#i can't help it they're all attractive!

[hotdoghottakes]

Apparently part of my sexuality is dragons disguised as humans.

[carbonateddelusion]

old men. You Agree.

[burner141]

First post ☆

Thinking bt retired 141 all settling down in a nice suburban neighborhood. So nice, so peaceful. So different from what they're used to. So boring.

Then they meet you. The charming new neighbor with a pretty voice and an even prettier smile. They crowd around you like a pack of wolves aiming for their next meal. But you're nervous, antsy, and they can't have that, now can they? They back off, some more so than others, and instead, politely offer to help with your boxes.

They're well-behaved from then on. Truly willing to just be good, friendly neighbors. Until you're comfortable enough to let them bite.

Kyle takes the opportunity to bring you home-baked pie that he learned how to make a few nights before - he was always a quick learner. Johnny leaps to show you around town. A little too eager, so you decline, saying you still have some moving in to do. Oh, but he can help with that. Building furniture? A cinch. Mounting the television? Light work. Mowing your lawn? Only if you'll invite him in after for some lunch. Ghost lingers around, but occasionally, he'll tell a joke bad enough for you to giggle at, which makes him more okay, I guess.

John, however, he's biding his time. He doesn't want to throw himself into the fray like an uncouth schoolboy. He knows better than to just attach himself to the newest attraction. You never go on an amusement ride without getting a ticket. So he plans.

You leave your window curtains open as you prance around your newly-furnished home, all thanks to him and his boys. And John's just across the street. He can observe you whenever he pleases. What convenience. He can see you getting ready to go out. To the grocery store, he presumes, considering you haven't been going out much since you moved in two weeks ago.

He follows you from aisle to aisle, just out of your peripheral, a jar of peanut butter in hand so he doesn't look too out of place. As soon as he sees you struggling to reach a product - one of the last on a particularly high shelf - he swiftly positions himself behind you. Just enough for you to feel the heat of him.

"This what you wanted, love?" He grumbles out as he procures your item for you.

As you look up at him with such grateful eyes, he knows he and his boys won't be bored anymore.

[yeyinde]

kinda enamoured with the thought of our poor mc going to a dud of party but meeting Kyle and Johnny there (both looking as out of place as you feel) but instead of taking you home, they bring you back to Price and Ghost. a sweet little treat for them all to share.

and they're charming, of course. too charming. but alcohol numbs most of your inhibitions about how touchy they are. how physical. folding themselves into your space, leaning down to whisper in your ear when you can hear them just fine. hands on the small on your back. around your wrist. your waist. knuckles against your cheek—

god, you're such a pretty little thing, aren't you?

warm skin. breath that smells of thick, sweet cream and oaky black tea. hands curling under the hem of your shirt—shush, shush, doe, ahm jus' helpin' ye; yer hot, ain't ye? lemme help ye out o'yer jumper—thick, sunkissed fingers dancing over your skin.

you feel funny, you slur into his—Kyle, he huffs, grinning wide; wolfish: call me Kyle, sweet thing—neck, chasing the scent of spiced vanilla and wild, ripened plums. everything is spinning. spinning—

"god, he's gonna just love you—"

but they'll take you somewhere. home. you nod, nose tucked tight against his warm, steady pulse. "wanna go home—" you mumble into salt-tinged skin, and they laugh.

"oh, don't worry, beautiful. we'll get you right where you need to be."

you trust them, of course. let them usher you into their car, curled up against a broad, warm chest. lulled under a blanket of security wrapped tight in strong, firm arms. and if his hand wanders, fingers tickling the insides of your thighs. well—

you can't deny they're attractive. maybe you can get their number after and call them in the morning.

but that doesn't happen.

you wake to the sound of voices. hands sliding under your knees, around your shoulder. carried into a house that isn't your own—some strange cabin deep in the forest. the glow of the wood stove in the only light on inside, and you struggle to adjust to the thick orange haze.

"what's going on?" you ask, blinking at the sight that greets your liquid eyes.

Kyle places you down on a rug, holding your hips tight when you fumble. laughing, just a little, under his breath when you gasp.

sitting in an old, wooden chair is a man you've never seen before. big, broad. intimidating. his thick legs spread lazily—one kicked out against the rug, the other bent at the knee. and elbow rests on it. in his hand, a lit cigar. the other dangles, loose and lax, off the armrest. fingers curling, unfurling, into spasmic fists.

his eyes burn caeruleum in the flickering gold.

you fight back a shiver, but feel it slide like hot oil down your spine.

"what—?"

"my boys didn't explain it to you?" he asks, voice a rough, abrasive scratch in your head. gritty. porous. you feel it against your skin. fingers digging into your nape. bad girl. there's something about him that commands attention, and you give it easily as he tuts, pale lips pulling into a condescending sneer beneath the thick of his beard. "or maybe you just weren't payin' attention, sweetheart."

"attention to what—" sir almost trembles out. his lips twitch like he heard all the same. "i just want to go home—"

the hand dangling over the ledge flares to life. he flicks it careless around the room with a hum. "you are home."

"my real home—"

and then you see it.

he moves like liquid through the shadows. folds himself into the dark like its where he belongs. and you thought—and still very much do—the man sitting on his throne was large, intimidating, but it pales at the absurd height of this thing that slinks out of the corner with a heavy, laden gaze. powdered charcoal. endlessly black. flat, though. amused.

when he speaks, it's all brass. "what's this? Johnny brought 'ome a stray?"

"nah," you hear Kyle's grin. feel the phantom shift of sharp teeth against your neck. breathless laugher. warm hands. baby, you feel so good. "we found 'er in a club. lost little lamb."

"and you dragged her back to the wolf's den, mm?"

"you complainin', cap?"

it takes all of your willpower to tear your eyes off the man, but you manage. ripping them away until you find him—Price—again. he stares back with a lidded, heavy gaze. unflinching. hungry.

"not in the slightest."

Kyle purrs. "Johnny couldn't keep his hands off her, sir. might have some competition for who goes first."

cold air on your nape. dread bubbles up in your belly. "no—"

they continue like you hadn't spoken. like you don't exist. the man in the corner folds his thick arms over his broad chest, shaking his head a chainsaw-like grunt. laughter, you think.

but Price doesn't seem to find it nearly as funny. his teeth sink into the butt of the cigar with a growl. "gonna fight me for first, Sargeant?"

Johnny snorts, and rubs his finger under his nose.

"she's sweet," he murmurs, all wide-eyed and feverish. cheeks pinked under the warm spill of orange. "cannae blame a man fer wantin' such a pretty little thing—"

"back of the line," Kyle prods. and you wish his touch made your stomach churn, but that thread of intrigue, alcohol spooled want, still thrums in your veins.

"i just—" you stammer, eyes widening as real, tangible fear sets in. skewers into your belly. heart in your throat. the erratic echoes pounding in your ears. "i just want to go home."

"you are home, birdie—" he speaks and it feels like the walls shake. "didn't get a bright, did you, Johnny?"

"tha's mean, Lt—" his hands snake around your waist, pulling you into his hard chest. "didnae anyone teach ye 'ow tae chirp at birds?" the shorn sides of his Mohawk scratch against your cheek when he nuzzles, kittenish, against your face. "don't listen tae 'im, doe. yer th' sweetest, brightest lit'le thing—"

"mm, and such a bright little girl would know how to behave, wouldn't she?"

even with the alcohol dulling your senses—thoughts scattered and thin as two pairs of hands start pulling at your clothes, stripping you down to nothing—you can still see his words for what it is:

a threat.

as if to reinforce this idea, the man—Ghost, Johnny whines into your burning, stinging cheek, skin chafing from the graze of his buzzed sides: gotta 'ave a taste, Lt—moves, his body spilling out in a dizzying tumble of thick limbs. he stands by the door—the only one—and folds his arms over his chest once more, head cocking to the side as he stares down at you.

"don't worry, Johnny," he rumbles, lids slipping to half cresences over the ink black of his eyes. "i intend to."

the air stills when Price hums. your attention is pulled back to him instantly, but a part of you—all animal—halves it down the middle, keeping Ghost in your sights at all times. turning your back on him feels—

stupid.

you shiver.

Price shifts in the chair, reaching up for the cigar still pinched between his teeth. the look in his eyes is a startling, heavy thing. doom tastes like ash between your teeth.

"an' you're a bright girl, aren't you?"

it's not really a question. you nod anyway, feeling the fight in your body dissolve like wisps of smoke in the dense, thickened air. excitement, desire, hums—an electrical current—in the air, bubbling up between them. they move around you in a way that's dizzingly coordinated—a living, thrumming dance. stigmergy. as your clothes fall, as their hands grab your flesh, pinching and caressing, moaning in your ear about how soft you are, how sweet, one, horrifying thought thickens in the back of your head:

you know, then, that you're not going home.

"oh, sweetheart," Price drawls like he knows what you're thinking. a mocking little coo as he tucks his knuckles under your chin, lifting your head up to meet his burning gaze. there's something in there, you think. something awful. something hungry.

"you already are."

[batbusiness-schooldropout]

DP x DC

So I have an idea. After high school, Danny goes around helping ghosts either move on or get to the Ghost Zone. Helping them get whatever they need in order to leave Earth one way or the other.

When he goes to Gotham, he finds a slew of ghosts, going back to the city's founding, that died young and just want one more party, one more dance, or to experience how the nightlife has changed since they died.

No problem. Vlad can foot the bill for some of the condemned buildings, Danny can fix them so they'll stay up for at least one night, and everyone can have the rager to end all ragers. Music from across the ages. Entire floors, dedicated to a specific kind of dance. The best music system currently on the market.

Then, he comes across a bunch of ghosts that want to experience the high life just once. Like in the good old days when you could literally throw money at people and be treated like a king instead of attacked by your rivals. Where booze flowed more freely than the river, and if you wanted to experience a vice, you could.

Bit harder. That'll take more time and possibly more run-ins with the law, but there's no reason it couldn't be done at the same time as the other party. And it'll help the ghosts that just want to pull off the perfect heist.

This all ends up attracting the fight club crowd. Underground fighting has been a Gotham City tradition since before the city was called Gotham. Legend says that the first public works built were a fighting ring and a hospital. A ton of ghosts just want to win one more fight. They can't possibly move on if they're losers.

Now we're getting somewhere! There's a huge cave system under Gotham with no bystanders! Just try to stay intangible around cavewalls and stay west of Bristol, and the Really Underground Fight Club can get as wild as you want!

Now imagine as many Batfam and/or Justice League members as you want trying to deal with what is essentially an out of control, supernatural block party

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Coffee Crossfire: Part 2

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You own a cafe in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes’ territory. You occasionally let him hold meetings in the cafe after hours and things usually go well….but not this time.

Part 1

Your anger and frustration towards Bucky fizzled out after two days. You knew that it really wasn't his fault the cafe got shot up. He told you firsthand when you bought the property of the risks of having a business in his territory. But he always reassured you that whatever damage happens, he'd take care of it.

Like a true mob boss, he kept his word.

Even with his busy schedule, he came in every day to help oversee the work that was being done. He wasn't much help though. You'd tell his men what to do, what goes where, how things should look, etc. He just pays for everything.

However, when some of the new tables and chairs came in, you put Bucky to work.

While everyone was working in the front, you and Bucky assembled the furniture towards the back of the cafe. Bucky looked at the instructions and let out a breath of relief, "Thank god these have written out instructions. Not like other instructions where it's all pictures. Shit gets confusing."

You snicker as you lay out the pieces by their labelled sticker, "Honestly, these shouldn't be too hard to do. They're similar to the ones I had before."

"Ready when you are, boss," Bucky says with a smile.

You snort, "Never thought I'd hear you call anyone else 'boss'."

He shrugs, "You're the only one I'll listen to, sugar," he gives you a wink and you look away as your cheeks start to heat up.

You can't deny that Bucky is attractive, funny, and charming. He's also sweet and intimidating, but also caring. Sure what he does isn't lawful in any means, however, he cares for everyone in his family's territory. He knows everyone by name, helps them when they ask, and make sure everyone's protected and safe.

You told yourself when you first met him not get close to him, but years later, you know you're more than close to Bucky. You two are attached to the hip. At first, you considered him as a friend, but in the most recent years, you've started to see him as more. That scares you a little.

You moved to Brooklyn to get away from those feelings and here you are, right back to where you were. All because of Bucky Barnes.

You love him. You know you truly do, you're just not sure if he feels the same. Sure he flirts with you, but he doesn't mean it. You've seen him flirt with a bunch of other people too, so it definitely doesn't mean anything when he flirts with you.

"Sugar, gimme a hand?" he breaks you from your thoughts.

"Sure," you move closer to him, "What do you need?"

"Just hold these two pieces together while I screw this in."

"M'kay," you hold to pieces of a chair together, and Bucky twists the screwdriver to secure them in place. Your face is close to his, you smell the coffee on his breath and his expensive cologne. You see the bags under his eyes and it makes you frown.

"There. Than-what's with the frown?"

"You haven't been sleeping well," when he looks at you confused, you point to his face, "the bags under your eyes. Bucky, you should be at home resting, not spending early mornings with me here."

"It's fine, sugar."

"No, it's not. You should be well rested because you have a lot of work to do-"

"And they're getting done, just not all by me. Things are getting handled, Y/N, don't worry. I wanna be here."

"Why? Nothing much for you to do here. Your guys have it covered."

He shrugs, "Just in case you need me or," he gestures to the furniture pieces, "need someone to help you build furniture." He smiles when you giggle. His heart flutters, "I'll be here every day until you tell me to fuck off."

"But why?" you genuinely ask him in curiosity.

He looks away from you and at the half-assembled chair in front of him, "Because I do what I can for the people I love." He then clears his throat and goes back to assembling the chair.

You stare at him in disbelief. He loves you. Bucky Barnes just said he loves you. He-

Bucky's phone starts ringing and he answers it. He hugs it between his ear and his shoulder as he screws in another piece of the chair, "Yeah?" He listens to the caller and lets out a long sigh, "Alright. I'll be over in a bit. Keep 'em awake. Bye."

You look at him with concern, "Everything okay?"

"Got more info on the guys who shot us up. Need to meet with Romanoff." Bucky grunts as he stands, pocketing his phone. His runs a hand through his brunette locks, "If you're still here when I'm done, I'll come back. Maybe I can get you some food since I know you don't eat when you get too busy."

You stand, meeting his gaze, a soft smile on your lips. Bucky knows you so well and you can't believe its taken you this long to see how he truly feels.

"Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. He's frozen in place and by the time he registers what's happening, you pull away, "I love you. Thank you for always taking care of me and being there for me."

"I, uh-" his face starts turning pink, "Ye-Yeah. Of course, sugar. I-shit." He hides his face in his hands and you can't help but laugh. You've turned The White Wolf of Brooklyn into blubbering, blushing mess.

He drops his hands from his face and he's smiling wide, "You love me? Really?"

"I do. I've loved you for a long time. I-I always hoped you felt the same. I thought you did with the flirting and how you were always there for me. But I'd see you do the same with others so I figured-"

He shakes his head, "No, sugar. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was so confusing. I-shit, Y/N, everything I do and say is because I love you. I love you so fucking much. I'd burn the world for you," he steps closer, placing his hands on your hips, nose grazing yours.

"For a big scary mobster, you're quite the softie, aren't you?"

"Don't let the guys know. It'd ruin my reputation," he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.

"It's fine. We already know," Steve says as he stands there with his arms across his chest and a smirk on his face.

Bucky frowns, "Way to ruin the mood, Rogers."

Steve shrugs, "Sorry, but we have some important stuff to attend to."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Bucky steps away with a pout, "Sugar-"

You pull him back in for a kiss and he's quick to kiss you back this time. You then break the kiss with a grin, "Go take care of business, boss."

Bucky is a little dizzy and has a goofy grin on his face, "You got it, boss." He pecks your lips one last time and then steps away, "Got another reason to call you sugar now."

"Yeah?"

He nods, "'Cause your lips taste so sweet," he says with a wink and follows Steve out of the cafe.

You're not sure how you can get back to work after that kiss and confession. But you'll have to do your best!

[jyoongim]

THE WAY U WRITE THE OLD RED DEMON MAN IS JUST SO NEKEKDKEOWB

Might I just add onto the seemingly continuous alastor requests. I'd love to see Alastor x Reader where reader is in heat and Al finds it pathetic but takes pity on them and helps anyway bc like poor thing can't even get their own instincts in control they're obviously hopeless

warnings: 18+!!!NSFW

You thought when you died you would be rid of hormones.

Periods were a pain while living, but this is was worst.

When you were alive, your periods plagued you with mood swings, random cravings, and pain.

Now that you were dead, you didn’t experience the dreadful red flood and raging mood swings; no. Now all you felt was unbelievably horny and needy.

And you hated it.

You usually carried yourself with confidence and elegance.

You usually liked to help around the hotel and were generally friendly with everyone.

You grimaced as you woke up to feel just how drenched your panties were. I really need to stock up on new underwear you thought as you tossed the ruined panties into the hamper.

You usually spent your heats alone and could hide in a hole until you felt normal again. You usually could control yourself well enough til you had enough free time to ease the tension between your legs.

Or until you found a poor sinner.

Weeeeellll that was hard when you lived in a hotel with a ton of shit to do. You really didn’t want to hear Angel’s jabs as you dragged some unfortunate soul to endear your sex rage.

You sighed, hopefully you could get through the next few days without embarrassing yourself completely.

So far so good you thought as you went about your day doing whatever activity Charlie had you do with the group.

Every touch and scent didn’t send your cunt into a tingling frenzy; yes you had to change your panties a few times but nothing crazy.

That was until you were around Alastor.

Your body practically buzzed whenever the tall red demon was in your vicinity.

You first chalked it up to that it was because you did found him attractive and simply thought it would go away.

But your cunt begged a differ.

You squirmed a bit on the couch as Alastor took a seat beside you, clenching your thighs to ease the uncomfortable throbbing.

It didn’t help that he smelled amazing.

Alastor smelled like evergreens how y’all ever smelled Christmas pine??? That shit is delicious!!!!

And you didn’t realized you had took a deep inhale of him until he turned to you

”Is everything alright my dear?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

fuck how were you going to tell him you wanted to bury your nose into his neck and just SNIFF? 

“O-oh I’m f-fine…i-its just you smelled nice?” You wanted to facepalm.

He blinked at you before letting out a laugh “OOooh why thank you my dear” that shit eating grin widened, voice dropping a slight octave“I must smell very enticing if you’re sniffing at me” his eyes narrowed slightly.

A shiver ran through your body and you swear you were leaking through onto the couch. You wanted to die of embarrassment.

“I-I just never noticed before that’s all” You said shrugging, trying to ignore the fact that his very voice was affecting you.

Charlie had ended whatever the hell you were doing and you quickly made your way to your room, causing some confusion.

You were usually a social butterfly with the gang. You never not chat away with Angel as he told the wild shit he did on set.

“Has got to be that time of the month” Angel commented as you almost sprinted out the room. Charlie and Vaggie gave confused looks ”what?” He sighed “You know…” nope not a clue.

”She was a human remember? Every so often her pussy basically shreds itself to bits”

Charlie gasped “So she’s hurt? Shouldn’t we do something?” Angel laughed,shaking his head “Nah we can’t help. But she'll be fine. Just give her a few days and she'll be normal again”

Alastor was in the background listening, the smile on his face sharpened, you weren’t hurt or bleeding, but there was definitely something that could be done.

You snarled as your vibrator died and tossed it. You groaned as your clit continued to throb. You had thought four orgasms would have did the trick but nope you still had the irritating itch.

You didn’t own a dildo because it was pointless.

it wasn’t the real thing.

You wanted to cry. This was your first heat while you’ve been at the hotel and you didn’t just want to drag a stranger here.

You had more control than that.

At least that’s what you thought.

You had locked yourself in your room as you tore your room to bits. The walls were shredded, pillows and sheets drenched in slick and your poor toy was in pieces.

Panting, you curled in a corner and tugged at your hair, squeezing your eyes tight as tears began to pool in your eyes.

You hated this.

 You hated how it felt like you didn’t even feel like yourself. 

Hated that you couldn’t even control your own damn bodily function.

Hated how your body desperately wanted to be filled.

You would give anything to make this horrid feat of yours go away.

“I would have never thought to see you in such a state my dear”

You froze at the voice and jerked your head to the source.

Alastor.

He was standing at the entrance of your bedroom, a smirk on his face as he took in the state of your room.

”I must say, it. Is rather entertaining to see your lack of control” he said as he approached your curled form.

He crouched down, feigning a concerned look before a clawed hand seized your hair and wrenched your face til your noses were bumping against each other.

”did you think I couldn’t smell you?” He growled “You smell just like a bitch in heat”

You whimpered as his lips ghosted over yours “I-I’m sorry”

His scent was surrounding you. It was a drug. Assaulting your every nerve with each breath you took.

He smelled so good 

please

”Please” you whispered as your cunt buzzed, tingling from his clos proximity and in hopes he would have mercy on you.

Alastor sucked his teeth at you. What a pitiful thing you were…

With a deep breathe, he stood and walked over to your ruined bed and sat. You watched as he sat his mic down and removed his coat. Yanking at his tie, he unbuttoned his shirt and looked over at you with narrowed eyes “Well? Do you want to continue to ruin your furnishings or do you wish to satisfy that brazen desire of yours?”

He widened his legs and your eyes honed in on how he unbuckled his pants.

Your throat tightened and you found yourself crawling over to him, no regard that you were naked.

Kneeling between his legs, your hands soothed up his thighs as your rubbed your head against his crotch.

Alastor lifted your chin for your eyes to meet his. Your eyes were blown out and you winced as his grip tightened.

”I pity you my dear, reduced to wanton whore, but don’t fret…Ill help you through your heat” a thumb ran over your pouty lip.

Your cunt clenched around nothing at his words.

You damn near drooled as he adjusted himself to pull his cock free from its restraints.

It was big, in both length and girth. It slapped against your face, causing you to hum at the weight of it.

You nuzzled it, nose gliding along his length before softly pressing kissed along it. When you came to his mushroom tip, you didn’t hesitate to suck at it. Alastor sighed as you gave the head of his cock kitten licks.

Head clouded with desire, you slowly bobbed your head along his length, taking him whole as you gagged once you reached the hilt.

You eased him out your throat and with a sickening pop, you admired as his spit-covered cock shined. You opted to jerk him off slowly as you buried your nose in his ball, inhaling his scent.

Alastor’s hand found your hair and guided you away from his cock, bringing you to climb up his body, until your smoldering heat was rubbing against his cock as he pressed kisses to your shoulder and neck. A gasp tore from your throat as he nipped at your jaw.

”On fours my dear”

Clumsily, you scrambled to follow his instruction. You must not have been to his liking because he pressed your head til your cheek was flat to the bed, back in a deep low arch, thighs pressed to your stomach and spreaded wide with your ass and cunt exposed to the air. 

You would have blushed in embarrassment if you weren’t so turned on.

A hand glided down your back, causing you to shiver and then jolt as a harsh slap was planted on your ass, before it soothed over the burning cheek.

Alastor kneaded your ass before sliding his fingers down to your cunt.

Your slit was swollen and your clit, puffy with need. 

You were dripping.

He dipped a finger inside you, testing how wet you were.

Soppy. 

He added a second, your cunt greedily welcomed his fingers with ease, giving into resistance.

He chuckled “What a greedy cunt, sucking in my fingers like a cock”

You whined when he took his fingers out, already missing the feel of something inside you.

Alastor took his cock and rubbed it against your cunt, coating himself in your slick.

”I am going to fuck you to your little sinful heart desires and you are going to be grateful of everything I give you. You are going to take every bit of my cum until it spills from this cunt and then again and again until I have bred you so thoroughly. Do you understand slut?”

You were breathing heavily, trembling in excitement.

With a single, sharp thrust he filled your cunt, earning a soft cry from you.

”Do you understand?”he hissed through clenched teeth.

”Y-Yes A-Alastor”. you whimpered, eyes clenched shut in pleasure.

”Good girl”

He drew back and thrusted into you again

And again

And again

He had set a slow, but rough pace. Thrusting his cock deep into the soft warmth of your cunt with each drag.

Soft moans filled the air as he buried his cock inside you.

It felt so good. 

He reached depths your finger couldn’t quite reach.

And it was amazing.

”A-Ala-stor Aah! Aaah! Hah!” You pushed your hips against his, mewling loudly as he grinned his cock into you.

”Youre pathetic ” He laughed, eyes watching his cock disappeared inside you, giving you a hard thrust at his words.

”Nothing but pathetic slut who can’t control their own body”

His grip on your hips pulled you flushed against him, making you take him til his balls was nestled against your slit.

”You probably would have spreaded your legs for any poor sinner, just wanting to be fucked dumb” Your body rippled as his thrusts got harder.

Your cunt only got wetter.

He noticed as he seemed to sink even deeper into you, as if your cunt loosened to welcome him

”oh? I bet you would have liked that wouldn’t you? So out of sorts with need that you would have just anyone bred this cunt”

He growled at the squelching noises from your cunt, you shook your head in denial.

No. No you wouldn’t haven’t done something like that.

”N-no I-I wouldn’t-” You cried out as his finger ghosted over your swollen clit.

”You would have been happy to bend over and offer your cunt to anyone, as long as you had a cock fill you” Alastor continued before a cruel, deep laugh erupted from him

”But instead you sought me out. I had no intention in satisfying you, but what a gentleman would i had been if I ignored a lady in need?” You felt him lean over, hips never missing a beat as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder.

”Oooh how fortunate you are my dear”

You were suddenly flipped onto your back. Hair sprawled around you like a halo, your chest heaving as he pushed your knees to your chin. 

Your lidded eyes watching as he slide his cock between your pussy lips, bumping your clit. He grabbed your wrists, using them as leverage as he thrusted back into you, the new angle making your throw your head back with a broken cry

”FuuuuuUccckk Ah Ah AH!” His hips dug into the underside of your ass as he pounded your cunt.

Alastor hadn’t lost composure the entire time he fucked you.

He watched as you fell apart, your hips wiggling to accommodate to his harsh administrations.

Your cunt took him so good. A white, creamy ring formed at his base as he scraped against that sponges nerve inside you.

You welcomed him gratefully. Letting him wrench pleasurable sounds from your pretty lips.

Pushing your raised legs apart, he lowered his weight on you as he slammed his lips on yours, swallowing your moans. Your tongues danced as he rocked into your body.

The sounds of him ruining your cunt pushed him to fulfill your primal desire.

You felt that familiar blaze of heat take over your body as Alastor fucked short rapid thrusts into you.

Every brush of his abdomen against your clit had your cunt going haywire.

You were going to cum.

Alastor was going to make you cum.

You moaned at the thought

You were gonna cum on his cock

And he was gonna breed you

Breed your soppy cunt

and you were going to let him

”please….” You whined into his mouth

Fuck the very thought had your body buzzing.

”please what?” he purred

Your head was reeling, foggy with the need to be filled.

A hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing

“What are you begging me for slut? Hmm?” His strokes were hitting harder and deeper.

”You want me to breed your cunt? You want to me to fill you up so good that all you’ll ever think is how my cum belongs inside you? What do the little slut want?”

Yes you wanted all of it.

You wanted him to fuck you so good, you wouldn’t even think of wanting another cock from his.

You wanted him to fill your cunt to the brim and then fuck it back inside.

You wanted him to breed you like the little slut you were.

To breed you til he had his fill.

Your instincts had practically took over, fuck sanity.

”Mhmm! I want it. I want you to Ah! I want you to fill me with your cum! Please please breed me Alastor” You whined, feeling your belly clench as your orgasm hung over you, promising sweet relief.

The hand around your throat, tightened causing you to gasp as he spoke into your ear, voice deep and purring

”Youre gonna make yourself cum on my cock slut”

your hand flew to your clit to flick fast circles on the bud.

Alastor’s thrusts quickened, growls pouring from his lips

”Who’s a filthy little slut?”

”M-Me”

”Whos a pathetic slut that’s gonna take my cum?”

”Me!”

”Fucking slut gonna let be breed her dumb”

A sob tore from you as your orgasm washed over you, he fucked you as you milked him, hips angled to thrusts so deep you’re sure your cunt had molded into the shape of his cock

”hah hah aaah fuuucckk fuck fuck Al-Alastor!”

You saw white as your mouth opened in a silent scream only for him to swallow the whine in your throat.

”That’s it you pathetic slut take it. Take my cum. That’s a good girl. Let me breed this sweet cunt cher” your hips raised as he sunk into you and with a deep groan, he cummed into your spasming cunt, making sure to thrust deep enough he hit your cervix as he painted your walls white.

Whether conscious or by instinct, you gave him a ditzy smile, eyes glazed over as you slowly rubbed your clit, whimpering. Holding eye contact with him, a soft pout graced your lips

“Again”

You truly were a pathetic, needy little thing.

But don’t worry pretty Doe, Alastor’s going to make sure you

satisfied and stuffed to your heart’s content

 It was going to be very interesting for the next 36 hours…

@markster666 @alastorsfawn @senseichaos @alastoralltruist @dasimp777 @imgonnadielaughing-blog @thewinchestah @strawberrypimp666 @tpks @stygianoir @polytheatrix @prosciuttosblog @angelltheninth @peachedtv @yourdoorisunlocked @kiralaufeyson84

[tarotbyjam24]

What do they find sexy about you ? 18+ mdni

Pick a piles \masterlist

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️ Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

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Pile 1

read by @winisayswhat 🫶🏻

Dayum gworl , you're so self aware lmaaooooo, it's giving IAM SEXY AND I KNOW IT SONG VIBE , This is the pile that host a private victorias secret ramp walk for themselves every night loll! You might wear some really sexy lingerie , decked uo with greatttt hair ! I see lots of libido from both the sides , you like being worshipped damn , you might wear some really good perfume . Your future spouse just wants to merge his body with yours cause you look so damn alluring , you are giving 'Queen of heaven " vibes , the might go gaga over your melons and cherries , they will suck them like a ripe fruit , it'll be like a baby sucking desperately in their mums buds ! You are the prize gosh you're SO SEXY ! Some bondage or blindfold might be involved , you guyssss loveeeeeee foreplay ! Your spouse will never get enough of you, you somehow always manage to make their buddy erect , also omg your man will grunt and moan alot as you do the deed , they'll grip your dips tightly while leaving love bites and marks all over you, you'll whimper under their touch ! I see you having many orgasms , and the look you have while having orgasms turns on your man for a second round ! Your man will know how to do foreplay and turn you on, the type of man who'll worship the ground you walk on ! There might also be oral sex involved , your man might also be mighty bulky with beard , and you're a damsel in distress with a small frame compared to them ! Some kind of kink there ahhahaah!

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Pile 2

read by @winisayswhat 🫶🏻

I'm seeing a DEEP attraction between you and your future spouse. They're like sooo drawn to your SPONTANEOUS nature, your ability to light up the room with your presence and aura. Your warmth and energy are like a MAGNET, pulling them in and making them feel alive.You might be a virgin or atleats less experienced than them ! It's giving *i am gonna be your first and last one *They loveeee your personality, they look at you like a baby with sparkly personality that's got them hooked. They're als attracted to your INTELLIGENCE, your creativity, and your passions. They admire your strength, your resilience, and your leadership qualities. You're a TRUE BOSS, and they can't get enough of that.And let's talk about the chemistry between you two. It's like the universe itself is conspiring to bring you together. They feel a deep sense of trululu lmao and destiny when they're with you, like they've finally found their missing piece.Theyre gonna to be the one to initiate the deed , the type of guy who might like the thrill of teasing a girl who isn't often teased , you might get shy or freeze when they initiate proximity, they might like the view from behind 😉, when you bend or are doing house chores . If you're a working woman, you being focused and ignorant will piss them off! They'll do anything and everything to gain your attention. You might have a greatttttttt cleavage and lips, your eyes maybe very doe types , like an invitation for your spouse to *ahem ahem *. They love it when you're unaware about how hot you look ! It's like you're not being braggy about it . They'll like to hold and grab your waist time to time , in bed they live when you ride them, they're gonna be so intense ,gosh don't get me started , you get them possessed during the deed , your body and eyes make them go gaga , they love it when they make you loose control . The way your lips part , the shivers during orgasm , your eyebrows cocked, eyes half closed rolling back wanting to stop yet asking for more ! Gosh it's like badboy x innocent girl trope !

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Pile 3

Pile 3 : they find your silhouette sexy . They like your named body specially in the night light or like fairy lights . They find it sexy when you do some chores or work in body hugging tight dresses or suits . They may also find your love handles sexy like their hands will perfectly fit on your love handles. They find your open hairs sexy . They may also find you sexy when you act like hard to catch bird or when you get mad at them they gonna find it sexy . They gonna find it sexy when your cum flows out or just when your salivas mix with eachothers . They ofcourse gonna find sexual connection find you super attractive . They may also find it sexy when you let the intimacy build between eachother . They may also find sext when you let them dominate probably they have capricorn placements. Also this connection isn't just physical sexual intimacy it's far more stronger than that a soul level deep connection guided by divine.

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Pile 4

Pile 4 : I feel they find your curves sexy like the way you sit on couch the pillow position that makes you comfortable in while sitting. They may like to notice small details about you . They over all find your physical beauty sexy your hairs , your lips and lipstick on it , your eyes , your eyelashes. They're so in love with your beauty . They also find your dressing sense sexy . Like how your body fits perfect in the dresses you wear and how they make your curves highlight. They find your introvertness sexy . They find it sexy when you speak less and act like a old monk . They find it sexy when you act like old soul. You could be probably a old school typa lover or they could be like that too . They find it sexy when you give them advices on their important matters . They like to add your 2 cents too . They may also find it sexy when you're all covered up in those furry hooded dresses or like bear dresses thingy . They also find your dense nature sexy . They may also find it sexy when you get cold like it's their chance to make love or just cuddle with you .

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I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day🌸🐰

Loads of love , jam\gem🩷

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

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[taeyongdoyoung]

chase and attract

summary: your best friend decides to fulfil yet another one of your freaky shared fantasies... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: cnc/primal play, chasing in a forest, public indecency but there are no witnesses, fingering, finger-sucking, doggystyle, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, reader wants to use the safeword but doesn't, reader experiences subdrop, insecurities, crying, aftercare, pet names, the word daddy is mentioned but after they're done having sex, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: hello hello, this is the second part of my wolf & bunny series, i think i'll write one more to tie up the loose ends 🤍 part one & part three word count: 1.7k

After a number of discussions and precautions, you and Chan are finally ready to embark on your next sexscapade. He's reassured you multiple times that he knows the forest well enough that you won't get lost and as a safety measure, he brought a compass and his phone. You purposefully leave yours in his car to further heighten the feeling of danger you two had in mind.

“Are you ready?” Chan asks you gently.

“Kinda. I'm really nervous, Chris,” you confess, your hands shaking in your lap as you are still sitting in the passenger seat.

“Remember that you can stop this at any moment, right?” he reminds you sweetly.

“I know that,” you sigh. “But I want this, I really do.”

“Okay, then, there's nothing to be nervous about. You know I'll keep you safe. Always, yeah?”

You nod, trusting him completely, despite how insane this whole thing might sound to a stranger. You are fully aware that Chan has your best interest at heart.

“I'll give you a five-minute headstart this time,” he sets the timer on his phone. “Ready, set...go!”

You dash out of his car faster than ever and speed through the forest. You've got this. Last time your stupid legs gave out due to being in a box for too long but now you've trained for this moment for a week and you feel confident enough that you'll have a blast. Sure, you know that the point of this game is for Chan to eventually catch you. And boy, do you look forward to that moment. But the more you run, the more your heart will jump out, the more thrilled you feel.

You begin to lose track of time as you go deeper and deeper into the forest. Have five minutes already passed? You don't hear Chan's footsteps so either he hasn't started chasing you yet or he's going in another direction. Whatever the explanation, you keep running even though you're beginning to lose your breath. How much longer? You still don't hear him and you are in desperate need of a break. You should have brought a bottle of water. But carrying something like that would only slow you down. You're thinking too much again. You just want him to catch you already and fuck you until you can no longer think. Truly the best feeling in the world.

Finally, you hear leaves rustling. You don't hear his voice but you know he's getting near. Shit, what if it's someone else? No, that can't be it. Chan made sure that people rarely walk this path and it would only be the two of you. Still, you're terrified at the thought of someone other than Chan catching you. The mere suggestion of that is enough to send speed to your muscles and make you faster.

But all good things must come to an end (or maybe the good things are just about to begin...) and you are engulfed by a pair of strong arms. Before you can react or try to fight your attacker off, he's pressing his hand against your mouth.

“Shhh, don't scream,” Chan's voice is both a comfort and a threat, sending mixed signals to your core.

“Mmpf,” you struggle to make some kind of noise but it comes out muffled against his rough hand.

“This will all be easier if you don’t fight it,” Chan says soothingly and you shake your head in disagreement.

He momentarily removes his hand from your lip.

“Please, somebody help me!” you scream loud enough to paint the scene more vividly but not loud enough to actually attract attention in case a stranger passes by some forest. Which honestly seems impossible at this point. Chan really picked a very secluded trail.

“No one’s gonna hear you, sweetheart. And even if they did, do you think they’d help you? Silly little bun, you brought this on yourself walking in the forest all alone, wearing this dress…”

Fuck, why is he so good at this? You try not to wonder if he’s had prior experience with such a scenario or he simply just has great imagination to come up with such lines.

“Please, don’t do this,” you pretend to be afraid as your best friend pushes you on your knees and situates himself behind you. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Why not? I’ll fuck you so good you’ll want to brag about it,” Chan chuckles coldly and sticks his thick fingers inside your pussy unexpectedly.

“Nnghh,” you cry out and are beginning to lose energy of all the running and no longer feel like faking it, letting out moans and whimpers of pleasure.

“See? You’re all wet for me, so obviously you’re enjoying it,” Chan gathers the evidence of your satisfaction with his fingers and pushes them into your mouth.

You don’t need an order to know what to do as you lick them clean of your arousal.

“Fuuuck, good girl,” Chan praises you and briefly breaks character, stroking your hair gently.

Oh, shit. You think you’re falling for your best friend. But such thoughts will only bring complications, especially in the current context, so you push them down as much as you can.

Chan makes sure you’re wet enough by mercilessly stroking your pussy and finally, fuck, sweet finally, enters you from behind with his cock.

“N-no, d-don’t do this,” you scream and try to escape his strong grasp but of course, it’s no use.

“Such a useless slut, only good for fucking and nothing more.”

The degrading words sting but you’re trying not to dwell on it too much.

“So fucking wet for a stranger. Disgusting,” he says.

Fuck, this hurts. Not the cock stretching you out to the fullest but what he’s saying. Is it really true?

You want to say the safeword. But you also don’t. By the time you make up your mind, Chan has already painted your walls white and you are also coming with a shudder, loudly and devastatingly.

You feel broken. Bad broken. You want to go home and cry and sleep and eat ice cream. What went wrong? You were having such a great time. So why are you suddenly having such dark thoughts? And not dark in the sexy way…

Chan picks you up gently and checks up on you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just want to go home,” you respond briefly.

He nods, quietly wondering if he did something wrong or if he’s just imagining the sad, empty look in your pretty eyes.

Chan helps you walk back to his car and makes sure you drink water and cleans you up to the best of his abilities with some tissues he prepared in advance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again as he parks the car in front of you place. “You haven’t said a word during the whole ride. Usually you have funny stories to share and…”

“Gee, sorry for not always being the class clown, I guess,” you snap at him angrily with an eyeroll.

“Okay, don’t give me that attitude,” Chan scolds you gently but firmly. “If we want to do this healthily, you gotta communicate with me. If I did something wrong or if you felt uncomfortable at any point.”

You shake your head, still in denial.

“If you don’t wanna talk, I won’t force you. But you gotta remember that you mean the world to me, yeah? Even if these games end, I need to have my best friend in my life, am I clear?”

You blink and finally gather the courage to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” you admit and burst into tears.

He pulls you into a hug and pats your back.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Well, the truth is I wasn’t all that into it when you said that thing about me being useless, only good for fucking and disgusting,” you confess.

“Oh, babygirl, you know I don’t mean these things. I only said them ‘cause you mentioned you’re into degradation.”

“I was, I mean, I am, but for some reason, it really hurt me this time, sorry. I should have said. I just don’t want you to think poorly of me.”

“Alright, first of all, stop saying sorry, it’s completely normal to get caught up in it and feel insecure sometimes. As a dom, I should have been more careful and checked up on you more frequently. And second of all, please, remember that you are very smart, sweet, funny and not to mention incredibly beautiful so there is no way in hell I think lowly of you. Now, did you put that down in your pretty brain of yours?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer enthusiastically and your tears have dried up, instead a bright smile appears on your face. “Thanks for saying that. I guess I really needed to hear it.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Just next time if you happen feel like that, say the safeword and talk to me. About anything, I mean it.”

“You too, Chris. I know that’s particularly hard for you to open up but whatever you tell me, I would never judge you.”

“I know, babygirl,” Chan chuckles softly and does something that further confuses the already blurred lines of your friendship. He kisses you on the lips, deeply and sweetly. Not like how you kiss your best friend but how you kiss a lover.

“Do you want…to come inside?” you offer, not knowing what exactly, considering you just ended a very overwhelming scene.

Actually, you know what you want. You want him to hold you, to watch a dumb movie and eat popcorn together. You want…more than you can have.

“I gotta get some work done,” Chan says with a wince. “I’m really behind on stuff.”

“Is it…my fault?”

“No way. I just can’t stop thinking of…our games even when I’m supposed to be working,” he admits.

Phew. You’re glad he didn’t say he can’t stop thinking of you. If he had, you wouldn’t be able to let him go to work.

“Right. Same here,” you reply dumbly.

“If you need anything and I mean, anything, just give me a call or a text. I’ll keep my phone nearby.”

“You really shouldn’t, I’ll keep annoying you,” you mumble self-consciously.

Chan grips your hand and squeezes it comfortingly.

“You could never annoy me, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” you say it playfully, eliciting a giggle out of his beautiful mouth.

“Do you have any particular wishes for…you know, next time?”

“I do, but it’s kinda mild compared to what we’ve done already,” you shrug. “Dunno if you’d be into it.”

“Name it and it’s yours,” Chan assures you.

“How do you feel about…fucking me while I’m asleep?”

To be continued…

[senseofnewness]

crushing!art donaldson because i need that boy to be desperate since childhood [nsfw]

• you guys have known each other since you were 7 or 8, growing up in the same circle, at first, he thought you were annoying as fuck

• only sees you during summer because you go to an all-girls catholic boarding school

• doesn't know how to deal with the fact that you grow more mature and prettier each year, so he resorts to tugging on your ponytail, pinching your waist, and teasing you with silly nicknames

• notices your hips getting wider and your chest growing fuller when you're 13, and he can't help but let his eyes linger a little too long when you aren't looking

• starts being more gentle when you play rough-and-tumble, one time, you even feel him growing hard beneath you, you never wrestled again after that

• introduces you to the infamous patrick one summer and it's the first time you understand why your dad tells you to be cautious of boys, so you stick to art, you feel safe with him

• forces patrick to invite you to his summer house after that, telling him you're like family, patrick thinks you're just getting in the way of precious boy-time with his best friend

• brings you to the beach to buy you ice cream as soon as patrick takes a nap, when you ask why patrick is missing, he tells you he's lactose intolerant and can't eat that

• tries to teach you about tennis but the shorts you're wearing makes it hard for him to form coherent sentences, he spends the whole time readjusting his own shorts

• gets mad that you always associates him with patrick, even if it makes sense since they're always glued to the hips

• his grandma thinks you're dating and calls you his girlfriend, he never bothered correcting her

• helped you get rid of the sand on the back of your thighs once and still thinks about the feeling of your skin underneath his fingers on a daily basis

• the first time he stroked himself thinking about you was after another day at the beach when he saw you mindlessly tugging at the crotch of your bikini bottom that kept riding up your crack

• was turned on by you long before that but had never admitted to himself that he was attracted to you and allowed himself to think about you in his most private moments

• caught you changing into your swimsuit once and turned bright red, it was so quick before you covered yourself and whined at him that he had barely seen anything but knowing that he saw you naked got him heavy breathing

• thinks of you as a prude innocent thing that needs to be shielded from the perversion of the world and keeps telling patrick to shut up when he starts saying innapropriate things in front of you

• gets obsessed with the idea of kissing you ever since you told him you wear flavoured lip glosses

• when he finally tells patrick about his crush, patrick is constantly on your back bragging about what a good guy art is and trying to question your feelings about him, but from art's point of view, it looks like patrick is monopolizing your time and he gets pissed about it

• gets in a big fight about it with patrick, after that patrick seems more distant with you

• finally kisses you in the ferris wheel at the funfair during the summer of your 17, he had planned that moment for days because he wanted your first kiss to be romantic

• changes his mind about you being prude and innocent when you're sucking on his tongue minutes later, you both spend the rest of the night making out on the beach

• when he tells patrick, he's all giddy until patrick reminds him how frustrating it's going to be for him to date a virgin who is saving herself for marriage

• starts officially dating you and when the making out gets too intense, he assures you he respects your choice to wait and he won't pressure you into doing anything

• you spent the whole summer after that just constantly dry humping each other, both soaked, always coming close to breaking the promise you had made to god

• gets so frustrated while making out that he asks for your hand in marriage while his is up your shirt, you laugh at him but maybe he was a little serious about it

• thinks about all the ways he could convince you to let him just slide the tip in for a second, just to feel you, but he won't

• the summer ends with you still a virgin, you did jerk him off though, a lot, like in every room and at any moment of the day, patrick even urged you to 'just do it already' the third time he caught you with your hand down art's pants

• pays for your train tickets home the first weekend back to school because he misses you so much already

• when you show him that after a long introspection you decided to stop wearing your purity ring, he already knows you're going to spend the whole weekend in bed

[sharklovingaquarist]

Do the majority of leftists not realize that white women are.... still women???? Like I just saw someone ask if white women are scrutinized for being single mothers? Like I thought that was common knowledge. The hatred of single mothers is literally grounded in misogyny. And last time I checked, white women are women. Yall have downplayed misogyny so much that you think it's only valid in the case of race or "gender". The left is so unserious about feminism. They'll see a middle class white woman and say she's as privileged as a white man, completely glossing over how absolutely dehumanizing and mentally damaging misogynistic culture is; how deep it runs. She may not experience the racial interactions with misogyny, but she still faces misogyny, and misogyny is unforgiving. Its not a gentle oppression, its deep rooted and heavily normalized. Imagine if I said white TIFs named Kai weren't oppressed because they're white, imagine what the feedback would be 😭 Now yes I do think black women would be scrutinized more than white women for being a single mother, but this topic already has general misogynistic mechanics. Black women are seen as less educated, more sexual, and more aggressive. So absolutely, race can slightly change the characteristics of the hate, but this issue is grounded in the aspect of WOMEN. Intersectionality is something we HAVE to consider in feminism but it isn't the main attraction. You can't only ever talk about feminism when it includes other issues because you care more about other issues. And for the love of God, stop making it an oppression-off between women. Intersectionality is supposed to help us, but instead, misogynistic lefties love to weaponize it. And libfems suddenly forget all about that intersectionality as soon as it comes to criticizing culture. It's all an elaborate show of "look at how good of a person I am". Intersectionality lifts women up based on the other issues they have. It does not take from the focus on women.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Luke would be the type to keep his private life very private so him having a gf only really his family and friends in michigan know so the devils have no clue and i could see the boys always trying to get luke to hookup with people for like a whole season till next season when they finally learn luke has had a gf the whole time

Oh boy, 100%. He always just politely tells them he's not interested in dating anyone or having a casual hookup or pretends he doesn't notice what they're doing. Jack 100% does not help, he finds it hilarious when any of the guys are trying to get Luke to talk to some random girl in a bar, but he will 100% confirm to you that Luke is the most loyal boyfriend you could ask for. I also see Luke feeling guilty about it even though he hasn't done anything, so every time he gets back to the apartment he's telling you if you live together or phoning you if you don't and basically confessing his 'sins', like 'i'm so sorry, baby, Marky tried to get me to go out with this blonde and she wouldn't stop touching my arm and I told her I wasn't interested and I only love you.' Definitely reaches a point where he breaks and just goes 'STOP! I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND' and all the guys are just like 'why the hell didn't you tell us this sooner?' Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

"Hey, C'mon, Rusty! What about the blonde at the end of the bar?" Curtis points to a young woman around Luke's age, platinum blonde hair, little black dress, who's eyeing Luke like he might be candy. It doesn't flatter him, if anything it sends a sick feeling to his gut, a roiling discomfort because only you're allowed to look at him like that. You can eye fuck him, no one else. He feels objectified.

"Curtis, I've told you I'm not interested. Not my type." Not his type because his girlfriend is his only type and there's only one of you. It doesn't matter if 100 attractive women all tried to get his number right now, he wouldn't care, wouldn't give it out because you're the one he wants. Literally no one compares to you, he's smitten, whipped, absolutely in love.

"C'mon, seriously! You didn't go out with anyone all last season! Not even a hook up, you're celibate, man! You're young, you should be having fun!" Curtis knocks his shoulder with a grin and Luke just grips his beer tighter, feeling a familiar frustration at the situation. He spent all of last season dealing with the boys trying to goad him into hook ups and flings, throwing women at him like it was their duty to get him laid. He hated every minute of it.

"Yeah, Lukey, you were practically celibate, a monk," Jack chimes in, arm thrown over Luke's shoulder with a grin, the irony of his words not lost on either of them because Luke was definitely not celibate last year. He just wasn't hooking up with random strangers, because he'd started dating you, because you were the only person he wanted to see, to kiss, to sleep with and that still stood firm and true.

"Just go talk to her, maybe you'll get lucky and go home with her tonight! C'mon, what's wrong?" It's Dougie that chimes in this time and Luke wants to die. He wants to die. Or alternative go to your apartment and curl up with you in bed because this is the worst.

"Yeah, are you scared, Lukey?" If Jack wasn't his brother he'd have killed him already, killed him for encouraging all of this bullshit for a year, knowing full well that Luke wasn't single. But, he can't because his mom would be upset if Jack died...he rolls his eyes at him instead, shrugging his arm off of his shoulders.

"You're not secretly a virgin or anything, right, Rusty?"

"Fuck off, Lazar." He snaps, not because it would matter if he was, but because it's stupid that that's the only reason people can comprehend he wouldn't want to sleep around. Maybe it's just not his thing to have hook ups? Maybe he's focusing on his career? Maybe he's already in love and anything else would be cheap and insignificant in comparison?

"Oh, that's hit a nerve, some truth in that?" The guys are all grinning at him like they think they've got it all worked out and it just...it makes him snap, slamming the bottle of beer he'd been cradling to the bar top.

"No, y'know why I don't want to go talk to some random fucking blonde in the bar or hook up with whatever girl you throw my way? Because I've got a fucking girlfriend, okay? I'm not virgin! I'm not celibate! I just don't want to fuck a girl that isn't my girlfriend!" Luke's breathing heavy by the end of it, red it the face because it is so fucking annoying to constantly be bugged about it and he just wants everyone to get off his back. He's happily with you, he doesn't need random hook ups and he certainly doesn't need his team mates trying to get him laid like they have some moral duty to do so.

The way they look at him makes him feel stupid because suddenly they're all calling out variations of, "Dude! Why the fuck didn't you tell us this sooner?!" and he realises that maybe he could have solved this all months earlier by just saying he was seeing someone...like a normal person, maybe? But he'd wanted to keep things private...

He flounders for an explanation, mouth opening and closing, running a hand through his mess curls like that might help his brain to function.

"I just...it was new and...we were keeping it private."

It's Marky that turns to look at Jack, "Did you not know about this?"

"Oh, I knew." Jack is all smug enjoyment, leaning back against the bar and winking at the blonde Curtis had been trying to set Luke up with. Satisfaction rolled off him in cocky waves.

"Why they hell did you let us shove girls at your brother then?" Curtis asks, shocked, nay baffled because Jack had just spent an entire season practically encouraging the behaviour all while knowing full well Luke was dating you.

"It was funny," He shrugs with a grin and mentally Luke is considering whether the price he'd pay is worth putting itching powder in Jack's underwear drawer or maybe if cutting his hair in his sleep would be a better punishment since he can't rip another set of braces off him like Quinn did.

"That's messed up, Jack!" "Yeah, man!"

Luke sighs as the guys all ripped into Jack, downing the last of his beer and grabbing his phone off the bar top.

"Fuck this, I'm going to see Y/N."

"Ohh, you're girlfriend!?" And just like that Luke knows...he knows he's not out of the woods, it's just that the woods have changed from teasing and taunting him about hook ups, to doing so about his girlfriend.

Fuck, he hates being a younger brother.

[lavenderprose]

Emmrich is confident in himself and knows what he brings to a relationship. Doesn't seem himself as someone who experiences a great amount of angst when it comes to his appearance; he knows he takes care of himself, looks good, dresses well. The way he carries himself alone is, he's been told, a turn-on. Back straight, regal. Always seems to know what to do with his hands. He's got it locked down.

That said, he's a man in his fifties. Time marches ever on. He's been graying since he was a young man--time was kind enough to let him keep the thickness of his hair, if not the color. He remembers being young, ladies and gentlemen alike telling him that they considered his coif, inky black at the time and so stark again his pink-alabaster skin, to be one of his finer features. The color was all but gone by the time he was thirty. Time marches.

There are multiple things like this that he's aware of, as a man who monitors his own appearance to the extent that he does. Once one reaches a certain age, there is a certain softness of the belly that won't vanish for even the most active of individuals. He's watched his hands grow aged. His knees aren't what they used to be, though he takes potions for this and it doesn't affect his abilities. In the end, he knows he's aged gracefully, and continues to do so--but 'gracefully' and 'imperceptively' certainly have different definitions.

Enter Rook, who is not the youngest of their companions. Old enough to have confronted her own fears and come out on the other side knowing her desires--at least in some way. He knows he's desired by her. He's known since a particular look in her eye on their first excursion to the Memorial Gardens; an unmistakable, though brief, spark of want.

In that moment, he could have had her. If he'd known her then as he did now, and understood that she wasn't the sort of woman to be above a giggling fuck in a bush with an attractive acquaintance, he might have let himself have her. As it was, it had taken time. Their first night spent together had been sweeter for it. Not that the bush wouldn't have been sweet.

Admittedly, there had been one other item holding him back, other than that of her virtue. There are decades of time between them. She came screaming into the world around the time the first gray hairs poked themselves out of his skull, premature though it was. It's something to consider. He assumed at the time--and now knows--that she'd never had a lover much older than herself. Though Emmrich knows himself to be a perfectly capable lover, a quite attractive specimen of a fifty-hmm-shh year old man, he knows (and does all the time) that he can no longer reasonably be compared to the same standards as a person twenty years his junior.

It stayed his hand.

A hand which Rook, when given the slightest opening to do so, grabs and yanks and places exactly where she wants it.

"I love your hands," she says, tracing tendons and veins, places where time had taken some of the elasticity from his skin. "They're beautiful. Touch me. Maker, touch me."

It's praise that goes straight to his core. The hands aren't one of his greatest insecurities, but he feels at times like a warrior fighting a ceaseless battle against time when it comes to his skin. Creams for softness, oils for moisture, tonics to block sunlight on the occassion he did leave the shaded Necropolis halls. He marvels, still does, at the fact that she doesn't even seem to notice the imperfections that had seemed utterly unignorable to him.

Far more of an insecurity is, of course, the belly--which he knows to be healthy, normal and fine, but which he purposefully hides nonetheless. Davrin is young, an objectively attractive man, and can quite commonly be seen shirtless around the Lighthouse. Some comparisons can't help but be drawn.

Rook, of this evening, unwraps the sash from around his waist with the glee of a child on her nameday and slides her hands down the buttons of his shirt. She frees his body, soft stomach and all, and presses her nose directly to his navel.

"Your body," Rook sighs, ecstatic. "I think about it all the time. I swear, Emmrich, I'm losing my mind. Do you know how sexy you are?"

"A question I could pose in return," he chuckles, and they both know he's deflecting--at least a little.

She's not having it on this night. She crawls back up, rests the perfect softness of her ass directly on top of his straining erection. Pushes her hands into the steely hair sprinkled about his chest.

"You're so--" she sighs, then seems to get distracted, and spends a moment tracing her thumbs circuitously around his nipples. He hisses, twitching against her. "I've never been with someone I was so attracted to. That sounds bad. I was attracted to them. But you, I mean..." She descends on him, mouth open, and he cries out to feel her teeth sink into his chest.

"You're going to give me quite the ego, dearest," he tells her, once he's gotten a hold of himself--figuratively and literally. He's palming himself, fingers gripped around the fabric of his pants and his own straining flesh, and the back of his hand basks in the humidity between her thighs.

"Good," she coos, and then traces her thumb over his mustache, follows it with her lips. "You're so beautiful. I think about you all the time. Your hands and your nose and your fucking--chest hair--"

"It used to be black, you know," he whispers, and she draws back. They share his vulnerability for a moment. He can see her realize and catalogue something, in the back of her intelligent eyes.

"It looks better gray," she whispers back. "And when it turns white, I'll throw a fucking party."

He cries a little--something that surprises even him, because he hadn't realized how close to his chest he'd been holding some of this...dread--and even that doesn't seem to bother her. She coos and kisses him and, when he slides inside her, yowls and clings and calls him perfection.

He believes it.

[aayakashii]

soooo I wrote this for the art god @devotion-disorder because

1- they're one of my favorite artists ever!!!!!!! And they're someone who portrays yanderes in such a 😙🤌 chef's kiss way that I can't help but admire

2- I am obsessed with their oc kuuya

but if you'd rather I delete it, just let me know!!

Warnings: NSFW, yandere behavior, unhealthy obsession !!! Minors DNI !!!

Part 2 of this fic here <3

The skin on the nape of your neck prickled, making you shiver at the strange sensation.

The steady gaze outside your window was so piercing and unmoving that it could be as sharp as needles nicking your skin.

Although, if you were to be fully honest, it felt more like a knife.

It would be just another night, if it wasn't for the fact that your co-worker lurked outside your house.

"Kuuya", you mouthed his name, just to feel how it moves against your lips, because you could never really say it during daytime without having him spiral headfirst into a meltdown.

Kuuya was a disaster.

He never talked to you.

You would sometimes catch him staring at you during work, which made him blush like an anime schoolgirl, but that was the extent of his interaction with you.

He was a regular employee, didn't stand out much, nor caused problems. He was just... there. Constantly looking exhausted, with his back hunched and in the verge of a mental breakdown.

And you were so attracted to that mess of a man.

Your friends would probably frown and sigh if they knew, but they were also pretty much aware of your type: sickly victorian-looking men, anemic, with extremely dark circles under their eyes, who probably sneeze a lot and shake like chihuahuas.

And, hey, that was Kuuya to a T. How could you not have a crush on him?

You soon realized, however, that he probably had a few screws loose.

It started slow, a few things going missing. First it was a pen, then some of your hair ties, then old post-it notes you had forgotten about, until their absence reminded you of their existence.

These things were inconsequential.

You wouldn't even notice their disappearance, if it wasnt for the fact that one day you saw Kuuya with a fluffy hair tie that looked way too similar to yours to be a coincidence. It even had the same little star charm that yours had.

And then you noticed the pens, carefully placed inside a cup near his computer.

And the erasers, the post-its, the pencils, all the other office appliances that you were pretty sure were yours.

But they weren't, right?

That was just your fertile imagination playing tricks on you.

Right?

One day, just to erase this silly idea from your head – I mean, you were probably just paranoid – you waited until you saw Kuuya take a break from his assignments and make his way to the bathroom.

You observed through the corner of your eyes how he stared at you while making his way to the other side of the office, anxiously shaking your leg as you mentally egged him to hurry up and go to the damn toilet.

As soon as you were sure he was inside and you were out his sight, you bolted towards his desk, earning a few pissed off glances from your other coworkers.

You had to work quickly though, since you didnt know how long he would take to come back. Looking over your shoulder constantly, you opened the drawers under his desk, searching for something and feeling silly all the while (what if you're the crazy paranoic one for real?), until your hands haphazardly touched some papers and you heard the sound of crinkles.

Looking over your shoulder one more time to make sure he wasn't around, you lifted the papers and mouthed a silent "oh." as you saw what was underneath them.

Dozens and dozens of candy wrappers, discarded notes and even more of those old post-its laid organized in what you could say was impeccable fashion, if it wasnt for the fact that it was all trash.

Your trash.

In the back, you saw some plastic bags with questionable contents, but your anxiety was in an all time high and you decided to just put things back were they were and close the drawer.

You had your confirmation. He WAS crazy and you were still paranoid, but at least you were right.

You made way back to your desk and sighed, sitting down.

Conflicted feelings pooled in your gut.

You knew all of that meant that he was indeed crazy and obsessed and potentially dangerous, but also... you couldn't really deny the excitement that made butterflies fly all around in your stomach and the giddy feeling that made your heart race with expectations – of what, you didn't know.

And as these feeling swarmed you, you failed to realize the pair of eyes that were locked tight onto your figure from the very start.

If Kuuya could properly express his feelings, he would be moaning and whining in pure despair.

They saw everything. They saw where he keeps all his treasures he had been collecting for the past months.

But why?! Why did they even think about looking for that? Has Kuuya been acting too obvious? But he made sure he wouldn't be too creepy! Well, at least not as creepy as he truly wanted to be. How was that happening all of a sudden?!

The taste of copper interrupted his mental breakdown and he looked down at his thumb, where tiny droplets of blood appeared after he anxiously chewed it.

"It's okay, it's fine" he kept repeating in his mind, like a mantra. He'd just need to see how you'd act around him after that.

If you stopped interacting with him (even if most of those interactions were just good mornings and good evenings coming from YOU), he would probably just... end it all for once. Or maybe kidnap you so you wouldn't run away. Whatever crossed his mind first.

With his heart beating loud on his chest, Kuuya walked back to his seat and forced himself to work, spreadsheets and numbers flashing on his mind, unnoticed.

All he could think was of your hands rummaging through his drawers.

Oh god, your hands touched his things.

Kuuya exhaled sharply, rubbing his thighs together to alleviate the sudden discomfort in his groin. What would he do if you never even looked at his direction again? Sure, you could even report him to the HR, but not being able to see you was a fate worse than being fired!

His mind tumbled, wandering through every worst scenario possible, and in his despair, he didn't notice it was already time to clock out.

"Good evening, Kuuya." You say as you pass by him, nodding your head, with a tight smile.

'Huh?'

Kuuya stares at nothing in front of him, until the fact that you talked to him registers in his mind.

'HUH?'

You talked to him?

Wait.

Did you really see what was in his drawers? Was he just hallucinating? No, there's no way he was. He saw how your colleagues stared at you when you ran to his table. They SAW you. Just like he did. So you saw everything. And you don't hate him? What the fuck. You don't find him disgusting? What? What the hell.

He didn't understand.

He couldn't understand.

He had to understand.

And so, he led himself towards your house, hiding in the bushes right in front of your bedroom window.

How lucky was he that you didn't live in an apartment building?

He was there to understand you better. Just for that. And it'd be just this time, he swore. Just to see what was up with you.

His breath was ragged and heavy and his cheeks burned red. He bit his bottom lip tightly to keep any moan from escaping as he palmed himself through his pants, while he watched the way you stripped yourself of your work clothes.

Quickly undoing his belt buckle and his pants, he let himself be completely overtaken by pure lust and began pumping his dick mercilessly as he was graced with just a little bit more of your skin, right in front of him.

He saw you sigh as you got rid of your pants and his eyes rolled back, imagining how you'd sound if he was the one taking your clothes off.

Oh, what would he give to be able to jump through your window and grab one of your dirty clothes and get drunk on your scent...

The thought made him buck his hips forward clumsily, and he gritted his teeth, hard.

Well, fuck.

He panted, while he observed the way his cum dripped from the leaves of the bush, and as coherent thoughts started flowing back to his mind, he suddenly hoped he wasn't moving too much to catch your attention.

You hadn't even looked his way, so he was safe, right?

Right?

You rubbed your thighs together as you kept your back turned to the window. The windowpane was open, in order to allow the wind to flow through your bedroom, and due to this little fact, you could hear a faint sound coming from the plants right in front of your window.

A quiet, almost indiscernible (if you weren't paying close attention) plap plap plap sound.

You bit your lip to keep your grin from spreading through your lips.

The dumbass was masturbating! Right there! Right in front of your room!

You sighed, feeling the heat pool in between your legs, but controlled your instinct to pull him out from wherever he was and fuck him silly in your bedroom.

You desired him so fucking much. You thrived in his attention, like a sunflower leaning towards rays of light.

The thing is: while you loved his obsession, you were also deathly afraid that he would lose interest in you as soon as he found out how much you also wanted him.

Much like a cat who discards a prey. Except this cat was wet, sad, pathetic and still, you were ridiculously eager to keep playing dead so he would put his grimy, sticky little paws on you just a little bit more.

How would Kuuya feel, you wondered, if he knew you were as obsessed with him as much as he was with you?

[writinginatree]

Too Sweet

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson/female!reader

Summary: Xaden never understood how opposites could attract — not until he meets you and realizes that he doesn't have to understand your sweetness to cherish it.

Anonymous requested: I was thinking in a xaden fic based in "too sweet" from Hozier, where he's all like wanting the reader but also thinking like she deserved more, but with a happy ending ( maybe smutty too ✋🏻

Part 2

Xaden never understood that opposites were supposed to attract. On a physical level, sure. But when it comes to personality and ideology? How could anyone be with someone so wildly different from themselves that they can't possibly understand the other? Someone whose whole attitude to life is completely unlike their own? To him, it just seemed like a recipe for heartbreak. Then again, the saying only claims that opposites attract, not necessarily that they're compatible.

Since meeting you, this is something he's been thinking about a lot.

You're everything he is not; happy, bubbly, energetic, adored by just about everyone and making friends left and right. You're... sweet. There's no other way to put it. What someone like you is doing in the Riders Quadrant, Xaden doesn't know.

He tries to keep his distance at first — liking people is dangerous, and you're much too likable. Needless to say, it doesn't work. Being in the same squad, he constantly finds himself in your presence, and while he keeps to himself as much as he can, he finds it hard to outright avoid you. Almost against his will, he slowly gets to know you. He can't exactly help it, seeing as you sit next to him in almost every class, seek him out at mealtimes, asking him to come sit with the rest of your squad, offer smiles every time you pass him in the halls. You're everywhere, a persistent ray of sunshine piercing into the darkness of his life.

He doesn't understand you. Doesn't have a clue why you're so nice, or how you always manage to be so sociable, no matter what time it is or what lethal bullshit you're about to face, let alone why you seem to genuinely like him. Unlike most others, you have no prejudices against the marked ones, but even so, Xaden is not an easy person to like these days. He can't afford kindness, weakness. Not with all the lives that quite literally rest upon his back.

But no matter how curt he is, no matter how often he only gives one-word answers to your steady stream of chatter or declines your offers to study together, your friendliness never wavers. Every morning your beaming smile greets him in the gathering hall at breakfast, and as days turn into weeks, he often finds his gaze automatically scanning the room for you upon entering, hoping to catch a glimpse of that precious smile. Your presence becomes a comforting part of his routine, always there and yet never intruding. For all your persistence in trying to include him, you're never overbearing. You don't push him when he doesn't join your squad's study session, give him opportunity to join a conversation should he want to, but accept when he doesn't.

He shouldn't get too used to your presence — two of your year-mates have died already, and there's no guarantee you won't be next. Life is dangerous in the Riders Quadrant, and Xaden keeps wondering why someone so sweet would choose this life. You seem more like the type who would be a healer — or maybe even a baker or gardener, far away from the cruelty of war. And yet you thrive even in this environment. He supposes he could just ask you about it, but he doesn't want to get to know you, gods damn it.

Thinking back later, Xaden will realize that the superficial attraction he felt for you from the first starts to grow toward something more the first time your squad leader pairs him with you for a sparring session.

He has already seen you fight at Assessment, but facing you on the mat himself, he gets a much more intimate feeling of your fighting style. You're fast, full of the same energy that is in everything you do, smiling even as you struggle to dodge his punches and get past his defense. You're good. Not as good as him, but your enthusiasm makes up for that. Xaden has to admit — at least to himself — that sparring with you is actually fun. The training session seems to be over in the blink of an eye, and as you step off the mat, both of you sweaty and breathing hard, Xaden is already looking forward to the next, hoping he'll get you as his sparring partner again.

For once he allows himself to be drawn into conversation, answering your questions on how to improve your technique as you walk out of the gym side by side.

The better he gets to know you, the more he has to keep reminding himself to stay away from you, that you're too sweet for him. But, oh, it's hard; he enjoys your company so much. Garrick has caught on, too, teasing him about what he calls his crush on the sunshine girl every time he sees him talking to you. And though Xaden vehemently denies having such a silly thing as a crush, he can't even convince himself of that, let alone his best friend. Having known him as long as he does, Garrick always sees right through him.

The relief Xaden feels at Threshing when he lands and spots you already standing on the flight field in front of a Red is immense. He quickly shoves the feeling down, preferring not to think about what it implies. He does not have a crush, and the last thing he needs is for his dragon to think him a lovesick fool and change its mind about bonding him while it still can. He feels the unfamiliar presence of her in the back of his mind, her golden eyes piercing into him after he dismounts.

He feels all the other people's gazes on him, too, the disapproving stares from where leadership is seated on the dais, their disdain for him permeating the very air. He keeps his head high as he walks to the rollkeeper, refusing to so much as look at the people who'd doubtlessly been hoping he would meet his end in the woods today.

Blood keeps trickling into his eye from the cut Sgaeyl gave him. It stings, but the annoyance of it is worse than the pain. Pain is fine. But constantly having to blink away the blood blurring his vision, feeling it run down his cheek like tears — it makes his skin crawl with discomfort. He's not going to seek out the professors giving first-aid, though. Bothersome as it might be, it's just a little cut, and he can't afford to look weak.

As he walks back to Sgaeyl, his eyes automatically find you in the crowd of mingling first-years, just as they always do. You're watching him, too, but unlike everyone else whose gazes darken, you smile at the sight of him. When you notice him looking, you wave and start toward him. As you get closer, Xaden notes a split in your lip and a blood-soaked bandage around your thigh, but since you're hardly even limping, Xaden assumes that the injury can't be very bad. No, if anything, there's even more of a spring to your walk than usual, your hair bouncing with every step.

Instead of stopping in front of him when you reach him, you throw your arms around him, squeezing him tight, and suddenly, Xaden doesn't remember how to breathe. No one just hugs him out of nowhere like that. No one would even dream of hugging him at all. And yet here you are, doing just that and apparently thinking nothing of it, judging by the easy smile on your face when you let go after a couple of seconds.

"I'm glad you made it," you say. "I mean, I never doubted it, but still."

"I'm glad you made it, too," he admits, quiet enough that none of the people nearby will hear. He allows himself to return your smile, just for a moment, absentmindedly lifting his hand to wipe blood from his eye again. Your gaze immediately snags on the cut, a small crease appearing between your own brows.

"Your dragon?" you ask.

Xaden nods.

"You'd think the relics they'll give us should be enough to mark us as theirs, but apparently not. Mine stabbed me in the thigh."

"Daggertail?"

"Swordtail. Went right through and back out on the other side, but luckily she didn't cut through anything important." You shrug, the grin reappearing on your face as you tilt your head to the side, studying him. "That'll be one hell of a badass scar you're gonna have there."

Xaden bites back another smile, watching with slight confusion as you remove the kerchief you're wearing around your neck today. For a moment, Xaden catches a flash of glitter dotting the black cloth, then it's too close to see clearly as you bring the balled up fabric to his brow and dab up the blood. Your touch is much gentler than his own, and, with the cloth soaking up the blood, much more effective, too.

After a few seconds you pull back, pressing your now bloody neckerchief into his hand. "Keep it."

"Thanks," he mutters past the lump he suddenly seems to have in his throat.

He'll never get used to how kind you are. It's such a little thing, to notice how much the blood in his eye was bothering him and do something about it, and yet it means more to him than you could ever know. It'll probably take a while until the wound completely stops bleeding, but with your kerchief to wipe at it, at least it won't bleed all over his face anymore.

He pretends to listen as you start rambling about your dragon and the thrill of the short flight here, and though Xaden agrees that there's nothing that can compare to the feeling of flying, he can't focus enough to keep up with the sheer endless rush of words. It should be annoying, he thinks. The constant happy babbling, the needless touching — even now you're standing much closer than necessary, shaking his arm as you bounce on your feet while telling him about a particularly exciting part of approaching Milis. If anyone else did that, he'd shove them away to get some space, tell them to stop being so childish. But for some reason it doesn't bother him when you're the one doing it.

Spotting Garrick in the crowd, Xaden hurriedly uses the excuse to walk away toward his best friend. Turning his mind to more practical matters, he forces his thoughts away from you with great difficulty, still reeling from your unreasonable kindness.

After Threshing, something changes, and Xaden finds himself spending more and more time in your company. Maybe it's just that you and him are slowly crystalizing out to be the most powerful in your squad. Or maybe he's going down a slippery slope, no idea where it might lead but unable to stop the descent.

Too sweet, that's what you are. But then, Xaden has always liked sweet things. He remembers when he was a child, being told that all those sugary things he liked so much would hurt his teeth. With you, he feels similar to how he did then; afraid of the hurt he might be causing himself in the long run and wishing to preserve himself from it, but unable to resist the immediate temptation of sweetness. He craves it, that contrast you bring to the usual bitterness that is his life.

And it's refreshing to be around someone who isn't scared of him, even if he still doesn't understand why you aren't intimidated of him like everyone else. Despite your easygoing attitude and bubbly personality, you're far from a fool, unrelenting and self-preservative when need be.

It's an uncomfortable thought, the idea that maybe you're seeing past the stoic facade he keeps, know that he wouldn't hurt you unless you hurt him first. He's not used to people seeing him for who he is anymore, only for who he has to be. The Great Betrayer's son, the heir apparent, the revolution's leader. Traitor or hero, depending on who you ask. But with you, he can simply be Xaden. It scares him, that vulnerability you bring out in him, but he'd be lying if he claimed not to like how simple everything seems when he's with you.

The only difficulty is the secrets he is forced to keep. Luckily, you're very understanding when he says he doesn't want to talk about anything to do with his father's rebellion, and if you suspect that he's up to anything illegal, you don't show it. Some of it — like the meetings with all the marked ones in the quadrant to make sure everyone is helping each other get by — he could probably trust you with. By now, he knows you well enough to know you wouldn't immediately jump to the worst conclusions, would probably even help him sneak out. But in a way, the worst possible conclusions are uncomfortably close to the truth, and he can't risk revealing even such a comparatively harmless secret. No, the less you know, the better — for both of you.

Enjoy your company as he might, sometimes it does grate on his nerves, that seemingly endless happy energy you radiate. Like today, sitting at breakfast and tired out of his mind as he sips on his second mug of coffee when you come bouncing into the gathering hall, fresh from the gym. If he didn't know you get up before sunrise every morning to lift weights with another girl from your squad before breakfast, he'd think you came straight from your bed after a full night's sleep. Of course, even with getting up almost two hours earlier than necessary, you're most certainly still getting more sleep than he is.

Sliding into your usual seat beside him, you greet everyone with more enthusiasm than anyone should have at this time of morning. Xaden returns only the barest of nods, which is more than he's spared anyone else so far. He can already tell this is not going to be his day, and he doesn't feel like wasting energy on being sociable.

You know better than to take it personally, humming a happy little melody under your breath as you start to eat.

As much as Xaden normally enjoys the sound of your voice, the noise in the hall is already bad enough, and he doesn't need you adding to it. "Would you stop that?" he snaps, more harshly than he had intended.

You fall quiet with an apologetic smile, and Xaden immediately feels bad about losing his patience on you.

He downs the rest of his coffee, contemplating whether or not getting another mug of it would help his mood. Probably not, but it's worth a try to keep from snapping at you again. You're trying to be considerate, doubtlessly having noticed that the dark circles under his eyes are even more pronounced than usual, but it simply isn't in your nature to be quiet for long. He likes that — most of the time, at least. The silence he takes refuge in can feel suffocating at times; having you around to break it makes life decidedly more bearable.

"Maybe you'd be less tired if you tried going to bed a little earlier," you tease.

The glare he levels on you is the kind that would have a lesser person shrinking in their seat, as evident by the wary looks from your squadmates, but you're not intimidated in the least. If anything, your smile only widens.

Unbelievable.

"How do you want to know what time I go to bed?"

You shrug. "You know I have the room next to yours. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and when I look out of the window then there's always light coming from your window."

"Stalker," he mutters, rolling his eyes when you giggle. The sound effortlessly melts away the worst of his irritation, leaving him still tired and moody, but decidedly less likely to kill anyone for testing his patience.

"I wasn't stalking you on purpose," you defend yourself, the laughter lingering in your voice, "I just like looking at the snow in the moonlight. It's always so pretty, don't you think?"

Xaden shrugs. It's been a long time since he's spared any thought to the beauty of nature. The next time he can't sleep — which is almost all the time — he'll try to enjoy the nightly view from his window too, he decides, if only so he can understand what you like about it.

"The snow would be all nice and well if we didn't have to fly in it," your squadmate inserts themself into the conversation. "Have you seen how much is coming down right now?"

You nod. "Maybe it'll let up until our turn on the flight field. Milis says if this keeps up, she and the other dragons might just refuse to show up." Quieter, only for Xaden, you add, "Let's hope they don't, then you can use the time for a nap instead."

"I don't need a nap," he grumbles back, just as quietly. Truth be told, he probably could use one, but if he were able to sleep, he wouldn't be this tired.

"You sure? I'll even sing you a lullaby if you'd like."

You wink at him, grinning in that way only you can, and Xaden knows that despite your playful manner, you're serious about helping him fall asleep if you can.

He shakes his head, smiling against his will. "You're a dork."

"And you're an insomniac."

"I'm fine."

"Whatever you say."

People's intimidation of him turns to outright fear once his signet manifests, shadows stirring wherever he goes. As usual, you're the exception. Your eyes shine with awe and something like pride as you watch him demonstrate his newfound powers to you with rapt fascination, not a trace of fear to be found.

"That's amazing!" You bring a hand to the shadow closest to you, gingerly brushing your fingers along it. Xaden feels goosebumps rise on his skin, as if it had been him you touched. "They're actually solid! How is that even possible?"

"No idea," Xaden admits. "I'm only just starting to figure out how it works."

As his signet grows stronger, your shadow is the one he's most aware of. Even when you're not in the same room — or even the same building — as him, he always knows exactly where you are and what you're doing. It's not what he should be using this power for, but the shadows seem to have a mind of their own. They're very attached to you. Or maybe he's just making that up to excuse his embarrassing lack of control. It's not like he wants to be some kind of obsessive stalker; he simply can't help the fact that you're constantly on his mind.

If you have noticed that the shadows near you always seem more alive than is natural as of late, you haven't mentioned it. Not very surprising, considering you're occupied with trying to control your own water wielding signet. Xaden has taken more than one involuntary bath since it manifested a couple weeks ago, and has learned to keep his distance from you while drinking water. When you lose control, it's always him getting drenched, as though your water is drawn to him the same way his shadows are to you. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't the middle of fucking winter. You always try to remove the moisture from his clothes afterwards, but while you have already gotten a little better at it, even your best efforts don't get them any less than damp, so Xaden — or whoever else falls victim to your flood — is left either freezing his ass off in wet clothes, or making himself late to the next class by returning to his room to get changed.

Worst of all, Xaden can't even bring himself to be mad at you about it. He's no better; the only difference is that, so far, his shadows haven't tried to drown anyone.

He probably shouldn't be thinking about that incident as often as he does, and he definitely shouldn't be so giddy about it. It was hotter than it had any right to be, watching you almost murder someone on his account. It also made his heart flutter with a whole array of feelings he can't even begin to name. While Xaden obviously doesn't need your protection, the fact that you're willing to publicly stand up for him means a lot. The knowledge that you got so angry in defense of him, that you wielded enough water to flood a whole stairway without even meaning to because someone had been talking shit about him... Just thinking about it makes him more emotional than he'd like.

But while your signet can be wild and destructive, the water is usually gentle. It's an accurate reflection of you, he thinks, untamed and unpredictable, inherently soft but just as capable of terrible harm when provoked. When you're calm and in control, the water flows steadily along like the ever present stream of your chatter, lively and somehow soothing at the same time. Xaden enjoys watching it, how it can flow through even the smallest crack, how it glitters in the light. He enjoys watching you wield it even more, the look of concentration on your face, the beaming smile when you get it to do what you want. It's hypnotizing. A dangerous distraction he really can't afford. He loses track of everything else all too easily when he's with you. You're an undertow, irresistibly pulling him in, and Xaden would happily drown in your sweet waters.

When his lips finally meet yours for the first time, you taste as sweet as Xaden's favorite chocolate cake, and he's instantly addicted.

Afterward, he's not even sure how it happened. You'd been sitting in commons after doing homework together, enjoying a few more minutes of quiet in each other's presence before turning in for the night. You'd rested your head on his shoulder, smiling up at him as he teased you about already being tired so early in the evening, the only other sound the dripping of the melting snow outside the window. Then, before he even knew what he was doing, Xaden had leaned down and kissed you.

Lying in bed that night, he still can't believe it. Even harder to believe is the fact that you'd kissed back, smiling from ear to ear and gracing him with another peck of your lips when he'd wished you a good night and fled to his room. He still feels the ghost of your lips against his, imagines he can still taste you as he licks them.

Trying to form a coherent thought feels like swimming through an ocean of thick, cloying sweet honey. When he closes his eyes, there's only you. Your bright smile and soft eyes, the sound of your laugh, the feeling of your lips, over and over again. The tiny part of him still capable of logic is telling him he made a mistake, that he should stay the fuck away from you. Indulging the feelings for you, which he is no longer able to deny, can't lead anywhere good. He should turn back while he still can, for your sake as much as his own.

You deserve someone nicer, someone you won't be in danger for associating with, who doesn't have so much to hide. Someone who can openly worship the ground you walk on, prioritize you over everything else. Xaden wishes he could be that person, but the burden he took on after his father's death won't allow it.

He plans on telling you as much, but when he sees you in the hall the next morning, he can't bring himself to get the words out. Your face lights up at the sight of him, the awareness of the joy his presence brings you making his heart ache. Then you come skipping over and peck his cheek, first making sure nobody is watching, which has Xaden melting all over again. No, as much as he knows he should end this before it can really start, he simply can't.

You walk to breakfast in companionable silence, which Xaden is very grateful for. He's not ready to talk about whatever this is that's developing between you. You'll have to, eventually, he knows. He'll have to decide if he wants to accept that he's smitten and just see where this will go, vulnerability and problems that would come with it and all, or if he wants to try and shut you out. It's barely a choice, considering how he loathes every moment he's apart from you. He should have never allowed himself to get this close in the first place, but now it's too late.

"You shouldn't be seen with me so much," he tells you a few days later. The both of you are late for math because you'd been too busy making out in an empty corridor to hear the bells, and he can't help but worry what everyone will think when they see you walk in together, kiss-swollen lips and all. "People will say you associate with traitors."

The roll of your eyes is a stark contrast to the gentle tone of your voice when you reply. "People see us together all the time, Xaden. It's not any different just because we're more than friends now. And I don't care what they think, anyway. You're not a traitor, and anyone who thinks you are is an idiot and doesn't matter."

Xaden has to bite his lip to keep silent. If only you knew what he's been up to. Dragging you into the revolution is the last thing he wants, and yet, he can't help but imagine how much nicer it all would be with you by his side. With a sense of justice as strong as yours, you would certainly want to help if you knew the truth of what's out there. No matter. He's not going to put you into that danger, not with how uncertain everything still is.

Twice him and Garrick have managed to smuggle weapons out now, chancing upon a friendly drift by mere luck the first time. Twice is not enough to determine whether they'll get away with it in the long run. For all he knows, someone could already be suspecting them — which is exactly why you should not be seen with him. Even unaware as you are, it's not safe.

And what if you catch on? Xaden knows you know he has secrets, and adores you even more for not pushing the matter, but eventually, your curiosity is bound to get the best of you. If you find out about the weapons runs, he'll either have to tell you what leadership has been hiding — which will sound like madness when he has no way to prove it — or let you believe him to be a traitor without reason. He can't imagine either.

Unfortunately, you choose just then to say, "You know, I missed you at dinner yesterday."

Xaden acknowledges your comment with a nod but doesn't reply, unwilling to lie but unable to tell you that he'd snuck out with Garrick to deliver the weapons they'd stolen for the fliers.

"I'm not saying that because I want to stalk you or anything," you continue. It's become sort of a running joke between the two of you to call the other a stalker for such observations. "It's just that you had me worried. Maybe next time you could let me know when you're going to be busy?"

"Yeah. I can do that," Xaden says, praying you won't ask where he's been.

"Thank you." You smile, briefly halting your steps to give him another kiss, and Xaden is too lost in the sweetness of it to notice you've already reached the classroom until you open the door.

Despite his resolution to not let your relationship — or whatever it is — progress any further, he does. It's like any time he's near you, he loses all common sense.

Sgaeyl is getting annoyed with him, telling him to make up his mind. It is clear he's already made his decision, she says, so he might as well commit to it. She's right, of course, even if Xaden hates to admit it.

He doesn't want to be the selfish asshole he feels he's being by letting himself bask in your presence every chance he gets, by allowing himself to dream of a future with you by his side. It's unattainable, no matter how much he wants it, and yet there's a tiny part of him that dares to hope and refuses to settle for less. You may not have actually talked about your feelings so far, but Xaden knows you want a real, deeper relationship with him as much as he does. It could all be so perfect, if there weren't all those responsibilities Xaden has to think of, the lives depending on him. He can't drag you into that mess in good conscience; just imagining that inherent joy leaving your eyes as the truth destroys your faith in humanity makes him feel sick.

Maybe he could be with you without letting you find out? You always respect his privacy, never probe about the secrets you know he has.

But no, he can't keep you in the dark forever. He'll tell you, sooner or later. You deserve to know the truth, terrible as it is. You deserve to fight by his side, if you so choose. Whatever horrors the future holds, Xaden wants to face them together with you.

"I don't know if this is such a good idea," he admits one night, lying in your bed. One last, half-hearted attempt to make you see he's bad for you. And if you brush it off like you always do, he'll accept that you want him too, consequences be damned.

"What isn't?"

"Us."

"Why not?" you ask, voice as soft as the drizzle of rain falling outside the window.

There's more than a dozen reasons he could list, but most of them have to do with matters he can't — won't — tell you about. Someday he will, if the world keeps turning long enough, but for the time being, it's better you don't know.

"I'm not sweet like you," he mumbles instead.

You just smile, the way you always do when he's being difficult. "No, I guess not. But you're not the bad guy you want people to think you are, either."

"You can't possibly know that."

He thinks of everything you don't know, the secrets he's hiding. Would you still think the same of him if you knew the truth about him, everything he really is?

"I do, though. You're not a bad guy," you repeat with a gentleness he doesn't deserve. "You're just you. A survivor. Maybe a bit broody. But that's okay, 'cause I love you just the way you are."

Your fingers brush a few stray hairs from his forehead, and the last of Xaden's resolve crumbles. Neither of you had dared use the word love so far; hearing it now, Xaden wants you to say it over and over again.

"Good. Because you're not getting rid of me anymore."

"No?"

"No. Even if you probably should."

"Good." You smile, ignoring the second half of what he said, and brush your lips against his. "Now stop worrying so much and go to sleep."

[inkskinned]

before you know about women, you hear that you do not need to love the man, just that you need to love him through his manhood. which is to say you have seen the future painted in lamb's blood over your eyes - how your mother shoots you a look about your father's inability to cook right. how your aunt holds her wineglass and says i'm gonna kill em. men, right! how your best friend bickers with her boyfriend, how she says i can't help it. i come back to him.

you learn: men are gonna cheat. men aren't going to listen when you're talking, because you're nagging. men think emotions are stupid. they think your life is vapid and your hobbies are embarrassing. men will slam things, but that's because men are allowed to be angry. if you get loud, you're hysterical. if a man gets loud - well, men are animals, men are dogs, men can't control their hands or their eyes or their bodies. they're going to make a snide comment about you in the locker room, about your body, about how you're so fucking annoying. you're going to give him kids, and he will give you the money for the kids, and you're going to be running the house 24/7 - but he gets to relax after a long day, because his job is stressful. the man is on stage, and is a comedian, and says "women!"

and you are supposed to love that. you are supposed to love men through how horrible they are to you - because that's what women do. that's what good women do. wife material. your father even told you once - it'll make sense when you're older. it was like staring down a very lonely tunnel.

it feels like something's caught in your throat, but it's all you know, so. it's okay that you see sex as a necessary tool, a sort of okay-enough ritual to keep him happy, even though he doesn't seem to care about happiness as-applied-to you. it is relationship upkeep. it is kissing him and smiling even though he didn't brush his teeth. it is getting on your knees and looking up and holding back a sigh because he barely holds you as you panic through the night. it's not like the sex is bad and you do like feeling wanted. and besides! he's a man! like... they're another species. you'll never be able to actually communicate, right. he isn't listening.

you just don't get it. you don't feel that sense of i'm gonna climb him like a tree. mostly it just feels fucking exhausting. you play the part perfectly. you smile and nod and are "effortlessly" charming. and it's fine! it's alright! you even love him, if you're looking. you could have good life, and a good family, and perfectly happy.

in the late night you google: am i broken. you google i'm not attracted to my husband. you google i get turned on by books but not by him. you google how to get better in bed.

the first time he yells at you, it almost feels like blankness. like - of course this is happening. this is always how it was going to end up. men get angry, and they yell, and you sit there in silence.

you mention it to your friend - just the once - while you're drunk. she shrugs and says it's like that with me too, i just try to forget and move on. men are always gonna hear what they want to. pick your battles and say sorry even though he's in the wrong. you play solitaire online for a month. you go to your therapist appointment and preach about how you're both so in love.

after all, you have a future to want. nobody lied about it - how many instagram posts say marriage is hard. say real love takes work. say we fight like cats and dogs but the best part is that we always make up. how many of your friends say happy anniversary to the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. if you really loved him - loved yourself too - you'd accept that men are just different from you.

the first time she kisses you, it's on a dare at a party. something large and terrifying whips through your body. you wake up sweating from dreams where her mouth is encrusted with pearls and you pick them off one by one with your teeth. fuck. you sit at the computer and your almost-finished game of sim city. you think about your potential perfect life and your potential future family. you google am i gay quiz with your little hands shaking.

you delete each letter slowly. you don't need to love him. you just need to keep going.