#i feel the pressure behind my eyes but i probably won't be able to for days maybe a week

[goblinofthelaboratory]

,

[hoseoksluna]

STORY | knj

pairing: soft dom!namjoon x reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.8k

summary: yours and namjoon’s story is a bit more perverted than traditional.

warnings: serious big dick namjoon, rough touches, hair pulling, use of pet names and titles, dom/sub dynamics, horny namjoon can't help but palm himself:(, desperation, masturbation, spanking, praising, tit slapping, nipple play, teasing, oc and namjoon not being comfortable with certain practices, playful orgasm denial, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), rimming && ass play :3, cum eating yum yum, tit fucking, orgasm countdown fuck

note: smut is so fucking difficult to write but i loved every second of it. i love writing about namjoon, he just makes me feel so safe. this is purely my fantasy with him and i'll probably dream about this for a long, long time. please, take your time reading this as it's pretty long. i hope you enjoy it and that it makes you dream like it made me dream. as always, let me know what you think in the comments, like the post and if you want to—reblog, but i won't pressure you angels <3. love you guys so much, thank you for all the love. kisses!

side note: i miss namjoon and i wish he were here. all i can do is watch his lives and pretend he never left for the military.

Namjoon makes himself comfortable on the wooden chair before you.

The scene is set. Like a mermaid bathing in the sun, you rest your elbows on the cold rim of the ivory bathtub. Small surges of violet-tinted water, perfumed with your scent, blanket your body in a thin layer of glittery sheen. They kiss the tiger stripes along the curve of your bottom as it rolls over, passing by the dip in the small of your waist, breathing in your patchouli fragrance in greeting. The bath bomb, cornered by your knees, sizzles and spins, the width of the tub allowing your form to float like a little fish in the open sea as copiously as you please.

A gift from your loving boyfriend. Both the clawfoot, and the bath bomb.

The scene expands. Your Eric slouches in his seat, balancing his greatest and most stellar possession on top of his lap with one hand while he runs the other through his silver mane. He fits perfectly in the picturesqueness of the background. Soft orange and chocolate tiles zig zag behind his back, transposing him momentarily into a sunlit illustration, where he rests in the shade of a palm tree on a faraway beach. Reads the book to pass the time as he waits for you to emerge from the waters. Sets it down on his lap as soon as his gaze catches yours. Periwinkle clams for a bra, panties thin and translucent from the oncoming waves, you rest your front on the sand. He smiles down at you and you know for a fact you won’t be able to get on your feet. Might have to learn how to walk, too.

You keep this picture in your heart. Mentally, you rip out the page. Fold it and tuck it somewhere within you to keep it safe.

Legs outstretched by the sides of the tub, clad in slacks in the muted color of a persimmon, it’s almost as though you’re propped on his lap. Sporting a simple white button-down, sleeves rolled, you’re close enough to touch the material if you so much as wished so. From his angle, Namjoon sees nothing but the roundness of your eyes through the brownish rims of his glasses, hair unkempt in their dampness as the short paper thin layers frame your flushed face in such a celestial way. If he were to lean over, it’d be a different kind of book.

The one in the clasp of his hand isn’t a tale as old as time.

It’s one of your favorites. An existential story that ridicules the traditional. A transfusion of liveness to a certain forgotten room of your heart. The unlit one while the others brim with sunlight, with the golden sepia projection of the contents of the fairytales you love so much made into stop motion. A coloring book of some sort, hues fitting into the lines by your helping hand—the attention of your eyes. 

Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. The book that sweeps away all those cobwebs in that chamber. Makes it less lonely.

It’s all you had talked about on your dates when you and Namjoon first started dating, having been reading it at the time. You had confided in him that the writer was the only person who understood you without ever learning your name, without familiarizing himself with the subtleties of your calamitous life.

No one has ever shared something so vulnerable with him, especially not on the first date. Not that he’d gone on many, but the few that fell into his grasp were hell to get through. Insufferable, to say the least. Absolutely superficial.

He went home in the rain thinking of you. Not for boyish reasons. But for reasons of literary character, of melancholy nature that squeezed his long-unexpressed heart in perpetuating intervals too consistent for his liking. Filled it with a nectar bubbling with a newly blooming love for books, with a sudden longing to be found within the words. His body decided for him that it was yours. Yours to teach again how to read between the lines.

The scene breaks out of the margins on the page.

“Is the water warm enough?”

The idea constructed by his own geniality, it’s by his will that you’re basking in your bare femininity before his eyes. Idleness lingered in the living room between the pair of you, the flimsy curtain by your balcony lifting and falling in a little dance as the cold air perfused the place with the drowsiness of winter. Pulling his eyes away from the TV to sink a soft kiss into your hair, Namjoon muttered into your ear: “How about I draw you a bath and read to you for a little bit?”

You said nothing. The click of your phone turning off and your hasty movements to untangle yourself from the warmth of his limbs answered him for you. Leaving your clothes as a trail for him to follow, you gave him a glimpse of your ass, arched and pointed in the draft before you ran away. Before he scolded you with his index finger like a father, raising to his feet to close the balcony door.

In two seconds he joined you in the bathroom. Leaned against the doorframe as you circled a pink roll-on lip oil you’ve been obsessed with lately around the perimeters of your lips. The one that makes them look bigger, juicier. That makes them more fun to kiss and toy with. The one that leaves his length sticky once playtime is over. You seem to cast aside little trinkets of yourself for him to collect everywhere you go.

Tits pushed towards each other while you slightly bent over the vanity sink, tapping the excess into the fullness of your mouth, Namjoon palmed himself. The tiredness from work earlier weakened his self-control to the point of unrestrained indulgence. And the plumpness of your ass just encouraged it.

You fluffed your hair and Namjoon ran the bath. Disappeared into the kitchen for a moment to retrieve the purple bath bomb from the plastic bag on the counter, one that he got from the convenience store for you. Dragon fruit and hibiscus. Thought of the twinkle that would sparkle beneath your lashes upon seeing it. Wasn’t disappointed when you exceeded his expectations.

Having seen it in the mirror, almost microscopic and round in his big palm, you turned on your heel and burst into giddiness as he took off the plastic packaging with his teeth. You pouted in gratefulness when he showed it to you. 

“You planned this, didn’t you?”

You hugged him, locking your hands behind the nape of his neck. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, and he told you so. A bit hoarsely, though.

Namjoon struggled not to moan. Groaned a little when he felt the curvature of your belly against his hardness and the pointed nubs of your tits beneath his pecs. Managed to conceal it, thankfully, by clearing his throat and by allowing an authentic grin to bloom on his dimpled face at your joy. Thanked the heavens for all the bath bombs in the world.

He placed it in your much smaller palm for you to plop it into the increasing water. Watched your eyes widen at the gilded glitter spreading around. Spurred you to get in. Held your hand as you lifted one limb, then the other. Knelt by you as you engulfed yourself in the violet tinge, your hair swirling around you, silky and ethereal, coming to a stop at the top of your head to fix a splendid crown for such a princess like yourself.

Namjoon turned off the tap while you rested your back against the curved wall of the tub. You swooshed your hands around, gathering the glitter into the fine lines of your palms. Looked up at him in elation, the twinkle doing its thing in the glossiness of your eyes, and smiled. Namjoon smiled back at you. His hand reached out to your chest in a fervent need to touch you. The glitter adorned your chest with its perfect speckles and they resurfaced when you arched your back in response. Clung to his palm in the middle of your tits, held on tighter as he took a detour to your chin by brushing across your sensitive nipple to hear your little mewls because if he made a sound, then you must, too. Because if he was horny, he must get you on the same page as well. Fairness is very important to Namjoon.

He squeezed your breast hard. Pinched your nipple between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger in broken intervals, similar to little dashed lines of Morse code. You imagined he was telling you something through that secret language as you closed your eyes during an intense wave of pleasure coursing down your body, and perhaps he truly did because he pulled your legs apart harshly when you pressed them together. Punished you by lightly slapping your tit—the same one he abused with those firm touches—the force splashing you in the face with violet pearls. All as if you disobeyed the command he transmitted wordlessly.

The command possibly being: Only I will give you the release you need when I decide it’s time.

You bit your bottom lip to suppress the neediness erupting in you. Namjoon wrapped his hand around your throat and you dragged his rolled sleeve further up his arm, so it wouldn’t have gotten soaked in the water. He smeared your lip oil just because he wanted—just because he could, scattering the rosy tint around your mouth messily. He took advantage of the aftermath of his punishment and collected those tender beads, now translucent upon your carmine skin. Not with the thumb as you expected him to, but using the pillows of his lips, he kissed the round bulb on your cheek. It melted on the puffy surface when he withdrew. He looked you in the eye for a mere beat of time before he lowered to your other cheek to collect another trinket. None of the corners of your mouth were overlooked, not even the button of your nose. He peppered those kisses to erase the harshness of his selfishness, supporting your lifted chin with his long thumb beneath it, still sticky from the consistency of the lip oil, apologizing, smoothing down his sternness until you giggled.

Once he cleaned you, Namjoon returned the digit to your smudged mouth, delicious in his sight due to the essence of sloppiness that gets his length even harder in his pants. He presses the pad against it, already craving your tongue. You kissed it, a thank you for his softness, before you granted him the access. Tongue toying with the tip, you said hello in the mother language of the love stored in your bodies for each other. Wrapped both of your hands around his wrist. Didn’t break eye contact. Smiled, teeth showing happily, when he bit his lip, but soon got distracted by a small movement on his groin area out of your view.

You peeled your back off of the tub to curiously take a peek, but Namjoon pushed you back to your place. All while his thumb remained sucked by your mouth. You frowned at him, dismayed by his recurring roughness that you weren’t used to.

Namjoon tapped your cheek twice with his fingers to let you know it was enough and rose to his feet.

“Joon, what’s going on? Why are you so rough with me?” you asked, voice tender, the question shooting arrows into the wideness of his back.

Stopping in the doorway, he hung his head, fingers coming to intertwine with the short hair above his neck. “I’m sorry, baby. Let me get the book.”

A moment later, he returned with the stellar possession in one hand and a wooden chair in the other. He slumped against it, fingers finding the first chapter unwittingly.

You swam forward as if to the shore, propping your elbows on the rim to be closer to him.

“Is the water warm enough?”

You nod, your teeth picking at the excess skin on your lips. Namjoon notices and, as if registering the reason why you put on the lip oil in the first place, he leans towards you and rubs away the smudginess he caused. As if the walk into your dining room sobered him enough from the dark wine of his lust that he now regretted his actions.

“You really scared me when you were rough,” you said calmly, unafraid to uncover your feelings, knowing you’ll be caught now that you’ve jumped head-first into the hungry sea of honesty.

He apologizes again. Repeats it in the aphonic form of a deep chaste kiss.

“Won’t do it again,” he promises. “Unless you ask me to.”

Your lips form a smile, but it quivers into a straight line just as quickly as it appeared. The yet unknown cause behind his untypical behavior troubles you.

“Did something happen today at work?”

Namjoon sighs. “No, I’m just tired.”

“Just tired or tired of your job?” you try, tilting your head to the side, remembering this isn’t the first time quiet broodiness clutched his figure when the clock struck five.

“Both.” He kneads the heel of his palm against his eye. 

Not expecting his honesty, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It propels you to investigate further. Gives you the green light. Namjoon usually keeps to himself when it comes to work-related storms, holding respect that reaches the bottom of his heart for those above him and for his peers as well.

“Did someone make you upset?” you ask, paving your way in this inquiry to the realm of understanding so you can help him. At least in a small way.

He drops his hand, gazes up the ceiling to stare at a fixed point. Perhaps he’s looking for words, perhaps he’s avoiding the question altogether. The regret of your prying swallows you. You’re afraid you’ve overstepped a boundary. 

You reach out your arm, wrapping wet fingers around his wrist on his lap. The gesture says, ‘you don’t have to tell me but I’m here,’ and you squeeze the limb to emphasize that. As if he heard you, he looks down at you. His eyes that are usually narrowed into slits now round in tenderness. The swallowing lets go, the lump that threatened to obstruct your throat disappears.

“It’s Friday, Joonie, and you can forget about your job for a little while. It’ll get better,” you say, caressing his soft skin.

To your another surprise, Namjoon nods. Slips his fingers into the hollowness between yours, squeezing back, saying, ‘I hear you.’ Your heart jumps with gladness that you haven’t made a mistake, that instead your reassurement made a difference.

To lighten up the atmosphere, you begin to joke around.

“Should I beat them up?” You raise your brow in mischief, a goofy smile coating your face in lightheartedness.

A grin cracks on his face. “Don’t get your hands dirty for me, baby.”

You scoff, half-seriously and half-unseriously shaking your head at his eagerness to please but never letting himself be pleased. “But I want to. I’ll do it for you.”

Namjoon shakes his head as well. Leans over to you. Cradles your head in his hands and kisses you. Picks the hair plastered on your face and puts it away. You forget all of your jokes for a moment, breathless. Your neediness nudges you in your sensitive parts, reminding you of its lingering presence. 

“Come on, Joonie,” you coo, prolonging the vowels, the best you could come up with considering his allure, “I’ll fight them,” you start to construct your imaginary plan, the dimples adorning his face making it a bit harder for you to get the words out, “then, they’ll be scared of me and they won’t bother you again. Because if they do, I’ll smash their fucking teeth in. And then… then, you’ll get your peace for good. Easy.”

Namjoon listens with his features bathed in enamoredness, seemingly lost in a deep thought. A twinkle, a twin to yours, glistens in his eyes. Dimples out provoking you, he softly smiles at you. Coyly. He’s unaccustomed to being the one fought for. He’s always been the one who fights. The one who settles, resolves, makes things right. He’s never been the person these things are done for by another person. It makes his heart pulsate in a strange new rhythm. 

He stretches out his hands and runs his fingers through your hair. Begins to plait an intricate braid down your back, keeping you caged in the confines of his arms. Safe. Protected. His warrior princess.

“There’s something else you can do for me,” he mumbles, finished with your braid. Now your hair is away from your face, just like he needs it for what he’s about to do.

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow in question, your smirk growing on the side of your face. “Like what?”

“I’m so hard for you, baby,” he whispers into your ear, shoulders hunched, lips tracing the edge of your earlobe. A secret just between the two of you. “My body’s confused. I need a release.”

Even though you saw it coming, even though you saw it a hundred times before, you can’t help but gasp at his desperation, bare and open before you. It’s a new experience each time. Thrilling and titillating, the vividness and ferocity of his sexuality. It causes a flock of playful butterflies to buzz you with electricity in your tummy and a shiver to run down your spine. You feel your own neediness making itself known again and you squeeze your thighs together. 

This is the Namjoon you know. Strong in his softness. Mellow. Intense. The Namjoon who showed you plain roughness was a stranger to you, one you could take the time to get to know, because now you understand that the incentive to act like he did was his frustration from work. You can’t really blame the natural inclination of his body—his body that is yours to love in all shapes or forms.

You perceive he needs to let out some steam—he said so himself. Proud of him for voicing it out, a decision to be his helper already makes a way to your heart. You no longer feel slivers of consternation slithering in your veins. Knowing the cause, knowing it’s still your Namjoon helps you submit to the call of his needs. If a dab of roughness is what entails the sand-speckled footpath to the seaside of his well-being, you’ll take it. Welcome it, even. Within the realm of your established boundaries, that is. 

“Can I see?”

The book falls to the floor with a thud. Namjoon stands up. 

Ever so eager. Responding to his body language out of pure instinct, you hum and lift yourself to your knees. The outline of his engorged length, tight in his pants, greets you and you will your brain not to tell your fingers to rub your swollen clit. To busy your hands, you grip the rim until white brushes along your knuckles.

Emerging from the water, it left you smothered in a luster of wet silkiness. Namjoon’s eyes rake over your bare femininity. Heavenly, pure, seraphic. Groans a little loud. Doesn’t know whether to touch you first or his painfully hard and heavy member. You move your body to the side wall of the tub and he follows you, hand opting for his girth to relieve himself a little bit. 

You sit prettily on your folded legs and lean over, pulling his wrist away. You plant a dewy kiss to the middle of his clothed length and look up at him, just at the right time to catch him whimpering. Your clit pulses again and you feel like crying, needing release as much as he does. He doesn’t make it easy for you, making sounds like that.

“What does my baby girl need me to do?” you ask, stroking his member while stifling your giggles at the title that fits him so well. 

“Baby girl?” He frowns down at you. 

It’s usually what he calls you, hence why his confusion. And you call him by an entirely different title, too.

A giggle does escape your mouth after all. You squeeze at his tip, drawing those delicious whimpers out of him again.

“Only needy little baby girls make sounds like that. You are needy, aren’t you?” You lick that sensitive part, palming his balls. 

Namjoon whines. 

The shift of dynamics, the change of titles ever so dizzying to the mind. He doesn’t even have the strength to correct you. 

He grips the back of your head and moves you away from his cock. Then the realization he’s being rough again wafts over him and he softens his hold, fallen stray hairs coming to rest at your temples. Namjoon tucks them behind your ear. Taps you on the cheek once.

“Get to sucking off your baby girl,” he rasps. 

You smile. Find it immensely attractive that he’s embracing the pet name while still being dominant. A masculinity in its true form.

“You can be rough with me if you want to,” you say, wanting to make that clear. “I think I can handle it.”

Namjoon traces the shell of your ear with his thumb, pondering.

“Just don’t hit me, okay?” 

He says your name sternly, as if you offended him. “I would never deliberately hurt you. How can you think that?” 

“No, I meant—” You lick your lips. “Don’t slap my boobs or anything. You can spank me, I like that. But don’t be as rough with me as you were. Can we take it slow? Is that okay?”

He stares at you for a moment.  

“Do you trust me?”

You nod, turning your head to press a kiss into his palm. “Yes, I trust you.”

“I’ll teach you, then. We’ll take it slow,” he says, fingers stroking the side of your cheek, where a small amount of fluff creates a path for him to lay down his silent love on. “It was a mistake on my part for not preparing you for it, and for that I’m sorry. But I’ll teach you. Show you how good it is.” He pauses. “Until you beg me for it.”

Your throat dries up. The pulsing in your cunt unbearable. 

“Fuck, Namjoon. Save the talk or I’ll come on the spot.” 

“The talk is important,” he reprimands you. “Whether you come or not without my permission is your problem.” 

“Shit,” you whimper, gripping his hand on your cheek. You tighten your hold as if to brattily change his mind on having this kind of control over your orgasm because you need to come as soon as possible. And not just once. You’re sure your dewiness is leaking into the water. 

“No bad words or I’ll fuck your filthy mouth.” 

You gasp. So unused to this side of him. But it turns you on, now that you feel safe. Turns you unstable.

“Say you’re sorry.”

You’re tumbling out the words before he’s even finished with his sentence. “I’m so sorry.”

He beams at your immediate submission, purring at the quintessence of your compliance. Wants more. “Who are you apologizing to?” 

You pause. His usual title almost slips off of your tongue. But since this is new and you’re both experiencing a new dynamic that causes you to feel so playful, that guides you ever so gently and carefully into the kingdom of subspace, you opt for the pet name that suits him well. “To my baby girl,” you say, laughing softly. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.” 

He laughs as well, the sound a deep rumble in his chest. You’re giddy that you’re allowed to be wild, your inner child healing and quivering within you. You overflow with the desire to kiss him.

“What for?”

He wants you to say the full sentence. You take a deep breath. 

“Baby girl, I’m so sorry for having a filthy mouth and saying bad words.”

“Hm, do you regret it?” 

You almost curse again. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry for being bad.”

“Good. Get to work, then,” he says. “Make that mouth useful.”

Fuck.

“Kiss me first, please. Make it better,” you beg, fluttering your eyelashes at him. 

Namjoon moans and you bite your lip. Bends and sucks it between his, deepening the kiss as he opens your jaw and slips his tongue inside. Massages the muscle against yours. Makes those sounds again. Palms his cock. Withdraws with a pop. 

You mewl in satisfaction. That kiss alone ruined you. 

“Good girls get kisses.” Hand under your chin, he squishes your cheeks. “You’ve been exceptionally good. I’m gonna destroy you.” 

He kisses you again with the same intensity but briefly, inhaling your skin. No tongue this time. 

Cheeks awash with rosiness, you hastily unbuckle his belt. Not to cut time and get to his promise faster—on the contrary, you’re dying to pleasure him. He doesn’t help you like he normally does; he merely watches you as you pull down the cotton material of his slacks along with his boxers down his muscular thighs. Only when you wrap your lips around his cock from the side does he throw his head back. Thrusts his hips. 

He’s rock hard. The weight of him makes you absolutely fucked out.

Namjoon likes you there so he keeps you still—there in the middle of his girth. You moan, producing as much saliva as you can to gratify him while he uses your mouth, alternating between keeping those pillows firm and soft. When he gets you to his tip, he expects you to swallow him, but you merely move your head from side to side rapidly, flicking your tongue. Namjoon groans lowly, a string of curse words spilling from his throat. His precum drops onto your chin and you suck in a breath, horny beyond your mind.

You swipe your index finger to collect it. Check if he’s watching before you plunge the digit into your mouth. Roll your eyes back as the tanginess overwhelms your senses. Namjoon hisses. Grabs your braid as if it were a ponytail. Kisses you, aching to be one with you. You feel the vibrations of his fervid mania in unity with him like this and it echoes down your body once he pulls away. 

“Take it in your mouth.” 

Namjoon holds it at the base for you and you find the long vein that you favor so much. Pepper kisses along the length of it, feeling it throb in tandem with your clit. Straightening your spine, you bite your lip. Give him an utter look of adoration before you swipe your tongue along the slit. Humming in delight, you slip him into your mouth. Your cheeks hollow and you begin to bob your head, fingers following your movement, bumping into his fist. Tears pool in your eyes when you dare to inch closer to his hand and even though you gag, you try your hardest to keep him nice and tucked in your warm throat. You sputter and cough, swallowing around him, because you deem he deserves it, knowing how much he loves it when your flesh contracts around him like that, and Namjoon groans deeply. It fills you with a dose of satisfaction almost akin to an orgasm, the lack of oxygen in your brain heightening the experience so much that your head spins. 

“Such a good girl,” he whispers. “Breathe, baby.”

He slips out of your mouth. Pats you on your head before he sinks his fingers into your hair, gripping at the roots. Ascertains you pay attention to him. 

“Don’t do that again,” he says, softly. “You need to breathe. Take a deep breath with me.”

You’re still on your knees and he’s merely looking down at you. You fold your hands on your lap. Your mind is so empty that you’re not sure how you feel right now, having been entirely focused on his pleasure. 

Namjoon inhales deeply with his nose and you do the same.

Inhale, exhale. 

Fondly, he caresses you on your cheek.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you explain yourself, thinking that you should.

“I know, baby, and you did. It’s okay, I’m not mad at you.” He smiles at you. “You hear me? I’m not mad at you.”

You nod your head yes. Pout. 

“You feeling okay? Take a deep breath for me again.” 

You do as he says, your senses returning to you like a warm spring wind. 

“Better now?”

You nod again.

“Words.”

You wet your lips with your tongue. “Yes, I feel better now.”

“Good. Do you still wanna continue?”

“Yes, Namjoon. I wanna make you come.” 

Almost like you flipped a switch, his eyes darken. 

“Hands behind your back,” he rasps. 

You oblige, crisscrossing your wrists below the dimples on your lower back.

“‘Atta girl. Back to work, come on.” 

It’s much harder to do so without your hands, especially in the position you’re in. You hesitate.

“I don’t know if I can,” you admit. 

He tuts in pity. “Should I use you then?”

You roll your eyes back, the idea intoxicating your body. You feel woozy. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Focus on your breathing, okay?” 

“Yes, Namjoon.”

Humming, Namjoon grabs your hair gently and sinks your mouth down on his cock, moves you up and down slowly. You focus on not just sucking in your cheeks but also on breathing through your nose like he told you, although you can’t help but moan around him. It turns you on how he manhandles you to his liking so delicately. You swirl your tongue around his tip once he wants you there and you let out a series of whines and whimpers. He keeps you there for a little longer, moaning after you, the sounds creating a paradisiacal symphony. You twist your head in half circles as you continue sucking him, slobbering all over him, using your tongue to flick beneath the mushroom. 

“So good, baby. Yes, fuck.” Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re gonna make me come.” 

You pull away, but a string of saliva still connects you to him. 

He blinks at you. “You want a spanking?” 

You run the tip of your tongue along the top of your lip, giving him the eyes. Cock your eyebrow at him. Namjoon draws a sharp breath in. 

He leans over. One hand tugs at your braid firmly to arch your back over the edge of the tub. The other smacks you sharply on your ass cheek, smoothing over the sting. You moan, nipples rubbing over the cold surface, curse words dying on your tongue. Namjoon grips the flesh, spanks you again. Skims his fingers over your exposed heat. Repeats it on the other cheek, twice in a row. You wiggle your hips, needing to feel more, needing him to touch you right there between your legs. You cry out into his ear.

Letting go of your braid, Namjoon kisses you beneath your jaw. Slides his tongue along the sensitive spot, sucking it between his lips. A secret message that he hears you, that he’ll fuck your needy cunt soon.

“Think you’ll be a good girl for now?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you nod a few times. Not a single rational thought passes through your brain. 

Namjoon straightens. Pulls down his foreskin for you. “Spit on it.” 

You watch as your liquid love trickles down and lands on his tip. He hums and surprises you by wrapping your hands around his girth, spreading down the lubrication with you. You feel the ridges and the thick vein in a new, vehement way and even though you’re not the one pleasured, you moan. The simple up and down movement grows in rapidness that your body follows, emulating the effort, making it seem like you’re bouncing on a dick. Your ass splashes the water around, creating tender waves full of love, inherited from your still leaking dewiness. 

His hands are so warm enclasped around yours, pressed tight. Not once unclenching.

You start blabbering. 

“You’re so big. I can’t even wrap my hand around you.” You make sure to look him in the eyes as you say it. “So big in my mouth, too. Could barely fit you.” 

Your words set those twilit embers in his eyes on fire. His breathing quickens. He’s close again and you’re stunned, once more, by the vividness of his sexuality. Your hands go limp in his grasp.

“Nuh-uh, keep up the pace,” he husks. “Thought I was your little baby girl?” 

You shake your head, willing your hands to gain strength again, but it has no source to draw from. “Not anymore.”

Namjoon chuckles, darkly. Notices your movements fluctuating, arms shaking. “Tired?”

You nod and he unclasps his hands. You twist your wrists in circles to alleviate them from a cramp. 

Then, you get an idea.

Sitting back on your heels, you arch your back. Tip your chin down and spit on your chest, the essence flowing down the pathway between your breasts. You do it again, though this time you spread it on your skin. 

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon mumbles. Unbuttons his shirt. You squeeze your nipples with both hands as your eyes flick to his, then down to his exposed chest. “How are you gonna address me, huh? What’s my name?”

He forcefully tugs the fabric off of his arms, tossing it on the floor. His body—with its vulgar beauty, broadness and definition—takes your breath away. You don’t let it show, or perhaps you pretend that you don’t because you allow your hand to travel down your stomach. Namjoon imitates you, running his fingers down the chiseled muscles that make you drool. He stops at the hair adorning his pelvis. You don’t.

You rub circles on your clit instead.

“Daddy,” you cry out in pleasure, announcing his title—his rightful, most fitting title. Face contorting at the brisk, blooming flashes of sensuality rising up your form.

His body tenses. It’s like he’s stopping himself from reaching for you, pulling you out of the bathtub and spanking you until your bottom resembles the water. Or tugging at his length until he paints you white with his cum. 

You make it easy for him. 

Lifting your body, you step over the edge of the bathtub. Kneel at his feet on the fluffy black mat. Far enough for him to see purple liquid pearls make their way down to your cunt. Far enough for him to see how you resume those circles on your bundle of nerves, fingers reaching to your hole for lubrication. You roll your hips into your hand, arm propped behind you.

“What’s this show?” Namjoon rasps, his cock twitching. “I don’t remember giving you permission to touch yourself. You wanna end up with zero orgasms?”

You pause. 

“That’s what I thought,” he says. “I believe you have unfinished work to do.” 

You smile mischievously. “You want it bad, don’t you?” 

Namjoon nods. Holds out his hand. “Come to Daddy.”

Exuberantly, you leap into his arms. Namjoon throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing and walks into your shared bedroom. Sets you down on your bed, spreading your legs, and he crouches between them, reaching into his bedside table for the tool that he wants. 

The aroma of strawberries lovingly boops you on the nose. Namjoon squirts a good amount of lubrication on your chest, paying special attention to the pathway in the middle of your breasts. He massages it in, incorporates your sensitive nipples in the preparation, coaxing whimper after whimper out of you by squeezing them and rolling them between his long fingers.

“I’m gonna make a mess,” you say, grinding your hips against nothing.

Namjoon clicks his tongue. “Already?” 

Your dewiness oozes out of you onto the bedding. To prove your point, you lean back on your elbows and lift your knees, revealing your dripping hole and the shine of your soaked folds. Namjoon stares at your cunt but doesn’t touch, doesn’t blink. He bites his lip. Flicks his eyes to yours. 

He kisses the middle of your tummy. Moves over to your heat. Licks a tiny stripe on your clit.

You cry out.

“Namjoon!”

Hands on either side of your waist, crawling up to you, he growls. “Good girls are patient, aren’t they?” 

He doesn’t wait for your response. 

“They take what is given to them and they finish what they started,” he continues. “Don’t they?”

You nod.

“And you are a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl.” 

“Then thank your Daddy for what he gave you.” 

Your walls squeeze around nothing when you hear him utter his title. It refreshes your body with energy. 

“Thank you, Daddy.” You smile. 

Namjoon kisses you, rewarding you.

“Sit up.”

Changing the layout, it’s Namjoon who reclines halfway on the bed while you sit perched on your knees between his legs, cock in your face. He spurts the lube on his length and jerks himself off, his skin shining in the abrupt spillage of burnt-orange sunlight from the window. Watches your eyes round in astonishment similarly to the way they did earlier when you had gazed upon the glitter swarming around you. 

He nods at you, giving you the green light, and you sheathe his girth into the tightness of your squished tits. You may start a face pace from the get go, fucking him into oblivion, but all Namjoon sees is the whites of your eyes, the glimmer, the pure enjoyment of what you’re doing while the rest of you is immersed in subdued late afternoon shadows. Sweat glistens on the planes of his face, dribbling down to the strained column of his neck.

It’s intense. So intense that he can’t vocally react. 

Precum appears once more on his mushroom, displaying his arousal, and you slurp it up, the braid coming undone—your hair falling around you like a curtain. 

It’s brutal. It’s wet. 

Namjoon gathers your hair to the side in a makeshift ponytail and leans over to be closer to you. Needs you like this. Feels his relief catching up to him the more effort you put in, the more you stick out your tongue to flick at that sensitive part of him whenever you can. 

“Want your come. So bad. Want it all over me,” you whisper, and that’s it for him. 

“Say please,” he murmurs, and it’s barely a sound, but you hear him. 

“Please, Daddy, come for me.” 

Pulling your hands away, Namjoon takes charge. Fucks your tits in frenzy, your hair, now half dry, tickling your skin. With his thumbs, he stimulates your nipples to coax those little sounds of yours and—

“Play with your pussy,” he commands. “But don’t come. Tease yourself like you teased Daddy.”

The relief on your face inches him closer to his. He hears the wetness as you dip a finger in, your walls sucking it in. He hears your breath get stuck in your throat. The slow crescendo of your moans. Suddenly, he hears himself too. 

Whiny, desperate, so unlike himself.

It’s a fortress of safety, his forehead on top of yours. His nose bumping against yours. Open mouth ghosting over the sounds of your well-deserved pleasure. It’s a safe place for him to come in.  

And he does. 

Ropes upon ropes of come color you ivory white, color you clean. The reversal of a coloring book—changing the lines, changing the scheme, changing your life. 

You milk him dry, your pussy long forgotten. Milk him until he pushes you away, chest heaving, unable to catch his breath. You just watch him, his seed hot on your chest. Glittery. And not just there. On your neck, on your chin, in the wavy strands of your hair. 

You’re in awe of him. You can see the pressure leaving him like a ghost slinking out of the window. 

Namjoon takes off his glasses. With two fingers, he collects as much of his essence as he can and plunges them into your mouth. The other hand rests on the crook of your neck, thumb protectively over your throat. “Swallow.”

Not for long. Namjoon throws you on the bed. Doesn’t waste time.

He laps up your pussy, clit to hole, sucking your labia into his mouth. He does it again, but this time he travels a bit further. Clit, hole, ass. Tongue flat. Your screams are muffled by the rumpled bedsheet you grip.

Going back to your leaking hole, he circles the flesh before he dips the tongue in. Wraps his arms around your ass to control your squirming, feeling the dip of your spine as the sunlight kisses it. Dust particles spiral in the air—Namjoon sees it. The dark grey curtain keeping half of the world shrouded in dimness while the other illuminated, a picture cut in a heart shape due to the deliciousness of your ass. 

Fuck, Namjoon longs to play with it again. 

He spits on it, rubbing the saliva around it before he slides his tongue back into your wet hole. Says hello to it—long time no see—teases it, before he dips his thumb in. You arch your back even more, welcoming the intrusion, and Namjoon kisses your pussy lips as a thank you. He quivers with the craving to fuck you right there in your ass, but knows better than to do it. You’re not ready for it. 

Spreading you more open, while keeping his thumb there in that sweet place, he begins to focus on your poor little clit. Swirls his tongue around it firmly, sucking it until your back trembles—goes up and down like a seesaw. The kisses he leaves there are obscene, loud, full of thankfulness that he gets to play with you. Full of love for you that he burns bright with—that propels him to flick his tongue harder. And full of joy that his stress is gone. Joy that you’ve been the helper unscrewing the steel body of heaviness off of his because, as of now, his bones feel lighter.

“You’re so good for me.” He smacks his lips against your cunt. “Fucking Daddy like that when he needed you.” 

Vigorously, he rubs his face against you, shaking his head from side to side. You stretch your fingers behind you and helplessly grip the back of your thighs. Namjoon catches one of your hands, holds it with his free four fingers, sucking your clit. 

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers, withdrawing to pay attention to your other hole, missing it. Abuses it once he spits on it, eating it, dipping his tongue in with ease since he stretched you. Fucks you there in the only way he can. 

“Wanna come?” he asks and as he waits for your answer, he goes lower to drink your freshness, not letting a drop go to waste. 

You’ve lost your voice screaming. “Yes, Daddy, please. I can’t hold it in anymore. Please, let me come,” you croak. 

Namjoon makes a sound of appreciation, proud of you for holding out for so long without saying anything.

“I think you can,” he says. Stuffs a finger into your dripping hole and lets you adjust for a moment. Adds another. “I think you can hold it while I count to ten.” 

His digits pump into you slowly. Kneeling by your side, he turns your head so you can see him, twisting your body into the position he wants. The curve of your back is so beautiful in his sight that he can’t help but run his free hand over the route that your spine has become. The route he wants to plant kisses on like flowers of various colors, adding to the coloring book, erasing the old. 

And he does. Begins at the nape of your neck. Picks up the speed.

“One.” 

You cry out. First before your tears rush out, pooling in your waterline. You clench your whole body in naive hope it would stall the orgasm, but it quickens it, squeezing his fingers in, so you relax your muscles. 

“Two.” 

A kiss to the first round protrusion of your spine. Shifting your weight to your shoulder, you take his cock into your hand. 

“Three.”

The middle of your shoulder blades. You hear your wetness oozing out of you, the relief prowling closer. You whine and Namjoon understands.

“Hold it or I’ll stop,” he whispers. “I can feel your pussy squeezing around my fingers. Relax.” 

You match your pace with his. Namjoon begins to pant. You feel his hot, heavy breath beneath your shoulder blades. 

“Six.” 

Ass shaking from the force, he jackhammers into you. Pulls out for a moment to spank you, a merciful gesture, before he’s back in. Leaves a wet fingerprint on your skin.

“Eight.”

The last protrusion of your spine. You silence your moans by pressing your hand against your mouth because they bring you closer to your orgasm, however Namjoon yanks your arm away. 

“Make those pretty sounds for me, come on,” he huffs, kissing both of those dimples on your back. “Ten. Come. Come for Daddy. Come all over his hand.”

And you do.

It’s a paradise, the heat closing in on you. The loss of hearing, the muted ringing, resembling the flap of a bird’s wing. The loss of surroundings as you’re momentarily transported somewhere entirely else. A gilded illustration, perhaps a lively projection. Something, somewhere, where all is good. The orgasm rips through you and the repetitive echo of his name leaving your mouth is what brings you back. Away from the storybook into a brand new coloring book.

Namjoon strokes your hair. 

He holds you in his arms, but something sticks you uncomfortably together. You peel yourself off of him and cringe. Strings upon strings of his come, gleaming with speckles of glitter, do not want you to leave. You sit on his thighs, resting your palms on his chest. 

He kisses you. “Are you okay?”

You nod with droopy eyelids. 

He carries you into the shower and makes a way for all colors of the rainbow to perfuse your body. To create a new storyline for the day, for the week, for the month. Reds and pinks show their faces first in the steam, and even though Namjoon is glad to see them, he looks forward to meeting the rest. To learning their objectives so he can fulfill them. 

Grabbing the yellow book on the way back to the bedroom, Namjoon makes himself comfortable beside you. Is careful not to touch your face out of habit because you have a face mask on; careful not to bump into you either because you have a plate of mozzarella and sliced tomatoes on your lap. He kisses your hair, though. Doesn’t have the strength to fight internally—grabs your jawline and ever so slowly and heedfully, he kisses you, fingers finding the first chapter unwittingly. 

“When Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from troubled dreams, he found himself changed into a monstrous cockroach in his bed.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[daisyofwaterdeep]

DAISY OF WATERDEEP SAVE ME DAISY OF WATERDEEP. i donr know if commissions are open hell i dont know if you even TAKE commissions but i am BEGGIBG YOU. WITH MY WHOLE HEART AND SOUL FOR A PART TWO OF THAT CAUGHT ROLAN FIC. you get rolan better than literally everonelse PLSSS. (but for real dont feel pressured if you dont wanna write this just wanna say how amazing ur writting is 🤩)

Read part 1 here!

'Caught?' Part 2

Rolan/femcis!Reader !NSFW!

__ You're not really sure what the entire game plan is here, but you know that you have one goal in mind: to rile Rolan up.

After the events of the previous day, you know that riling him up is easy. But getting him to act-- well, that seems like it's going to be a real challenge. One that you're not sure you'll be able to pull off, but damned if it's not going to be fun to try.

You take longer than usual getting ready for work. Hair, nails, makeup-- you primp and preen yourself to perfection before shimmying into one of your favorite date-night dresses. It's modest by some standards, but the low-cut neck and cinched waist do plenty to accentuate your assets, and you're sure it won't go unnoticed by a certain wizard.

You step into Sorcerous Sundries to start your shift, your plan in motion the instant Rolan's eyes fall on you.

"Good morning!" You wave at him from his place up the stairs.

You're grateful for the glow of his eyes, because it makes it all too easy to see them drag down the length of your body from this distance.

"Morning." He returns curtly before going back to fussing with an animated armor.

You frown at the back of his head, displeased with the lack of reaction. You'll have to try a little harder, it seems.

You saunter around the counter and ascend the stairs, lifting the length of your dress to the side so you don't trip.

"What are you doing?" You ask as you approach Rolan, his hands pulsing with a dim light as they roam over the armor's breast plate.

His eyes dart over to you for a moment, and you don't miss how they flick down to your cleavage for a split second before returning to his task.

"Some minor upgrades to security."

"Ooh, like what?" You close the distance between the two of you, standing at his side as he works.

The flowing movement of Rolan's arms become jerky and stiff as you lean forward, giving him a whiff of your perfume.

"I'm j-just--" Rolan clears his throat and ends the spell wordlessly, the glow wreathing his hands dissipating. "Can I help you with something?"

"Sorry," You say innocently, taking a step back and folding your hands behind your back, "Am I distracting you?"

Rolan turns his head to address you properly, and you swear that you can physically see him fighting the urge to look at your tits. And is it just a trick of the light, or do his cheeks look a deeper red right now?

"Yes, a bit." Rolan's words are as tight as his expression.

"Sorry," you say again, "I'll just ask then....would you be willing to cast a water repellent spell on me?" You jerk your head towards the door, "I think it's getting ready to storm, and I didn't bring my umbrella..."

"It should pass by the end of your shift."

"Probably, but I have to sign off on a shipment coming in from the docks before then."

Rolan's eyebrows raise before setting into a scowl. "No. You can't go to the docks."

"What?" You blink at him, "Why not?"

"Because--" Rolan's eyes dip down to your cleavage before snapping back up, "B-because those men down there are uncouth."

"I've signed off on plenty of shipments," You insist, "You never objected then."

"Yes, well, I didn't want you to do it those other times either." Rolan is talking fast, his voice hard with annoyance. "And I definitely can't have you going down there dressed like--" He manages to stop his words, but not his eyes. They stutter down to your tits again, and it's just then that he realizes that his hands are still on the enchanted armor-- splayed out on the breast plate, like he's groping it. He jerks his hands back like it's burned him, and he hurriedly straightens up. "Just...let me do it."

"Wait wait," You wag your finger accusatorily at him, other hand on your hip, "Dressed like what, exactly?"

Rolan is obviously uncomfortable. There's no denying the deep blush on his cheeks now, and his fingers pick over the front of his robes in search of something to do.

"Nothing." He finally says, flinging a hand in the air as if to bat away the conversation. "I'll finish the upgrades after we open."

Rolan makes to walk past you, but you grab his arm.

"You can't be the one to storm away," You're not really sure what more you're expecting to get out of him, but you're not ready for your button-pushing to stop. "Not when you're the one who insulted me."

"Insult you?" Rolan scoffs and shakes his arm out of your grasp, as if that too is burning him. "It was a compliment, if anything."

You can feel your cheeks prickle at that, but you maintain your faux grumpiness. "Not by any standards that I know of."

"Take it however you want. I have things to do." Rolan begins marching down the stairs, his back to you. "Scrolls and...tomes..."

He continues mumbling his oh-so busy yet oh-so vague list of things to do until he's well out of earshot. You watch as he walks, controlled and stiff, towards the supply room.

Already? You thought it'd be nearly impossible to get him back in there, but it seems that he's easier to break than you had anticipated. It really makes you rack your brain-- Rolan has a habit of ending conversations whenever he feels like it, but just how often did those conversations lead him to the supply room? You should have paid more attention...

Either way, this is your chance to corner him. To confront him. You need to act fast.

Holding the bottom of your dress up, you descend the stairs two at a time, heart hammering and adrenaline spiking.

By the time you make it to the supply room door, you feel like a sweating wreck. Part of you wants to use it as an excuse to turn back, but you dab the sheen of sweat away with your sleeve and fan your arms in an attempt to cool down.

This is it. You got this. You can do this.

As calm as you can manage, you lean your ear against the door and listen.

"Stupid....stupid..."

There's no accompanying noises, just the sad, frustrated quiver of Rolan's voice.

It's heartbreaking, yes, but also perfect for your idea. You have no clue how well it'll work, but there's only one way to find out.

You open the door, heart in your throat as you step into the dim room. There's no windows in the storeroom, only torches that dot the wall at even intervals. It seems Rolan has forgone lighting them, instead casting a set of dancing lights that float up above, giving the room a warm, shifting glow.

"Rolan?" You call, spotting his figure a ways into the room, his body turned partially from you and his forehead against a shelf of potions.

As soon as you call out, he straightens himself and whips around, the enchanted lights nearly flickering out in his surprise.

"What?" He barks, reminding you all too much of a cornered animal lashing out.

You step into the room and close the door, buying yourself time to choose your words carefully.

"...I'm sorry." You walk towards him and stop a few feet away, just enough to clearly see his face. "I know you didn't mean anything bad with your comment." Rolan is still visibly guarded, so you add on, "I won't go to the docks, if you don't want me to."

Rolan's lips tighten and he gives you a long, silent look before turning to his side and fussing with the bottles on the shelf, clearly doing nothing of importance but trying to appear that he is.

"Forget it. I was being childish." He pretends to be heavily invested in the label of an elixir before setting it down with a clack. "Let me know when you're about to leave, I'll cast the spell on you then."

You take another step closer, "Rolan, are you upset with me?"

He scoffs, casting an incredulous look at you as he straightens a row of healing potions. "Of course not." He picks up another bottle and swirls the liquid around as his voice dips into something more conversational, though you detect the prying edge in his words, "So what's the occasion, anyways?"

You take in a deep breath, stomach tumbling as if you're in free fall as you say a single, simple word.

"You."

Rolan freezes, his glowing eyes wide as they stare sightlessly at the shelf, not daring to drag them over to you. You can't begin to imagine the thoughts that are flying through his mind right now.

A few moments pass like that, and it's clear that he doesn't plan to move or respond. He's waiting for you to continue, to inevitably add more to the conversation that will prove him wrong on what he's thinking, or maybe even to exclaim that it's a joke.

You take another deep, steadying breath. "I wanted your attention."

"....Alright." Rolan says carefully, finally turning away from the shelf to face you directly. He looks nervous, lips twitching and eyes restlessly darting. But you can tell-- it's not all just nerves. There's a layer of excitement there, too. His wandering eyes finally lock onto yours, and his voice lowers, barely audible yet still booming in your ears with the weight of it. "You have it. Now what?"

It's a clear invitation. Rolan wants you to take control of this situation-- maybe he's scared to overstep your boundaries, or maybe he's not entirely convinced that you actually want him. Judging by the things you've heard him say to himself, you suspect that it's a terrible blend of the two.

But that's fine, because you're going to show him just how much he's worthy of you.

Slowly, deliberately, you reach up and put a hand on his chest. You push him lightly, and he obediently steps backwards once, twice, then his back connects with the shelf with a clatter of clanking glass. Rolan doesn't blink-- his eyes are trained on you, almost like he's challenging, begging you to do more.

"Am I allowed to touch you?" You trace a fingertip over the intricacies of his silver shoulder piece, head tilted up to keep your eyes on his.

"Yeah," Rolan nearly groans out the word before he wets his lips and you see his adam's apple bob as he swallows, "I mean...yes."

"Where?"

"Gods," Rolan breathes, the points of his teeth shining in the dim light as he pants, "Please, don't tease me..."

"Sorry," You grin up at him, conveying the exact opposite, "You're just really cute right now...I didn't know you could be so docile."

"Docile?" He lets out a sharp exhale from his nose and you swear that his lips pucker out just the slightest, "I am not docile."

"Yeah?" You run your hands down his chest, loving the way the ridges of his ribs make your fingers jump. Rolan sucks in a breath and you can feel the muscles of his stomach tighten and quiver as your hands continue down. "Prove it."

Rolan's nostrils flare at that, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he looks you over. He wants to do something, that much is clear, but his nerves are still holding him back. So you decide to give him one last little push.

You raise up on your toes, bringing your mouths closer together, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips-- but only for a moment, because he holds in his next breath as your breasts press against his chest.

"Don't you want me?"

It's enough to finally break him. Rolan's hands grab your hips with a surprising, bruising strength as his head dips forward, his mouth hot and devouring against yours.

You feel naive to have thought that you were the one in control. His mouth is dominating, rolling against yours with an intoxicating mixture of passion and inexperience. You try to match his vigor but struggle to sync up with him, so instead, you submit. You let Rolan lick and suck and kiss you however he pleases, your head swimming with the hot slickness of his tongue and the rough, hungry drag of his teeth.

It's overwhelming in the best way, and it only gets better when his hands find your chest. His groping is more gentle than his kissing, but you can still feel the bite of his claws as he lifts your tits to enjoy the weight of them in his hands, kneading and pressing them together as he moans into your mouth.

Even though both of you are fighting for air when he finally pulls back, you can't help but whine and try to follow his mouth, not ready for him to stop.

"Gods, so soft, every bit of you..." His lips glisten with saliva and his eyes are burning as he squeezes your tits hard to accentuate his point, hungrily watching as the line of your cleavage swells.

"You haven't gotten to feel every bit of me," You take the opportunity to do some groping of your own, feeling along the lithe strength of his arms, then the taper of his chest to his waist "At least, not yet."

Rolan swallows roughly as your hands finally venture down his robes, feeling the taut muscles in his thighs. He spreads his legs immediately, welcoming your touch, and you can see the hard shape of his cock even through the layers of clothing.

"Poor thing," You coo sweetly, dragging your hands teasingly closer to it, "You're pent up, aren't you?"

Rolan's hands go to grip you by your upper arms as he begins panting again, each exhale holding the smallest shiver of a moan at the end. The sound is intoxicating, and it gets all the sweeter as you finally place a hand over his erection, fingers contouring to it's shape. Rolan's body reacts immediately and intensely to the light touch, trembling and bucking as he lets out a high, needy moan.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" You keep your eyes on him, loving the way he fights to do the same as his face twitches and his cock throbs against your hand, "You wanted me to touch you like this, right?"

"Yes, please, yes--" Rolan's voice tumbles into something nearing a cry as you press your palm down softly and begin to rub him through his robes, "Fuck, f-fuck--"

The shifting lights above flicker out just as Rolan's body curls inward in a rough jerk. In the darkness, you feel the weight of him nearly crumple to the floor before he stumbles into balance. His cock flexes against your hand in strong, desperate pulses as Rolan gasps around throaty groans, his claws digging into your arms.

"Fuck," He says again, but his voice is now wavering with embarrassment.

"Gods, Rolan..." You ease the pressure on his cock but don't remove your hand, hypnotized by the spent thumping of it against your palm, "You're so--"

"Please," Rolan cuts you off dismally, his fingers loosening their grip on you as you hear the shelf behind him rattle once more. "Spare me the niceties, I'm humiliated enough."

"Don't be." You press your body against his, once again standing on tiptoes to peck a kiss against his chin, then his neck. "I can't tell you how hot that was....wanting me so bad you couldn't control yourself." You kiss his neck once more, letting the tip of your tongue press against his skin for the briefest of moments, "I just wish I could've seen your face when you came."

Rolan's body shivers and relaxes the slightest bit as you kiss up his jaw before finding his mouth. Now that he's managed to calm down, you get to be the one to guide the kiss. It's tender, slow, the each of you relishing the feeling of the other. You could stand there all day, body pressed against him, lips together, breath entwining, but you know there's other matters that need to be attended to.

"Rolan," You pull away, pecking a kiss on the tip of his nose before finally stepping back, your hands finding his in the darkness. "It's probably time for the shop to open."

"Zurgan," Rolan hisses under his breath, "It probably is. But you-- I didn't get to--"

You know exactly what he's going to say and give his hands a squeeze. "Next time."

"Next time..." Rolan says the words with a sort of awe that makes you grin like an idiot. You hear him suck in a breath, and the hands in yours squeeze back. "Next time, certainly. I'll...take care of you. The way you deserve."

"I know you will." You raise his hand to your mouth and place a soft kiss on the back of his knuckles. "I'll open. You should probably change."

"Y-yes....thank you."

"We'll need the lights on first, though."

Rolan goes silent for a moment.

"Oh."

He gives your hands one last squeeze before releasing you, and you hear the rustle of fabric as he mutters a spell. The room lights up once more, the glowing orbs floating lazily above your heads.

Rolan looks at you, head turned down slightly and bottom lip trapped between his teeth. It looks like he has something to say, so you wait patiently, smiling at him to help ease his worries.

"I'm..." Rolan starts, stops, shakes his head, then starts again. "I've thought about you...I mean, I've wanted..." Rolan exhales sharply from his nose and shakes his head again before giving a shy smile. "I'm just very happy right now."

You can't help yourself. With a big, goofy grin, you raise up on your toes and kiss him again.

"Me too."

[princessmaybank]

New Message Part 2

Pairings: JJ x Virgin!Fem!BestFriend!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, virgin, p in v, oral (both), ETC.

Summary: Part 2 of New Message! All Smut! Enjoy!

Authors Note: If you haven't read part one yet, here you go-

New Message Part 1

"I can't believe we haven't done this before." JJ groaned out while guiding me up and down on his dick. I told him I really wanted to try it and he was absolutely for it. As long as I was comfortable. Woah, his dick felt so good inside of me. "Sorry Jayj, fucking my best friend wasn't exactly on my to-do list." He laughed. "to-DO list." I couldn't help but giggle a little as well, but it turned into a moan as he forced his hips up.

Before I was able to even think of forming a sentence he pulled me off of his lap and put me in a new position. He made sure I was comfortable with doing it, and swore up and down it will make me feel so good.

"Fuck JJ don't stop!" He had me in the doggy position, fucking the shit out of me. Now I know how it feels to have my hot, blonde haired, blue eyed, best friend take me from behind. He was pulling on my hair gently, because I wasn't sure about it at first, but now I know it adds to my excitement, and his.

It was absolutely impossible to think of anything while he was rearranging my guts. He kept making sure I was okay during the whole thing. If I wasn't comfortable with a position then he wouldn't pressure me. But I said yes to everything he suggested, obviously.

He made sure I was never going to forget this night. Making sure I'd probably never walk again as well. "I won't baby. Damn, your pussy is so fucking tight." He said through gritted teeth, pulling my hips backwards every second or two.

Before I knew it, he pulled out of me, and before I could even whimper, I felt a slick, cold, tongue swipe up my cunt. That was new and I definitely wasn't complaining. "Damn it JJ!" He giggled to himself before licking another stripe while I remained in the doggy position.

I don't remember when he flipped me on my back and sank between my legs, but he did. JJ has been fucking me with his tongue for at least 10 minutes now. You would think he would be tired from all of this, but damn that boy continues on. There was a time in those 10 minutes where he was sucking on my clit and that made me arch my back. I haven't been able to relax my back, which is saying something about JJ.

"Be a good girl and cum on my tongue." JJ said taking a second to breathe while looking into my eyes from down there. I moaned just from hearing that sentence. My climax was rising and I was nearly there, I just needed a littl-

"FUCK JJ" He stuck two fingers in me, pounding in and out of my little pussy, while sucking on my clit. That was enough to send me over the edge and he obviously knew I was there because he replaced his fingers with his tongue. He swallowed every last drop of me before coming up and giving me a long, heated kiss. I had never done what I was about to do, and I hope he helps guide me.

I got on my knees in front of JJ, slowly stroking him as his eyes stayed fixed on me. He let out deep sighs every few seconds, which wasn't enough for me to be honest. I took JJ's huge cock and licked from the base to the tip. This caused his head to roll back, which gave me enough time to slip my mouth onto him. "Shit- Y/N/N. I would've never guessed th-that this is your-" His breath hitches has I bob my head up and down with his hand gently pushing me up and down. He couldn't even go back to finish his sentence. JJ laid down while his legs were still off the bed. He just let me do what I wanted at this point, he let me experiment with his dick. I must've done a pretty good job sucking him off because he came in only two minutes and he had no complaints.

"I'm glad you answered my text" He heaved while cuddling me. "I'm so glad I did too." I smiled to myself as he gave me sweet little kisses on my neck. "Jayj-" "Yes Y/N/N?" He asked, sitting up slightly. "Thanks for being my first." I smiled back at him. JJ slumped back down and hugged me as tight as he could. "I've been waiting for you." He kissed my temple which caused a blush to rise to my cheeks. "Also, how is 7 at The Wreck tomorrow?" I looked at him confused. "For what?" "I'm asking you out silly." He poked my cheek and gave me a little peck. "7 is perfect." So is this moment.

[sadceline]

THE ENHYPEN HOST || 3

|| Reverse harem || ft. TXT, Mingyu (Seventeen) & BTS

PAIRING: FEM READER X ENHYPEN

WARNINGS: foul language, explicit content, group sex, humiliation, sex in public, threesome, foursoome, rough sex, red flags, immoral acts, unprotected sex, morbid jealousy, comedy, parody, possessiveness, violent quarrels, arguments, betrayals, lies, femdom sometimes.

GENTRE: +18, reverse harem, comedy, enemy to lovers, friends to lovers

SUMMARY: You moved to Seoul to start over after a bad experience, and everything seems to be going well, you even manage to work for HYBE. You discover, however, that you owe them almost a billion won, money you don't have and don't know how to recover: but don't worry because Hybe itself offers you a solution.

Your body in exchange for paying off your debt.

Do you accept?

PREVIOUS CHAPTER:

READ THE FIRST CHAPTER:

"I'll wait for you to sober up a bit." Sighs Jay, laying towels on my arms doorways toward him.

I sincerely laugh, visibly nervous. "They call you mr. kindness?

"Look at your condition, doing it now…. - he tells me, lowering his gaze as he strokes my cleavage exposed by the plunging neckline of my humble t-shirt with his index finger. - It would be so easy."

"I don't have to if I don't want to." I remind him, dazed, now less by the alcohol than by him.

My breath is suddenly short, even though I'm not looking at his face I can see his neck, his pronounced jaw, the way his skin fills with breath, puffing up his broad chest, even too much seen so closely.

"True, but since you won't be able to refuse for another four days, I'd really take it - he explains almost in a whisper, as his fingers move over my neck, then pick up strands of hair to tuck behind my ear - on the personal."

"Not… care."

"Do you really want to lose your only ally here? In fact, the strongest."

I smile amused, isn't she going to have inferiority complexes or something? The situation in the house didn't seem that desperate at all, but it's true that I haven't spent even twenty-four hours in here and Jay doesn't seem like a fool to me, though, I mean…

I suddenly lift my gaze: shouldn't I think better of it instead? After all, I'm going to sleep with someone else sooner or later anyway, and it's not certain that "this" is intended as a bargaining chip for others as well - so if there really was a strange situation in this apartment, I could at least think of myself with an ally.

"Do you understand? You will give weight to my words when you see it."

"What's going on? I can still … try to get out of it…."

"That made you give up so quickly? And I was trying to persuade you nicely." He grins in surprise.

I shift my eyes in embarrassment. "You're putting pressure on me."

"I know." He says, and his hands begin to slide down my exposed arms. His touch is slow and heavy, I can feel every millimeter of my body under his fingertips.

"T-Then stop doing that."

"I think I will - he says. - If that's the situation, I should just take advantage of it, right?"

How? How dare he? First he offends me, then he calls me an object practically, then he decides to take such liberties, like lifting my t-shirt a few inches from my bra, and in all this, I don't react. It's not the alcohol, I know.

I can smell him perfectly, it's not perfume, he smells like a man. He hasn't showered yet, probably, but his fragrance is aphrodisiac as it penetrates my nostrils and seems to engulf me in a spell.

And to say they make a lot of memes about his hygiene - if only they knew how untrue it is!

Jay grabs me by the hips, lifts me onto the sink. Before he kisses me he looks at me, perhaps still seeking my consent, but my eyes are already full of him and I don't care enough whatever he thinks of me to pull back. I'm the one who instinctively pushes my lips against his, he doesn't pull back either, instead he tightens his tapering fingers behind the back of my neck, pressing my head against his face.

He bites my lips, caresses my hips, kisses my neck. I barely catch my breath between kisses, he's especially passionate, I don't quite understand what's going on but I feel like I'm on fire, like I have a fever. Deep down, I didn't think I could ever be in a situation like this, realistically.

To be able to see the pores of his skin, to feel his touch, to know what his lips taste like, it's all simply divine.

"Are you at least good at it?" He whispers, pressing his mouth to my ear as he clings to the elastic of my black leggings.

"Let's hope so." A shy tone comes out in my voice.

I hear him chuckle, it's pleasant, I don't know why.

"Hold on to me." He says, handing me his shoulders to which I meekly cling, he uses the opportunity to slip off my pants, I am left in my underwear in seconds. He looks into my eyes, then at my breasts, I feel it even fuller and more beautiful under his eyes, then he places his hand on my hip, grasping it.

"Don't… look at me like that." I whisper with shame.

"I like it to the point of annoyance."

I stare at him, feeling like smiling but for some reason not following my instincts. "Really?"

"I don't tell lies."

He unhooks my bra and caresses my modest breasts with his cheek. He bites the nipple rather aggressively, to the point that I gasp in pleasurable pain, but he abruptly uses his tongue to treat the wound, and only confused, stifled moans come out of my mouth.

"Really? From now on," I say, bravely sinking my fingers into his hair, clutching him to my chest for him to keep licking, to make me gasp like this, "if you tell even one lie, I won't believe anything you've told me."

"The all-or-nothing rule is fallacious, you know?" He asks, amused, as he sucks my breast, squeezes it, massages it.

I am completely defeated, voluntarily surrendering to his will.

After taking me in his arms like I don't weigh, he pushes me against the wall. We kiss again, and I am increasingly addicted. His kisses are impetuous, his tongue is expert, moving slowly, and as a few drops of pleasure slip between my thighs I can feel his fingers exploring my intimacy.

He puts in only two but they are enough to make me gasp again. I cling as if desperately, I don't do it on purpose, but it is hard to enjoy so much in such a position, and although his grip is firm and he holds me even with his leg as his swollen sex rests in my thigh, I still feel precarious.

He's different from all the guys I've been with; it's like I'm experiencing new sensations. It's not like I've never had a one-night stand with a beautiful boy, as in this case, and it's nothing more than that (aside from the fact that he is an established celebrity from one of the most famous bands in South Korea), sure, but maybe deep down I'm living every fan's dream of this guy.

I'm not a little girl anymore, I delude myself it's different but this situation is really dangerous, didn't the Hybe agents foresee this? I find it hard to believe that a rich, independent woman would still be able to handle something like this.

What if I became so infatuated with them that I wanted to ruin them? Well, maybe the Hybe goons would kill me.

But maybe that's okay, because then the woman loses so much value that she can never be anything to them - or even a problem for the company. What will remain will be the end of a delulu era and a few tears, but it will still be a funny page in my life, albeit a dangerously borderline one.

"I'll put it in, okay?" He says, pressing his lips to my cheek, he's laughing, still doing it.

I nod, lost in him now.

"You don't talk much, during…" He says, as I feel him rest his cock on my opening, then willingly let it slip a little between my large lips, which moisten it.

"I would just say - I moan, surprised to feel him enter suddenly and before I can finish the sentence, using my fingernails to grip his bare skin - obscenities."

"I want to feel them."

Man, man.

It's a little girl thing, isn't it? My heart is pounding.

I don't have time to notice because his pelvis literally punctuates the rhythm of my breathing, I feel him enter me with ferocity, it's as if he uses his whole body to pound into me, I feel full to my sternum.

I hold on tight, I don't want him to stop, I really don't want him to stop.

"S-Slower…" I try to say, slurring my words.

"And why?" He whispers amusedly, as if he already understood.

It sounds bad to say I'm desperate, doesn't it? I am desperate because of him, I never want him to stop, I need this moment to last longer, I want to feel him in my belly, along with the butterflies I haven't had in so long, he shakes them all.

He lifts me abruptly, to better weld his grip, but what I sense is only how he pulls his length out of me, inserting it again and abruptly inside me, trembling because of him.

My breathing is desperate, my gaze blank, he is desperate. He's not lucid either, I can see it in the way he squeezes his eyes shut, the way he breathes erratically, the drops of sweat that bead his forehead, too focused on the pleasure we are sharing.

Is the clock still ticking? I don't understand it, I don't know anymore.

"Ah… Jay… - I swallow, my mouth is full of saliva, like I'm hungry, resting my chin on his shoulder as his steady, assaultive strokes bounce me back onto him holding me by my thighs, resting his hands on my buttocks as he steals one kiss after another - more…more…"

"Please ask." He whispers so close to my ear again.

"Ple…please …"

He means it, maybe because I asked so pitifully, but he manages to go even faster than he has so far, and I don't understand how he doesn't sound the least bit tired after all this time holding me up.

I can't control my voice anymore, I feel him deeper and deeper inside me, the more he moves the more my breathlessness increases. It may be because he is a dancer, a professional, but what kind of stamina is this?

I can't even control my body anymore, I start to convulse, I need to stretch, he's going too fast, so fast I can't even hear my own thoughts. I see him take on a strange expression, very focused but also in pain. I am too focused on his beauty to realize it - ""luckily"" he notices and puts me down.

He's pulled it out, holding his majestic cock with his hand, breathing deeply. I am confused, guilty.

I was too involved to remind him that I take the pill on Hybe's orders.

I look at him wearily, as strands of hair dampened by sweat and the warmth of the bathroom, which normally shouldn't have such a high temperature without even having bathed, slip past my distraught eyes.

"Oh, what an ass." He says in a relieved tone.

"W-What?"

"I didn't want to come yet." He explains.

Yes, it's great, but I can't look away. What is… that stuff? Was it really that big? Is that why I felt it all the way to my sternum? Should I stop staring at it? I can't, anyway.

"Do you like it?" He asks, still holding it up and turning his body toward me.

Guilty.

"So what do you say…" with his gaze he points to his cock, big and veiny, perhaps the first I've seen of this kind, in Korea.

He doesn't say anything else, his smirk is enough for me to realize that I will bend on my knees, prostrate myself to him helplessly, it doesn't matter anymore who he is, or I am, there is nothing else in this moment, in the world.

It is strange, my heated skin makes contact with the cold floor but not a shiver. The heat is inside my body, burning like a forest has just been given to the stake, every inch of my skin is on fire because of him.

I can smell my scent mixed with his as soon as I take him in my hand, and as I languidly lift my gaze to his, Jay caresses my head. He doesn't push it, he doesn't need to, he knows I'll do what I can, I want my lips to be able to touch his pubes, although judging by the thickness and partly by the length, that will prove to be a tall order.

"Good." He says, as I begin to lick him, moving his hand from my hair to my face.

Why? That annoying fluttering again. No Amanda, don't let your daddy issues take over, deal with it in a mature way, don't brood over it.

I do what I can, it's not easy to take it all in my mouth, my hand tightens around the base, moving with the movement of my lips, for a second I swallow over half its length, and a second later I pull it out with difficulty, as lines of saliva build bridges between me and him. I want to go deeper, I want to have more.

I hear him moaning, differently than before, now he is not exerting any force, pressure, he is completely free to surrender to the pleasure and as he lifts his chin making almost guttural sounds, I can only continue, inch by inch, to have more and more.

Perhaps I don't want him to think me inexperienced, perhaps I want him to have a good memory of it so that I can once again take advantage of him, of his body.

When I suffocate, literally, because of him, I see him burst out laughing as gently pulls my head away from his sex. "You did good, now let me do it."

Did he laugh at me? I failed, I guess.

And so he grabs both my hips, spinning me around, this time my back is to him and I can't look at his face, a little sorry. At the same time, however, feeling him knead my ass, as his intimacy presses against mine again, reddened and swollen, because of him, erases all doubt.

"Are you on the pill?"

"A-Ah… - I stammer, continuing to do so in front of him, starting to annoy me - yes."

"That's great. You know, you shouldn't tell other people…" He advises me, though it doesn't have the dispassionate tone of a recommendation at all, but of threatening advice, as he plunges it into my humors, suddenly.

I groan, it's inevitable. "M-Maybe I will, m-m….maybe I won't…"

That no from me is enough for him to gather my hair, twisting it in his hand, tightening it like a rope, pulling it, but I feel no pain. "Now you don't beg anymore?"

He pulls me to himself, arching my back I can feel his size even more, inside my belly, inside my body. "No…"

Jay doesn't answer, at least in words, because he begins to charge animalistically into me, he is more comfortable, he can force his legs up and you can feel it all, the force I mean. My body bounces like lifeless on the rhythm of the song that produces his. Yes, because his every movement is music to me at this moment.

After long, intense minutes, what comes out of my mouth are inhuman verses, a mix of tiredness, weakness and total addiction. My body is devastated, because of him. I feel like convulsing, he holds me by the arms, I have my cheek resting against the now-warm marble of the sink.

I hear him gasp louder, then hold back, I know what is happening, I can feel it because my belly has just warmed up. After a long stream of warm pleasure inside me, Jay stays still, breathing or trying to at least.

I am exhausted, to the point that as soon as he slides out of me, I fall to my knees. I am devastated, physically as much as psychologically, because it hasn't felt this good in a long time, no, maybe it never has. It's a first for me, in a way.

"Are you… okay?" He asks me, as he lifts up his black pants, which have fallen to his ankles the whole time.

"Yes…"

"Really?" He holds out his hand to me, seeming to recover.

I still have his humors dripping down my inner thigh, but he looks at me as if nothing has happened. "Really."

Afterwards, he explains to me how to use the bathroom, we manage to talk normally, or rather, he acts normal, and this sincerely gives me the feeling of being a colleague, wanting to be nice. I spoke little, still in shock.

"If I'm already asleep when you come back, wake me up. I'll move."

"I'll try not to." I smile weakly, still tired.

"If you touch me when you sleep, it's okay. Just not too close."

"I'm not going to-"

He freezes me, puts a finger over my mouth, presses it so that I stop moving my lips. "Lock up, anyway."

When I walk him to the door, Jay heads to his room but I can't help noticing there's someone else across the hall, I turn away when I sense his presence closer.

"Have you started yet?" He asks, surprised but amused, I think.

"Ah…no. I mean-"

"Even if you are here for that, you could have waited a while."

I was wrong, I'm a pest to him, too.

It's not that I'm surprised, they may be handsome and famous, but they are men, and men are strangely too equal to each other, as if in an unspoken camaraderie. There will be different ones and there will be good ones, I'm sure, but I haven't met any yet, so they must be very few.

However, being a fan myself, I feel bad about it. I mean, it's normal for me to feel bad about giving such an idea to people I like so much. Besides, I had a different idea about him, I thought that he himself would be the least critical - but why did I think that?

At the very least, I reflect, seeing them like this will make the mystical and pure aura that hovers around them fade away in my eyes.

"I do what I'm here to do." I answer him, suddenly fearless, my pride is blatantly wounded.

"It was just a advice, why do you get hot?" Heeseung asks, laughing and moving closer.

"I'm not warming up."

He is one step away from me when he stops. "Don't wear it, I read it ruins tits." He advises me again.

I chase the direction of his gaze, right - even though I'm dressed I'm not wearing a bra, and judging by my nipples, it shows. "But…"

"You wore it before, didn't you?"

Now I look him in the eye, it devastates me but I try to maintain some form of dignity by remaining serious.

I am too embarrassed to realize how beautiful he is up close.

"What do you want?"

"I'm giving you another advice."

I step back into the doorway, not quite lucid enough for him to make fun of me, and no matter how much just looking at him makes me feel like the center of a tornado, he's annoying me.

Heeseung puts his foot in the door before I can close it. "You don't listen to advice, do you?"

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Actually, I feel my privacy has been violated by a stranger."

"Then ask them to send me away, maybe they will listen to you. You're quite authoritative, aren't you? You're Lee Heeseung."

He smiles, as if pitying me, but why should he? "By the way, you said you were a fan, who is your bias?"

Ah. I didn't expect this one, he really changed the subject, putting me in an uncomfortable situation.

Suddenly my hands begin to tingle and my body to boil-essentially, by spending time with Jay, I have normalized that these people in front of me are Enhypen, and that I am still obsessed with each of them.

Why am I blushing? Am I an idiot?

"I don't have it."

"Liar, you took a long time to answer."

"N-No, I mean it."

"Ah, you don't say that because it's really me?" He asks me, with an innocent expression and a dazzling smile, I seem to melt in front of him.

I giggle in confusion. "You wish."

"So you don't want to go against the others? Is that why you won't tell me? Look, I'm not a snitch."

Is he trying to convince me as if I were a child? Ah, that's annoyingly adorable.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because it seems like an interesting experiment. An engene, in our dormitory, to have free access to every member - she nods, raising her eyebrows convincingly, I continue to stare at the perfect shape of her smiling lips - she will try to conquer her bias, no? I'd like to observe him."

I laugh, genuinely. Can I believe that he doesn't know? Or is it precisely because he knows that he wants to observe him?

Conquer? But who am I supposed to conquer in my situation? It's hard enough to find a normal guy with an open mind, should talented kids who expect everything to be owed to them be?

"Are you kidding me?"

"Just a little." His laughter fades into a warm smile.

And of course, he knows.

"So why did you want to know?"

"Because I'm curious, by nature I guess."

"Then I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you'll never get an answer."

He removes his foot, not seeming at all impressed by my knockout response, but whatever, I close the door without even saying goodbye. Now that I am finally alone, leaning against the sink again, I look at myself in the mirror.

My heart is about to burst, my brain is the on the verge of its worst short-circuit, my muscles are trembling.

Did this really happen? All of this? With Jay? With his…body? And that fits into the korean standard? What about Heeseung? Wasn't he a little too handsome? I can feel it, at this rate I'll end up going crazy.

NEXT CHAPTER:

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Preening

Prinxiety (Roman x Virgil) Prompt: I was wondering if you'd be able to write something with prinxiety or Virgil/Roman/Janus in some kind of winged!au where the wings are pretty sensitive and one of them has feathered wings and kinda gets off on having them groomed/preened? Maybe they get embarrassed about it so let their wings get a little messy before the other(a) step in to help and find this out? And then maybe decide to make things fun (wink) Idm necessaily who's in which role :3 I just never see smut with a focus on wings and think it would be really cute <3 no pressure tho!! /Gen Warnings: preening, handjobs, overstimulation A request from my AO3

Virgil shifts in discomfort, prompting Roman to turn to him and frown. When Virgil notices the bitter look, he mumbles an apology, but Roman doesn't look away. 

"You keep squirming," Roman comments, almost judgmentally, though Virgil knows Roman well enough by this point to understand he's concerned. "I know my bed is not this uncomfortable, so what is?"

"It's nothing," Virgil tries to dismiss, though when Roman sits up - opposed to their former position of cuddling together, Virgil's eyes can't help but flicker towards Roman's white wings, which stretch out briefly, flap shortly (unintentionally knocking Virgil in the arm), and then tuck snugly against Roman's back. After being laid on for the majority of their snuggle session, Virgil understands the need to spread them and soothe the ache within them. But Virgil's own wings were folded beneath his hoodie - of which he loved too much to cut the appropriate slits in which would otherwise allow his wings to slip out. However, not allowing them to stretch was causing dull pain to reverberate in his bones. 

Roman sees Virgil look towards his wings, and then frowns as he reaches to tug at Virgil's hoodie sleeve. 

"If you took this off you'd probably feel a little better," Roman says, which has Virgil yanking his arm away and frowning. "Even if at least for a minute. Your wings need to stretch." 

"No they don't," Virgil lies, shrugging off Roman's worry. "I'm fine. Just needed to shift positions is all." 

"Your wings need to shift positions." 

Virgil rolls his eyes and glares at Roman, which causes Roman to pout softly, as he leans against Virgil needily, sliding one of his hands beneath Virgil's hoodie and rubbing it against Virgil's ribs. 

As his thumb presses against Virgil's side, Roman mumbles "I don't want you to be in any discomfort, Virgil. Just... just stretch them briefly, won't you? For me?" 

Virgil nearly cringes at Roman's words, and doesn't hesitate to shove Roman away, but Roman smiles at the noticeable flush decorating Virgil's cheeks and the way his hands play with his hoodie strings as he considers Roman's plea. 

Eventually though, Virgil pulls his hoodie off. He keeps it crumpled on the bed next to him, but gives himself the opportunity to finally let his wings splay. It does feel rather refreshing - especially since Virgil would only normally let his wings free at night before heading to bed. So a mid-day sprawl was incredibly soothing. 

He spreads them out fully, with Roman leaning forward so that Virgil's wings could stretch behind him, but is staring rather intensely at the dark feathers. 

As Virgil's wings briefly flap and shake, and then tuck against his back, Virgil realizes that Roman's still staring. It starts to make him nervous. 

"Sorry," he instinctively apologizes, as he goes to put his hoodie back on. Roman quickly stops him though, leaning to set his hand atop Virgil's as he shakes his head, but his brows are furrowed in thought as his gaze stays shifted towards Virgil's back. 

"Don't be sorry," Roman quickly dismisses, as he reaches for Virgil, before stopping just short of his shoulder. Glancing at Virgil's face, he sees that Virgil is staring at him in discomfort, and so Roman retracts his hand. "I should be apologizing. I don't mean to stare. Could I just..." Roman chews his inner cheek, choosing his words carefully, before restarting with "may I touch your wings?" 

Virgil flushes at the request - more so out of shame than fluster - but nods anyway. 

Roman gently takes one of Virgil's wings, and guides it out, shifting his position so he's sitting the opposite direction Virgil is facing. As Virgil's wing is spread, Roman frowns, and Virgil rubs his hands together anxiously at the sight. 

"Is... is something wrong?" he asks, but Roman quickly reaches over to squeeze Virgil's thigh in a soft bit of assurance. 

"No, no," Roman quells him, before sort of humming and going "well, kind of." 

Virgil doesn't like that answer, and shoots Roman an upset look, which has Roman huffing and going "well, something is wrong! I wasn't going to lie to you." Roman's fingers gently brush over Virgil's inner wing, over the rough feathers, and even feels one coming loose! He goes to grab and pluck it in order to ease Virgil out of the discomfort the stray is no doubt causing him, but Virgil's face goes bright pink as his wing quickly flaps to knock Roman's hand away, and tucks back against his spine instead. 

"Be careful," Virgil hisses, as Roman pouts at the retraction. "You can't just go around pulling feathers off my wings!" 

"They need preened!" Roman whines childishly, as he grabs at Virgil's shirt and places a few rapid-fire, uncoordinated kisses over his face as if trying to convince Virgil of his point. "I'm sure those stray feathers can't feel comfortable! Let me pluck them, darling, I promise you'll feel so much better." 

Virgil shoves Roman away with a huff. "They don't need preened," he mutters dejectedly, pulling his knees to his chest. 

Roman frowns, and turns away from Virgil to mess around in his nightstand. After a few moments, he pulls out an expensive looking brush, that he shows off to Virgil. 

"Grooming brush," Roman proudly explains, smiling wide. "The bristles are incredibly soft and designed for feathers." 

Virgil stares at the brush, and briefly thinks back on his time with Remus and Janus. He tries to remember if he ever saw them grooming their wings. Virgil stares at the brush, and then looks back at Roman. "Remus never brushed his wings." 

Roman frowns at the mention of his brother, but still explains "Remus's wings aren't feathered like yours and mine. They're just skin. I'm shocked he can even fly." Roman then pushes his beautiful golden brush into Virgil's hands, encouraging him to run his fingers over the soft white bristles, and Virgil is indeed shocked with how gentle they are against his flesh. "This brush is specifically made for wings like mine. It's able to ease loose feathers away from the wings, and smooth them out overall."

Virgil hands Roman his brush back, still looking a bit unsure. Roman takes it from him, but then kisses Virgil's head. 

"Trust me," Roman implores him. "You'll feel so much more comfortable with them brushed out. I'll be gentle, I promise."  

Virgil chews his inner cheek, looking admittedly doubtful... but he trusts Roman. And if Roman's wings looks so smooth and well-groomed, then surely he has a lot of experience in combing through the feathers. And honestly Virgil's wings have felt stiff and uncomfortable for days now, more so than usual.

So, slowly, Virgil slides down the bed a bit, and lets his wings spread. Seeing this as an invitation, Roman smiles and moves to be sitting behind Virgil. 

Fingers gliding gently against his feathers, Virgil shivers in anticipation as Roman merely pets over his wings for a moment, as if smoothing them out until they're spread just enough for him to have the most unhindered access. 

Roman holds the brush in his hands, and hums as he looks for the best place to start. Eventually, he settles on combing from the inner side outwards, starting with the feathers closest to Virgil's back. Most of the feathers here look loose, and many fallout the moment his bristles brush against the plumes.

Immediately, Virgil can't help but sigh at the sensation of these disgruntled feathers - that have been irritating his wings so fervently - being removed tenderly by Roman's gentle hand.

"I don't mean to pluck," Roman murmurs, as Virgil feels Roman's fingertips gently push into the skin of his wings. "Some of these feathers are just so buried in your skin that my brush can't even ease them out. It's like an ingrown hair..." and then Roman's grimacing at his own words, as if nauseated by the comparison. Virgil can't see his face, but he understands what Roman's saying, and flushes shamefully because that's exactly what it feels like. Just to an amplified degree.

"This can't be comfortable," Roman then continues, as Virgil looks towards the pile Roman's making as he sets the removed feathers aside. "I really wish she would have let me know about this sooner. You don't have to live in discomfort, Virgil."

"It's just.. not your problem..." Virgil mumbles in reply, and though his voice is breathy, it's not out of guilt or anything, but in fact out of fluster.

As Roman's brush begins to swipe towards the latter half of his wingspan, Virgil's body starts to feel hot. His wings are rather sensitive, and even a cool breeze could send him shuttering - let alone the diligent bristles of a delicate brush, combing through him with such compassion. 

Virgil squirms a little, and causes the brush to press deeper into his wings, which has him abruptly covering his face. Roman retracts as soon as he notices.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Roman asks, halting all movements. Though he's only combed about half of one wing, if detangling feathers was hurting Virgil, then he was worried about continuing. "I'm so sorry. I thought I was being careful!"

"You are being careful," Virgil replies, though he sounds considerably muffled.

Roman pouts, interpreting Virgil's words as a lie. "If I was being careful then you wouldn't be hunched over like I hurt you," he huffs, and wraps his arms around Virgil's wait. He lays his chin on Virgil's shoulder, but is careful to not press his front against Virgil's wings, as if scared of irritating them further.

Virgil's silent for a moment, before he nervously peels his hands away from his cheeks. He sets his hands atop Roman's knuckles, and very gently guides Roman's fingers downwards, over his pudgy stomach, and then down between his thighs, where Roman's palm meets an unmistakable bulge. When Roman rubs it, Virgil has to stifle a soft moan, and they both end up red in the face.

There's silence between them for a moment, and Virgil almost goes to pull away, worried he's ruined things, but then Roman is rubbing over his bulge more firmly.

"Did... did I do that?" Roman asks, which is a question that admittedly makes Virgil snicker.

"Who else could've," Virgil snarkily replies, but his words are obviously playful, which easily melts some of the tension. At this silly response, Virgil feels Roman's concern melt into a similar bout of playfulness, and then he's kissing the side of Virgil's chin.

"What did I do," Roman then asks, after a moment, which has Virgil chewing his bottom lip.

Virgil has a pretty good guess on what it was that has him so excited, but admitting such would no doubt be embarrassing. However, after some further prompting from Roman, Virgil utters something soft and embarrassed about "the brush" and "my wings."

It doesn't take an expert to piece these things together, and Roman is instantly cooing at just how sensitive Virgil's wings are.

"Aw!" Roman immediately exclaims. "Just a bit of brushing and you're already worked up! Is that why you don't groom them? Because you get too hard and have to stop?"

Virgil whines out Roman's name, almost as in a plea with him to stop teasing, which has Roman laughing and saying that he's just kidding.

Roman then pulls away from Virgil, his arms sliding past Virgil's waist, before he grabs his brush and continues his preening. Virgil can't help but flush darkly at how Roman just shamelessly neglects him after finding out he's hard, but he supposes that his wings are in desperate need of plucking and grooming, so he doesn't stop Roman regardless. Besides, he wasn't lying when he said the brush was what aroused him, because as it continues to slide through his feathers, he can't help but let little moans slip past his lips.

"Feel free to touch yourself while I preen," Roman says, surprisingly casual, though he's blushing just as much. "You shouldn't have to be neglected while I continuously stimulate you. I'd never deny you pleasure, Virgil, just like you should never deny yourself self-care." 

Virgil says something quiet about being embarrassed, but Roman can't really understand it. And despite his apparent embarrassment, Roman hears a zipper, and then glances over Virgil's shoulder to see he's pulled his cock out anyway, as if he's desperate to touch despite still habitually complaining about it. Roman can't help but laugh softly, and press his own thighs together to hide the fact Virgil's got him excited as well. 

More loose feathers are carefully preened from Virgil's wings as Virgil tries to touch himself in tandem to the movements of Roman's brushing. 

"There," Roman sighs, happy with his work, as he gives Virgil's wing a few loving strokes once it's been completely brushed out. "That one's done. Give it a flap for me, won't you?" 

Virgil does - his wing retracts, and then stretches out, and then flaps, scattering most of the loose feathers Roman had meticulously piled up on the bed. Virgil immediately frowns at the mess, while Roman chuckles again, mumbling an embarrassed "whoops." 

He moves his brush to the second wing, starting again from Virgil's back and brushing outwards, but says "that feels nice, doesn't it? I'm sure there's a noticeable difference." 

Virgil mumbles something in response, swiping his thumb over the slit of his cock and dragging his pre downwards, smearing it over the length of his shaft. He shivers again as Roman brushes over his wings, and suddenly jolts as Roman plucks another disorganized feather from his back. 

"Roman!" he squeals, before shoving a hand over his mouth. He hears Roman sharply breathe in behind him, but Roman doesn't say anything, and instead brushes over the spot he just pulled a feather from. Virgil squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment, and the hand around his cock squeezes as well, as Roman continues grooming him. 

Each brush of Roman's bristles has Virgil gasping or moaning softly. It felt like Roman was caressing his inner thighs, over his ass, even rubbing over his front in terms of sensitivity. He feels so good that he's almost jealous he's never given his wings the time of day before! And Roman seems overly aware of the power he has, as he spends a lot longer on this wing than he did on the last, combing over the same spot repeatedly until the feathers and skin of Virgil's wings are so soft that he's forced to move on. 

Roman's taking such gentle, tender care of Virgil. He's being careful and attentive, and his hands are so skilled at preening and plucking. 

His brush is indeed soft, but when Roman takes the time to card through Virgil's feathers with his own fingers, Virgil almost comes right then and there.

"Roman," Virgil moans, taking in a stuttering breath. "Roman, please." 

"I can't go any faster, Virgil," Roman muses in response, as he uses his hands to gentle comb through Virgil's feathers, teasingly pressing the pads of his fingers into the skin of Virgil's wings. He swears he can feel Virgil's rapid heartbeat through beneath the feathers, and rubs smoothly against thin skin there. "You wouldn't want me to accidently miss anything, after all." 

Roman's finger dips into a certain spot, nestling beneath an unruly feather, and as he begins to ease it out, Virgil suddenly cries out. 

"Fuck, there!" he pleads, stroking his cock vigorously. "Keep rubbing there!" 

Roman does. With a flush on his face, he lightly drags his nails along that exact spot, pushing and pressing into it, rubbing against it and continuing to ease the loose feather more and more out of place. And just as Roman's soft scratching fully works the feather from Virgil's wing, Virgil's flooded with relief, both from the itching, annoying feather falling away from his body, and from him finally letting go, and letting himself stroke his cock through a quick and relaxed orgasm. 

He makes a mess of his pants, and Roman's bed, but he keeps pumping his shaft until he's satisfied, and then lets his head fall back as he pants, meeting Roman's eyes. Roman was watching him through it, but quickly turns his head in embarrassment when Virgil meets his eyes. 

Virgil's heavy breathing fills the room, until Roman resumes his preening, using his actual handheld brush this time as he works on the end of Virgil's wings, making Virgil whine softly. 

"Roman," he weakly protests, but Roman just hushes him with a dramatic "shh." 

"It's not my fault you finished before I did," Roman pouts, though he's only teasing. "I'm almost done, alright? Just a little bit more, and your feathers will be as soft as a baby fledglings." 

Grumbling something bitterly, Virgil huffs, but doesn't push Roman away, and instead lets Roman finish up his grooming. However, with the bristles lightly scratching through his feathers and the constant petting from Roman's hand, Virgil is embarrassingly worked back up again. So much so, that when Roman's done, Virgil lets out a soft whine of protest. 

"Why are you upset?" Roman pokes him, grinning like a dope as he rubs his hand through Virgil's wings a final time. When he deems them preened to perfection, he puts his brush away. "You should be feeling a lot better now." 

But when he moves to wrap his arms around Virgil's waist once more, his knuckles bump against Virgil's cock, which is fully stiff, and very messy. 

Virgil feels the heat radiating from Roman's face, but with it resting on his shoulder, he can't gauge Roman's countenance. 

Instinctively, Virgil mutters "sorry," but then Roman's wrapping his fingers around Virgil's shaft, and stroking it slowly and carefully, giving Virgil's cock his full and intense attention. And when Virgil moans, and asked through bated breath what Roman's doing, he just gets kissed on the side of the head in response. 

"Consider it a 'thank you,'" Roman explains, cheerily. "For letting me brush through your wings." 

"But that was already-" Virgil pauses to moan in overstimulation, and then swallows a follow-up whine, struggling for a minute to recompose himself. "Preening me was already a gift. You didn't have to do this as well." 

Roman shrugs. "Well, I like taking care of you. In all ways." He squeezes firmly around the base of Virgil's cock, and drags his tightened hand upwards, as if milking the pre from Virgil's slit. "If this is making you feel good, then I want to help you feel great." 

Virgil presses the back of his hand to his mouth as he whimpers, rocking his hips into Roman's touch. Roman praises him under his breath, rubbing and pumping Virgil's length until every breath Virgil takes is an unexpected gasp or a shuddering inhale. 

And truly, Virgil does feel good. His wings are no longer stiff and uncomfortable. He no longer has to deal with itchy feathers poking into his skin that need to fall out and won't. 

Roman plucked away all his problems, and is now taking care of Virgil's final one as though it was no burden at all! 

"Roman," Virgil moans, and this time Virgil hears Roman moan back. A wordless, sheerly instinctual moan. And that's when Virgil realizes Roman's touching himself behind him. Briefly, Virgil wishes he was turned around to see, but he likes the comforting hold Roman has on him. The hand around his waist, reaching past his side to stroke him quick and lovingly. While Roman's other hand occasionally brushed Virgil's back, it was mostly used to touch his own cock, getting off alongside Virgil. 

"I'd brush your wings every day if you'd let me," Roman pants, even though they both know that'd be excessive. "I'd have you in this position, and I'd even get you off after if you so desired." 

Virgil's face is bright red. Sweat rolls down his cheeks. 

Roman leans closer to him, pressing his chest against Virgil's wings, making Virgil gasp. 

"Let me," Roman breathes, barely above a whisper. Virgil doesn't even know what he's asking, but answers anyway. 

"Please." 

Roman lets out a soft moan. "Virgil." 

"Please." 

Roman kisses Virgil's shoulder, up his neck, beneath his earlobe - anywhere Roman can kiss, he does, and with Roman's front against his back, lips against his neck, and hand around his cock, Virgil comes, a spluttering orgasm being milked out of him with loving ease. Perhaps having already came only aided Roman's pursuit, but Roman seems satisfied nonetheless. 

Roman touches Virgil through his orgasm, before pulling away to finish getting himself off, and coming much less ceremoniously over Virgil's back and the bedding. When Virgil huffs out a few bad words for Roman getting his shirt dirty, Roman just laughs and says Virgil should consider himself lucky it wasn't his jacket. 

"It did get on your wings a little, though," Roman mumbles, making Virgil flush and turn to glare at Roman over his shoulder. 

"Damnit, Roman," Virgil huffs, "now I'm going to have to struggle to wash that out." 

But Roman just smiles cheekily, and slides off his bed, pulling Virgil up as well. "Or," he starts, already bringing Virgil towards his bathroom, "we could shower together, and you could let me give your wings a proper washing. It'll be good for them, I swear! And I even have a shower brush to really help scrub the soap in!" 

Virgil knows what Roman is implying, and flushes dark, but rolls his eyes and sighs regardless. "Fine, whatever," he mumbles, but picks up his step a little, already moving to undress completely and let Roman tend to him further. 

[matenrou-fan]

three seperate scenario of toki, jakurai, ichiro waking up really horny and slowly fucking their s/o? she is laying in front of them and they lift her leg to slip in from behind (but it's not anal lol!)

uhhh I am so so sorry idk any pthing about OM so i can't request :(

Samatoki, Jakurai, Ichiro with fem!s/o (+morning sex)

femreader, humping, fingering (receiving), rough sex;;

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

;MINORS DNI;

-Despite he's such an overprotective softie in relationships, there's also a pretty naughty side of him, so Samatoki never would be that ashamed of seeing some wet dreams that involve you, he's only enjoying it. But it's really rare when he wakes up that horny after such a good sleep.

-But it's actually neither the first nor last time he felt such desire after lewding you in dreams. If you sleep at this moment, he prefers to just go to the bathroom and calm himself down, but sometimes it's really too much and his own hand won't help. Just like today, a copy of you in his mind was just too bold in his fantasies.

-So Samatoki just move to your closer, hugging from behind. He probably should do the opposite, as the soft scent of your warm skin just makes his dick twitch more, but he can't, it's like his hands freeze around your waist the second he wraps his arms around your body.

-"Babe.. Babe, are you sleeping?" - A low, hoarse after night voice slowly wakes you up, and even while being so sleepy, you can't help but notice how hot it actually sounds. - "Heh, what with this smile? You already know what I want?"

-Of course you know, because as soon as you open your eyes and look at the pale face of your boyfriend, his hands lowered to your hip. Oh, and you can feel this pressure against your butt when he leans closer to your smaller figure.

-But no matter how horny Samatoki are, he wants to heat your mind too, playing with your body a little before actually pushing himself inside. His arms already know all your sensitive places, squeezing your nipples between fingers while his glans stroking your folds through the thin fabric of your pajamas.

-During casual sessions your boyfriend loves to make you the one to whine for more, yet today there's not that much patience in his nerves. So pretty soon, when his dick would slowly soak in your juices, Samatoki finally pulled down your shorts and slowly but surely thrust in till the very end.

-Getting too carried away is definitely one of the points in the list of bad habits of your boyfriend.. As he doesn't give a single fuck about how many responsibilities and tasks waits for him outside your shared bedroom, he wouldn't stop until you two get enough of each other bodies.

-And trust me, as soon as you start calling his name in such a desperate voice, all last thought would fade away from his mind as Samatoki just wants to keep pounding you senseless.

-For him, it's very unusual to suddenly feel such an unsuppressable urge, especially early in the morning, when he just wakes up and immediately starts thinking about you and your body, sleeping next to him.

-A usual morning routine for Jakurai is to get up and check his blood pressure and temperature, yet today there's another problem that needs to be solved - his half hardened dick, that keeps pulsing in his home shorts.

-He probably should just quickly take a shower and deal with his fantasies all alone? Yet even for someone with great patience and self-control as Jakurai, it's kinda hard to resist this wish to touch your shoulder or to lean closer to your smooth hair. The sweet aroma of your shampoo is so luring..

-Small, light kisses on the neck would quickly wake you up, and only after that Jakurai would cling closer, wrapping his hands around your waist. Some deep shame would tickle his chest, aren't he too old to be so needy? Yet it feels like words escape his lips faster than he was able to think about them properly.

-"Ah.. Good morning, my dear.. The morning has just begun, but I think I'm already falling for your charm again.." - your lover whispers right in your ear, sending electric waves of goosebumps down your spine. - "So I hope you will forgive me for such impudence.."

-Even in an internal frenzy, Jakurai so soft and loving, thinking about your pleasure even more than about his own, as he doesn't want to just use you. Despite waking up absolutely hungry for your body, there's an even bigger appetite for intimate emotions in his soul, the real connection..

-So everything would be gentle and passionate, as always when Jakurai is being a dom. Preparing you long and well with his slim fingers, while you pressing your back to his warm chest, mewling in pleasure.. Sweet nothings and small praises in your ear as he slowly slides inside, pushing your clenching walls.

-And of course so much attention to your lips, chest and clit, as he slowly starts trusting in, enjoying the wet tightness of your pussy. Only your ardent reaction through small whimpers and lazily, but needy movements of your hips makes his arousal stronger. Only your desire raises his desire to the highest point.

-How lucky you both are, to not have any work shifts today.. As it seems Jakurai wouldn't have enough of your adorable morning cumming face after just one round.

-Well.. Even in his pure mind sometimes can awoke a few naughty thoughts, especially when he can't control his mind and it shows him the deepest desires of his soul.

-And probably the one who would wake up first today would be you, as these desperate whimpers behind you get too loud, and his arms trembling so much as Ichiro cling closer to you, shyly calling your name through sweet dreams.

-How can you not tease him a little? Leaning back to press yourself to his shaking with deep, unsteady breaths, chest. Maybe whisper his name a few times too, while wiggling your hips a bit to grind back, rubbing against a hard twitching bulge in his pajama pants.

-"M.. S/o, s/o, I'm so close.." - a sudden loud gasp breaks from his chest as Ichiro finally wakes up with a nagging ache between his thighs and notices your sly grin. - "A-ah, s/o, g-good morning…! Did I wake you up…?"

-He always feels so ashamed when you catch him like that! Yet sometimes it feels like his dick gets even harder in such situations, happy to finally get more attention. And the way you coo at your boyfriend, willing to help with such a shameful urge drew him to follow this primal instinct.

-The dream is so realistic but never enough, and he's too hungry for just the warmth of your skin and the sweet odours of your body. So for a few minutes Ichiro just wants to feel you more, to calm down his tickling mind through hot kisses and libidinous foreplay with your chest, while his dick keeps humping against your hips so fast and needy.

-And oh how amusing yet arousing his groans sound when his trembling hand finally lifts your leg, allowing him to slip in. For a moment he just froze in place, as he always does after getting inside you fully, just enjoying how pulses of your walls wrapped around his whole length.

-And after that.. Some unsteady, sloppy movements, that quickly speed up as Ichiro whines more and more right in your ear just how tight you are early in the morning. Just how good it feels, to be greeted with your delicious pussy like that. Best wake up in his life.

-God.. Just how lucky you're that both Jiro and Saburo stayed overnight in their friends houses, as these loud slaps of hips to hips and weak but loud high pitched moans would be heard all over the house for a whole morning today.

[truebluehue]

Seven

Greed

“It has been 10 cycles since your iknimaya, when will you settle?”

Ah yes the question that has been thrown at you since you turned 18 cycles.

“Sa’nok, I will when the time comes. I am just not interested in anyone at the moment.” You say exasperatedly. Well no one that isn’t already mated or looking for a third.

“Surely there is someone?” Verya was not a patient woman for anyone except her family. And even she pressures them. “By the time you have your first child I’ll be with Eywa.” 

You sigh. “Sa’nok, I will have a child you will be able to happily meet,” you give a mischievous smirk, “When they connect to the Utral Aymokriyä for the first time.” And with that you rush out of your home, hearing your mother swear behind you.

It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in people. You have had your fair share of offers. It was just that none fit. Mating isn’t just something you wanted to do based on mere attraction or comfort, it was more serious to you than that. You wanted to feel as if Eywa gifted you. You wanted to See someone. It made you feel greedy at times. Sad that you haven't had that feeling yet. As you walk to the forest to get your mother a few fruits you knew she liked, Timun, a close friend walks up, making sure to call out to not spook you.

One concussion was enough.

“Y/N! How is my favorite tsamsiyu doing?” He says with a wide grin. It was only with an eye trained from years of friendship that you can see the slight frantic look of his eyes, his shoulder slightly tense despite his friendly nature.

You raise a brow. “I am well. I’m going to pick fruit for sa’nok.” You respond, sending him the Look.  Are you okay?

Without dropping his grin, he eagerly replies, “I’ll join you.” I am freaking out. Get me out of here. Mental communication received, you both begin the walk towards the woods.

_______________________

“We talked. We actually talk.” Timun says in shock, head between his legs.

“You know. When I invited you here, I actually did expect your help.” Your strained voice comes from the top of a tree, a utumauti fruit just in your reach.

“Y/N. I understand you probably said something to your sa’nok to warrant this, but I am freaking out down here. I actually talked to him. And I didn’t stutter once.” A utumauti lands on his head, causing him to yelp. It’s not the first time he has ranted to you about his crush, Ayekxo. It was sickening how many times you’ve caught him staring as the hunter practices in the range. But, you do agree about one thing. He does have a weirdly nice looking back. Plus you’ve seen the looks Ayekxo gives him in return when Timun’s is turned, wistful in a pitiful, sad ikran way.

Climbing down, you pick up the fruits, turning to Timune to give him an exasperated look. “I’ve already told you. He likes you as well but you won't do anything about it.” You begin the trek back to High Camp, Timun following behind. “It’s just sad the way he looks at you. I bet if you asked him to court he would just skip to mating.”

“What you say and what I think, is very different.” Timun sighs dramatically. “You don’t even know if he also likes males. He hasn’t even been seen with anyone other than women.”

My best friend is a skxawng. And dramatic. How is he in the war party? You thought fondly. “Look, I can confirm it. But we have to wait till we get to my kelku.” 

Timun turns his head to look at you so fast, it has its own breeze. “Confirm what? Confirm how?”

You stop at another utumauti tree. “Get the fruit or you learn nothing.” You smirk.

_______________________

It was now evening,and na’vi were dancing everywhere. It is also where. Jake sees you again, dancing with the other unmated women in the center. It was a small celebration in tribute to Eywa but all he could look at was you. The kids had already returned home, he and Neytiri wanted to stay for a bit longer. And boy is he glad he did. IT was almost as if you were floating. Graceful, like a ballerina. He thinks. Beautiful too.

The dance comes to an end, him and Neytiri yipping along with the rest of the People. He has a clear view as you walk by, feeling almost as if he just drunk a whole pot of coffee, feeling a buzz flit through his mind. But he also has a clear view of you walking towards a young male Na’vi, who’s smiling at you a bit too much to his liking. And Jake recognizes him as Timun, a member from the ground team for raids against the RDA. As he hands you a drink, saying something that causes you to laugh, he looks away and watches as another group begins to dance.

And Jake tried. He really did try.

But as he keeps glancing over to you, watching as you and Timun continue talking and laughing, he can tell you guys are close based on your body language. There's a blush to your face making your smile radiate even more. A swarm of butterflies erupted in Jake's stomach, causing him to use all his years of marine training to keep his face straight. Jake looks away, taking a sip of his alcoholic beverage he had beside him. He feels as his thoughts begin to turn. He unsuccessfully tries to drown out the green eyed snake beginning to coil in his stomach, but it does nothing to clear his mind of the way you moved in your performance.

What are they talking about?

Why do you want to know?

They seem close. Are they mated? Courting?

Why do you care?

She looks beautiful tonight.

She does every night, why is it different now?

She should be here with me. 

She’s young, why should she be with you? Besides you have Neytiri.

And it is true. You are younger than him from what he can see. He’s olo’eyktan, and has been for years now. He knows his stomach is softer now. He has 4 children. He’s protective to the point of overbearing strictness at times. He also has Neytiri. Jake sighs, putting on a mask of pleased indifference. Don't get him wrong, he loves his wife. She is everything. She Sees him. So why does he feel greed slowly making a space for you in his heart? Carving the beginnings of a crush that he knows has no possibility of ever coming true? He knows it's not unheard of for a mated pair to mate with a third. But something, the human part of Jake’s mind, feels disgusted with himself.

I feel like I'm cheating and I haven't even done anything. Jake looks at Neytiri, who turns her head and gives him a smile. Jake smiles back and relaxes, turning back to the performances.

Little did he know, his wife and mate were having the same war within herself.

But Eywa doesn’t set paths for no reason.

It was the next morning, Jake and Neytiri spending time with one another since their children were off somewhere.

“Ma'Jake, how do you feel about adding a third?” And just like when she told him at the Spirit Tree that they were mated for life, Jake feel a surprised shock. But he also feels skeptical.

“What do you mean?”

[ughgoaway]

under the mistletoe // day 3

content warnings; kissing and probably swearing, I don't remember tbh <3

a/n; okay re-reading this one lowkey killed me... I feel like it's SO cringy and bad??? but it's too late now! despite my self-consciousness, I hope you guys enjoy <3

word count; 2k

(this fic takes place after they have gotten together)

12 days masterlist

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

"You're kidding," Matty says with a crestfallen look on his face. Currently, he looked similar to a 10-year-old being told they weren't getting a puppy for Christmas. But Matty would attest that he had it much, much worse.

"Nope!" You say popping the p as you finish. "Matty, it's Christmas. You can only kiss me if we see a mistletoe!” 

Matty scoffed at your words, “as if you are going to be able to resist kissing me until we are under the mistletoe, I give it a minimum 2 days before you do those pouty ‘please kiss me lips’ and beg me” he said confidently.

“Pfft. I won't kiss you without mistletoe until Christmas day. You underestimate my stubbornness, my dear” You pat Matty's head consideningly.

“Wanna bet?” he smirks, leaning slightly closer to your face.

You lean closer too, watching Matty’s eyes flick down to your lips the nearer you get, “deal. If I win, you make me breakfast every day next week. And if you win, I'll do the same.” You narrow your eyes at matty, challenging him. 

Matty nods quickly, now unabashedly staring at your lips. “One last kiss for luck?” he asks as if he is doing you a favour, rather than yearning for one last kiss.

You teasingly lean in but snap away just before your lips touch, “ah ah ah, no mistletoe. Those are the rules i'm afraid love" You pout at Matty teasingly before spinning on your heels and walking away.

You knew it would be a matter of seconds before he came following, and sure enough, a few seconds later, you heard the sound of footsteps coming behind you into the kitchen.

The water in the kettle is just beginning to boil when you feel a pair of hands sliding over your hips and meeting on your stomach.

Matty's curls tickle your face as he presses his face into your neck, leaving open-mouth kisses at your pulse point and working down your neck. You hum and lean back into him, loving the feeling of his warmth behind you. 

His head smoothly slides out from your neck, and his hands slither from your stomach to your waist. He grips and spins you around. Pressing your back onto the kitchen counter with a dizzying pressure. His red kiss-bitten lips were already pouting at you, teasing you. But you were committed. As was Matty.

“C'mon baby, why won't you give your poor boyfriend a kiss?” Matty says, leaning in and pressing kisses to your cheeks. You smile at his actions, seeing right through his sweet facade.

“Oh, I will,” you say, and you've never seen Matty move quicker. He shoots back with wide eyes. 

“Really?” Matty was shocked you would fold so easily, sure he'd have a battle on his hands.

You lean close to Matty and brush your noses together, exchanging desperate breaths between the two of you. Softly, you whisper, “Yup, as soon as you catch me under some mistletoe, I’m all yours” You smirk and spin around to finish making your drink.

You hear Matty grumble and shuffle away, annoyed that his pretty boy tactic hadn't worked. But he was gonna catch you. He's determined to win.

///////////

It was a few hours later and suspiciously quiet in the Healy house, you tiptoe around every corner, preparing for Matty to leap out with mistletoe in his hands. The cold concrete on the floor radiates through your feet as you creep through the corridors. You walk past each painting on the wall and, for the first time, really look at a few of them. Matty has interesting taste in art, that's for sure.

As you approach Annie's room, you start to hear hushed voices speaking so you sneak up and listen intently. The warm glow of the light filters into the hall from a crack in the door.

You manage to peek in and see Matty sitting on the floor with Annie standing over him, fiddling with his hair. He has various clips and bows hidden in his curls, Annie having recently fallen in love with playing hairdressers. She will have your hair in her hands as soon as you are within reaching distance.

Most times, he begrudgingly agrees and ends up sitting on the floor with his daughter's hands raking through his curls and carefully placing glitter clips and hairbands. She studies his whole head carefully, thoughtfully placing each item and moving them around until she gets the look she's going for.

Matty once came into the studio with a glittery butterfly clip still caught in his hair, which earned him endless teasing for the whole session.

The teasing continued until the next time Annie came in, she promptly sat Ross down and did nothing but focus on playing with his hair for about 45 minutes. Adam and George were suddenly very happy for their short locks, watching in fits of laughter at Ross’ disgruntled face as Annie placed yet another hair clip in. 

So it was a normal sight for you to see, Matty's hair full of accessories and Annie's tongue sticking out with her focused face as she styled him. What you weren't accustomed to was the topic of conversation; you.

“So you know Daddy really likes to kiss y/n?” Matty says, wincing at the pain of Annie tugging particularly hard at one curl to get it to stay in place. 

Annie pauses what she is doing before saying, “Yes Daddy it's yucky. But you have to be quiet if im doing your hair. I can't focus!” she says exasperatedly, throwing her hands up dramatically. 

“Okay im sorry, baby, but I need your help to play a little trick on her. Do you want to help?” he asks, placing his hands on his daughter's waist and pulling her into his lap.

She fiddles with his curls as she thinks, even using one finger to tap her chin pensively. “Hmm, what would the trick be? Would it make her sad?” 

Matty smiles at his daughter's caring nature. It makes his heart happy knowing his two girls love each other so deeply. Knowing the two people he cared most about had such a connection was one of Matty's favourite things.

He knows the way he and you met wasn't the most ideal circumstance, but the connection it gave you with Annie was worth any trouble it caused.

“No sweetheart, in fact, it would make her happy. You know how she smiles after I give her a kiss?” Annie tentatively nods, and Matty continues, “Well there's this thing at Christmas that grown-ups do called mistletoe, and if you go under it together, you have to kiss the other person.”

Annie's face immediately crumples into a disgusted look that has Matty lightly laughing and squeezing her sides, “don't worry, peanut, you won't ever have to do it if you don’t want to.” her face lights back up, and Matty secretly hopes she doesn't participate in the tradition until she's at least 30.

“y/n has said she’ll only kiss me if I catch her under the mistletoe, so I want you to help me surprise her with one. How does that sound?” he looks down at Annie, whose eyes are sparkling with mischief already.

God, she really was his daughter. 

She nods excitedly, and Matty starts tickling her all over, telling her all about how fun their secret spy missions are going to be.

You sneak back to the kitchen, grinning to yourself at the idea of Matty roping in his daughter just so he can kiss you. You have to give it to him, he's definitely determined. 

Just as you're finishing off some tea for you and Matty, you feel a familiar pair of hands slide around your waist. A wave of deja vu washes over you as they do.

“No ill intentions this time, baby, I swear. Just wanted to touch my girl” Matty says softly into your ear before hugging you properly from the back, putting his head in your neck and breathing in your perfume as he does. He thinks that scent might be the most soothing one in the world.

Matty never told you this, but once he found out what perfume you wear, he bought some for himself. He somehow convinced himself that it wasn't creepy or stalker-like, that he simply liked the smell. But when it wasn't on you, it didn't feel the same. It didn't have the same all-encompassing warmth behind it. 

“Well, let’s go cuddle on the sofa, my love. Just no kissing,” you say, leaning back into Matty with your eyes closed in bliss. As you turn in his arms and meet his eyes, you teasingly wag your finger at him. He simply looks at you with enough love to make you dizzy. 

The two of you plod your way over to the sofa, clearly ready to relax. As Matty sits down, he lifts his arm for you to wiggle into his side. As you lean your head on his chest and burrow your nose in, you feel him relax, and you audibly sigh. The comfort overtakes you, and you fall asleep burrowed into his side, your tea forgotten once Matty drapes a blanket over you.

////////////

A few hours later, you awake to the sound of rushed whispers and giggles. You keep your eyes closed and try and discern what's happening around you. 

“Okay, Annie. Now is the time. Go and get the mistletoe from the kitchen side. And make sure to be really quiet, okay? It's a secret mission, and we want y/n to stay asleep” Matty whispers carefully.

“Okay,” says Annie, trying her best to stay hushed but her excitement can't help but leak into her voice, you hear her small footsteps trailing away and briefly consider getting up and running away. 

But now that Matty has roped Annie in, you can't help but let them win. You weren't going to complain about kissing your boyfriend again. Even the past few hours felt like torture, and the loss of the gentle kisses you shared was worse than you imagined.

You had come to learn Matty's way of showing love was stolen touches. If he could stay attached to you, you're sure he would. Every time he passes you, you get a kiss on the crown of your head or a gentle brush on your back.

If you were out with him, his hand would be in yours. But on the odd occasion he couldn't hold your hand fully, he would simply link your pinky fingers together. He needed a reminder that you were there. You were connected to him.

Despite being together for a little while now, every touch still felt electrified to Matty. He went so long without being able to touch you, and now he could do it whenever he wanted.

So he did.

He does it subconsciously. Even in bed he’ll stroke your arm until he falls asleep. And as Annie skulks around the kitchen, he does the same thing, tracing your arm with a featherlight touch. 

You hear the pitter-patter of Annie's feet running back in and wait patiently until you feel her standing over you to flutter your eyes open and act shocked. The gasp escapes your lips just as laughter escapes Annies. Matty smiles down at you, too, looking quite proud of himself for his seemingly master plan. 

“You didn't even manage to last a day, my love. What a shame. you're going to have to kiss me now” he says, shrugging his shoulders and leaning in. 

“Oh you two are cheeky, well if I have to” Your stress on the word only pulls more giggles from Annie and earns you a disparaging head shake from Matty. 

You and Matty only share a small peck with Annie there, although you can feel Matty’s tongue poke at your lips instinctively before pulling back for an innocent kiss. 

Annie cheers as Matty leans in to hug you, just as you're settling in his arms you feel his hot breath on your neck and hear him whisper, “I knew you were awake that whole time by the way. Just couldn't resist kissing me, hmm?” 

You pull back with a smirk and press another kiss to his cheek brazenly, winking at him as you do.

[jiyansthesis]

NOT A ROOKIE ☆ ANYMORE

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

x fem reader

summary: it's been a few years, and you've quickly made it up the ranks with your craftmanship and sheer skill when it comes to hand-to-hand combat and guns. when you get put on a new mission, you never guessed who would be there to save you

note: part 2!! honestly some people wanted to know when pt.2 came out, so should i make a taglist for my ghost fics? just comment or msg me if you want me to put you on it! i don't really like this i feel like it's so rushed or something?? idk it doesn't click. THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING A KISSING SCENE PLEASE B NICE

tw: brief mention of non-con (but does not happen to any character in past or during this ff)

pt.1 // not proofread

☆☆.

shadow.

shadows can be your greatest fear, not knowing what lies in the darkness ahead of you. an enemy, or is it your mind playing tricks on you?

it can also be a safe haven, a refuge from the blistering sun, or other things.

but that can simply be a facade, a trap for others to fall into.

using the shadows to your advantage can be lethal. being quiet, deliberate in your actions as you sneak up behind someone and take them out without causing alarm.

when harnessed correctly, shadows can be your greatest weapon.

. .

"i've got him in my sights. ready when you are." you said, staring at the back of your target's head through your scope.

you waited for confirmation, but no response came.

"captain?" you spoke, even momentarily taking your eyes off the man who isn't aware of what's about to be his untimely demise to inspect your radio.

"fuck." you wouldn't shoot without orders, having learned your lesson way back, during the mission right after you met ghost. that mission also led you to be called shadow.

you heard a crackle, and what you could make out to be, "go."

you immediately put your finger on the trigger, realigning your gun, and once you were ready, you let out a deep exhale and added pressure, the recoil always making you blink against your will. you watched as the man almost immediately slumped over.

"target down." you began packing up your gear and gun, trying to get to the rendezvous before anyone came to check out the noise.

"shadow. shadow, can you hear me? shadow, how copy?" you heard.

"captain? what's wrong?" you asked, already going down the stairs of the building, sprinting.

"did you shoot?" price sounded slightly worried.

"yes. didn't you give me the affirmative?" did you mishear him? fuck, the only reason why he wouldn't want you to shoot was probably because you shot the wrong target. "don't fucking tell me i shot the wrong person."

"no, you got the right one alright. i just need you to watch out. turns out a lot of people have already found out about your little assassination. they were ready for it. be careful making your way back. i've got a little surprise waiting for you here."

"a prize? you finally rewarding me for my hard work?" you chuckled, now on even higher alert for soldiers coming at you.

"honestly, it's up to you if you think if it's a prize."

"is it a medal? i fucking hate medals. the fuck am i gonna do with them?" you scowled, the balaclava you had on shifting as your nose scrunched up.

"nah, you might actually like this. just get here safe."

"i'm looking forward to this, price. don't disappoint me. or i'll make sure you won't touch another cigarette in your life." you grinned as you stuck to the darker areas, trying your best not to be seen by coincidence.

you paused, hearing loud footsteps. you could tell that it wasn't only one person, but multiple.

"fuck," you whispered under your breath. you took out your knife and strapped your gun onto yourself, ready to do some close combat.

you saw them turn the corner, seeing three men, all armed with guns. there was no way you were going to be able to take them all down, but you can hope that they wouldn't notice you.

you pulled your balaclava down even more on instinct, waiting for one of them to sound the alarm and shoot.

you stayed close to the wall, thankful for the shadows that were keeping you from their line of sight.

two of the men split off, turning left before they could make it to you, but one kept making his way over. as soon as he made it in arm's length to you, you quickly covered his mouth and lodge your knife into his throat, watching as he struggled.

"sorry man, i just had to." you frowned as you let him go to eventually die on the floor, retrieving your knife.

you continued on, realizing that the other two had went the way that you had to go. there was no other route that you could go on.

"fucking hell," you grabbed your gun again, ready to fire before the duo could notice you.

you followed them, and sooner or later you caught up. they kept walking, deep in conversation. letting out two quick shots, they had no time to react.

"that was unfair, wasn't it?" you said to yourself. as you made your way around the bodies, trying to get as far as possible before another group came along.

sadly enough, you couldn't get far enough before another trio intercepted your path, also all armed with guns.

you quickly raised your arms up. how the fuck were you getting out of this one?

"what are you doing here?" one of the men said, and you realized that you were far enough way from everyone you've killed for them to even known what you've done. maybe you could play off being one of them, but that would be very hard considering the fact your gear was so much different from theirs.

you looked at him questioningly as if you couldn't understand him, simply letting out a "huh?"

the trio looked at each other, then back at you. you weren't tricking anyone with the tactical gear you had on and gun in hand.

"come with us," one of them smirked. this fucking can't be good.

you knew you were outnumbered, especially with all of them having guns. there was no way you were going to be able to run away or get past killing one of them before you got shot down.

you nodded hesitantly, and the three huddled around you, one of them holding a metal barrel to your head. you could feel it through the fabric, and you began sweating. this was the closest to death you've ever been, and one wrong move could be the last move you would ever make.

they led you away from the bodies, and closer to where you were originally going to go, thankfully, and you made it to a big house, in better shape than all the other house around.

a cloth quickly made its way over your eyes, and someone pushed you to the floor, tying your legs together, but for some reason not tying your hands together, when that's the most useful thing you could have in this situation. you felt the weight of your gun being taken off your body and be set somewhere else.

"just wait a moment sweetheart, someone will be here to talk to you. they'll be so happy to see you," you could hear that guy smirk. when you got out of this situation, you would make sure you pinned his fucking balls to the wall.

you could feel their presence leave the room, and you went straight to your radio.

"price, you there?" you lowered your voice, not knowing when they could come back.

"shadow, where are you? you should've made it back by now." price responded.

"i've been captured. i'm in some big house, in better shape than all the houses around. it's not that far from the rv point. it's on the route i was taking."

"fucking hell. how many are there? you hurt?"

"i don't know. there was three men bringing me in, said they were going to go get someone. i haven't been hurt- yet." you heard a door open and slam shut, followed by what you guessed was four people.

"look who we have here. ain't you a pretty one, darling?" you made sure to take your hand off the transmission button after he spoke, so price wouldn't respond and get your radio taken away or even worse, cause you to be moved to a different building.

that must be the guy they retrieved, but what the fuck was he going to do with you. you stayed silent.

"not talkative, huh? been a while since i saw someone as cute as you walking around." you felt a force lift your chin up.

you knew that if you did anything too rash, they would shoot you. it's obvious they don't want you for any intel, so that means you're easily disposable.

"i've been looking for a sweet little girlie like you. wonder what you can do." he released you, and said. "why's her hands not tied?"

"didn't have enough rope, sir. you'll already have her tied up in that bed of yours anyways."

they all burst out in laughter and you frowned in disgust. that's what they were doing? you decided to try and get up, placing your hands on the floor to drag yourself upright, when something sharp pressed against your neck. ironic to be threatened in the same way that you killed one of their men.

"don't try anything." the guy you assumed was their superior crooned into your ear, making you shiver. and not in a good way.

sticking to not speaking, you nodded, and the blade's pressure disappeared from your neck.

"good girl," they praised, but you cringed inwardly. you would've smiled hearing that come from anyone else's mouth, especially a certain someone. a certain someone you wished could come save your ass already, but you haven't seen them in years.

simon really was a ghost. you let out a chuckle at your own thoughts.

"something funny?" another person questioned. you shook your head quickly.

"leave her here. and go get some more rope, you think some rope around her legs are going to stop here from leaving? fucking idiots."

you laid the side of your head down on the ground, and slowly began lifting up the blindfold around your eyes.

you heard the scrape of a chair, and then the guy, who you were going to call, "the boss", sat down with a sigh.

"who do you work for?" he asked. "nevermind, that's a stupid question. i bet you're with those fucking assholes who killed our leader."

you smirked a little. little did he know you were said asshole who killed him.

"fuck this. those bastards can't find anything even if it was up their ass." you could hear the rustle of clothes as he stood up and felt him grip your wrist.

"what the fuck are you doing?" you spat. you could take him on in a fight as long as no one walked in with a weapon.

"the only reason why you're still alive babe, is beca-" he was cut off by the sound of yelling and gunshots.

"is that your fucking friends?" you heard him growl.

you shrugged. "probably," you cheerily agreed as you grabbed onto his hand that was on your wrist and twisted it as hard as you could, causing him to yelp in pain.

he let go of you and you grabbed your knife, not needing to see where it was due to memory, and quickly cut through the ropes around your ankles, standing up before the boss tackled you, pinning you to the floor.

you didn't need to see to quickly flip him over, trained in being able to overpower even the strongest person. you brought your legs over his back and used your weight and his momentum to make you the one on top. you didn't know if he still had his knife on him, and didn't take any chances. you brought your blade down on his leg, and he howled.

taking this chance, you ripped the blindfold off and made eye contact with the person in front you, some ragged looking person who could be in his late 30s.

"disgusting." you spat as he held his leg, tears streaming down his face. you saw no weapon on him, and you weren't going to wait around for someone else to come along and attack you.

you got up, getting rope and tying his wrists together, doing what he and his men didn't do to you, and you knew he wasn't going to be walking anywhere anytime soon. you put the blindfold around his mouth and held a finger up to your lips.

"you should be more fucking quiet like a good boy." you stood up, running out the room with your gun to the commotion coming from the front of the house.

peering out from a corner to make sure you weren't going to run out into a bunch of bullets, you saw a familiar man with a mask, and four men on the floor, one in the grasp of who you never expected to see.

"nice to see you're alive, rookie." ghost said as the man he carried crumpled to the ground.

"rookie?" you raised an eyebrow, only to realize he couldn't see you do that since half of your face was covered.

"got a mask of your own?" he walked up to you, and he still had so much height over you, looking down at you as you looked up.

"personally, i think mine is much cooler. it looks better on me." you laughed.

"shadow, you there?"

"nice call sign, shadow," ghost let the name roll of his tongue and your cheeks heated up.

pressing a button, you responded.

"i'm here, price. is this your little surprise?"

"couldn't stop him from going. he was eager to retrieve you."

you shot a questioning look at simon, who wasn't looking at you anymore, but instead looking if anyone else was in the house.

"what are you even doing here?" you asked ghost.

"well, i came to help you guys find someone for your next mission, but i think you already found him," he pointed behind you, and you turned to see the piece of shit crawling over to the two of you. how he even made it this far was beyond you, using his soldiers to propel himself forward.

"this fucking bitch?" you scoffed.

"i see the two of you already met," he noted the stab wound in the man's leg and the rope around his wrists.

"you wouldn't believe what he wanted to do with me."

ghost narrowed his eyes.

"he wanted to do something with you?"

"how else do you think i'm alive right now?"

"sheer will. i heard you've gotten good at close combat." ghost went over to the man and crouched over, and the guy looked up in terror.

"what the fuck should we do with you?" he hummed.

"do we have to bring him back alive?" you asked. you would not hesitate to lift your gun and shoot him.

ghost didn't respond, instead going back over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder that made you jump in surprise. the last time you were this close was when he was taking debris out your arm on that first mission.

"do whatever you want. we don't need him."

you grinned. "yes, lieutenant."

☆☆.

you were happy to be back on the base. that was probably the biggest stroke of luck you've ever had, being captured by the stupidest enemies you've ever seen, and by so few of them being at the house with you.

price was happy to see you back, and presented the prize you already knew about.

"aren't you happy to see ghost?"

"beyond elated. i'm currently pissing my pants of joy right now." the sentence might've sounded sarcastic, but you broke out into a huge smile.

looking over at ghost, you saw his eyes had a glimmer of amusement in them.

"i'll be in the other room. come over if you need me,"

you took off your balaclava and tactical vest and weapons as soon as you got in the room, sitting down on the cot. as soon as you swung your legs up and laid down to take a short nap, a rapid series of knocks sounded at the door.

you groaned, going over to open it to reveal ghost.

"simon?"

"can i come in?" he said gruffly.

you gestured for him to make his way in, and you shut the door.

"anything you want, lieutenant?" you emphasized his rank, still remembering the first time the two of you met.

"you ever gonna show me some respect, shadow?"

you held a hand to your heart, letting out a dramatic gasp. "me? not showing you respect? let me apologize."

you could see his eyes roll.

"since you seem like you were going to take a nap, i want to do some close combat with you. need to see how good you got since you were a rookie." it sounded less of an invitation and more of a demand.

"you asking me as a superior or am i allowed to decline?" you put your hands on your hips, tilting your head.

"are you really going to say no?"

"absolutely not. anything to fucking beat your ass."

☆☆.

the two of you were lying on the floor, and you were sweating. hard.

"thought you were better with guns, simon." you exhaled.

"thought you were better at hand-to-hand combat," he retorted.

you glared at him. "i will pulverize your ass."

he didn't reply, and you took the chance to get up and make him get up also.

"one more. whoever wins gets bragging rights."

"bragging rights?" he questioned, but you already began throwing punches and attempting to get him to fall.

he blocked majority of them, but you didn't let him have a chance to get offensive, instead opting to simply go for his waist and push him to the floor, with you attached. this led to you bear hugging his waist, your face in his chest.

you accidentally took a huge inhale through your nose, and you could smell him. he smelled like gunpowder, dust, and. . . wood?

"are you fucking sniffing me, y/n?"

"well, i'm fucking breathing, aren't i?" you could feel him attempt to flip you over but you kept yourself grounded.

"fucking christ. check where your legs are at." ghost groaned, and you peered down to see your leg against. . .

"holy shit, i'm so fucking sorry," ghost took this opportunity to successfully flip you over, and now you were pinned down again. for the second time today, too.

the space between you too was so small, and you could feel his body pressing on yours. your breathing sped up at the distance.

you've been infatuated with the masked man ever since you met him, never being able to forget those moments you had with him. those times you got to work with him, which was barely, had you cherishing those memories of him.

price obviously caught on, which was why he was calling ghost a prize. a prize you were happy to get today.

ghost could tell the look on your face with your half-lidded eyes and parted lips.

he leaned even closer.

"something wrong?" you could hear the smirk.

"fuck off," you turned your face to the side.

"look at me." you immediately went back to glare at him, but you couldn't with how close you were. "i asked you a question."

"nothing's wrong, ghost."

"so if i checked your heartbeat, it would be normal?"

"you trying to touch me, lieutenant?"

"so what if i am?" you had no response to that, opening and closing your mouth, trying to find the words to represent how you were feeling.

the two of you stayed in silence, just like usual, until you broke it.

"can i kiss you?" you murmured.

"close your eyes." you did as he said, and heard the sound of his mask being pulled up, followed by the feeling of his lips pressing against yours. he didn't let go off you wrists, leaving you to have to lean forward to return the kiss.

you kissed as if you had been thinking about this for years, which you had, and he kissed as if this was something that his life depended on. something that he's needed and has been craving desperately.

you never opened your eyes, waiting for the moment he decides to show you himself on his own terms. besides, doesn't it add to the mystery?

he pulled away much quicker than you wanted him to, pouting. you heard him as he slipped his mask back on and told you to open your eyes.

"sorry gorgeous. remember, i'm too pretty to be showing you my face. might dazzle you too much."

you laughed.

"i'm always ready to be dazzled by you, simon. you've dazzled me since the moment we met."

"oh really? you like it when guys insult you?"

"makes me feel like i've done something." you accepted the hand he held out to help you up as he stood.

"definitely have done something to me," he spoke to himself.

you grinned. seems like you both can dazzle people.

☆☆.

i absolutely despise this. i apologize sm

tags !!

@urfavsunkissedleo @shyyxzi

[moodymisty]

Hello🌻I hope you are doing well✨ Do you write in Warhammer? I saw this in the list of fandoms, but if not, I apologize a thousand😅 So, Sanguinius/reader-eternal. A moment of rest. Suppose there was some kind of difficult battle, and returning to his chambers after a victorious battle, Sanguinius feels tired and empty, he is dirty from blood and dirt, his hair is tangled, his wings have also lost their whiteness. And so he enters his chambers and smells a pleasant, but unfamiliar smell. The reader, anticipating in what state he would return, prepared a bath and took out her personal bathroom things (gels, shampoos, salts, candles, perfumes - with such smells that no one in the Imperium had seen since the Dark Era) and even more valuable to her (let it be a gift from parents or something) some kind of music player. Well, the reader comforts Angel, turns on music from his youth (maybe Beethoven, Wagner, Tchaikovsky or whatever you like best)), bathes him, takes care of his hair, nails and all that. How you can make his wings comfortable, I can’t imagine🤔 but in general, the reader was able to wash them somehow) Tells stories of plants, fruits, and animals that no primarch could ever see. About your favorite music, some kind of warm memory. Well, something like that😅 sorry if this is too long. In general, you can change the conditions to suit your comfort❤

Author's Note: So I was actually thinking of something somewhat similar to write in my own time because I'm a lonely primarch/astartes fucker for Guilliman (or pre-heresy Lorgar but that's just my 'I can fix him' mental illness talking) So when you sent this in I just about ascended. Emperor save my heretical ass for making this way too fluffy for Warhammer.

Relationships: Sanguinius/Fem!Reader

Warnings: It's 40k lol so references to war and all sorts of violence but other than that, just fluff. Also the slightest hint at the BA astartes being a bit platonic yandere for their Primarch's beloved because it's my headcanon. Enjoy petting the pigeon primarch y'all

For someone as primped and perfect as Sanguinius- A beautiful angel with not a hair out of place or word said without the most careful of consideration, his personal quarters are an absolute mess.

Feathers of all sizes lay scattered across the floor and the giant bed that adorns the massive room, its blankets strewn about and slept in multiple times without being made up in-between. In all of it’s disheveled look, it looks comfortable to say the least.

It's not as if you actually mind the mess, it's not bad enough to even really call it one, but it's simply amusing to think of someone as borderline ethereal as Sanguinius sleeping in a messy, wrinkled bed adorned with his own down.

The Blood Angel guards posted in the hall had allowed you to pass into his quarters without fuss, one of many privileges that you're still getting used to. They nodded towards you and spoke with that Astartes specific rigid but technically polite prose; Seeped in a level of respect you don't feel entirely deserving of.

Sanguinius' angelic sons are, intense. Any other word you think of is too negative in it's definition, or doesn't accurately describe this feeling of heavy downward pressure on your body you get whenever you are close to them. They have a protective quality that has only seemed to intensify the closer you've gotten to their genefather, as you can feel eyes on your back until the door closes behind you and the guards only then return to their vigilant watch of the palace halls.

Sometimes, you swear they're following you.

A pondering for another time perhaps, as you look around the messy quarters holding your things in your hands.

Sanguinius is due to return to Terra at any moment now, and after so long with only vox messages and handwritten letters, you've decided to attempt to surprise him. You probably won't be able to do so, but you can at least prepare him something that will hopefully brighten up his spirits. You can tell from his slip ups in tone that some things have been grating on him like waves on a cliffside.

You'll do anything to make sure that the Angel, your Angel, never looses that glow that seems to follow him; And perhaps steal some of those rare snippets of time to have him just to yourself. Even if only for a moment.

In the separate room that serves as his private bath you begin to run hot water, billows of steam quickly rising to the ceiling and covering the metal adornments around the room with dew. It pours out the open door, as you sit your bag on the edge and pull out various different things. Some sourced from other planets, one from your father who all but fainted upon your asking of it for a Primarch, all being hard to obtain; Little bundles of rare luxury. You fully intend to make use of them all. They smell like flowers and sea salt, far better than the scent of the iron and filth-covered armor aboard the Red Tear.

Though your ears prick to the sound of heavy footsteps before you can fully finish setting up, and you lean up and away from the massive bath and leave the room only just as Sanguinius himself enters. In saying any moment, you seem to have been perfectly accurate.

The first thing you notice of him, besides your joy of seeing him, is he has primary feathers that are bent and sticking out away from the natural pattern of his wings, a few even cracked and torn. He's already gone though the necessary process to remove his armor, and now he's clad in the usual and more comfortable garb he would wear when originally on Baal.

While Sanguinius himself is unharmed, not a single wound and the blood dried on himself not his own, he still is disheveled and messy; Hair tangled from being blown in the wind and getting caught in the raised collar of his armor. You can see mud staining the tips of his wings where it splattered upward, unable to fully protect them from whatever muck he came in contact with.

"I know,"

He sees the look on your face, and his gentle stoicism parts ever so slightly as his lips part. His eyes show the glint of irritation through his long lashes as he looks slightly downward and to the side with a furrowed brow.

"I look a mess. there is no need to point it out. Believe me when I tell you someone else has already done so." He normally wouldn't be fond of something laughing at his current condition, but he supposes he can find the entertainment in it. It's an easier thing to swallow when it's his little beloved doing so. The sound of your quiet, breathily laugh is soothing more than aggravating, and he enjoys the look of sweet mirth plastered on your face. While it may be somewhat at his expense, he doesn't mind all too much considering.

"Well, then you might like the surprise I made up for you even more." His lips crook upward in the most gentle of smirks; Though he was more than likely instantly cued into your gift by the feeling of steam wafting from the other room into this one.

"If not just to get all the dirt from your wings."

At the mere mention of it you watch his wings stretch, shaking slightly as he attempts to right feathers stuck out of alignment. He reaches for the front of his robes as he walks towards the bath.

"I hope you didn't prepare all of this only for me to enjoy it alone. I'd find myself dreadfully bored without any company." You shake your head, following the angel into the bath while he quickly begins to slip into the hot water. You move in not long after, the water almost too hot on your skin, but the feeling of the steam on your face is pleasant.

He attempts to stretch his wings; Though not many rooms can handle his wings fully unfurled. The main room of his quarters when his bed resides can, but in here he finds the tips of his primary flight feathers brushing against the wall. When you attempt to move closer, he furls his wings back up to avoid you bumping them. It lets you reach close enough to his hair, where you wet it with the hot water and watch his eyes gently close. You watch as his hair slowly becomes clean even after so long, golden sheen returning as the soot washes away.

"I have been so besieged by the smell of crude oils and sweat as of late, I swear I'd forgotten what flowers smelled like..."

He smiles when the sound of your quiet, breathy laugh hits his ears, though you still continue treating him. He might have normally apposed to such obnoxious pampering, but you seem to enjoy it, and he’ll partake in a moment of selfishness.

“Let me enjoy this moment without your mockery, will you?” Your fingers weave into his golden hair, just a bit wavy even with the water weighing it down.

"Terribly sorry, Lord Primarch." How he hates that stuffy title; His nose wrinkles. When you notice his doing so, you laugh again.

"It's the title my father used when I told him I needed some of these things." His eyes open to watch you for a moment.

"They're made of flowers from my home planet; When I said they were for The Angel Sanguinius, I swear he choked on his own spit then and there. Thought I had finally killed him."

He listens to you mumble about their origin for a short while, if for nothing more than to fill the silence. The water is no longer running, so other than the occasional splash of water the room is near silent.

You feel the brush of his feathers against your bare skin as they adjust, the water turning color as the grime slips from them and they return to their pristine white color. After all this time he finally feels clean, such a luxury he's been unable to indulge in for quite some time. Perhaps he’s odd in that regard, hating it far more than some of his fellow Primarchs.

He feels you ever so gently brush along a feather to align it with the others, fingers gentle like touching the thinnest glass. His eyes are still closed while you do so. Your gentleness of it isn’t lost on him, as he feels lips against the corner of his mouth.

A rare moment of peace; He'll indulge in it while he has the chance.

[belit0]

Uchiha Rehab - Indra's turn

I, as a writer, decided the Uchihas need to meet with each other, talk about what is happening inside them out loud, and stop keeping all the bad things within. The curse is as strong as they allow it to be, and I will force them to free themselves from it with the best method of all: group therapy. Just like AA meetings, each Uchiha will have to stand up in front of their family and talk. They will not be able to avoid these meetings, and the only way to stop attending is to take responsibility for what is wrong with them. The longer they delay talking, the more meetings they will have to endure.

(The Uchiha protagonist's dialogues will always be composed by one of my favorite songs, the one that I feel best identifies them, if you guess which one it is, let me know!)

Our first volunteer, against all odds, is Indra, so please give him a round of applause, and let's hear what he has to say.

Indra stands up from his folding chair and takes the podium, settling behind the pedestal and holding the wooden edges as if it would give him some kind of real stability. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply before starting to speak, gathering strength to expose himself in front of his family.

Uchiha rehabilitation is as cool as it is harsh.

"Greetings. My name is Indra.”

“Hi Indra.” all the Uchiha answer, following the law of the not-so-anonymous meetings.

“But you already know me. I wanted to preface my segment today by simply asking..." He looks at his family, each man with red eyes fixed on him and waiting for him to spew his feelings all over them, "Am I the only one I know… waging my wars behind my face and above my throat?"

It is a rhetorical question, not expecting any kind of answer, and he lowers his gaze to concentrate his thoughts, direct the stream of words he wants to say, and give coherence to what he is trying to explain.

"I've got a migraine, and my pain will range from up down, and sideways." Out of the corner of his eye, he feels one of his family members nod, another takes a sip of coffee, and some idiot coughs, "It always seems so dismal…. like thunderstorms, cloud, snow and a slight drizzle. It’s really strong, and sometimes death seems better than it."

"DON'T SAY SUCH THINGS, GRANDPA!" Moronic Obito yells, desperate as if Indra might kill himself right there in front of them. He doesn't look up, but hears a hand impact on the back of Obito's head, probably Shisui trying to get sense into him.

"Let it be said what the headache represents." He dares to meet his audience, resting an eternal second on each one to make sure he has their attention. Obito has tears in his eyes, but that's a separate conversation. "It's me defending in suspense, it's me suspended in a defenseless test, being tested by a ruthless examiner that's represented best by my depressing thoughts."

"You're depressed too, Grandpa? But you look fine, there's no way-" This time it's Sasuke who asks, and Itachi who slaps him on the back of the head for the tactlessness of his words.

"Yes, of course I fucking am, and sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head." Here they all shout a unison "NO", and if he wasn't so focused on being able to explain the constant pressure he feels in his chest, he would slap them one by one. Anger also grows, and he ends up speaking too loudly to quiet the hubbub created by his statement. "I AM NOT AS FINE AS I SEEM YOU IDIOTS!"

Everyone falls silent again, and palpable anger in his eyes generates real attention from the Uchiha. "Pardon me for yelling… I know I pretend an idyllic image, but not everything is exactly what it appears to be. I'm telling you green gardens are not what's growing in my psyche."

No one dares to say anything, expectant of his next words.

"I feel like a difficult beast feasting on burnt-down trees, let me paint a mental picture portrait, something you won't forget. It's all about my forehead, and how it is a door that holds back contents. It makes Pandora's box contents look nonviolent."

"Why didn't you speak up earlier, Grandpa?" Madara asks, but no one dares to hit him. In fact, it is Izuna who provides a follow-up "Yes! Why!" to support his inquiry. The rest give them dirty looks, and Itachi sighs resignedly before saying "Please continue, grandfather."

Indra ignores everything going on around him for his own good, for he knows stopping even for a second will mean not being able to explain what's on the tip of his tongue, and he'll have to keep attending these stupid meetings. "Behind my eyelids are islands of violence, my mind's shipwrecked, my current mental state is the only land I could find. I did not know it was such a violent island tho, full of tidal waves, and suicidal crazed lions. They're trying to eat me, blood running down their chin, and I know that I can fight or I can let the lion win-"

"Wait, suicidal lions? This is too metaphorical, I'm getting lost, I don't understand how-"

"Obito, you need to shut the fuck up this instant."

"But-"

"Right, this, instant. Grandpa, how do you deal with it?"

"I assemble what weapons I can find, because sometimes to stay alive you gotta kill your mind."

"Wait wait wait wait! I will say that we should take a day to break away, right? From all the pain our brain has made!" Izuna speaks this time, looking for an excuse to free himself from the uncomfortable meetings the family is forced to go through. "I will say that we should take a moment and hold it, keep it frozen and know that life has a hopeful undertone!" He looks to the others for approval, glancing at each member of the session, but gets no allies. None of them want to be there, but this is the only way to be free of the curse that condemns them.

Talk.

"But… Am I the only one I know? Waging my wars behind my face and above my throat? Shadows will scream that I'm alone..." Indra resumes his initial question, lowering his gaze again as he does not expect answers.

"Grandfather… we've made it this far." Itachi, against all odds, affirms.

“Kid… I guess we've made it this far… yes…”

[aloneinthehellfire]

For the RH Reader Version can we pretty please get the scene in RH4 where reader faints in the Upside Down (she wakes up in Eddie's arms)? I've been longing to find out what happened in between, like with character interactions and how she ends up in Eddie's lap? Love u and ur work btw 💜

ooh you won't believe this, but this has been saved in my drafts from where i had started writing scenes for (eddie's version) and now i get to share this with all my eddie loves <3

RAINING HELLFIRE (READER'S VERSION)

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood/death, not proof-read because i wrote this on a lunch break from uni

Set in RH4: Chapter 12: Riding To Freedom

Find all Raining Hellfire works here <3

Summary: Just when Eddie started thinking they'd never find you, you quite literally show up at their door... sporting a knife and a terrified expression.

[A/N: Whilst we are all aware that Eddie isn't the endgame, I hope we can still appreciate that they have a bond that could never be broken, even if it isn't romantic]

RH4: THE THIRD TIME EDDIE THOUGHT HE LOST YOU

When you had come creeping in through that door holding a knife, that petrified look on your face, Eddie felt so… weak.

His heart had jumped at the sight of you stood there, alive. He was so afraid when he found Steve in the Upside Down alone, rambling about you being dragged away. Part of him always knew you would survive. You were strong. Stronger than him, at least.

But now here you were, staring at them like they weren’t real, a shaky hand aiming the knife at your friends. You thought this was all in your head, you were doubting yourself, that strength he had grown so accustomed to shattering your armour into pieces. He wasn’t going to let you lose control so easily.

“Queen of the Demogorgons.” Eddie suddenly blurts and everyone looks to him, confused. He makes sure he’s in your line of vision before continuing. “That’s the name I gave you when you stopped that fight with Tommy. You… You called me King of the Freaks. Would Vecna even care enough to know that?”

You stand there for a moment, pondering the thought. He waits in bated breath for you to believe him. For a moment, he thought you wouldn’t, and then you were letting out a shaky breath and lowering the knife until it slipped from your fingers and clattered on to the floor.

“Thank god.” Robin mumbled under her breath behind him and he feels his shoulders relax.

“You okay?” Nancy asks tentatively, being the first to move toward you. Eddie watches in silent disdain as you wipe a tear from your eye, a strange look on your face.

“Um… actually…” You try, but then you’re blinking rapidly and his stomach drops.

“Y/n?” He takes one step forward and suddenly you’re on the floor, eyes fluttering shut. “Shit.”

He runs over, still calling your name. But you’re not responding.

“What happened?” Steve asks to no one particular, crouching beside you as well as Nancy shakes her head in disbelief.

“I don’t know, I don’t-” Her words are cut off and Eddie whips his head to her, following where her trembling hands hovered. Your stomach was covered by a dark red jumper. Which, to Eddie’s sudden burn of panic, he realised it was never the original colour.

“Shit, okay, shit-” Steve spits out, suddenly spinning around to where Robin stood, her eyes wide. “There could be a first aid kit around here somewhere, maybe the kitchen-”

“Bathroom.” Nancy nods, her hands already applying pressure on your stomach. “Upstairs, to the right.”

“Okay.” Robin nods quickly, flailing her arms as she finds the staircase and starts sprinting her way up, barely balancing herself.

“What do we do?” Eddie asks in a whispered voice, not liking the way your lips looked paler. He was scared, way too scared to be able to help you when you looked like this.

“We need to wrap the wound.” Steve states, much more confident in his decisions than Eddie could ever be. That’s probably why you picked him in the end.

“I don’t have…” Nancy glances down at herself, frowning. Her eyes start darting around the room. “Maybe the curtains, or the… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

As she and Steve debate over various materials, unsure of if it would only add an infection if they pressed something from the Upside Down against it, Eddie took look at himself and already knew what he needed to do.

“I got it.” Eddie decides, standing up and slipping his jacket off. Nancy looked surprised, but nodded nonetheless and started peeling away the jumper from your wound.

“What’re you doing?” Steve frowns up at him as Eddie slips his Hellfire shirt over his head. He chucks it over at him.

“Rip that up.” He orders, already slipping his jacket back on. “I don’t care how much you use.”

Steve stared at him for a minute, an unrecognisable expression on his face.

“Steve.” Nancy snaps him away from Eddie and nods, making quick work of ripping up the one shirt Eddie held dearest to him. It was Hellfire, the decision that changed his high school life forever, his way of being a hero to all the sheep in need of their shepherd. But you needed him right now. And that trumped everything else.

He’s not sure what else he can do as Nancy hisses at the blood pouring from your stomach. The wound matches those currently scattered across Steve, who was currently looking like it pained him to realise.

“She tried saving me.” He says and Eddie looks at him, noting the way Steve’s eyes never left your face. “Using those… powers. If she hadn’t, maybe Vecna wouldn’t have found her.”

“Vecna took her?” Eddie frowns. Steve didn’t inform them of this the first time he explained your disappearance.

“I think I heard him.” He nods slowly, finally meeting Eddie’s eyes. “He’s not gonna stop until he has her. We need to get her out of here before he tries anything again.”

Eddie can’t help his eyes drift to the darkened table behind him, your scratched but still worthy Walkman laying there. He had picked it up from where it had been abandoned in that dried up lake, using it to grasp onto that hope that you were alive.

“I got it! I got… it.” Robin jumps off the bottom step before focusing on them. “Why have you got your shirt off?”

Eddie glances down before slowly zipping his jacket up to hide his bare chest. “Bandages.”

“Uh-huh.” She dismisses, crouching beside Nancy and handing her the bag. “Here.”

“Thanks.” The girl breathes out, rooting through. “Shit.”

“What?” Steve frowns.

“It doesn’t have the stuff I want….” She mumbles before shaking her head and pulling out a bottle. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll use what I can.”

“She’s gonna be okay, right?” Robin asks, eyes shifting between each of their faces. “I mean… it’s Y/n. She always bounces back.”

“Yeah.” Steve says with certainty, but his expression was telling a different story.

“I did what I can, but....” Nancy leans back, your stomach now wrapped in black and white bandages, a splash of red from where Eddie’s logo was peaking through. “I don’t know what else to do.”

They didn’t have time to think about what to do next when something started humming in the walls around them.

“… hey… guys… there?”

It was indistinguishable until Dustin’s voice blared through and Nancy jumped to her feet. When Eddie looked over, he was surprised to see her eyes already on his.

“They got your message.” She smiles and Robin sighs in relief.

“What now?” She questions and Nancy’s eyes are light.

“Now we find a way to communicate.”

Eddie sat on the floor with your head on his lap as the others rushed around him, desperately looking for a Lite Brite that was apparently going to get them home? He wasn’t entirely paying attention. His only focus right now was you.

Nancy was quick-witted, immediately figuring out the best course of action. With a little yelling back and forth, picking up on some words, they managed to decide that they needed to go to her room.

Steve had offered to carry you up, and he would have if Eddie hadn’t suggested that his bites, while they were cool, would make it a little difficult. So Eddie took you instead.

“Got it!” Steve shouted up from the stairs, Eddie paid no attention.

Every so often he would slip his finger to the pulse point in your neck, reassuring himself mostly. He didn’t want to lose you again. Especially not like this.

The first time Eddie lost you was when he decided his pride was more important than your friendship. That night on your porch steps, the look of defeat in your eye when you realised he wasn’t going to let you keep your secrets. He walked away from you, then, knowing he had lost the only person that truly cared about him.

The second time ended with a kiss, thinking it was going to be the last time he saw you. Part of him wishes he hadn’t done that. Kissing you only made each day you were gone that much more painful. He didn’t have someone to laugh with, no one to argue over Lord of The Rings, or even sit and watch those long practice sessions with Corroded Coffin. He thought he would miss your lips, your touch. Turns out, he just missed your presence. He missed his friend.

And now he thinks he might be losing you again. He’s tried so many times to wake you up, subtle to avoid suspicion from the others. They assured him you would be fine, recollections of a fainting that happened three years ago. But he wouldn’t be assured until you were awake and talking.

“How’s she doing?”

He looks up to see Steve stood there, running a hand through his hair as he stares woefully down at you.

“Um… still breathing. Hasn’t woken up yet.” It was stating the obvious, but Steve looked grateful anyway. When he doesn’t move, Eddie frowns. “You good, man?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I, uh…” He stops his thought and does something Eddie didn’t think he would. Steve gestures for him to step aside with him and he’s so confused by the matter that he does exactly that.

Carefully laying you back down, and making sure Robin gave him a thumbs up when she could see he was leaving, Eddie follows Steve out into the hallway.

“What’s up?” He asks sceptically.

Steve leans against the wall, looking like he hadn’t thought it through. It was silent for a few seconds before he finally sighs. “I’m sorry, man.”

Eddie shifts from his position, unfolding his arms. “For what?”

“I…” He begins, tightening his lips. “I know why you and Y/n broke up. I… I only found out last summer but, I, uh… I’m sorry if I ever…”

Is Steve Harrington apologising to me right now? Eddie ponders as he struggles to find a response.

“No… worries.” Eddie frowns and Steve lets out a breathy laugh.

“No, I- I genuinely am sorry.” He persists, checking with a glance that no one was at the door listening in. “I never meant to get between you. And I knew how much she cared about you, still cares.I, uh, I had that happen to me once. I know how shit it feels. If I had known, I swear to you I would never have- shit, I don’t know. I’m just sorry.”

Eddie lowers his head. This feud he had been having with Steve had apparently been completely one-sided for the last two years. He just assumed Steve knew, that you had told him everything you’d argued about, right down to the grit of it. But you hadn’t said anything. And, judging by the look on Steve’s face, you had never said a bad word about him at all.

“It’s not your fault.” Eddie sighs, running a hand down his face. “We weren’t, uh… it wasn’t gonna end well either way. Even if you weren’t there with her that night, we… we probably would have broken up anyway. I was the one that messed up. Not her. Not you.”

“What do you mean?” Steve’s brows pinch together and Eddie lets out a breathy laugh.

“Come on, I’m- I’m resident freak. I snuck around her back, hell, even my uncle’s back for months. And I was so scared of getting found out that I just used the first excuse I could find.” He admits, starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the amount he was sharing. So, he clears his throat and straightens. “I should…”

Steve merely nods and Eddie is free to walk away, back to where Robin was crouched beside you, returning to his post.

“What were you boys whispering about?” Robin asks with raised eyebrows. “Guy stuff?”

“Guy stuff.” Eddie responds with an amused grin. “Don’t you have some weird light shit to get to?”

“Okay, okay.” She raises her hands in surrender and pushes herself to her feet. “I get the hint.”

He didn’t bother looking up when Steve eventually returned to the room, running a hand through his somehow still perfect hair and helping the girls with their set up. I knew how much she cared about you, still cares, he had said. Eddie couldn’t deny how that made his stomach flip just a little.

When you had left last summer, he had expected you’d call, or write, or anything. He expected something. But you hadn’t. It invoked this deep-seeded fear that maybe you realised how much of a screw-up he was. One of the last things he had said to you was that he was dealing drugs, of course it would make you rethink everything. Him. So rather than spend each miserable day laying on his bed and smoking until the marijuana kicked in, he tried to forget you. It was sad. But it was true.

All it did, however, was make him look back on the past three years. You and him meeting, getting off on the wrong foot. Discovering mutual interests, sharing something he hadn’t shared with anyone ever. He loved being around you simply to be around you. He cherished that, and after eight long months he finally realised he wasn’t in love with you anymore.

He just didn’t expect to be thrown into the Upside Down and start questioning everything again. Why the hell was he reminiscing romance when a few short hours ago it never once crossed his mind?

You stir in his arms and he tenses, eyes wide.

“Y/n?”

A soft groan leaves your lips and he’s never been happier to hear it. Your hand instinctively moves to your stomach but he’s quick to stop you, just in case the pressure will cause you pain.

A warm smile stretches his lips when your eyes finally meet his once again, his name falling from your lips. The heavy weight of dread finally lifts from his chest, letting him breathe in the relief that you were okay.

if you would like to request a new pov scene for the Raining Hellfire universe, please feel free to put it into my ask box and I'll get to it when I am available :)

[pure-garbage]

Legendary Hands? The Lockpick's Secret Specialty!

Sanji was the first to finish his shopping. As he reboarded the Merry, happily lugging the crew's groceries, a muffled cry drew his attention.

"Huh?"

"Uurrgh!"

"I know that voice," he mused. "Swordsman?"

He raised an eyebrow high, set his load down on the deck and approached the cabin door. That was where the sounds seemed to be coming from.

"Too hard?" Lana's voice came from behind the door. Sanji's interest was truly piqued now. He crept closer, idly inhaling and exhaling smoke as he eavesdropped.

"No, you're... it feels good," Zoro panted from within.

Lana giggled and a flush crept to Sanji's cheeks. Were they...?

"Can... can you..." Zoro was out of breath, struggling to get the words out. "Are you able to... can you squeeze harder?"

"Like this?"

"Uuhhhh! Oh yeah! Just- just like that! Oh!"

"You have to relax, Zoro. You're way too tense. It'll feel even better if you loosen up. Breathe deep, okay?"

"Uh... huh. Mmmnn!"

"Did that hurt?"

"A little. Felt good too, though."

"Tender?"

"Yeah."

"Right here? I'll be gentle."

"Ah! Nnng! Ughhh..."

"Should I stop?"

"Uh-uh. Don't stop. 'S good... up a little... Uh! Do it harder!"

"Right here?"

"Yeah! Right there! Ah- ah!"

"Too rough?"

"Nuh-uh! Ohhh, Lana!"

"Wow, Zoro, you're so, so stiff!"

Sanji stifled a gasp, ear pressed flat to the door, enraptured.

"Damn, Lana you're s-so good at this... uh! It feels amazing!"

"I can do this as long as you want, okay?"

"Ohhhh..."

"Just tell me if you want me to ease up on the pressure."

Zoro could only manage strained moans and breathless whimpers.

"Uh... grr!" Sanji fumed. The eroticism was wearing off, jealousy taking its place as his mind swam. His imagination was running wild, vision blurring as he pictured the lewd things Lana and Zoro were probably doing on the other side of the door.

"La- La- Oh, Lana!"

"Still good?"

"Nng, 's better than good... ohh, down a little!"

"Here?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Sanji!"

Nami's voice rang out, pulling him back down to earth.

"I'm so glad you're already here! Help me with my bags!"

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion casting a deep shadow over her features as she took note of Sanji's stooped posture and scarlet cheeks.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, leaving her bags behind to loom over Sanji.

"I'm not doing anything wrong, Nami-Swan," Sanji assured her. "Our crewmates, on the other hand-"

"Ugghhh!" Zoro groaned loudly. "Ow, ow... Ohhh..."

"Sorry, too hard?"

"M-Maybe just a little..."

"Hm, so gentle right here?"

"H-h-h- Ah! Uugghhh!"

"This spot can be really sensitive... just relax and breathe deep for me, okay?"

Nami sighed, chuckling lightly.

"Oh, I see. I get what's going on here," she said.

"Mm-hm," Sanji agreed grimly, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "Just like a pair of cats in heat, they can't be left alone together for ten minutes without- huh?"

Nami ignored Sanji and pushed the door open, to his shock and chagrin.

'Good god, I'm gonna see some skin... and Lana won't even be able to blame me since it was Nami who burst in!'

"Hey Lana, Zoro!"

Sanji was almost drooling, neck craning to see...

"Skin, skin, ski- huh?"

The sight that greeted him wasn't what he expected. The only skin on display was Zoro's. He lay shirtless on the couch, turning his face to glare at the interlopers. Lana was on her knees over him, hands kneading the taut muscle of his back.

"Zoro! You tensed up again!" Lana tsked. "Oh, hey Nami. Back already?"

"Gah! Lana, wai- Uhhn!"

She pushed her thumbs hard against both sides of his spine, drawing out a series of cracks, pops and helpless groans as she worked her way up. Zoro had initially thought to tell her to stop now that they weren't alone, but her firm hands pushed the thought completely out of his mind as they marched higher methodically.

"Lana, if I'd have known you were doing back rubs today, I'd have put off my shopping," Nami giggled. "Should I get the nail kit? We can turn this party into a proper spa day."

"Actually, I was giving Zoro a private demonstration," Lana grinned. Sanji watched, jaw slack as the lockbreaker's nimble fingers dug into the swordsman's ample shoulders. Zoro moaned and his eyes rolled back into his head, leaving Sanji fuming.

"Oh come on you big ham, it can't possibly feel that good! You're overdoing it on purpose!" Sanji accused him, outraged. 'Lucky bastard! How could he have the nerve to rub this in my face so hard?! Doesn't he have even a lick of common courtesy?!'

"Nope, Lana's massages are legendary," Nami corrected him. "They're the highlight of girl's night. Right along with my famous mani's and Robin's unrivaled hair braiding, of course."

"G-girl's night?" Sanji stammered. "You have a girl's night?"

"Every Sunday."

'Paradise... how could it have slipped my notice? A hidden utopia... right aboard this very ship! Heaven, right under my nose!' Sanji lamented internally.

"Lana, can you do the neck thing again?" Zoro requested, words muffled by the couch cushions.

"Of course," she replied happily.

Her fingers went to work, thumbs rubbing circles at the base of his skull, gradually moving down to follow the ridge of his spine. He sighed deeply while envy rose in Sanji again.

"Hey, this is all very cute, but if you're both in here rubbing each other, who's keeping watch? You had an important job, you know!" Sanji fumed.

"Robin's got the watch," Lana explained. "Sanji, weren't you getting groceries? I'm getting hungry. Make us something good for dinner and maybe after you can get a back rub too."

"Hey!" Zoro grumbled.

"Oooh, of course, Lana sweetest!" Sanji crooned. "Your wish is my command, after all!"

"Lana!" Zoro protested while Sanji dashed off to retrieve his groceries from on deck. "I don't want you touching Sanji like this!"

"What a double standard," Lana tsked, teasing. "You didn't have anything to say when you found out I give massages to Robin and Nami on a weekly basis."

"Robin and Nami aren't perverts," Zoro grumbled.

Lana chuckled and bent to press a light kiss to his temple.

"Don't get so worked up," she said soothingly, squeezing hard around the nape of his neck the way she now knew he liked. He couldn't hold back a moan as she dug in firmly with the base of her palms, forcing tension out of the muscle artfully.

"I said he could have a massage, but I never said I'd be the one giving it to him," she clarified.

"Mm, devious," Zoro grinned with admiration.

"Now, relax and pay attention. I've got you to myself until dinner."

____________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[sashi-ya]

𝔈𝑦𝔢𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤 +18 äsnödt.x.f!reader

✦ requested by @stygianoir for the valentine's event ➜ For your event, cinnamon and dark chocolate, please For as nodt  Fem reader plz. ➜ I hope you enjoy love! ♡ ✦ tw: dark! content. blood play. mentions of mental health issues. please if you can't stand strong topics do not read, it's As Nodt you won't find something super sweet here. fucking to have a kid as Yhwach requires, if you know the lore you will understand. size kink. vag sex. reader is also a quincy, she has the perfect ability to compliment Äs ~ ✦ wc: 2.3k

Your majesty assigned you to the F Sternritter. You take a look at him.

He isn’t really that tall; his body probably weighs less than a feather. Fear? how scary… Is he that scary?

Long, dark tufts of hair dancing like the claws of the devil in the wind. He is so pale, why is he under the sun? what is he doing? Maybe he enjoys the solitude…?

“Don’t get too close, he is probably going to try and terrorize you” Gisselle tells you; she scares you too and you are still right close to her.

“I mean, there isn’t much to talk to him so…” you mumble back, taking a cracker from the plate.

Gigi laughs. “There is, sweetheart!” she scoffs, jumping away to go search for her beloved Bambi.  You scratch your head. You begin to wonder if this is actually a mental health asylum, and the white uniforms are in reality straitjackets. Am I a Quincy after all?

Some days passed, and, little by little your curious nature begins to root inside you. When will the flower of intrigue finally bloom? Perhaps, tonight.

After so many hours spent into simply watch him sit outside, allowing his pale almost white skin to feed of the sun, you concluded he either likes being alone -or- hates people. Maybe, both. However, you wanted to know him, you really wanted to hear his voice and understand exactly what is exactly his power can do and how he uses it.

And oh, love… didn’t you hear curiosity killed the cat?

“Sir… I was assigned under your order” you murmur, with your white hat in your hand and the uniform feeling like strangling you. Something about him, even if you can only see his long hair raining on his back, makes your skin turn bumpy.

You swallow. You notice him putting his mask up. You can’t see his real face, you never could. He always uses that black mask over.

“You… are you afraid of me?” he asks, the first time you hear his voice and it’s way deeper than you imagined.

You blink, watching the oranges rays of the sunset hitting on the silver Starcross embroidered in his white cape. “I- I am- not. Sir” you answer, trembling. Is he already using his power? Is it ok to tell the Sternritter of Fear that you are actually not scared of him?

Suddenly, he isn’t in front of you but behind you. Cold hands with claw like long nails cover your mouth, like the mask that covers his. The spiritual pressure he imprints in you makes your legs weak, your lips become cold, almost like ice under his touch. A shiver runs through your spine. You can feel his cheek against yours, the spikes of his mask grazing your skin.

“How comes my fear does not work on you? What are you?” he asks, always so calm and yet with a commentary filled of annoyance.

You wanna talk, but your lips are absolutely sealed by how he has you trapped. In any case, you wouldn’t be able to move your lips, you are paralyzed. “Mh…” you mumble, muzzled still and trying to deny side o side.

“You think you can’t move your mouth, but your lips are trembling… I can feel them in my palms… are you cold? Are you scared of me?” he repeats; how dare you tell him you aren’t.

You nod. Some moans escape your throat, it’s all you can do.

Äs lets you go. He turns you around, and his eyes narrow as he looks like he might be smiling under the black covering. Tilting his head to the side, his long hair falls on top of his neck and into the void like a black waterfall.

“Did Giselle tell you I was going to terrorize you?” he asks, trying to sound friendly. (No matter how much he could try, though… he is scary as hell)

You nod. Again. Little to anything is the oxygen flowing to your lungs; you have forgotten how to breathe. You think you are scared, you wanna believe is that what you are feeling.

And yet… what is it? Why can’t you run away? Why you want him to keep doing whatever he is doing with you? You wanna scare me… keep doing it, as long as I can feel that pressure on top of my shoulders… just, once, more.

“I won’t terrorize you, you are working for me and if the Majesty assigned you to me then you should be next to me. Follow me…” he straightforwardly orders you. Where does he wanna go? you have no idea, but you follow him either way.

The cold halls of the Silbern receives yours and his steps. But only yours seems to resonate around. Äs Nödt is like a weightless creature, like a ghost perhaps, crawling through the floors of the silver palace.

He stops right before one of the equally sterile door of many more, and with the same hands that covered your mouth some minutes ago he unlocks the latch. “Come in… please” he mumbles, reinforcing that constant shivering sensation on your back.

You get inside. Everything is made of metallic materials, everything so white and silver. And what else would you expect from a Quincy?

“Nödt-sama… why are we here?” you ask, naïve enough not to understand his true intentions. But really, why would you think of something immoral with him? I mean, does he even know what a woman’s body looks like?

The man in front of you turns around, once again facing you, making you slightly take some steps back, making you feel cold. His black orbs scanning you. Why are those so big?

“You weren’t informed why you were assigned to me?” he asks, really curious and again tilting his head to the side.

You take a quick look at his neck. It’s completely fair… and you wonder if that type of skin would get bruised easily if you were to bite it.

“I asked you something” he impatiently urges you to answer, this time rising his voice a little more.

You shake your head, focus (Name)! “I- I really don’t know. I was told to serve you, sir. I… I can use my bow fine and- I’ve been targeted as a fearless woman by our Majesty himself” you quickly answer. It is true, you were brought as part of the Wanderreich as one top tier Soldat, specially because you weren’t scared of the things most of the others were.

Äs laughs; it makes you jolt from your place. You weren’t sure he could laugh… at all. Why, though, is he laughing?

“Perfection. I’ve read your report! Let’s give our King what he needs, ok?” he whispers, coming closer to you, grabbing you by your nape.

You swallow; exactly… what does he-

His long nails graze your lips, he plays with them, turning them white as he presses down on them. “These are…” he exclaims, amazed at your human beauty. Those claws then, carve in your cheeks. It hurts, it makes you grimace. “Does this hurt? Can you feel pain?” he asks, pressing harder once more before stopping.

“Y-yes. Sir. It hurts” you mutter, your lips tremble again. You feel like frozen. You are shaking, but you don’t want him to go away. In fact, you want more. Take that mask off. Take it off.

He is barely taller than you, but you still look up at his big onyx eyes. He is barely bigger than you, but you want his skinny frame to collide with yours.

As suddenly carves the tip of his index nail under your eyebags, dragging down, making a little cut. The few drops of blood run like a crimson tear down your cheek. But you don’t mind, you don’t care… perhaps it is your own Quincy ability; you are able to conceal the fear, you are able to transform it into pleasure…

Oh, what a perfect pair; total opposites that compliment each other. You, a revolution for the beliefs, for his grief. Him, a challenge.

Show Our Majesty, show him how deserving you are of his soul.

“Am I here to give our King Yhwach a new soul in which he would feed, Äs Nödt-sama?” you ask, now completely sure of what is about to happen.

He smiles again. His eyes turn little, his black irises now tint the whole socket in dark matter. He smirks so pleased; he lifts his arms just a little and his wrists look like dislocating to the outsides.

The Sternritter pushes you against a desk with a single Bible on top of it. Long arms that doesn’t seem strong, have enough strength to lift you up and sit you over the desk.

“Take off the mask” you plead, as he has already ripped your Soldat uniform.

His pupils dilate, or maybe that’s what you think his eyes do. In any case those become bigger. Is As scared of something, after all?

“It’s…” he takes time to answer, until his fingers pull the thick black fabric down. As looks to the side, he is for some seconds unable to look at you in the eyes. Everybody has at least a little bit of humanity left, still.

You take his hand, causing the soldier to freeze. How- why is a woman taking his hand with hers?

The sharpness of his nails, you take it directly to your lips. And you press down, carving yet another cut. It’s so easy to make them bleed, the red fluid drizzles your chin and down your neck. You don’t activate Blut Vene. You don’t want to.

“I can tear them even more” you smirk… after all you were out of your mind. You all were out of your minds.

“No need…” he whispers, licking your lips clean from the blood and lifting your legs so that your heels are also over the desk.

Spreading your legs more and more, you watch him unbutton the long coat that covers his skinny body. You anticipate to see his anatomy, you really wanna know how he looks.

You smirk at the very first sight. It’s not what you thought, it’s even better. Yes, he is skinny, sure. His ribs protrude just a bit, and his stomach completely plain has tight skin that looks delightful. Down, down you go, hipbones absolutely noticeable. They kinda hurt against your inner thighs, and even if he doesn’t seem to be the biggest man you ever seen… don’t judge a book by it’s cover… The way his erection gits against your panties is all you wanted to try, and even under his white trousers it perfectly shows.

“You seem to enjoy looking at me way more than I expected” he grunts, before wanting to bite your neck.

“Hng… yes…” you whine, as he finally nibbles on your skin and squeezes one of your breasts.

You smirk, not always beautiful is what people believe it is. With great expertise your hands unbutton his trousers, sliding down your hand, groping until his sex you gasp.

With your head thrown back as he is now sucking for dear life your nipples, you take his hardness in between your hands. Pleased, to find out is way bigger that you were really imagining, your walls already spasm… it’s gonna be hard fitting it inside.

The more you pump, the more he bites. You moan louder, he grunts harder. Harder, yes, faster. Your palm, the back of your hand gets covered in sprouting delight. And every time it oozes out, his bony anatomy shivers, spasms. The same trembling motions of his terrorized victims…

You pull him closer, near your entrance. Just do it, once and for all. Fuck me, scare me, stretch me, show me my worst fears and also, impregnate me while you do.

He doesn’t have, he doesn’t hold mercy for you. It goes hard, painfully delicious, sliding inside as you clench to him. You whine, moan, and scream louder until you get used to. Your nails carve onto his jutted shoulder blades.

He traps your shoulder with his teeth; it’s true, he can’t kiss you like butterflies on your skin… but he can drag you to the darkest, unexplored piece of your soul… there, where moral and prejudices don’t reach, there where there is no light, where you are in complete darkness, and in terror and pleasure you rejoice... because nothing can’t stop you, nothing can judge you, you, yourself can’t judge your actions.

It feels like breaking you in half. How comes he is so big? Was he that big before being a Sternritter? Who cares…

“Ngh… it- hu- it’s so good” you grunt, mixed sensations collide in one to create lust. You can see your belly bulging. You can see his black eyes disappear and turn white. They go totally blank, never has he ever felt, nor experience such rapture than right now.

“Thanks to Our King for the strength, I can’t lose it, I can’t lose it” he repeats, as he now goes faster and it’s easier to pound into you.

Your back finally hits the desk, you are laying there, he has crawl on top of you. His hair tickles your face, the muscles of his neck tensing, the ones on his lower belly too. Yours, following. You can feel the climax coming to you, his amazed expression hits you harder that it should…

He is, perhaps, for the first time, experiencing other’s reaction that’s not fear, that’s not terror towards and because of him… is this pleasure? Did I create this?

Yes, Äs… you are also able to do this. You see… there isn’t just one fear.

Your heels carve in the small of his back, trapping him in your orgasmic milking convulsions…

It is him, who is now frozen, who is now only driven by pure instinct. Welcome to your heaven, the Fear!

Give more eyes to the King, for him to see, the last nine days of this world

[finkinthisfrew]

Anything (Pt.8)

cw: sexual tension and horniness, erection, being naked together

Chapter 8 I shut the door to my apartment and leaned my back against it, my lips still tingling from the kiss we shared before Matty hopped into a cab to get to his meeting which he was now late for. He had changed back into his date clothes from the night before, leaving his hoodie and sweatpants behind.

We'd spent the rest of the morning in bed cuddling while chatting, laughing and eating cereal. Eventually, after much protesting from Matty, I convinced him not to cancel his day of meetings and interviews. He obliged only after I promised him I'd come over for dinner later that evening.

I walked back upstairs, still in a daze, and started making my bed. I had once again been lost in thought when I heard my phone buzz on my nightstand.

I'm not particularly enjoying being apart from you :(

My heart fluttered as I read his text and my phone buzzed again.

If you get out of the studio early, will you please come straight to mine?

I couldn't help but smile at his eagerness. It wasn't just that it was flattering, but something about his unabashed honesty was so comforting. He wasn't afraid of this, which helped me feel unafraid too. I sat down on the edge of my bed and began to type.

I'm also not enjoying being apart from you :( I want to come over straight after, I really do, but I need to go home to shower and change out of my studio clothes first. If I don't... well, if you saw me like that then let's just say you'd probably enjoy being apart more lol

It didn't take long for Matty to respond.

You could sprout a tail and 3 extra heads and I'd still be utterly obsessed with you. Come over straight after- you can wash up at mine. If it helps I promise I won't look at you when you first get here (that's a lie btw)

I rolled my eyes at his message and I couldn't help but giggle- he was so funny and clever. As I began to type a response, I got another text from him.

Not to pressure you. Sorry, I'm being very selfish here. I've just got a bit of a crush, that's all :)

I took a moment to think before I wrote my next couple messages.

Wellllllll, when you put it like that... as long as you don't mind me taking a quick shower at yours before we eat then sure, I'd love to :)

I can text you when I'm heading over. I'll probably be done by 5:30/6:00 pm- maybe even sooner. Should only take me 15 min to get to your place from the studio

I couldn't help but blush when I read his response.

Amazing. See you then <3 Text me whenever you miss me plz

The little heart emoji made me shimmy with giddiness. I was so excited to see him again- and we'd only been apart for... three minutes? Four? It felt insane, but the connection we had felt so deep so immediately. I hopped up from my bed, running to my wardrobe to get dressed as quickly as possible so I could get to the studio right away. The sooner I got my work done, the sooner I'd be able to see Matty again.

The next several hours I spent at the studio working on a new piece as well as finishing up some older ones. Somehow, by some miracle, the day had flown by and I'd finished just a few minutes after 5 pm.

We'd texted throughout the day, updating each other when we found time, but we could both tell we were missing each other desperately already.

As soon as I finished loading my last piece into the kiln, I sent Matty a text letting him know I was heading over and I all but ran out of the building and onto the tube.

I didn't even care that I was covered head to toe in dried clay and glaze with my hair in a dishevelled little bun on the top of my head. I looked my absolute worst, and somehow I felt my best the second I opened Matty's door, which he'd let me know was unlocked. Jogging up his steps, I called out his name. As soon as I reached the top of the steps I barely saw Matty appear before I was swept up in his arms, enveloped in a deep and longing kiss. I greedily kissed him back, which only made him kiss me harder. Our hands ran over each other urgently, taking in each other's presence in every possible way. We tried to break off the kiss after several minutes of making out, but failed every time, going back for more as if we'd been starved of each other.

The sound of a timer going off eventually convinced us to stop, earning a grunt of annoyance from Matty.

"One moment, stay right here," he said before disappearing down the hallway. "Stay perfectly where you are, darling," I heard him yell from the kitchen. Reappearing moments later with his arms already reaching out for me, we pulled towards each other like magnets, embracing once again. After a few more moments of passionate kissing, I pulled away.

"Before we continue," I said giggling as he wrapped his arms around me and kissed my face all over, "I really want to take a quick shower. Do you mind?"

He was just kissing my neck, sending tingles down my spine and making me shiver, when he retreated and said, "Actually, I hope you don't mind, but I had something else in mind for you... follow me."

We walked into his bedroom hand in hand. Then he pushed open his bathroom door, revealing a bathtub full of thick foamy bubbles and candles lit all over. A plush white bathrobe hung on the wall, and a bottle of wine with a large wine glass sat on the stool next to the tub.

I was speechless.

"Hopefully you have everything you need, but if not, just give us a shout and I'll grab you whatever you need. I'll be in the kitchen when you're done," he said giving my hand a squeeze. He leaned down and kissed the side of my nose, to which I turned to face him fully before taking his face in both my hands and kissing him on the lips.

"Thank you," I said softly.

He looked at me sweetly so happy with my reaction as he walked out the door, our fingers parting only when our arms could no longer reach. As he began to close the door, he paused saying, "It's such a comfort to have you here in my home, knowing you're just down the hall... It's really lovely to be home together."

I smiled back at him as he shut the door behind him.

I walked over to the sink and washed my face and cleaned my fingernails of the caked-on clay. I slowly peeled off my clothes, reflecting on what Matty said. I felt so at peace knowing he was here. This wasn't my home, but I felt at home here, because he was here.

I lowered myself into the tub, enveloping myself in the lavender-scented suds. The water was the perfect temperature, soothing my sore body which ached from hunching over the pottery wheel for so long. I poured myself a glass of the chilled wine and sunk deeper into the suds.

My mind drifted back to the last memory I had of Matty in this bathroom- soaked from spraying each other with the showerhead, his shirt clinging to his muscled and toned body, water dripping from his damp curls onto his parted lips. I remembered the tension I'd felt at that moment- the tension we felt. I remembered his face perfectly, the way he looked at my lips, then back into my eyes, panting slightly from our water fight. If I hadn't been so nervous... I wondered what would have happened.

I let myself steep in that memory, and after a while, I couldn't tell if I was getting hot from the bathtub water, or from the memory itself.

Without thinking, I called out Matty's name. He appeared at the door a few moments later, his head poking in. "Yes, darling?" he asked, averting his eyes for my own modesty.

"It's okay, you can look. I think you put enough bubbles in here for a months worth of baths," I said with a lighthearted laugh.

He allowed his eyes to slowly turn and look at me laying in the bath, bubbles covering everything below my collarbone.

"Fuck..." he said to himself quietly. "You are painfully gorgeous, Anna."

I blush at his candidness. "Thank you, Matty." I tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear before remembering why I called him in in the first place.

"Are you doing anything super involved in the kitchen right now, or would you possibly want to keep me some company?" I asked.

He all but skipped over to the stool next to the tub and sat down, leaning in to kiss me.

"Of course, darling. Anything for you." He said as he rolled up the sleeves of the flannel shirt he wore. I could see a spatter of red sauce from whatever he'd been cooking staining his shirt underneath.

He saw me notice his soiled shirt, face turning red as he said "Things got a bit more involved in the kitchen than I anticipated."

"Actually, I was wondering... if maybe you'd like to join me?" I asked, my boldness faltering only briefly from the sweetness of our kiss.

He blinked at me, processing what I'd just asked him.

"It seems like you could do with a soak too," I added tentatively, gesturing at his shirt, my voice a question mark.

"Are you sure?" He asked. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

I smiled at him. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't want it. I promise."

"Well as long as you're sure..." he pulled his flannel off as he stood up to undress.

I looked away as he pulled his stained t-shirt off, allowing him some privacy while undressing. I could feel his eyes on me, his movements measured from the corner of my eye, watching to make sure I was okay with every step he took.

He lowered himself slowly into the tub across from me. The tub was wide enough that we could both lay with our legs stretched out side by side. Matty gently lifted one of my legs to rest on his chest and began to rub my foot. My eyes practically rolled back into my head from bliss. I sighed audibly.

"Now there's a sound I could live for," he said with a smile.

I frowned from pleasure, my eyes closing.

"Are you sure you're not an angel, Matty? You treat me way too well- if you keep this up I don't know what I'll do without you once my placement ends."

Matty's hands paused for a moment. He fell silent, and I wondered if I'd said something wrong.

"I know it's quite irresponsible, but can we pretend that you aren't leaving in a few months? Just for tonight?"  He returned to rubbing my foot, looking me straight in the eyes. "I don't think I can think about that right now. Actually, I don't think I can think about it ever, but just for this one evening... I want to imagine this never has to end."

I couldn't tell if my heart had stopped, or was beating so fast that I could no longer feel it.

"Is that okay with you?" He asked, a look of innocence on his face.

"Of course," I said with sympathy, because I knew exactly what he meant, and I felt exactly the same way.

He kissed my big toe with a giant grin, making me laugh.

I sunk deeper into tub, relaxing, admiring the crinkles beside Matty's eyes as he smiled, taking extra time to memorize each one. I loved the way his eyes squinted when he smiled, the way he always spoke so earnestly with me. I loved that he always asked for consent. I loved how he would get carried away with his excitement, then always pedalled back to make sure I was in the same place as him. And I always was. I'd never fallen into step with someone like this before, every stride matching. I had never felt so safe with someone before. Or so turned on.

"Matty," I said, sitting upright, leaning towards him.

"Yes, dear?" He answered, eyebrows risen innocently.

"Kiss me. Please?"

"Anything for you." He said, rising from the tub, suds slowly dripping down his tattooed chest.

Our lips met, heat radiating from each other, dampness from the steam of the bath and our sweat intermingling. Our tongues met, dancing lightly with each other at first, then building intensity the longer we kissed.

I wrapped my arms around his naked torso, running my hands over his back, skin soft and slippery from the water. He gently placed one hand on the back of my neck, the other around my waist under water.

I couldn't get close enough to him, shifting myself onto my knees and straddling him, sitting down on his stomach as he reclined.

I was hungry for more. I kissed him deeper, and he pulled me in close against him in response, our bodies now touching everywhere.

"Is this okay?" He asked breathlessly, pulling away briefly to check in with me. I was so touched by his concern, which only made me want him more. I kissed his cheek, his jaw, then nibbled his ear. He moaned softly.

"Yes. Very, very okay." I said, my lips returning to his. We kissed even deeper, heat building.

He kissed me with even more intention now, his strong hands grasping at my hips. I ran my nails down his back, to which he responded "Fuck, Anna. I can't get enough of you."

I felt bold, so I pulled away, looked him dead in the eye and said, "So have me. Have all of me."

With that I shimmied further down his body, his erection now hard against my backside. I watched Matty's jaw drop as he processed what I'd just said and done. I maintained eye contact with him as I did it.

"... are you sure?" He asked slowly. "I don't want you to feel pressured to do anything just because I've got a bit excited."

I shook my head. "I mean it. I want you."

He shook his head in disbelief, eyes glazed with passion, "I need you." before he pulled me in with full force.