you are always buried in some textbook, you are always eating few pieces of fruit during the third break — strawberries, just like your lip balm, are your favorite, then your are eating lunch at the far corner of the cafeteria where you are looking out of the window and mostly, he memorized how you would always push your skirt down — how your tits would strain against your blouse and how you would apply your lip balm with that cute pout — there’s a individual obsession just with your lips and he wonders if they taste just as sweet as the look…and from what he has seen, you are also super sweet. He doesn’t talk to you, he wants to, but it’s way more fun making you flustered when you catch him staring. He wonders if you like him, because you are shy around literally everyone, however he wants to say that he is the one. He didn’t talk to you, just observed you, waiting for the golden opportunity to arrive and when the teacher goes to hand him his test he sees it.

Han notices the teacher’s frown before even seeing his score. “Do something about it, buddy…” Sighs out Mr. Lee, his tone almost sounding fatherly. Pity is the last thing Han wants, and he knows his friends won’t offer it anyway. They laugh at his score, loudly cheering when one of them matches it. Zero, in bold red and circled, just as he expected. He’s never been good at this sort of thing — put him in an English class and he will score the highest, when it comes to a physics test, only one person can do that.

Han looks up from the paper, eyes going back to the front and he has to hide a small smile appearing on his face, when he sees you already looking at him. Just from the corner of your eye, subtly, masking it as if you are looking at the teacher who happens to reach your desk at that moment. You tried to be sneaky, but when you met his eyes, you instantly look away, almost giving yourself a whiplash. “Good job, Y/N.” Says the teacher and you flash him a small smile of gratitude, putting your 100% marked test on your desk. And then Han sees it.

Maybe it’s easier than he thought.

────

You already sprayed the entire capsule of your portable perfume on yourself. You are sweating from head to toe and you for the first time wished that you were wearing anything other than your uniform right now. Even if your tie is loose, it feels like it’s choking you, scratching at your neck. You also hope no one, especially him, can smell your nerves. You feel like you died a little when you caught him staring again and you know, you can’t possibly face him anymore. You are already in rush you want to say, few hours of classes still ahead of you, so when you dash out the door that’s your excuse. Though can’t help, but wonder if he will ever talk to you and just as the thought crosses your mind, you hear someone call out to you.

“Y/N—“ The well known voice sings out your name. You feel your heart jumping, stopping in the packed hallway. You feel so many eyes on you right now, the cheerleaders few feet away from you, glaring daggers at you. You are already feeling hot, but now you are sweating just from the way he said your name. To be honest you thought he didn’t even know you which is kind of stupid — you always catch him looking at you, but you want to say that it is just a coincidence every single time. You slowly turn around and you breathe out shakily when he literally jumps right in front of you.

Han breathes heavily, chest rising up and down and you can’t look at him when his shirt is so open that you think he should be dress coded. Your eyes fall onto his tie instead, hanging low on his neck, but you still see the bright smile on his face. You don’t even want to think about how you two look next to each other. You — hugging your textbooks close to your chest as much as possible to calm your racing heart, hair sticking to your sweaty skin and him — shining brighter than a star, effortlessly gorgeous and confident in his stance.

He pushes his hair back, eyes wide to get a full look at you. You are slouching a little to appear smaller and he almost coos at how cute you look, however his eyes go a little lower and not in innocent manner. No one can judge him for looking down your blouse when your tits are perfectly smashed together and thinking about licking your salty sweat off them. His nose is hit with a big whiff of your perfume and it’s so intoxicating that he almost doubles over. When you push your glasses up on your nose, it pulls him out of the magic spell your perfume held him in. “Are you free after school?” He should’ve said it differently, but the look on your face was definitely worth it.

Your lips parted, finally glancing up at him. You can’t believe those words left his mouth. You feel your heart pounding, ears ringing. However when you give a small glance your eyes drift behind him instead. “Ehm…” Your eyes fall on his friends, leaning on the lockers and staring right at the two of you. They have their lips turned up into smiles and you hope it’s not what you think it is. This can’t be just some kind of joke, because when your eyes drift back to Han his eyes are shinning with hope. “Why?” You ask, quietly not being able to look at him fully from how intensely his stare is.

“Well—“ Han notices your attention drifting off, eyes going back and forth between him and something behind him. He frowns, turning around to look back and when he sees his friends he almost screams. They are visible making you uncomfortable and even if their smiles were nothing, but teasing, he doesn’t want you looking anywhere else than him. With the first word still on the tip of his mouth, he blocks your view with his body, resulting in him standing right in front of you. “You’re really good at Mr. Lee’s class.” Han could have gotten to the point a long time ago, but he purposely makes this small conversation last longer, just to shake you up a bit more.

You feel heat traveling to your face, eyes glaring at his tie, but now he is way closer. The fact he is not afraid to walk into your personal bubble should make you uncomfortable and it in some point does, but it also awakens butterflies in your stomach. You become giddy inside and you can’t hide the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, but it quickly fell at his intense look. “Thank you.” You whisper in question, perfectly done eyebrows rising to your forehead at disbelief. Han bites his lips, just like you are doing right now, completely unknowingly and he swears he can taste the strawberries on your mouth from here.

“Will you tutor me?” He asks and you have to step back a little to glance at him better, because you can’t breathe from how close he keeps getting. You pause at the ‘will’, he already knows that you won’t say no. “I suck so bad at physics and if I don’t do good at the next exam, I’m done. Mr. Lee said you are the only one who can safe me.” He says, exaggerating with his big expressions. He huffs, frowns and mostly looks at you with big puppy eyes.

Han drowns in your bashful state when he says the last sentence, you trying not to melt at his feet from the tone of his voice. You are just so overly taken back by this interaction that it is kind of hard to fully take it all in. You are already shocked that he walked up to you, talked to you and now he wants — no, needs your help? You don’t know if you can take it. “I-I—“ Your mouth is open, words at the tip of your tongue. However your mind is empty as you are not even sure what to say to him. Your mind goes back to his smirking friends and then to those jealous cheerleaders whose glares you still feel on your back. So much attention at once and mostly from him. Han waits, hands in his pockets, but both of you already know what you are going to say next. “I-I guess, I can—“

Han claps, the sound startling you, but he doesn’t see it as he looks at ceiling in greatfulness, though you don’t know it is mostly because of something else. “Thank you, Y/N! You’re a savior!” You shrink back at his loud voice, few people passing by you whispering to themselves. You feel hot, ready to pass out. You didn’t say yes, but also not no, you are not really sure what you wanted more — to go home after school or tutor him, well, he seems to know the answer for you. “Meet me before the school after?” Han says, already jumping back to walk back to his friends.

Your shuttering is cute, glasses fogging up at the bottom from your heavy sigh. “Oh, yeah!” Your voice breaks at the end and you want the floor to swallow you whole, but he only flashes you one of his dazzling smiles at the sound.

You stand there frozen in your spot, looking at him with small disbelief. You are already full of anxiety from just imagining yourself talking to him, he on the other hand only feels delight. He beams brightly, ignoring the remarks from his friends to look back at you for the last time. His eyes fall to the back of your thighs, hand keeping up your right sock up and he just can’t wait to see your skin up close again.

────

You are for the rest of the day on high alert, but at the same time and for the first, you see yourself not paying too much attention to your classes. Your hands are shaking, lip quivering. You don’t see Han anymore till lunch, however your eyes are staring into your book, though not even reading. He watched you the whole time, like usually, but other than lunch he didn’t go near you. You noticed that, but maybe you are just delusional, maybe those other times he actually wasn’t really everywhere near you, just like now. Maybe you are actually reading too much into things.

Han on the other hand really tried hard not to go near you. A lot of people were whispering about how there’s something going on between him and the nerdy, shy girl — well, not yet, he wants to say. He stays away from you to make you even more nervous and after school when he finally will meet up with you, you will be all shaken up, shuttering cutely like you always do.

When you stepped out of the school, the sun was already setting. You felt exhausted, but at the same time not at all, because you know you will not be able to relax because of him. For whatever reason…You stood at the end of the stairs to the main entrance, watching people walk by you, chatting. You kept looking down at your phone, reading the time minute by minute. It was getting really late for you and your heart kept beating faster the longer you stood there.

Han thinks he literally breathes just because of you. He can’t help those feelings and the thoughts running through him when he watches you stand there under the stairs, waiting for him. Your hair is tucked behind your ears, glasses hanging low on your nose and he melts when you nervously shift your weight from foot to foot. The way his heart skips a beat when he sees you move to turn around and walk away, breaks him and yet again it pulls him out his thoughts. He can’t let you get away, not when you are already so close, so he runs to catch up with you.

You hear heavy footsteps behind you and you are again startled by a booming voice. “Y/N, wait!” Han yells at you and your ears ring from just how loud he always is. You turn subtly around and he shakes his head at your unusual posture. It looks like you are guarding yourself. “Where are you going?” He asks you, puffing out air.

Shrugging softly, your eyes fall on the lit lamps around you and then the Moon. “Well it’s kind of late…” You are surprised by your leveled voice, but when you turn to look at him your voice dies at the end. You hate when you do that, it’s so embarrassing and even more when infront of him. You are actually surprised he even showed up, because you were really starting to think, it really was a joke after all, but how could you think that? He is so sweet…however, when looking at you, he thinks the exact opposite of himself.

Han is starting to panic a little at your words, walking around you to get a better look at you. “Huh?” He exclaims, glancing at his reflection in your glasses. “You promised to tutor me.” He pouts then, furrowing his eyebrows. You don’t hear the little fake tone in his voice, but his hurt expression melts your guard a little.

You didn’t promise him anything or did you? You can’t even think right now. “The library is closed.” You state softly.

He fights the urge to smirk, smiling only a little. “Yeah, I know.” He definitely knows. “I was thinking about going over to my place…to study of course.” Han drinks up your flustered state, the moment the words left him, you turned away so he wouldn’t see your face of shock. He can taste your shyness on his lips already and he is slowly starting to shake in excitement when you turn back to him.

The thought of going back to his place…it never crossed your mind. You definitely can’t handle being in a basically locked room where there would be just the two of you. On the other hand, you can’t say that the thought isn’t making you curious. “I don’t know…” You mumble, glancing at him briefly.

“Come on—“ He pressed, taking a bold step closer to you. “I won’t keep you up late.” Now there’s that smirk and when you timidly nod, he wants to kneel before you right then and there. The excitement pumping in him almost makes his veins burst, cheeks flushing just by the thought of you sitting on his bed and talking with that cute voice of yours. “Come on then, I won’t bite. It will be just the two of us, don’t worry.” Of course, he didn’t pay his roommate to stay out of their shared flat tonight.

‘Yeah, that’s what worries me’, you think. He walks you two back to his place, you keeping a small distance from him and he definitely didn’t like that. He lets you though, he would let you do anything and everything. Walking with you, his steps are quick, just to have more time with you inside his room. He really wants to know what is going on in the little head of yours. He wants to get under your skin, know your biggest likes and dislikes, fears and desires — what makes you shake. Han is acting crazy around you and you don’t even see it. You are so smart, but also such a dummy...He needs to show you, make you feel what you deserve.

The walk is silent, but it doesn’t take long before you two are standing in the elevator, waiting for it to lift you up to the 10th floor. It’s unusually quiet, no parties, no one in your way and he sees it as a blessing. You are not looking at him, even when you finally get into his shared apartment, but he knows he has your attention. He licks his lips, dry and thirsty and his whole head is spinning when he enters his room with you right behind him.

Your eyes go around his room, genuinely surprised by how clean it is. The walls are full of movie posters, musicians — your eyes land on his desk which is messy on the other hand. When you see the known magazine peeking out of the scattered papers, you instantly feel heat rising to your cheeks. You realize that he has been watching you the whole time when you glance at him and you are weakened by his look. His fingers play with the blue tie around his neck, nibbling at the material, loosening it and you breathe out sharply at the sight.

He finally has you in his room, he couldn’t believe it. “Take a seat.” Han says, gesturing to his unmade bed. Your eyes widened a little and his on the other hand close a little when your fingers just barely graze over his duvet.

“Here?” You mumble, playing with the strap of your shoulderbag.

He laughs, he has to. “Don’t act like you have never been in a boy’s room before.” He snickers, pulling out his phone from his pocket, but he doesn’t hear anything from you. His heart beats faster and he can’t help, but look somehow excited by your silence. “Fuck…really?” He is in disbelief, looking at you, just as you take a seat on the edge of his bed.

He is smiling wide and you thankfully don’t see it, attention on your sock clad feet instead. You are embarrassed to admit it and also too shy to lie. You can’t never lie or say no, it angers you a little, but Han could do that for you if you let him. He could be your voice, yours everything if you let him. Seeing you sitting on his bed, arched back as you fumble inside your bag is not helping him keep his sanity. Your tucked blouse rides up, exposing the skin of your lower back and he has to distract him by going through his playlist.

When you take out your small notebook and your phone, you suddenly hear a soft hum of music from behind you. Turning around, you see Han putting down his speaker which is playing a way too inappropriate song to listen to while studying. The low bass makes you vibrate and the thoughts of doing something completely different fill your mind. Why does he have to keep doing that? He is getting under your skin with his smooth moves and what you want to say, flirting. You don’t even know what it stands for really, maybe playing music while walking to your bed to lay down you means nothing.

“Won’t that be distracting you?” You wonder out loud, eyes still on the speaker even if he goes to sit on the bed with you.

“Not really.” He says, while looking at you. “Just don’t want you to hear my thoughts.” He whispers and you shiver at the tone of his voice, however you masked it well by shuffling a little more up on the bed. His eyes immediately fall down your shirt, watching your tits jump from your moves and he swears he can see the lace of your bra — was it baby pink?

“So what do you need help with?” You cough in your hand not to shutter again and it worked out well for you. You push for glasses up your nose, fanning your skirt so it drapes over your thighs, but from his point of view, he still can thankfully see your skin.

“Everything, honestly.” He laughs shortly.

You nod. “Let’s start with the basics then—“

You swear, he does it on purpose. Pushing his hair back, leaning back on his hands, looking with you with that twinkle in his eyes again and again. You don’t know what it is, you are not sure if you want to know. Every time your mouth would open, his attention drifts away, yet he looks only at you. You can see it in his eyes that he is somewhere else and it definitely reflected in his answers. Every one was incorrect and you don’t want to say that you are starting to get frustrated, but you explained everything to him at least twice, you told him a couple of good ways how to solve the questions, but no.

Also, something else didn’t help you keep your cool either. His room was awfully hot, even worse than a school’s classroom. You want to say it’s the weather, not those fuckboy-like songs — his playlist is vile or the way his also sweaty chest glistened in the city’s lights. The soft night breeze couldn’t reach your skin nor the sounds of cars under his window, you were really starting to drown in yourself. Han kept getting closer and closer, subtly, but after half an hour, it became clear to you. He was sitting in the middle of the bed, like the textbooks, while half of your ass was basically hanging out of the bed. If he gets any closer you think you will start to hyperventilate.

Han of course noticed your behavior. It surely must be because of him, your voice kept going lower, quieter, the more he shuffled closer to you. Your skin was almost drenching with sweat and the way your perfume flooded his whole room, he thinks, he will never open his bedroom window ever again. He can’t say that he also isn’t sweating and you definitely noticed that, because your eyes kept drifting to his naked chest. Maybe he should’ve changed and maybe he should’ve let you borrow something, so he then could cuddle with it later, but it would only ruin his fantasy.

He smiles again at your cute frown of frustration, it’s nice seeing something different on your face. Your pretty voice starts to melt more into the song, the more he looks at you. Never had been in a boys room…huh, he wonders if you have ever been with anyone before. One side is telling him yes, because — fuck, look at you. The school’s uniform looks on you way more sinful that it should and also your plush body, pink lips and pretty eyes hidden behind your glasses. Also you are a sweet person! Why does he keep forgetting about that? You are way more than your looks, you have brains and also charm that you don’t even know about. He wants to do more with you than just this, way more, but his filthy thoughts win over. On the other hand, you are just so shy, has someone ever tasted you? Suck at your pretty neck and tits, grabbed a handful of your ass? Tongue fucked you? Pulled your hair? Choked you? Bit you, mark you up…

“Why are you so tense, Y/N?” He cuts you off, not even realizing it, till your lips press into thin line. “Loosen up a little.”

You sigh, putting down your notebook to pull at your tie. “It’s just so hot…” You feel sweat dripping down your back a little, inner thighs glued together, because you didn’t change your position once in fear you would flash him. ‘Pity’, he thinks, staring at you while pulling off your tie with your painted nails — baby pink, just like your lips.

You literally have him wrapped around your finger, how can you not see it? Maybe if you would for once look at him in the eyes for long enough than you would see it. His eyes like to always drift lower and he just can’t help it when you look like that. Why do you? And why do you not see it yourself? Fuck, he wants to show you how pretty you are…He can’t go any longer, his mind is already all over the place and when he sees a glimpse of your bra, he has to fist his pants. Baby pink, like he imagined — he wonders if it matches.

“Yeah, that blouse is…tight.” Han almost moans out loud, but he thankfully bites down his on lip just in time, silencing that sound. Your own eyes drift to your blouse and then back at him. “You can take it off—“ He voices out his thoughts.

You are bewildered, in disbelief from what he just said. He doesn’t even seemed a little bit moved by his own words, leaning back on his hands, eyes fully on you. Did he look into your textbook at least once? Why didn’t you realize that it was on the same page the whole time? Maybe you were too occupied with trying to sound cool and collected and his nonstop staring didn’t help at all. “I don’t think you are even paying attention.” You sigh, playing with the fabric of your skirt.

“How so?” He asks, eyes going over your body and trying to memorize how it looks in the softly lit room.

“Well, you didn’t answer any of my questions right…” Which doesn’t mean, he was not paying attention, but his eyes tell you that you are right. In your state of pushing up your glasses again, you jump slightly in your seat when he sifts his weight to lean closer to you. “Why are you so close?” You ask, lump forming at the back of your throat.

Han stops moving, sitting right infront of you and trying to have a better look at eyes, but there is only the reflection of your phone screen in your glasses, preventing him from doing so. “Ask me again and if I answer correctly, I’ll get a treat.”

You frown. “Why?” You ask him.

“Motivation.”

There is short silence, the only noise being the music coming from his speaker. You take a small look around his room, squirming in your seat. “What do you mean by a treat? I don’t have any sweets…” You say, confused.

He wonders if you are truly so innocent and oblivious or if you are just playing with him. The sincere tone of your voice though told him everything he needed to know. A treat…he bets your lips taste like one. Han moves even closer, moving away your textbooks and you watch him with careful eyes. “I meant you.” He says smoothly with a cheeky smile and you are smacked across the face with his words.

He surprises you way too much and each time it’s a bigger surprise. You almost choke on your own spit, looking at him with wide eyes. “Oh! Oh, I-I…” And you are shuttering again, like always, but he never seems to mind. You are definitely not capable of talking right now, no words running through your mind, only him. Your hand grasping your phone is shaking and he at that points down at it.

“Ask me.”

You take a deep breath, a couple actually, because it’s seems like you can’t find it. Han’s stare is hard, unmoving from your eyes and you have to look down at your phone. Your thumb hovers over the screen, asking yourself if you should keep going. You are already feeling goosebumps on your sweaty skin, just from the thought of him doing something to you, but…what if he doesn’t answer correctly? Han can’t be serious right now…With your heart hammering against your chest, you scroll down the list of questions, trying to find the hardest one, because you don’t know what you would do if he answers it correctly. You don’t know if you want him to, you don’t know what you want. What does he want? You can’t help, but be curious and scared at the same time.

Han can see your internal struggle, but nothing about your body language is telling him, you don’t actually want him. “When a police officer uses a radar gun to measure a vehicle’s speed, what type of speed is measured? “ You ask, blinking at him in the lightly lit room, voice small. You actually think that this question is not even that hard, but seeing him having trouble with the other ones, you are curious what his answer will be.

Han fights to not smirk, while staring at you and he likes how your breath hitches when he confidently pushes all the things on the bed to the floor. “Instantaneous Acceleration.” He leans closer to you and you are having hard time to back away, watching him with mouth open as he puts your phone away.

“That’s correct…” You whisper in small disbelief, because you are starting to think he’s been playing with all along. However you can’t think much about it when he goes to sit right infront you.

Han is shaking inside when he leans over you, you fanning your pretty eyelashes at him and he swears you have never looked prettier. His eyes as well as his hand fall to your exposed leg. He hears the short, sharp intake of air, feeling goosebumps appearing on your skin as he trails his hand up and down. You are silent, squirming a little from how cold his hand is, but he quickly warms it up on your own skin. You are looking at him with big eyes, lips parted as his other hand comes to caress your cheek. Your chest keeps rising rapidly and you know, he can feel your skin lighting on fire. You watch his eyes fall to your lips and yours to his by reflex. “Just a kiss, Y/N.” His voice is like honey, his breath hitting your lips.

The hand on your leg stops at the meat of your thigh and when you feel his thumb rubbing small circles on your cheekbone you are in a daze. “Just one…” You whisper back, mostly to yourself, playing with your fingers nervously.

Han was right — you do taste like strawberries. You are sweet in taste and also in your moves. With your hazy state, he sees the opportunity to let his hand travel to your waist, squeezing immediately. A small noise of surprise falls from lips, just as he leaned to kiss you softly. However the moment he tastes you, the moment he feels the subtle touch of his lips over yours, the moment you made that sound — he needed more. The hand on your waist pulls you closer and at the same time, he presses his lips harder against yours.

You are trying to catch your breath through your nose, but it’s only taken away from you when moves his head to the side to lick into your mouth. Your head is empty, hands gripping at the fabric of your skirt as you try to at least keep up with him. His lips mold into yours, spit gathering in his mouth from hunger. When you poke your tongue against his he looses it. You are overwhelmed and he is not getting enough. Han wants to slurp at your spit, drink you whole in. He wants you to take over his own body, but at the same time, he wants to have you under him. Writhing in pleasure, fidgeting nervously from every move he makes, just like now.

He sticks his tongue in your mouth, tangling it with yours and he groans lowly at that. Your lips meet in nasty sounds that are perfectly mixing with the music he put on — it was perfect. The hand on your waist travels to the front, squishing the soft rolls of your tummy forming by how you are sitting. Even now you are trying to make yourself smaller, but he definitely won’t let you get away. You were so occupied by kissing him back that you let out a loud gasp when he suddenly bites down at your lip.

You pull away from him a little, the best you could do anyway, because he has you in a very tight grip. “Han! What are you doing?” You gasp out, bottom lip tingling in small pain.

Han is out of breath, a little disappointed to be pulled away so soon from you, but when he looks down at swollen lip, it didn’t matter too much. “Kissing you?” He says, smiling breathlessly and looking over your body. He can feel the weight on his hands, but also you are slightly frozen over, looking down at your lap. “Do you want to stop?”

He hopes not, he can’t live on otherwise. The hand holding your delicate face drifts down to your neck, pushing away strands of your hair to lean closer to you. His nose is hit with your sweet perfume again, eyes almost rolling back into his head. Seeing that you are not pushing him away, he leans down to kiss your skin. It tickles you, startles you from how good it feels to have his lips on your neck. He keeps distracting you with his moves, his mouth and you have to squeeze his shoulders to win his attention back. “Han, I—“

“Sorry, just can’t help it.” He whines out and you have to bite at your abused lip to silence your own sounds. You are not even recognizing yourself, while glancing at your reflection in his mirror. His body hovers over yours, both of yours legs almost tangled and you watch him pull away from you just to look down your shirt. “Do they hurt?” You are taken back by his question, following his eyes, seeing him look down your blouse.

Han is way more bold than he himself expected to be, but he can’t do anything other than act on his desires. “No…” Your bottom lip is pouts out and he almost goes to kiss you again, but he decides do something else.

You are gasping, hot breath hitting his face when his hands grasp your underboob. You are chewing already on your lip, watching his hands wrap around your tits, blunt nails digging into your skin. He definitely can feel your nipples hardening when he squeezes both of your tits at the same time. A small whimper leaves your lips and you have to shut your eyes in embarrassment.

Fuck, he knows that he probably looks crazy right now, when he literally drools over the sight of his hands on your tits. The tips of his fingers nibble at your blouse, pushing it to the side to reveal your bra to him. He is in shock that you actually wear something like that to school when someone could just take a peak or spill something over you. The almost see through fabric wraps around you so nicely, cute little bow in the middle and his thumb flickers hungrily over the soft skin spilling over the top. “Hmm, your bra looks really tight…are you sure?” You choked out another sound when he gropes your tits. “You want a massage? You’re always so tense, Y/N—“

You whine, pressing your hand over your mouth when he latches his lips on your nipple, taking the material of your blouse and even your bra inside his mouth. He can taste your perfume, the softener you use, but mostly you. His eyes are still on your scrunched up face, even while drooling over you. “Fuuuuck, look at you—“ When he bites down at your nipple a soft, shy moan leaves you.

“Han…” You breathe heavily, hands in your lap shaking from his mouth on your breast. He switches to your right nipple while his fingers twist and pull at the other. You are trembling already, shivering when he suddenly blows cold air on you. You look drown at him with your eyes droopy, glasses fogged up at the bottom and he definitely doesn’t look any better.

His plump lips are red and swollen, spit all over his mouth and when he leans away from you, you finally see what he has done to you. Your white blouse is soaked through, pink bra showing under the now see through material and you still feel your nipples tingling when he pulls you closer to him. “Closer, come closer—“ His voice is whiny, stuck at the back of his throat. You watch him spread his legs out, caging your body and when he taps both of his thighs you are startled a little.

“On your lap?” You bite your lip, looking at him from beneath your glasses. Han is already nodding his head, pulling you closer to him, scrunching up the material of your shirt between his fingers. His cock is already straining against his pants, twitching at the sight of you. Your skirt rides up when you shuffle your way to him and his hands are already on your waist, eagerly pushing you down on him. And when you did — oh, he almost fucking cums right when your pretty, clothed pussy falls on his cock. “Yeah, that’s it —move a little–“

He is already putting pressure on your hips and you can’t even breathe at that moment. You can feel him under you and it sparks up something in you that you have never felt before. You are embarrassed that you can already feel your underwear sticking to your slick, hands shaking on his wide shoulders. From this angle you see him in new light and he is glowing. His eyes are comically wide, tongue poking out his mouth when he just barely grazes his crotch over yours. “Han, I’ve never..” You whimper at the end, too weak to stop him from moving against you.

His hands are gripping your hips rather painfully, he is aware, but when his cock grazes over your pussy, he blacks out. “It’s okay, let me show you, yeah? Want you to feel good, you want that right? You deserve it so much—“ His mouth is full of you, kissing down your neck. He licks a long stripe over your pulse, wrapping his lips around the pumping vein just to suck at it. Fuck, he is really getting under your skin…

Your hand falls to the back of his neck, crying at how hard he sucks your skin in his mouth, making you burry your nails into his skin and he literally growls. He doesn’t stop at that though, his lips move way lower, right to the skin peaking out of your bra. His saliva drips down your neck to that spot and he sure sees it as a sight to mark it up. You are already calling out his name and he is kind of disappointed in himself that he told his roommate to go, because you definitely deserved to be heard. Your moans, whimpers, choked sighs — no, those are his, his only. He is thriving with the fact that he is the one making you feel like this and he is hoping that he will be the only one.

He needs more of you, he thinks, while nibbling at the soft skin of your breasts. Han pulls away from the spot with a pop! and to his delight you are already looking at him with those glossy eyes of yours. “Someone will see that!” Your voice is still so soft, even if you at trying your hardest to sound angered.

Han glances back to the spot, where a purple hickey is forming and he has to go over it with his fingers. “I don’t care and you shouldn’t either.” Your lips fall into thin line, silent moan coming out of you when he squeezes your tits. Your body looks absolutely sinful in his hands — glasses on your nose almost falling off, neck covered with love bites, white blouse hanging off your shoulders, exposing your pretty tits covered in that pink bra and your legs? You keep squeezing them around him to relief yourself and that makes him grab a hand full of your ass to push your cunt against his cock. “Come on, Y/N, make yourself cum…” Han is literally in heaven when your hips jump forward and when your face shows a shock by the sudden pleasure you start doing it more. “Like that yeahhhh-“

Your breathing is heavy, hands grasping his shoulders, holding for dear life. He wonders if you ever humped your pillow, because you are moving like you did — he has to buy you a pillow with his face on it. He leans back on his hand to get a better look at you. You are pouting, huffing, trying so desperately not to let out any sounds but, he is not having it. His hand pushes your skirt up, just so his hand can meet your cheek with a nasty slap.

The sound echoes in the room and you finally let out a moan, the stinging pain quickly melting into pleasure. “Fuck, I can feel your pussy soaking my cock–“ Han grits through his teeth, his own hips jumping to bump into yours. “You are so pretty — so fucking pretty…you like when I call you that?” Humming, he watches your face become beet red even if your skin is dark in the soft light of his room. He can feel your legs shaking, his hands traveling to your ass to abuse it between his fingers. It almost looks like Han is only using you for his own pleasure and he kind of is.

He is huffing, groaning, spit gathering in his mouth from the sight of you bouncing on him. His hands on your ass jiggle the fat and you whimper in small embarrassment that is only being swallowed by his mouth. Your mouth is basically just hanging open, letting him tongue fuck you, because you can’t simply keep up with his moves. You are already out of breath, hips jumping wildly in pleasure and you know you are on the edge as well as him when he slap your ass again to gain your attention.

“Gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum on this cock — fuck, yeah. Make it messy, Y/N, because I want you to soak through my pants, so every time I wear them, I think of you humping your pussy on me—“ A sharp moan leaves you, feeling the rumbling in your lower tummy. You are having a hard time keeping up with your own pleasure, whining from the pain in your thighs, but he thankfully takes over. Han fucks into you rapidly, eyes drifting from your bouncing tits that are falling out of your bra back to your face of euphoria. “That’s it, such a good girl–“

With a loud moan you burry your face into his neck, cumming hard over him. Your legs are shaking from pain and pleasure, eyes blurry with tears. Han is smiling breathlessly like a crazy man, caressing your head, smoothing down your hair. He can feel your hot cunt leaking, cream from your orgasm staining the black material of his pants. His hold is soft, letting you ride out your high just because his minds keeps spinning in images and the image of him burring his face into your spend cunt is one of them.

You are thrown onto the bed and you can’t do much against it in your exhaustion. You sigh when he comes to hover over you, your eyes automatically going to his open shirt and you almost drool at the sight of his abs and tiny waist. “Fuck, baby you are amazing—“ You close your eyes, shying away from him a little and he laughs at that. “Always so shy…” You hum in agreement to his surprise and he at that goes back to suck more at your neck. His bites are mean and also his bold hands that grope everything in their way. His nose tickles your ear, his hot breath hitting your skin. Your hands finally rest upon him, just barely, but he can feel your fingers at the bottom of his shirt. When he looks down is eyes however don’t fall on your fingers, but at the spot right between your legs. Your thigh high socks are still by some miracle, digging into the skin of your inner thighs. Your skirt is flipped up, so he has a perfect view of your underwear and how he hoped, it fucking matched.

The lacy material is already ruined by your leaking pussy and when he if looks carefully enough he can see the outline of your folds. “Holy shit, look at that!” He leans back into his knees while you press your face into his pillow in embarrassment. How can you be so shy when you literally rode his cock just few minutes ago? He thinks, he’s in love…

The panties are deliciously digging into your hips, thighs just begging to be wrapped around his head and how could he resist that. Han shuffles down the bed rather quickly, mouthing at your thigh next and you are left trembling again. You are already exhausted, yet you think you want more — need more. You are curious about what else he can do to make you not feel like yourself anymore. The skin of your inner thighs is sensitive, you know that, because you sometimes like to pinch the skin between your fingers, just like he is doing it with his teeth. “Sensitive—“ You warn him, shuttering as he bites and licks at your thighs.

He looks up to you, not stopping however and then the tip of his tongue is hit with sweetness. His head is already so close to your pussy, but he has to lick up all of your juices from your skin firstly, just replacing it with his spit. “Let me eat your pussy, I need it…I swear, I will make you feel so good—“ You are already nodding your head, fisting the sheets, just as he hooks his finger in your underwear. “Let me blow your mind, baby.”

Han almost pulls out his phone to take a picture, because he has never seen a pussy so pretty. From your orgasm it’s a little swollen, red, clit just begging to be sucked into his mouth. He can smell your arousal from here, but he needs you closer — he needs to drown in you. His hands slide your body down and you yelp form how easily he did that, letting him push your legs up to your chest. You want to cry from his blown out pupils, tongue hanging from his mouth and then finally watching him press the slick muscle against you.

Your body jerks from the new feeling, a little puzzled by it, but you can’t really think straight, when he starts to fuck you with his mouth. Han’s eyes are rolled back into his head, while slurping you all up, sucking at your labia, your hole, just barely letting his tongue slide in and flicking your puffy clit. He can feel it pulsating in his mouth, smacking his lips at your taste — strawberries and cream. Han can’t get enough of how soft you feel, cock painfully pressing against his pants, however it only makes it feel better. The pain combined with the pleasure of eating your cunt is the most erotic thing he has ever felt.

“S-slow down!” A pathetic plea leaves you, but he doesn’t hear it. His nose is buried in you so deep that he has trouble breathing, face becoming red from the low intake of oxygen. He doesn’t need oxygen when he is breathing in something much more pleasurable. He can’t fight his hips from humping against his bed. The hands on the back of your thighs push them further to your chest, letting him press his mouth into your leaking hole. His tongue flattens, licking a long stripe from the rim of your ass to your clit. “Han!” So sweet and tight…

Your pussy sucks his tongue right in, even if you are shaking from overstimulation. He needs to feel you orgasm on his tongue, so he is on a mission to make you cum as fast as possible, just to taste more of you. “How do you taste so good? It’s the fucking strawberries, you always eat, I swear-“ You are literally crying, tears streaming down your face and his hips flew away from the bed, because he almost cums in his pants.

Your hand comes to push his head away simple because you can’t even think from hard he is pressing his tongue against you. Your pussy is on fire, liquid lava filling up your tummy and you literally scream when he starts to slurp meanly at you. The sound is so loud, hand shaking and just lying on his head. You can’t control your trembling body and when he starts to shake his head from side to side, you are crying out, pleading for him to just slow down a little, but he only starts to suck your whole pussy into his mouth. “Han! F-feels weird, ah!” You want to push his head away, but he is acting like possessed, nails digging into your skin and you know there are definitely going to be bruises.

Han can’t stop, not when he tastes the hot cream leaking from your hole, smearing all over his chin. He is shaking inside, because he knows, why you are warning him and that makes him go even harder. His tongue is numb, lips red, but when he goes to suck at your clit, he hears that moan again. Your eyes are wide open, back arching when he nibbles at your nub and this orgasm almost takes you out.

He sees your eyes rolling back into your head and then he feels you squirt all over him, coating his face and bed in your pleasure. His lips are parted, drinking you up and he wants to cry at your beautiful state. “So, good—“ Han is whining, hips jumping in the air, looking at your squirting pussy. Your holes spasm, your painfully swollen slit pulsating on his tongue and he is simply amazed by your body.

“Fuck…” You mumble, feeing your soaked thigh highs melting into you. Han is shocked by the word leaving for pretty lips, while he crawls his way up your exhausted body to kiss you sweetly. You taste yourself on his lips and you have to say you do taste rather sweet. Leaning back, you try to look at him, but your glasses are all the way down your neck, so he puts your glasses back on your nose for you and you immediately sigh in embarrassment at his wet face, shirt and even few strands of his hair. “I’m sorry—“

Han eyes widened at your sad eyes, shaking his head immediately. “No, baby.” He coos, caressing your cheek softly, like he just didn’t make you squirt just by his mouth. He is really a lot to take in. “You did so well for me—“ With each word he kisses a part of your face — your forehead, cheeks, nose, cupid’s bow, before his lips land again on your lips.

“I did?” You shiffle slightly and he feels filthy, because your face is making his cock swell painfully. He needs to cum or he will go mad. You can tell he that he is hurting in his pants, because you can feel his hard cock against your thigh and your eyes quickly fall down to catch a sight of it.

He breaths out in a small disbelief at your move, catching you in act. “Wanna make me feel good too?” Your big eyes gaze at him in wonder. “How about I teach you how to suck a cock?” You sharply gasp at the words coming from his plump lips and he knows that he won’t last long, just by your cuteness. You softly nod your head, just a small shy smile appearing on your face and Han then roughly pushes your cheeks together to maneuver you.

It hurts a little, but you let him guide you to the end of the bed, throwing one of his pillows down on the floor for you to kneel on. You are in a trance, while looking up at him, watching him move down the bed, so his crotch is right before your face. You are looking at his covered cock innocently, hands in your lap. You look heavenly in your post-orgasm state, kneeling before him like a slut…”Come on, baby — pull them down.” Han helps you guide your hands to his zipper, your fingers grazing over him in the process. The sound of the zipper is loud, it rings in your ears like your heartbeat as you watch him push down his pants with his boxers following right after.

Your gasp is delicious, mouth hanging open, eyes only on him. His cock is leaking, droplets of pearly cum coating his flushed, almost purple tip, his balls are swollen, ready to burst at any moment. Han is fully aware that this is your first time seeing someone like this and he really is enjoying himself, because of it. Your eyes keep going up and down, mesmerized by the length and thickness. You don’t know what is considered big, but you are sure Han never let anyone down with his pretty cock.

You watch him closely, when he wraps his hand around himself, squeezing at the base. Han is watching you too — how you bite your lip, how your glasses are slightly dirty from all the activities you two did and how you are keeping a good eye on how he jerks his cock off. “Gimme your hand—“ You are careful, slowly giving him hand. The moment your hand is replaced by his, you sigh in surprise and he groans in pleasure. “Move your hand up and down…yeah, just like that, you are doing so good for me—“ The feeling of him in your hand is weird, but not bad, he feels hard yet squishy and you have to squeeze him to see how it feels. “Fuck! Come closer.”

His hand becomes tangled in your hair and you hiss softly, when he pulls at it, pushing your head closer to him. “Should I lick it?” You asks, shyly, glancing up at him. “Just like you did to me?”

Han wonders where you have been his whole life for a second, before he quickly nods. “Yeah, lick it, baby — suck on the tip too.” Your hot tongue then meets his painful tip and he hears you hum at his taste. Kitten licking it, he pushes your hair away from your face to look at you better.

Your eyes are closed, frown that he knows is from concentration plastered on your face. Your hand is still around him, not moving, maybe because it was too much for your little head to handle, but he still wraps his own hand around yours to move it up his cock. Your eyes shoot open, hand moving now on your own and when you start to kiss at his cock head, he moans in delight. “Squeeze your hand a little…good girl, now suck on my cock—“

Your lips wrap around him, tongue poking at his hole perfectly. You can see why he enjoys giving so much and you definitely want to thank him for that. He’s been so nice to you, making you feel so good. You suck a little harder, mouth already halfway full of him and you for a split second think you may have done it a little too hard, but you are quickly proven wrong.

Han whimpers, the beautiful sound, making you press your legs together. When he pushes your head down further you let him, even if your scalp is on fire from his grip. “Put your hand on my balls and keep your mouth still for me, okay?” You only hum around him, making him whine more. Like he said, your hand unwraps from his cock to travel down his balls, keeping it there and waiting for the next instructions. “Play with them, do what you want with them, while I fuck your mouth.”

You moan around him again, spit pooling out of mouth and down the hand that squeezes his heavy balls. You almost pull away from him when he starts to snap his hips up. You immediately gag around him, breathing through your nose heavily. Han is leaking into your mouth, watching carefully how your throat contracts around him. From having you hump his cock to making you squirt on his tongue and now having your mouth on him, he can’t fight his quickly approaching orgasm.

When your nose and glasses hit the hair on his pubic bone, it makes you gargle a little and he finally knows where he wants his cum. Those fucking glasses — they complement you so well and you look like wet dream right now, his dirty fantasy come true, he wonders what would you do if anyone would catch you like this. The nerdy, shy girl taking a cock down her throat like total slut and being so obedient for the school’s notorious badboy. “Ha! Ahhh, fuck, I’m cumming—“ You suck in air, face red as he suddenly pushes you off him. You look at him, hand still playing with his balls that you feel twitching in your grasp. The cute, confused face makes him groan loudly, his own hand wrapping around his cock. The hand in your hair tightens, pushing your head down to make you kneel down at his feet again. Your eyes caught the sight of him jerking himself off quickly, cock right in your face and you gasp when he cums over you.

Thick ropes of white land on your glasses, making you close your eyes in reflex. Han is moaning loudly, pumping himself dry and he thinks he could cum again just by the sight of your pretty face covered in his cum. “Y/N…” It lands on your glasses, your eyebrow and lips and when you on instinct go lick it off, he knows that it is over for him.

Han Jisung is completely speechless. Your face is covered in him, lips red, body teared apart and covered in his marks. Purples, reds from his selfish lips and hungry hands. Mind empty, only pleasure lingering. He caresses your face softly in a absolute devotion, mirroring your smile of happiness, mixed with exhaustion. He looks down at you, like you are the thing he has been searching for and all that’s left to say is that...you are going to be forever his.

[logansbaby]

Worst Logan is probably so touch starved

oh absolutely!!!!! thank you wonderful anon for sharing bc you’ve inspired this tiny drabble <3 extremely short but completely spurred on by my need to hug worst logan ty!

no warnings! just one use of slut by wade (ofc)

word count - around 1k

also, the song hear you me by jimmy eat world kept coming to me during this so! vibes maybe?

˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

Logan Howlett hates physical touch.

He hates the way people often go about trying to touch him, whether it be a brief tangle of fingers or a simple hug, he hates it.

He’s not entirely sure where it’s stemmed from, especially considering that as a younger man, he didn’t mind it. Maybe it’s because of the fact that people he cared for were always too far out of reach, leaving him a swirling mess filled with the aches that follow with unrequited feelings. Or, maybe its the fact that once he’d begun to open up to the people he considered family, he’d failed to protect them, only left to ruin their legacy with his destructive, lethal grief.

The reason doesn’t matter, not really, because he’s okay with being alone, nursing copious amounts of whisky shots to numb his loud thoughts.

His plan of rotting away in a bar alone goes to shit the minute Wade shows up and drags him into the shit show he’d landed himself in.

And somehow, after everything settles down, he finds himself stuck in a new universe, living with far too many bodies in Wade's apartment. He wonders why he stayed to begin with, especially with the way Wade pisses him off like no other, but he knows. In the back of his mind, he knows that the group of people he’s come to know have weaseled their way inside his guarded heart. Knowing doesn’t make it any easier to accept, though.

The red masked man often tells him he needs to get laid, get up and find someone to fix his grumpy, brooding act he has going on if he’s not going to let Wade do it himself (his words, not Logan’s).

And whenever he presses too much, Logan’s claws will unsheathe with that unmistakable snikt! before they dig into whatever limb of Wade’s is closest.

People had caught on very early that Logan dislikes physical contact, so it’s an unspoken rule by everyone to not push the man. Well, everyone except Wade— the man has been impaled by adamantium far too many times and never learns. That, or he just likes the pain a little too much.

So, it comes to a surprise to everyone when Logan doesn’t yell at you, sink his claws into a nearby surface in warning, or growl when you wrap the man in a hug the first time you meet him.

It’s at some party thrown by Wade— purely an excuse for the man to see Vanessa under the guise of a celebration for his newest hair system— or whatever the fuck he’d rambled on about, Logan wasn’t listening.

He’d been on his way out, the ghost taste of whisky tingling his tongue as he plans to waste away at the closest bar, when he catches a glimpse of something akin to an angel.

That something is you.

You— in all your pretty glory, a beacon of light that glows through the entirety of the dull apartment with just a single smile. Hair frames your face with wisps that kiss rosy-painted cheeks as you laugh at something someone says. A floral dress sits atop of curves that will absolutely haunt his nights. The scent of you tickles his heightened senses— a swirl of vanilla and honey so sweet that he suppresses a groan.

Logan believes then and there you’re a princess, an angel, something ethereal and enchanting. He wonders then why you’re friends with Wade.

He’s already speechless at the sight of you, wrapped up in thoughts, that he doesn’t realize you’re suddenly in front of him until an obnoxious voice startles him from the depths of his mind.

“Peanut! How could you leave without saying hi to sweetness here? Horribly rude if you ask me.”

Under any normal circumstance, Logan would’ve growled at the man before him, followed by a string of curses. However, he’s too occupied with his body thrumming at the sudden proximity and closeness to you.

“Hi!”

Of course, it makes sense that your voice matches your looks; sweet and syrupy with an addictive lilt.

Before he can utter a poorly spoken sentence, his body goes rigid, every muscle within him immediately tense as an unfamiliar weight is on him.

“Oh, peaches, you don’t want to do that, Wolvie isn’t much of a hugger—“ Wade’s warning comes too late, given the fact that you’re already wrapped around the man frozen in place.

And in an instant, the entire room is silent, because everyone here has witnessed Logan’s distaste when being touched, usually at the hands of Wade.

Logan’s body tingles with how still he is— waiting for that awful feeling to consume every bit of him at the touch of another.

Except, the feeling never comes.

Oblivious, your arms squeeze Logan’s waist as you hug him tightly, head resting against his chest, where his heart hammers maddeningly.

Why is he resisting the urge to bury his nose in your hair?

“I just want to say thank you. I don’t know how you did it, Wade won’t tell me. But I know you saved this universe and I couldn’t be more grateful!”

And, what?

He's confused. You’re speaking to him like you’ve known him your whole life, and he’s not used to this. He’s familiar with people regarding him with disgust or poorly conceived opinions, not this.

“I love my life, truly! My sweet little dog, my friends, my bakery, I couldn’t imagine it being taken away quicker than a breath, so thank you, Logan. Thank you so much!”

Genuine gratefulness coats your rambled words; it’s s then Logan realizes that you’ve pulled back, though your hands still rest causally on his hips, a kind smile gracing your face.

It also dawns on him that the dreaded feeling that often follows people touching him never came Instead, a pleasant tingle kisses the skin that your hands and body touched. Logan has never been more perplexed in his life.

The feel of you is taken away promptly, Wade yanking your body away from his and pulling you to his chest.

“Sorry sweetness, but Logan isn’t known for his love for hugs. He doesn’t like people touching him, it doesn’t end well. And, considering you’re you, I prefer you alive and healthy, not being turned into a human kabob.”

And at that, you feel horror fill you up, your heart sinking, face flushing.

Because oh my gosh, you never would have done that if you had known! but why did you anyway?! you always acted without thought and clearly it had caught up with you!

“I’m so, so unbelievably sorry! I— I didn’t mean to cross boundaries or make you uncomfortable! I’m so—“ before you can ramble yourself into further embarrassment, a deep voice cuts you off.

“S’okay.”

The words are simple, quick. Yet, the delivery of them shakes every person in the room to their core. The implication isn’t to be missed— Logan has never reacted that way to being touched before.

It’s quiet— the room watching with curiosity pooling their eyes and you’re filled to the brim with mortification. And then, the silence is gone when Wade gasps dramatically.

“Peanut, I’m hurt! I thought we had something special, I’ve been playing the long game. And now that’s ruined because some slut stole you away? With a hug? No offense, angel face, but I’m feeling catty.”

His nonsense snaps you out of your head and you roll your eyes, muttering a ‘shut up!’ before focusing on Logan’s face, the man currently glaring at Wade’s face.

“Logan, I’m so sorry. I really am—“

“Don’t worry about it.” He says, but what he really wants to say is please don’t be, your hug felt like home and didn’t make me feel sick for the first time in a long, long time.

You smile, weariness still present. The way your pretty lips stretch into a tiny grin, at him no less, he knows he’s got to get out of there, or he’ll spiral.

You’re about to speak again, but he can’t stop himself from following his instincts. He doesn’t say anything else before practically running out the door, his breath only releasing once he's out of your presence.

And while the man is gulping down numbing alcohol, mind a whirlwind of confusion at himself and youyouyou, the apartment is loud due to Wade having a breakdown.

“—Seriously! I get a claw to the stomach anytime I get to close but you waltz in and suddenly Logan is all for touch? I feel cheated on.”

“Wade, you’re completely overreacting. Maybe you should’ve warned me! I made a complete idiot of myself!” You huff, pacing the tiny living room to expel the anxiety coiling in your abdomen.

“No, baby. The only idiot is me for thinking he’d want me back!” Wade whines, dramatic as usual, and throws himself onto the couch, a move that lands himself in Vanessa’s lap. The woman pats his head in fake sympathy.

“Wade! Shut up, oh my god! He’s never gonna talk to me again!”

And unknowingly, both Logan and you are worrying yourselves sick about that damn hug and the spark that spread from your heart to his.

And maybe, just maybe, Logan doesn’t hate touch after all.

[twistedbloodstain]

What are you planning on writing from now on? Amazing series btw I was always waiting for updates LOVED IT

thank you so much!!! <333

im def working on the two seperate one shots asked for the marquis im very eager to write one of them bc it includes the marquis being a BIG SIMP for the reader, the other’s a trophy wife! reader. it’ll be interesting to see the dynamics between them. in addition that aftermath fic is definitely in the works. i’ve made a piece of dialogue for that but i don’t have enough time to finish it 😞

in addition i’m in the middle of the keith toshko fic but i still haven’t finished it

[buzzcutlip]

Prompt: Blindfolds Carmen x Fem!Reader Explicit! Words: 2091 A/N: warning for slight pain!kink, a pinch of dom!Reader undertones (but not really, depends on how you read it) Written for Olive @carmenberzattosgf and her Bearblr Promptober (I'm late for this prompt but I say f*ck it, also there are no naked enough photos of Carmy so Jeremy's CK photo must do it) 

“I promise I do understand what you mean,” you tell Carmen defensively, nodding vigorously in the hope that he’ll see you’re on his side.

“How fucking hard is it to understand that there’s a difference?!” he fumes. “Cicero must think I’m a joke!”

The drama with the Orwellian butter from the afternoon carries on into the late evening.

It’s just you and Carmy left in the kitchen—him pacing behind the stainless steel counters on the freshly scrubbed white-tiled floor. You’re not even sure how you ended up staying. Normally, you’d leave as soon as the restaurant closed and the front-of-house staff was no longer needed.

“Fucking stupid,” Carmen mutters next to you, staring down at four plates of butter, some more yellowish, some paler. His chef's jacket is unbuttoned, revealing a tight white T-shirt underneath. The casualness makes him seem less like your boss and more like the guy you've fancied since day one.

“Because of Jimmy, I have to start again and find a good enough substitute,” Carmen explains, pointing at the plates in frustration. “But are we here for second-best?” His blue eyes find yours, piercing you with their intensity.

“No,” you answer as quickly and resolutely as you can. By now, you’ve realized that, for some reason, you’ve become Carmen’s accomplice in this butter war.

He nods, agreeing, then returns his attention to the butter slices, hands on his hips. His hair is curling wildly in all directions. “I could tell which one is from Orwell without even looking.”

And you believe him. The way you look at him is filled with assurance and maybe a little bit of admiration.

---

That’s how a late evening turns into an unexpected night adventure. Carmen prompts you to fetch your dark blue silk scarf from your locker, and you use it to blindfold him, tying it securely at the back of his head. The challenge is set, and both of you know that it’s only so Carmen can prove to Carmen that he, in fact, is right.

“Okay,” you say, pushing the first plate in front of him along with a spoon. The bright kitchen light reflects off the metal as Carmen, standing close by, reaches for the plate blindly, pulls it closer, and picks up the spoon.

He’s methodical. He smells the butter first, carefully avoiding getting any on his nose—which you find amusing and barely manage to stifle a laugh. He then scoops up a bit with the spoon. For the first time, you let yourself openly watch his hands, study the tattoos on them. At The Bear, Carmen is practically a god. You always feigned indifference, not wanting to disrupt your colleagues’ admiration for him. But here, experiencing "Carmen in the wild," you like what you see more than you should.

His hands hover expectantly, searching for the next plate. You move closer to switch them out, placing the next sample within his reach. This time, he brings the spoon to his lips almost immediately after smelling it, his brows furrowing in concentration. As the tasting goes on, you find yourself less focused on the results and more on Carmen himself—his movements, the way his jaw flexes as he savors each flavor, the quiet but fierce dedication in his expression. You catch a glimpse of his gold chain, partially hidden by the collar of his T-shirt, and wonder about what’s beneath the fabric. You’ve often seen him in just a T-shirt, revealing his strong arms with tattoos and unexpectedly defined muscles.

“It’s the third one,” Carmy says at last, after he’s tasted all the samples. “We’re going with the second one. That’ll be the substitute. If Cicero wants it, he can fucking have it,” he sighs deeply.

The silence between you stretches, almost becoming a presence in itself, filled with the soft hum of the kitchen's appliances. Carmen’s breath is steady, his focus elsewhere as he reaches up to untie the blindfold.

“No, don’t,” you stop him hastily. “There’s one more thing.” He tilts his head in your direction, and before he can protest, you lean in and press your lips to his in a slow, chaste kiss. His skin feels warm beneath your touch, and the fact that he can’t see you, that he’s relying solely on sensation, gives you a thrill.

When you kiss him again, you dare to touch his chest, gripping his bicep for support. Relief floods you when he returns the kiss, heat radiating from your stomach to your lower belly and chest. Your cheeks are burning with pride and satisfaction.

Carmen tastes rich and velvety, with a hint of sweetness—like the butter.

“Can you taste me?” you whisper, your upper body pressing against his firm torso, your chest against his.

“Yeah,” Carmen nods, his mouth already seeking yours. For the next few moments, you let him kiss you deeply, only to pull away teasingly, making him blindly chase your lips again and again.

You can tell Carmen is getting just as worked up as you are from the way his hands, strong and steady from years in the kitchen, rest on your sides, his fingertips lightly grazing your waist as if testing whether you’re really there. Neither of you speaks; words don’t seem to belong in this space, where everything feels on the verge of spilling over.

“No touching,” you chide playfully. “I mean it.” You take a step back, and after a moment, Carmen lets his arms fall limply by his sides.

“Hmm,” you murmur, taking in his appearance. His lips are swollen and dark from kissing, his chest rising and falling with each breath. You’ve made a mess of him, and you like it. There’s a dampness between your thighs, which doesn’t surprise you.

“When we’re deprived of one sense, the others heighten,” you muse aloud, moving closer to him again. You can see the gentle rise and fall of his chest. You place your palm against Carmen’s heart, feeling the steady, rapid thudding. He stills, and in the next moment, you pinch his nipple between your fingers, hard.

Carmen gasps, his whole body jolting. His lips part in a sharp intake of breath, and his muscles tense beneath your touch. Surprisingly, or maybe not, he doesn’t say a word. Your hand lingers on his chest, fingers grazing the cotton fabric as you release the pinch, then trail downward slowly. You reach the hem of his T-shirt, quickly pulling it up and over his head, careful not to disturb the blindfold.

His upper body is bared to your gaze. The rucked-up T-shirt reveals his chest dusted with fine hair, with a red mark blooming where you pinched him.

“It hurt,” Carmen says shakily, his jaw clenching, but he doesn’t move.

“Maybe,” you reply softly. “But I think you liked it.” You lean close, your lips brushing against the silk covering his eyes and the edge of his ear. He shudders at your nearness. His hands twitch at his sides, resisting the urge to touch you and break the rules.

You pull back slightly to see his expression—lips parted, brow furrowed as if struggling for composure. A faint flush creeps up his neck, which you find especially endearing.

You can’t help but push him further. There's something thrilling about seeing Carmen Berzatto, the chef who’s always in control, like this—unraveled. Your fingertips trace the lines of his muscles, moving down from his pectorals, savoring the warmth of his skin. His breath hitches when your nails lightly scratch his abdomen.

You press closer, heart pounding in your ears, and when you kiss him this time, it’s not gentle or teasing. It’s desperate and deep, a clash of tongues and teeth as your hand slips inside his pants and underwear.

“Fuck,” Carmen groans, breaking the kiss, his head falling back. You know you have him at your mercy, and it turns you on more than you’d like to admit. At the same time, you wish you could see his face without the scarf.

A sudden clatter from the restaurant breaks through the haze, snapping both of you back to reality. You pull away abruptly, breathless. The absence of his warmth leaves you aching.

“I…” you start, but whatever you were going to say hangs unfinished. The intensity between you crackles, and you wonder if you’ve pushed too far, or not far enough. Without a word, you reach up to untie the blindfold, your fingers trembling as you loosen the knot.

Carmen blinks against the light, taking a moment before he looks at you. He glances down at his chest, then pulls the T-shirt over his head, adjusting it over the bulge in his pants.

“You don’t have to—” he begins, voice rough, but he trails off, running a hand through his curls. He looks like he’s struggling to regain control, to find the right words.

“Carmen, I’m—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he says quickly, shaking his head, a slight frown on his face. "Don't apologize. It’s… fine."

You’re surprised by the sting of tears in your eyes.

“I should probably… get going,” you say, the words sounding like a retreat, which you hate.

Carmy glances at your feet before meeting your gaze. “I don’t know what… this is,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I can’t afford to be distracted.”

His words hit harder than you expect, even though a part of you anticipated them. “Distracted?" you echo, a tinge of bitterness creeping into your tone.

He’s very obviously fighting his own embarrassment, and you watch him intently, hanging on his every word, waiting for him to say you can’t work here anymore after what just happened, never wanting to see you again. 

“Fuck,” Carmen squeezes his eyes closed, palm running over his face. “You should just go. It’s late anyway.”

The words sting, even though you understand why he’s saying them. There’s a tightness in your chest as you take a step back, creating distance that feels both necessary and painful. "Right," you murmur, forcing a small, tense smile. "Of course."

You turn to leave, but before you reach the door, you hear his voice again, softer this time, almost hesitant. "I’m not… I’m not saying I don’t want this," he says, and you freeze, your hand lingering on the doorframe. "I just… I don’t know if I can handle everything right now. The restaurant, Cicero, and… this." He gestures between the two of you, his expression conflicted.

You bite your lip, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I get it," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady through the burn of disappointment and regret.  

[ghostchems]

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part seven

and now... a flashback chapter

art by the always amazing @piaart

author’s note: i feel like shit but it helped me finish this up. plenty of terzo pain here meanwhile reader is home, blissfully unaware. i also have no idea if my writing is good at this point but here ya go! part one/two/three/four/five/six. ao3 link.

If you could see the wreck I am these days, you’d have new reasons to stay away. Just hold my hand for a little while —

Misery never goes out of style.

Terzo traces a delicate finger along one of the bags under his eyes, no longer concealed by the dark eye paint he once wore. His brows furrow at the sight of himself in the mirror. The wrinkles have deepened since he left the stage. His hair, now less lustrous, betrays gray strands emerging from his roots and sideburns. All those years spent cultivating his image, trying to become the perfect imperfection that Lucifer himself boasted—only to unravel after one fateful show. He grits his teeth, his mismatched eyes sharpening in his reflection.

With all the glitz stripped away, he loathes how much he now resembles his father…

Terzo forces the thought out of his head. His days are spent analyzing his time as Papa and what went wrong. He wouldn’t do anything differently but it still stung, especially after the new heights and exposure he had achieved for the Ministry. Somehow, it was not enough. His father was never proud of him, a theme that stretched throughout his entire life. Terzo was only ever the Third to him, the third son that would serve his purpose and then be pushed aside for whoever was next. While this had been the typical progression, Terzo was the fool who thought he would be different — even after being warned by Secondo.

Secondo.

“Cazzo.”

He’s late for Uno Night.

The once-revered Emeritus brothers now find themselves relegated to a desolate corner of the abbey with their only entertainment being a silly card game. Their influence wanes with each passing day. Terzo can't help but sneer at the irony of their situation - former leaders now barely more than forgotten relics, with only each other’s company. There was a time when the Emeritus brothers were revered as gods among men. Crowds would surge forward at their concerts, desperate to touch the hem of their robes or catch a glimpse of their painted faces. Devotees would line up for hours, sometimes days, just for the chance to receive a blessing or a fleeting moment of attention. Their every word was treated as gospel, their gestures analyzed and imitated by legions of faithful followers.

In the halls of the Ministry, their presence commanded instant respect and adoration. Ghouls and Siblings of Sin alike would bow their heads in reverence as they passed. Their chambers were filled with lavish gifts from admirers - exotic incense, priceless artifacts, and fervent love letters. The very air seemed to crackle with power and dark allure whenever they entered a room. Now, that electric atmosphere has faded to a dull static. The gifts have stopped coming, the adoring crowds have moved on to newer, shinier idols. The once-mighty Emeritus brothers find themselves grasping at the fading light of their former glory, clinging to memories of a time when they were worshipped as the embodiments of their infernal master.

He used to delicately paint his face for each meeting, a ritual of devotion to himself and his roll as Papa. But now, as he stares at his bare face, he feels a bitter resentment towards the being he once revered. The paint feels like a mask of lies, concealing the growing doubts and anger festering within him. Lucifer's promises of power and glory now ring hollow in his ears, leaving only the taste of ash and disappointment. Terzo exhales through his nose and tears himself away from the mirror, satisfied with his appearance but frustrated with the progression of his thoughts. He had grown more disillusioned by the day with the cause he so passionately promoted, the being he worshipped. Lucifer, once his guiding light, now seemed like a cruel puppeteer, manipulating him for some cosmic joke.

Omega did not like these thoughts. In fact, Terzo has begun avoiding him and instead has been seeking the company of his brothers. Perhaps the one silver lining in all of this is that he is closer than he ever has been with his true family, minus daddy dearest, of course. They had grown up together, with Primo practically raising him and Secondo after they had come to the ministry. Back then he was a true zealot - a satanic lunatic whose fervor for the dark arts knew no bounds. It was from him that Terzo learned the intricacies of their infernal faith, absorbing every ritual and incantation with wide-eyed fascination. Yet, somehow, both Terzo and Secondo emerged less fanatical than their older brother.

But still competitors, nonetheless. Secondo and Terzo had been born to different mothers three months apart so it came naturally. The more time spent together now, the more they realize how similar they can be and deep down, Terzo wishes they had not been so combative. It was encouraged, though, fed and grown by the higher ups in the ministry and their father. Maybe they feared they would be too powerful if they were close.

Now all they care about is Uno.

"Fuck!" Terzo exclaims again, his voice tinged with frustration as he runs a hand tiredly over his face. The weight of his thoughts bears down on him, but he knows he can't afford to dwell any longer. With a deep sigh, he forces himself into action, slipping his feet into his shoes - the familiar spats clicking as he gets them on. Just as he reaches for the door handle, a sharp knock echoes through the room. Terzo pauses, his hand hovering in mid-air. Irritation flashes across his face.

"Enter," he calls out, his voice tinged with impatience.

The door creaks open, revealing a young Sibling of Sin. Their face is pale, eyes wide with fear and urgency. Terzo's irritation gives way to curiosity as he takes in their disheveled appearance.

"What is it?" he asks, his tone softening slightly.

The Sibling swallows hard before speaking, their voice trembling. "Papa, I... I have news. It's about Omega."

Terzo's eyebrows furrow. "Omega? What about him?" He nonchalantly goes back to adjusting his outfit, wondering if this is another plot from the ghoul to try and make him listen to “reason”. He certainly has stooped rather low, almost as low as Terzo.

The Sibling takes a deep breath, as if steeling themselves for what they're about to say. "He's been banished, Papa. Omega has been cast out of the Ministry."

The words hit Terzo like a physical blow. He stumbles back a step, his mind reeling. "Banished?" he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "But... how? Why?" Pain is etched across his face.

The Sibling shakes their head, clearly as confused and shaken as Terzo. "I don't know the details, Papa. It happened so suddenly. They're saying it came from the highest levels of the Ministry."

Terzo's mind races, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Shock, confusion, and a sudden, unexpected pang of loss all vie for dominance. Despite their recent disagreements, Omega had been a constant in his life for so long. The thought of him being gone, cast out... it's almost inconceivable.

Terzo's composure shatters as the weight of the news crashes over him. His eyes flash with unbridled fury, causing the Sibling to take an involuntary step back. "Get out!" he roars, his voice reverberating off the walls. "Leave me! Now!" The Sibling, wide-eyed with fear, scrambles to obey, nearly tripping over their own feet in their haste to escape. Terzo slams the door with such force that the entire room seems to shake, the sound echoing through the corridors like a thunderclap.

As soon as the barrier between him and the outside world is secure, everything crumbles. A primal roar of anguish and frustration tears from his throat, echoing off the walls of his private chambers. In a whirlwind of unbridled emotion, he lashes out at his surroundings. His fist connects with the ornate mirror adorning his vanity, the impact sending a spider web of cracks across its surface before it shatters completely. Shards of glass rain down, glittering in the dim light like fallen stars.

But Terzo's rage demands more destruction. He overturns his meticulously organized desk, unleashing an avalanche of papers, pens, and trinkets onto the floor. Books, once neatly arranged on shelves, are torn free and flung across the room, their pages fluttering like disoriented birds. His wardrobe—a carefully curated collection of robes and suits that once symbolized his power and prestige—falls victim to his fury next. Garments are ripped from hangers and strewn about haphazardly, silk and velvet mingling with the debris below. Spotting one of his Papal robes, an early prototype, he seizes it and tears, splitting seams and fabric into pieces with savage force.

He could kill them. End the reign of his father and Sister Imperator with a knife to their throats, a hammer to their heads. He’s capable and he’s angry.

But that’s not who Terzo is.

His appetite for destruction is as swift as it is thorough. When the storm of his anger finally subsides, Terzo finds himself standing amidst the wreckage of his once-immaculate quarters. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his knuckles having bloodied his gloves from his outburst. The room, previously a testament to his refined tastes and exalted position, now lies in utter ruin around him. He closes his eyes, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as the full weight of what has transpired begins to settle upon him.

The dust settles around him, both literally and figuratively, as his mind wanders to Omega. Their relationship, once the core of his existence within the Ministry, had deteriorated over the past several months, transforming into a strained and tenuous connection. The rift between them had widened, growing into a seemingly unbridgeable gap that threatened to swallow everything they shared whole. Omega, ever faithful of their infernal master, had persistently begged Terzo to embrace what he perceived as a well-deserved retirement—a supposed reward bestowed upon them by Lucifer himself for their years of unwavering service and dedication.

"Papa, you've more than earned this rest," Omega would implore, his eyes blazing with sheer intensity behind his cool mask that Terzo found increasingly difficult to look at. "Our Dark Lord Lucifer, in his infinite wisdom, has granted you this period of rest and reflection. Why do you persist in resisting? Can you not see the honor in this gift he has bestowed upon you?"

But for Terzo, the notion of settling into a life of idle luxury felt suffocating—a gilded cage that threatened to strip away everything he had fought so hard to achieve. The very thought of turning his back on the empire he had painstakingly built, nurtured, and expanded over the years felt like a betrayal of who he is and what defines him. As time wore on, his arguments with Omega grew increasingly heated and frequent, his frustration mounting with each tense exchange, threatening to boil over into hostility.

"You call this rest, Omega?" Terzo would retort, his voice rising with each impassioned word, hands gesticulating wildly to emphasize his point. "This isn't rest—it's nothing short of exile, a banishment from everything I've ever known and loved! How can you, of all people, expect me to sit idly by, content to watch as everything I've dedicated my life to—my very existence—crumbles around me like dust?" The air between them would crackle with tension during these confrontations, an electric charge that made it increasingly difficult for them to occupy the same space without the risk of conflict erupting at any moment.

Now, with the shocking news of Omega's sudden and unexpected banishment reverberating through the chambers of his mind, Terzo finds himself consumed with emotion. Relief, guilt, anger, and a profound sense of loss intertwine in a dizzying dance, each vying for dominance in the turbulent landscape of his mind. Despite their recent differences and the ever-widening divide between them, Omega had been a constant, unwavering presence in Terzo's life for longer than he cared to remember—a touchstone of familiarity. His abrupt absence leaves a gaping void in the fabric of Terzo's existence, a wound so deep and raw that he isn't certain he possesses the means to heal it.

Even with the turmoil raging inside him, Terzo finds himself drawn to the familiar comfort of his brothers' company. With a heavy sigh, he straightens his posture and smooths down his attire, a reflexive gesture from years of public appearances. He may be struggling, but he'll be damned if he lets it show—at least not to them. They have all had their hardships. If anyone knows and understands what he is feeling right now, it is his brothers. Terzo’s steps are heavy, using his feet to clear a path forward amidst everything now on the floor. He reaches the door, hesitating for just a moment. There’s a weight pressing down on him that threatens to crush him, to break him down until there’s nothing left.

He won’t let it.

Terzo opens the door and leaves his room. As he makes his way towards the small room where their Uno nights are held, his mind goes blank, going numb to the intense feelings that are simmering beneath the surface. He trudges down the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing off the ancient stone walls, focusing on that sound to keep him grounded. As he rounds a corner, lost in the maelstrom of his thoughts, a familiar voice catches his attention, causing him to halt abruptly.

Turning, he sees Cardinal Copia emerging from his office, a stack of papers tucked under one arm and an Uno card inexplicably held between two fingers of his free hand. The Cardinal's painted face breaks into a warm smile as he spots Terzo, oblivious to the storm brewing within the former Papa.

"Ah, Papa, on your way to Uno Night, yes?” The cheerful greeting hangs in the air, a stark contrast to the darkness swirling within Terzo.

Terzo's entire body tenses, his jaw clenching so tightly he can hear his teeth grind. The sight of him, so content and oblivious to the turmoil raging through the Ministry, ignites a fire in Terzo's chest—one that he had hoped was extinguished following his outburst in his room. His eyes narrow as he regards Copia with barely contained irritation. "Uno Night," he repeats, his voice low and controlled, though tension radiates from every syllable. "Mmm… yes." He takes a step closer to Copia, his presence suddenly looming and intimidating.

Copia's smile falters slightly, but he presses on, still oblivious and sweet. "It's become quite the tradition with your brothers, hasn't it?" He hesitates for a moment, then reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a blue reverse card. He holds it out to Terzo, a tentative peace offering. "Here, Papa. I always keep this one for luck. Perhaps... perhaps you'd like to have it for tonight's game?"

Terzo's gaze sharpens dangerously as he struggles to maintain his composure. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, fingers digging into his biceps. The sight of that blue card in Copia's hand—a symbol of the carefree life he now leads—causes the fire to spread inside him, consuming him yet again. Terzo’s voice, when he finally speaks, is low and menacing, barely above a whisper.

"Tradition?" His voice is guttural and rough. "You dare speak to me of tradition when everything is crumbling around us? When the very foundations of our world are ripped away from us?" His words are full of anguish and rage, each one striking Copia like a physical blow.

The Cardinal stumbles back, his expression morphing from confusion to outright fear. "P-Papa, I... I don't understand-" he stammers, his voice trembling.

"Of course you don't understand!" Terzo cuts him off, his composure shattering completely. "You're nothing but a pawn, a naive fool dancing to their twisted tune!" He gestures wildly, his movements sharp and erratic. "Do you have any idea what's happening beyond your little bubble of blissful ignorance? Omega is gone! Banished! Cast out like yesterday's trash! And here you stand, grinning like a fool, oblivious to the chaos swirling around you!"

Copia's eyes widen in shock, the full weight of Terzo's words finally sinking in. "Omega? But how- Why-" he begins, but Terzo is far from finished.

Terzo snatches the blue Uno card from Copia's hand, gripping it so hard it begins to crumble in his grip. "And this?" he spits, brandishing it like damning evidence. "You think this changes anything? You think a game can fix what's broken? This card, this... this mockery of what we once were!" His voice rises to a near-scream. "Do you have any idea what this represents? It's not just a game, you fool! It's everything we've lost, everything that's been taken from us!"

With a primal yell that seems to shake the very stones of the corridor, Terzo tears the card to shreds. The pieces flutter between them like confetti, a mockery of celebration in this moment of utter despair. Copia flinches, raising his hands as if to shield himself from the physical manifestation of Terzo's rage.

"P-Papa, please," Copia stammers, his voice barely above a whisper, a plea for understanding, for mercy. "I didn't mean to-"

But Terzo is beyond reason, beyond mercy. His voice drops to a low, dangerous hiss, each word dripping with venom. "Get out of my sight," he commands, his tone brooking no argument. "You don't belong here. You never will. You're nothing but a pale imitation, a cheap replacement for something you could never hope to understand. And take your pathetic games with you!"

As Copia retreats, practically running down the corridor, Terzo stands amidst the scattered remains of the card. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, anger and grief warring within him. In the sudden silence, the weight of his actions begins to settle upon him. He knows, in some distant corner of his mind, that he's overreacted, that Copia isn't truly to blame for the chaos engulfing their world. But in this moment, all he can feel is the crushing weight of loss - of his position, of Omega, of everything he once held dear. And that damned Uno card, now in pieces at his feet, seems to mock him with its cheerful blue color, a stark contrast to the darkness consuming his soul.

If only he could reverse being removed from the Papacy.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Terzo straightens his posture and adjusts his shirt in an attempt to calm himself. He struggles to push down the turmoil within, determined not to let his brothers see his inner struggle. As he approaches the card room, he steels himself, forcing his face into a mask of nonchalance.

Opening the door, he finds his brothers already seated. An almost startling wave of relief washes over him. He allows a scoff to escape his lips at the sight of Primo, face fully painted and wearing a Burberry scarf. Before he can comment, Secondo interjects.

"Already gave him trouble for it, stronzino. If you'd been on time, you could've joined." There's a glint of mischief in Secondo's eyes.

Terzo rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his best efforts to maintain his aloof facade. He saunters over to the table, pulling up a chair with dramatic flair. "Well, shall we begin? I'm feeling particularly lucky tonight." He shoots a pointed look at Secondo, silently accepting the challenge in his brother's gaze.

He settles into his seat and the feeling of relief continues to spread through him. Here, surrounded by his brothers and the familiar rhythm of an extremely low-stakes card game, he can momentarily push aside his anger and frustration. In this room, he's not the fallen Papa or a disappointment to the Ministry - he's simply Terzo, the youngest of the Emeritus brothers, ready to lose himself in the game and forget, if only for a while, how far he has fallen.

On this particular evening, Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil would make an unexpected appearance, delivering news that would leave the brothers startled and confused.

They would be unable to continue their card game.

Terzo is deep in his desk chair, his body nearly slipped from it onto the floor. His gaze is locked on the the hell phone which has been ringing nonstop since you left for the night. Your taste is still on his tongue, your scent clinging to his robe. He’s afraid to move to disturb the haze he’s settled into, even though you would be back bright and early for work the morning after next. Fingers fall to his temples, rubbing them with each piercing ring of the phone.

He wouldn’t answer. He doesn’t want to face who is on the other line.

Was it Omega? What could he possibly say? He would only complicate matters—as he already has. The hell phone materialized before you, and you listened to the sounds of the abyss. It drove you into Terzo's arms and bed, but... you didn't deserve to experience such terrors or feel so frightened in his home. Or at least, if anyone was going to frighten you it should be him. His fingers drum along the arms of the chair, a deep grumble vibrating from his chest. The goal is to get you to stay, to devote yourself to him and only him. Yet the fear gnaws at him. What if the terrors you've witnessed push you away? The thought of losing you to the very darkness he once revered sends a chill through him. He wants you by his side, but you have to want to be there. Perhaps, he muses bitterly, this is another of Lucifer's cruel jokes—dangling happiness before him, only to threaten it with the very forces he once embraced.

Maybe the imp who fixed your tire that Terzo had shredded was calling. What was that all about? He didn’t have time to mull that incident over earlier while you were here. Is he manifesting things?

The memory of when he had accidentally shocked you resurfaces, Terzo's frown deepens. He recalls the pain on your face when he zapped your wrist. His gaze drifts to his hands, studying them as if they belong to a stranger. These hands that once commanded crowds, that channeled unholy energies with precision and purpose, now feel like unpredictable weapons. He clenches his fists, feeling the familiar tingle of power just beneath his skin. What if he hurts you again?

Another memory flits to the forefront of his mind — when he screamed at you over his relics being displayed causing a lightbulb to shatter. He remembers the fear in your eyes as it happened. It wasn't Lucifer's doing—it was his own power, his own lack of control. The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. Perhaps the true threat to your happiness, to any chance of a future together, isn't some external force or cosmic joke. It's him.

The silver lining is that you had seemed to be… into it. But what if next time, it's worse than a small shock or a broken bulb?

The thought sends a wave of despair crashing over him. Is he doomed to be alone, forever isolated by the very gifts that once made him special? The irony isn't lost on him—he who once reveled in his dark powers, who used them to seduce and enthrall, now fears them as the very thing that might drive you away. Terzo slumps further in his chair. The illusion of his perfection continues to fade but he’s stubborn. Unwilling to change his ways even though he knows he can be cruel and difficult.

He originally expected you to just deal with it.

Terzo rises with a frustrated growl, letting the hell phone continue its incessant ringing. He stalks over to his liquor cabinet, hands trembling slightly as he pours himself a generous measure of whiskey. What have you done to him? How dare you make him want to be better? He decides he must, at the very least, attempt to protect you from whatever hell seemingly has in store for you. This includes tempering his emotions, an obvious factor of his otherworldly abilities. Seriously, how dare you?

Taking a long swig, he savors the burn as it slides down his throat. It's a familiar comfort, one that does little to reduce the budding anxiety he feels. With a heavy sigh, he turns his back on the still-ringing phone and retreats to his bedroom, drink in hand. The door closes behind him, muffling the sound of the hell phone but he can still feel its presence. Terzo takes another sip, hoping to drink himself into unconsciousness.

Only two sleeps until he sees you again.

[yandere-sins]

saw your recent post. your thoughts on yandere naga! ghost and könig? 👀

I kept this ask for a bad day of mine because I knew it would make me happy to write about them ♥ Thank you for requesting!

Warning: Yandere, Implied Sexual Content

»»———————— ♡ ————————«« 

Ghost

♡ I see him as this bulky, black-tailed snake with black scales creeping up his arms and hips and a massive skull pattern of white scales covering his back. He's definitely not in pristine condition, scars having slashed through some of those scales. However, all you can think about when looking at those scars is how hard it must have been to actually leave a wound on this guy. This creature must have fought battles that a human could only hope never to encounter, and wielding a knife or a gun doesn't make you feel safe from him either.

♡ One thing is sure, when Ghost emerges from the dark, it's over for you. He hunts from the shadows and throughout the night, breaking the bones of his prey before killing them. Despite being huge and probably hard to miss if you know what you're looking for, you don't see him coming when he hunts, a true killer on the prowl. You also don't hear or notice him stalking you through the forests, the thicket hiding him from the sun rays that might give away his presence on that fateful day.

♡ However, Ghost is patient and persistent once he has his eye on his prey. Small animals have long breathed a sigh of relief since they are not his preferred dinner anymore. However, if there are no deer or bigger animals to hunt, he doesn't mind grabbing a human to subdue hunger for a while. That is until he meets you. He usually goes for groups of men who he can crush with his tail and who will feed him for a few weeks, so Ghost doesn't need to leave his cave more often than necessary. But you're the best he could find all day, so it's no surprise that he stalks after you until you are far enough away from your pesky village so your screams can't be heard.

♡ Ghost loves the chase more than he likes to admit. It really gets his adrenaline pumping, his instincts warming up and tingling his desires. What little venom he possesses shoots into his fangs out of pure animalistic drive. When you finally catch a glimpse of his black scales reflecting the sunlight, all you hear is the cracking of tree trunks behind you as his body slams into them while he hunts you down. You might be smaller and more agile, but he has the advantage of reach, speed, and stamina. If he were to lunge at you, it would be over. He knows this, and yet, instead of simply grabbing you and snapping your neck, he lets you run away from him, leading you in circles by cutting off your paths until you notice something is wrong. It's adorable when you try to confront him with your puny knife in your shaking hands. One whose blade wouldn't even leave a scratch on his scales. When he rears up to his full size, he can watch the realization changing your expression into one of dread, and when Ghost licks the air, he tastes your fear, exciting him all the more.

♡ With one swift movement of his tail, he has it wrapped around you, your little knife plunging into his scales as you try to get him to let you go. It's barely leaving a chip on him while you feel your body getting slowly crushed. You are definitely not the type of food he was looking for. Your body is too soft and easy to snap compared to the usual mass he plays with. Most of the time, his prey is dead long before he can taste their despairing fear, but you are different, and Ghost can't stop licking the air for more. When he releases you for a moment, you make an adorable gasping sound as your lungs grasp for air, only to struggle again as he tightens his coil around you, squeezing down until your fear coats his tongue again. 

♡ Ghost does that a few times, releasing, tightening, tasting. It's as good of an amusement as any, and for the first time in ages, Ghost thinks about the fun of playing around and not being as lonely as a ghost in his part of the forest. He has seen cruelty beyond his needs for food and safety, so it's a nice change to have someone who struggles and fights him despite being hopeless. You might trash and scream when he takes you from his tail and throws you over his shoulder, but the little gasp you make seeing the skull on his back is music in Ghost's ears. He also gets to hear all kinds of sounds as he puts his large hands all over you since you wiggle around so much, finding even softer and squishier places on you that intrigue him.

♡ Soon enough, he drags you into the darkness of his cave and puts you down in his nest. It's not very comfy since he doesn't need it to be. However, he catches himself thinking that something as soft as you will need an equally soft place to stay. For now, you'll have to do with his body. His tail takes up a lot of space, so even though you quickly try to climb and escape the way you thought was the exit, Ghost just picks you up and sets you back down on top of him over and over, yawning as if it was but a mild annoyance while you try to stay alive despite being in his clutches. Eventually, though, he'll have enough of your activities, wrapping your legs in his tail and your body in his arms which are just as crushing. His scales rake all over your skin as he moves every feeling part of his to experience you. His hands wander out of curiosity about your legs and small stature compared to him, pulling at your clothes and slipping beneath them. He rarely thinks about companionship, but he considers it as he continues to taste the air around you, changing from pure fear to fearful arousal while his fingers grab onto your body like the hungry beast he is. Clothes are discarded easily, and as he sandwiches you between his tail and upper body, Ghost decides you are more useful to him alive than you'll ever be as a food source. For once, he'll have some real entertainment in his life ever since he grew out of his rebellious age. It's a more mature type of fun he hadn't considered yet with how rarely he takes an interest in others, and he's all the more excited as he drags his tongue over your body, tasting you for the first time.

♡ After that first encounter, he quickly decides to make you his mate. As such, he knows there are more important things than sleep and hunt he has to do now. Now, he has to protect and feed you (and fill you), find a bigger nest to accommodate your mateship properly, and occasionally hunt you through the forest since you seem to like it just as much as he does. (You never win, but it sure is exciting for him, terrifying for you.) But having been without a companion for so long, the thing Ghost enjoys the most is relaxing with you. For the first time in his life, he likes being awake so he can feel you sprawled out on his chest. He even takes you outside to lay in the sun or bathe in the river with him, carrying you around when your legs are too shakey after another successful mating session. Life finally has meaning to him, so he can't let you go back even when your eyes are filled with longing as you look towards the direction of your village. Because that meaning is you.

König (Got a bit long so I put it under the cut whoopsie lol)

♡ He is a curious fella that, unfortunately, suffers from his extreme size. It has made him an outcast and dangerous creature even with his kind. Since he needs a lot of food, he has been banned to the harsh mountain terrains so other nagas can survive without him cleaning out the forests of any living being. He rarely shows himself to humans. However, when he's in a feeding frenzy, everything is fair game, no matter if he regrets it afterward or not. I see him colored more in earthy tones, and though he is as wide as two men standing next to each other, his tail isn't as long, though still long enough to crush his prey comfortably by wrapping it around once. He has his fair share of scars and lost scales, but it gets very much overshadowed by his steeled muscles. Looks can kill is very much a motto from him. Otherwise, nothing about him is very prominent, allowing him to hide despite his size, especially between rocks and cliffs. Though, to be fair, if he had to fight anyone, he would easily win. 

♡ König might be shy, but he doesn't sleep as much as others of his kind, so he can actually experience things throughout the day while roaming his more earthy, rocky terrain. That also made him much more curious about the things that only happen throughout the day, like various visitors from the cities passing through the mountains he occupies. With a tail and strong arms, it's pretty easy for him to climb to any height, and he is intrigued by the humans he comes across since they are much less adapted than he is and still choose this path to travel back and forth. However, this terrain doesn't have much prey to offer. Thus he's plagued by hunger, which—mixed with his curiosity—makes him a dangerous entity to encounter, ready to snap at all times. Otherwise, he isn't openly hostile.

♡ It's very unfortunate that you had to cross the mountain while a storm brewed on the horizon, forcing you to take shelter in a cave. König didn't mean to follow you, but anyone rarely takes a detour in these parts of his territory. There's a moment of panic when he can't seem to find you as you hide from his sight, and he grows much more concerned about finding you than he should. You, however, get to see his tail slither by you a couple of times as you keep your mouth shut, hoping he won't find the entrance you ducked into. There's something blood-curdling about knowing there's a monster out there, apparently aware of your presence. You hope you can just hide until it loses interest. You're not that lucky.

♡ The rain makes it harder to taste you in the air, but König knows these mountains better than anyone. When he finally goes to the ground to spy into the cave, he couldn't see from high up his height, there is the human he was looking for. It's a relief to know you're okay, and his first instinct is to quickly shy away from your wide-open eyes staring at him. However, his tongue dips into the enclosed space, tasting the air. That, combined with those beautiful eyes he can't read, captivates him. You hold his gaze out of pure fear (which must mean he intrigues you too), your body shaking (König is sure that's because you're wet and it's cold), and when his tongue laps out again, he realizes that you must be scared and alone on this mountain while night falls. You're just a little human, after all. König feels bad for you, honestly. He should stay away, but seeing you so vulnerable tugs at his heartstrings. There's too much empathy in his big body to just leave, even though he knows he should. König can't help you, so why put you two in such a strange, precarious situation? He doesn't know how to make a fire, and you can't take the quicker way of falling and climbing down the mountain since you're so fragile. There are a hundred questions in his mind when he feels his stomach tighten with hunger. Thrashing his tail into the dirty ground, you jerk in surprise, and he slams his fist into his belly, refusing to acknowledge his beastly instincts. What would humans do in these situation? How can he help you?

♡  They huddle together. It's his instincts talking. The very same ones he's trying to ignore, but they are right. He might want to refuse the hunger that is making him salivate, but there are more instincts he usually keeps hidden. Ever since he left his birth family behind, he ignored the loneliness building inside of him, especially when the rest of his kind refused him as well. But not having used this ancient knowledge of his kind for so long, König doesn't know where this desire to protect and care for you comes from. All he knows is that you're cold, you keep looking at him "unafraid", and he doesn't really need food at the moment despite you looking very much like a snack. The sounds you make as he squeezes into the cave don't bother his hearing much, but he can't understand what you're saying, which is upsetting. Regardless, he keeps reassuring you that you'll be warm in no time as he pulls you against his chest and settles into his coils. At least he's feeling warm with your body snuggly against his.

♡ It's nice, he has to admit. Listening to your breathing, feeling your heartbeat. He didn't have much contact with anyone for a long time, so even though König has to hold you so he can make sure not to crush you under his body in this small space despite your wiggling, it's the closest to an embrace he has ever gotten. Strangely enough, this situation reminds him of his family and how infatuated his father was with his mate. How he, despite raising his children, was the only one allowed to huddle with König's "mother" and how his mate was his father's most precious possession. Having this kind of life companionship with another creature must be pretty nice. Someone who's warm and soft and who makes the air taste funny and tickles the rough patches on his skin. It would be nice to be less lonely on this mountain of his. To have someone he can explore with and build a nest for—just like his father did for his mate.

♡ König was planning on helping you get back on track once the storm and the night had passed, but he finds himself more and more attached to everything about you. Your tiny legs and the alluring scents coming from between them. Your little gasps and how nicely he can hold your body in his enormous hands. How vulnerable you are. And, of course, he grows attached to the illusions of companionship and killing the dreadful loneliness he was able to ignore until now. He doesn't really want to let you go by the time he had a taste of what you have to offer him. A living, breathing companion. Someone who can't tell him to leave because you don't speak the same language. Someone who has to accept his love out of fear that he doesn't realize you harbor for him. Though he fumbles and makes mistakes, König is keen on becoming a suitable mate for you, too, even if that means taking you to his burrow deeper inside the mountains. It'll be hard for you to leave on your own, but driven by his instincts, he can make it so you'll never want to go out without him. The thought of cozying up the place, preparing it for a family of his own, and then create this family with something as lovely as you are, gets his blood pumping, heart racing. Finally, he won't just have to still his curiosity from afar or become the monster everyone tells him he is. And suddenly, there are a million thoughts in his mind about everything his body and instincts know to do to a mate, overshadowing any doubt or questions he might have on how to make this work. Suddenly, there's only you, you, you, and his loneliness is gone. 

[meo-eiru]

MERU😭😭😭 i finally had a free moment to relax and the first thing i wanted to do was play hold your tongues and i've spent the last few hours pouring over how absolutely beautiful of a piece it is in storytelling and visuals. i genuinely have so much to gush over and idk where i should be doing it so into your inbox it goes. i apologise in advance, you also don't have to respond to this bc 1) i am aware it's gonna get vv long and 2) spoilers will definitely be mentioned

i hope sel knows what an absolute gem of a writer she is for executing all of this bc i am fucking gobsmacked by how well certain ideas and concepts were interwoven throughout the entire piece. maybe a lot of the things following are just my interpretations, but that's another thing i really really love — there's enough ambiguity in the prose to be able to infer it in so many different ways

first to the namesake of the game, ‘hold your tongues’ and the many connotations of tongues that are explored throughout; as symbols of liberation and entrapment that intermingle so so well. i feel like the game really delves into the struggles that women face in society, in relationships, just in general and i like how since it's done so through maelyn's own perspective, we're privy to a more complex and raw display of how deeply emotionally scarring it can be.

eric is a little bitch imo (i won't retract that statement ever) but the ever judgmental, taunting and superior tone he has as the ‘voice’ in maelyn's head speaks volumes of the character he possessed and the lasting impact it had on her. giving her dress to another man makes her ‘unfaithful’, the fact that it's emphasised that these are only ‘remains’ of a dress too — bc eric left her with shreds, physically, mentally. 

if we take the dress to act as a metaphor for maelyn herself, he left her in shreds.

in response to this, maelyn bites her tongue, so hard that it bleeds. it's restraint, quite literally biting back your anger and the feeling of being wronged. grounding yourself again to the harsh reality of it all, and it brings her back to the present moment when starling points it out.

we see a similar occurrence later on when maelyn relays her tongue ‘longing for a taste, was to be kept down.' so again, she stops herself (and i think the wording here is particularly interesting, that it was to be kept, so intrinsically this too may also link to how women are commonly taught to be submissive and forced to fit to certain standards). 

in both contexts, the act of biting the tongue can be taken as a suppression of some sort of desire — the first is the desire to be mad, and the second is the desire of lust. both which women have been criticised for through the ages.

i also like to think that the tongue is a representation of freedom. starling is very much making wings to fly out of them, and taking them away from ppl has ‘forever deprived of their ability to lie’ (in which case lying = freedom, i won't expand on this too much bc it'll be another whole essay😭) so going back to maelyn, her biting hers can also be seen as her freedom being hurt, prevented.

another thing is, the line just before ‘he never ran out of tongues’, we can take this as starling never having his freedom threatened. and it poses further questions. is this because of his strength? is it because he has the ocean ‘wholly’? is it because he's a ‘man’?

on my first run through, one of the most prominent questions i came away w/ was what was it that attracted maelyn to starling? to the concept of these monsters of the sea that had surpassed human constraints that had her waiting out all those hours to catch a glimpse of one to begin with. what was it that kept her coming back? time and time again, day after day when she could've not gone back to that shore after leaving.

the text narrates a couple of things that i think contributed, there's a sense of warring humanity and animosity in the repetitive motifs of dirt and uncleanliness, in her noting that starling looked ‘half a man’ and that one half could've ‘consumed’ the other. maelyn has an envy that's touched upon frequently. does maelyn want to be closer to a monster so that no one can hurt her? or does she feel like a monster is all she can be now?

then there's a dynamic with power that was honestly done so well. again, my praise to sel for how well thought out it all was. that part where she put her hand into his guts and he made sounds he was ‘unable to control’, another when she tells him ‘cut’ and he does so without question — she recognises she holds the reins in that moment, acknowledges, ‘in control, I breathed.’ 

starling listens to her for the most part, it's a reoccuring theme. even when making his wings, he's following her instructions although it's made clear that he learns quick and is capable. perhaps this gives her comfortability.

but we see this turn on its head when things start to go left, starling begins to do as he pleases and maelyn is taken back into her trauma, back to feeling ‘disgusting’ and ‘unclean’, she even apologises and promises to do better.

leashes are mentioned a few times, maelyn first describes them as a sort of ‘necklace’ — perhaps this is tribute to the way a woman's submission is often beautified and normalised. the ‘leash’ starling puts on her in one of the ends is made of pearls, he keeps it in his mouth before this. could this be a reference to eric's sweet words that bound maelyn before he revealed himself? starling ties it somewhat loosely ‘so she could breathe’ yet that doesn't take away the fact that it's still there. it has a sort of your cage is not small, but that doesn't mean you're not locked in it kinda feel.

there's so much more i could say but i think ive alr said too much😭 i didnt even get to touch on the cuddle ending which was my favourite, or the symbolism of losing fingers, the significance of the numbers two, three and four to the story. I DIDN'T EVEN TALK MUCH ABT THE ART😭😭 MERU SORRY I GOT DISTRACTED BUT THE ART WAS PHENOMENAL❗️❗️❗️❗️

maelyn is super pretty and i love how her and starling contrast each other in design so nicely. starling's expressions were stellar ++ the bgs and cgs were beautiful (you're right, if you didn't clarify it i would think you were behind the chest one haha). also the body horror aspect was really brought to life with the visuals and ik it definitely mustn't have been easy drawing all those organs, thank you for your service meruuuu

i'll shut up here before i write another 3k, but both you and sel did such a great job w/ this. the two of you deserve a nice break to rest so pls make sure to take things easy and take care of yourselves!! drink water and sleep when you can, and know that you've made a masterpiece♥️

OH MY GOD THIS ASK IS MAKING ME GO FERAL

It's so well written??? You did such a good job picking up the details hidden behind their lines??? I fish you continued writing because I for sure did not want to finish it and please do send the other thoughts you had if you can, I love this so much

I'm sure @celerifleuri will too so I'll tag her

You already mentioned the spoilers at the start but I'll also note it down here for people who haven't played the game yet. I'm sure sel will do a much better job answering your story analyses but I'll also say you're completely right with most things you've said.

The story takes place in 1800s with dated gender roles we unfortunately can still relate to. Maelyn is a curious woman who wants to study and experiment, but is being held back by society and even people who she thought she could trust, but again Sel will do a better job explaining those.

I'll talk about the art a bit. One thing I really enjoyed that was kinda unintentional on my part was the use of night and day.

The story starts at night time, the first ever cg we get of Maelyn is her jumping down the cliff, with the moon's reflection on her left and the waves giving an illusion of wings as she looks up, in that very moment she is free.

On the other hand the first ever cg of Starling is day time. The sun is shining brightly from his left, almost blindingly, as he looks down. His hair covering the screen like spider webs.

To contrast these, it's night time in the wood ending. Just like the first cg of Maelyn, we can see the soft moonight shining upon them but not quite reaching Starling's face. Maelyn is alive.

Meanwhile in the bone ending, even though they are underwater we can tell it's day time, just like the first Starling cg. We get to see a glimpse of them through the seaweeds covering our view, the sunlight showering them gently. Starling is alive.

For the character designs too, a bit of a reverse but I'd say Maelyn resembles the sun, meanwhile Starling is like the moon.

They both share green eyes, although quite different shades. Maelyn has bright red hair that contrasts Starling's red tongue tail.

I also like that Maelyn's hair, albeit a bit loosely, is braided and kept tidy. Meanwhile Starling's hair is usually all over the place and quite messy.

[lennadanvers]

Pure Imagination: going to the thrift store with him

Eddie Munson x Reader

Eddie’s clothes are rarely new-new. Money’s always been tight, and you can’t get most of his favorite bands’ merch brand new in the tiny and boring Hawkins. So he goes to the (only) thrift store in town.

He’s bought some of his signature pieces there, and there’s always fun stuff. He used to go with Wayne all the time, whenever his uncle had a couple hours to spare. It’s one of the first places they went to when Eddie moved in with him. He didn’t have more than what he was wearing when he knocked on the trailer’s door, so Wayne helped him find some badass t-shirts and a couple jeans. He bought his first patch there.

As he grew up and started being able to take care of himself, his uncle stopped going with him. Wayne had to get as many shifts as possible to provide for the both of them; so he was always working or sleeping.

It’s okay. Eddie hasn’t needed help to try on clothes for a long time, and his uncle always let him decide what to wear anyway. But he likes to talk. And he gets bored easily. Besides, it’d be a shame if you missed the absolute treasures he’s found hidden in the racks.

Also, Eddie saw you once in there.

It was summer. The boiling sun came across the dirty front window and made your legs look golden. Your not-so-clean sneakers tapped on the floor at the rhythm of the music the owner had playing. Your dress- a sundress that had his nerves at risk of extinction- was short and light, flowing in the hot air the standing fan blew uselessly. You had your hair up. On one hand, it was a shame because he likes the way it moves. On the other, it left your neck naked. Eddie is almost sure he saw a tiny mole under your jaw. He wonders how it tastes.

You were looking through the teacups. As you lifted a small one with a silver edge and blue flowers, you smiled. Eddie found himself wondering if there were any castles around Hawkins- maybe he would get lucky, find one with an egocentric prince, get cursed and become a teacup. Would you like a black, metal teacup?

He felt both like a stalker and a little kid seeing his crush out in the wild. Still does, whenever he catches a glimpse of you.

Catches is kind of an understatement, though. He hunts traces of you.

Eddie is a sunflower. Hawkins is a very dark, very depressing and closed place. He’s trapped in it. But sometimes, when he hears your name or your laugh, he swears there’s a ray of sun in the corner. Like the very dark, very depressing place isn’t as closed as he thought. Like there is, in fact, a way out. Like you’re there, and that’s all he needs to survive.

So he stretches and stretches, grows in your direction- day and night, even when it looks like you’re not there anymore. Like a faraway ray of sunshine, you’ve never touched him, never made contact. Like a warm beam of light, you don’t know he’s there, don’t know his survival depends on you- it’d be impossible for you to know.

It's okay, though. He’s going to stretch as long and as far as he can.

He does so by pretending you’re telling him to try on the ridiculous jacket at the end of the rack. He chuckles to himself and pictures you wearing the awfully pink cowboy hat, and blushes when your imaginary voice smiles at him with a “’howdy!”. He doesn’t like cowboys- or cowgirls- particularly, but he likes you.

The phantom of you follows him to the fitting room, where he tries on jeans and t-shirts. Eddie has always been a little histrionic, so he enjoys having an audience. Even if it is an imaginary one. He twirls around, hoping to make you giggle. Agrees with you that those pants are a little too tight, but that he should get the shirt, though. And the sweater. He jokes- internally- that you’re going to wear it more often than him, he wishes.

Sometimes he spends a little too long daydreaming. Looking at you trying on skirts and boots, listening to your laugh, inventing stories to explain how each thing ended up in the thrift store.

Eddie likes talking. A lot. And it’s a little lonely going shopping all by himself.

He’s so lucky to have you.

I'm sorry it took so long. I have this thing where I start writing and then it sits there forever until I force myself to finish things. I like this, though. Hope you guys liked it <3

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, just let me know!

Taglist: @whataboutbibi @hellfirenacht @daisyridleyss

Masterlist here

[poppy-metal]

wolfgirl!reader with her salivating tongue and sharp teeth and blood-caked nails and predatory instincts and fawn!art with his wet eyes and trembling lower lip and his pathetic whimpers as he looks at the big bad wolf stalking towards him. but he’s also so so confused because why is his cock rock hard at the sight of you? :((

unfffffr

and wolf!girl really was planning on eating him too is the thing </3 he's the one who wondered into her terf, anyway. on any other day she'd rip him apart, her razor sharp fangs tearing into his soft flesh like it was butter. making a meal out of him, dripping with blood and viscera.

it just so happens she's in heat :(( and she's been so aggravatingly horny lately - no males around because she'd scared them all off when she was protecting her territory a few months ago. she doesn't have a pack, which is rare - a lone shewolf in heat is even more rare. she's hungry, yes, but an even deeper hunger resides in her cunt. the closer she stalks fawn!art and catches his scent, gets a good look at his pretty face and physique - when she catches a glimpse of his pink cock hanging between his legs as he trembles her motives change quickly.

art goes from becoming her next meal to becoming her mate - however reluctant he may pretend to be - she can scent his arousal in the air anyway.

interspecies mating between predator and prey hybrids isn't common but it isn't unheard of - and her clenching pulsing pussy leaves no room for debate. she circles him until he's backed all the way towards her den, licking her sharp teeth that have begun to drip with drool.

she pounces right when he looks as if he's about to try and flee - locking her jaws around his delicate throat and pinning him down. the temptation to sink her teeth in and puncture his supple flesh is there - but her need is more important - and she needs his warm and alive to fill her where she's aching and empty. still she presses her teeth in just a little, letting her tongue out to trace his fluttering pulse, hummingbird fast. he smells and tastes so good. she rumbles deep in her chest, pleased with him.

and art - for all his fear and terror of being torn to shreds and devoured - feels a pleasant warmth spread down his body at this rumbling sound coming from this carnivore. his confused cock twitches and unsheathes from its softer foreskin, almost like it's reaching out for her - seeking the warmth emanating from between her legs.

"p - p - please." he whimpers. doesn't know what he's begging for. his trembling hands shake as they come up to gently rest on the wolfgirls waist, clenching his eyes shut in fear of what she'll do. but she just huffs against his throat and rumbles some more, and he holds her more firmly. finally scenting the sickly sweet scent of her arousal in the air, similar to the smell of female deer!hybrids when they go into heat - but headier - more like sap than sugar. darker and more seductive. his dick leaks precum. "t - take what you want," he whispers. tries to sound as meek and gentle as possible. "I'll be good. I'll be good, I promise."

he tells himself it's for survival he's making the promise to not run, and not because he wants this as much as she does.

[sxcret-garden]

oohoo could you do a mtl of ateez members to have a sex playlist and fuck you to the rhythm of the songs <3 (please no cbat LMAOJSSKSIS)

OMG this is such a good question!! (And way easier to answer than the other one i got so imma start with this one nxbznxnxnx)

most

Mingi

Wooyoung

Hongjoong

Yunho

San

Jongho

Seonghwa

Yeosang

least

Okay so Mingi and Wooyoung are clear winners for me here. Like they're just so the type to do this, actually sitting down with the intention of creating you a sex playlist, and they'd be SO GOOD at making it too??? They're both gonna throw the most sensual, explicit songs on there, but the playlist is still gonna have style and not be cringy or too much. Though I wouldn't put it past Wooyoung to sneak an atz song on there for the heck of it (it's you???) and then be very upset in case you complain and very proud of himself if you cum during one of his parts 👀

Hongjoong would go about this systematically, sneakily asking what you think about some of the songs he's considering putting on the list but without letting you know about his intentions, and then building a playlist around that. He wants it to match your taste exactly, so you would enjoy yourself as much as possible once he turns it on and goes down on you to the music. Lots of sensual slow songs on there to leave you with an amazing experience

Yunho is a bit similar to Hongjoong, just that he'd be more relaxed about it. He'd definitely cater the playlist more to your tastes than to his own, but he'll never plan to surprise you with it. Quite the opposite actually, it soon becomes a fun little project for the two of you, and you're having way too much fun tweaking it and changing things up to make THE perfect sex playlist for you two. Needless to say, it'll get used quite a lot, even before it's been perfected

San too will one day have the idea of making you a sex playlist (most likely when he misses you and somewhat sadly jerks off to a song that reminds him of you jdhdjdjd). But it will probably end up in chaos cause he'll just throw random songs on there that make him think of you, and somewhere halfway through it isn't even a sex playlist anymore jdhdjdjd you'll be thankful if you never get to hear the first version during sex, but he will at some point reveal the original idea to you, so you can make a playlist that'll satisfy the both of you together!

Jongho strikes me as the type to get hooked on the idea of making you two a sex playlist after reading about it online or hearing about one of his friends having made one. And he's going to spend sooooo much time considering what to put on it, to the point he's still not finished after months, and refuses to even explain what that playlist with the weird emojis on his phone is when you catch a glimpse of it and ask him about it. And it's not that the playlist is bad, not at all, he's just so nervous about what you would think that he simply ends up never using it, rip xjbxnxnx (that's until you finally manage to convince him to at least let you listen to it, and once you tell him it's pretty nice actually that'll give him the confidence to turn it on during sex)

Seonghwa and Yeosang aren't at the bottom cause I wouldn't ever see them making a sex playlist, but because I think it isn't as likely. For Seonghwa I do see him getting the idea, but I think he'd struggle with figuring out what you'd like and what would fit and he'd definitely ask one of the others for advice. As for Yeosang I do think he'd be willing to make one if it's something that comes up in a conversation with you, he just wouldn't get the idea on his own. Might also prefer making it together with you, so you can make sure both of you will like the end result without him having to be anxious about whether you'd like his song choices or not when first letting you listen to the playlist!

[peppermintbiotics]

Things we know: Leander

this is mainly a post to summarize (and draw conclusions from) the info we get on leander from the demo (bc he is the one i can make least sense of and i need to change that :’D)

read more for length. tl;dr: we may have to pay more attention to the fogfall and how it relates to leander

let’s get started with a quick overview of the scenes he appears in: - we first get a glimpse at him from the posters advertising him and his services with his silhouette, the name of his group (”bloodhounds”), and the phrase “as above, so below” printed on it

curiously, this phrase is, among other occult connections, associated with the rider-waite depiction of the magician card in tarot that is often interpreted as a conduit between the spiritual and the mundane/the world at large and man himself. given that leander is explicitly referred to as a mage, this feels very much intentional

- we find leander in “the wet wick”, a bar in the entertainment district, filled with people in green cloaks (the bloodhounds) and leander on a table, putting on a magic show for them (not sure if it’s relevant but leander is wearing gilded boots). he conjures up lilies (the magic is described as pale green, so i assume the lilies are the same) and offers them to mc

in this instance, and in general, leander is heavily associated with the color green

an alchemist mc will note that leander doesn’t use incantations or spell circles, implying he wields immense power

- leander then takes mc to the bar counter, deduces it’s their first time in eridia and offers them a drink. mc asks him for help to get to the senobium, the bloodhounds don’t react well to it, and leander takes mc outside, warning them against the senobium and asking to see their curse (after warding against it). mc is hesitant but ends up touching him

if you choose to touch him, leander grins and reassures mc that he is fine. if you hesitate, he grabs your hand, his expression goes blank, and he goes so far as to reach for your throat before catching himself (unclear whether this is just mc’s perception or whether his control really slips there)

an alchemist mc will recognize the ward as an enchantment for protection

- leander confirms that mc’s curse is one of a kind and offers them a room at the bar (that the barkeeper apparently keeps for him and his “escapades”). later, while mc is accompanying kuras and mhin to the bar, we see him pour shots for ais and vere. the group shares a drink (ais noting that leander “has tried to kill [him] a dozen times by now”). kuras and mhin head off to discuss their business with leander

- in his epilogue, aside from telling mc his opinion on the other characters, leander offers mc to let them touch him again (red choice lets you touch his face) and stresses that if they need “a taste of normalcy”, he’ll be there

notable: leander is the only character who doesn’t seem to actively dislike anybody (although the “rivalry” with ais doesn’t feel convincing to me)

all in all, the demo tries very hard to give him an aura of normalcy, which, of course, makes him pretty suspicious. the other characters’ reactions to him are also fairly telling, in my opinion

kuras expresses confidence in him, although he finds the company he keeps questionable. when mc calls the bloodhounds “rough around the edges”, he says leander prefers the company of those like him, implying leander is the same, and that his people trust him with their lives

ais talks about his charm and how it has gotten leander far. he also says leander has done a good job (for a human) but that his resolve will be tested in the future

mhin blushes at the mention of leander and calls him an idiot (in typical tsundere fashion) who can’t shut up to save his life. they compliment his work as well (with a tone that is “almost fond”)

vere is the most colorful with his expressions, calling leander a “pathetic, slimy, little man child in big shiny shoes”

what strikes me as somewhat curious is that leander is the only character to not voice a direct personal opinion on the senobium, although he does disapprove of the way they treat vere. additionally, his worst relationship is with vere, who is a prisoner of the senobium and subsequently hates ist, while his best relationships are with people who either seek entry to the senobium (mhin) or openly have business with it (kuras; though how close that connection is remains to be seen, given that he does mess with a senobium cleric lmao) (leander does have a good relationship with ais on the surface but something is straining it, especially since his relationship chart describes his “murder attempts” as being “funny...until they’re not”). at this moment i’m not entirely convinced he has a direct connection to the senobium but i certainly think it’s a possibility.

a much stronger connection, in my opinion, is fogfall. the prologue describes it as “spectral mist [that] bled from the seams where reality wore so thin it split.” ais also offhandedly mentions planes in his dialogue about leander’s resolve (direct quote being “Naturally, there’ll come a time when his resolve is tested. Same could be said for anyone, in this plane or the next.”). while this turn of phrase seems to reference an existence after death, it has to be considered that monsters (such as vere and ais) did emerge from the fog and thus from those seams in reality. whether or not the fabric of reality seperated distinct planes of existence remains to be seen but given the information we have, it’s likely. now, how does that relate to leander? for that we have to consider the phrase on his poster and its common usage. as mentioned previously, “as above so below” is a phrase strongly associated with bridging the gap between either the world and man, or, which is quite interesting in this case, the gap between different planes of existence (also known as the theory of correspondence in theology). and that second association fits very well into the worldbuilding established by the game. my guess? he’s either some sort of “barrier maiden” or has some sort of connection to either the fogfall itself or the plane that lies beyond it.

where does that leave us? while you could theorize that leander is a monster as well since they came from the fog, i don’t think that’s very likely. leander is the only character to not have a monstrous shadow on his character card; his is the only one to simply have a human form. the other possibilities are, then, that it’s either his personality that is the monstrous part of him or it’s his magic - it’s green, just as his eyes (which is drawn attention to multiple times), and his character’s shadow’s defining feature is his glowing eyes. i suspect it will be the latter but i’m open to be suprised :’D

in conclusion,

[zombii-ships]

SDJ BOYS: KINK HEADCANNONS

sorry if these are ooc i was just brainstorming and bein a horny nerd

Jack

-World’s biggest breeding kink. Dude’s absolutely got a huge thing for claiming his partner, and he loves to watch his cum spill back out of them.

-Praise. PRAISE HIM. PLEASE. Tell him how good he makes you feel and he’s over the fucking moon. He’s so motivated by praise, the simplest “you’re making me feel so good” is gonna flip such a switch in his head.

-Makeup/Body Paint. Whether it’s seeing his partner in clown paint, painting their body and feeling them up, his own makeup smearing on them, or theirs running on their face, he loves it. Jack’s immediately down for round two if he catches a glimpse of his partner’s liner/lipstick on his chest.

-Foodplay. You thought whipped cream was just for the pancakes? Surprise surprise!

Joseph

-Size Difference. Loves feeling big compared to his partner, whether he’s topping or bottoming, he loves the difference. Loves seeing his partner in his clothes, especially his jackets and pajama pants. Put on something of his and its gonna ignite something in him.

-Voice Kink. He LOVES getting to hear his partner, if they make a noise while they stretch? He’s horny. Moan? Horny. Whisper in his ear? Horny. So so easily stirred if he’s the one who gets you to make noise for him, too~

-Hickies. MARK. HIM. UP. PLEASE. Dude absolutely loves getting to show off what his partner did to him, he wears them like badges of honor.

-Bonus, I know he’s an absolute FIEND for giving head and he loves just knowing that he’s pleasuring his partner. Dude’s a total pleasure top.

Shaun

-A nut for roleplay. Pet/Owner, Slasher/Final Survivor, Vampire/Prey, whatever, dude LOVES playing a little horny pretend with his partner.

-Masks. Ghostface, leatherface, pyramid head, gas masks, he loves the mystery there and he finds it really hot. Goes along with his roleplay kink, but either way, he’s super into it.

-Exhibitionism. Give him the go to make porn of yall and he’s gonna go nuts. Something about filming the deed or just you getting off turns him tf ON. Plus if he can go back and show you the footage?? “Look how pretty you looked here. Fuck- lemme rewind so I can hear that sound again~”

-Monster/Abnormal Toys. What’s a horror junkie without some monster dildos??

Nick

-Begging. Beg HIM. Beg him for whatever, doesn’t even have to be sexual, he just loves it. He just wants to hear you pleading with him, asking for his permission.

-Shibari. Let him make your body into art. The more intricate the better. Whether it’s simple ties or a whole full body production, it’s the artistry and the restraint that really gets him, plus seeing you wrapped up for the taking isn’t half bad either. Bonus points if he gets to do pretty harnesses and collars ✨

- Waxplay/Temperature Play. You or him, but mainly you I think. You’re the canvas and he’s the painter, and he’s obsessed with how you let him paint you. Whether it be pretty dark colored wax, gently touching you with ice, or just warm hands against your skin, he loves your reactions, watching you squirm between the different sensations.

-Oral Fixation. Don’t suck on his fingers unless you wanna rile his ass up

Ian

-Cosplay/Costumes. IF YOU LET HIM DRESS YOU UP he’s going to go absolutely feral. Ian’s a fashion fan, so seeing you in something he specifically coordinated to look good on you and to his personal tastes would have him going over the deep end. He’s literally obsessed.

-Blindfolds. Now I know he’s scared of being left alone, but I think he’d enjoy the rush of giving up control to you like that, letting you touch and trail over his body without knowing what’s next would have him super sensitive and needy in seconds. Plus if you let him blindly roam his hands over you?? He’s about to get SO handsy.

-Also a roleplay guy. He’s an actor, let him get into a role! Not only is he excited to make the bit convincing, but he might slip pretty deep into it, local man gets horny from improv.

-Body Writing. Write all your favorite things about him on his body, and let him put his signature on you?? Dude would be over the moon going about his day with your words of praise written on his chest, tummy and hips.

[lupineaerosol]

traveler | thomas shelby x f!reader

Not my image!

pairing : thomas shelby x time traveled!reader

word count : 3,831 :P

summary : a trip to scotland for a belated birthday celebration turns into a blast from the past when you find yourself in 1919 with no chance of getting home, until you meet someone on a train to London that tells you he can help your situation and get you a visa....

warnings : angsty at times, near death experience (hypothermia), inspector campbell being creepy for the plot, bad writing, i have no concept of how much money a british pound is so ??, warnings will change with each chapter so please read them carefully!

notes : reader is 23-27 but no specified age, this is kind of an Outlander A.U. where the reader travels through a stone circle (or cairn for this one lolz) and goes back in time

a.n. : this chapter is technically an intro to the rest of the plot that ties in with the canon + vvv descriptive bc thats my writing style :P + also i suck at summaries + just recently got back into writing as a hobby, so this might be absolute trash but I'm very proud. if anyone has any issues with the content or what i write about because it goes against anything online please let me know so i can fix it!!

Not my image!

The black hoodie clings to your skin, sopping wet and forcing a chill through your skin. In the split second it took to regain consciousness, you realize your clothes are soaked, and judging at how badly you're shivering and that you're face-down in the grass, you've been asleep in the rain for god knows how long. Rolling over the damp grass to sit up, you catch a glimpse at the location you find yourself, the cairn outside the small town you had been staying at in Scotland on vacation. 

The sky was dim, sunrise slowly encroaching over the heavy raindrops on the hills. Sitting against one of the boulders of the cairn, a shaky breath leaves your chest, fanning out in front of your face. Through the near hypothermia that's started to quickly make you sweat, a deep uneasiness started to take root, but you were far too panicked to acknowledge it in the moment.

You jumped to your feet, realizing how little time you have alive could be without action, rubbing your hands together for as much friction they could create, dancing your legs in place to wake your body back up. Attempting a warm breath into your hands barely helped your frigid and close-to-death state. The cold was numbing, the fog in your brain was all around you, mentally and physically, keeping the hilltop the cairn sat upon as an island amidst a sea of grey. And suddenly there was a faint light approaching. 

The candlelight within the squeaking lamp softened the mist, making it far more inviting than the haze the man emerged from. Your shivers halted abruptly, the uneasiness bubbled up from your stomach to your throat, a foul taste in the back of your mouth spread over your tongue. 

"'ello!! 'ello is anyone out 'ere?!" The man's shoulders shook with a powerful Scottish accent, and a strong sense of safety accompanied it. Alas, the shivers returned in full force.

"Here!" Your voice broke sharply. "I-I'm over here!" Attempting to speak up through the shakes and ambiance of early dawn proved difficult, your breathing overtaken by the cold and feverish urge to survive. 

And luck was on your side today, for the first time.

"Hello?" The gentleman turned to the sound of your voice, not expecting to find you curled in a ball and soaked to the bone. And in strange clothes that were quite unseemly for a woman of your age. The outer layer that draped over you and the denim that clad your legs were downright outlandish to the man in front of you. 'Damn Americans and their strange styles of dress'  He thought to himself quickly, before stepping lightly over to you, helping you up, and taking his overcoat off to throw across your shoulders.

The warmth was welcomed greatly. You nearly stopped shivering for a moment as the smell of worn and slightly wet leather, cologne and fire overtook you. It was the most definitive thing you could grasp on to in the few minutes, or hours, you had been conscious of.

"Ma'am, what are you doing out here at the time of morn'? You'll catch yourself a death of a cold out in this weather for much longer." The older man took your hand and led you to his carriage and horse. What am I doing out here? The reasoning escaped you through the fog, but you caught a glimpse.

A stone in your hands, turning in your palm as you walk the grounds of a historic castle. Your phone died in your hands mid photo, with the cairn in the fading pixels.

Where are you?

Your slowly warming hand finds its way into the soaked pocket of your hoodie, and alas, no such stone was to be found. Your cell phone and wallet remained, but judging by the man assisting you, there didn't seem to be much hope in asking if he had a charger you could borrow.

He paused to let you lean against the large wooden wheel of his cart, waiting a moment before speaking. A gentler tone took his voice. "Ma'am, do you remember how you got out here?"

The fog had cleared, both in your mind, and as the first bits of sunlight rose from the eastern horizon. After a pregnant pause, you responded.

"I'm vacationing here, from America." That much was true, you were from America and you were here on vacation, the only question was when you were visiting. You had flown over in a modern plane, taken a modern train from London to Edinburgh, and then a taxi to Inverness. The man in front of you made a subtle face of surprise, as if the journey you have described could have taken over 6 months, when in it only took 2 days for you to be a quarter of the way around the globe.

"I'm sorry you've found yerself so far from home, Inverness 's not a place I would expect an American to want to travel." The man moved the lantern from his hand to a metal bar attached to the seat of the carriage. He busied himself with his gloves. "If I'm correct, you're shivering out of yer britches and startin' to sweat at the same time." You nodded quickly, sharp pins and needles erupting from the skin you moved. The man brushed his hand over his chin, considering his options. 

"My daughter Isa will have coffee and a warm hearth awaitin'. Once you've warmed up we can 'elp you return to wherever ye came from." The man sounded less than enthusiastic to have an American in his home, but the desperate need of your medical situation demanded his unwilling help. No one wanted to have any connection to a dead foreigner found at a locally mysterious site known for having a frequency of people going missing when visiting.

He helped you up onto the bouncing wooden seat. The smell of horse and leather of the reigns was the second most tangible thing you could consider basing your reality off of. This was obviously not the 21st century. A young woman, possibly anywhere in the 1830's to the 1940's (judging the man's attire and horse) in a foreign country with no possible way of proving her existence via official documents. That was the reality of the matter. You had no idea when you were, and if there was a possibility of getting back to the modern day.

Focus, and compartmentalize. There will be time to deal with the larger issues later on. Don't freeze to death, and then figure out what time and day it is. Gently and slowly returning to work, your brain made its first decision of this strange crisis: Deal with it later. In the meantime, you were able to do a quick mental diagnostic ; Legs work, fingers bend and grab, your stomach growls and you understand that your guts and heart still work, you've spoken to the man, so obviously your mouth and voice still work just fine. The only outlier was what year you were inhabited by accident.

The gentleman took one last glance at the girl who had barely spoken, and urged his horse forward toward the gentle outline of a stone town a few miles away.

-

The fire overtook the crisp and clammy feeling that crawled over your body. Heat licked at your hair and half exposed arms. You had met the man's daughter, Isa, and she had practically thrown a warm cup of half brewed coffee out of half awake panic. Although your father walking into your kitchen with a strange young woman at barely 5 in the morning would alarm you as well.

Adding to the alarm, Isa was just as perplexed about your strange, "American" clothes. She was convinced no one was strange enough to wear those clothes willingly, and since you were of similar size with Isa, she gave you a few of her old clothes to wear as you warmed in front of the fire. A bulky, tan skirt slightly too tight at the waist and a thin, loose in the bosom white blouse. You sat at the hearth with a large blanket draped over your shoulders, reminiscent of the smell of the man's overcoat. 

Your clothes draped near the fire, steam coming off of your printed socks with cats on them. Isa had commented about the craftsmanship and how expensive they must have been. You barely muttered a response that would have made sense. All that time spent taking notes in World History class, and you remember nothing about Britain and Scotland after the Revolutionary war or before WWII. The grip on your phone was tight and you quietly pondered as to how you were going to keep it hidden while you were here. There was hope to get home. At least for now. 

"So you really can't remember anything?" Isa leaned over to place the back of her hand over your warm forehead. 

"Nothing from before your father found me." You only partially lied, you can't directly remember how you ended up at the cairn.

"But you remember your name, right?" Isa sat back in her chair, reaching for a cup of coffee on the dining table. 

"Oh, right, sorry. My name is (y/n)." Your answer was curt, unrevealing as possible. 

The morning dragged on. The sun was up, the clock on the wall above the sink read 7:46. Time. 

"What day is it?" You asked quietly into your coffee while attempting to cool it off. 

"Wednesday." Isa had been buzzing around the kitchen, completing various tasks but while also keeping an eye on you. Her father had toddled off somewhere else in the house, his footsteps were heard, but not yet seen in daylight. "But if you would like the specifics, it's Wednesday, February 5th, in the year 1919." 

"Thank you, Isa." 

-

Hours later and lots of planning around the limited memory you spoke about having, it was decided that Isa's father would lend you a 20 pound note he had been saving (He was subtly adamant you got his address to mail money back to him) for the trains to London, and Isa gifted you a few of her mother's worn skirts and blouses.

The plan was for you to travel back to London and hopefully return to either your home country or your family, though you knew both of these things were problematic. Isa's father, Robert, had left around 8 to ask around the town about your family, or anyone who may have traveled with you. No one had a clue. You thanked both of them urgently, and with deep appreciation. A small mental note was categorized that you should repay more than just the 20 pounds, kindness as bountiful as had been shown to you was deserved of a larger reward.

A short walk with many stumbles to the train station back to Edinburgh. The heels of your company's shoes clicked against the raised wooden deck parallel to the stone station. 

"Thank you both, for your generosity." You gripped at the skirt that fell to the tips of your toes barely covered your Chuck Taylor Converse. Isa smiled gently, holding a worn and broken leather carrying case out to you to take.

"I can't do enough to pay you all back." You made a note to include Isa's mother in the thanks, as she was also indirectly gifting you items.

"Goin' home safe," a large pause entered the conversation following Robert's comment. Isa had earlier explained that her father has a strange and unusual issue with Americans. Especially visiting somewhere like Inverness. "-Is all we can pray for." His voice was genuine, but with a hint of resentment. Not towards you, but aimed at something far larger than you. Robert was odd. Everything is odd. If you were only slightly more deranged, you would be acting just as cold and bitter as he was. 

The train whistle was enough to make you jump out of your skin slightly, and the final call for boarding passengers was announced by the conductor.

"Again, thank you both. Your kindness is appreciated more than you can imagine." Taking the bag from Isa's hands, the heft slightly surprised you, but recovered as you walked up the steps to the train. Part of you wanted to stay, see what life you could carve here while trying to get home through the cairn. The other part of you understood that there isn't a choice in going home. 

A large smile was across Isa's face when you found her among the scattered people on the raised deck, her father seemed to have already walked away and started on the walk home. A smile and wave and the train chugged into motion, steam flying behind the glass. You catch your reflection briefly. (y/e/c) eyes and an ill greenish grey colour clung to your skin, the grey skies unrelenting in their goal to forbid sunlight from reaching Scotland’s soil. It was pitiful to see yourself like this, a homesick and anxious ache bloomed in your gut. Settling into the steady chugging, the warmth of the shirt on your shoulders, and the steadiness of your seat beneath you was reality enough to coax you into a well deserved sleep. 

-

A clamorous crash awoke you from the short nap your body allowed, the train had stopped, and with it came your carrying case from the weak storage compartment situated above your head. Calming your racing heart, you leaned over to stand and pick the dry leather handle from the floor and returned the hefty item to its previous place. A huff of breath while you fall into your seat, and your pulse finally calms down. You looked out the glass at the yellow train station sign reading the carefully painted words ‘Welcome to Manchester’ slowly. 

People filed onto and off of the individual train cars, and soon enough your train car was mostly filled, all except the private aisle you suddenly shared with an older man in a bowler hat and bulky, black overcoat. Scanning him as he took the opposing corner seat in the small room.  Everything about this man was understated, his tie held no colour, nor did his vest or suitcoat. The only colour to bespeckle this man was the icy blue of his eyes, weathered by age, and his salt and pepper hair and mustache.

He carried and opened a file of paperwork close to his chest, but sitting across from him it was easy to see that he had no intention of keeping the title private; ‘TOP SECRET, SPECIAL BRANCH, BSA MUNITIONS ROBBERY : PRIME’- Suspects, finishing the sentence you couldn’t read fully. With the amount of heist movies you watched before you were thrown back in time gave you a good inference that this man was police, or whatever British version of the FBI that happened to exist in 1919.

You were shocked the man didn’t seem to acknowledge your existence in the train car, until he swiftly checked to see where your eyes had been trailing and caught you staring directly at the opened folder.

“Has your family yet taught you that staring is quite rude?” A gruff and grumbled voice projected from beneath his bushy mustache. You removed your eyes quickly from the grey-green envelope. He carried the corners back towards each other, closing the file to place it on his lap.

“They did, I apologize.” You moved to turn your body away from him, crossing your left leg over your right to lean against the window, eyes dragging sleepily over the quickly passing trees. You hadn’t even been aware the train had started moving again. Your accent seemed to surprise the man.

“American?” He queried. You nodded, turning your head back to look in his direction. “If I may be so bold and ask, are you traveling to London?”

“Yes, actually. I hope to travel home once I arrive there.” You pondered quickly over the depth of information you wanted to share with the man. “I lost my passport while visiting Inverness, I need to speak to the police in London to figure out how I can get home without it.” 

The man’s mustache lifted gently with a slight smile. “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing we met today, my name is Chester Campbell, I’m an Inspector with the Scotland yard. I can get you a travel visa in Birmingham tomorrow, and then the day after you can be on a boat in London sailing back to the states.” He enthusiastically put his hand to his knee, outwardly excited for the upcoming few days. Your warning alarms were blaring in your head, but you doubted this man would let you stray away from the plan he just created.

“May I see your identification?” You hoped he would be too excited to hear in your voice how deeply you distrusted him. “It’s awfully dangerous for a young woman like myself to be traveling with a stranger who can’t prove his identity.” A shy smile lit your face gently, hoping to ease your own tension. He gave off waves of steeled and attuned senses to something. What it was you couldn’t pinpoint, but you could barely manage to stay in the same car with the way your skin suddenly crawled.

“Of course m’lady,” He handed you his badge after drawing it from within his breast pocket on his overcoat. All his information seemed appropriate for a man of his age and stature, and your hackles smoothed down with the small comfort that he was in fact a police officer. “Anything for the comfort of the fairer sex.” 

Ew. Forget your skin crawling, you felt violently ill. But he could get you to America sooner. Although, what the hell would be good about being a woman traveling by herself to her nonexistent home in the states? Where would you even go once you got to New York? Dangers lurk around every turn, this Inspector Campbell was proof of this. I can’t give this opportunity away, as much as I dislike him. I might not get another chance to fall into my lap like this. “Thank you, Inspector.” A response finally fell through your teeth as you handed his badge back to him, and he tucked it back into its place within his coat. A tense conversation of small talk filled the remainder of the ride to Birmingham, your trust in him was nonexistent, and the hour and 30 minute ride didn’t improve it.

-

Stretching your legs from the excruciatingly long train ride was a welcomed feeling, stepping off the train and onto the Birmingham station platform. The sun was setting and you needed a drink. The trunk in your hand bumped your leg as you walked with it, eager to get away from that god forsaken room the Inspector filled with conversation through the entire ride. Swiftly asking those scattered around the buildings surrounding the station, The Garrison seemed to be the only pub within walking distance and price range, and so you started your venture to find food and drink. Your legs carried you away from the station as fast as possible before the Inspector had the chance to corner and engage you in yet another drawn-out commentary on the weather. 

The Inspector had also offered to take you out for dinner, but you refused politely as you were collecting your things on the train to leave swiftly. If an hour of his time was grating years off of your life like it seemed to have done, you can’t imagine dinner with him. It might kill you on the spot. 

The intricate details on the glass of the front façade gave The Garrison an odd aura that felt so very welcoming and warm, and yet the building itself had a feeling of owning wary and watchful eyes. Pushing through the doors, the rubber of your shoes squealed loudly against the marble flooring, catching the eyes of many of the other patrons through the frosted glass. You paused against the second set of doors to steady yourself and grip the handle of your carrying case before walking directly to the golden bar top and shimmying up onto a stool.

It wasn’t a great bar, in fact it was barely more than four walls, a few windows, and a mountain of liquor. The lighting was dim, keeping the more unseemly stains from the eyes of the customers. The woodworking of the booths behind you was gorgeous, beautiful craftsmanship that was beer spackled and possibly pissed on. The woodwork behind the bar seemed less abused, instead worn and well loved, and before you could admire it any further, the tall bartender asked you for your order.

“What food do you have here?” You asked swiftly, running on fumes and short tempered from the train ride. You, very less than subtly, reached down your shirt to where you had stashed the 20 pounds in your bra. Luckily The Garrison paid no attention, and you were able to order the largest meal the man in front of you could provide: a few slices of sourdough bread, cheese and a small chicken breast with potatoes. Pairing it with a large stein of beer, you were barely awake by last call, nearly asleep on the bar after everyone else had cleared out, except for the strange group of men that had been in and out of the corner room over the course of the night. 

“Ma’am, I hate to do this to you, but you can’t sleep at the bar tonight.” The bartender leaned against the golden surface with a rag over his shoulder. God knows what time it was, and there was no possible way of getting you to care. 

“Is there anywhere nearby for less than,” You did a quick tally in your mind to count the remaining coins in your pocket. “10 pounds a night?” Lifting your head from the counter to gaze up at the barman.

He sighed above you. “Look, don’t let anyone know about it, and I’ll let you sleep at one of the booths for tonight. You seem like a good enough woman, but tomorrow morning you are done loitering here and you’ll move along.” He bargained, and your heart leapt in your chest at the grace of the cards that have been falling into place around you. 

“Thank you so much, sir. I’ll help you open tomorrow morning if that would help at all, I really do mean to earn my keep for tonight.” You suggested, overexcited at the fact you had a place to stay the night. He seemed to chew on the idea in his mind for a moment.

“I don’t see why that wouldn’t work.” He nodded. “The name’s Harry Fenton, I own the Garrison.”

“I’m (y/n),” You smiled slightly. “And I think I will be going to bed now.”

notes pt2. : woooaaah holy crap that was a lot im so sorry for such a long intro chapter but trust itll make sense next chapter :P i legit worked on this chapter for a week and I will try my best to learn how to make a freakin masterlist now that im finally back into writing stuffs :> idk when pt 2 will be out but i can start a tag list if anyone wants to be added

[ma1dmer]

Dragon Age - Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi NSFW

showing off my boyfriend!!!!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex): he fusses over you and doesn't take no for an answer, no nos, no buts, you are sitting there and he is taking care of you, he especially loves taking baths with you, he uses the excuse that its simply cheaper and faster for you to do it at the same time

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): he loves his arms, he's worked hard to get at the point he is with his strength, so he takes every opportunity to show off, for example subtly flexing when you touch him. on you he loves your thighs, no need to explain this, the thicker the better, this man is captain of the if i die, i die a happy man club when it comes to face sitting

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person): loves the taste of you and also loves tasting himself on your lips, he won't say it out loud, even with his filthy teasing there is a point he gets shy, but the way he shudders when you come up from between his legs and kiss him fiercely, his tongue searching your mouth as he deepens the kiss further speaks volume, the messier the better

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): he is quite a perv, he enjoys catching a glimpse of your panties here and there when you are wearing a skirt, or subtly looking down your shirt when you bend over in a loose blouse, he also has "borrowed" at least one pair of your underwear as a keepsake

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?): few hooks up here few there, in his past life searching for a place and a way to belong, and then later once he found himself, he is confident enough to know what he is doing and it shows, he is very attentive to your every need

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual): loves the simpler "vanilla" ones, cuddling you as he thrusts into you languidly, his fingers toying with your nipples ,or throwing your legs over his arms and leaning down to trap you between him and the bed, but he also won't pass any opportunity to show you his strength, holding you up against his chest and bouncing you on his cock

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): he wants you to feel comfortable there is no point in sex if you two can't laugh, he does also enjoy some gentle play fighting

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): keeps himself relatively natural, might trim every so often, especially the first few times you met up, but after that he enjoys things being natural

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): not especially romantic but he can be very sweet in the moment

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon): he mostly does it when he really really needs to destress or sleep, otherwise he'd rather have you there to help him out, with your fingers or your mouth and he is more than happy to return the favour

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks): roleplay, clothed sex, breeding etc

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do): he's thought of several places he'd like to have you, but at the end of the day, anywhere you two won't get caught is fine

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going): he likes a good game of chase, even after you get together he likes when you two play the roles of meeting up for the first time, let him flirt with you in some bar ,buy you a drink and woo you before he beds you, its cheesy and cute, he might throw in a line about some other guy bothering you and him sweeping in to save you if he wants to see you laugh

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): actually hurt you, he'd feel like he's breaking your trust, the second you utter any sort of sound of displeasure he is off you, you need to have a long long conversation and safe words in place if you want something like that

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): loves the image of you on your knees for him, but more than that he enjoys you coming undone cause of him, he'll prop your hips up with some kind of pillow and dive in, using his fingers and tongue, he knows what he is doing and won't be satisfied until your thighs are trembling around his head

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.): it depends, he always tries to keep a semblance of control to what he does but things always escalate, when he takes you slowly with his fingers he'll bite into your shoulder suddenly to have you clench around them ,or when he uses his mouth he'll pause all together and wait for you to get yourself off against his tongue

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): he loves them, but he loses track of time so easily

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): nothing dangerous that will get you in trouble or worse hurt you

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): he is relentless and stubborn and he's not backing away until you are writhing

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?): he knows toys are not his enemy, encourages you to bring them out ,let him use them to help you get off

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): pretty straight forward on things usually but he does have his moments, definitely smugly throws out a, what can't handle this ,while raising an eyebrow at you

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make): he is actually quite talkative once he gets going, whispering sweet praise and filth in your ears and sighing out your name like a prayer

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): i think he is a switch, he mainly tops, but i do think with the right person he'd love to let go and have them just order him around a bit, he'd grin and be cheeky about it but follow every order to the tea

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): we already know he is suspicious of any body altering magic

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?): he has a relatively average sex drive, nothing extreme but once he gets his mind to it you can feel him staring at you from afar, waiting for you to look back at him to steal you away

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): he is a light sleeper but being on the road so often he's trained himself to fall asleep quickly so he gets as much rest as possible, he snores even though he'll deny the accusations , he snores

[mandos-mind-trick]

Just A Taste

Summary: Your new baby is a picky eater. Hunter doesn't think it should go to waste.

Pairing: Hunter x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, very kinky, Hunter has a breeding kink and a pregnancy kink and also a breastfeeding kink, adult breastfeeding, mentions of pregnancy and babies and everything that goes with that.

A/N: This scene was originally going to be in Stella, but then I decided against posting it cause it's pretty kinky. The poll isn't quite closed yet, but it's been an outstanding yes so far, so I think I'm just going to be brave and uh, post it as a test run. Don't necessarily need to read Stella to get this one, it can be read as a stand alone.

If you would prefer not to see these fics, please blacklist "the dark side fic" as they will all be tagged with that.

MASTERLIST

Hunter cracks open your bedroom door, peeking his head in. He’d heard your frustrated groan from outside, the quiet curses as he made his way to the back of the house where your shared bedroom was. 

You’re seated on the edge of the bed, shirt open as you hold a rag against one of your breasts. He steps all the way in, closing the door behind him. You look up at him, sighing heavily. He can smell the slightly sweet scent of your breastmilk in the air. 

“He won’t eat from the right side.” You sigh frustratedly. “I don’t want to pump right now.” 

Hunter’s eyes trail over the curve of your stomach exposed by your open shirt. He moves closer, kneeling in front of you. His hand smooths over your stomach, over stretch marks new and old from four pregnancies. Your body is still adjusting after the birth of the fourth of your children, but Hunter doesn’t care. 

He loves you, he loves his children, but most importantly, he loves seeing you pregnant. Just the thought that he did that, he pumped you full of his seed until a new life started within you, makes his cock stir in his pants. 

“Hunter,” You breathe out a sigh, his arms slipping around you. You can see the look on his face, that look that got you pregnant in the first place. 

It’s no secret he loves it. The things he’d whispered to you in that deep, husky voice as he pounded into your pussy, telling you he’s going to breed you, going to put a baby in you, going to watch your belly grow with his child. He’d made sure the positions were just right, fucking you every night for a week straight for the best chance every time you agreed on another baby. 

He makes beautiful babies. All four have his eyes, his thick curls, they’re all Hunter, except for the second youngest. In him you can see glimpses of yourself sometimes, but they are all Hunter, not that you’re complaining. 

Hunter pushes himself closer to you, forcing you to part your legs for him. You roll your eyes as he moves the rag from your breast, your nipple still dripping milk. 

“Hunter, what are you doing?” You ask as he leans in. 

“Shame to let it go to waste.” He says, kissing the sides of your breast before taking your nipple in his mouth. 

Your hand moves to the back of his head as he begins to suck until a stream of breastmilk hits his tongue. You tangle your fingers in his thick locks as he suckles at your breast. He also loved breastfeeding. You had learned that after your first child was born, when you had a problem with your ducts plugging. One of the suggestions besides using the pump, which you hated, was to let Hunter drain the rest of the milk. 

The look in his eyes when the doctor had suggested that was more than enough to warn you that you were going to find yourself in a rather compromising position when you got home. 

And you did. 

Hunter did it more than he probably needed to. He loved laying his head on your chest and latching onto your nipple, letting his mouth fill with the sweet and creamy milk you produced. 

It does feel good. The relief as the heavy milk leaves your breasts, the sensation of his mouth suckling at your breast, the way his tongue circles your sensitive nipple to catch every last drop. More than once it has ended with him inside you, groaning with that husky voice about how sweet you taste, how beautiful you look when you feed him, the way the scent of your hormones drive him crazy. 

You’re breathing heavy, underwear damp by the time he’s finished, that expert tongue licking at your nipple to savor every last bit of milk. “Hunter, where’s the kids?” You gasp, his mouth attaching itself to your throat. 

“With the others.” He says, pressing you back against the bed. “They’re fine.” He reassures you, stripping off his own shirt. “Tech’s teaching them how to fix the tractor.” 

“Stella is six years old, she doesn’t need to be learning to fix the tractor yet, much less the younger ones.” You say. 

You go to move, but Hunter presses a hand into the center of your chest, pushing you back against the bed. He leans down, nipping at your earlobe before whispering in your ear. “He’s got them distracted right now. We’d be foolish not to take advantage of that.” He presses his hips against yours, letting you feel the bulge growing between his legs. 

You stare up at him, into those dark, lust-blown eyes. “Fine. But you’re using a condom this time.” 

[rosieofcorona]

A Summoning

ANGELS, I've returned to serve you domestic fluff with a side of holiday mischief. Professor! Gale and Dad! Gale are everything to me so I have wrapped them both up in this story with a little bow on top. Also on AO3 if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading. 💕

Winter brings many things to Waterdeep– the sort of darkness that seeps into every corner of the city, the sort of snow that falls as heavy as a shroud. It brings a season’s worth of holidays, and with them, all their customs, all their visitors called home from every region of Faerun. It bring gifts and songs and lanterns, lit and hung in every window, their light shining off the snow like grounded stars. 

Best of all, winter brings them Arabella. 

In the girl’s first year at Blackstaff, Tav insisted Gale invite her home at Midwinter break. After all, she'd pointed out, Gale knew firsthand what it was like to be alone in the dormitories when the other students had gone home. It would be better, they’d decided, to have her stay with them in the tower, where they could spoil her and cook for her and help her with her schoolwork. 

And so it was. 

That first Midwinter came and went, and so did Fey Day and Fleetswake and Midsummer, Stoneshar and Last Sheaf and Feast of the Moon. Every holiday they invited her, and every holiday she came. 

By the time Midwinter arrived again, there was no discussion at all. Arabella simply appeared at their door on the last day of school, and was welcomed in just before dinner. 

For the most part, her visits brim over with happiness. Gale teaches her the rules of lanceboard and all his favorite recipes, and Tav reads to her and shows her how to pluck out a tune on a lyre. When Tara and Morena come for tea, they tell her stories about Gale’s childhood that turn him varying shades of red, depending on how often he has scolded Arabella for similar behaviors. There is no shortage of laughter or mischief or very late nights, which means also no shortage of noise. 

In the mornings, Gale rises ahead of the girls, gathers all his students’ papers and heads to the library to work in uninterrupted silence. If he is lucky, he can get through a good deal of marking before he starts to miss the tower, all its chaos and its company. 

No luck today. 

He’s only been there for an hour when a family passes by the nearest window, a flock of children shepherded by their parents. They all take turns at catching snowflakes, huge and fluffy, on their tongues, and fall apart in fits of laughter when they miss. 

They grin and wave at Gale when they see him, their cheeks flushed and bright with cold, and he waves back, and packs his things, and goes home early. 

*********

The tower seems, at first, exactly as he’d left it– silent, sleeping– But they must be up by now, he thinks. It’s late enough.  

He might expect them in the solar or the kitchen or the parlor, warming up before the fireplace or hovering over a lanceboard, but there’s no seems to be no sign of them, no sound of them at all. 

It is too quiet.  

Gale takes the stairs two at a time and makes a beeline down the corridor to their chambers, worry rising in his chest. He nearly rushes past his study when a faint exchange of words drifts through the door, followed by a commotion– a flutter of paper, a rush of footsteps, something dragged across the floor. 

He’s almost startled when he reaches for the handle and it opens. Tav is standing at the threshold, bright as ever, smiling wide. 

Gale catches sight of Arabella in the background closing a book, setting it back down on his desk with a little thump . Its cover– or what he glimpses– looks familiar somehow, like something he’d studied long ago and has since forgotten. The memory hasn’t fully formed when Tav interrupts it, her lips pressed to his in her usual greeting. She tastes like holiday sweets, like honey cake and mint, like tradition and family and home. 

“Hello, darling,” she says. “You’re home early.”

“Hello, you.”

The lingering taste of her is nearly enough to distract from his growing suspicion, but there’s something off about the room that he can’t quite place, something mischievous in the way she’s leaning against the doorframe, shifting her body, tilting her head to obscure his view. 

“Am I interrupting?” 

“Of course not,” she assures him, in a tone so light and easy it’s almost convincing. “Arabella and I have just been reviewing some of her lessons, isn’t that right?”

“Yep!” Arabella agrees, too enthusiastically for schoolwork. The girl comes to stand next to Tav in the doorway, her hands clasped politely before her. The picture of a well-behaved child. 

He is certain they are up to something now. 

“And which lessons might those be?”

They stumble over their answers, the words colliding, knocking heads. 

“Evocation,” answers Tav, while Arabella says, “Illusion.” 

A guilty look, quick as a hummingbird, flits between them and disappears. 

Gale raises an eyebrow. “Care to try again?”

“Well,” Arabella swallows, “I was saying you’ve been teaching our class about familiars, and how you got Tara, and–”

“Hang on,” Gale interrupts, a realization creeping over him. He points past them to the desk, to the text that she had dropped when Tav opened the door. “Is that my book?”

“I think you’ll find they’re all your books, darling,” Tav says quickly. “Don’t worry, we’ll put them back–”

But it’s too late. 

With a flick of his hand, Gale passes through them like mist and reappears in the room beside his desk. He flips open the front cover– Advanced Summoning, stamped in gilded letters– and turns to a bookmarked page of detailed instruction, his own notes scribbled in the margins in a child’s hand. 

“You certainly will put this back,” he says firmly, facing Arabella. “This is magic beyond your years.” 

“But you were younger than me when you summoned Tara!” 

“‘Younger than I,’  and– nevermind – you're right, but that was very different.” 

Arabella wrinkles her nose indignantly. “How?”

“Well first of all, I didn’t need someone else’s private notes to do it. Now, if you’d like a book on familiars, I have a more appropriate one you can borrow–”He is moving in long strides toward the bookshelves on the opposite wall, crossing over the rug that’s been moved– It’s been moved? – to half-cover the summoning circle and– 

Wait .

“Have–” he sputters, lifting his shoe off the chalky runes drawn on the hardwood. “Have you made a summoning circle ? In my study?”

“Well, not just me,” the girl protests. “Tav helped!”

“I did,” she cringes lightly, when Gale whips around to look at her. “I couldn’t let her do it on her own.” 

“My love, she shouldn’t be doing it at all. This,” he says, turning back to Arabella, “Is complex and dangerous magic. One mistake and you might summon a pit fiend rather than a tressym.” “A very small pit fiend,” says Tav under her breath, but on seeing Gale’s scowl, adds, “Sorry.” 

“ Gods,” he groans, dropping his face into his hands. “What am I going to do with the two of you?”

“Help us!” Arabella grins. “We were nearly done anyway.”

“We could use your expertise,” Tav murmurs, drawing close. “You’re the only one who’s done this before.” 

He feels her soft hands on his, prying them from his eyes so gently that he almost forgives them right then and there. 

“Pleeeease?” Arabella draws out the word like a sustained note. “I won’t ask for anything else all Midwinter.” 

“Where on earth are you going to keep it, Arabella? They’ll never allow it in the dormitories, believe me.” The girls look first at each other, then back to Gale. “No,” he says firmly. “Absolutely not. It cannot live here.” “But I’m here all the time anyway!” Arabella protests. “I promise I’ll take good care of it. Besides, you’re always telling me I need to be more responsible.” 

Gale sighs until it feels like all the air has left his body. 

“And summoning a familiar is going to make you more responsible?” The child shrugs. “It might.”

It is all he can do not to laugh at that, at all of it, at the great karmic joke playing out in front of him. This must be what his mother felt like, all those many years ago. He thinks of writing her his most sincere apology. 

After a great deal more sighing and shaking his head, Gale bends and tugs the rug away to reveal the extent of their work. He examines it deliberately, walking around and around, head bent, arms crossed, brow furrowed. 

“Your runes are wrong,” he says at last. “Here,” he points, “and here. Let me show you.”

Arabella listens closely as he guides her through the process, far more closely than she listens in his class. She draws new runes in a steady hand, pausing each time for affirmation, and when she finishes Gale’s eyes are full of pride. 

“The incantation now,” he nods, and stands and brushes the chalk from his knees. 

He moves out of the circle entirely as Arabella takes the center, her command of the words unwavering and true. But for a long and silent moment, nothing happens. She looks from the circle to the book to Gale and back, her disappointment only tempered by confusion. 

Then comes a sound like distant lightning, and a sizzling, crackling energy that makes the hair on all their arms stand up on end. A sphere of light appears above them, tears like parchment down the middle, and something tiny, something living tumbles straight into her arms. She nearly drops the book to catch it– a ball of fur with fledgling wings– and when she turns her eyes are bright with tears, a joy Gale still remembers.