#his hair looks so soft and smooth and thick without anything in it

[sacrificiallane]

just the tip ۶ৎ mean!Luke Castellan blurb

cw: coercing!! (luke takes your virginity without asking 😔 he‘s mean like that!) MEAN!LUKE. sex. p in v. no protection (pls don't do that in real life!) ♡ blurb, so it's a little very short.

not proofread, oops

he is so desperate! literally, Luke thinks it's so unfair, how you're looking all pretty for him... yet won't let him in. it's killing him, please.

he just doesn't get this whole 'saving yourself for marriage' thing. it's stupid, he thinks, how you let him have his tongue buried between your thighs but not his dick ―

"please baby," his voice borders on a whine as he bumps his drooling tip against your clothed cunt and pries your thighs a little further apart. "just let me ―," he groans. momentarily, he thinks about just ripping the fabric in half and having his way with you... but he is a patient boy. for now.

"i told you, just the tip, hm?" Luke is taking a different approach then. he doesn't want to scare you, after all. so his hands ― all gentle and loving ― find a way to your face, to carefully caress your cheeks.

"you trust me, no?" he coaxes further, invading your space by nuzzling his nose to yours. an endearing gesture that makes it just so easy for him to get his way...

when you answer a soft 'yes, Luke...,' he smiles.

Luke knows how to sweet talk you into things. he's a son of Hermes, after all, one of the cleverest and most mischievous of the olympian gods.

"and you know i would never do anything that's bad for you, right?"

your teeth press into your bottom lip and Luke gets even harder Lukes fingers press the slightest bit harder into your skin, "right?" he doesn't like how you're hesitating, it's a normal question after all. i mean, why would you not trust him, after all? he is always taking care of you!

when he asks again, you know you have to answer "yea..."

he smirks, "good" and his hand starts to relax, and to wander.

he knows your body by heart, so the boy doesn't even have to look anywhere but your eyes when his fingers ghost over the drenched part of your panties.

Luke watches closely for your reaction. it's when your eyes trail down as well, when you feel him prodding, tugging and teasing, dangerously close to the part that you were denying him just moments ago, he acts quickly!

in an attempt to distract you from what he was really doing down there, and fearing that you'd deny him again and again, his lips press against yours in a hot kiss. it has you relax, at least, and gives him enough time to messily pull your panties to the side and press his bare tip against your slit. his tongue licks broadly into your mouth, to swallow any disagreeing noise of yours. he knows what's good for you!

when you do start to get a bit more whiny though, and try to move further up his bed ― you're nervous, of course, and Luke loves you too much to just ignore such a thing! ― he is quick to mutter sweet words meant to soothe you. whispering how he loves you, and how good you are for him.

his unoccupied hand smoothes over your hair, and his forehead bumps against yours when he literally bullies his thick head through your walls.

"fuck..." a breathless hiss and his eyes flutter close. you are so tight! wrapped around him like a vice, and Luke can just barely make out how you open a little further for him, and suddenly all of his common sense wanders south, and he craves you even more.

he really can't help it this time...

"sorry, i'm sorry―"

a loud gasp spills over your swollen lips when his hips suddenly snap flush against your own ― and his length slips all the way into your fluttering walls until you are completely full of him. so full, he can see himself slightly outlined through your tummy. "gods―" another thrust. in and out again, just to watch your reaction of having him poke your deepest parts.

"you ― just the tip ―" you were stuttering, trying to find words as he was greatly taking care of needs you weren't even aware of having! your fingers curl further around his sheets, cramping a little, when an especially hard thrust had you seeing stars for a moment.

Luke doesn't even think of slipping out again. instead, he shushed you softly, and pressed one hand over your mouth. gentle, of course. but you were so loud! and your sweet innocent voice trying to make sense of him, had him so close to spilling.

"it's okay―," he mutters in a breathless whisper, "you're fine."

Luke would never make you do anything you aren't ready for. he swears!

and when your eyes roll back and your legs start shaking, your own climax hitting you so quickly that you don't even know how or when to warn you... he's there, with you, to rub soothing circles into your naked skin and remind himself that this is all just for him.

well, and there goes your 'saving yourself for marriage' ― "guess i will just have to marry you then..."

shorter than the percy smut, but i liked it like that! sue me

[marimayscarlett]

the girls need more product free pics or reesh's hair!

Hi!! A slightly older ask, but nevertheless I absolutely agree (I'm girls in this). But the quest for product free hair pics of Richard is a hard and adventurous one, because the species of the thick goth dad doesn't like to be caught on camera looking anything less then perfectly styled, or hides underneath an adorable beanie 👀 Thank heavens for Pinterest, honestly

Some pics to serve a tiny impression of somewhat floofy/natural hair:

Of course in the long gone past we had a slightly bigger chance to catch Richard without any products in his hair 😊:

[shotmrmiller]

whenever simon needs a lay, he doesn't go for girls like you: all snarky attitude and self-assuredness in that hole-in-the-wall bar with the peeling wallpaper, dim lighting, and sagging ceiling tiles. he wants those insecure things; the soft, quiet ones who've been recently dumped and are drinking away their woes. the ones who'll take him to theirs in a drunken haze and wake up startled, kicking him out of the front door without their number and an embarrassed forget this ever happened.

can do, sweetheart. (see ya never.)

but you've caught his interest. maybe it was the way your face was bare— pockmarks on your cheeks and eyebrows untamed—yet you exuded confidence not even that loud bimbo with the fake lashes and vibrant ruby lipstick could ever recreate. maybe it was the way you held your own against that drunken man who attempted to grab a handful of arse over your faded, torn jeans, catching his pathetic bollocks and giving them a gnarly twist.

who knows. who cares.

what matters is that you've caught him by complete surprise.

he figured you were the type to want a firm hand. a couple of harsh slaps to your cheeks (both top and bottom), a fistful of your hair in his grip to pull, and to fuck you into the mattress until your body was imprinted on it.

wrong.

the moment he pulled your hair taut, you'd immediately tangled your clever fingers into his chest hair. "i'm no horse, brit. my hair isn't reins for you to lead me around with."

then he tried to bend you over his knee. proper brat like you needs to be put in'er place.

also wrong. "not that either. not yet anyway."

and then he's wrong a third time because you're no passive participant.

he sloppily eats your cunt like it's his first meal since coming back from urzikstan— warm tongue, thick fingers, and the occasional pinch of his crooked teeth on your swollen bundle of nerves. when he tries to pull away, your entrance more than slick enough to take him without much discomfort, you fervently dig your heels into the scarred tissue of his strong back., stopping him in his tracks.

"you stop 'til i finish and not a moment sooner." his whiskey breath is warm between your legs when he huffs out, "affirm." you're fluttering around his hand in minutes when you start to direct him on how you like it, which he supposes is fortunate for you since he's real good at taking orders and even better at obeying them.

your climax is sweet in his mouth with a subtle hint of brine. the exact opposite of you, he finds. simon doesn't even get the chance to tell you to say anything because you're flipping onto your knees and shoving his rigid length into your mouth. he can't help the strangled sound that escapes him when the tip of him touches the back of your throat, constricting when you gag.

bloody hell.

you look up at him; wide, glassy eyes and sunken cheeks and it's pathetic how he can already feel himself on the precipice of ecstasy and he hasn't even gotten to the good part.

when he watches you place a condom in your mouth and roll it on his cock without hands, simon had to squeeze his eyes shut and think of england to stop the fire that threatened to light him ablaze.

alrigh', enough. on your back.

"no. get on yours."

your small hands push against his barrel chest, gesturing he lie back— today preferably.

impatient bint.

you ignore that quip, opting to wrap your fingers around his thick base and sink onto him in one smooth motion.

slow, don't want ya hurtin' ya'self.

he gnaws on his tongue painfully— almost cutting it open with his canine— to keep from finishing because, bloody fuckin' hell, do you feel like the heaven he'll never see.

simon's hands curl and tighten around the swell of your hips— his blunt, square nails digging into your sensitive skin. "easy," you hiss, "i bruise like a peach."

taste like it, too.

you look so sweet, so pliant while being split open on his cock, hot cunt sodden with your earlier release— it sends mind-numbing arousal tingling up his spine, feeling it at the base of his skull. simon grunts when you begin to move, a languid up and down, gentle but firm. spots dance in his vision when you take all of him, his bollocks flush against your arse.

pretty thing with fire in your eyes taking him so well even though others have needed breaks to work up to it. muscle memory takes over then, his callused fingers automatically searching for your swollen clit, but you slap them away. "too sensitive, i'd only be uncomfortable."

yes ma'am.

you chuckle at that, pussy fluttering as you do and simon hisses through his clenched teeth.

keep tha' up 'nd i'll be done before the fun even starts.

this time you clamp down on purpose, your cunt squeezing his cock like a silken fist. "wouldn't that just be a shame. old man like yourself only got one in you?" the playful taunt sinks its teeth into the ego he's never cared about— leaving behind a mark that stings and lingers— and the lieutenant rears his head, if only for a moment.

watch it.

your eyes widen fractionally but your lips curl at the corners in amusement. "sorry, sir." minx.

his thoughts dissolve like sugar in hot tea once your hips began to rise and fall again, this time a much quicker pace. he surrenders to your unsatiable passion-- a hungry beast, feeding on want, on need-- with only his obsidian-black mask as witness.

for the first time in months (since price bent him over his desk post-op that one time) he's the one getting fucked.

and when you plant your feet by his sides, when your hips cant at the slightest of angles, his flared head presses against something firm and his world ceases to exist, the intensity of now reaching its peak.

when he comes to, your sweat-slick body trembles with effort, your pretty cunt still stuffed to the brim with his softening length. but he's not done with you yet, not by a long shot. now it's his turn.

in a quick movement, you find yourself on your back, looking up at simon, and the mewl that falls from your lips bounces off of the spartan white walls when he hooks your legs over his broad shoulders, and claims you again.

he plans on leaving a delicious ache between your legs that won't let you forget this night-- at least not for the next few days. (not like you could, i mean look at him. plus, he's going to magically forget his gloves here, maybe his pack of cigarettes. he's also definitely jotting down his phone number somewhere.)

forgive me i'm tired now so i lost some air at the end hehehe

[ultravioletbrit]

“hair” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 302 words

The messy, unruly, dark, crazy curls on top of his head are very much a signature of James’ overall appearance. On anyone else, it would just look like unkempt bedhead, but somehow James makes it work. Even after running his hands through them countless times a day, those waves always seem to fall in the most imperfectly, perfect way.

Regulus often threatens James that he can, and will, tame those curls. He could very easily give James a hair care routine that would have those wild curls turned into something sleek and smooth that could almost rivals Regulus’ own curls. Almost.

Honestly, it wouldn’t even be that hard. Right now, James’ after-shower ‘hair care routine’ consists of vigorously rubbing a towel over his head, shaking the excess water off, then letting his hair air dry.

All Regulus would have to do is properly dry it, find the right combination of products to use—probably a nourishing oil and a good leave-in conditioner—and that’s it. No more messy waves; just soft, manageable curls.

Regulus is completely confident that he could—and he might like to try it once, just to prove himself right—but he would never actually want James to do it. As chaotic as those curls are, Regulus can’t imagine James without them. He would never want to card his fingers through anything other than those thick, soft, ridiculous waves. So even though Regulus might threaten it, those unruly curls are part of James’ signature look, and Regulus can’t imagine ever wanting to change that.

“What are you thinking about?” James asks from where he’s laying with his head in Regulus’ lap.

“Your hair.” Regulus tells him as he runs his fingers through it.

“Ugh. Not again.” James grumbles.

“One of these days, Potter. You’ll let me get my hands on these curls!” He tugs on James’ hair.

“Never.”

[timmydraker]

Bruce had never been to The Eclipse before.

The club was similar to that of a gentleman’s club from the starting years of America, filled with dozens of tables all curved and ready for a game or feast. The three floors of the place each had a game room, a bar and a section for private rooms for the more seedy type of talks to be had.

It was one of the few non-criminal funded place in Gotham that was still rich. Deals definitely went down, but it was more fitting for gossip that anything else.

Often people went there for catch ups in a refined setting.

Bruce was there for a catch up, or more accurately, a reuniting with his son.

Tim had sent Bruce a time, date and location and said he was only going to meet with him and no one else. Considering Bruce hadn’t seen his beloved son in nearly four years, including his time in the time stream, he accepted without argument.

Tim said he would look different but that if Bruce was as good of a detective as he says, it wouldn’t be a problem.

Bruce had no idea what his son meant until a woman let him inside and told him that ‘Drake had asked you to find him yourself’ with a confused bend in her eyebrows.

It took him a little longer than he’d be happy to admit, although still less than forty seconds, to find his son.

Or maybe that was the wrong word now, if the regal young woman staring at her drink was anything to go by.

Like something out of a vintage movie, the woman had curled black hair and dark red lipsticks. Her dark eyeshadow matched her sweetheart collar dress, black with thick straps and tight enough that each breath was visible.

The gloves on her hand were long and black, one putting a stark contrast to the pink coloured cigarette lit in her hand.

Everything about her screamed old money.

Bruce only knew it was Tim because of the sweet blue eyes and shape of his jaw, though there was also some kind of… paternal instinct in play.

Tim only looked up when he put a hand on the rounded couch, Jim’s tearing nervously down at his distinguished looking child.

It was when she smiled, a real thing that was just highlighted by her dark red lips, that Bruce knew he wasn’t mistaken.

“Hi Bruce.”

A lighter voice, not soft so much as smooth, and nothing like the more monotone sound he was used to.

“Ti-… hi.”

She smiles and gestures for him to sit before taking a final drag of her smoke and putting it out.

Bruce stares at for just a second before looking at his child. Despite the shock of the obvious changes, he notices something far more important, “You look healthy.”

Well fed, clean, nourished.

Like she’s gotten sleep.

“I am. I’ve done a lot of work on myself and it’s paid off.”

Bruce smiles, genuine and almost a little painful, “I can see that. What… what do I call you?”

“Charlotte. Charlotte Jackson Drake.”

“A beautiful name.”

Charlotte smiles before a serious look comes over her face, “Bruce. I haven’t just changed my lifestyle and body, I’ve changed how I look at the world and I’ve come to understand a lot more in my life now.”

Never has Bruce been so attentive, ears feeling on fire as he does his best to focus on every word spoken to him.

“The main thing I’ve come to understand is you.”

Bruce doesn’t move, scared to make his daughter stop talking to him and so he just does his best to show he’s listening.

Charlotte continues, “I get why you brought all of us in. It wasn’t just to protect us from the world, but from ourselves. I can see now that you are only crazy because you’ve been given the impossible challenge of being a necessity in Gotham and the worlds survival and sanity. It doesn’t change that you’ve made mistakes and fucked up, but I get why now. You didn’t want us to apart of Batman, but we forced you, me most of all.”

Bruce is more than stunned by the honesty and understanding in Charlotte’s words, but the fact that he himself only figured that out after loosing Jason.

She smiles at him like she could read his mind, “It took me a long time and I still have anger towards you, yet I want you in my life all the same.”

A gloved hand comes to hold onto his own, delicate and gentle in a way that reminds him of his mother all those years ago.

Charlottes smiles is far too sad to be hers though, “I’m not the boy you once knew, not just because of the woman I want to be now. I don’t want to help you, to save you and parent you, I want to know you. As my father. If-if you’ll allow it?”

Bruce has cried in public before, several times in fact, but normally it’s to play up his over emotional persona.

This time it’s pure relief.

“Of course. Anything you want, at any pace you want, I- what ever you need.”

Charlotte smiles and squeezes his hand, “Thank you.”

Bruce eventually huffs a laugh and wipes his eyes, “god, you really are good at catching me off guard.”

She laughs, a honey like noise that makes him realises he’s never heard Tim smile and that maybe his daughter could only do that once she be same ‘her’.

The two order drinks and Bruce is given the tale of how Charlotte came to be, of how sometimes she misses being Tim but never wants to go back. He learns that she chose her name based on what she would ah e been if she was born a girl so she wouldn’t feel like she was betraying her parents.

Bruce learns that she is still a hero, operating as Red Robin, but that she focuses on prolonged crimes like trafficking rings and makes sure to take them down in on go instead of busting a few and giving the rest a chance to escape.

He’s not so happy to hear that she isn’t ready to talk to the others and that she only really talks to Cass and Duke as both of them have always been on her side and are truely her siblings.

Yet he respects it, if only to keep her close and show her the love he failed to give.

Respecting his daughter’s privacy, he doesn’t tell his other kids anything about what happened and acts ignorant when there’s a few articles about the mysterious Charlotte Drake and her distant relation to the private Tim Drake.

He meets with his little girl, his Lottie, once a week at The Eclipse and talks with her about their businesses both in the literal sense and more broadly.

He meets Bernard and can’t quite see what it is about the strange boy that makes his daughter so happy, but all he needs is to see her big smile and know it doesn’t matter.

That and the several background checks he did.

[syluslnd]

hiii ive been reading a bunch of your work for a while and i luv em ^^. can i ask if you could do a scenario where sylus discovers your s*lf-h*rm scars? if its too triggering you dont have to

sylus reaction to your self harm scars

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains casting a warm golden glow over the bedroom. You stirred slightly feeling the weight of sleep slowly lift from your body.

Beside you Sylus lay quietly his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. His presence was comforting and as you blinked your eyes open a soft sigh escaped your lips.

Without thinking you stretched out your arms letting your muscles wake up along with you. It was a lazy, comfortable movement, one you'd done countless times.

But this time, as you reached above your head, Sylus's gaze shifted. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating softened as he watched you. He always looked at you like that in the mornings-like he was seeing something precious, something fragile. Yet today, something was different.

As your arms stretched out the sleeves of your loose shirt slid back just for a moment revealing the faint but unmistakable lines on your wrists.

Sylus's gaze sharpened immediately. His usual calm, controlled demeanor faltered just for a second but that second was all it took for his heart to twist in his chest. His brows furrowed almost imperceptibly and he stiffened beside you. His eyes flickered over the cuts-small, faint but unmistakably deliberate.

At first, his mind raced to a darker place.

Had someone hurt you? The thought was instant, primal, filling him with a flash of anger. But no-he knew that wasn't it. Sylus was nothing if not observant and as quickly as the thought came it was dismissed. This wasn't something someone else had done to you.

This was something you had done to yourself.

His stomach twisted an unfamiliar feeling of dread settling deep inside him. He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what those marks meant and for the first time in a long time he felt... lost. Sylus was used to handling difficult situations, staying composed no matter what. But this? This was different.

He didn't know if he should say something. If he should bring it up. The air between you felt suddenly thick charged with something heavy and unspoken. You were still stretching lazily, unaware of the storm brewing in his mind.

Sylus stared at your wrists for another beat before you lowered your arms back down, your shirt falling back into place, hiding the evidence of whatever had been going on beneath the surface. You turned toward him with a sleepy smile, your eyes half-lidded with lingering drowsiness.

"Morning" you mumbled softly, unaware of the way his gaze had hardened, how his expression had tightened for just a split second before he smoothed it over with a casual smirk.

"Morning, sweetie" he replied his voice even though there was a slight edge to it that hadn't been there before. He reached out brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle, though his mind was anything but calm.

He didn't bring it up immediately. For the next few minutes he tried to act like nothing had changed like he hadn't seen what he just saw. But it was eating away at him gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

Sylus wasn't one to ignore things, and certainly not when it came to you. He was always so good at teasing you pushing your buttons just enough to make you blush but this... this was different. This wasn't something he could tease away.

As you lay there beside him your head resting on his chest he couldn't stop his eyes from drifting back to your wrists hidden beneath the fabric now but the image of those cuts was burned into his mind. His hand resting on your arm felt the weight of every line every mark that told a story he wasn't sure he was ready to hear.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Sweetie" he began, his voice unusually soft but there was a tension beneath it. You shifted slightly, tilting your head up to look at him noticing the way his brow was furrowed his usual calm expression giving way to something more serious.

"What is it?" you asked, your voice still groggy from sleep.

For a moment Sylus hesitated something uncharacteristic for him. He wasn't the type to dance around things but this felt... delicate. Like if he said the wrong thing everything might crack.

"I..." He trailed off, his hand brushing lightly over your arm, his fingers tracing the edge of your sleeve. "I noticed something. On your wrists."

Your heart skipped a beat your body tensing immediately. You knew what he was talking about and suddenly the lazy morning felt far too suffocating. The room, once warm and comfortable, now felt like a trap.

Sylus watched the way your expression shifted, how your eyes darted away from his, how your breathing grew just a little more uneven. His jaw clenched and he forced himself to stay calm, though every instinct inside him was screaming to ask, to demand answers.

"I'm not stupid, kitten" he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Those aren't accidents, are they?"

You felt your throat tighten the weight of his words pressing down on you. The cuts— something you had tried so hard to keep hidden to push away-were now laid bare and Sylus, with his sharp eyes and relentless persistence, wasn't going to let this go.

"No” you whispered barely audible your voice cracking under the pressure of the moment. "They're not."

Sylus closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly, as if trying to gather his thoughts.

When he opened them again his gaze was steady, though there was something darker behind it. "Why?" he asked, the word heavy with emotion. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

You bit your lip, tears already welling in your eyes as you tried to find the words. "I don't know..." you started, but it felt hollow, like an excuse. You knew exactly why. "It just... it helps. When everything gets too much, it's like... it's the only thing I can control."

Sylus's expression faltered his usual confidence cracking as he processed your words. He had never seen you like this-so vulnerable,so lost. You, the person who was always so bright, so full of life. The one who always smiled, always laughed, even when he teased you relentlessly.

He felt guilt settle deep in his chest. Had he missed this? Had he been so caught up in his own world, in his work, that he hadn't noticed how much you were struggling? The thought gnawed at him, filling him with a sense of helplessness he rarely felt.

"You should've told me" he said, his voice low but there was an edge of frustration in it.

Not at you but at himself. "I should've been paying more attention. I should've known something was wrong."

You shook your head quickly the tears finally spilling over as you sat up wrapping your arms around yourself as if to protect yourself from his piercing gaze. "It's not your fault, Sylus” you said, your voice trembling. "I didn't want you to know. I didn't want to be a burden."

His eyes flashed with anger-again not at you but at the situation. "A burden?" he repeated, his tone sharp. "You think you're a burden to me?"

You flinched slightly at his words, and he immediately regretted the harshness of his tone. He reached out, his hand resting on your arm again, this time more gently.

"You're not a burden" he said, his voice softening. "Not to me. You never could be."

You looked down at your hands, your heart heavy with guilt and shame. "I just didn't know how to tell you. It's... it's hard. It's hard to explain why I do it and I didn't want to make you worry."

Sylus exhaled slowly, his hand moving to cup your cheek tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "I’m already worried, sweetie" he said quietly. "and I wish you would've told me sooner. I hate that you've been going through this alone."

The tenderness in his voice broke something inside you and you couldn't hold back the sob that escaped your lips. You collapsed into his arms burying your face in his chest as the weight of everything you'd been holding in finally came crashing down.

Sylus wrapped his arms around you holding you tightly against him his chin resting on top of your head. "I'm here now" he murmured his voice steady though you could hear the pain behind it. "We'll get through this together. You don't have to do it alone anymore."

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe-just maybe-you didn't have to carry the weight of it all by yourself.

[marauroon]

i heard you're taking in requests? 👁👁

marauders x forgetful reader?? like misplaces a book or an article of clothing?

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭-𝐦𝐞-𝐧𝐨𝐭 (𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲.𝐦)

you can always count on your boys to make sure you don’t forget anything in the mornings

poly!marauders x gn!reader | 1.0k | fluff | masterlist.

The scent of fresh coffee drifts through the air, mingling with the warmth of early morning light filtering through the sheer curtains. The flat is quiet in the way that all homes are just after waking—a few soft footsteps, the occasional yawn, the distant hum of the city outside.

James is already up, of course. He’s the only one of the four of you who voluntarily wakes before the sun, somehow chipper even after his morning workout. He moves through the kitchen with practiced ease, filling mugs with coffee and humming under his breath.

You’re not quite as functional.

“C’mon, love, up and at ‘em,” Remus murmurs beside you, his voice still thick with sleep. His hand smooths over your shoulder, gentle but insistent. “Don’t want to be late,”

You groan, burying your face in your pillow. It’s far too early for this. “Five more minutes—”

“You said that ten minutes ago,”

Remus chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple before sliding out of bed himself. Without the warmth of him beside you, the sheets feel colder, and you reluctantly peek an eye open.

Across the room, Sirius is sprawled in the other bed, his face half-buried in his pillow, dark hair a tangled mess. One arm is slung over his head, the other dangling off the side of the bed. Completely dead to the world.

“Is he—?” you start, voice still rough with sleep.

“Alive? Yeah,” Remus answers, tugging on a jumper.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes as you finally push yourself up. The moment you do, the morning chill nips at your bare arms, and you shiver. “Why is it so cold?”

“Because it’s February,” Remus says, glancing over at you with a knowing look. “You should probably wear a coat today,”

Right. That makes sense.

You finally manage to swing your legs out of bed, the floor cool against your bare feet. Remus watches, his expression teetering between fondness and exasperation as you shuffle toward the wardrobe, half-aware of what you’re doing.

It’s a struggle, pulling on clothes when you’re still mostly asleep, but you manage, albeit sluggishly.

By the time you make it to the kitchen, James is there, dressed in his usual workout gear, his hair damp with sweat from his run. He grins when he sees you, already holding out a steaming mug.

“Morning, love,” he says, pressing the warm ceramic into your hands. “You look like you need this,”

You take the coffee with a grateful hum, cupping it close to your chest. “You’re a lifesaver, Babe,”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” He winks before turning his attention to the rest of the kitchen, setting out breakfast with a practiced ease.

The sound of footsteps shuffling down the hall signals Sirius’s arrival. He stumbles into the kitchen, still half-asleep, hair sticking up in a dozen directions. He’s wearing one of James’s hoodies—one that’s far too big on him—and a pair of boxers, looking as if he’s barely conscious.

James hands him a mug without a word.

Sirius takes it, lifting it to his lips without even opening his eyes. “‘M not awake,” he mutters, voice hoarse.

“You don’t say,” Remus deadpans, leaning against the counter with his own cup of tea.

Sirius finally cracks an eye open, fixing Remus with a sleepy glare. “Shut up, Moony,”

James laughs, ruffling Sirius’s already-messy hair before turning to you. “You’re gonna need an umbrella today,” he says, nodding toward the window. “It’s supposed to rain,”

Right. That makes sense too.

You take another sip of coffee, letting the warmth settle in your bones, willing yourself to wake up properly. The flat hums with quiet, domestic ease—James moving about the kitchen, Remus flipping through the newspaper, Sirius slowly coming back to life with every sip of his drink.

It’s mornings like this that make you feel most at home, wrapped in the easy comfort of them.

It’s not until you’re gathering your things that the problems start.

“Where’s my bag?” you ask, scanning the sofa. It’s not there.

Remus sighs from the doorway. “You left it in the bedroom,”

Right. That makes sense.

You retrieve it quickly, only for James to call after you as you reach for your shoes. “Love, you’re not seriously going out without a coat, are you?”

You blink, looking down at yourself. You have a jumper on. That should be enough, right?

Remus is already holding out your coat, his expression patient.

You huff, taking it. “I was getting to it,”

“Mhm,” James hums, clearly unconvinced.

You pull the coat on, grabbing your bag before heading toward the door. Just as you reach for the handle, Sirius’s voice stops you.

“Oi, you forgetting something?”

You pause, frowning.

Sirius lifts an eyebrow, taking another slow sip of his coffee before nodding toward the table. Your keys.

Right. Of course.

You mumble a thanks, grabbing them before finally stepping outside. The cold air nips at your cheeks, and you burrow further into your coat. Remus locks the door behind you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he pockets his own keys.

“Did you pack your lunch?” he asks as you step onto the street.

You freeze.

His sigh is long-suffering.

James laughs behind you. “What would you do without us?”

You roll your eyes, already turning back toward the flat. “Probably starve,” you admit.

They don’t disagree.

[heliosunny]

Love your writing 😍 about anaxa and phainon

Hoping that I can see more of them✨

Since I've just updated Yandere!Phainon, I'll write Yandere!Anaxa. Thank you for supporting me🩵

Yandere!Anaxa x Florist!Reader

In a quiet kingdom known for its lush flora, you run a small but thriving flower shop, using your magic to cultivate rare and powerful plants. Strong-willed and sharp-tongued, you care little for wealth or titles, only for the flowers that bloom under your care. Then he walks in.

A man shrouded in mystery and danger, arrives with a strange plant in hand and an offer to research it

The bell above your shop’s door chimed softly, signaling a customer. You barely looked up from where you were tending to a tray of delicate orchids, brushing your fingertips over their petals.

“Welcome” you said, voice steady yet warm. “Take your time.”

No response. How strange, most visitors, whether locals or travelers, at least offered a greeting. You turned your gaze toward the entrance only to find a man standing motionless, barely past the threshold.

And the moment your eyes met his, chaos erupted. The vines and roots in your shop, normally docile, swaying gently under your magic suddenly lashed out, twisting and lunging toward him like living creatures with a mind of their own. Thorns glinted under the lantern light, reaching to pierce into his skin.

You moved instantly.

Lifting a hand, you called forth your magic, your power sweeping through the air like an unseen force. The aggressive vines froze, caught mid-air, mere inches from his throat. With a flick of your wrist, they recoiled and slithered back, retreating into the soil.

You let out a slow breath before turning your sharp gaze to the stranger.

Now that you had a better look, you could see why your plants had reacted so violently.

The man before you was no ordinary traveler.

Dark fabric clung to his tall frame, adorned with silver accents and lined with enchanted thread that shimmered faintly under the light. His hair, a cascade of green, framed striking eyes that watched you without a hint of fear.

If anything…

He looked amused.

“I see” he murmured, his tone smooth, almost lazy. “They don’t like me.”

Your grip on your magic remained firm. “That makes two of us.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “Oh? And here I thought florists were supposed to be welcoming.”

You didn’t smile. “Florists don’t typically get customers who trigger an unprovoked magical attack.”

His gaze flickered to the now-docile vines before returning to you. “Unprovoked, hm?”

You narrowed your eyes. There was something about him. Something unnatural. Your plants had never reacted like that before, not even to dangerous men. Which meant… This man was something else entirely.

Despite the warning signs, you did not turn him away. You were no fool. Forcing him out would only make him return.

Instead, you did what you did best, you observed.

You allowed him to browse your shop, watching from behind the counter as he idly picked up flowers, rolling their stems between his gloved fingers.

The tension in your shop was thick. Your plants remained still, but you could feel them watching, waiting.

Finally, the man turned to you, holding up a single white lily. “I’ll take this one.”

You eyed him. “A white lily?”

He hummed. “Is that a problem?”

You set down your gardening shears, stepping out from behind the counter. “That flower means purity and devotion.”

Another chuckle. “How fitting.”

You frowned. “For you?”

“For you” he corrected smoothly.

You stared. He held the lily up, brushing the petals along his fingers. “You protected me, didn’t you? Even when your magic screamed otherwise?”

“You weren’t in danger” you said evenly. “I was protecting my shop from needless damage. Not you.”

He tilted his head. “Is that so?”

Before you could respond, he did something unforgivable.

He brought the lily to his lips and bit down on the petals.

You snapped. Without thinking, you moved. In a blur of motion, you grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, slamming him against the wooden counter with surprising strength.

His smirk faltered, eyes widening just slightly.

He wasn’t expecting this.

You leaned in close, voice dangerously soft.

“Don't do that to my flowers.”

His smirk returned, sharper this time. “Apologies” he purred, unbothered by his current position. “I was just curious.”

Your grip on his wrist remained firm. Tight to the point you could feel his pulse. Steady. Unnaturally calm. A normal man would have tensed, would have recoiled at your sudden aggression.

But he didn't. He simply studied your reaction.

Your eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

For the first time, he didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, his gaze softened—just slightly.

Then, he smiled. Is that interest you saw in his eyes?

“I think” he murmured, tilting his head ever so slightly, “I’d like to find that out with you.”

And somehow, despite everything, despite the danger that curled around him like a cloak, you had the sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.

-----

The moment Anaxa placed the plant in your hands, you felt it. It was alive. Not in the way all plants were, this was something else.

The veins in its leaves pulsed faintly, like a slow heartbeat. The roots twitched as if sensing your presence, curling toward your fingers.

You tore your gaze away from it, leveling Anaxa with a sharp look. “Where did you find this?”

His smirk was slow, deliberate. “Does it matter?”

“It does if I’m the one researching it.”

He chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “Then consider it a mystery for you to solve.”

You frowned. He was hiding something.

But that didn’t matter, not yet.

For now, the plant held your full attention. You ran your fingers along the stem, noting the strange texture. Not quite wood, not quite flesh. Somewhere in between.

“How long do I have?” you asked.

Anaxa’s eyes flickered, amused by your immediate interest. “No rush. Take as long as you need.”

“Even if it takes years?”

His lips curled. “I have patience.”

You narrowed your eyes. That was a lie.

No man who smirked like that, who watched you like that, was capable of patience.

But you said nothing. Instead, you turned away, already lost in thought.

This plant… it could change everything.

Days turned to weeks, and the more you uncovered about the plant, the more you realized it was wrong. It absorbed magic. Fed off of it. Craved it.

Your greenhouse had become a battleground of willpower, your magic straining to contain the unnatural hunger of its roots.

But more concerning than the plant itself was him. Anaxa visited often. Too often.

Always watching. Always hovering just close enough that his presence became a shadow at your back, his warmth bleeding into your space.

It was suffocating and you hated that. You didn't use to working under such stressful environment.

“You’re distracted today” he murmured, leaning against the wooden counter as he watched you work.

You didn’t look up. “I have a guest who refuses to leave. I wonder why.”

A low chuckle. “Is that what I am? A guest?”

“What else would you be?”

He hummed, pushing off the counter. You felt him step closer, his presence a tangible weight behind you.

“You tell me, florist.”

The way he said that title, it wasn’t mockery.

It was fond.

You exhaled sharply, fingers tightening around your shears. “You’re getting in the way of my work.”

“I don’t mind” he said smoothly.

“I do.”

He didn’t move.

Instead, he reached out, slow, measured, testing. You felt the ghost of his fingertips skim over your wrist, a barely-there touch and yet it burned.

You turned sharply, your shears flashing between the two of you, the blade stopping just before his throat.

Anaxa merely raised an eyebrow, utterly unbothered. Then, slowly, he smiled.

“You’re so beautiful when you threaten me.”

You stared at him, heart pounding and something inside you twisted.

Not in anger.

Not in fear.

In something far more dangerous.

And from the way his eyes darkened, he knew. Your breath was steady. Your hand did not shake. The shears remained pressed lightly against his throat, just enough for him to feel the cold metal against his skin. But Anaxa… he wasn’t afraid. If anything, he leaned in.

His voice was thick with amusement. “What now, little florist? Will you cut me down like your flowers?”

You exhaled slowly, eyes locked onto his. “Maybe.”

His smirk widened. “Do it.”

Your fingers tensed. Damn him. He was testing you. You hated that part of you, the part he had awakened, that wanted to push back.

You lowered the shears, stepping away. “I have work to do.”

Anaxa chuckled, touching his throat where the shears had been, mockingly thoughtful. “Mm. A shame. I would have liked to see how deep you'd go.”

You shot him a glare. “Don’t tempt me.”

Despite everything, you still let him into your shop.

Anaxa never made himself scarce, always finding reasons to linger, offering idle conversation, watching as you worked, leaving small, carefully chosen gifts.

A book on ancient flora he knew you’d been searching for. A rare seed he procured from a distant kingdom. Even something as simple as a hot cup of tea on particularly exhausting days.

It was all calculated. And it was working. Because despite your wariness, despite knowing exactly what kind of man he was, you found yourself hesitating less when he got close. And Anaxa noticed.

One evening, as you were tending to the strange plant he had brought, you felt him step behind you. His fingers brushed your wrist, guiding your hand over the leaves.

“Do you feel it?” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

The plant pulsed beneath your touch.

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

He hummed, his fingers curling slightly over yours. “Just like you, it thrives on attention.”

Your lips parted to argue, to deny, to push him away. But your traitorous body remained still. That silence was all he needed.

His grip tightened. Just long enough to remind you who was winning this game.

The first incident happened three days later.

A neighboring florist, one of your longtime friends—vanished.

The second incident followed soon after.

Another florist. A merchant. Anyone who spent too much time near you. No bodies. No signs of struggle. Just whispers of disappearances.

And then, the third incident.

This time, the attack was aimed at you.

A masked figure cornered you late at night, their blade glinting under the dim lantern light. But you were no helpless damsel. Before they could strike, you reached into your apron, pulled out a handful of crushed lilies and blew the powder into their face.

The paralysis was instant. The would-be assassin barely had time to stagger before crumpling to the ground, unmoving. You stepped back, breathing heavily, heart hammering.

Then, from the darkness, a slow clap.

You turned, only to find him.

Anaxa stood in the shadows, watching you with that infuriating, satisfied smile.

“You handled that well” he murmured.

Your fingers curled into fists. “This was your doing.”

“Was it?” He tilted his head, stepping closer, eyes never leaving yours. “Strange… I seem to remember warning you that this town had become dangerous.”

You glared. “You expect me to believe this was a coincidence?”

“I expect you to be smart enough to see the truth.” He stopped a mere breath away from you, his fingers reaching out to trace along the petals of the flower in your hair.

“You need me, Y/N.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “And I’m the only one who will stay.”

Your pulse pounded. Not with fear.

But with the bitter realization that he wasn’t wrong.

The disappearances. The attack. The uncertainty in the air. Who else could you trust now?

He had woven himself into your life. And somehow, you had let him. But that didn’t mean you had lost.

Not yet.

So instead of pulling away, instead of rejecting his words, you met his gaze head-on.

“You think you’ve won?” you murmured.

His smile widened. “Haven’t I?”

You leaned in slightly, your breath ghosting against his skin, your fingers grazing his wrist. And then, in a single swift motion. You twisted his arm behind his back, slammed him against the shop’s wooden post, and pressed the sharp tip of your pruning shears to his throat.

Anaxa let out a soft, breathless laugh.

“Ah…” His voice was practically shaking with delight. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

Your grip tightened. “You don’t scare me.”

“You should” he murmured.

You stared at him, heart hammering, waiting for the moment he’d retaliate—waiting for him to strike. But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned into the blade. A thin line of crimson beaded against his pale skin, but he didn’t flinch.

He only smiled.

“Keep me close” he whispered. “Or watch how far I’ll go to get to you.”

A warning. A promise. A challenge.

And for the first time, you realized this wasn’t a game you could walk away from.

You felt the world blur around you.

Heat crept into your veins, slow and insidious, twisting through your body like roots burrowing deep into the earth. Your fingers trembled as you gripped the counter, trying to steady yourself.

Your vision swam, colors bleeding together. Across from you, Anaxa stood, watching you with sick satisfaction.

You had been poisoned.

Not to kill. Not to harm.

But to bind.

“What… did you do?” Your voice came out breathless, weaker than you wanted it to be.

Anaxa’s smile was slow, patient, victorious.

“Shh.” He stepped closer, brushing a gloved hand against your flushed cheek. “Let it settle, little flower. There’s no use fighting it.”

Your breathing hitched. The warmth pooling in your body was unnatural, like a vine curling around your heart, tightening, twisting, refusing to let go.

Your knees nearly buckled. Anaxa caught you effortlessly, guiding you against his chest, holding you as if he had done this before.

As if he had been waiting for this moment.

“You’re strong” he murmured, pressing his lips against your hair. “I knew you wouldn’t fall easily.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears. Fight. Your mind screamed at you. Resist.

But the weight in your limbs, the fog in your head, it was drowning you.

And worst of all, beneath the confusion and anger, something inside you craved the feeling.

The warmth. The presence. His hands on you. His voice in your ears.

You forced yourself to move, shoving against his chest. He allowed it, stepping back just enough to watch you struggle.

Your glare should have been sharp, but the dizziness dulled it. “You… bastard.”

Anaxa chuckled, tilting his head. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, my dear.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a delicate glass vial.

Inside, swirling with a faint glow, was the same plant you had spent weeks researching.

Understanding slammed into you.

The plant. The rumors. The disappearances.

Your breath came short and shallow. “You planned this from the beginning.”

Anaxa smiled.

“Of course I did.”

Your mind was still reeling, but one thing was clear—Anaxa was not just some wandering researcher.

He was someone powerful. Someone who had influence. And now that you thought about it, his posture, his way of speaking, the way he expected to be obeyed. It was all too familiar.

Royalty.

Your lips parted in realization. “You—”

“I rule the neighbor kingdom, Y/N.” He said it softly, as if it were the simplest truth in the world. “And now, so will you.”

Your stomach twisted. “I never wanted that.”

“But you need it,” he countered. “And you need me.”

You clenched your fists. “What I need is for you to let me go.”

He smiled, patient as ever. “But you won’t leave.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And why is that?”

Anaxa’s stepped closer, his fingers brushing your pulse point. “Because I’ve rooted myself in you.”

Your breath caught.

“You feel it, don’t you?” His voice was low, hypnotic. “That pull. That ache.”

The poison makes you crave him.

Anaxa leaned in, his lips mere inches from yours.

“You are mine now.”

For days, you tried to fight it.

The bond, the warmth, the way his presence made your pulse race.

His voice in your ears. His hands guiding yours as you tended to the flowers. His whispers at night, promising, coaxing, binding.

You hated him. You hated how good he was at this. At pulling you in. At making you his.

And worst of all?

Somewhere along the way…

You had stopped trying to leave.

There was no escape from him. You will soon wither in his arms just like that lily.

[strnilolover]

Vampire!Matt isn’t afraid of a little blood

This writing below the cut will contain the action of eating someone out while they’re on their period. If this idea disturbs you or is not your preferred writing then do not read or read at your own risk.

You were curled up on the bed, wrapped tightly in a thick blanket as if it could shield you from the world. Your legs were drawn to your chest, your fingers clutching the fabric in a death grip. Across from you, Matt sat perched on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

It was that stillness that unnerved you now. His gaze was unrelenting, burning with something you couldn’t quite name. Love, yes, but also something deeper — something primal and hungry that made your breath catch in your throat.

“You don’t have to stay,” you finally murmured, breaking the silence. Your voice was soft, almost lost beneath the sound of the storm outside, but you knew he heard you. He always did.

Matt tilted his head slightly, the corner of his lips quirking into a familiar smirk. It wasn’t mocking, but it held a knowing edge, as if he already anticipated every excuse you were about to give him.

“And why would I leave?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, one that left no room for argument.

You dropped your gaze, your cheeks flushing as you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself. “Because I’m not…feeling like myself tonight,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk softened, though the intensity in his eyes didn’t waver. “Go on,” he urged, his tone coaxing.

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I’m bloated, crampy, and just…gross,” you confessed, your voice shaking slightly. “And on top of that, I’m on my period, so I—”

“Ah,” he interrupted, leaning forward slightly. The candlelight caught the sharp angles of his face, highlighting his cheekbones and the faint curve of his lips. “And you think that’s a reason for me to walk away?”

Your cheeks burned hotter. “It’s messy,” you mumbled, unable to meet his eyes. “And I don’t feel attractive, Matt. I feel the opposite.”

Matt was silent for a long moment, but you felt his presence — his energy — surrounding you. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft but firm.

“Messy?” he repeated, his tone almost incredulous. He shifted closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. His cool touch sent a shiver through you, and his fingers lingered on your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “Sweetheart, there’s nothing about you that’s gross or unattractive.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you searched his face for any hint of insincerity. But there was none — only unwavering conviction in the way he looked at you, as though you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I’m a vampire,” he continued, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You think blood is going to scare me away? If anything…” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “It makes me want you more.”

Your breath hitched at the raw honesty in his tone, the heat in his gaze leaving you momentarily speechless.

“Matt,” you whispered, unsure whether it was a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

“Do you trust me?” he asked softly, his voice grounding and steady, cutting through your hesitation like a knife through fog.

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, the word leaving your lips before you even realized you’d spoken.

“Then let me take care of you,” he murmured, leaning in closer until his cool breath ghosted over your lips.

Before you could respond, his mouth was on yours. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and consuming. His lips, cool and smooth, moved against yours with practiced ease, coaxing you to relax. His hand slid from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin just below your ear.

The kiss deepened, his tongue slipping past your lips to tangle with yours. It was intoxicating, and you found yourself leaning into him, your fingers tangling in the soft strands of his dark hair.

When he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes burned with an intensity that made your pulse race. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice rough and possessive. “Every part of you.”

His hands slid down to the edge of your blanket, his fingers curling into the fabric. “Can I?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with intention.

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding, your cheeks flushing as you let him pull the blanket away. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, and you shivered slightly, but it was nothing compared to the way Matt’s gaze roamed over you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself, his voice thick with reverence. His hands found your thighs, his thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles along your skin as he knelt between your legs. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You squirmed under his intense gaze, your hands twitching as you fought the urge to cover yourself. “Matt, I—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh. His lips were soft and cool, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Let me show you.”

His hands slid down to the hem of your shorts, his fingers hooking into the waistband. He paused, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation. When you gave a small nod, he tugged them down slowly, his movements deliberate as if savoring every second.

Then his lips were right back on you, working slowly, lips and tongue moving with deliberate care as he trailed kisses along your thighs. His hands gripped your hips gently but firmly, holding you in place as he worshipped every inch of you.

He moved his lips higher, placing kisses dangerously close to your aching pussy — you clenched around nothing, a mixture of arousal and blood seeping out of you. Matt’s eyes caught a glimpse of that, a smirk tugging at his lips as the sight of you and smell of you aroused him. Finally, his lips connected to your puffy clit.

And he didn’t hesitate, his tongue moving with precision as he worked you over with a devotion that left you trembling. The coolness of his touch contrasted sharply with the heat pooling in your core, the sensation overwhelming in the best way.

Your fingers reached down and tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as soft moans spilled from your lips. He growled softly against you, the sound vibrating through you and pulling another cry from your throat.

The worry of the mess and your nervous thoughts were completely disregarded, your mind slowly fogging with each swipe of his tongue and each suck to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Matt,” you whimpered, your voice breathless and needy.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips stained crimson. “You taste divine,” he murmured, his voice low and rough before he delved back down, his tongue moving faster.

His hands moved down to grip your thighs tightly now, putting them over his shoulders and holding them wide open to get better access to your now sopping cunt. Your hands tugged his hair, earning another groan from his chest, the vibrations and the action of his nose bumping into your clit made you squeal.

Your head was thrown back against your pillow, your hips now grinding down against his face as the knot formed in your stomach. You desperately wanted to chase the release you now needed — and your actions made Matt speed up.

“I- o-oh fuck! Matt.. m-matt-“ you cried out, bucking your hips wildly against his face now. And he just smirked against your folds, his tongue continuing to move rapidly.

Your stomach was hot — and tight. The band threatening to snap at any moment. But with a few final nudges to your clit, you were gasping and shaking. “C-cum…cumming!” you squealed, thighs snapping shut around his head and your fingers pulled harshly at his locks.

Matt continued to move his tongue, slowing the movements as he collected every drop of your release. When you finally started to push at his head, shying your hips away — was when he pulled himself back. His face was coated with your release and blood.

Your cheeks flushed, your heart racing as he moved back up your body, his cool skin pressing against your warmth. He quickly cleaned his mouth before his lips found yours again, the faint metallic tang of your blood on his tongue only heightened the intimacy of the moment.

“Did so good pretty-” he muttered against your lips, praising you. He pulled away, resting his forehead against your own. “-never have to hide yourself or feel ashamed about this. Always love you — in every stage and form.” he said, and those words made you feel anything but flawed or imperfect.

You smiled sheepishly up at him. “Here — c’mon-“ he says, hand gently tapping the outside of your thigh. “-let’s get you into a warm bath okay? and then we can get your favorite food.”

[dragonsoulage]

Dancing on top of the roof…

feat. Alucard

How haunted romantic could it be when the bloodthirsty gentleman of a vampire is asking the beautiful lady to dance under the moonlight? Two shadows caught up in a dark waltz of love.

Hello guys, Alucard was like my first…the first anime crush I ever had. So we all feel the feminine urge to just dance with a vampire on top of the roof under the stars, right? I have the feeling it would literally fix all my problems 💀👀 so here we are with a little cute story. Nothing really long since this was just a little idea, but stay tuned I have another Alucard story to tell 🌚

Wordcount: 976

Warnings: romantic and fluffy because sometimes my heart needs that ✨👌🏻

Thinking about Alucard and how much it probably would fix you when you dance with him on top of a roof in the middle of the night.

„Beautiful and eternal." you heard a cold voice appearing right behind you. You didn't even hear him to join you. Your gaze drifted from the beautiful starry night sky to the handsome, pale face of the vampire behind you.

Oh, was he beautiful. This face in perfect symmetry. These crimson eyes that gleamed through the curtain of thick raven hair that the wind made blow across his face. The imposing height, the whole aura he presented that seemed to be softer and more inviting when you were around. He had taken off his glasses and hat, simply looking at the woman in front of him.

„Indeed the sky is incredible tonight, just as you described." you agreed with him with a soft voice before you watched how a smile tugged on his lips. Endearing. So oblivious you were. „It was not the sky I was looking at, my dear." Alucard let you know, a subtle hint, that he talked about you when he joined you on the rooftop. Your expression faltered for a second, before you brushed back a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You were such a haunting beauty. You wore a white dress, looking like a historian vampire beauty, that ethereal glow of the moonlight right onto you. Making your skin glow, highlighted your perfect features. Your skin looking so invitingly smooth, yearning to be touched. Around your waist, a corset in a white beige color, with the strings hanging down. You reminded him of something he didn't want to give everyone.

You looked lovely, indeed, so lovely it made his cold vampire heart feel a little bubbly.

„You are a charmer, Alucard. But I still appreciate it. Thank you." you spoke lower, your voice carried through the slight cold wind on the rooftop. Before he then stepped closer, standing beside you, next to your smaller frame. His gaze now turned to the sky too.

„I may be, but what would life be without a little charm? And you deserve to he appreciated." he said with his silk like voice. His heart yearning for your attention and not even being shy about it.

„But you are right, the night is beautiful. I understand why you like to come here." he pointed out. For once, the calm and ethereal sense was more fascinating than the bloody beauty he usually carried with him.

So much blood about him, and yet he appreciated the other finer things in his undead being. Things like you, you captivated him with your own endearing charm, you didn't even know you possessed.

„It is calm here, the stars are eternal, they remind me of you." you let your words sink in. Before you heard the faint sound of a chuckle. Not many complimented him like this. No one ever compared him to the stars.

„They are eternal like you, always existing and shining brighter than any sun ever could with an admirable and softer glow I like so much more than the sun in the day. So...haunting but so bright." you added a little shy before you took your gaze from the sky looking at him and his crimson eyes met yours.

„You flatter me, much more than I thought. Being compared to something so...nice. Remarkable, my dear." he let you know. But before he or you could say anything, suddenly some music started to play.

A romantic but haunting melody of a classical song. Sweet and dark, just like the combination of you two. The music sounded like as if it was played from a gramophone. So old-fashioned, but so good.

Probably Walter was playing some and left his window open so you two could hear it on the top of the roof.

Alucard didn't even hesitate. Simply going after his instinct when it was about you.

With a curt bow and a hand he reached out to you, he spoke with a devoted voice. „Would you allow me this dance, my lady?"

Your heart beat faster, made a small jump before you nodded, and your delicate hand laid into his.

„I would love to." you replied before you were pulled close to his chest. Your hand laid on his shoulder and the other in his large hand. It was so romantic. Dancing on the rooftop under the star sky with the moonlight shining upon you.

„I need to admit it's quiet to the moment. Never thought I would dance on a rooftop with someone like you." you added when you felt how he guided you with safe steps over the straight part of the roofs. Effortlessly twirling you and catching your form. Making you gasp when you suddenly landed in his arms.

„Why not making this beautiful not more memorable? How should I not want to dance with the eternal beauty like you?" he asked you before you were picked up gently again. You two caught up in a waltz under the stars. With smooth movements just for yourselves. No one to see, no one to tell. Just for you and the vampire. You felt like it would fix everything that was happening right now. When you were caught up in his eyes, his face, the way his voice wrapped around you like silk. The way he made you feel so special.

No matter how bloody he could be how much he would kill, to you, he was soft, a true gentleman. A true vampire, that expressed his affection toward you, because who was in the position to make him feel light? Who made him feel a rush without having to hunt? It was you, only you. And you were all his under the moonlight right now....

[jobean12-blog]

Slow Ride

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 3,002

Summary: Joel picks you up (sorta rescues you) and your attraction to him is instant even with the state of the world, but does he feel the same?

Author's Note: Honestly, my friend @lizette50 shared the gif below with me and just his hands on that steering wheel sparked 3k words of nonsense. I'm not only obsessed with his neck but also his hands (and the rest of him!) Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy 💕

Warnings: there's some tension- both sexual and other, softness, grumpy Joel, flirting

The gif below is from pinterest HERE

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The sound of tires on the road draws your attention from your hiding spot but when they skid to a stop you stay in your unseen position and sneak a look. You can never be too careful and staying hidden and quiet has been an essential part of your survival so far.

But all your rational thoughts drain and every muscle in your body coils tightly as you lay eyes on the man that steps out of the old truck.

Before anything else registers, you notice the way he moves. His long, thick legs carry him surely toward the nearest broken-down car and when he bends over to check the gas tank you get a glimpse of his ass in the tight jeans.

With a huff of frustration he straightens and walks toward another car, this one closer to you, and you can see the hard set of his jaw, his eyes much the same as they scan his surroundings.

You can’t stop your gaze from tracking down over his broad shoulders and wide chest.

Without remembering to keep quiet you shift to get a better look and accidentally knock into a rusty metal part, sending it careening down to the pavement with a loud clang.

His gun is out and cocked before you even register your error and with shaky hands you stand up and reveal yourself.

He locks eyes with you across the small space of separation and you have the satisfaction of watching his shoulders relax and his eyes slowly peruse you from head to toe. Perhaps it was merely to check if you were armed…or infected…or maybe he just wanted to look.

Either way, it sets your nerve ends tingling and when his gaze lingers, warmth races across your skin.

“I’m not a threat,” you say, squaring your shoulders but keeping your arms and hands high above your head.

He still doesn’t speak and keeps the gun trained on you, his expression wary.

“I promise. I’m just trying to get to Jackson.”

At the mention of Jackson, his eyes narrow and he steps closer. You don’t budge.

“How do I know you’re not infected?” he asks.

“Well, I’m all alone and have been for days. I’d let you check me out but we just met…usually I have a man at least take me out to dinner first.”

Your joke gets the opposite reaction you hoped for. His jaw clenches and his teeth grind under the pressure.

“I do need a ride though.”

You lower your hands, smoothing them over your hips and brushing the dust from your knees.

“That is, if you don’t mind me bumming one.”

Your hope starts to slip with his extended silence.

He finally drops the gun and pinches the bridge of his nose.

You slowly walk forward and extend your hand to introduce yourself. He stares at it for a moment before taking it in his larger one.

“Joel,” he rumbles.

“You wouldn’t leave a girl stranded, would you Joel?”

“Fine. Get movin’.”

You slide a glance across the console of the rattling old pick-up truck and watch him under the cover of your lashes. He hasn’t looked at you once since loading you into the vehicle, instead keeping his dark eyes glued to the road, jaw still tight with obvious tension.

You were sure you caught him giving you another once over when you bent down to sift through your bag but by the time you felt his stare and peeked his way he was muttering something incoherent and running a rough hand through his hair.

“So…” you start, turning his way slightly. “How long is the ride?”

He shoots you a look that says, “are you serious?”

“Shouldn’t take us more than a day.” He grinds his teeth, something you’ve come to notice he does often, and lifts his eyes to the rearview mirror. “Long as we don’t run inta any trouble.”

“I see…” You cross your legs, hoping to appear relaxed. “Maybe we’ll see something cool on the way.”

His bushy eyebrows shoot up to his hairline but he doesn’t grace you by meeting your eyes when he asks, “ever been to Wyoming?”

You’re surprised silence keeps you quiet for longer than you mean to be and you see his hands flex on the steering wheel.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to ask me any questions.”

He sends you an unamused look. “Ain’t one for much talkin’ these days.”

You nod in understanding but don’t hide your smile. “And no, I haven’t. But I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”

“What do you plan on doin’ when we get there?”

With a shrug you turn to look out the window, tracing your finger down a smear of dirt on the other side of the glass.

“Help out of course…and I was hoping I could do some planting. You know grow food…or something like that...breed animals…farm?”

Your thoughts trail off as you realize how silly and inadequate your plan sounds but you turn when you feel the heavy weight of his stare and realize he’s studying you.

“You know you should keep your eyes on the road,” you say with a half-hearted smile.

He stares for a beat longer before turning his attention back to driving.

“Yeah because there’s so many other cars out here.”  

You gasp. “He makes a joke? Pull over, I think I’m feeling dizzy.”

He merely grunts in reply but you’re sure you catch the side of his mouth twitching with a smile.

“What do you plan on growin’? The weather can be pretty harsh in the winters.”

“Do you really want to know?”

He frowns at the windshield.

You let out a yielding sigh and start to rattle off a list.

“I dunno…I was thinking maybe…mangoes, bananas, pineapple! Oh kiwi!”

At his dark look you smile brightly to assure him you’re joking.

“Very funny.”

“About time you noticed.”

His gaze turns from the road back to you, raking down your body and back up to meet your face.

“Oh, I noticed sweetheart.”

The interior of the truck suddenly becomes too hot and you start to crack the window for some fresh cool air.

You try your best to settle into the seat and focus on the rush of the scenery, letting the tension filled silence stretch until he speaks again.

“What are you thinkin’ about over there?”

Unsure of where to take the conversation after that unexpected turn, you fall back on your humor.

“Kiwis..and mangoes and bananas..”

This time you see the corners of his eyes crinkle with a genuine smile and you cheer inwardly.

His hand relaxes on the steering wheel before tightening again, long fingers wrapping easily around the worn leather as he slowly slides along the curve, the action drawing your attention and holding it.

His hands are big, dwarfing the wheel with rough and calloused fingers. Your thoughts quickly drift away from tropical fruits and fill with the fantasy of how it would feel if he touched your bare skin.

You seek the air from the window but find it too warm and gently press the back of your hand to your cheek. Your skin is hot and it does nothing to alleviate the feeling so you let your hand drift to the top buttons of your shirt and undo them, leaving the material agape.

When he shifts in the driver’s seat you try not too look. Try not to notice the way his legs are spread wide and his jeans pull tightly between them.

He turns and catches you staring, holding your gaze before his drops to your lips. The hot look in his eyes, the one that continues to dip and linger on your exposed neckline, is hard to ignore and your breath hitches.

By the time you reach Jackson the air inside the truck is thick with tension and you throw the door open and take a deep inhale.

Tommy runs to greet Joel, his eyes shifting to you suspiciously. They talk in hushed voices, Joel standing with his head cocked, hands on hips and signature clenched jaw.

Tommy finally smiles your way and walks over to greet you. He’s handsome and much friendlier than Joel and you instantly feel welcome.

“I can’t believe you survived the whole ride with him,” Tommy jokes.

A laugh bubbles from your throat.

“I see you inherited all the charm and wit.”

Tommy’s smile widens and he casually throws an arm over your shoulder as he leads you into the town.

“I like her better than you already,” he shoots over his shoulder at Joel, who follows your steps with a scowl.

After you get settled in your new place Joel comes to retrieve you for a bite to eat.

“Hungry?” he asks

“Starving actually.”

His dark eyes study you before he gestures toward the large bar/hall with an arm held out. You walk ahead and feel the press of his hand at your lower back as he reaches to open the door for you.

You lean into his touch and search the space, feeling slightly overwhelmed as several sets of unknown eyes turn to examine you.

Joel’s fingers splay at your back, sending tingles along your spine, then slide over to the curve of your waist. He pulls you into his side and walks you to an empty table.

“Don’t mind them,” he whispers. “They aren’t used to new people.”

You nod and miss his touch instantly as he releases you to pull out your chair. Your meal is eaten in relative silence but you don’t miss how his eyes drift to you at every opportunity.

“You know,” he starts, surprising you once again by speaking first, “if you need help building anythin’ for your plants…your mangoes, I can help.”

You giggle at his joke and lean in closer.

“Do you know a lot about farming?”

He pauses with the spoon half way to his mouth and the corner of his lips lift slightly.

“Enough.”

You let out a playful scoff. “That’s convincing.”

“I can definitely build you plant beds…”

“I’ll take any help I can get,” you say with a smile.

The next week goes by in a blur of meeting new people and adjusting to new routines. You still can’t believe you’ve found a safe place to be. It may not last forever but for now you’re going to be nothing but grateful.

You seek Joel out regularly, stealing as much time with him as you can even if he remains quiet more often than not. He’s more talkative than before and always answers your questions, adding an occasional playful joke here or there, but seems to prefer the comfortable silence between the two of you.

It’s on one particularly warm and sunny morning that Joel scratches at the back of his neck, a feeling of anxiousness crawling over his skin. He tries to tamp down the twitch of alarm but it’s useless, the sense only growing stronger as more time passes.

Where did you say you’d be this morning?

He drops the tool from his hand and heads for the old barn shed, remembering your words about looking for some old planting equipment. He’s almost at the partially closed doors when he hears voices. At first he can’t make out the words since they are hushed but when he hears your clear, “no, move,” he pushes open the doors with a bang.

He enters the barn with his fingers digging into his palms and his breath coming in deep through his nose. Your eyes shoot wide when you see him and Jack, the man who has you cornered, follows your line of vision and steps back immediately.

“You ok sweetheart?” Joel asks through clenched teeth.

You look at Jack and narrow your eyes. “I am now.”

“We were just…” Jack starts.

Joel holds up his hand and steps closer to Jack. “If you ever have trouble understanding the word ‘no,’ again, I’ll be more than happy to explain what it means.”

Jack stiffens at Joel’s dangerous tone and warning words and with a barely perceptible nod he walks out without looking back.

Joel’s eyes follow him until he’s out of sight then he moves purposefully toward you with long strides.

“I’m sorry,” Joel says quietly. “Are you ok?”

“You’re sorry?” you repeat. “But…”

“I didn’t warn you. I shouldn’t have let him within ten feet of you.”

“Well you took care of it. I don’t think he’ll ever come near me again.”

“Better not,” he grits out. “Or he’ll have to deal with me.”

A small smile plays upon your lips and you take a step closer, resting your hands on his biceps.

“I should be thanking you.”

You stare up at him and in a move he never expects you lift your hands to his hair and slide them through his soft curls, pulling him down for a kiss.

For a moment you think he’s going to pull back but when your tempting curves mold to his body and you let out a soft moan he smooths one hand up your back and the other around your waist, tucking you into him as he deepens the kiss.

You whisper his name, brushing your lips to his and getting some air before you kiss him again. He walks backward until you hit the wooden wall behind you, his entire body slotted against yours so you can feel every inch of him.

“Fuck,” he groans out, maintaining intense eye contact when he traces your jaw with his thumb then gently sweeps it across your swollen lips.

“Been wantin’ to kiss you since the moment I laid eyes on you sweetheart,” he admits.

“Just kiss me?” you ask, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

He dips his head, his nose softly bumping yours as his lips hover above yours.

“No…not just…”

“JOEL?!”

At the sound of Tommy’s loud call Joel grumbles a curse and rests his forehead to yours. He reluctantly steps away but takes your hand in his and lifts it to his mouth, gently kissing your palm and then the curve of your fingertips.

He doesn’t say anything as he backs away and disappears between the doors with a tender release of your hand. You remain rooted in place, unable to do more than press your tingling fingers to your tingling lips.

When the rest of the day passes without any sign of Joel you start to worry you imagined the spark between you and maybe pushed him too far. Dinner time comes and goes and you still don’t see him but before you head to your small house to retire for the night you catch Tommy’s wife, Maria, outside and rush over to ask her if she’s seen Joel.

Her expression is somber before she answers.

“They left this morning,” she says quietly as she delicately rubs her belly.

“Left?”

Maria nods. “Trouble at the border. Tommy wouldn’t get into details but he seemed worried.”

You swallow thickly and thank her, letting her know to get you if she needs anything. Once you’re back inside your place you lean against the door and go over every interaction and every word, although few, between you and Joel.

Why didn’t he tell you and say goodbye? When would he be back? He had to come back…

Two full days pass with no sign of them. You linger at the window every morning and night, hoping to hear the distinct clop of hooves on the dirt.

It isn’t until midnight comes and goes and the clear sky is filled with twinkling bright stars that you’re awakened by the sound of a heavy knock at your door.

You startle from your sleeping spot on the couch and listen again, wondering if it’s your imagination.

Knock, knock.

“Sweetheart. It’s me. Let me in.”

You stand just beyond the threshold, your fingers hovering over the doorknob.

“Open the door for me darlin.’ I have to see you.”

The lock turns and very slowly the door opens.

You’re standing there in his flannel, barefoot and fragile.

“You’re back,” you state, your tone wary.

He waits for any sign of apprehension then brushes past you and spins around, taking you with him and bracing one large hand above your head to push the door closed with a click.

When he leans in closer and crowds you against the hard surface your lips part in awareness and his mouth grazes yours gently.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you before I left.”

“Joel,” you start, shaking your head. “You don’t owe me any goodbyes…”

“But?” he adds.

“I was so worried…and I missed you.”

His fingers fall to the buttons of his shirt, slipping through the large openings at your waist and coasting over the front of your panties.

“Missed you too sweetheart. Been thinkin’ about how sweet those lips taste for the last two damn days.”

Without wasting another moment he brings his mouth down on yours, a low groan spilling from his throat. His hands cradle your face, his lips trailing along your jaw to your ear.

“Are you gonna let me find out if you’re sweet all over? he whispers.

Instead of answering, you thread your fingers through his hair and tug him down for another searing kiss. He presses you harder against the door and circles his hips so you can feel him hard along your stomach.

“You gonna give me a nice little taste darlin’?”

Your fingernails lightly drag down his chest, watching as his eyes darken and the muscles in his throat work over his hard swallow.

When your hands fall to the first closed button of his shirt, the one you’re still wearing, he groans and let’s his gaze fall to track the movement. You slowly unbutton it and drag a finger down, parting the fabric until you reach the next button and do the same, inch by inch exposing your bare skin.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re drivin’ me outta my goddamn mind.”

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @kmc1989

[fungateshortcakes]

Personal attention ASMR

Don't ask questions just run with it

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: You use Logan as your ASMR model

Wordcount: 2.4k (this was supposed to be a drabble what happened)

Warnings/tags: none, english is not my first language, fluff, established relationship, reader is gender neutral but is described to wear acrylic nails, sharp or dull challenge, hair brushing, face tracing, nail tapping, face masks, implied that reader wifes Logan up in the future lol

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The cozy glow of a string of fairylights illuminated Logan as he sat in his armchair, a beer in hand, watching you fiddle with your - what did you call it? - ASMR setup? You struggled to get your camera into the right position on your tripod without knocking off the little hypersensitive microphones that extended from each side.

Logan sat there with an amused smile, but as his eyes wandered over the coffee table that was packed with various tools he couldn't name, facemasks that ran too pink and glittery for his liking- in that moment he thought, why the hell had he agreed to this? Your damned puppy eyes and sweet kisses, that's why.

"You're seriously gon' make me do this?" he asked you, standing up from his seat to stretch. "You agreed to it" you pouted before laughing. "Do I have to let you sign something next time?"

Logan rolled his eyes playfully at your words, shaking his head and lifting his hands dismissively "Nah, I'm kiddin'. I'll do it. But just cause it's you" he replied, helping you connect everything. You gave his rugged cheek a biiig kiss "You're the best boyfriend ever"

Logan chuckled and gave you back some sloppy, over the top kisses to your own cheeks until you were grossed out giggling. "I won't take the blame if your lil' fans don't like it though"

You shook your head. "I am sure they will love it. And you have nothing to worry about except being relaxed and looking pretty. I'll handle the rest" you teased him, smoothing out the thick neutral grey coloured blanket on your carpet in front of the couch, adding a matching pillow for Logan to rest his head on.

He shimmied into position on the ground so he looked directly into the camera hanging over his face. You made sure that his face was entirely in frame, fiddling with the contrast controls of the camera. The warm light from the fireplace contoured the left side of his face while the cold fairylights illuminated the right side of it, creating a interesting and aesthetical pleasing scene. This was gonna be great!

After everything was tuned to perfection, you knelt down over Logans head so you had all the access to his face that you needed. You had even gotten new acrylic nails for the occasion!

You rubbed your hands together "So, one of the most important rules of ASMR is no talking, only whispering. Okay? We want the ambience to be nice and peaceful" you explained excitedly to him. You knew that Logan knew what he was getting into - somewhat. The concept of ASMR wasn't too foreign to him. That comes with having a better half that does ASMR content for a living, but you still wanted to make sure.

Logan scoffed, snorting "Right. Peaceful. That's me"

You slapped his chest, shooting him a mocking glare in the process. "Shush now. I want to start" Logan blew a rasberry at you but quickly settled down after you switched on the camera for recording.

You showed your freshly manicured nails into the camera, tapping the crisp acrylic before slightly scraping them over Logans face "Welcome to another personal attention ASMR. My model for today is my beautiful boyfriend. He was kind enough to be of assistance" you whispered into the microphones, your voice soft and quiet.

Logan huffed at your words, only a small smile playing at his lips but he chose to not say anything and let you work. "We will be starting by tracing his face." you cooed gently, tapping the tips of your nails against his cheek with your left hand while your right hand mimicked the movements off-screen on a wooden board "Oh yeah, forgot to mention, he is a lumberjack, so he is more wood than man" you giggled into the mic, making Logans eyes roll at the corniness. But he couldn't deny that it felt nice.

You drew tingly patterns on his face, each sounding like scratching across crisp wood. You poked three dots under his eyes, drew an x on his forhead over and over again, traced over his frownlines and trailed your nail over his face in a continous line until you gently proded at his lips, making it sound like you knocked on them. He gave the tip of your nail a brief kiss, making you sigh out a smile into the mic. You tapped his face a few more times until you decided to switch up the trigger.

"Next, we will be playing a very popular little game" you spoke in a shushed tone, creating a bit of anticipation before you showed the camera two tools. One was a make-up brush, the other a kind of metal dermaroller with rotating spikes. You brought the tools to Logans head after you parted his hair to your liking "I'm going to touch your scalp with different textures. One is dull-" you started to explain, dragging the soft bristles of your brush over his head "-and the other one is going to be sharp like this" you ended, dragging the spiky roller across. "You feel the difference?" Logan nodded at your question, a low grumble sounding in the back of his throat.

"Good. I want you to tell me which one you feel, sharp or dull. Close your eyes for me, baby" you cooed quitely, humming as Logan did as he was told.

You angled his head a bit to have easier access, taking your time to part his hair neatly in a different location than before until you were ready to start. You stippled the brush against his head, waiting for an answer. "Dull" he whispered and for a second, you felt your chest tighten with joy. He was actually playing along and taking this seriously, it warmed your heart. When you said he was the best boyfriend, you meant it.

You switched the tool, drawing a line with the spike roller from the back all the way in front to his hairline, picking it up again and waiting for his reaction. "Sharp" he murmured and wow, his voice was very relaxing like this. You always found his voice soothing, but his deep whispers were another level. "Very good" you praised and a little proud smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. You decided to use the sharp roller again, letting it hit his skin only shortly before stopping. "Sharp" he replied, enjoying the way the tool made strong tingles errupt from the very top of his head all the way down his back. This was nice.

Your fingers raked through his hair, choosing another part of his head to part. You swiped the tip of your brush over him next, nodding as he whispered "Dull" to you in a hushed voice. You took your time to admire his face for a moment. It wasn’t tense nor taught, the usual frown line between his brows smoothed out and barely visible.

Another stipple of your brush "Dull", another turn of your roller "Sharp".

If you asked Logan, you could do this forever. He would prefer to be completely silent, though. And for you to only use the spiky tool.

To tease him a bit, you used both the brush and the dermaroller at the same time, softly giggling at the way his nose scrunched a bit in confusion. "Come again?" he whispered, a gruffness in his tone. You did, watching him lose faith in himself. As you repeated it the third time, he cracked open an eye and tried to keep his reaction as quiet as he could as to not mess up the video "That ain't fair, sugar" he said a little louder than intended, making you softly giggle into the microphone.

You put your stuff away, ready to move onto the next trigger. Your nails found his coarse beard, scratching along the thick mutton chops in circles while you explained what you were going to do next. "Now that we have messed up his hair quite a bit, I think it’s time for a bit of hair brushing" you whispered, cooing at the way Logan purred almost like a cat as you played with his beard. You kept that in mind for next time.

You sat back and got a neat brush, showing it off to the camera, tapping your nails against the plastic backside a little, before letting your fingers glide over the bristles slowly, softly whispering "bruushhh, bruushhh" over and over again.

When you started, Logan fought the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head. Your slow strokes just hit the spot, tingles and shivers exploding on his head. If the little spike tool felt like heaven already, then this was absolute nirvana. Now this was something you could do for the rest of his life.

Your gentle whispers of brushing fell on deaf ears as Logan tried not to hum at the feeling of the bristles scratching over his scalp. You combed through his whole head of hair multiple times, changing out the brushes and combs from time to time to not make it boring for the viewers and to give Logan different sensations.

When you were done, you settled on scratching his scalp with your nails instead, both hands under his head, massaging in deep circles. "Oh wow" Logan couldn’t help but murmur, closing his eyes for a second to stop them from trying to roll back. You could practically see the shudder that went through him at that, his mouth slightly agape.

As you stopped to get your next pieces of equipment, Logans eyes fluttered open, darting around as if he had just randomly woken up in the middle of nowhere, completely disoriented. It was cute.

"Last but not least, I have some face masks prepared for him." you muttered, presenting the camera a glittery, foaming face mask, swirling a brush through the bowl it was in, the soft crackling of the bubbles being picked up by the mic.

"But first, we will lightly prep his skin. Close your eyes for me, love" you whispered to Logan who gladly let his eyes flutter shut. You used a clear face primer, putting it on his face in little droplets all over before moving to get your sparkly water globes. You turned the globes in your hand, a satisfying glug glug glug emitting from them, iridescent glitter swirling inside. You brought them together at the bottom ever so gently as to not make them break over Logans face, a sound you either loved or hated coming from them as they bounced off of each other quickly.

Then you let the round, bulbous sides glide over Logans face to spread the primer and work it into his skin. At first he slightly jumped from the sudden coldness, but it didn’t take long for him to ease into it as the bulbs warmed up.

You were swiping the smooth globes over his skin effortlessly, removing the puffiness from under his eyes, massaging his cheeks in circular motions and easing any kind of headache as you glid over his forhead and temples. He could really really get used to this.

Like with everything else, you ended this treatment far too soon for his liking. And if he didn't know any better, he would actually start to protest.

The next thing he knew, he felt something cold and gel-like being pressed to his under eyes. Nurishing eye patches - sparkling, probably. Then he heard you rub your hands together, before your palms landed on his cheeks. The foam on your hands crackled loudly at the contact, the bubbles bursting and popping on his skin. You massaged it in, cooeing and making sounds with your mouth. His head lolled a little, too relaxed and sleepy for his own good. But he wasn't about to fall asleep, nuh uh, he wouldn’t fall asleep because of some ASMR stuff.

By the time your hands were back on his scalp to let the foam mask really sink in before washing it off, he was gone. Out like a light

At first, you hadn't even noticed, mindlessly scratching and massaging his head thoroughly with your nails and admiring his relaxed face, thinking about how lucky you were to have him. You had boyfriends before that laughed in your face when you asked them to be part of a video. When they realised you weren't joking, they got mad and lashed out, telling you that not even over their dead body would they sit there like a dumbass and have you whispering weird bulshit in their ear. You were disappointed, a simple no would have done it. But they were angry like it was something deeply personal. Not Logan though, he was a sweetheart.

He acted like he didn't want to, that he was only doing this because you batted your eyelashes at him, but deep down you knew he liked doing these things for you, seeing you so happy and excited was enough. If he was truly against it, he wouldn’t be in this position right now.

You liked to think he was secretly actually enjoying this - imagine your face as you realised he had fallen dead asleep, softly snoring as you wiped the foam mask off his face ever so gently as to not wake him up. "He has fallen asleep, guys" you whispered into the mic, the giddy smile could be heard from your voice even though your face wasn’t visible. You couldn't believe it. Your big, beefy teddy bear of a boyfriend fell asleep because of a little pampering.

You cooed softly, rubbing the last oil treatment onto his skin, being extra careful and gentle with him. "If you liked this video, leave a like, consider following my channel and leave a comment if you want to see more boyfriend content" you said in a hushed voice, coddling the face of your sleeping boyfriend. "See you next time, lovelies!" you whispered, booping Logans nose before switching off the camera.

Your boyfriend continued to snooze even after that, laying there unbothered with a glowy face. And it that moment you knew, maybe it was time. Just maybe, a few videos later, you could welcome your fans to another ASMR video with your husband.

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This idea came to me so randomly, i hope you guys still like it. Let me know in the comments please and leave a like, reblog if you want <3 I love to see it🎀

[nisuna]

I humbly request more step bro Yuuji… 😳

And I shall most certainly deliver ;^)♡

this is heavily inspired by one of enoki junya's audio dramas, which is just chef's kiss iykyk, without further ado hope you enjoy!!<3

TW: stepcest, first time?(sus), allegedly inexperienced, oral f receiving, unprotected sex, creampie, mating press, missionary, Nee-chan🤤, aged up ofc, ~1.5k words

♡masterlist♡

-------------------strictly 18+; MDNI-------------------

"Can I eat you out?"

You definitely did not expect to find yourself in this kind of situation when Yuji first came to visit you today. It was weird, but you were definitely intrigued.

"Have you ever done that before?"

"No", he confessed. "But im a fast learner!" he exclaimed and you could see his imaginary tail wagging with excitement. How can you say no to those puppy eyes.

"I can't believe I'm doing this.", you sighed.

He was waiting patiently with begging eyes. However, as soon as you gave him the go ahead he immediately latched his teeth onto the waistband of your panties, pulling them down in one smooth motion.

"Where did you learn that move from?, you cocked an eyebrow, suspicion growing

"That's a secret" he chuckled sticking his tongue out in excitement. "Whoa you're glistening and I havent even touched you yet. You're really amazing Nee-chan."

"Shut up."

"Alright, alright, just tell me if you're uncomfortable."

"Fuck just do it already ah-"

You moaned as soon as his tongue hit you, legs cramping and toes curling. His licks were so delicate and soft, it had your legs squirming, unsure where you should put them. So he made that decision for you by hoisting them over his broad shoulders. As he sprawled out one of his big palms over your tummy to pin you down the other slipped under your thin top grabbing a handful of your breast.

The sudden intrusion made you speeze his face between your thighs. Borderline suffocating, but he loved every second of it nonetheless.

He meticulously fondled your breast, pinching your nipple ever so often. Every small movement of his pushed you more and more over the edge. Soon you couldn't do anything but chant his name over and over. When you finally came on his tongue he kept licking you through your orgasms. He did not want to pull away, but as soon as you started whining from the overstimulation he finally did, a mix of his spit and your juices running down his chin.

He leaned his cheak against your thigh before he spoke up. "Whoa, she's so pretty" he hummed running his fingers through your pussy, admiring it.

"Don't say stupid things like that. Besides, you're a dirty liar. As if that was your first time ever doing that!"

"But she is!", he firmly stated thick fingers spreading you open, trying to get an even better look at your cunt and completely ignoring your accusations. "If you dont believe me we can do it in front of a mirror next time mh-", you slapped your hand over his mouth, which only earned you a moan and a lick to your palm.

You let out a long sigh before speaking up, "Thats enough, Mr.", you pulled his ear, "Come up here and kiss me, if your mouth doesn't have anything better to do."

He grinned before kissing up your body and finally pushing his lips against yours. At the same time he pushed two thick fingers inside of you, making you gasp at the sneak attack and pull his hair. He groaned at the pain, before latching his mouth onto your neck.

He was trying to stretch you out, because how could he possibly fit into such a tight hole, when his fingers barely had any room. After a few kisses and bites to your neck he deemed you ready.

He was gentle when he as he slotted himself between your legs.

"Shit, I don't have any condoms", he panicked frantically looking across the room.

"It's fine. I like it better without, anyway...", you trailed off.

"Shit", he groaned. "You really are the best, Nee-chan." With a content sigh he lined himself up with you, before starting to push in. To his surprise he was still faced with some resistance.

"Ah you're so tight, please relax Nee-chan ah"

"Easier said than done", you groaned putting your arm over your eyes.

You both moaned, when he finally bottomed out.

"Wow, im really inside of you..."

One moment he was caressing your thighs so sweetly and the next he was knocking the wind out of your lungs with his harsh thrusts. You did not expect that much force from someone who claimed that he had no experience.

"Wait slow down mh-!", he cut you off by leaning down and kissing you, cradling your face in his big palms.

"Have you done this with anyone before?", he mumbled against your lips. "You're my first, Nee-chan."

"Liar.", you moaned.

"Am I?"

"Mh, whatever. Just, slowly, it's been a while.", you felt your cheeks burn up at the lame confession of not getting laid. You were trying to enjoy it, but with each thrust, you kept adjusting your body. And of course, he noticed.

"Is it uncomfortable? Here put your leg up."

Without much resistance, he hoisted one leg over his shoulder. The new position made your eyes roll back, as he was hitting you deeper now. You couldnt stop the sounds that kept falling from our mouth and with each thrust you squeezed him just right, making him moan in return

"Whoa do you like it? Does this angle feel good.", he gently pecked your ankle.

"Mhm~~", you mewled, instinctively covering your face with your hands.

"Please dont hide, Nee-can. I want to see you."

He leaned down now pressing both of your legs against your chest, which earned him another moan.

"Wow, you're so flexible, Nee-chan. How lewd~"

He kissed your hands covering your face. "Please look at me nee chan. I want to see how good I'm making you feel.

He sounded so sweet, so who were you to deny him. When you finally looked up, big brown eyes were staring right back at you.

"Does it feel good?", he smiled and you pulled him into another kiss.

"Yes, it feels really good.", you smiled, holding his face in your hands.

"Oh, Nee-chan", he cried hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "I'm so happy right now."

He slowed down and came to a halt. Just hugging you and breathing in your scent. He soon let your legs down and leaned back. With him he pulled your hands down so your arms were pushing your tits together. He could hold both of your wrists in one rough hand and the mental image of him being bigger than you in every sense of the word made you squirm. He stuck his tongue out at the sight in front of him. Looking down to where you two were connected and at your messy face. After a few deep breaths he went to town.

In this new position you could feel him getting close, so you put your legs around his waist, essentially trapping him.

"Wait, Nee-chan. If you do that I'm going to cum." he he looked at you with a panicked expression.

"I know~", you grinned with excitement.

"I can cum inside of you, right? Please can I cum inside?"

He was too cute to deny him, so you moaned with a nod.

"Yes please fill me up~"

The way you stuck your tongue out really got him.

"Fuck you're so hot."

As soon as he let go of your hands, he hugged you tight, almost suffocating you with his beefy arms and within a couple thrusts he spilled his thick seed deep inside of you.

He was out of breath and his heart was about to jump out of his chest, so you tried your best to calm him down by caressing his hair humming contently. His head was resting on your breasts and he swore he was in heaven.

After a brief moment of silence he looked up at you with a stern expression and said, "Only do it with me from now on, okay? I want to be the only one to see you like this. I will do anything you want, so please, Nee-chan, just me."

You tried holding your laughter at his cute request, so you ruffled his fluffy pink hair before putting your foreheads together and whipering a quitet "Sure." against his lips. Life was good.

---

"Tell me tho, that wasn't really your first time right? That was just an act to get me in my feels.", you lifted an eyebrow at him and he expertly averted his gaze. His face had *caught* written all over it, so you pulled on his cheek to get his attention.

"First one that meant anything to me, though.", he pouted.

Darn sweet talker.

-----

Gaaaahhh I havent written for him in so long I really missed him 🤧🩷

Anyway, hope you enjoyed, please lmk what you thought! Until next time MWAH

[revelboo]

Hello! I hope you're having a good day! May I request It Had To Be You? Your writing is so marvelous I can't get enough! 🤗🤗❤️❤️

Sure! Glad you like my nonsense!

It Had To Be You Pt 13

TFO Megatron x Reader

• Servos cupping the back of your head, tangling in your hair, he listens to the broken sounds you make. And his spark aches because he doesn’t know how to make it better. Or if he even can, so he just holds you while you cry and rage until you fall silent in his lap. Feeling off balance, he rests his chin on top of your head, expecting you to push him away. When you don’t, he curls an arm around you, spark warming when you allow it. Doubts you’re actually accepting him, you’re just too exhausted to fight anymore, but he wants to pretend everything isn’t broken between you, because he’s so tired of the fighting.

• Knowing you should shove him away, you just want to have this. Want to pretend you’re being held by someone who actually cares for you, who doesn’t just want you because they’re tangled in the same weird compulsion you are. Is it so much to ask to be loved? For something more than a solely physical relationship? Really, you can’t even call it that, can you? That’s what hurts the most. Because you don’t even know him, don’t know anything about him because he doesn’t volunteer anything. And you’re no better, keeping yourself distant. Unable to open up because you doubt he’d care when all he wants is your body, none of the rest of you matters. This can’t go on, though. It’s hurting you more every day. “Can we start over?”

• Words so soft a whisper, he almost misses them, he looks down but can’t see your face hidden against the mesh of his neck. Spark constricting because it’s an attempt to connect hesitantly offered. Wishes you’d look at him, so he can see if you’re serious or if you’ve just come up with another way to try and wound him. Moving slowly he finds one of your little hands and wraps his own around it, smoothing a servo over the back of it. And you turn your hand to line up with his and interlace your fingers with his much bigger servos to spread warm through him even if you still won’t look at him. “D-16,” he finds himself saying, dredging up that ghost of his past. The one he’d tried so hard to bury. “My name was D-16 before.”

• Cheek against him, you listen to his rumbling voice. Listen to a story about blind trust, a hard, dangerous life in the mines. But one he’d been content with. Realizing that he’d been lied to, betrayed all along, that his life meant nothing. You can hear the anger in his voice as he keeps going, voice thick with hatred, but you’re not sure if it’s for what happened to him or for himself. Telling you of the horrible things he’s done and it’s strange, but you understand him. Understand being helpless and angry, the way his voice roughens at points making your heart ache when he mentions his friend, Orion. Admits to killing him by accident. And there’s fury and a horrified betrayal in his voice under the anger that allows you to lift your head. He’s staring at nothing, optics dim and lips parted. Lost in a memory that no matter how old it is, still hurts him.

• Tangled in the past, he vents when soft hands touch his face as you go up on your knees and press your mouth to his. And it’s not about that insatiable need this time. This feels real, as your mouth brushes over his. Whatever this is tying you together isn’t controlling him as he hooks an arm around you and kisses you back. Drowning the past in the feel of your warmth against him. Little hands sliding over him as his glossa steals inside. Not demanding this time, no urgency as he explores you for what feels like the very first time without that need to claim you clouding his thoughts. And there’s so much he wants to ask. Wants to know you, not just your body, but you. Arms holding you close as he brushes his cheek against yours, daring to believe that this can be fixed between you.

Previous

Next

[wizardzvi]

Thinking about how so many fics describe the reaction to close your legs when orgasming, but him?

Leg spreader

ღ Satoru Gojo/gn.Reader

ღ content: oral - gojo receiving. sexual tension. gojo is a piece of work, but tbh you're no better. praise and implicated degradation.

| Takuma ver. | Choso ver. |

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Satoru would have such an arrogant smirk. The whole night of unabashed flirting and pushing your buttons finally paid off to see such a pretty thing between his thighs. Your glare conveyed the challenge, he may think you should feel blessed to be worshiping his cock like this, but you're the one who would make him beg to feel your throat. His blindfold was pushed up his forehead unnecessarily as an attempt at intimidation. Maintaining eye contact with the chosen one from a position of service — unfortunately — made desire curl in your stomach.

Or maybe it was just his pretty face that caused that. Never once did you deny his fuckablility, only that his arrogance was the ultimate turn-off. But still, it didn’t seem to be enough.

You lose sight of his eyes when his head rolls back, sexily lengthening his neck and tilting his hips closer. What should have been a more submissive position had the opposite effect when your arousal leaked into your underwear as his presence dauntingly filled your sight. Satoru's hand holding your hair didn’t tug you this way or that. But still, you, almost mindless in following the ghost of directions of how to please him, twisted your tongue and sucked around whatever you could fit in your mouth. Deep-throating was always uncomfortable, in fear of choking and ruining the mood, so you surprised even yourself when his tip met your soft pallet and pressed a little further. Deciding the rich groan you were rewarded with was worth it, your tongue moved as much as it could while you collected your breath and stayed put to get used to the feeling.

He sat up again to witness your progress. One hand held your cheek as his thumb rubbed tingles around your stretched lips and smeared the saliva you were dripping down his cock. Quiet praises left his lips, “good, that’s it.” “so wet, baby.” “you gonna keep goin’?” Too impersonal to be read as affection towards you, while frustratingly seductive all the same. You did want to keep going. Your goal was to make him shake in pleasure, knock him down a few pegs. So why was your body the one nearly buzzing in anticipation of his release?

Satoru could read you like a fucking book. The annoying tilt of his head and quirk of his eyebrow was the only warning before his foot tucked between your thighs to press against your sex. A muffled moan pulled from you at your surprise. Finally, his breath came out heavier. Rubbing the top of his foot against you, his eyes looked up to the ceiling again as he chuckled.

“Sucking me feels so good, huh? You’re getting off, and I’m not even doing anything.” The jackass.

You were scared he was right. Senses getting fuzzy at the pleasure that sparked through you from his fucking foot. Your eyes looked up desperately to catch his expression. A lazy smile was still on his face, teasing you as he melted into the back of the couch. Without being pushed, your head bobbed and sucked enthusiastically, allowing him to relax completely as you brought him closer and closer. Thoughts plagued your mind.

Is this what he was like when he pleasured himself? Did he know even then that he could convince you to bed him and just use you like a toy?

The fire bubbling under your skin melted easily into frustration for him to acknowledge that you were the one making him feel this way. You were doing a good job. Right?

He finally reacted when your throat constricted as his cock pushed deep, and you refused to let up even as tears fell from your eyes. You had to close them to focus, reluctantly cutting off the view of his beautiful face. But you still had his voice, smooth and thick like honey, and fuck, you wanted him between your legs yesterday. Moaning into you, then into your mouth as he fucked you.

His thighs moved away from your cheeks, stretching out to chase the feeling, rocking into your mouth towards the heat. His hand threaded through your hair to keep you down, while the other brushed past your cheek, lower, to cup and squeeze his balls. It was the last thing he needed before his core tensed and salty cum overflowed in your mouth.

“Ahhhh, fuck yeah.” he breathed. You tried suctioning your lips around his tip when he let you move back to pull off, not wanting to leave a mess. Satoru watched in amusement when you dove back in to lick him clean after swallowing his cum. Your wet lips drawing up and down his length was enough as he lifted your face up to look at him, leaning closer to tease you with the thought of a kiss.

“Hmm, you’re cute. I think we can make this happen again.” He only laughed when you called him a bitch.

[rose24207]

Mafia!Lando is at one of his clubs and finds Reader dancing with one of his men and he gets jealous. (Reader is only dancing with Lando’s man because she wanted to dance, but figured it might not be super smart to dance alone).

You belong to me

Summary: Lando becomes possessive and jealous when he finds you dancing with one of his men at his club, and demands your attention for himself.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, fluff, angst (if you squint), jealousy

TW: Mafia

A/N: Thank you for the request! I love your ideas! I hope you like it! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

Lando was used to the noise of his club. The music pulsed through the floors, a steady thrum that seemed to vibrate in the very air around him.

The laughter, the chatter, the clinking of glasses—it was all part of the carefully orchestrated chaos that he ruled over. A night at his club was always an experience. But tonight? Tonight was different.

He wasn’t sure why, but something felt off. Maybe it was the way his favorite booth felt a little too empty, or how the usual flow of conversation felt muted as he made his way through the crowd.

Whatever it was, his attention kept drifting back to the dance floor. The crowd was thick, and bodies swirled in time with the beat of the music, but it was one thing in particular that had caught his eye.

You.

Dressed in a tight black dress that shimmered under the lights, your hair pulled back loosely with a few strands falling rebelliously around your face, you were the center of his focus, even in the midst of a hundred other people.

He watched as you danced, carefree, with one of his men—Matteo, to be precise. A guy who had always been loyal to him, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to play the game.

You weren’t looking at Matteo in any way that suggested anything romantic or flirtatious.

But Lando didn’t care.

You were dancing with his man, and that was enough to ignite a slow burn in his chest that made his jaw tighten.

You were supposed to be with him.

Lando didn’t even have to think about it. The second he saw you, a pang of possessiveness hit him so hard it was almost physical.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had brought you to this point—dancing with Matteo. Was it because you wanted to dance? Or was it because you felt uncomfortable, unsure of what else to do? He could see the way you tried to avoid locking eyes with him as you moved in time with the music.

But it didn’t matter.

He was done waiting.

Pushing through the crowd with that signature effortless grace, Lando approached the dance floor. His eyes never left you as he cut through the bodies, his footsteps deliberate, each one louder than the last as he made his way toward you.

He could feel his heart beat a little harder, his patience wearing thin. By the time he was near enough to reach you, Matteo had his hand on your waist, guiding you through the steps of the dance, his body too close to yours for Lando's liking.

Your smile was soft, casual.

But when you noticed Lando standing there, watching, your expression flickered for just a moment, like you’d realized you’d been caught doing something you knew would get a reaction.

It wasn’t that you’d been doing anything inappropriate, far from it. You simply wanted to dance, and it seemed harmless to get on the floor with Matteo when Lando wasn’t around.

But then, you had felt the pull—the magnetic energy that came with knowing Lando was in the room—and there he was, standing just a few feet away.

Matteo noticed Lando at the same time you did. He shot a glance over at him and immediately dropped his hand from your waist, stepping back a little.

It was an instinct, something they all understood in this world.

No one danced with Lando’s woman without his permission.

And if they did? Well, it didn’t always end well.

"Everything okay here?" Lando’s voice was low, smooth, but the underlying edge of jealousy was unmistakable.

He didn’t even try to mask it, not this time. He was pissed off, and it was clear in the way his eyes narrowed at Matteo, then shifted to you.

You could feel the tension rolling off him, so thick it was almost suffocating. The air around you seemed to crackle with his anger, but you weren’t sure if it was directed at Matteo for being too forward, or at you for even allowing it to happen.

“I was just dancing,” you said, your tone light but your lips curling in a small, nervous smile. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

“A big deal?” Lando repeated, his voice dropping an octave lower, now fully focused on you. He wasn’t angry—no, this was something more primal. Something possessive.

His eyes flicked to Matteo, who took a cautious step back. “I’m not sure you understand who you’re dancing with, love.”

You could feel the heat of his gaze, like fire tracing over your skin. The fun of the dance had evaporated as quickly as it had come, and now all you could think about was how Lando’s presence made you feel small.

You’d known better, you knew you had, but somehow you'd let the moment get away from you.

“I just wanted to dance, Lando,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “You weren’t here, and I didn’t want to just stand there like a wallflower.”

Matteo cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable now, as if he wasn’t sure what the appropriate exit strategy was. He glanced nervously between the two of you. “I’ll just—uh, I’ll just leave you two alone.” He was gone before Lando could give him a chance to finish his sentence.

Lando didn’t even acknowledge Matteo’s hasty retreat. His eyes were on you, and now that he was this close, he could smell the faint scent of your perfume, a mix of vanilla and jasmine that always drove him mad.

He stepped forward, closing the space between you two until there was barely a breath between your bodies.

You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the flutter in your chest at his proximity. “Lando—”

He cut you off before you could say another word. “You know, I’ve been really patient with you tonight.” His tone was playful, but his eyes were dark, intense. “But I think you’ve forgotten something very important. You belong to me. Not with my men. Not with anyone else.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. You knew what he meant. It wasn’t about you having fun, or dancing, or wanting to enjoy yourself.

It was about him—about the fact that he was your world, and no one else could take up that space.

Before you could say anything, Lando leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Next time you want to dance, you ask me. Got it?”

A shiver ran down your spine as his words settled in. You nodded quietly, your body reacting to his tone, to the way he took command of the moment without saying another word.

When you looked up at him, Lando’s gaze softened just the slightest, his anger dissipating like smoke.

But the possessiveness?

That stayed.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice low, but with a certain fondness. His hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you being out of his reach.

“Now, let’s get off this dance floor. I think I’ve got better things in mind for us.”

And with that, he led you through the crowd, the jealousy in his eyes already fading, replaced by something much more dangerous:

desire.

Thank you for reading!

P2 where it’s spicy? Idk never written that before so…?