#i have no idea what possessed me into doing this

[ziggy-scardust]

I worked for Elon for two and a half years, some time ago now. He wasn’t part of the alt-right then. At least, he made generally positive statements in company emails about supporting LGBT+ employees and women in STEM. Maybe he changed his mind, or maybe he never believed those things and just said them when they were expected - I have no idea and frankly I don’t care.

In a lot of ways I’m proud of what I accomplished there. I did valuable work and got useful experience and made some good friends. But my good work helped reinforce a credibility he should not have for an expertise he does not possess. He wasn’t often onsite because he was already running 3, then 4, companies. When he was, it didn’t make anything better or faster and in fact was disruptive. When I started, I was told cheerfully that the board had removed his power to fire people on the spot. Some of his ideas were good! And some were terrible and he would insist on technical work that we knew wouldn’t work being done anyway. He was clearly on drugs for at least one company all-hands. He made a couple bad calls on some contracts when I was there, too.

And now it’s been a long time and it’s been at least five years since I first remember telling some relatives that they shouldn’t put him on a pedestal, that that wasn’t a reasonable thing to do for any human being, and that having some good ideas did not make him an oracle or a genius. Unsurprisingly, those relatives are now full-blown Trump cultists and Elon is very much a part of their hero-worship. It is weird and it is sad, because they trust their imaginary image of him more than they trust me.

I hang onto my stock mainly because it’s not publicly traded so the only way I can sell it is back to the company, which gives him more control. At least my family loves me and my engineering degrees are real. And it’s kinda nice to know I wasn’t crazy, so thank you, Philip Low.

[mminghaos]

Can i ask a jealous and possesive mingyu that doesn't like you hangout with his friends?? And he's pissed about you not giving him enough attention...

all yours , kim mingyu x f!reader

SYPNOSIS: mingyu doesnt like sharing, especially when it comes to you.

WARNINGS: smut, unprotected sex (dont do this !!), fingering, jealousy, possessiveness, rough sex,

requests open, do send some in !!

mingyu's eyes have been on you all night.

you feel them burning into you from across the room, lingering every time you laugh at something wonwoo says or nudge soonyoung playfully. his expression is unreadable, but you know him too well to be fooled — he's pissed.

he barely spoke on the way home. barely even looked at you, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. now, in the quiet of his apartment, the tension is suffocating.

you lean against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching him as he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it onto the sofa.

"okay, what's wrong?" you ask, breaking the silence

mingyu scoffs, shaking his head. "youre really gonna ask me that?"

you blink. "yes?"

he turns to face you fully, his jaw clenched tight. "you ignored me all night."

you roll your eyes. "i did not—”

"oh, really?" he steps closer, towering over you. "you barely looked at me. barely talked to me. but you had no problem giving all your attention to wonwoo and soonyoung huh?"

you sigh. "mingyu, we were just catching up. you know that."

he crowds you against the counter, his body flush against yours, trapping you between him and the cold marble. his hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your hips.

"doesn't matter," he mutters. "you're mine."

his voice is low, rough with frustration, but there's something else there too — something desperate.

"are you jealous?" you tease, tilting your chin up to meet his darkened gaze.

his lips curl into something that's not quite a smile. "jealous?" he repeats, his hands sliding down, gripping the back of your thighs as he effortlessly lifts you onto the counter. "no. just reminding you who you belong to."

his mouth crashes onto yours, hot and demanding. he kisses you like he's starving, like he's been waiting all night to get his hands on you. his fingers press into your skin, possessive, firm, pulling you closer like he can't stand the idea of even an inch between you.

you gasp against his lips, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, swallowing every little sound you make. he kisses you dizzy — so hard, so deep, you forget why you were even arguing in the first place.

"gyu—" you murmur against his lips, breathless.

"no," he growls, pulling back just enough to look at you. "you don't get to say my name like that after ignoring me all night."

his hands slip under your shirt, pushing it up, fingers trailing over your bare skin.

"you don't get to sit there, laughing with my friends, touching them, when i'm right fucking there."

you shiver under his touch, a soft whimper slipping past your lips. he smirks.

"oh, you like this?" he teases, voice dropping into something sinful. his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "you like when i get jealous?"

you swallow, heat pooling in your stomach. "mingyu-"

he doesn't let you finish.

his hands grip your thighs, pulling you forward until you're flush against him. you can feel just how worked up he is, the hard press of him against your core, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

"too bad," he murmurs against your throat, lips ghosting over your skin. "you don't get to play with my patience and get away with it."

his teeth sink into your neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp. his tongue follows, soothing the sting before he sucks, marking you.

"mine," he mutters against your skin. “yeah?”

all you can do is nod, but he doesn't give you a chance to argue anyways, doesn't give you a second to catch your breath before he's lifting you off the counter and carrying you to the bedroom.

"all fucking mine."

mingyu's grip is firm as he tosses you onto the bed. he towers over you, dark eyes drinking you in, chest heaving like he's barely holding himself together.

"take this off," he tugs at the bottom of your shirt, voice low.

you shiver at the authority in his tone but don't move fast enough for his liking. he clicks his tongue, stepping forward, gripping the hem of your shirt and yanking it over your head himself.

"too slow," he mutters, pushing you back against the pillows.

his hands are everywhere — tracing the curve of your waist, sliding down your thighs, spreading you open beneath him. his touch is possessive, claiming, as if he needs to erase the feeling of anyone else being near you tonight.

his mouth finds your neck again, kissing, sucking, nipping at the sensitive skin.

"you think i didn't notice the way wonwoo was looking at you?" he murmurs against your throat, his hands pushing your shorts down your legs. "you think i'm gonna let you act like that and not remind you who you fucking belong to?"

you barely have time to process before his fingers dip between your thighs, pressing against your core through your underwear.

"fuck," he groans, feeling the damp fabric. "you like this, don't you? like making me jealous."

you shake your head, breathless. "i wasn't—"

he presses harder, cutting you off with a sharp gasp. "don't lie to me."

his fingers push your underwear aside, sliding through your slick folds, teasing.

"mingyu, please—" your hand goes down to grab his wrist, to get him to hurry the fuck up, but he just moves it away, pinning it down next to your waist.

he smirks. "please what?"

you glare at him, but the way your hips buck into his touch betrays you. he chuckles, slipping one finger inside you, slow and deliberate.

"you always act so innocent," he murmurs, adding another finger, stretchiing you open. "but look at you. already soaking for me."

his fingers curl, hitting the perfect spot inside you, making you whimper. he loves it — loves the way you melt under his touch, the way you fall apart so easily for him.

"you ignored me all night," he reminds you, his thumb circling your clit. "so why should i be nice to you now?"

you don't answer, too lost in the pleasure, too caught up in the way his fingers move inside you with such precision.

he pulls his hand away suddenly, making you whine at the loss.

"turn around," he orders.

you hesitate for only a second before obeying, flipping onto your stomach. he grips your hips, pulling you onto your knees, your back arched, your body completely at his mercy.

"good girl," he praises, dragging his fingers down your spine before you hear the rustle of fabric as he undoes his belt, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat through you

"you want me to fuck you?" he asks, voice rough with restraint.

you nod frantically. "yes, gyu— please—"

his hand comes down on your ass, a sharp smack that makes you jolt.

"say it properly."

you tremble, knowing better than to test his patience any further.

"please fuck me, mingyu," you whimper.

that's all he needs.

he thrusts into you in one smooth motion, filling you to the hilt, knocking the breath from your lungs.

"fuck," he groans, head dropping forward. "so tight — so fucking perfect for me."

he doesn't give you time to adjust, doesn't hold back. his hands grip your hips as he fucks into you, deep and rough, his frustration from earlier spilling into every movement.

the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingled with your gasps and his gritted curses.

"this is what you wanted, isn't it?" he pants, his grip tightening. "wanted me to lose my fucking mind over you?"

you can't answer — not when he's fucking you so good, so deep, your mind goes blank.

but he doesn't need a response. he can feel it. can feel the way you clench around him, the way your body trembles under his touch.

"never gonna do that again, hmm?" he mutters, leaning over you, pressing his chest to your back, his breath hot against your ear. "you belong to me."

his hand snakes around your front, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles as he fucks you harder.

"shit— gyu!" you gasp, your body tensing as you teeter on the edge.

"you’re gonna cum for me baby, yeah?" he growls. "now." the command sends you spiralling, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you fall apart beneath him.

mingyu isn't far behind — your orgasm pushes him over the edge, his grip turning bruising as he buries himself deep inside you, groaning your name.

for a moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing, the warmth of his body pressing against yours as he stays inside you, unwilling to let go just yet.

finally, he pulls out, rolling you onto your back, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your swollen lips.

"mine," he murmurs again, softer this time.

you smile, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. "yours."

and that's all he needed to hear.

[eclipixels]

Casual

Characters: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Rin Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Reo Mikage

Content: "Casual relationship with the boys but it’s just you getting ahead of yourself and planning to talk to them about getting serious until you saw a headline about 'your' man going official with another lady." - @captainshindo

Isagi

      You weren’t the jealous type. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

      Isagi Yoichi was never officially yours, not in the way that mattered. Sure, he kissed you like you were the only person in the world, pulled you into his arms like he had no intention of letting go, and whispered things at night that made your stomach flip. But there had never been a label.

      It was fine. You were fine. Until you saw the headline.

      "Blue Lock’s Rising Star Isagi Yoichi Goes Official With Mystery Beauty!"

      Your stomach dropped. The article featured blurry paparazzi shots of him with some woman—her face obscured, but her hand was clearly clutching his wrist. You read every line, dissecting every word like it held the key to your survival of your heart. The journalist speculated, fans freaked out, and suddenly, it felt like the whole world was deciding where Isagi’s heart belonged.

      Except, no one had asked you.

      You slammed your phone down, anger bubbling up, not just at him but at yourself. You had been ready, so ready, to have the talk, to define what this thing between you really was. But now? What was the point?

      When Isagi came home later, he immediately noticed something was off.

      "You’re mad at me."

      "Really?” You scoffed.

      "Yeah, you are." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Is this about the article? I have no idea who that woman even was, I’m pretty sure it was a fan."

      Your eyes snapped to him. He looked guilty. Good.

      "Why would I care?" you asked, voice tight. "We’re not dating, right? I mean, not really. So why should I care?"

      His heart cracked when you said that. Did this mean nothing to you? Truth be told, he was planning to talk to you soon about your relationship. He wanted to be yours officially, now he feels dumb for not doing it sooner. Because now, his baby’s heart was broken and he didn’t know how to fix it.

      "Come on, you know that’s not—"

      "Not what? Not true?"

      And it wasn’t like he could just announce to the world that he was taken. Right? But still, he could’ve done something. At least that's what you told yourself.

      Isagi sat in bed that night, phone in hand, searching for ways to subtly (or not-so-subtly) let people know he was taken.

      What he found was… questionable.

      “Give her your hoodie, post her on your story, make it obvious.”

      Okay. Normal enough. What else, though? He wanted to do something more than that.

      “Hickeys are the ultimate mark of possession.”

      His face burned. He thought about it for half a second, then realized they were temporary. That wasn’t enough.

      And then he saw it.

      A tattoo. Permanent. Undeniable. Forever.

      It was impulsive, but so was he.

      Isagi came home, a slight wince on his face as he rolled his shoulder as he began experiencing the weak symptoms of a tattoo flu.

      "Hey."

      You barely looked up from your phone.

      He hovered for a second, then sighed dramatically. "You’re still mad."

      Silence.

      "Okay, well, can you at least look at me?"

      With an exaggerated eye-roll, you glanced up and immediately did a double take.

      "What the hell is that?" you asked, pointing at the fresh ink on the side of his neck.

      Bold, black letters. Your name. Right there for the world to see.

      "A tattoo," he said casually, like he hadn’t just done the most insane thing in history.

    �� Your mouth opened. Then closed. "No, yeah, I can see that. Why?"

      Isagi scratched the back of his head, suddenly sheepish. "Well, I wanted people to know I’m taken."

      "That’s the way you went about it?"

      "Yeah, but this way, they can’t argue about it." He grinned, a little too pleased with himself.

      “Check my socials” He said with a smug expression. You gave him a puzzled but cautious look as you slowly opened your social media.

      He posted you. Not just that, he put your name in his bio with a heart emoji.

      You blinked. Slowly.

      "You’re insane."

      "Maybe." He stepped closer, tilting his head with a smirk. "But now you can’t say I’m not serious."

      “That is a good picture of us,” You hummed, squealing on the inside at the gesture. He really did that.

      “Match bios with me before it looks like I’m embarrassing myself.” He said sternly and you laughed, your eyes falling past from his lips to the fresh tattoo on his neck.

      “That’s permanent”

      “So is this,” He smiled slyly, pulling you in for a kiss.

      Damn him. Damn him and his stupid, reckless, insanely hot commitment.

      You exhaled, shaking your head. "You’re lucky I love you, Isagi Yoichi."

      That was the first time you said those words to him. I love you.

      "I know. I love you too.” He grinned. Yeah, and so does the whole world know now too.

Bachira

      You weren’t the type to rush into things.

      Or at least, that’s what you told yourself when you first started seeing Bachira Meguru. It had been casual, fun, and effortless. The kind of relationship where dates blurred into late-night calls, where teasing turned into lingering touches, and where stolen kisses didn’t come with strings attached. You liked him. A lot. Maybe too much.

      That was the problem.

      You told yourself it was just fun. That the way he’d tug you close after a match, sweat still dripping from his bangs, meant nothing. The way he sent you voice notes about the most random things, like how the vending machine near his training center always stole his coins. It wasn’t anything special.

      But you wanted more. And after weeks of convincing yourself it wasn’t just one-sided, you’d decided it was time to have the conversation. The ‘what are we?’ talk. The ‘I think I want to be with you officially’ talk.

      You had it all planned out. You’d meet him after practice, maybe go for a walk, maybe grab something to eat. You’d be subtle about it, ease into it the way you always did with him. No pressure. No big declarations.

      Then, fate decided to punch you in the gut.

      Your phone screen lit up with a notification, the kind you usually ignored. But the name caught your eye. Bachira Meguru.

      It wasn’t a text. It wasn’t even a message from him. It was a headline. A big, bold, soul-crushing headline plastered across a sports gossip site.

      “Blue Lock Star Bachira Meguru Goes Official with Rising Model Hana Yoshida!”

      The article was filled with pictures, ones you’d never seen before. Bachira with his arm draped over her shoulders, grinning like he had no worries in the world. Her hand playfully on his chest. Them standing too close, their body language screaming intimacy.

      You stared at your phone, the weight of your own naivety sinking in.

      Had he ever mentioned her? No.

      Had he ever given you any reason to believe it was just you? Also no.

      You had assumed. And that was your mistake.

      The realization was sobering. The night before, he had sent you a voice note about his latest match, his usual excited rambling filling your ears. It felt normal. Easy. Safe. But now, the words rang hollow in your memory, like they belonged to a different story altogether.

      You inhaled sharply and forced a laugh, the sound bitter in your own ears.

      Wasn’t this a blessing in disguise? If you had spoken to him any sooner, you would’ve made a fool of yourself.

      Dodged a bullet. Saved yourself from embarrassment.

      You locked your phone and tossed it onto the couch, letting out a long breath. Maybe it was time to let go of the idea of ‘what could’ve been’ and accept what was staring you in the face.

      Bachira Meguru was never yours to begin with.

      You had ignored his calls. His texts. His voice notes. Bachira was starting to panic. Had he done something wrong? Had he messed up what you two had, without even realizing it?

      The overwhelming feelings he had for you were impossible to express, no matter how hard he tried. He never quite knew the right words, but he knew this. He couldn’t lose you. After years of isolation, of feeling like no one truly understood him, you had come into his life. You got him. And now, the thought of that slipping away, of you slipping away, was unbearable.

      So, in the dead of night, with anxiety clawing at his chest, Bachira showed up at your door. A bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand, a bag of your favorite snacks in the other, and an apology for whatever the hell it was he had done to make you pull away. He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for, but he knew he couldn’t stand this silence between you two any longer.

      When he stood there, nervously shifting from foot to foot, the words he blurted out took you by surprise, and all the anger you had been holding onto melted away in an instant.

      “Are you breaking up with me or something? What did I do?”

      You blinked, taken aback. “Meguru, you really don’t know? You didn’t see the articles and— wait, you thought we’re together?”

      “Well, yeah," he said, frowning, his eyes wide with confusion. "I’m your boyfriend, right? Or did… Oh no, did I assume wrong?” He looked at you in a mix of worry and uncertainty, and something in your chest tightened. He looked so lost, so vulnerable, and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy.

      “No, no, it’s not that,” you said quickly, trying to explain. “I just saw you with that model, and I thought—”

      “It was for a commercial for Chris Prince’s brand,” he interrupted, his expression softening slightly. “Wait… people are thinking it’s more than that?”

      “The article says it’s official,” you said, biting your lip, unsure how to explain the confusion that had swept over you.

      He froze, processing what you said, then his face shifted to a mix of disbelief and determination. “The hell? No, no way. I’m fixing that. But first,” he said, his gaze locking onto yours, “I need to fix this.” The cool night air swirled around him, his features glowing in the soft light, giving him an almost ethereal quality.

      You blinked, momentarily speechless.

      He stepped closer, leaning in as he looked into your eyes with such intensity that you couldn’t look away. “We are together. Yes?”

      You felt your heart race. “Okay,” you answered, the tension in your body easing with the words.

      Without another word, Bachira leaned in and kissed you. Soft, sweet, but with a warmth that melted away any remaining uncertainty. When he pulled back, he glanced up at you with a shy grin.

      “Good. Can I, uh, come in?”

      You blinked again stunned from the kiss before quickly stepping aside. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, come in!”

Chigiri

      Chigiri was great—amazing, even. Every moment spent with him was effortless. The two of you didn’t define things; it was simple. Casual. Late night skin care dates, movies, shopping, boba. No pressure, no expectations. Or so you thought. But somewhere between laughing over late-night games and the quiet mornings at his apartment, you’d started to wish for more. You didn’t just want him in your life—you wanted him. And not just as a casual companion, but as someone who would be there in the long run. So, you had decided to talk to him about taking things a step further.

      You reread your draft one more time.

      “Hey, Hyoma. I know we’ve been having a lot of fun, but... I’ve been thinking a lot about us. I think I’m ready for something more serious. What do you think?”

      You bit your lip, ready to send it, but then the familiar buzz of a notification caught your attention. A headline. Your eyes widened in disbelief.

      “Hyoma Chigiri Goes Official with Miku Takeda”

      Your breath caught. The picture accompanying the article was of Chigiri, smiling brightly beside a woman with shoulder-length brown hair and a radiant expression. She looked happy. And he was happy, too. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the wave of disappointment, but it was too much. The words blurred before your eyes as a dull ache settled deep in your chest.

      You blinked rapidly, trying to piece everything together. You two hadn’t exactly made anything official, sure, but... hadn’t the connection felt special? You had been special, hadn’t you? There had been nights spent tangled in each other’s arms, mornings where you stayed in bed a little too long, stealing kisses between sleepy grins.

      A dark thought crept in, taunting you, Was he even serious about me?

      Without thinking, you grabbed your things, leaving the coffee shop in a daze. The cold wind bit at your skin, but you barely noticed. You didn’t know what you were feeling anymore. You had imagined a future with him, and now it was slipping through your fingers like sand.

      The next day, the confusion still gnawed at you. It was hard to focus on anything other than the image of Chigiri standing next to someone else. The woman was probably sweet, charming, someone who could give him everything you could never offer. Was that why he hadn’t wanted to make things official? You were a fool to have expected more.

      You were lost in your thoughts when your phone buzzed again. A text from him.

      “Hey, can I see you later?”

      Your heart skipped a beat. You stared at the message, reading it over and over. He wanted to see you? What could he possibly want to talk about?

      It wasn’t long before you heard a knock on your apartment door. You hesitated for a moment before opening it, only to find Chigiri standing there, his usual calm expression now tinged with uncertainty. His eyes softened when he saw you.

      “Can we talk?” he asked, his voice gentle.

      “I can't,” you replied, trying to sound neutral, but your voice wavered.

      “Why?”

      “I have to um, walk my pet fish.” You gave a poor excuse.

      “Princess, you don’t have a fish.” He bluntly said, giving you a pointed look. Your heart fluttered at the nickname. Why was he here? Why was he calling you that? Why was he playing with you like this? You defeatedly let him in, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on you. There was an awkward silence between you two. He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly unsure of where to start.

      “You saw the article, didn’t you” he said finally, his tone a little more serious.

      You nodded, avoiding his gaze. “I did. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone seriously.”

      “I am,” He said defensively and you gave him a confused look. Was he here to break your heart all over again?

      “If that's all you came here to say then—”

      “You.” He interrupted you. “It’s you. I’m serious about you.”

      “What?”

      “It’s not what you think,” he replied quickly, his voice tense. “That woman in the photo, she was just a fan who asked to take a picture. Nothing more. I don’t know how that rumor even got started.”

      You bit your lip, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood through you. Of course, you hadn’t asked him about her. You’d just jumped to conclusions, letting insecurity take hold of you.

      “Oh.” you murmured, guilt creeping into your voice.

      Chigiri ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated with himself. “No, this is my fault. I should’ve made it clear our relationship so you’d never have to feel this way.” His eyes softened as he stepped closer to you. “But what I’m saying is, I’ve only been focused on you.”

      Your heart skipped in your chest, and you met his gaze at last. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his eyes.

      “Yeah, um, me too.” You awkwardly answered, suddenly feeling small under his gaze.

      “Can I be your boyfriend? Officially?”

      “Yes.”

Rin

      You had always known that Rin Itoshi wasn’t the type for deep emotions. His cool demeanor, sharp gaze, and the way he carried himself on and off the field. it all screamed that he was in control, always. And when you found yourself in a casual relationship with him, it was easy to slip into that mindset.

      For weeks, it had been nothing more than stolen moments. Quiet, private conversations after practice, a few casual dinners here and there, and the occasional late-night texts. You were often there for him during his more emotional problems. You knew Rin wasn’t big on showing affection, and in return, you respected his boundaries. But in the back of your mind, you started to wonder if there was something more. Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself, but you couldn’t help it. Every time he looked at you, there was a flicker of something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to share.

      You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. You were enjoying the moments you shared with him, and that was enough, right? But as the days went by, something inside you told you that you wanted more. You had no idea how he would respond, but the thought of asking had you nervous.

      You planned it all out. You’d wait for the perfect moment, maybe after one of his matches when his energy was high, and then you’d talk. Just the two of you, no distractions. You’d explain how you felt.You hoped he wouldn’t brush you off, maybe, just maybe, he’d feel the same way.

      But of course, life had a funny way of throwing curveballs when you least expected them.

      It all started on a random afternoon when you were scrolling through your phone. You were at home, taking a much-needed break from work and from your thoughts of Rin. The screen flickered to a news headline that made your stomach drop.

      "Rin Itoshi Goes Public with New Girlfriend—Is the Blue Lock Star Finally Settling Down?"

      Your eyes went wide, and your heart skipped a beat. There, on your screen, was a picture of Rin and a woman, someone you had never seen before.

      It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. Your mind raced as you scrolled through the article, each sentence tightening the knot in your stomach.

      Was this it? Had you been just a casual fling for him all along? Was this the end of whatever bond you thought you had? The thought of Rin moving on with someone else. Someone so glamorous and perfect for him, of course. It lleft you feeling small and foolish. You had been planning to have that conversation, and now, it felt like everything was too late.

      With trembling fingers, you dropped your phone on the couch and buried your face in your hands. It was the ultimate slap to your pride, the crushing reality that your feelings were never going to be returned the way you had hoped.

      What had you been thinking? You had let yourself get carried away, fantasizing about something more than what was real. You had never asked him where you stood, and now it was too late to fix it. You laughed bitterly at yourself, feeling the sting of embarrassment.

      The next day, you avoided Rin. You weren’t ready to confront him, not yet—not with the painful sting of the news still so fresh in your mind. It hurt more than you expected, this grief, and you needed space to think. You decided to take a walk, but somehow, your feet led you to the one place you always went when you were hurt—a quiet pond tucked away near the park.

      You hadn’t expected to find him there.

      As soon as you spotted him, your breath caught in your throat. You froze, a sharp pang of discomfort settling in your chest. You considered turning and walking away before he noticed you, but it was too late. He saw you.

      "Y/n..." Rin's voice broke through the silence, and there was something in his tone that made you pause. Relief. You didn’t know how to explain it, but it was unmistakable.

      You took a step back, instinctively wanting to retreat, but he caught it. Panic flashed in his eyes, and the urgency in his voice grew. “Don’t go.”

      You stood still, unsure of what to say or do, as he closed the distance between you. The cool air felt heavier with the weight of the moment. Rin’s usual composure was gone. He looked almost vulnerable as he started to speak again.

      “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, his voice softer than you had ever heard it before. “The woman in that article... I’ve known her for a while, but we’re not dating. It was just a misunderstanding.”

      You blinked, your mind racing to process his words. "Oh... okay."

      You didn’t know how to respond. The silence stretched between you, thick with all the things unsaid. Now didn’t feel like the right time to voice your feelings, not with everything still so raw.

      Rin seemed to sense your hesitation, though. He took a deep breath, his gaze steady but intense. "I think... we should be together."

      Your heart skipped, confused by the sudden shift. "What?"

      “I don’t like the thought of us not being together,” he continued, his voice firm yet vulnerable. He was a mess. His emotions were all over the place. He was so scared of messing this up with you. “So, will you...?”

      You blinked again, unsure if you heard him correctly. “You’re asking me to be your girlfriend?”

      His expression softened, the edges of his usual coldness melting away. “I am.”

      You hesitated, the doubts swirling in your mind. "I don’t want to get hurt."

      Rin stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity that took you by surprise. “I promise, I won’t do that to you.”

      You took a shaky breath, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "Okay."

      As soon as you responded, he shocked you with a chaste kiss, his face heating up immedietly afterwards.

Nagi

      It had been an unusually calm week for you and Seishiro Nagi. Despite the usual chaos that surrounded him, whether it was from Blue Lock’s relentless competition or his fanbase constantly buzzing about his status, you and Nagi had settled into a nice routine. There was no commitment, no promises. Just the two of you enjoying each other’s company in a casual, laid-back way. He’d show up at yours some nights, you'd binge-watch youtube or play video games, and the occasional kiss was exchanged, but it was never anything too serious.

      It was comfortable. Simple. And deep down, you felt like it was enough for you.

      But lately? Lately, something has shifted. Maybe it was the way his hands lingered just a bit longer when they brushed yours, or the way his smile made your heart beat faster than it ever had before. He didn’t say it, but you could feel something brewing underneath the surface. You wondered if maybe, just maybe, it was time to talk to him about what this was, what you two were.

      You stood in front of your mirror one morning, nervously adjusting your hair. The moment had to be right. You’d already rehearsed what you were going to say. “Seishiro, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we could try something more serious?” The words sounded perfect in your mind, a perfect reflection of your growing feelings. No turning back now.

      However, fate had other plans.

      While scrolling through your phone that afternoon, you stumbled upon an article. The headline hit you like a ton of bricks:

      "Seishiro Nagi Officially Goes Public with New Girlfriend!"

      Your heart stopped. You felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. Your hands trembled as you read the article further. There was Nagi, smiling in a photo with some unknown woman. The words “new girlfriend” loomed over the image like a cruel reminder that whatever you and Nagi had shared, whatever you had hoped for, wasn’t real.

      You had been overthinking things. This was just a casual thing to him, wasn’t it? You’d misread everything.

      Suddenly, the message you had planned to send him felt ridiculous. Why bother talking about getting serious when clearly, he was already with someone else?

      At that moment, the emotional whiplash was too much. You needed space. You couldn’t face him. You locked your phone screen and pushed all thoughts of the conversation aside.

      For the rest of the day, you tried to distract yourself. You threw yourself into your work, watched mindless videos, but it was all in vain. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw that headline. Your Nagi, someone you had been secretly falling for, was with someone else.

      Meanwhile, Nagi had no clue that his whole world had just fallen apart.

      He was sleeping soundly, sprawled out in his bed, his phone discarded on the nightstand.

      The evening sunset pierced through his window as he blinked his eyes open, groggy but still content. He missed you, he wonderd if you were busy. A small smile tugged at his lips as he sent you a message. You always knew how to cheer him up after a long day.

      But there was no reply.

      Weird.

      Nagi tilted his head, frowning as he locked his phone and stretched his arms above his head. He figured you were just busy or had fallen asleep early. Still, he felt a little disappointed. You two hadn’t played together in a while.

      He got out of bed, grabbing a quick snack before going back to his room to play a few rounds of valorant on his pc. Yet, something gnawed at him, something felt off. He decided to call you.

      But you didn’t pick up.

      Weird.

      He tried again. Still, no response.

      Now, Nagi was starting to get that feeling in his gut. It wasn’t like you to ignore him like this. His thoughts were interrupted when his phone buzzed again.

      This time, it was an article. The same one from earlier, only now it was everywhere. Nagi’s eyes widened as he saw the headline about him and the new “girlfriend.” He froze.

      What the hell was going on?

      His first instinct was to brush it off as some stupid gossip, but his feelings quickly turned into panic as he realized you must’ve seen the article.

      You were sitting on your couch, trying to make sense of everything, when you heard a knock at your door.

      Your heart skipped a beat. Part of you wanted to believe it was him, but the other half knew that was unrealistic. Even if he was here, you didn’t want to face him. Not like this. You didn’t want to explain the mess in your mind, the whirlwind of emotions, and the jealousy that had sprung up when you saw that article.

      You opened the door and there he was. Nagi.

      And before you could say anything, he kissed you—firmly, his lips pressing against yours in a way that made your mind go blank. His hand cupped your cheek, and when he pulled away, his eyes bore into yours, a mix of determination and something else you couldn’t quite place. He hoped you could feel all of his love for you through it.

      “You’re mine. Not anyone else,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “That news article? Fake. All of it.”

      You blinked, completely shocked. “What… what do you mean?”

      Nagi sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what was going on until just now. I didn’t even realize you saw it. But I wasn’t with her. I was never with her. It’s all some stupid misunderstanding.”

      You could hardly process his words. Your heart pounded in your chest, and suddenly the flood of emotions that had built up came rushing in. But before you could speak, Nagi kissed you again before pouting.

      “Now that we’ve cleared that, can we play Overwatch?”

      It was absurd. You were still trying to digest the fact that he’d kissed you that passionately and now he was asking to game? Your face was still red from the gesture.

      “...Okay,” you finally muttered, still a little dazed.

      “Good, I’ve missed playing with my girlfriend.” He smiled, ruffling your hair as he walked past you to get to your room. You almost choked. You’ve been his girlfriend? Since when?

Reo

      You had always known your relationship with Reo Mikage wasn’t exactly typical, but that never stopped you from dreaming. Reo had a way of making everything feel effortless. He was charming, with an enigmatic allure that seemed to make everyone gravitate toward him. And yet, he always found a way to make you feel special. Whether it was through a text, spoiling you with gifts, late night walks, a shared glance during class, or a quiet dinner date at one of the many upscale restaurants his family frequented, Reo knew how to make you feel like you were the only one in his world.

      You weren't from the same social circle as Reo, and that difference stung every time you allowed yourself to think about it. Reo was the heir to a vast fortune, a golden boy in the world of soccer, destined for greatness. His family’s wealth and influence were legendary. Meanwhile, you were just another girl trying to make it through school, scraping together money for lunch while juggling part-time jobs. You didn’t feel like you belonged in his world, even if Reo never seemed to care about that. He had a way of looking past the things that defined people’s worth in the eyes of the world. But the reality of your difference in status was something you couldn’t fully ignore.

      It wasn’t as if Reo was outwardly dismissive about your life or background. No, Reo was sweet, considerate, and—frustratingly—always seemed like he genuinely enjoyed your company. But lately, you were starting to wonder if you had been kidding yourself. Maybe you were just another fleeting thing in his life, a distraction before he inevitably moved on to someone more suited for him. Someone from a wealthier, more established family. Someone who could fit seamlessly into his world.

      That was why, after months of casually seeing each other, you found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed one evening, staring at your phone screen and rehearsing what you were going to say to him. You’d been thinking about it for weeks now. Maybe it was time to have the conversation, to ask him where you stood and if there could be something more between you. You had convinced yourself that it was the right time. Reo was always warm toward you, his touches tender and his words soft. Maybe he was waiting for you to make the first move.

      But then, as you scrolled through your social media feed while absently flipping through notes for your upcoming exam, you saw it.

      The headline nearly knocked the breath out of you: "Reo Mikage Goes Official with Korean Chaebol Heiress, Seung Hae."

      Your heart dropped into your stomach as your finger hovered over the screen. Was this some kind of joke? You blinked twice, then read the article again. It showed pictures of Reo with a beautiful, tall woman at a high-profile event. Her arms draped around his, smiles exchanged, the kind of chemistry you never seemed to get from him.

      The worst part? The woman was breathtaking, with long black hair, flawless skin, and a designer outfit that screamed money. Her family was a significant part of the Chaebol world in Korea, and she fit perfectly into the realm of Reo’s lifestyle. Someone his family would approve of.

      A strange mix of anger, sadness, and embarrassment bubbled up inside you. You could feel your face flush with humiliation. It wasn’t the first time you had thought about the possibility of Reo seeing someone else, but this felt different. It felt real.

      Reo had been so kind to you, so sweet, that you thought maybe you were building something together. But now it all felt like a lie. You had been foolish to think he could ever be serious about someone like you. Maybe this was his way of showing you that your relationship could never be more than a fleeting thing.

      I guess I was just a phase, you thought bitterly.

      The next day, you avoided Reo. It wasn’t easy, especially since he always found ways to pick you up after school or find a day to hang out but you kept your distance. Whenever he texted you, asking if you could meet, you came up with a vague excuse about needing to study or work. Every time your phone buzzed with his name, you winced.

      But despite all your avoidance, Reo never seemed to give up. His persistence only fueled the fire of your insecurities. What could he possibly want from you now?

      Then came the day he appeared at your school’s courtyard, standing by a bench, watching you from afar. His expression wasn’t one of frustration or confusion; it was one of pure determination. It was oddly nostalgic back from when he used to go to school here.

      “Y/n, we need to talk,” he called out.

      You froze, clutching your bag tighter as you forced a tight smile. “There’s nothing to talk about, Reo.”

      “Don’t give me that,” he said, closing the distance between you. “You’re avoiding me, and it’s clear something’s wrong.”

      Your breath hitched. You could feel the tears starting to prickle at your eyes as the weight of it all hit you.

      “I saw the article,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I saw the pictures of you and her.”

      Reo’s face paled for a second before his usual calm demeanor returned. He raised a hand, gently cupping your face. “Love,” he began, his voice steady. “She’s just a family friend.”

      Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked up at him, uncertain. “Then why was she wrapped around you like that? You and her, together like that... it didn’t look like business.”

      “She was posed up like that with several other sons of prestigious families there. I promise you, you’re my only one.”

      You swallowed, the tightness in your throat easing slightly. “But I’m not... I’m not like you. You have your world, Reo, and I’m just... me. It’s not the same.”

      Reo stepped even closer, his eyes soft and focused on you. “You are my world, and that is more than enough for me. Don’t ever think it isn’t.”

      The sincerity in his voice hit you like a wave, and suddenly the weight you had carried for so long felt like it was lifting.

      “I’m sorry I didn’t explain it sooner,” Reo said, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “I should’ve told you about the event but I didn’t know the press would spin a story like this.”

      “Oh”

      Reo chuckled softly, his hands still gently holding your face. “I hope you know that you’re it for me, Y/n.”

      Your heart fluttered in your chest. This was real. In that moment, all your insecurities seemed to vanish. Maybe you didn’t come from the same world as Reo, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t share a future with him.

      “Does that mean we’re together?” You asked.

      “My heart was yours since the day we met.” He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

[woozinhos]

Hello (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) Can you please do a Yunho fic where the reader is his best friend for a long time then one day the sexual tension between the two finally snapped. Please include size kink, hand kink, and breeding kink. And I need Yunho to be rough 😶‍🌫 Thank you 😍

Notes: god I’m so weak for Yunho

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

You had been friends with Yunho for years, the two of you practically inseparable. He was tall and muscular, his large hands always seeming to dwarf yours whenever you held them. He was kind and funny, always knowing how to make you laugh and smile. As time went on, though, something shifted between the two of you. The friendly touches and banter had become laced with an undercurrent of tension, and you found yourself feeling things for him that you never had before.

One night, the two of you were hanging out at his place, watching a movie. You were sitting on the couch next to him, his arm casually draped over your shoulders. But his touch felt different tonight, more deliberate and intentional.

You could feel the heat radiating off of his body, and every time he shifted or moved, his arm would brush against your chest, making you shiver. As he strokes your shoulder, his fingers seem to linger on your skin for a moment longer than usual. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his gaze intense and focused. You can sense a hint of nervousness in his demeanor, which is unlike him.

Yunho shifts on the couch, moving closer to you so that your bodies are now touching. He lets out a shaky breath, his hand moving from your shoulder to your thigh, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your skin. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and you pull it out to check the message.

It's from San, one of your other friends, and it reads: "Hey, you guys having fun tonight? I'm so bored over here." As you type out a reply to San, Yunho glances over at your phone and sees you smiling. He frowns, a hint of jealousy flashing in his eyes. He doesn't say anything, but his hand on your thigh tightens possessively. You finish your message to San and set your phone aside, noticing the look on Yunho's face.

"What's wrong?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I can't take it anymore," Yunho growls, his voice low and rough. He grabs your waist and pulls you onto his lap, positioning you so that you're straddling him. You let out a small gasp as he moves you, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, and his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place.

"I've been holding back for so long," he says, his voice hoarse with emotion. "But I can't deny it anymore. I love you."

"I've been in love with you for years," he admits, his hands moving up and down your sides. "But I was too scared to tell you, afraid of ruining our friendship."

"But now, seeing you talking to San like that... I couldn't stand it. I need you to know how I feel. You're mine, and I don't want anyone else to have you."

"I... I had no idea," you say, your heart racing as you look down at him. "I had no idea you felt that way about me." Yunho looks up at you, his expression softening as he sees the surprise in your eyes.

"How could you not know?" he asks, his hands moving to cup your face. "I've been so obvious about it."

"I've been flirting with you for years, touching you more than I should, trying to make you notice me," he says, his thumbs tracing your jawline. He gets frustrated with your lack of response, his grip on your face tightening slightly.

"Dammit, say something," he growls, his eyes burning with intensity.

“Kiss me,”You say with no thought behind it. He doesn't hesitate for a second, his lips crashing down on yours in a hungry, possessive kiss. His hands move from your face to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he pulls you closer, his tongue demanding entrance into your mouth. You let out a small moan as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with an insistent, dominant rhythm.

He pulls you even closer, your bodies pressed tightly together as he devours you. Yunho's hands are rough as he touches you, his movements precise and deliberate. He bites your lower lip, tugging on it lightly before his lips move to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin there. You gasp as he leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses down your neck, his hands roaming over your body.

He nips at your earlobe before whispering, "I've been dreaming about this for so long." He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with lust as he looks up at you.

"Let me show you how badly I've needed you," he repeats, his voice low and gravelly. "I want to make you mine in every way possible."

"Show me," you breathe, your body trembling with anticipation. He pulls you even closer, his lips finding your throat and kissing a trail along your skin. He sucks and nips at your pulse point, his tongue laving over the sensitive skin there as his hands grip your hips firmly.

"Get on your knees," he growls, his voice commanding and authoritative. You shiver at the sound of his voice, and without hesitation, you slide off his lap and onto your knees in front of him. Yunho looks down at you, a satisfied smirk on his face as he sees you kneeling before him.

"Good girl," he purrs, his fingers running through your hair possessively. He continues to stroke your hair, his gaze intense as he looks down at you.

"You look so beautiful like this," he says, his voice low and rough. "On your knees, waiting for me to give you what you need." He slowly unzips his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. He lets out a soft groan as he pulls out his hardened length, his gaze becoming even more intense as he watches your reaction.

"Please," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper. Yunho's eyes darken further as he hears your plea, his hand still tangled in your hair.

"Please what, baby girl?" he asks, his voice a low growl.

"Please let me taste you," you whisper, looking up at him with desire in your eyes. He smiles at your request, his eyes glinting with a hint of wickedness.

"Open wide," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. You obediently open your mouth, your heart pounding in your chest as he guides his hardened length between your lips. He lets out a deep, guttural moan as you take him into your mouth, his hand still gripping your hair tightly.

"God, you feel so good," he groans, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. He starts to move his hips, slowly thrusting into your mouth as he loses himself in the sensation.

"That's it, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Take it all." He places his hand on your throat, feeling the bulge of his length as it moves in and out of your mouth. He lets out a low, possessive growl, his grip on your hair tightening even further. You feel a shiver run down your spine as you notice the veins in his hands, the sight making you even more aroused. He looks down at you with a smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

"You like looking at my hands, huh?" he asks, his voice laced with amusement. He runs his thumb along your jawline, his touch rough and possessive. He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster and more forceful as he loses himself in the pleasure.

"So eager," he groans, his hand on your throat tightening ever so slightly. He can feel himself getting closer to the edge, his breathing becoming ragged as he continues to use your mouth.

"You're gonna make me come, baby girl," he warns, his voice strained. He pulls out of your mouth and looks down at you, his chest heaving with exertion.

"I want to come inside you," he says, his eyes burning with desire. "Will you let me?"

"Yes," you breathe, your voice hoarse from the rough treatment. He grins at your answer, a look of pure lust on his face.

"Good girl," he says, grabbing your arm and pulling you to your feet. "Get on the bed." He watches you crawl onto the bed, his eyes fixed on your body. He moves behind you, his hands roaming over your skin as he positions himself between your legs. He gives your ass a firm slap, the sound echoing through the room.

"You have such a perfect ass," he growls, his hand massaging the reddened flesh. He pulls your pants down, letting out a low whistle as he sees your bare skin.

"Such a small, delicate body," he murmurs, his hands moving up to grip your hips. "So fragile... yet so eager to please me." He positions himself at your entrance, his grip on your hips tightening as he holds you in place.

"Are you ready for me, baby girl?" he asks, his voice rough with need.

"Yes Yunho," you whisper, your body trembling with anticipation. He doesn't waste any more time, thrusting into you in one swift motion. You gasp as he fills you completely, your body adjusting to his size.

"Too much?" he asks, a hint of concern in his voice despite his dominant demeanor.

"No, it's perfect," you manage to say, your voice shaky with pleasure. He begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first. He leans over you, his chest pressed against your back as he whispers in your ear.

"You're taking me so well, baby girl." He loses himself in the moment, his thrusts becoming more forceful and erratic. He grips your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he pounds into you relentlessly. Your gasps and moans spur him on, his hips slapping against yours with each thrust.

"God, you sound so good," he groans, his breath hot against your neck. He grabs a handful of your hair and pulls your head back, his thrusts becoming even rougher as he takes control. He's lost all sense of restraint now, his desire for you taking over completely. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he continues to pound into you.

"I'm not going to last much longer," he growls, his body tensing as he nears his climax. He speeds up even more, his pace almost punishing now as he chases his release.

"I'm going to fill you up," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I'm going to breed you and make you mine." He slaps your ass hard, the sound of the impact echoing through the room.

"Take it," he commands, his grip on your hair tightening as he loses himself completely in the moment. His body tenses and he lets out a deep, guttural groan as he reaches his climax. He buries himself inside you as he comes, his seed spilling deep within you.

You feel the warmth of his release as he spills inside you, the sensation making you shudder in pleasure. He holds himself there for a moment, his body trembling as he rides out the waves of his orgasm. He slowly pulls out of you, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he admires the sight of his cum dripping down your thighs.

"You took every last drop," he murmurs, his fingers trailing over your sensitive skin.

"I always will," you manage to say, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your own pleasure. He flops down on the bed beside you, a smug look on his face as he rests his arms behind his head.

"You were so good for me," he says, his eyes roaming over your body.

[payper-arts]

It’s so sad to me that I’ve kinda forgotten how to do this… not even as the result of influencers, but my actual professors at college. After having to treat my sketchbook as a graded assignment and being told some of the pages didn’t measure up to standard, I’ve dreaded having a sketchbook at all. Even years after graduating, I still don’t really like having a sketchbook because I fear the inadequacy I’ve been told I possess for not creating masterpieces in what is essentially a book meant to experiment with ideas and record thoughts…

"It took me TWO years to finish this sketch book!" Well that's cuz you're not fuckin sketching. Those are fully painted pieces dawg that's a renderedbook. I've gone through four sketchbooks in my off time this year alone I just draw stupid faces and shit for fun. pussy up like the rest of us and start drawing stick figures with guns

[yandere-sins]

How about yan!Kaeya making reader believe he's going to babytrap them? Him all, "If you have my child, you can't leave" while his darling is helplessly bound and begging for him to not do it. (he won't, of course, he's not ready for kids but causing them that fear is Delightful to him)

Mmm, yum! I see the appeal! Thanks for requesting!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Breathing heavily, neither of you was in a position to talk.

Kaeya watched as your chest kept rising and falling, your nipples surrounded by marks of this teasing and swaying with the motion, abused and swollen, beckoning him close again. There was nothing Kaeya wanted more than to get lost in the daze with you, feel your soft and wet cunt wrapped around his cock while he made you moan with his wandering hands and obedient tongue.

But as much as he loved your long, passionate lovemaking sessions, he knew what you needed afterward. Yet, he couldn't quite get up and give you the aftercare you deserved, all his strength having vanished with his own release, the liquid sprawled across your stomach.

Your pussy still dripped with spurts of your own cum, lips puffy and emitting the heat that could make even the Kaeya Alberich lose his mind. It truly was a sight for the Archons. You were the epitome of sexy, seductive, and tempting, making Kaeya's mouth water for a taste of you. Not a day passed where he regretted his decision to take you home with him and lock you up, so he was the only one to get to be with you. Every day was manageable, knowing he'd end up next to you at night, your presence healing a small part of all the pain and hurt he carried with him at all times.

You, unfortunately, disagreed.

"You disgusting piece of--"

"Ah, welcome back to the realm of the living, darling."

You let out a huff of breath, a mixture of exhaustion and ridicule, your head slowly rolling to the side to glare at Kaeya, who sat grinning between your spread legs, gently massaging the one thigh laid across his own.

"You are the worst! Scum! Complete trash!"

"That's not what you called me while you came on my cock, though."

Scoffing, Kaeya could tell you were almost done with your anger, a reoccurring emotion after every intense encounter you two had. Emotions tended to run high between you two, and he got used to it. It still hurt, though. He couldn't deny this.

"You'll pay for this," you slurred, your adorable, befuddled glare barely intimidating when you were fucked out of your mind. Like this, you were almost cuter than normally—perhaps because it was Kaeya who made you this way. You were only this cute because of him. For him.

But like always, even he got tired of your anger. Relationships, right?

"You'll regret ever kidnapping me! I'll get out, and you'll lose everything! They'll lock you up, and I'll make sure you don't get to see the light of day ever again, you bastard--"

"Right, right," Kaeya agreed for the sake of settling the argument. His hand reached out, fingertips dipping in the slowly drying jizz on top of your belly, creating such wonderful marks of possession. Undoubtedly, if anybody saw you like this—which he wouldn't allow anyone to do but himself—they'd think he took great care of you, making sure you were well-fed and well-fucked. What more could you possibly want?

"All those assumptions, I wonder how you'd want to prove them?"

Rubbing the cum between his fingers, it drew soft strings as he pulled them apart, slowly dripping off in front of the smile that crept on his lips. A new idea formed in his head, one that would afflict delicious torture to your mind. Torture that would draw you closer to him, make your demeanor softer, and mend the wounds your denial slashed into his soul.

Lowering his hand, he held it suspiciously close to your lower lips, just inches away from your sopping cunt, and you shuffled in your bonds, twisting your hips to get away.

"Who do you think they'll believe if you get pregnant?"

"That's not funny, Kaeya! Get that shit away from me!"

However, instead, Kaeya's hand kept encroaching, causing your movements to become more and more erratic as you tried to avoid his cum-stained fingers. Although there was a good chance nothing would happen, you both had been surprisingly vigilant to not accidentally get pregnant. It was too much trouble and too much work, and neither of you was in a position where you could risk it. Neither did you want his child and to co-parent with him for all their life, nor did he want to share you and risk losing something as precious as you were.

"You think they'll believe a disheveled, hysteric person over their trusted Cavalry Captain? Will they assume I am as crazy as you make me out to be or that you just want to frame me so you can get a lot of money from me?"

"I get it! You can stop this now!"

Your voice grew softer now that you felt threatened by him. Agreeable, docile, sweet. Kaeya wanted more of it, the tremble in your words silken on his mind like honey running down his throat. If he could make you confess your love—even if it was out of fear—there would be no holding back for him, but that was exactly what he wanted.

"They'd lock you up while I'd be the scorned, pitiful boyfriend that is out of his mind with worry for you. I'd visit you daily, bring you food and clothes, and make sure the baby is alright. You'd never get rid of me. I'd always be involved with you or the child. I'd have you back before you could even blink, and I never repeat a mistake."

Pressing his palm against your cunt, you whimpered, the threat of his semen-smeared fingers much too close for comfort. One dip in, and there would be a real chance all the doubts he planted with his words would come true. Kaeya's grin widened as your expression began to falter in worry and fear, another delicious sight, meaning you were so close to caving. He wasn't going to actually do it, but you didn't know that. After everything, you always assumed the worst, never bothering to ask him what he wanted. Your mistake, really.

It made you so easy to manipulate.

"Don't you want to, baby? Be all round and swollen, feeling our child kick, and have me massage your breasts since they'll be so heavy with milk? Are you not excited at the prospect of living with me forever, caring for the kid, and giving them a sibling or two? Would that not be so fun, taking our relationship to the next stage?"

And there it was. Subtle as the sun rising and falling over the day, you conceded, turning your head away ever so slightly and closing your eyes in defeat. Kaeya had learned to read you many nights ago. Learned that sometimes "stop" meant "more" and that you could be placid and coy when you wished for things to go your way, overjoyed that your "plot" worked on him when really, it was Kaeya stringing you along.

"--don't."

"Hm? I'm sorry I didn't catch that."

"Please don't," you repeated meekly, the propitiation in your voice causing gratification to soothe his ego. "I don't want to be pregnant! I didn't really... didn't really mean what I said."

"Mhm, I see," Kaeya hummed, faking his thoughtfulness as he pressed his palm a bit harder against the warmth of your pussy. He had to leave an impact you wouldn't forget so quickly if this punishment was supposed to further your relationship. "Do you still think I'm scum?"

Biting your lip, Kaeya could watch the inner fight you had with yourself not to reply snarkily. Watching your fight die down as he pressed his hand a bit lower, dangerously close to your entrance, immediately shutting up your inner thoughts, was hilarious. At the same time, the control almost went to his head, knowing all the things he could do to you at that moment.

"N-No! You're... you're alright. I was just upset, sorry."

Delicious. All good teasing had to end, even though there was much more to fish for in this situation. However, compared to the last few times you two had this argument, you had relented much quicker with the threat of pregnancy looming in the air than ever before. It was almost like he had slowly chipped away at your resolve, and just now, a big piece broke out of the wall you built around yourself.

"It's fine~" Kaeya chimed forgivingly, immediately withdrawing his hand and rubbing off his cum on your leg across his lap. Wasted opportunity, but it did the job.

"You know I can't be mad with you, darling," he mumbled, purposefully using the same hand to cup your face and rub your cheek as he leaned closer, forcing your head up. Your eyes shot open, anger and more resistance sparking in them momentarily before it died down, too, turning into frustration. Perhaps more than him, you were angry with yourself. Enraged, you had to appease him just to get your way. But Kaeya only heard the walls continue to break, chip by chip, slowly but surely, as he leaned down to kiss you.

You weakly reciprocated, just enough to satisfy him, but it was indeed enough for him. Every little hint of affection willingly given was proof that there was love inside you. Even if fear and hatred had wrapped around it like barricades, he knew it was there, waiting for Kaeya to pull it out and set it free. Soon, you'd cling to him like he did to you, and he couldn't wait to be needed by you like the air you breathed.

"Are you hungry?" he asked softly, brushing your hair aside. "Thirsty? Want a bath?"

"A bath," you immediately replied, almost too quickly. Kaeya grinned some more, knowing you just wanted to get rid of the possibility of him knocking you up anyhow by washing off the cum clinging to you almost as possessively as he was.

"Your wish is my command," he announced solemnly, almost coaxing a laugh from you. Almost.

Maybe if you two had children, you'd laugh more and be happier. Perhaps your features would soften when you looked at the father of your children. Or you'd cuddle with him as you two watched them play and be merry. But who was he to think about this?

You weren't ready yet, and by the Archons, neither was he. But the idea did settle in his mind, how wonderful it would be if this love you two shared accumulated in something new, something wonderful.

Shaking his head, he picked you up from the bed after loosening your restraints, carrying you to the bathroom, ready to fulfill your wishes and make you happy. He could do this without the need of anyone else, just like he swore the day he decided it had to be you who waited for him at home. Had to be you who received all this misguided, toxic love that burned inside of him. As if this idea of children and a family could ever come to fruition when you two barely went a day without arguing and manipulating each other.

As if he'd ever share you with anyone.

[notthatcooldude]

Lay me in the palm of your hand (2)

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader, dom!natasha x sub!reader

words: 2.4K

warnings: mommy kink, possessive nat, legal age gap (reader is 22 and nat is 38), degrading, fingering (r receiving), dom/sub dynamics, violation of traffic codes but we’re gonna ignore that, panties as a gag

notes: this isn’t properly proofread yet and I wrote this instead of sleeping so yeah I am sorry… also please inform me if I missed any important warnings!

men & minors DNI

___

As soon as you both got into the car, Natasha put her hand behind your neck and pulled you in a rough kiss. Her right hand found its way to your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh. You let out a little hum into the kiss, leaning closer to the older woman, as you tried to deepen the kiss. You were almost getting a little desperate, despite the tough act you had put on before. Natasha’s lips curled into a small smirk against yours, as she became aware of your desperation.

She pulled away, leaving you slightly breathless. Her hand stroked your thigh in a possessive manner through the fabric of your jeans. “You’re just as good as I thought you’d be… We better get to my apartment then, unless you want to have a little fun in the car now,” she said with the same small smirk that was apparently permanent on her lips. You raised your eyebrow curiously.

“What do you have in mind then?” you questioned. In that moment you couldn’t possibly have had an idea what was about to come. 

“I think I might have the perfect little idea to keep us both occupied on the way to my apartment,” Natasha teased. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes a little. Of course she wasn’t going to tell you what she was planning…

“And you said I was the naughty one,” you pointed out, earning a small smack on your thigh.

“Hey, you’re the one who got me wet in the middle of a bar, teasing me with your dirty little words,” she remarked and squeezed your thigh again. Your lips quirked into a small smirk.

“You can’t blame me though, it was way too fun,” you answered boldly. From the look on her face, you could see that you were in trouble now.

“I’m aware of that honey, and you definitely had your fun… But I think I’m gonna have to punish you for that, don’t you think?” she said, still stroking your thigh. Her hand moved further up and slid right on your inner thigh, really close to your crotch but not quite close enough.

“Yeah I.. I think I knew that the moment I said all those words,” you admitted. Your gaze shifted down to her hand, and you finally started to acknowledge just how much your pussy was throbbing already.

“That’s what I thought too, you just had to be a brat, didn’t you?” she smirked. “Now, be a good girl and let me start using you.”

Hearing those words, you felt heat pooling in your lower stomach, and you just knew that your cunt was leaking into your panties. The thought of her using you was just what you wanted - no, what you needed - and you couldn’t prevent yourself from letting out a shuddering breath.

Natasha clearly noticed the way you reacted to her words. She could see how much you enjoyed her slightly degrading words, and she enjoyed having that power over you. “You really just want to be used like a filthy little toy, don’t you? You crave it, you need to be used by someone,” she spoke and slid her hand closer to your aching cunt. 

You let out a small ‘fuck’, and closed your eyes for a moment, trying to gather yourself. However, she didn’t give you a chance for that, as she continued. “You’d let me do anything to you… Anything I wanted, as long as you could feel used… I bet you’d even thank me for that.”

You bit your lip, refusing to let out a pathetic whimper. Natasha could see how you just melted with a few right words, the bold and bratty attitude replaced by sweet submission.

Natasha gripped your jaw gently, and turned your head to face her properly, demanding your attention. “Now honey, if you need a break, if you need to stop, at any moment, your safeword is red. If I hear you saying that word, I’ll stop immediately, no questions asked, am I understood?” she asked, looking at you with a serious expression.

You gave her a little nod, but her hand didn’t move from under your chin. Her eyebrow rose up a little. “Words baby, I need to hear you say it,” she demanded.

“Yes,” you quickly corrected yourself, but it wasn’t enough for her.

“Not quite right yet baby. Yes what?” she tapped your chin lightly, waiting for the correct answer.

“Yes mommy,” you said with a small blush. She really wasn’t going to let anything slide, but you could only blame yourself for that. After all, you had called her mommy before she even had the chance to demand that title.

“Good girl,” Natasha praised, stroking your cheek with her thumb. “Now, are you gonna listen to my instructions and do as I say?” she asked, her lips curling into a smug smile as you responded with a small ‘yes mommy’.

“Come on then, lift your pretty ass up from the seat and take off your jeans,” she instructed, making you look at her questioningly. 

“Wait what?” you asked, not having any idea of what she was thinking about. Natasha let out a small chuckle.

“You heard me, take them off,” she demanded. You didn’t dare to question her authority, so you got to work. Soon your shoes and jeans were on the car floor, and you looked at her, waiting for more instructions. 

“Panties too, love. I want your pretty ass bare,” she ordered with a smirk. Your cheeks turned crimson, but you obeyed her once again. As soon as your soaked panties were off, Natasha extended her hand out to you. “Give them to me,” she said with a smug smirk. Your needy cunt throbbed at that request, and you bit back a small whine as you handed the panties over to her. Natasha stuffed your underwear into her pocket, not commenting on how wet they were.

“Now, crawl over to my lap and sit down like a good girl,” she ordered, the smirk never leaving her face. Your face turned deep red, and your eyes widened slightly. 

“Wha- Right here, right now?” you questioned, trying to figure out if she was really serious. 

“You heard me, get your pretty ass over here before I get impatient,” she demanded. You turned to look around the parking lot, to see if there were any people. Natasha gripped your chin again, and turned your face towards her. “Oh so now you care about someone seeing? Didn’t seem to care that much when you said those filthy things to me in the bar…”

“That’s… You know that if anyone walks by they’ll get a great view of my bare ass when I crawl over to your lap..,” you whined quietly.

“None of that now. You caused this yourself baby, so get that ass here on my lap now. Unless you want me to spank you right here in the parking lot?” she said and patted her lap again. You knew better than to disobey now, so with a last glance around, you got up from your seat and crawled to her side awkwardly, seating yourself down on her lap and straddling her thighs. You lifted your hands up and placed them on her shoulders. Natasha placed both of her hands on your waist, holding you in place. “That’s a good girl. Now, are you ready to hear what I want you to do?” she questioned. You were about to answer with a nod, but then remembered that she wouldn’t accept that, so you once again muttered out a small ‘yes mommy’.

Natasha’s left hand shifted lower, and her thumb started to draw slow circles around your hip bone. “You’re gonna sit still right there and ride my fingers while I drive us to my place. And you better keep quiet, or I’m gonna find a way to silence that pretty mouth of yours,” she instructed. Your eyes grew even wider than they were before. 

“But what if someone sees, and- How can you even drive like that??” you questioned, even though the thought of that scenario was already making your pussy leak even more, forming a small wet spot on Natasha’s thigh.

Natasha let out a small, low chuckle. “Don’t you worry about that love… Tuck your head down on my shoulder and I’ll see the road just perfectly. Besides, luckily my car isn’t a manual, so I can easily drive and keep your needy cunt occupied.” 

You bit back a pathetic whimper and decided to accept your fate. “Fine..,” you answered, even though she wasn’t really asking. 

“Good girl… Now, keep that pretty mouth quiet,” she said and gave your cheek a quick kiss, and moved to start the engine. Then, she moved her attention back to you. “Head down, pretty girl.”

You obeyed, and rested your head against her shoulder. You could feel her left hand sliding to your inner thigh, making you jolt a little. Your pussy ached, needing her attention, and you had to bite your lip in order to keep quiet. 

Natasha slid her fingers over your needy cunt, slipping them between your folds and gathering up your slick. “Oh my, baby, you’re so wet already… God, you’re making a mess all over my thigh. Needy little slut,” she degraded, and you couldn’t hold back a small moan. Her right hand gave a sharp smack on your ass, making you whimper. 

“What did I say about being quiet, huh? Do I need to silence you now or will you shut your mouth yourself?” she asked, inching her fingers closer to your entrance. 

“No I’ll.. I’ll be quiet, I promise mommy,” you stuttered quickly, even though you knew it was going to be an impossible task. 

“You better keep that promise. But I know it’s hard for needy little things like you to keep quiet..,” she purred right into your ear, and with that, she slipped one slender finger inside your aching pussy, making you let out a shaky breath. You clenched your thighs, but they only quivered weakly, as your legs were being forced apart by her thighs. Natasha smirked, planting a few light kisses on your neck, as she moved her finger a bit. “Fuck baby, you’re soaking wet… Are you really this desperate for mommy?”

Before you could figure out a response, a second finger found its way inside you, making your thighs quiver more. You were struggling to keep quiet, but you wanted to be good for her, or more like didn’t want her to punish you more. Judging from this, you didn’t want to know what would be the worst thing she could do to you.

“You’re such a little slut for my fingers… Your pretty cunt is leaking all over my lap,” she degraded, shifting the gear to drive and placing her right hand on the steering wheel. She curled her fingers inside you, making you jolt and let out a shuddering breath. 

“You’re gonna have to keep yourself still, baby. Can’t have you disturbing mommy while she drives, right?” she said, while brushing your clenching walls with her fingers. You forced yourself to keep quiet, only nodding against her shoulder. Natasha let out a satisfied hum, and finally started driving. 

-

She had barely driven two miles, when you couldn’t take it anymore. She kept moving her fingers at a really slow pace, but pumping them deep with each thrust. Natasha kept curling her fingers occasionally, and by the fourth time she did that, you couldn’t help but let out a shameless moan. At first, she didn’t say anything, and you already thought that she’d let it slide. However, that wasn’t the case. 

Natasha pulled to the side of the road, stopping the car, and yanking your head up by your hair. You winced at the tug, knowing that you were in trouble now. 

“You really can’t listen to simple instructions, can you? Didn’t I tell you to keep that mouth shut?” she questioned. You opened your mouth to speak, but were interrupted by a harsh smack to your backside. You jolted, making her fingers go in deeper, and once again you failed to prevent a moan from slipping past your lips.

“I know you’re too desperate to obey, so mommy will have to keep you quiet,” she said, and slid her right hand to her pocket, pulling out your panties that she had stuffed there earlier. “Maybe these will do the trick.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but couldn’t let out a sound as she rolled up the damp panties and stuffed them inside your mouth. “Look at you now… Such a filthy whore,” she said with a mocking smile, and tapped your cheek. 

Without a warning, she thrusted her fingers deeper, making you moan around the makeshift gag. The panties in fact did their trick, reducing the sounds of your moans to small, muffled groans. 

“That’s better, isn’t it? You look so fucking pretty with those panties in your mouth..,” she said with a mocking smirk. Your pussy was clenching desperately around her fingers, her degrading words feeding your arousal more than you wanted to admit.

Without another word, she placed her hand back on the steering wheel and started driving. She kept pumping her fingers lazily, but due to your desperate state, you were close so soon that it was almost pathetic. Natasha could feel the trembling of your thighs, how your walls clenched around her fingers. She let out a small chuckle.

“Are you close already baby? Such a desperate little slut… Go on, I know you can’t hold it. You can cum for mommy,” she purred against your ear. You whimpered behind the panties in your mouth, and when she curled her fingers again, your orgasm washed over you. Your cunt throbbed and clenched around her fingers, pathetic little sounds leaving your mouth. Your thighs trembled, making you sink deeper down on her fingers. 

“Mhm, that’s it… I know you were too desperate, baby,” she said with a smug smirk. “But mommy is not gonna stop though.”

Her fingers continued pumping into your soaking pussy, but this time she only picked up the pace. You let out muffled whines, as you could already feel too sensitive. Your hands gripped her shoulders for support, and you pressed your face against her neck. Natasha let out a chuckle and curled her fingers, before she talked again. “Mommy’s not gonna stop, no matter how many times you cum… So you’re just gonna have to be a good little slut and take it.”

[muiitoloko]

To Tame a Tyrant

Summary: You never expected to love the cruel Sheriff of Nottingham, but under your influence, he is changing—for the better… mostly. The problem? He is still wildly, unapologetically unhinged when it comes to you.

Pairing: Sheriff of Nottingham × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Dirty Languages, Implicit sex.

Author's Notes: I thought this story deserved a second part, so I wrote one.

First and Second part here.

Also read on Ao3

Weeks had passed, and everything had changed.

Your marriage, once built on resentment and distance, had transformed into something unexpected—something tender, passionate, and, dare you say it, happy. Gone were the days of cold avoidance and forced duty. Now, George could barely keep his hands off you, and you, in turn, now the only woman who received his attention, had discovered just how insatiable your husband truly was.

Not just in bed—though you had quickly learned that your husband was an unstoppable force of nature in that regard—but in governing as well. His ambition had always been relentless, his hunger for power unquenchable, but now, under your quiet guidance, he was learning to temper it with reason.

He had lowered the absurd taxes that once crushed the people of Nottingham, allowing them to keep enough coin to thrive rather than merely survive. The streets were livelier, the markets busier, and while George still ruled with a firm hand, he was no longer the tyrant he had been before. You were still working on softening him completely, but for now, things were far better than they had been.

And as for your marriage? It flourished.

It always amused you when George came running through the castle, his long black hair flowing behind him like a man possessed, only to skid to a halt the moment he spotted you. He would grab your hand, shower it with kisses, whispering ridiculous praises before dashing off again to whatever urgent matter awaited him.

You could always tell when he had been in meetings all day and needed a distraction—he would find you in the halls and press you against the nearest stone pillar, murmuring filth in your ear until your knees nearly buckled beneath you.

"I nearly fell asleep listening to that insufferable Baron drone on about grain," he had growled against your throat just the other day. "I was half-tempted to excuse myself and drag you onto my lap right there in front of him. Gods, wife, do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Now, as you sat across the great hall from where your husband was hosting a gathering of lords, you found yourself chatting idly with a few noblewomen, your veil still in place. The room was filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine.

Yet, despite the lively atmosphere, you felt it—the unmistakable weight of George’s gaze on you.

Lifting your eyes, you found him staring at you from across the table, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief, his lips quirking into a smirk as he waggled his eyebrows in your direction.

You blushed, heat creeping up your neck. He looked utterly ridiculous, but you knew exactly what that look meant.

Now? you mouthed silently, raising a brow.

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering, then gave an exaggerated nod, his smirk widening.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. Patience, husband.

George pouted dramatically before taking a slow sip of wine, never breaking eye contact with you.

Are you really going to make me suffer, love? his gaze teased, dark with unspoken promises.

You had only just managed to silently tell him to behave when Sir Guy took a seat next to you, clearing his throat in what was clearly meant to be a diplomatic gesture.

The moment George noticed, however, his entire demeanor shifted. His lazy smirk vanished, replaced by a scowl so deep it could curdle milk. His hazel eyes darkened with suspicion, his fingers tightening around the silver spoon in his hand with dangerous intent.

You barely suppressed a sigh.

You had heard far too many of your husband's overdramatic exclamations about skinning someone with a spoon.

Sir Guy, oblivious to the impending doom that loomed over his existence, turned to you with an air of reluctant formality. "Lady [Your Name]," he began, his voice low and measured, "I have come to—"

His words were cut off by a loud clank as George banged his spoon against the edge of his goblet, the sound echoing through the table.

Sir Guy blinked. You closed your eyes briefly, bracing yourself.

The Sheriff swirled the spoon between his fingers, his smirk returning, but this time edged with something far more menacing. "Oh, Gisbourne," he drawled, tilting his head, "I do hope you're not here to test the durability of your skin, because I assure you, I am quite skilled at removing flesh with nothing but a spoon."

Sir Guy exhaled heavily through his nose, rubbing his temples as if to stave off a headache. "Sheriff, I am merely—"

"Merely what, cousin?" George interrupted, leaning forward with a wild glint in his eye. "Merely making an utter fool of yourself by daring to sit next to my wife? Merely testing the limits of my patience? Merely seeking your own execution in the most humiliating manner possible?"

Sir Guy pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every decision that had led him to this moment. "I came to apologize," he ground out.

George froze, as if he hadn't quite processed those words. He blinked once, then twice.

You seized the opportunity. Before your husband could launch into another one of his spoon-themed death threats, you turned to Sir Guy, offering a graceful nod. "I accept your apology," you said smoothly.

George's head snapped to you, his long black hair whipping dramatically over his shoulder. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. You could practically hear the gears in his mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

Sir Guy, sensing a rare opportunity to escape with his dignity intact, rose swiftly from his seat. "Good evening, my lady." He cast a wary glance at your husband before adding, "Sheriff."

George growled.

Sir Guy wisely fled.

The moment he was gone, George turned to you, placing a hand over his heart as if deeply wounded. "You accepted his apology?" he gasped, scandalized. "You accepted his apology without demanding bloodshed? Without forcing him to grovel? Without letting me threaten him with my spoon first?"

You folded your arms, arching a brow. "Would you prefer I let you carve his face like a roasted goose?"

"Yes, actually!" George huffed, dropping his spoon onto the table with a clank. "It’s what decent wives allow their husbands to do!"

You shook your head in amusement. "You do realize that not everything needs to end in violence, George?"

He scoffed. "Tell that to Sir Guy’s smug face! He deserved at least a light stabbing!"

"You are ridiculous," you sighed, taking a sip of your wine.

George exhaled heavily, rubbing his beard as he eyed you. His earlier petulance slowly melted away, replaced by something far more dangerous—a look you knew all too well.

His voice dropped into that wicked baritone, rich and dark as honey. "Oh, sweetheart," he purred, "I may not get to stab Sir Guy, but there is one thing I do intend to have my hands all over tonight."

Heat pooled in your stomach as you met his gaze. "George—"

His smirk widened as he leaned in. "You."

You flushed, warmth creeping up your neck. You could already feel the amusement radiating from him, his entire demeanor shifting from outrage to unrepentant desire in a matter of seconds.

"George, we are in public," you hissed under your breath.

"And?" He tilted his head, his hazel eyes flickering with mischief. "You think I care? You’ve been teasing me all night, looking too damn pretty in that veil, knowing full well that I want to rip it off you with my teeth."

Your breath hitched. "George—"

"Say the word," he murmured, voice like a slow-burning fire, "and I will drag you out of here, carry you upstairs, and make you forget that bastard’s name entirely."

You swallowed hard. "You are incorrigible."

"Flattering me won’t save you, love." He reached across the table, running his fingers over your gloved hand. "If I don’t have you under me within the hour, I might actually die. It’ll be your fault."

You shot him a look, torn between amusement and exasperation. "You are the Sheriff of Nottingham," you reminded him. "A man feared throughout England. And yet, here you are, pouting like a boy denied his favorite toy."

George’s lips twitched into a wicked grin. "My favorite toy is currently sitting across from me, wearing far too many clothes."

You nearly choked on your wine.

With a satisfied smirk, George rose from his seat, stalking around the table until he reached you. He leaned down, his lips hovering just above your ear.

"You have until the count of ten, wife," he whispered, his voice a velvet promise of ruin. "Then, I’m dragging you upstairs, whether you like it or not."

You shivered, pressing your thighs together. "George—"

"One," he murmured, his fingers ghosting over your arm.

Your breath hitched.

"Two."

Heat coiled in your belly.

"Three."

You barely managed to suppress a whimper.

"Four—"

"Fine!" You bolted to your feet, sending your goblet sloshing onto the table as you grabbed his hand. "But if you so much as try to rip my dress again, I swear I will—"

George grinned. "No promises, love."

With that, he scooped you up—right in the middle of the great hall—and carried you toward your chambers, completely unbothered by the scandalized gasps and amused whispers trailing in your wake.

You buried your face in his shoulder, mortified. "I hate you."

"You adore me," he corrected, kissing the top of your head.

And as he kicked open the door to your chambers—his eyes gleaming with dark intent—you had a sinking suspicion that he was absolutely right.

The echoes of drunken laughter and raucous revelry from the great hall drifted through the thick stone walls, muffled but ever-present. You lay tangled with George in the warm cocoon of your bed, your body draped lazily over his broad chest, your fingers idly tracing the contours of his toned stomach. His skin was still slick with the aftermath of your shared passion, and his breath was steady beneath you, though every so often, his fingers—long and dexterous—twisted idly into your hair as if he still couldn't quite believe he had you like this.

"You're quiet," he murmured, his deep baritone sending shivers down your spine. His hazel eyes, heavy-lidded with sated amusement, peered at you from beneath his unruly black hair. "Not regretting what just happened, are you?"

You scoffed, turning your face into his chest to hide your smirk. "Oh, yes. It was terrible," you teased, pressing a lingering kiss against his warm skin. "I might need you to try again—just to be sure."

George chuckled, a low, wicked sound that rumbled beneath your cheek. His hand slipped down your spine, fingers splaying possessively across your bare hip. "Careful what you wish for, love," he murmured, nipping at the top of your head. "You might not leave this bed for days."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away. Instead, you allowed yourself the comfort of his touch, the rare intimacy of these quiet moments between you. And yet, despite the warmth, despite the safety of his embrace, you hesitated. You knew what was coming.

"You know," George began, his tone deliberately casual, "you don’t need to wear the veil all the time anymore."

You stiffened slightly against him, but he tightened his hold, his fingers kneading at your scalp in slow, soothing strokes. "People will talk," you murmured, not quite able to meet his gaze.

George snorted. "Let them. And if anyone dares use it to speak ill of you, I promise, love, I’ll carve their heart out with a spoon."

That earned a reluctant laugh from you. "A spoon, George?"

"It’s poetic justice," he replied smugly. "They’ll feel it, every little scrape and tear—"

"Alright, alright!" You waved a hand, cutting off his grotesque imagery. "I get it. You're very terrifying."

"You wound me, wife," he drawled, mock-offended, though the way he was still playing with your hair betrayed his amusement.

A beat of silence passed between you, your fingers still absently stroking his chest. And then, out of nowhere, you changed the subject.

"You should cut your hair."

George, who had just been preoccupied with kissing the top of your head, pulled back, blinking at you in genuine shock. "What?"

"It's getting wild," you pointed out, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could look down at him properly. "You look positively feral."

George scoffed, clearly offended. "And what of it? I like my long hair."

You smirked, tilting your head. "Oh, I don’t mean that hair, George."

The Sheriff frowned in confusion, but then your eyes dropped down—slowly, deliberately. His hazel gaze followed yours, landing on the dark, tangled mess between his thighs.

Understanding dawned.

His mouth opened—then closed—then opened again. "You little—!"

You bit back a wicked grin, feigning innocence as you trailed your fingers teasingly down his abdomen, stopping just above the very thing you were referring to. "It's wild, George," you repeated, your voice dropping into a sultry whisper. "Untamed. Unruly. Beastly."

George exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching where they rested against your waist. "You’ve never had a problem with it before," he accused, his baritone roughening as your touch grew more insistent.

"I never said I had a problem with it," you countered, brushing your lips over his jaw. "But have you seen it? It’s a proper medieval forest down there."

George groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. "Gods, woman. Are you truly trying to discuss this while I’m still recovering from the last round?"

You hummed, nipping at his earlobe. "You say that, but I feel you stirring again, husband."

His hands grabbed you then, flipping you onto your back in one swift, effortless motion. Before you could react, he had pressed himself between your thighs, his weight deliciously heavy, his smirk downright filthy.

"You want it trimmed?" he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Then you’ll have to earn it, sweetheart."

His teeth grazed your throat.

And just like that, the conversation about his grooming habits was entirely forgotten.

The streets of Nottingham bustled with life as you made your way through the market, the familiar sights and sounds wrapping around you like an old friend. The air was thick with the scent of freshly baked bread and roasting meats, mingling with the tang of damp earth after last night's rain. Merchants called out their wares, bartering with customers who haggled with the same energy they used to survive in these harsh times.

You pulled your cloak tighter around you, the ever-present veil draped over your head as you walked with measured grace. The people of Nottingham had grown accustomed to you by now—no longer did they whisper behind their hands about the "Sheriff’s hidden wife." Instead, they bowed their heads respectfully as you passed, offering small smiles of gratitude. Some still hesitated when they looked upon you, but you were no longer an enigma—they knew what you did for them.

You were their Lady.

A castle guard trailed behind you, his posture stiff, eyes ever-watchful. He wasn’t there by your request, but by George’s demand.

"You will not go into town alone, wife. You belong to me, and I’ll not have some filthy rebel attempting to snatch you away while you hand out alms like some Sainted Madonna."

"The people love me, George."

"Yes, well, the people are also fickle. Love is a cheap currency, easily swayed by hunger or desperation. I trust my men more than I trust the whims of a starving peasant."

And so here you were, followed like a precious treasure that your husband refused to leave unguarded.

You sighed, glancing over your shoulder at the guard. "Do you really think I need protection? The only danger I seem to pose is to your feet, what with how much you have to follow me around."

The man—whose name you had learned was Marcus—had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed. "The Sheriff was quite… insistent, my lady."

"Of course he was," you muttered. Possessive bastard.

Despite George’s paranoia, the people welcomed you warmly. The butcher’s wife pressed a bundle of fresh meat into your hands with a knowing smile, refusing payment. The baker’s son—who had once been too afraid to look at you—now beamed as you ruffled his hair, his mother thanking you for the flour donation you had arranged the week before.

Even the beggars knew you by name, their gratitude shining in their eyes as you handed out small parcels of food. You saw a woman clutching a young child to her chest, her cheeks hollow with hunger, and immediately knelt before her, offering a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth.

"Eat, and let the boy eat first," you instructed softly.

The woman’s eyes filled with tears. "May God bless you, my lady."

You only smiled.

It was the least you could do.

The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows across the Sheriff’s chambers, illuminating the tension that hung in the air like a storm cloud. George sat behind his grand oak desk, idly twirling a silver spoon between his fingers, his hazel eyes dark with thought. The sharp scent of parchment and ink filled the room, mingling with the lingering fragrance of the woman he had just kissed goodbye before she left for the marketplace. His marketplace.

Sir Guy of Gisbourne, lounging carelessly in a chair across from him, smirked as he polished his gauntlets. “She’s out again,” he remarked idly.

George didn’t bother looking up. “I know.”

“With only one guard.”

The spoon in George’s hand stopped twirling.

Sir Guy stretched his legs out, his smirk widening. “If someone were to… I don’t know… lay a hand on her—”

The crack of wood echoed through the chamber as George slammed his fist against the desk, his hooked nose flaring with rage. He leaned forward, his long black hair falling over his shoulders as he fixed his cousin with a murderous glare.

“If someone laid a hand on her,” George murmured, his voice a low, velvety growl, “I would skin the bastard alive.”

Sir Guy chuckled, unimpressed. “A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

George’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, dear cousin. I wouldn’t use a knife.” He tapped the spoon against the desk with deliberate precision, his hazel eyes gleaming with something wicked. “I would use this.”

Sir Guy blinked. “A… a spoon?”

“Yes, Guy,” George drawled, his voice dripping with mock patience, “a spoon.”

There was a beat of silence before Sir Guy scoffed. “Why in the name of all things holy would you skin someone with a spoon?”

George exhaled sharply, running a hand down his beard as if physically restraining himself from launching across the desk and throttling his cousin. Then, he leaned in, lowering his voice into something dark and insidious.

“Because, you absolute imbecile, it would hurt more.”

Sir Guy stared at him, utterly dumbfounded.

George, enjoying his cousin’s slow-dawning horror, picked up the spoon and tapped it against his palm. “Can you imagine it, Guy?” he purred. “The dull edge scraping against flesh, peeling away inch by inch… the slow, agonizing realization that death isn’t coming quickly?” He sighed dreamily, as if discussing a fine vintage of wine. “Oh, the screams would be divine.”

Sir Guy paled. “That sounds like a lot of work.”

George scoffed. “Oh, and you’re one to talk about hard work, you lazy bastard.”

Sir Guy, still looking slightly disturbed, crossed his arms. “All this effort… for such an ugly woman?”

The room fell into a stunned silence.

The air grew thick, heavy with unspoken violence.

Sir Guy, realizing a second too late what he had just said, swallowed hard.

George’s expression darkened, his entire body going unnaturally still. His long fingers, which had been toying so playfully with the spoon, tightened around the handle until his knuckles turned white. His hazel eyes burned with something murderous, something ancient and bloodthirsty.

Sir Guy, survivor that he was, knew that look.

And he ran.

“SCRIBE!” George bellowed, launching himself from his chair so violently that it toppled over. He stormed toward the door, his boots slamming against the stone floor as he kicked it open with enough force to rattle the hinges. “SCRIBE, YOU USELESS FUCK, GRAB THAT TRAITOROUS SON OF A WHORE!”

Scribe, the unfortunate castle servant whose tongue George had removed long ago for “slanderous tendencies,” paled from where he stood just outside the door. His eyes darted between George and the rapidly retreating figure of Sir Guy.

Scribe hesitated.

George saw the hesitation and lost his mind.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!” he roared, pointing wildly at the fleeing knight. “GRAB HIM, YOU SPINELESS WASTE OF SPACE—”

Scribe, wisely deciding that this was not his fight, turned and bolted in the opposite direction.

George stopped mid-rampage, looking personally offended.

“COWARD!” he shouted after him, before resuming his pursuit of his cousin.

Sir Guy, armor clanking, hurtled down the hallways of Nottingham Castle like a man fleeing the Devil himself. “George, listen—” he panted, dodging a servant who shrieked and flattened against the wall. “It was a joke! A harmless jest—!”

“I WILL FLAY YOU WITH A SPOON AND STUFF YOUR ENTRAILS INTO YOUR OWN GODDAMN BOOTS!” George thundered, gaining ground with terrifying speed.

Sir Guy, having known George since childhood, realized two things in rapid succession:

1 - George was fast when he was angry.

2 - George was always angry.

“GEORGE, I’M SORRY!” Sir Guy tried again, veering sharply around a corner and nearly colliding with a maid carrying a basket of linens.

George vaulted over the basket like a man possessed.

“YOU DARE INSULT MY WIFE?!” George bellowed. “MY WIFE, WHOSE PUSSY YOU COULDN’T LICK EVEN IF I ALLOWED YOU THE PRIVILEGE?!”

Sir Guy tripped.

George pounced.

The two men crashed to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs and furious curses.

George, straddling his cousin with murder in his eyes, yanked the spoon from his belt and pressed the rounded edge to Sir Guy’s throat.

“Take it back,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Sir Guy, winded, stared up at his enraged cousin and wisely chose self-preservation over dignity.

“I take it back!” he wheezed. “She’s—she’s stunning, George! Ravishing! A true goddess!”

George narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”

Sir Guy, staring down the blunt edge of the spoon, gritted his teeth. “I adore her, George. She is the light of Nottingham. A—A radiant jewel among—among swine.”

George considered this.

Then, with a sniff, he stood.

Sir Guy groaned, rolling onto his stomach, pressing his forehead against the cold stone floor. “You’re an absolute lunatic.”

George, smoothing his coat like a civilized man, twirled the spoon between his fingers and smirked.

“I do try.”

[fangirl-erdariel]

One thing that sometimes bugs me in the comparisons to Tolkien is that - it's not even like Tolkien's works are entirely devoid of sexual violence?? Like. He doesn't go into graphic detail on it, it's not something Tolkien has in central focus. But it most definitely is there. (And hey, Tolkien also doesn't go into detail on non-sexual violence if he doesn't need to)

More specific examples and rambling on the topic under the cut, bc this got long on what is already a long post

It really doesn't take a particularly attentive reader to figure out Wormtongue's intentions and desires regarding Éowyn, for instance; like yeah he never lays a hand on her as far as we know, but the threat of what could have happened if he'd gotten his way is... pretty obvious

And Silmarillion has its share of male characters desiring women (or the political power of those women's families, depending) and attempting (sometimes succeeding) to force them into marriage. I don't feel like getting involved in the debate of whether Aredhel initially not being "wholly unwilling" to marry Eöl and stay in Nan Elmoth disqualifies her from the list or whether the amount of coercion involved is enough to still make it count.

But Lúthien most definitely is kidnapped against her will, and though she escapes before anything happens, Celegorm's intention explicitly was to marry her whether she wanted or not. Upon seeing Lúthien, Morgoth, the evil dark lord "conceived in his thought an evil lust, and a design more dark than any that had yet come into his heart", and I think we all can figure out what that is (and his lines in the Lay of Leithian, talking of Lúthien as "a pretty toy for idle hour" and speaking about kissing and then bruising and crushing pretty flowers... it's not particularly subtle), even if once again he doesn't get to actually do so.

And there's Maeglin, who desires Idril, and who is promised "the possession of Idril" as reward for betraying the location of the hidden realm of Gondolin, "and indeed desire for Idril -- led Maeglin the easier to his treachery"

And in the children of húrin bit there's Aerin of the folk of Hador whom the invader lord Brodda takes as wife against her will. And then of course there's Míriel of Númenor, whom her cousin Pharazôn forcibly marries in order to seize her throne that is rightfully there

All those are just what I can think of off the top of my head; I'm sure there'd be more examples if I cared to go digging through the material, but I can't be bothered

So, like. Yeah. Sure. Tolkien doesn't really ever use the word "rape" for the things that happen (he seems to mainly use that word in the more archaic meaning of large-scale destruction and/or robbery by violent means, rather than in its modern definition). And in Lúthien and Idril's cases, of course ultimately nothing happens, they escape and all. And as noted, Aredhel's case is more debatable since she wasn't "wholly unwilling". But still.

I'm pretty dang sure that Tolkien understood that a woman being married against her will would be subjected to sexual violence, and is assuming that to be the reader's understanding of the situation when those cases come up. Gríma's, Morgoth's, and Maeglin's intentions towards the women they desire are definitely to be understood as violent and with no care towards what the women in question want (and at least in Morgoth's case, judging by Lay of Leithian, even actively delighting in the idea of doing it by force to an unwilling victim)

And just. I don't know. It kind of bugs me when people act like Tolkien's setting and works are unrealistic because they're devoid of sexual violence? Like. Well first of all, as earlier posters in the thread have pointed out, massive amounts of sexual violence aren't necessarily realistic to begin with. But like also it is a thing that does happen in the setting too... I don't even mean this as a like "oh isn't it so fun doesn't this make the books so much more adult" or anything, and I understand people who enjoy Tolkien's books because it doesn't have like explicit rape scenes the way some other authors do. I just like... the fact that people keep claiming that sexual violence pretty much doesn't even exist in Middle-Earth, when it very much does, it's just kind of left as a threat and an implication or spoken of in very vague terms, is kind of baffling? Honestly it kinda gives the impression that the person saying it either hasn't read Tolkien since they were thirteen or doesn't actually spend the time to understand what the text they're reading means beyond the most obvious surface level. Or they're deliberately saying something that isn't true because it serves some point they want to make

Like, just because something is not shown explicitly in graphic detail with pages upon pages of description, doesn't mean it's not there in the story or the setting at all? You're supposed to pick up on implications and read between the lines and understand those as deliberate choices from the author and a part of the story and setting too?

Someone over on Discord asked, "I'm morbidly curious: How BAD is A Song of Ice and Fire in terms of the authenticity George claims it to be?"

My reply was straightforward:

The long and the short of it is that ASOIAF is basically a vehicle for GRRM to present both his rape fetish and his Hobbesian view on human nature and has less historical accuracy than Frozen or most other Disney movies.

That's actually a good way to think of it, now that I've said it--he's Family Unfriendly, they're Family Friendly, but both have the same relationship with History: just Pure Aesthetic with no consideration for how the worldbuilding would work.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

Hi, here is an idea for a plot : marcus is send to kidnap a women because Greta has heard that she is the most beautiful women on earth. He does it but during the travel back they both fall for esch other. Thank you I love your work

Note: Thank you very much for the request, sweet anon. I don't know if I fulfilled it completely, but I hope that I could give you at least a little pleasure with this scribble. I managed to find a moment of time and I wanted to do it. thank you!

Warnings : some violence but not literally, some weird stuff, some romance, some kissing

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

General Marcus Acacius [masterlist]

witch. l General Marcus Acacius

"General!" the young man rushed into his tent and quickly bowed his head. "Forgive me, sir, but we have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" he muttered without even looking up from the map he had spread out on the plain table.

Marcus, out of the corner of his eye, noticed that the man shifted restlessly, until words finally flowed from his lips that forced General Acacius to look at him.

"I think we have some kind of witch in the camp."

His head had been hurting unbearably for several hours. This journey had been completely pointless. Emperor Geta had heard rumors, whispered among other men, that somewhere on the territory of his country was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Greed and lust made him want to possess her, enslave her. After all, only the Emperor should be able to possess someone like that. He deserved it. She was his due.

General Acacius, on the other hand, believed that these rumors were nonsense. A well-concocted tale to mock the Emperor and his stupid greed. He also didn't believe that any woman would consciously and willingly want to enter a cage and be locked up with such a man. 

But Marcus had no other choice, because when Geta invited him to his chambers and assigned him this mission, his views no longer counted.

Just as he had done during the war, so now, he found the woman, captured her and was on his way to Rome. However, it was a hard road. And you made sure that each of the soldiers who enslaved you would remember you for a long time.

So you were locked in a carriage, part of the walls of which were bars so that you could at least enjoy a little fresh air or sun. You used it as much as you could.

Marcus stopped in front of the carriage and looked sternly at several men, one of whom threw a bucket of icy water straight at the post standing inside.

"By the gods! What's going on here?!" he roared.

"General!" the men bowed quickly. "This... This is a witch! Ever since we stopped, she's been deceiving our heads and senses, telling such things..."

"I'm telling the truth!" the woman's voice was strong and stubborn. It clearly reached Marcus despite the dull pain in her temples. "And the gods will punish you all! You will grovel under their feet like worthless, filthy vermin!"

Someone splashed water again and they heard a distinct snort. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

The soldiers looked at their commander. A mixture of fear and uncertainty was written on their faces, but Marcus knew perfectly well that in such a state, further travel would be an even more difficult task. Finally, he nodded to the man who had brought him here.

"Release her and bring her to my tent." he ordered.

"But, sir!"

"That's an order. She is to appear there as soon as possible." he added and then went back to his place.

You appeared after a few minutes. The clothes you were wearing were completely soaked, and strands of hair stuck to your face. And although you were shaking like leaves in the wind, rebellion and stubbornness did not disappear from your face. You twitched nervously when he tried to put a rough blanket on your shoulders.

"Calm down, I won't do anything to you." he said quietly. "Sit down, have a drink of wine."

Slender fingers tightened on the material, but finally, with quite a confident step, you moved to the place he indicated. Sweet wine and a few bites of bread occupied you enough that Marcus could calmly look at you. He hadn’t had the opportunity to do so before.

When he took you from your home, chaos reigned. The appearance of a detachment of Romans worried the inhabitants of a nearby village, and you... 

Acacius couldn't remember if he had ever seen a woman defend herself so well. One of the soldiers lost a tooth when you hit him in the face with a saucepan you had at hand, and more than one of them had marks from your nails on them. It was only when someone dared to put a cloth bag over your head that your curses and swearing stopped. 

Only now could Marcus look at you. Indeed, you were beautiful. However, he didn’t think that your beauty was only in your face or body, you had something in you that he hadn’t seen before. 

Incredible stubbornness, pride, but also recklessness since you were not afraid to challenge a group of men on whom your life depended.

"You're staring, soldier." You mumbled, washing down a bite of bread with wine.

Marcus came closer and sat down on a chair close to you. "I'm a general." He said.

You shrugged, though. "You're a soldier. A puppet in the hands of a man who thinks he's a god."

"That man sent me for you." He noticed that you looked at him nervously, like a scared animal. "He's heard rumors about you."

"Rumors." You repeated, dusting off your hands and wrapping the blanket around yourself tighter, because the wet clothes were sticking to your body. "I've seen many more beautiful ones."

"I don't..."

You shook your head, biting your lip. "Don't say that."

You noticed how the general tilted his head, looking at you closely. His dark eyes didn't tear themselves away from you and you didn't like what you were feeling. From the beginning, you felt that something was wrong with this man. He was different. Different from those you knew.

"You expected us to come." The general's voice was low and melodic, a warm shiver ran through your body. "How is that possible? Who warned you?"

"Nobody. Soldier."

You wanted to insult him. You wanted to draw a line and show that you weren't afraid of him, that you despised him. But he just smiled. He stretched his long legs in front of him and folded his arms across his chest.

"My name is Marcus." he said and ignored your snort. "And yours? Or should I call you a witch?"

He noticed how your eyebrows drew together. "I have a name." you replied and gave it to him.

The general played with it for a few moments, rolling it on his tongue, and you hated how good it sounded in his mouth. Finally, he sat up and held out his hand to you. You flinched.

"I won't do anything to you." Marcus smiled gently.

"I'm not afraid of you." you replied. "Neither of you nor any of your soldiers."

When your hand clenched in his, he felt something strange in an instant. A strange warmth flowed through his skin and veins, it hit him straight to his heart. He wanted to relax his fingers and withdraw his hand, but he couldn't. A hot feeling filled him, clearing his mind and thoughts, and the headache... He realized then that he hadn't felt it for a few moments.

You must have felt the same, because your lips parted and your face brightened as if you had suddenly understood a huge secret.

"It’s you..."

"Me?"

You slid off the chair and knelt down in front of him, your eyes fixed on him as if he were the greatest treasure. "I've seen you before. In my dreams. I didn't understand it until the seeress in the temple told me..."

Marcus wanted to touch your face. Colossal fingers clumsily brushed the skin of your cheek, but you didn't seem to feel it, because you were so focused on him.

"She said a man would come and take me away by force. I thought it was a curse..."

"And it isn't? I took you by force, you fought like a lioness."

"But I didn't fight you, I fought your men. And every other man who tried to. That's where the rumors started, which were just nonsense. The gods made fun of us..."

The tip of his finger moved across your lips. They were soft and warm. The thought of tasting them was born in Marcus' head, but he fought it.

"Emperor Geta... That's where I'm taking you."

"Are you sure?"

He wasn't. Geta wouldn't be happy if he met your resistance and Marcus knew that this would quickly turn into a terrible tragedy. He just didn't know who would lose their life first because of this. Marcus closed his eyes for a moment, but behind his eyelids he could still see your face and your eyes fixed on him.

"You know perfectly well that I'm not for him... The gods didn't destined me for him. However, they used him to make our paths cross."

You let go of his hand and stood up. A gentle touch on his cheek, your breath on his lips. You were so close that the air around him burned.

"I had a dream." he whispered quietly. "I felt you in it, but I didn't see you. You were like a wild animal, but when you looked at me we both knew that we were no threat to each other. That we were looking for each other."

"That's how it was..."

He felt your lips on his. The gentle and tender touch of lips that tasted of sweet wine. Each kiss was a promise of eternity, endless love and sensations that only souls truly dedicated to each other could experience. 

Strong arms pulled you to his broad chest, and his lips became more violent, more greedy. But you weren't afraid, not of him. You already knew that Marcus would do everything so that you wouldn't appear before the Emperor. 

You were his, by the will of the gods.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[softcursechoso]

All Strings Attached: Persuasion

Levi Ackerman x Reader NSFW

MDNI! FROM THIS SENTENCE ON YOU ARE AGREEING THAT YOU ARE 18+

Oneshot

Summary: As the silent and formidable leader of the underground’s most notorious gang, power and resources are always within your grasp. Yet, the one thing you truly desire—mastering ODM gear—can only be taught by Levi. Unfortunately for you, he’s as stubborn as he is skilled, refusing to entertain the idea of teaching you. But you’re nothing if not persuasive, and if Levi won’t yield to reason, perhaps he’ll succumb to something a bit more enticing. After all, there’s more than one way to make a man reconsider…

Contains: Porn with plot, possessive sex, fingering, oral sex (m/f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, explicit pillow talk, multiple positions

Just know if you ever see me write a oneshot it's gonna be some nasty shit.

Words: 8k+

Home : 4:32pm : Underground 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” You sucked your teeth. “What am I to do with you?”

In a place like the Underground there weren’t very many beacons of light. Your shop that doubled as your home was the exception. People came far and wide to visit your shop. You even got commissions from people living on the surface every now and then. It was everything to you. It was your livelihood. It was your peace.

Currently you were at your sewing table in the back of the shop making a beautiful gown out of some purple fabric you had. Nothing compared to the dress you wore, however. The clothes you made were unlike any people had ever seen underground or even on the surface. Today you decided on an off the shoulder red dress. Showed a decent amount of cleavage and had a high split up the left leg. The material clung to your waist and fanned out past your hips in many gorgeous layers of chiffon.

Your white gloved hands continued to work as you spoke, “You think you know a guy, and all of a sudden he’s sprinting down the road with a beautiful hand beaded white lace gown that he didn’t pay for. Why?”

Your eyes were not upset, in fact, you didn’t even look up from your work as you spoke. Very strange considering the person you were speaking with was a man being brutally pinned down with his head pressed deep into your sewing table by two of your gang members.

“Fuck you!” The man grunted.

“No, the reason is not fuck you .” You’d continue to work on the dress, connecting in another bead. “I suppose the reason doesn’t matter anyway. It’s time for you to pay me for that dress you stole. Lace is a very complicated design to work with, let alone to make from scratch like I did. White is a highly uncommon fabric color to come across down here. Hmm, I’m feeling generous today. Just pay me what the dress is worth, plus the fee for making my guys chase you, and we’ll be good.” You smiled.

“I ain’t got no money! You gon have to kill me, bitch!” He yelled at you as the blood from his mouth spilled a bit. Your men were a little rough with him when bringing him back to your shop.

“No money? A shame.” You gently set the dress you were working on down. 

You scooted out of your chair a bit and pulled up the split in your dress. There were dark brown stockings that adorned your legs, along with a garter that held a knife and a razor. The knife was your blade of choice in circumstances like this. A gift from a good friend.

“Let’s be clear about what happens here, okay?” You stood up from your chair as you held up the knife. “I will be personally removing your hand with this. You will leave my shop taking your filthy thieving hand with you. When people ask who did this to you, you will not utter my name. Say Wil, Alfie, Heinrich, Klara, Eduard, or anyone else in my crew- but not me. Should my name be mentioned with any violence attached to it, I will personally pluck both of your eyes from your skull. My reputation means everything to me, so I wouldn’t be satisfied with just your eyes. I’ll want the eyes of your children too, understand?”

The man had the fear of God in him. You didn’t know if he had children or not, but the threat seemed good enough. There was a reason you didn’t want your name mentioned, and it was optics. You needed people to believe that you were a weak tailor who was paying for the protection of a powerful gang. In reality, you were the strongest of them all.

Often you did the dirty work because none of your gang had the stomach to. You knew what it took to survive down here. You often did things that went against your morals, but if it meant living another day then sobeit. 

They were your family, and you wanted to be sure that they could rest easy at night. As easy as one could down here anyway.

“Say thank you!” Wil growled, “She’s showing you mercy.”

Wilhelmine, often referred to as Wil- your sister. She had pale skin and long dark brown hair that brought out her gorgeous blue eyes. She was not your biological sister, no, but someone you’d been raised with since before you could speak. She was a few years older and very protective. A great friend. A sister.

“It’s okay Wil.” You looked into her eyes. “I don’t feel like being the bigger person anymore.”

For the next few minutes, the sounds in your shop were absolutely brutal. It was hard to hear the sound of a man begging for his life as you sawed off his hand with a pocket knife. You took no pleasure in this, but saw it as an occupational necessity.

The man left, your shop had been cleaned, and you were back to beading your dress. Things calmed down since you ran off the thief, but you were still waiting on a specific visit.

In your shop now were you, Wil, and Alfie. Alfie being your tall blonde right hand man. The two of you were tighter than handcuffs on the last rung. You were all shooting the shit in the meantime.

“I think Furlan's gonna propose to you soon.” Wil spoke as she filed her nails.

You laughed, “That's very dramatic. I think he knows better. I definitely see him as a brother. Plus I'm already married to my work.”

Alfie leaned back in his seat with two legs of the chair lifted off the ground. “You don't have urges though? I've never seen you with a man.”

“I absolutely have urges.” You confirmed. “Don't worry about my pleasure. I'm well taken care of.”

“By Furlan?!” Wil's eyes widened.

“Levi?” Alfie followed up.

You didn't answer instantly, and with these two that always made them jump to conclusions.

The blonde man leaned forward in his chair until all four legs were on the floor. He was frowning at you with his mouth ajar.

“You're fucking Levi?!” Alfie laughed. “Holy shit! I knew someone had to be in your bed. You've been very level headed for the past few months. Went from cutting off heads to cutting off hands! Was that his idea?”

Wil gasped, her eyes locked on you. “It's true isn't it? Levi? Really? Isn’t he kind of- small?”

You huffed forcefully as you stopped working on the gown to address these two. “Would it change your lives if I said it was true?” Before they could react too much you'd shut down the rumors. “It's business. All of it. I doubt I'd be able to hide an entire affair. I'm too busy and there are way too many eyes on me.” 

“True.” Wil nodded, “That’s a good point.”

 Alfie shook his head in disbelief, “I’m not buying it.”

“What do you want me to say?” Your eyes rolled so hard as your voice shifted into sarcastic territory. “Ooh, yeah! Levi gives it to me so good every night! He may be short, but he’s big where it counts. Mhmmm. He’s the reason I’ve been so nice lately despite him being much colder than I am!”

Wil smiled softly, “Wow. How do you make it throughout the day with all that pent up energy?”

“I told you, my pleasure is well taken care of.” You settled down again. 

“It's Levi, no question.” Your sister snickered. “I don’t know how we didn’t see it until now.”

Speak of the devil. Upon the conversation ending, the door to your shop opened and in walked Levi.

“That's our cue.” Wil gazed over at Alfie.

The two gave a brief formality to Levi before heading out. They were really making things awkward today!

“Hello, Levi.” You gave a soft smile to the man.

“What do you want?” The man walked over to the seat opposite you at your sewing table.

“Why do you already have an attitude?” You'd stop sewing your dress to look at him with your sweet, almost innocent eyes. “Nothing happened yet.”

“I know you have some shitty request. So ask.” Both his arms and legs crossed as he spoke to you. “You never call me to the shop.”

“Never? That's a stretch Levi.” You stood up and walked over to a shelf stocked with towels. You'd pull the gray one and walk back over to the man. “I even worked around your schedule. You were coming in today anyway for your haircut, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone.”

“Why aren't you cutting to the chase?” His eyes remained locked on you.

“Because…” You placed the towel around his neck and tucked it into his collar. “Maybe I just wanna know how your day went first.” 

“You don't care about that information. I know you. If I have to ask you what you want one more time I'm going to leave.”

You'd uncross his legs before lifting up the many layers of your dress and straddling his lap. “I do care about your day just to be clear.”

You'd grab the brush and hair tie from behind you on your table. Softly you'd brush his hair up into a ponytail and tie it. Plenty of the strands were small and stubborn, but you could work around them.

“Don't be funny.” Levi spoke in a neutral tone. 

God you were such a tease. How did a common thug like Levi end up in a position like this with the most beautiful woman in the underground? You weren’t like anyone else, that's for sure. Perhaps that opinion might change on the surface, but then again, maybe not.

You’d pull your hair up into a cute bun before starting on his hair.

“This whole haircut thing was your idea.” You attempted to hide a smile. “I'm not a barber and yeeeeet- you trust no one to be this close to you with a blade but me. I can't ask about your day while I do it?”

His hands gripped your waist with intense vigor. “You always wanna be so damn close. That wasn't my idea.”

“And you can’t say no? I didn’t think you were so weak for my charm.” 

“If I didn’t let you then I’d have to hear you bitch.”

You’d remove the elbow length white gloves that adorned your arms and set them on the table behind you. “If you didn’t like hearing me bitch then you wouldn’t come to my shop so often, Levi.”

Your leg lifted a bit, and the high split in your dress revealed the garter on your leg once again. Snuggly settled underneath was a razor. Those dark brown stockings were impossible to ignore. They were… a weakness.

Why did you always make it so hard to discuss plans? You were such a temptress, but it was fun to tease him. Especially when he was being so serious. You always broke him though.

“Where's the knife?” Levi's eyes were looking down at your garter. His rough hand hooked under your knee and briefly pulled it closer to get a better look.

You’d pull the straight razor from your garter and lower your leg once more. “Alright, hold still dollface.” You held his face with one hand and began to cut his hair with the other. “I had to use the knife on a guy. Don’t even worry about it.”

Your hands were delicate as you began to line him up and trim down his undercut the way he liked.

“Where is he?” 

You chuckled, “Don't worry- he didn't hurt me if that's what you're concerned about. I do have a cramp in my hand from dealing out a little punishment if you wanna kiss it better though.”

You could tell he was getting so irritated about you blatantly skirting around the big question. What did you have to ask him?!

“Why are you dragging this shit out?” He gently moved your razor wielding hand away from him. “Talk, now.”

“I hate when you read me.” You'd give a little pout before leaning into his lips- as close as you could get without connecting. “What if I said I'm scared to ask?” You spoke in a fictitiously coy manner.

“Get over it.” He'd speak without leaning even a hair closer than you did.

“Just hear me out, okay?” You'd lean closer, pressing your lips delicately into his.

You'd have to get his defenses nice and low before you made your request. He pressed back into your lips and squeezed you just a bit tighter. You moved your free hand to the back of his neck. You could feel his muscles tense up. He loved when you touched him there.

“I have come so far during my time in this hellhole. There is not one person I fear down here, and at the same time, there isn’t one person I know who doesn’t fear me… Teach me to ride.” You kissed him deeper this time, pulling him closer to you. Your mouth opening just a bit for your tongues to briefly meet.

“Teach you to ride?” Levi frowned.

You giggled into the next kiss, “Don't be nasty, Levi. The ODM gear. I wanna learn to use it.”

“This shit again.” The man sighed as if he were already exhausted from the conversation. 

“Yes this shit again.” It was a revisited topic and you knew how he felt about it, therefore, you knew it was time to do a little convincing. “Don’t be scared. I’m a fast learner. You know that.”

One hand snaked between you two and rubbed against his growing erection. “Please.”

Your lips pressed against his neck giving little nips every now and then before finally settling at a spot on his neck where you sucked his pale skin.

“You're so goddamn manipulative.” His words had absolutely no conviction as his hands pulled you closer.

“Is it working?” Your tongue ran across his new love mark as you pulled away. “I can bounce on your cock if it’ll expedite the situation.”

“Why are you putting me in this position?” He'd reach for the back of your dress and begin to unzip it down the spine. “You know what the answer is.”

“Why?” You growled. Your hands held your dress up so it wouldn't fall.

“You already have a massive target on your back from the shit you pull within these walls. You using ODM gear will get you snatched by the MP's.” His hands pulled yours away from your dress. 

“I'm so sick of you caring about me.” You spoke as your dress fell to your waist. “Let me fly Levi.” 

He pulled you back toward him as he peppered kisses along your chest- tapering off to the left and bringing your already erect nipple into his mouth. You couldn't help but moan from the feeling of his greedy tongue.

“What are you gonna do for me? ODM gear isn't easy.” He continued to suck your delicate flesh. “Consider the fact that I'm already against teaching you in the first place.”

“Name it.” You spoke softly under your light moans.

The man pulled the towel from his body before he placed his hands under your thighs. He stood up from the chair with you in his arms. You often forgot just how strong he was. He didn’t look like a man who could carry even his own bodyweight, but dammit if he didn’t surprise you every time.

He’d place you on your sewing table and your faces were so close. Not that it wasn’t intimate before, but with his body leaning into yours, it just felt so personal.

Your hand reached for the little ponytail you made for him and pulled away to allow his hair to fall back in place.

“You get on my fucking nerves. You know that?” Levi whispered on your lips.

“Aww.” You’d give his lips a peck, “Tell me no then. I’ll have Furlan teach me.”

His arms grabbed yours, pinning them to the wooden table beneath you- his body looming over yours. “I told him you were off limits.” 

Your heart raced. For a second you could swear you almost felt it swell. He told Furlan you were off limits? How did that conversation go? Levi was staking claim?

“So sensitive.” You grinned, “Tell me no. Say it to my face.”

“Stop being a fucking brat and listen to me.” He backed away a bit as he unbuttoned his vest. It was just a few buttons and then he was on to his shirt. 

You lifted up and your hands helped him undo the bottom buttons on his shirt. “You think I don't know the risk this comes with? Levi, I just wanna be next to you so you don't leave me behind.”

“Leave you and go where?” His eyes were fixed on you in sarcastic disbelief.

“To the surface.” Your fingers reached for his belt, pulling it loose.

“Your manipulation isn't getting better.” His tone sharpened. 

You scoffed, “You're a piece of shit. Just hurry up and fuck me so you can leave.” 

“Such a brat today. I should fuck that little attitude outta ya.” His eyebrows knit as he watched your facial expressions- noticing your slight slip up of excitement as he mentioned being rough with you. “But instead I'll let you take it from here. You wanna learn to fly? Gimmie a good reason.”

“You thought that would stop me?” Your hand reached into his pants and pulled his cock free from its confinement. 

It was slightly above average length and had a pretty nice girth. Blushed pink, adored with a juicy vein that ran up his shaft, and it was ready for you. Strangely pleasing to the eyes. It wasn’t the size of his cock that ever impressed you. It was what he could do with it. You’d never admit it, but you were certain your bodies were made for one another.

You'd take a mental note of his leaky tip glistening with precum as you slowly began to move your hand up and down his length. “I love having control. That's what you don't know.”

His jaw clenched as he almost solely focused on your hand wrapped around his cock. “I've seen you on your back enough times to know you're bullshitting.”

“Put me in my place, Levi, or shut the fuck up for me.” Your lips kissed his neck and down his chest as you continued to lower yourself.

You had no choice but to suck the soul from his body this round. He was so hellbent on you not using this ODM gear. If he thought what you did before was manipulative, then he had no idea what was coming next.

You kept your eyes locked on him, the heat between you was practically crackling like a live wire. Your free hand dragged against his thigh, causing him to shutter just slightly. 

His eyes followed your every motion- like he didn’t want to miss a thing.

You’d pull back the foreskin to reveal just a bit more, your eyes moved down to look at the bead of precum just waiting for you. “Aww, is that for me?”

Your tongue extended and circled around his tip before it collected the salty liquid. He stiffened his posture, and one of his hands found your beautiful hair, his fingers curling just slightly. He was trying his best not to moan, but you heard it. You knew what you were doing to him.

You leaned in once more, dragging your tongue from the base of his cock to the tip in one slow, lingering motion. The ridges beneath your tongue were felt as it moved across his veiny cock.

“ Fuck .” He sighed, almost reluctant to let the words slip his lips. Involuntary if you will.

You’d repeat the motion again. Your mouth then wrapped around him and your tongue pressed flat against the underside of his cock, teasing the edge of foreskin for a moment. You knew it’d get to him. 

Your lips slid lower inch by inch. Your cheeks hollowing as you took him deeper. You made sure to look up at him as you did this. Levi’s breath caught, and his fingers latched harder onto your hair as if to ground himself in the moment. 

“Shit.” He swore once more. 

You didn’t stop until your lips brushed the base of his cock, and when you pulled back, a trail of saliva glistened against his skin in the dim light. You tilted your head slightly as you ran your tongue along him again. 

Your attention shifted lower now. Your lips trailed over the base of his cock until you were met with his balls- nice and swollen just for you. Your tongue ran against the sensitive skin on the left side. You felt him tense under you. He inhaled sharply in the otherwise quiet room.

Your tongue traced him delicately before you took one into your mouth, your hand still stroking him in a steady rhythm. It was then that he gave it to you. Yes, that guttural moan you’d been waiting for paired with his fingers fully tightening in your hair. The warmth of your mouth and the way your tongue moved was almost too much.

You pulled away and released with a pop before you focused on the other side. Your tongue teased and caressed before you took his other testicle in your mouth, sucking lightly. Levi groaned louder this time- surprising you. His head tipped back as he grumbled something incoherent under his breath. 

When you finally moved back to his cock, your lips wrapped around him once more, and he held your hair back. Clearing the way for you as you slowly took him all the way down to the base once again. You worked deep until the tip of his dick made friendly with the back of your throat- your tongue pressing against the underside.

“Fuck. Take it all.” The man before you was becoming more vocal. Always a good sign that you were going to get your way. “Every fucking inch.”

You held strong before pulling back once more and sucking him hard as you pumped. You’d designate your hand to take care of the parts your lips weren’t tending to.

“Just like that. Shit- I’m gonna cum.” His voice strained. “Are you gonna swallow it all?”

You grinned before opening your mouth wide, tongue out ready to take it all.

Levi’s hand moved to his cock. His fingers wrapped tightly around his length as he began to stroke himself. Each motion was firm and unrelenting. His breath grew heavier as one hand still remained in your hair.

He halted, and you watched as his balls tightened. His warm seed coated your tongue, plentiful and thick. You held it there for a moment, savoring the way his body trembled.

“Let me see.” His voice was rough and breathless.

You opened your mouth slightly, showing him the evidence of release before swallowing it all. So fucking nasty of him to make you do that.

He’d lean down and meet your lips with his own. His hand releases from your hair only to cup your face. It was a firm, yet tender kiss. The taste of him lingering between you both. His tongue was teasing and slid against yours for a brief moment.

You smiled so deviously, “Go sit back in that chair. I’m about to exhaust you.”

“You think you’re in charge right now?” He continued to hold your face, now guiding you back up to him.

“Go baby. Take a seat.” Your words were soft, but your tone was so fucking sassy. “You said you wanted me to do all the work, so sit it on down. I’m gonna ride that dick as much as I want. You can’t pretty please the power back. You said you wanted me to take it from here. I got you baby. Sit.”

“You sit.”

“No.”

Famous last words, that no . If there was one thing Levi was good at, it was putting you in your place and reminding you that even when you had the power, it wasn’t real.

In one swift motion, Levi grabbed you roughly, his hands firm but controlled as he lifted you and placed you back onto your sewing table. He didn’t give a shit what you were working on. He was working on you.

“Levi!” You shouted in surprise.

His eyes burned with intensity, and although he was being quite intense, you had no idea about the restraint he was exercising as he handled you. The strength in his grip left no room for doubt- he was entirely in control and he wanted you to feel it.

The hard edge of your table pressed against your thighs, but before you could even react, his hands moved to your legs. He hooked his fingers around the waistline of your brown stockings and yanked them down with a roughness that gave you instant goosebumps.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, his voice low and gravelly.

He kept your legs pressed together, his strength leaving no room for you to move as he pushed your knees up toward your chest. The position forced your back down against the table. His fingers found the edge of your panties, and with a swift motion he moved the fabric aside, exposing you completely.

His pupils dilated at the sight. He loved seeing the physical effect he had on you. “Look at you, so wet already.”

A wave of heat rushed through your body. You couldn’t take it. The way he looked at your most intimate parts. The way he talked about it. Goodness, it was all so overwhelming.

Before you could even form a response, Levi leaned in, his tongue darting out to lick a slow and deliberate stripe against your pussy. The sudden sensation made you gasp and your hands gripped the edge of the table for support.

Levi’s arms anchored you firmly in place, his grip was unyielding as he buried his face between your thighs. The heat of his tongue felt nice as the rough texture of his palms pressed against your skin. 

Your thighs quivered involuntarily, and your fingers tightened their grip on the edge of the table, overwhelming sensations making it impossible to stay still, though he’d see to it that you couldn’t squirm around too much.

His tongue teased and tasted you, savoring every drop of the arousal he caused. He sucked gently on your sweet labia before plunging deeper, his movements were ravenous but calculated.

“So sweet.” He mumbled, his breath warm and tone dripping with satisfaction, “This pussy tastes so fucking good.”

His tongue flicked against your clit, the sensation sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. Your back arched instinctively, a loud moan escaping your lips. Levi didn’t let up. He took your clit fully into his mouth, sucking it with just enough pressure to make your thighs tremble. 

His hand moved to your heat now, and before you could even prepare yourself, he slid his middle and ring fingers inside of you. The stretch of them combined with the relentless attention of his tongue was making you cry out in longing.

He moved his fingers fast, curling them just right to hit that sensitive spot inside you. 

“Fuck! Levi! Please!” You screamed out, breathless.

“Where’d that little attitude go?” He mocked you, his voice muffled by your slick heat. The deep rasp of his words vibrating against you. “Talk to me. Where’s all that vigor?”

His words made your walls tighten in an instant. You hated when he called you out, because your body would always tell him how you felt about it.

“Shut up!” You attempted to sound upset but really it just came out as a shaky moan.

“Oh you liked that?” He continued to tease you. 

“Stop talking!’ You moaned once more, your voice cracking just slightly as your walls clenched even tighter around his fingers.

Levi smirked at your push back, though it wouldn’t help him to ease up on his relentless pace. His fingers thrusted in and out of you while his tongue circled around your clit. Each thrust of his fingers stretched you so good. The ridges of his calloused skin only added to the sensation.

The wet heat of his tongue flicking against your clit sent sharp waves of pleasure up your spine. The rhythmic sounds of his movements combined with your breathless moans filled the air with an intoxicated melody of desire.

Wet, lewd sounds of his movement could be heard. He didn’t stop until he felt you shatter beneath him. Your orgasm washing over you in powerful waves. Your body convulsed, and your breath hitching as he licked and sucked you through your climax- cleaning you with long strokes of the tongue.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistened with your arousal, and his smirk was equal parts smug and satisfied. Without saying a word, he’d now move to sit in that damn chair. It was his way of once again reminding you of who was in charge. If he was going to sit in the chair, it was because he wanted to. Not because you said.

His legs spread, and he’d begin pumping his cock slowly in his hand as his eyes met yours. There was something so sinister in those eyes.

“Come here.” He commanded. “You wanted to exhaust me? Let me see.”

Your heart raced as you slid off the table once more. Your face was flushed. You could not believe the balls on this man. 

You pulled your stockings down the rest of the way along with your panties. You’d leave them on your table. You didn’t need them. Your dress was still bunched around your waist, the high split revealing your legs and the curve of your hips. The fabric framed your exposed breasts, nipples taut and not from the coolness of the air.

Levi’s gaze raked over you before speaking once more. “Now. Get over here.”

You took a step forward, your confidence returning as you swayed your hips. His eyes never left you, the intensity of his stare was powerful. 

You walked over to Levi, your confidence radiating as you reached down and wrapped your hand around his cock. The heat of him pulsed under your fingers, and he exhaled sharply through his nose. His dark eyes locked onto yours as his hands moved to grip your dress, holding it up and out of the way.

You slowly lowered yourself onto him, and the moment the head of his cock pressed into you, Levi let out a low, guttural “Fuck.” His muscles tightening as you took him in, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside of you. 

His chest rose sharply, a shudder running through his body as his hands reflexively tightened on your hips. The tension in his shoulders and the flicker of his eyelids betrayed the effort it took to hold back, his control teetering on the edge. The stretch was intense, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp, your body adjusting to his size.

Levi’s hands gripped your waist tightly, his fingers pressing into your skin. “You’re so fucking tight.” He spoke, his voice rough with desire. “Feels so good when you squeeze me like that.”

Your arms draped around his neck, and you began to move your hips against him. At first, you started slow, rolling your hips in deliberate circles, savoring every inch of him. His cock twitched inside you, and you smirked, knowing the effect you were having on him. 

As you picked up the pace, Levi’s grip on your waist tightened even more, his nails almost digging into your skin.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss was messy and desperate, the heat of his mouth igniting a fire in your core. Your tongues met in a heated tangle, sliding and curling against each other, the taste of him intoxicating. His lips were firm yet pliant, and every movement sent a spark of electricity down your spine, leaving you breathless and craving more. 

You moaned into his mouth as his cock hit that perfect spot inside you, and when you pulled back, a chain of saliva connected your lips. Levi’s eyes darkened as he looked at you, his gaze dropping to where you were joined.

“Fuck yourself on me just like that.” He commanded, his voice low and demanding. “ Don’t stop.”

His words sent a jolt through you, and your walls clenched around him in response. Levi noticed once again, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Your pussy’s gripping me so fucking tight.”

You began to move faster, the sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room. Your arousal coated him, and he groaned as he looked down, watching as you creamed on his cock. 

“Look at that. You’re so wet for me. Fucking perfect.”

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his neck, kissing and biting softly. Your tongue ran along the column of his throat, and you whispered in his ear, “Your cock feels so good, Levi. I love how deep you are inside me.”

His hands tightened on your hips, his breath hitching slightly at your words. You kissed his neck again, sucking lightly to leave a mark. “I want all of your cum inside me.” You whispered, your voice low and sultry. “Fill me up. I want to feel it.”

Levi’s cock twitched inside you, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You want me that much, don’t you?” You teased, running your hands through the hair until you reached the nape of his neck.

His eyes met yours, and the intensity in his gaze made your breath catch. “You’re fucking insufferable.” His tone exasperated but laced with affection. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly against him as he thrust up into you. “But yeah, I want you that much.”

You grinned, gripping the back of his neck. “Then cum inside me, Levi. Give me everything.”

He swore under his breath, his movements becoming erratic as he neared his climax. “I’m gonna cum.” His voice strained.

“I know, baby.” Your hips continue to move against him. “I can feel it. Do it. Fill me up.”

With a deep groan, Levi buried himself inside you, his arms locking around your waist as he held you steady, his breath hitching audibly. The heat of his release spread through you, the sensation almost overwhelming as your body shuddered in response. A low rumble of satisfaction vibrated in his chest. 

The intensity of the moment left your heart pounding, the connection between you palpable in every heavy breath you shared. You could feel his hot cum spilling into you, and the sensation sent a shiver through your body. You rested your forehead against his, your breath coming in short gasps as you both came down from the high.

A teasing grin spread across your face. “You’re not tired yet, are you?”

Levi’s brow furrowed, his expression a mix of disbelief and irritation. “What?”

“Come on.” You leaned in to kiss him softly. “I know you’ve got a few more rounds in you. Don’t tell me you’re already spent.”

He frowned. “If I wanted to fuck your pussy until you couldn’t walk, I would. You know that, right?”

You tilted your head, a playful glint in your eyes. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, his tone dropping an octave. “Don’t test me.”

You started moving your hips again, your grin widening. “It’s okay, Levi. You can just relax. I’ll do everything. Sex with me can be kind of exhausting, I know.”

His grip on you tightened even more, and he let out a low growl. “Keep pushing me, and I’ll show you exactly what happens when you think you’re in charge.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Sure Levi.”

You smirked, rocking your hips teasingly as you leaned into Levi’s ear. “It’s okay that you want me to do everything.” You cooed, laughter lacing your words. “I was planning to exhaust you anyway. I just didn’t think you’d be so tired after round one.”

Levi’s eyes darkened instantly, the playful smirk dropping from his face. His grip tightened suddenly on your waist, and before you could react, he pulled you off his cock entirely, leaving you aching and empty. A whimper of disappointment left your lips, but it was quickly swallowed by a gasp as he lifted you effortlessly, forcing you down onto the chair before flipping your body forward.

Your hands gripped the seat, your breath coming in short pants as he pressed your back down lower. His palm sprawled across the small of your back, keeping you in place, face down, ass up. The position left you completely vulnerable to him, and you could feel the heat of his body hovering just behind you.

“Thought you were in charge, huh?” Levi’s voice was a deep, taunting drawl, his breath warm against your spine. “You really don’t know when to shut that mouth.”

He was so easy to rile up when he was horny. It almost made you laugh, but you knew you couldn’t. If you gave away the fact that you wanted this in any way, he’d make you go back to being in charge- which was fine with you, but you liked it when he fucked you with a little temper.

His hands slid up the backs of your thighs before hiking your dress up over your hips. You could feel the sharp inhale he took as he took in the sight of you, slick and ready, his fingers tracing the sticky evidence of your mixed arousal- spreading you apart to see just how much you needed him.

Your thighs trembled as he leaned in, his lips grazing the curve of your ass before he bit down. His hands tightened on your hips before he pulled back and, without warning, plunged his cock back inside you.

You cried out, gripping the chair as he pressed the head of his dick against you, teasing just for a moment before snapping his hips forward, burying himself inside you all at once. The sudden stretch stole your breath, your fingers digging into the chair as a sharp gasp left your lips, pleasure and intensity crashing over you in an instant. Just deep, hard thrusts that had you gasping with every stroke. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you still as he fucked into you with an unforgiving pace.

“Talk all that shit…” He gritted out between thrusts, “...and now look at you.” His palm came down against your ass in a sharp slap, and you moaned loudly, your walls clenching around him in response.

You couldn’t form words as your body rocked forward with each deep stroke. The force of his thrusts sent jolts of pleasure through you, and your legs began to tremble. One of his hands snaked around you, his fingers circling your clit in rapid motions. The added sensation pushed you over the edge instantly, your body clamping down around him as your orgasm hit you like a wave.

“Fuck—Levi!” Your moans filled the room, your juices spilling down your thighs as your body shook.

But Levi didn’t stop. He fucked you through your orgasm, his fingers never letting up on your sensitive clit. The overstimulation sent your mind spinning, and tears pricked at your eyes as the pleasure bordered on overwhelming.

You turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of him through hazy vision. His face was just as flushed as yours, his brows furrowed in concentration, his lips parted slightly as he breathed heavily. Even through the intensity, even with him in complete control, you could still make him unravel.

Your back arched, pressing yourself further into him, reveling in the way his grip tightened. Your own body moved to meet his thrusts, and he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through your entire being.

“Fuck.” He exhaled, his pace faltering slightly. “Gonna cum—”

You bit your lip, your legs weak as you ground yourself against him. “Do it.” You whispered. “Fill me up again, Levi.”

His movements became erratic, his grip almost bruising as he buried himself deep inside you, a low, moan tearing from his throat as he came. You could feel his release coating your insides once more, hot and thick, so much that some of it was already spilling out of you.

For a moment, you both stayed like that, breathless and shaking. Then, Levi’s grip shifted. One hand slid up your spine before wrapping around your throat, pulling you upright so your back was flush against his chest.

“You gonna keep up that attitude?” He spoke against your ear, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

Your breathing was uneven, your body still trembling, but you managed a small smirk. “I don’t have an attitude.”

Levi chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing your shoulder before sucking hard, leaving a mark. His other hand trailed down, fingers circling your spent clit again, making your breath hitch.

His cock was still buried inside you, still hard, still warm, stretching you perfectly. The heat of him pulsed inside, each subtle movement sending aftershocks of pleasure through your already trembling body. A shudder rolled down your spine as the fullness settled deep, leaving you gasping at the overwhelming sensation of being completely claimed by him. You whimpered at the sensation, the fullness of him making you dizzy.

You reached back, running your fingers through his damp hair, tilting your head slightly to give him better access to your neck. “Are you going to teach me to fly?” You ask, teasingly.

Levi’s lips moved along your throat, his kisses slow and heated, trailing up until his mouth hovered just beside your ear.

“No.” His voice was low, final, sending a shiver down your spine.

And then he rolled his hips into you again. 

You sighed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as you pulled away from Levi, his cock slipping from you. Turning around, you cupped his face and pressed a tender kiss to his lips, your breath warm against his skin as you whispered, "Clearly, rewards don’t work on you, so I’ll just have to find other ways to convince you."

His eyes narrowed slightly, understanding your implication immediately. "You think you can hold out longer than me?" He scoffed, adjusting his pants as he tucked himself away. "You can’t."

"Okay.” You replied simply, smoothing down your dress as if nothing had happened, covering your breasts and shifting the fabric back into place. 

Your hands brushed over your skin lightly, making sure every detail was just right before taking a seat behind your sewing table. When you looked up at him from your seated position, there was a new distance in your eyes. "If you’re not here for business, then you can go. I need to take a bath."

You knew the comment would get under his skin. His fist clenched slightly, but he didn’t take the bait right away. Instead, he exhaled sharply and folded his arms. "You have no idea why you even want to use the ODM gear. You don’t know what it comes with. If you weren’t in the position you’re in, I would teach you. As it stands now, there are too many eyes, and you’ll get yourself killed."

Your hands clasped under your chin as you looked away. "I understand.” Your voice remained velvety as you spoke, “I just don’t care.” 

Levi’s gaze stayed fixed on you, studying you carefully. "And that’s exactly why I’m not teaching you.” His voice was laced with exasperation. "You’re too reckless."

The words stung, but you didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean you were giving up. Instead, you met his eyes again and pushed your chair back. 

"I’m going to go fill the bath." You spoke evenly, standing up. "If you’re still here by the time it’s ready, you can join me."

Levi scoffed, shaking his head. "I knew you couldn’t hold out."

You smirked as you turned toward the stairs. "I’m not having sex with you in the bath." You corrected, glancing at him over your shoulder. "I’m just inviting you to join me—as a comrade."

His eyes flickered with something irritable before he tilted his head slightly. "How many other comrades have joined you in that bath?"

Your smirk widened as you walked away. "Your possessiveness is showing, Levi."

He rolled his eyes, but despite your comment, he followed you upstairs.

Back outside, the gang lounged on the worn stone steps, the dim light of the underground casting long shadows. Wil, Alfie, Klara, and Heinrich. They weren’t the whole gang, but definitely the ones who hung out together the most.

Wil smirked, tossing a small loaf of bread between her hands. "I'll give you the whole damn loaf if you walk in there right now." She teased, nodding toward the shop.

Klara's face twisted in horror. "Absolutely not! No way!" She shook her head violently. "I've already walked in on them once. It was... intense."

Alfie's eyebrows shot up in interest. "Wait, you knew about them this whole time?" His grin widened. "What happened?"

Klara crossed her arms with a grimace. "They're nasty. And I don’t just mean what they do. It’s what they say."

Wil leaned forward eagerly. "Like what?"

Klara made a face, clearing her throat before mimicking in a gruff voice, "‘You like it rough, huh? Say it.’" Then she switched to a breathier tone, "‘Yes, Levi, I love your big-’" She clamped a hand over her mouth, her face flushing deeply. "I’m not doing this."

Alfie let out a sharp laugh, clutching his stomach. "And she had the nerve to act like nothing was going on between them earlier! I knew it!"

Heinrich, who had been leaning against the railing with his arms crossed, let out a heavy sigh. "Why do you guys care about any of this?"

Alfie nudged him with an elbow. "What else are we supposed to talk about?"

Before Heinrich could answer, the sound of boots approaching drew their attention. Eduard strode up, his long dark brown hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck, eyes scanning the group. "Where’s the boss?"

The gang exchanged glances before Wil answered, "She’s inside."

Eduard frowned at their expressions. "You’re all acting weird."

No one said anything as he walked past them toward the door. The group remained silent, waiting, anticipation thick in the air.

A few long moments passed, the silence stretching as the group exchanged knowing glances. Then, finally, the door creaked open again, and Eduard stepped out, his expression unreadable. 

The gang feigned casual disinterest, but the tension cracked as he leveled them with a deadpan look. "Did you guys know she’s fucking Levi? I just saw her in the bath with him."

Laughter erupted instantly. Wil leaned back against the steps, wiping a tear from her eye. "Oh, man."

Eduard scowled. "You guys are pieces of shit. Why would you let me walk in on that?!"

Klara, still red-faced, shook her head. "Let me guess. They didn’t even see you?"

Eduard sighed, running a hand down his face. "No. They didn’t. They were too busy saying—" He hesitated before shaking his head. "Never mind."

Alfie slapped him firmly on the back, grinning. "What do you think we were doing out here?"

As they waited, they began talking, the conversation bouncing between meaningless gossip and their usual banter… That was until Furlan appeared.

"Hey, guys.” He greeted casually. "Your boss around?"

The group tensed. "Uhh," Wil started, stretching the sound as she searched for a believable answer.

Furlan frowned slightly. "Okay, I’m gonna go in and talk to her."

"Don’t!" They all shouted at once.

Furlan blinked. "What? Why?"

Wil, thinking fast, threw out the first thing that came to mind. "She’s taking inventory."

Furlan raised a brow. "She’s taking inventory? That’s literally Alfie’s job."

Alfie, ever the smooth talker, slung an arm around him and steered him away. "You know her. She’s a perfectionist. Said if she sees a single soul enter the shop before she’s ready… well, she’s not gonna be happy. So I’m keeping watch of the door. Anything that can get said to the boss can get said to her right hand first."

Furlan eyed him suspiciously. "Are you being serious?"

Alfie nodded. "I’m being dead serious. Listen, you can go in if you want to-"

“Okay, great.” Furlan advanced toward the door.

“Ah ah ah.” Alfie brought him back in tighter, “I wasn’t finished. You can go in, but you’ll just have to fight me first.”

“What?”

Alfie shrugged, “If I let you in then she’ll kick my ass. So before that happens I’m gonna have to lay you out. I’m not trying to catch heat from the boss.”

Furlan rose an eyebrow, “She’s really taking inventory?”

Wil nodded, “She is really taking inventory, yes.”

Klara made some room on the steps, “You can sit…” Her words faded out as she looked over at Wil shaking her head. “...at home and then we’ll come and get you when she’s done.”

The man sighed exasperated, “Fine. I’ll be back.” He headed down the stairs once more.

Crisis averted. There was no real reason they didn’t let Furlan up. Maybe they were worried about your privacy. Maybe they knew he had a crush on you and didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Whatever the reason was, it all worked out thankfully.

For now it was a waiting game. Heist details couldn’t wait much longer. Oh they were so gonna tease the shit outta you during this next meeting. 

______________________________________________________________ Although feedback is never a right it is always appreciated <3

This was the start of a fic that never took off. I was trying to work around a specific plot, and this just didn't cut it for me. I was trying something new. As a slow burn type of gal, if I start off the first chapter with smut it's very hard for me to push forward because I like to develop bonds through my writing instead of just having an established relationship.

I intentionally left this story open just in case I might throw another chapter in there, but please know this is intended to stand alone.

Want something else to read? Check out my series:

Levi x Reader: Memoirs from a Gilded Cage

[mack-writersblock]

Always in the idea of Emily X Reader. I don't know but I want to see Emily jealous and possessive 👀

-Agnes

You're Mine || E. Prentiss

Summary: Fem!reader realizes how jealous Emily can get after an incident at a bar.

cw: no use of Y/N, creepy man at the bar, reader crying slightly, Emily shoving creepy man into bar, Emily calls reader mine once in jealousy, pet names, barely edited.

Word count: 528

This is a short one but I was running out of ways to make this longer.

₊˚⊹⁠♡————— ⁠♡ —————♡⊹⁠˚₊

It wasn’t all bad dating an FBI agent, she had long odd hours and you were worried all the time when she was gone, but it wasn’t all bad. Like tonight, you were out with Emily and her team after they got back from a case, the bar was relatively empty. It was just you, Emily, her team, and a few regulars there, easing Emily after the case. One that had Emily on edge since the victims looked a lot like you.

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing all alone at a bar like this?” A man pressed his front against your back and you slammed your hand down on the counter, calling the attention of your girlfriend. You swallowed hard, trying not to cry at the feeling of him against you.

“I’m not alone,” you told him, trying to press yourself against the counter even more. Before he had a chance to answer you, he was pulled off and roughly shoved against the counter next to you. You looked over and roughly wiped your eyes when you saw Emily holding the creep down against the bar. You took a glance around the bar, the regulars were watching but didn’t look too concerned about what was happening.

“Leave her alone, you hear me?” Emily threatened the man and he furiously nodded before he was released. He ran off with one last look at you and you looked back at Emily.

“Can we leave?” You were desperately holding back tears and she nodded, gently grabbing your hand and leading you out.

₊˚‧ ︵‿ ꒰ ⏝ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⏝ ꒱ ‿︵ ‧˚₊

“Emily?” You questioned, she had been quiet since the bar. She said nothing as she pulled into the parking spot outside your shared apartment. The walk up to the apartment was just as silent and you started to get a little worried. “Emily?” You asked as you watched her put in the security code after closing the door.

“You’re mine, you know that?” She questioned, it shocked you into silence that made her spin towards you. “I asked a question,” she stared at you and you nodded.

“Yeah, I know, you know that I know that,” you told her, scrunching your eyebrows. “You’re not mad at me, are you?” You watched her face soften at your question.

“No, no, sweetheart, I’m not mad at you,” her voice lost the sharp edge and you realized she was just jealous.

“Are you jealous?” Your voice was still quiet, your words both teasing and a genuine question.

“Possibly a little, but how could I not be when you’re just so beautiful?” Emily stepped to you and pulled you to her, hugging you and cradling your head with her hand. She kissed your head before pulling away.

“Can we watch a movie? And possibly eat the ice cream we have?” You asked, just wanting to forget about what had happened at the bar.

“Anything for you, come on,” she pulled you softly by the arm to the bedroom. “Get in pajamas and I’ll get the ice cream,” she kissed you before leaving to do what she said, leaving you breathless.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Like this story? Here's my masterlist

[wholoveseggs]

Huhu, it's me again :) Happy New Year to you and Eggs. I have another idea once you are through with what must be a very long list <3 - So, Reader and Elijah had a romantic whirlwind encounter while she was extensively traveling Europe, living her best life. They agreed to keep it on a first name basis and on keeping things casual. One morning, she just disappears on him. Back in the US, she is taking up a new job/ studies where she meets Klaus, and they start dating (semi casual). Once he introduces her to his family for Thanksgiving, she sees Elijah again, and whatever happens after is completely up to you :) Thanks in advance.

Serendipitous

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader && Klaus Mikaelson x f!Reader } When your new life in New Orleans collides with the past you tried to outrun, you come face to face with the man you never stopped thinking about. And worse? You are sleeping with his brother.

♡♡ Once again you give me the most brilliant ideas @originals23~ thank you and I hope you enjoy! ♡♡

8.4k words {whoops} - Warnings: so much smut (there are THREE scenes in this one ~lol I may have gone overboard), unprotected sex (I know, I know, vampires can't reproduce... but reader doesn't know they are vampires...) fingering, oral (f!recieving), casual sex with Klaus, little but of angst, lot's of unresolved sexual & emotional tension, reunion sex, semi-public sex, Elijah being intense and possessive in the hottest way, Klaus being a messy but well-meaning && inappropriate use of a side table...

Your arrangement with Elijah was simple. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

You met by chance on a sunny afternoon in Florence, your tables at a café so close your elbows nearly touched. A passing comment about the wine turned into a two-hour conversation about art, history, and the fleeting beauty of life. His voice was velvet, his presence magnetic, and by the time the waiter brought the check, you were hopelessly charmed.

Keeping things uncomplicated was your idea. First names only. No talk of the future. Just two people indulging in the moment. But there was something about Elijah. His poised elegance, the way he made you feel seen. Made sticking to those rules harder every time you saw him.

Tonight was no different. Except for one thing. This was your last night in Europe, and he didn’t know. You hadn’t told him you were leaving and that the version of yourself he had come to know. The carefree traveler. The woman with no roots… she would disappear as soon as the sun rose. A part of you wanted to tell him, but the words caught in your throat every time you thought to speak. You couldn’t bring yourself to ruin the fragile perfection of what you had, even if it was destined to end.

Now, standing outside the door to his suite, you felt that familiar pull, equal parts excitement and dread. The lock clicked, and the door swung open before you could knock. Elijah stood there, immaculately dressed as always, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

“Second thoughts?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Never,” you lied, stepping inside.

The suite was extravagant, warm and rich, but it was his presence that filled the room. He gestured for you to sit, though you barely made it to the sofa before he pulled you into his lap, the contact sending sparks dancing under your skin.

“I was going to ask how your day was,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, “but I know you don’t tolerate small talk.”

“Not when there are better things we could be doing,” you breathed, pulling him in for a kiss.

A soft sigh escaped you as your lips met, his strong hands holding you steady, your heart beating in time with his. You were in freefall, tumbling down the rabbit hole of his affection, and as he deepened the kiss, the last shreds of your resolve fell away.

He was so, damn, crushingly good in bed. He knew how to take his time, to read the smallest shifts in your body and adjust his rhythm. When he touched you, the whole world faded away, until all that was left was the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

You tugged his shirt out of his pants, pulling on the buttons of his vest in an effort to undress him faster. He chuckled, sitting back, watching you fumble.

"I can do it," you muttered, blushing as you undid his buttons, his skin hot under your fingers.

He shrugged off his jacket, and you ran your hands up his arms, across his chest, his muscles firm and taut under his crisp shirt. He was always so impeccably dressed, his clothing clearly expensive and well-made. You’d noticed it from the start, how he carried himself like a man born to luxury, but never flaunting it—just letting it linger in the details. It made you wonder what he did for a living, how did he earn his money? You knew so little about him, yet you were about to have his cock inside you.

You quickly peeled off your dress, watching his reaction as you tossed it aside. You loved how he looked at you. As if you were the only woman in the world, his gaze filled with admiration.

"I like it when you watch me," you admitted softly.

"I'd rather have my hands on you." He replied, running his palm along your thighs, his fingers trailing dangerously high, stopping just short of where you needed him.

You let out a quiet moan, and he chuckled at your response, moving his hands under your hips and picking you up, placing you underneath him on the bed. You watched as he slid his belt from its loops, tossing it onto the floor.

"Can you keep the rest on for now?" you asked, your voice quieter than intended. "You look so good in a suit.”

"As you wish." He grinned as he unbuttoned his pants, freeing his erection, and your heart fluttered. He reached over to the bedside table, retrieving a condom.

"No," you protested, your brain-to-mouth filter long gone. "I want to feel you."

The moment the words left your lips, you knew you had gone too far. The two of you never talked about this. Hell, you didn't even know if he wanted kids. Or had kids. Or birth control. Or anything personal at all. Yet, there was a part of you that didn't care. A reckless, desperate part that wanted to feel him come inside you, to take whatever piece of him he was willing to give.

He studied your face, and you were certain he would tell you no. Any reasonable man would. But then, he dropped the condom and kissed you, a slow, lingering kiss that made you squirm.

"If that's what you want." He murmured, pulling you even closer.

You nodded, clinging to him. Your hips rose to meet him, and his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider, as he slowly entered you.

This was such a bad idea. Having raw sex with a stranger. It was the kind of decision that would've gotten you a stern talking-to from your mother. And yet, you'd never been so turned on in your life.

He moved inside you, a languid roll of his hips, and a whimper escaped you. You wrapped your legs around him, urging him closer. You felt drunk, delirious, overwhelmed by the feeling of his skin against yours, his hard length filling you, stretching you, pushing deeper with each thrust.

It was different this way, more intense, the intimacy heightened. You suddenly regretted asking him to leave his suit on. You wanted more, the need for closeness clawing at your chest. You tugged on his shirt, until he took the hint, leaning back to shed it, his hips still moving, keeping a perfect, maddening, rhythm.

"You don't know what you want today, do you?" he said, his tone playful.

You always enjoyed a bit of dirty talk, but the sound of his voice now. Soothing and authoritative, the slightest edge of teasing… had your head spinning.

"Hush," you chided, trying to regain your composure.

He chuckled, his hands sliding up your sides, his fingers intertwining with yours. "I'm sorry," he said, though he didn't sound sorry at all. "Tell me what you want."

You moaned, the warmth in your belly coiling tighter. The way he held your hands, steady and sure, felt too intimate, too personal. But you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

"Do you want me to go harder?" He leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours, curling into a teasing smile. "Deeper?"

You nodded, closing your eyes as he adjusted his angle, his cock hitting the spot that made your toes curl. You were close, and he seemed to sense it, his hips rocking into you harder, the bed creaking under his weight.

"Do you want me to come inside you?" he whispered, his voice rough, his words sending a fresh wave of desire through you.

It was a foolish, insane, stupid idea, but lord, did you want it. You wanted to feel his release, the heat of him filling you.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his, the intensity of his gaze overwhelming.

"Yes," you breathed, "please."

The look in his eyes changed, as if a switch had flipped, the gentle teasing replaced by something deeper. It was the thing you were both trying to avoid, the emotion lurking just beneath the surface.

He let go of your hands, bracing himself on the mattress, his thrusts slowed, his pace deeper, drawing out the pleasure, the air between you charged, thick with anticipation.

"Say it again," he commanded.

"Please," you moaned. "I need-"

He silenced you with a kiss, your hands moving to his hips, clutching his ass, urging him deeper, faster.

He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin, his thrusts growing uneven.

"Please," you whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair, "come inside me."

A groan escaped him, and his body stilled, the feeling of him pulsing inside you making your whole body tense, a white-hot pleasure surging through you as you both came undone, clinging to each other as if the world would fall away without the other to anchor you.

He collapsed next to you, and you curled against him, resting your head on his chest, his heart beating fast and strong under your cheek.

You weren’t sure what this was, the two of you tangled together, basking in the afterglow. He wasn’t usually a cuddler. In fact, he’d never asked you to stay the night. Yet, here he was, running his fingers through your hair, his arms around you, holding you close.

You could hear the traffic outside, the bustle of the city. It felt surreal, as if you were watching yourself from above. The woman who’d begged him to come inside her, who craved his touch, wasn’t you. She was a stranger. A shadow of the person you pretended to be.

The thought sent a jolt through your chest, and you pulled away, sitting up and reaching for your clothes.

“It’s getting late,” you said. “I should-”

“Stay,” he said softly, his hand trailing slowly down your back. His voice was quieter than you had ever heard it, almost hesitant, and the word stuck in your chest like a splinter.

Your eyes darted toward the door, the urge to flee overwhelming. What the hell were you thinking? Reckless. Stupid. You’d never planned for this to go so far, to feel so real. Yet, when his hand slid down your back, the warmth of his touch anchored you, quieting the chaos in your mind.

You found yourself nodding, cuddling back against his chest, as if the heat of his embrace could fix everything.

“Just for a little while,” you said, trying to quiet the voice in your head.

“Mmm,” he murmured, and you could feel him smiling against your hair.

The sun had set, the sky turning a dusky purple, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the buildings below. And the two of you had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, feeling safe, content, and hopelessly in love.

The first rays of dawn spilled through the windows, painting the room in soft hues of gold and pink. Elijah lay beside you, his features softened in sleep, one arm draped possessively across your waist.

You had been watching him for a while, a bit of a creepy thing to do, but he was just so handsome, even with his hair disheveled. You let your mind wander, imagining him being yours, waking up next to him every day, sharing meals and adventures. You wondered what his favorite color was, if he liked cats, his thoughts on politics. All those small details that would help bring him to life.

You also wondered what his life was like, who his family was. Maybe he was married? Cheating on his wife with you? The thought was a cold splash of reality. Of course, he was probably married. A man like him would never be single.

You sighed, running your fingers through his hair. This was such a mistake. You didn't know a damn thing about him, yet, here you were, fantasizing about a future together.

Carefully, you slipped out from under his arm, your heart aching with every movement. You dressed in silence, the weight of what you were about to do pressing down on you. Standing at the door, you glanced back at him, your chest tightening at the sight of him sleeping so peacefully.

You wanted to stay. You wanted to whisper the truth, that he was like something out of a dream. But you couldn’t. Because dreams didn't last. They didn't have roots. And you had a life to get back to.

So, instead, you turned and walked out the door, not letting yourself look back.

The New Orleans heat was relentless, thick with humidity, wrapping around you like a second skin. The streets buzzed with music and conversation, and even after months of living here, the city's energy still caught you off guard. It was a stark contrast to Europe, where everything felt steeped in quiet history. Here, everything moved fast. Loud, unpredictable, alive.

You had built a life here, found a job you actually enjoyed, and for the first time in a long time, things felt normal. A fresh start. And yet, no matter how far you ran, how many new routines you built, the ghost of the mysterious Elijah  still lurked in the quiet moments. Not often. Not intentionally. But in the space between thoughts, his presence would slip in. His hands, his voice, the way he had looked at you…

You didn’t dwell on it…

Or at least, you told yourself you didn’t…

Instead, you threw yourself into your new life. And a big part of that life was Klaus.

Not in a romantic, sweep-you-off-your-feet way. That would be a disaster, and you knew better. Klaus wasn’t a boyfriend, he was more of… a friendly force in your life. Someone you got drinks with, argued with, occasionally rolled around in bed with. He was charming in a way that made people want to orbit around him, and somehow, you had ended up in that orbit.

You met him at an art gallery downtown, where he had been swirling a glass of red wine and smirking at a particularly ugly modern piece like it had personally offended him. You had made some offhanded joke about abstract art being a scam, and he had laughed, a sharp, knowing laugh, like he was having the exact same thought.

After that, he had a way of showing up. Inviting you out, dragging you into conversations about history and art over whiskey, introducing you to the chaotic energy of the city’s nightlife. You got along. He was fun. He had a mean streak, but you knew how to handle men like that. It was easy.

And maybe, if things were different, you would’ve let something more happen between you. But you both understood what this was…Just company, just passing time. Just a friendly hookup until real love came along… If it ever did.

The soft breeze drifting through the open window did little to cool the heavy heat of the room. The sheets were a tangled mess, kicked aside during the night’s events, and beside you, Klaus lay sprawled out, one arm thrown over his face, his body lazy and sated.

You stretched, the slow ache between your thighs a familiar, satisfying reminder of last night. It hadn’t been anything deep or meaningful, just fun. Easy. No expectations, no promises.

Klaus was good company, someone who understood the unspoken rules of this arrangement: pleasure, no strings. He was charming, sure. Attractive, obviously. But you both knew what this was.

As if sensing your eyes on him, he stirred, his hand sliding absently across your stomach. “Mmm, already awake?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“Fortunately, for you,” You smirked, shifting to straddle his hips, your palms pressing against his chest.

He grinned, eyes still heavy-lidded. “Eager thing, aren’t you?”

“Only because you’re so damn easy.” You dragged your nails lightly down his torso, reveling in the way he tensed beneath you.

Klaus chuckled, but it turned into a low groan as you rocked against him, teasing. His hands settled on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to let you know he enjoyed it.

“If you’re going to keep teasing, love,” he murmured, voice rough, “you better be prepared to finish what you started.”

“I always finish what I start.” You reached for the bedside drawer, rolling on a condom before sinking down onto him, the feeling of your bodies connecting making you both exhale.

The rhythm was familiar, something you both knew well by now. You took what you needed, moved together in a way that was more about chasing pleasure than anything sentimental. Klaus let you take control, his hands gripping your thighs, guiding your movements but never demanding.

It was good. The kind of effortless chemistry that kept you coming back to him.

But then. It happened.

One second, it was Klaus beneath you, his sharp smirk, his blue eyes watching you with hunger.

And then. The stranger that you couldn't get out of your mind. Elijah.

His face flickered into focus like a mirage, his dark eyes holding you in that way that had once made your breath catch.

You froze, a jolt of panic hitting your system like ice water.

No. No.

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you blinked hard, trying to shake it. When you opened your eyes again. Klaus. Just Klaus. Watching you with mild confusion.

"Are you okay? Do you want to stop?"

"N-no."

"Are you sure? We don't have to keep going if-"

"No. Just give me a minute," you said, swallowing the knot in your throat, your mind scrambling.

This had never happened before. Never. But there it was. An image of him burned into your memory, overlaying Klaus, taking the place of your reality.

Klaus halted your hips and sat up, his brows knitting with concern. "You're trembling."

"Sorry." You shook your head, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, though it felt like your whole world was shattering. "Just... got distracted."

"By?" He was giving you a look, somewhere between concerned and amused, his curiosity obvious.

You sighed. He was going to push this.

"Promise you won't get weird about it?"

"Of course not, love."

You swallowed, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"Someone else."

Klaus chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound. "Don't tell me, the thought of me alone isn't enough to satisfy? That will hurt my ego."

"Don't be ridiculous." You rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to squirm. "It's not about you. It's... an old fling."

"Oh?" His expression shifted, his tone more serious.

"Yeah, someone from when I was traveling. Just... popped into my head, that's all." You shrugged, a feeble attempt to make it seem unimportant.

"I see," He studied your face, his gaze unnervingly steady.

You braced for him to ask more questions, maybe to get jealous or offended, but instead, he flipped you onto your back, a wicked grin on his face.

"I guess I must not be doing my job correctly," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the spot on your neck that always made your toes curl. "I think we can remedy that."

He was a bit rougher with you this time, a bit less playful, his movements filled with a purpose. Like a challenge. He wanted to keep your mind from wandering. And, hell, it worked for a while. The way he was kissing you, moving inside you, touching you, it was so intense. So present.

You moaned, tangling your fingers in his hair, and he pulled away, his gaze searching.

"Is that good?" he asked, his voice softer than usual, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Yeah," you breathed. "Very."

His hips picked up their pace, his lips hot on your skin, the tension building inside you with each thrust.

You came undone, Klaus following not long after, collapsing onto the mattress beside you, his breathing ragged.

"Still thinking about that old fling?"

You chuckled, swatting his shoulder. "Shut up. Don't be jealous,"

"Me? Never."

You sighed, glancing at the clock. "I need to get ready for work,"

Klaus shrugged, rolling out of bed, stretching, and pulling on his clothes. You watched him, the way he moved, the confidence he exuded.

He was handsome, of course. He was the kind of guy you'd notice immediately, his features chiseled and striking, the perfect amount of scruff. But it wasn't just that. There was something else. A certain... charisma. A presence that made you feel as if he could command a room, the whole city, without even trying.

"Are you coming out tonight?"

"Hmm?" You blinked, his question catching you off guard.

"Tonight, to the dinner party." He cocked his head, looking at you expectantly. "Unless, of course, you've decided to spend your evening pining after someone who isn't here."

"Oh. Yeah, sure."

"Well, don't sound too enthusiastic, love."

You laughed, swatting his arm. "Stop, you know I'm going. I'm actually looking forward to meeting your siblings, mostly to get dirt on you."

"That's a dangerous game, darling." He smirked, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "But, if it makes you happy, I'll see you tonight."

"See you."

He gave you one last grin, the door clicking softly as he left.

You flopped back against the pillows, letting out a shaky breath. Trying to erase a specific pair of haunting brown eyes from your memory. You weren't the type to be hung up on anyone, especially a stranger you hooked up with months ago. Yet, here you were, feeling like an absolute idiot.

You shook your head, getting out of bed, ignoring the way your legs trembled.

This was stupid. A minor setback.

You would move on.

You had to move on.

Right?

You knew Klaus was rich. But you were aware just how insanely wealthy he truly was. It was something that should've been obvious, considering the way Klaus threw around his money, but seeing his ridiculously lavish compound in person was a completely different experience.

The place was huge, sprawling, elegant in a way that only an ancient estate could be. The architecture was stunning, and you were fairly certain the entry hall alone was the size of your apartment.

"You live here?" You glanced over at Klaus, taking in his nonchalant expression.

He nodded, "It's not too shabby, is it?"

You laughed, "Not too shabby? This is insane."

You took in the artwork hanging on the walls, the ornate furniture, and the grand staircase that seemed to stretch on forever. It was the kind of place people only saw on tv. You felt underdressed, almost as if you had stepped into some kind of dream.

"Come, the food is almost ready, and I want to introduce you to my family."

Klaus led you through the winding halls and corridors, until you finally reached a large dining room. There was a massive table, laden with food, and sitting around it were a dozen or so people, chatting and laughing.

Klaus cleared his throat, catching the attention of the room. "Everyone, this is Y/N, my... friend."

A chorus of greetings echoed through the room, and Klaus gestured to a particularly attractive group sitting at the far end of the table.

"These are my siblings, Rebekah, Kol, and Elijah."

You froze, the blood draining from your face as they turned to face you.

It was him.

The man you had been trying so hard to forget, the one whose presence had taken over your life. The same dark eyes, the same gentle smile, the same strong, capable hands. Those hands.

The memories hit you in a dizzying wave. The feeling of his skin, the taste of his lips, the way he held you, the way he looked at you, memorizing every detail.

Elijah was a ghost. A shadow. Someone you would never see again.

Until now.

His face paled, his expression mirroring your own shock. The two of you stood there, staring at each other, the rest of the room falling away.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your mind reeling. How? How the fuck was he here? Was this a dream? Some cruel joke the universe was playing?

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, unable to find the words.

The silence stretched on, growing heavier and heavier, until Klaus finally cleared his throat, breaking the spell.

"Sit, please. I have more guests coming soon."

You sank into a chair next to you Elijah, your hands visibly trembling. This was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare.

Klaus walked away to greet some more guests, leaving you with his siblings. You snuck a glance at Elijah, taking in his stiff posture, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him.

The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. You couldn't bear it, the weight of the silence, the way his presence was overwhelming, intoxicating.

"Y/n, that's a lovely name. How did you meet our brother?" Rebekah asked, her voice slicing through the silence like a knife.

You blinked, struggling to compose yourself. "We met at a gallery. I was, um, critiquing some of the art, and he agreed."

Rebekah chuckled, "Sounds like Klaus."

Elijah remained silent, his expression unreadable. Rebekah gave him a strange look, then turned her attention back to you.

"How long have the two of you been together?" she asked.

"Oh, we're not. Together. We're just friends." You managed a small laugh, trying to hide the panic in your voice.

"Klaus? Friends? Impossible," Kol interjected, his tone teasing.

"Well, we're friendly," you said, avoiding the subject entirely.

A waiter came by and filled your wine glass, and you thanked him, downing half the glass in one go. The alcohol was a welcome distraction, burning a warm path down your throat.

"How are you liking New Orleans?" Rebekah asked, her tone a little more casual.

"It's amazing, honestly. The energy here is unlike anything I've ever experienced. The people, the music, the history." You paused, the corner of your mouth lifting into a small smile. "I can see why people fall in love with this city."

Rebekah smiled, "It does have its charms."

Klaus returned, settling into his seat beside you, his hand resting on the back of your chair.

"So, what have you been discussing?"

"Oh, just the usual. How we're all shocked you've found a friend," Kol said.

Klaus snorted, "Hardly. I have plenty of friends."

"Yes, but they're not usually women," Kol retorted.

"That's not true Kol, he also has Cami," Rebekah chimed in.

Klaus removed his hand from the back of your chair, his cheeks growing slightly pink. He looked down, busying himself with filling his plate, his posture defensive.

Kol let out a laugh and pointed down to the other end of the table. "What's wrong Nik, don't want her to hear?"

You followed his gaze, landing on a pretty blonde who was chatting animatedly with some of the other guests.

"You didn't tell us Camille was coming," Rebekah said.

"It didn't seem important," Klaus muttered, not meeting anyone's eyes.

You had no idea who this girl was, but clearly, Klaus had a thing for her. You could practically feel the awkward tension radiating off him.

He was sweet, but a little rough around the edges. It made sense that he'd be a bit of a mess when it came to his love life.

You couldn't help but smile at that.

"She's beautiful," you said sincerely, nudging him playfully.

Klaus sighed, finally meeting your gaze. "You think?"

"Definitely." You paused, watching his face soften a little. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

Klaus shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. "You're not supposed to encourage me, love."

"Why not? Isn't that what friends do?" You grinned.

His eyes narrowed, his expression playful as he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. "If I'm with her I'm not with you. Where would that leave us, hmm?"

Before you could respond, Elijah abruptly stood, his chair scraping against the floor. "Excuse me."

All of you watched him walk out of the room, his sudden departure startling everyone.

"Is he alright?" Rebekah asked, her tone worried.

Kol shrugged. "He's been in a mood lately."

"You know how fussy he can get about dinner parties," Klaus said, his tone dismissive.

The rest of the dinner was a blur. You tried your best to engage in conversation, but the weight of Elijah's presence was suffocating, drowning out the noise. He had returned halfway through the meal, his expression stony, his movements stiff and calculated. He didn't look at you, not once, but you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and intense, every time he thought no one was paying attention.

Klaus had taken your advice and made a point to speak with Cami, his body language betraying how flustered he was. He was trying so hard, and it was equal parts amusing and heartwarming.

It was almost enough to distract you from the fact that Elijah was in the same room.

Almost.

As the meal came to an end, the crowd started to thin, people milling about the room, talking and laughing.

Klaus was engrossed in conversation with Cami, his eyes never leaving her face. You smiled to yourself, happy to see him making progress.

You scanned the room, noticing that Elijah was nowhere in sight. Without thinking, you excused yourself, walking through the grand hallways, searching.

You didn't know what you were looking for, or why. But the thought of him being so close, yet out of reach, was too much to bear.

The house was enormous, and as you wandered the hallways, you realized just how impossible it would be to find him. You went up a few floors, finding rooms filled with more art, more artifacts, more history. It was mesmerizing, a window into a world you had never experienced.

Finally, you reached a hallway lined with bedrooms, each one as opulent as the last. You were about to turn around and head back downstairs when a door opened, and Elijah stepped out, freezing as soon as he saw you.

A long silence stretched between the two of you, the air thick with tension.

He was even more handsome than you remembered, his dark hair slightly disheveled, his face flushed. He looked upset, his jaw clenched, his posture stiff.

You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to run. To flee and never look back. But you couldn't. Something in his expression kept you rooted in place.

"Hi," you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Hello," he replied, his voice smooth, but laced with an emotion you couldn't quite identify.

"I'm, um, sorry to bother you. I was just... looking for the bathroom." You winced, realizing how flimsy the excuse was.

"Right." His eyes searched your face, his brow furrowing.

"Sorry," you repeated, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

"There's no need to apologize," he said, his expression softening a little. "I'm sure this is all... unexpected."

"Yeah, it is," you breathed.

Another tense silence passed between the two of you. Elijah looked conflicted, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn't decipher.

"You didn't tell me you had a brother," you said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

Elijah's eyes narrowed, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "We didn't exactly do a lot of talking about our personal lives,"

Your face burned. "Right, yeah. Sorry, I wasn't... trying to accuse you of anything," you stammered.

Elijah sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No, I'm sorry… That was a poor choice of words."

You nodded, chewing on your lip. The two of you were both obviously uncomfortable.

"Look, I... I don't know what to say, really. This is... weird. Like, insanely weird," you said.

Elijah laughed, a sound that was a mix of relief and nervousness. "Agreed."

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves. "I... honestly didn't think I would ever see you again."

"I didn't either."

"And now..."

"And now."

You hesitated, your heart thumping in your chest as you took a tentative step forward. "What are the odds, huh?"

"Quite low, I imagine."

You laughed, a soft, breathless sound. "I guess the universe had other plans."

Elijah's expression shifted, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his mask. He looked conflicted, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't bring himself to.

Instead he took a deep breath, his voice softer, gentler, "I'm glad you're doing well,"

"You too," you managed, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him, to close the distance between the two of you.

"I should probably get back," you said, not really wanting to.

"Of course," he murmured, not moving away from you, his gaze intense.

You lingered for a moment, neither of you willing to break eye contact. It was strange, surreal. A feeling you couldn't put into words. It pulled you in, and before you knew it, you were moving towards him, drawn by some invisible force.

His hand came up, wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. His lips met yours, soft, but urgent, and you melted into him, the familiarity of his touch making your heart ache.

You weren't sure how long you stood there, kissing him, holding him, your hands tangled in his hair, his body pressed against yours. It was like no time had passed, the two of you falling back into the same pattern, the same rhythm.

He guided you backwards until you hit a side table, your back pressing against the polished wood. He lifted you, his lips never leaving yours as he sat you on the edge, his body caging you in.

His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress up, his eyes darkening as his fingers brushed the lace of your underwear.

You pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes, your hands grasping the front of his shirt, needing to feel the warmth of his skin, the beating of his heart.

"I haven't been able to get you out of my mind," he murmured, kissing down your neck.

"Me neither," you admitted, a small moan escaping your lips as his teeth grazed your collarbone.

He lifted your thighs, planting your feet on the edge of the table, spreading your legs wide, his hips pressed flush against yours.

You could feel the hardness of him, the proof of his desire for you, and it sent a wave of heat straight through your core.

You wanted him. Badly. More than you could ever remember wanting anything.

"We shouldn't do this here," you breathed, his lips tracing the shell of your ear.

"I don't care," he whispered, his fingers tugging at the hem of your dress, sliding the fabric up to your hips.

"Someone might see."

"Good," he said softly, his lips curling into a smirk, just inches from yours. "Let them see."

You gasped, arching your back as his fingers found the wetness between your legs, his movements slow and deliberate, teasing you. He slowly circled your clit, drawing lazy patterns, his gaze fixed on your face, taking in every detail, every reaction.

You tugged on his shirt, trying to anchor yourself, to keep from getting swept away. Your heart was hammering, the heat building in your core, the anticipation making you dizzy.

He pushed a finger inside you, then another, his movements firm and steady, his thumb circling your clit. He was taking his time, drawing it out, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze filled with something raw and intense.

It was that same feeling as before, the one that made you do things you wouldn't normally do. The one that made you feel alive.

Your legs trembled, your body trembling as he brought you to the edge, only to pull back. His fingers teased your entrance, before sinking deep inside you, curling and hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

"Fuck," you gasped, gripping his shoulders, trying desperately to hold on.

He grinned and moved to his knees, his eyes locking on yours, and it was almost too much. The sight of him, kneeling before you, his dark gaze burning into yours, his fingers still buried inside you.

He pulled his fingers from your core, the emptiness almost unbearable, and his tongue flicked over your clit. You cried out, a strangled, broken sound, and he chuckled, the vibrations making your toes curl.

He licked and sucked and teased, his movements perfectly measured, knowing exactly what to do, where to touch. He devoured you, his lips and tongue working in tandem, his fingers sinking back into you, stretching you open, filling you.

You felt yourself hurtling towards the edge, the pressure building, your legs shaking, your fingers tangled in his hair. He looked up at you, his eyes blazing with a mixture of desire and hunger, and it was all too much.

You came, your vision whiting out, his name a strangled cry on your lips. He kept going, working you through the aftershocks, his touch gentle, coaxing, until finally, he stopped, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice hoarse.

He stood, and you caught a glimpse of the bulge straining against his trousers, before he leaned down, his lips meeting yours, the taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.

He kissed you, deep and slow, and you felt the loss of his touch acutely, the emptiness inside you almost unbearable. You reached for him, fumbling with his belt, desperate to feel him, to have him inside you.

"I can't believe we are doing this," you muttered, laughing nervously as his zipper came down. "Again," you added, the word barely a whisper.

"Neither can I," he admitted, a small, wry smile on his lips.

"This is insane."

"I'm well aware."

You slipped your hand inside his trousers, the feel of his bare skin against yours sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your core. He let out a soft groan, his hips pressing against yours, his body urging you on.

"Don't get me pregnant," you half joked, your voice a strained whisper.

He laughed, the sound rich and deep, the warmth of his breath fanning across your cheek.

"I won't."

You tugged at his trousers, pulling them down just enough to free him. His cock sprang free, hard and throbbing, and you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, stroking him slowly, the velvety skin sliding under your palm.

He pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you, his lips brushing yours.

"Do it," you breathed, the need coursing through your veins.

He thrust forward, filling you completely, his fingers digging into your thighs. You moaned, the feeling of him inside you, stretching you, consuming you.

He set a slow, deliberate pace, trying not to cause the table to creak and rock. It was sensual and maddening, the feeling of his cock easing in and out of you, his breathing ragged, his hands holding onto you for dear life.

The pleasure was overwhelming, your body tightening around him, drawing him in, trying to keep him there. He pressed his forehead to yours, his lips grazing your jaw, his hips snapping into yours, harder and faster, the filthy sounds of your bodies colliding echoing through the empty hall.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and labored, his hands moving down your back and under your ass, pulling you flush against him.

Your fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, your eyes squeezed shut, your entire world focused on the feel of him inside you.

It was like nothing else mattered, nothing existed except the two of you, joined together in the most intimate way.

He held you, his movements growing more frantic, his thrusts uneven and jerky, and you could feel him coming apart. He bit down on your shoulder, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled his release.

The two of you stayed like that, awkwardly settled on the table, trying to catch your breath, to come down from the high.

After a moment, he straightened, tucking himself back into his trousers and running a hand through his hair, his cheeks flushed.

"That was..." he trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Intense," you offered, as he helped you stand.

"Indeed," he murmured, a small, satisfied smile on his lips.

He pulled you in for another kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair, his lips soft and warm. You melted into him, losing yourself in the feeling of his body against yours.

After a long moment, he pulled back, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn't decipher. He cleared his throat, the moment breaking, the reality of the situation crashing down around you.

"Well, I should... um, get back," you said, the words hanging in the air, awkward and stilted. "Before anyone notices we're gone,"

"No need, we all heard you two," Klaus' voice echoed through the hall, startling you both.

You turned to see him leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, a smug grin on his face.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you hastily fixed your dress, Elijah stepped in front of you, blocking the sight from his brother.

Klaus let out a laugh, "oh no need for all that Elijah, it's nothing I haven't seen before," he drawled.

"What are you doing here?" Elijah demanded, his tone laced with annoyance.

"Well, I was looking for my Y/n. You wandered off and then I heard these distressing sounds coming from the hallway. So naturally, I came to investigate," he paused, his eyes roaming over your body, his gaze filled with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "And here you are,"

"I, uh, got lost," you offered weakly, still a little stunned.

"In his pants?" Klaus smirked, his gaze traveling between the two of you.

You were speechless, not quite sure what to say. It was humiliating, being caught like this, exposed and vulnerable. There were clearly a lot of complicated feelings between the two of them, things that had nothing to do with you.

Elijah wrapped his arm around your waist, it surprised you, the way he pulled you against him, as if he was claiming you. You glanced up at him, the look on his face unreadable. He seemed unfazed by Klaus' accusation, his expression carefully neutral.

"If you must know, we ran into each other," Elijah said evenly, his hand stroking the small of your back. "We know each other from... Another city."

"Oh, really? How serendipitous," Klaus replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, it is," Elijah said simply, his posture relaxed.

Klaus shook his head, his eyes darting between the two of you, the realization slowly dawning on him. "Wait... That hook-up you were telling me about? The old fling you couldn't get out of your head? That's... Elijah?"

You nodded, your cheeks burning so hot they could melt ice.

Klaus began to laugh, a deep, genuine belly laugh. He wiped at his eyes, his whole body shaking with amusement. "This is too much. This is... I don't even know what to say."

Elijah sighed, his jaw clenched, but his eyes amused. "I would prefer it if you didn't say anything."

"Oh, come on, this is funny," Klaus said, taking a step closer. "You're the reason she was all hung up and miserable,"

"Miserable?" Elijah frowned, glancing down at you.

"Klaus, stop," you pleaded, the humiliation making your chest ache.

"What?" He shrugged. "I'm just stating facts. You were a mess because of him."

Elijah's eyes searched yours, his expression conflicted. His hand was still on the small of your back, and he rubbed it in small, soothing circles.

"Niklaus, if you don't mind, I wish to have a private conversation with her," Elijah said, his tone firm.

"Alright, fine, but do try to keep it down, hmm? We have guests," Klaus winked at the two of you, turning on his heel and heading down the hallway.

You watched him walk away, then you leaned up and kissed Elijah on the cheek. "I'll be right back, okay?"

He nodded, his gaze following you as you walked down the hallway after Klaus.

"Nik!" You called, catching up to him.

"Yes, love?"

"Look, I'm sorry," you said, trying to gauge his reaction.

"For what?" He looked genuinely confused.

"For... sleeping with Elijah," you said, a little unsure.

Klaus laughed, his expression light and teasing. "We were never going to work out, love. Our hearts belong to others,"

"I know," you shrugged. “But still... He's your brother,"

"And you love him," Klaus said simply, a small, knowing smile on his lips.

"What? No, I... I don't even know him, not really," you protested.

"You will, and he'll love you, too," Klaus said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

"It doesn't matter. It was just... sex," you tried to explain.

"Was it, though?"

"Yes," you insisted, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head, the one that knew he was right.

Klaus shook his head, his gaze softening a little. He pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close.

"Listen, it's none of my business. But if there's something between the two of you, some spark or whatever... Don't let it go. Life's too short for regrets,"

You pulled back, looking up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "Thank you, Nik,"

"Of course," he replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "And do try to be a bit more discreet, hmm? You two aren't exactly quiet."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, trying to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. "I'll try."

He laughed, and then headed back downstairs to rejoin the party. Off to find Cami, no doubt.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way back to Elijah, his eyes fixed on you, an intensity in his gaze that made your heart race.

You reached out, taking his hand, his fingers lacing with yours, and he led you to his room, the door closing softly behind the two of you.

You stood in the middle of his bedroom, the air thick with tension, everything was happening so fast.

"So," he began, his voice low and soft.

"So," you echoed, a nervous smile tugging at your lips.

Elijah exhaled, slow and measured, but there was no hiding the tension in his posture. “Are you going to run again?”

The question hung between you, weighted with more than just tonight.

You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching at your sides. You owed him the truth.

“Elijah…” You took a step closer, your voice unsteady. “I ran because I was scared.”

His jaw clenched slightly, but he stayed silent, letting you speak.

“I told myself that what we had was casual. That it didn’t mean anything. But then you started looking at me like I was something more.” Your throat tightened. “Like I mattered. And that scared the hell out of me.”

His expression softened, just a fraction, but his silence pressed against you like a weight.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep going. “I didn’t know how to handle the way you made me feel.” Your voice was quieter now, raw. “I thought if I ran, I could outrun it. But I didn’t. I never did. Because no matter where I went, no matter what I did, you were always there.”

A beat passed. Then two. And then his hand was cupping your cheek, his eyes searching yours.

“And now?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And now…” You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m standing here. With you. And I don’t want to run anymore.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle but firm. “Good,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Because I’m not letting you go this time.”

You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as his lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate. It was a promise, a commitment, a declaration of everything you’d both been too afraid to say.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Stay,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Not just tonight. Always.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Always,” you echoed, your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

You kissed him again, slow and sweet, the familiar taste of him flooding your senses. He was everything you'd been missing, everything you'd needed. There was so much more left to say, but it would have to wait. In this moment, there was only the two of you, tangled together, a promise of something more. This was where you were meant to be, you were sure of it.

~Epilogue

The first thing you registered was warmth. The kind that seeped into your bones, wrapped around you like a quiet reassurance. You stirred, blinking against the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains. The sheets were tangled around your legs, the scent of him lingering in the fabric.

Elijah's arm was draped over your waist, his breathing deep and steady against the back of your neck. The weight of him, the solid presence at your side, was grounding in a way you hadn’t expected. You hadn’t realized how much you missed waking up with someone... not just anyone, but him.

For a moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Because this felt… real. Permanent.

And for the first time in a long time, the thought didn’t terrify you.

You shifted slightly, your fingers ghosting over his forearm where it rested against your stomach. He stirred behind you, his grip instinctively tightening, pulling you closer.

“Second thoughts?” His voice was husky with sleep, laced with quiet amusement.

You smiled, a warm flush spreading through you.

"Not a single one," you murmured, turning in his arms, your gaze meeting his.

"Good," he murmured, his hand sliding up your back, pulling you flush against him.

It felt... Right. Like you'd always belonged here, in his bed, his arms. Like he'd always been the one, waiting for you.

There was no more running.

No more fear.

Just this.

Just him.

[writingisart-yes]

Game #3- Second Degree Theft

Game 1 Game 2 Game 3 Game 3.5

I changed my mind about Charlie intervening. I think we need some more interactions before that. Next chapter for sure though

I had to get back at Alastor for that last prank, and I did match him with it. I wasn’t planning on stealing his radio staff, it just popped into my head. Practically second-degree theft. Lucky I even managed to pull it off—Alastor is almost always attached to that thing.

Alastor was preoccupied with Charlie, and he placed his staff against a nearby table. I saw it—saw the potential—and snatched it up. I slipped away unnoticed and hid it well

His expression was gold when I came back down. With Charlie already gone, I couldn’t help but smirk as I threw his words back at him. “Oh dear! Losing things, are we? How terribly inconvenient!”

He narrowed his eyes on me and I could feel the irritation. His voice popped and crackled with radio static. “Now, what a clever one you are.” He laughed menacingly. “I suggest you give it back before you regret it.”

Not going to lie I was a little scared as I saw the predatory gleam in his eye, but instead of acting like a normal person and giving it back, I pulled the same shit he did.

I teleported it into my hand and pretended to give it to him, but with a flick of my wrist it flew into the air and vanished. “Oh, I’m sorry. That didn’t seem to work,” I said my voice dripping with honey.

“If you don’t hand it over, I’ll broadcast your screams like I have with every other disrespectful wretch who dared to cross me.” He said his eyes flashing into radio dials.

“But how would you ever get your precious staff back” I cooed, tilting my head. “I doubt you would ever be able to find it.”

“Oh, I assure you, my dear, I can, and I will.” He answered his voice snapping with static

Suddenly he gripped my cheeks in between his fingers. “But I will enjoy doling out your punishment.” My breath hitched. His voice—had it dropped an octave? I couldn’t be sure, but something about it sent a shiver down my spine.

I wrenched his hands away from my face. “Firstly, don’t touch me. Second, why don’t we make a deal?” I glared.

“A deal?” He asked. “What do you propose, though I have to say you’re not in the position to be bargaining.” He hummed in amusement as if the thought of me having anything worthwhile to him was ridiculous.

I mean it was, but it still ignited a fire within me. I suppose that’s why I summoned his staff and began twirling it around my fingers like it was a pen. Not only that, but I noticed his gaze landed on my hand or perhaps his staff. Doesn’t matter—as long as I’m taunting him.

“I want a truce. How about I give you back your radio staff, and then we don’t go after each other’s personal, sentimental possessions.”

“What sort of penalty if you break the truce?” He asked, the amusement still coating his voice.

“Whoever breaks the truce buys whatever the other wants, or does whatever they ask. No limits.” I smirked.

“I suppose that’s fair.” He extended a hand. “So it’s a deal?” he asked, green particles of power flickering around him.

I shook his hand, my own yellow particles combating against his. “Deal” I handed him his staff back. “Pleasure doing business Mr. radio demon.”

Even after I left, I couldn’t shake the phantom sensation of his fingers digging into my cheeks—or the way he promised to make my punishment extra slow. On top of that was the mystery of him letting me live. He could have killed me no doubt. That can only mean one of two things: He likes me, or he wants something from me. Yeah, definitely the latter. The Radio Demon? Liking someone? Yeah, no. I think Nifty is the closest thing to that, and even that’s weird.

Alastor’s weird. Stop thinking about him, you freak.

I love how easy it is to get ideas for this. This fanfic cured my writer's block. (I write short stories and poetry.) ☺️

[maidenvault]

I’m still only about halfway through the show but it continues to make me insane how John Grey and Jack Randall, as the two most important gay characters in Outlander, serve as foils for each other in all these fascinating ways that largely cancel out my initial reservations about the writing of queer characters on this show.

Randall hates that his brother, the only person in the world he seems to love, forces him with his dying wish to take Mary as his wife. It doesn’t matter that he’s not attracted to women, Randall is such a sick sadist he can’t trust himself to have that kind of power over a person so dear to Alex. And it seems to prove his fears right, and that it’s lucky he probably dies without the marriage even consummated, that he’s so anguished by going through with it he starts beating Alex’s corpse in front of her the moment he’s died.

Likewise John is horrified by the idea when Brianna tries to blackmail him into marrying her for her convenience, because even if he doesn’t like women she’s Jamie’s full-grown daughter and he can’t help but feel drawn to her. He knows there’s a very weak part of him that is not above sleeping with her to feel close to the man he wants more than anything. John would never actually touch her, just as he wouldn’t have Jamie on the wrong terms, but I think threatening her by saying he’s been married before and is perfectly capable of consummating it is the only way he can make her understand why he can’t possibly marry her. It wouldn’t be a danger to her but it would probably kind of destroy him.

Randall’s story always feels like it’s entangled with Jamie’s and Claire’s by destiny. Claire was always connected to her soul mate from 200 years ago through her marriage to a Randall, and Jack is the first person she encounters in the past. The two of them have this fascinating chemistry because she has what he can’t have, because she and Jamie are the only people he’s fully shown himself to as a total monster, and he’s even strangely vulnerable with her in their last conversation. He resents what’s between them because he can’t understand the power Claire has over him. In his own completely fucked up way he’s in love with Jamie, but Randall only gets off on power over people and is incapable of understanding the power that can come from willingly submitting to the person you love, that that’s part of what makes Jamie this incredibly strong and impressive man he loved breaking but seemingly goes to his grave still wanting he-doesn’t-know-what from.

John Grey’s destiny seems even more meaningfully entangled with theirs. What John impulsively swears after the first encounter between the three of them, by total mishap and coincidence, ends up saving Jamie’s life down the road. John is the only reason he’s eventually able to reunite with Claire after twenty years, and he’s so often conveniently placed where he can help them.

John also has this unique chemistry and even strange intimacy with Claire because they love the same man, but John accepts that what he wants with Jamie is impossible. He’s so above him in class that it’s never appropriate for them to even hug each other (GOD), yet John’s devotion to him is like that of chaste courtly love and he’d probably do literally anything for him (Jamie probably bristles so much at Murtagh asking him to get redcoat intel out of John because it would be taking advantage of more than their friendship). They’ll be connected forever because he’s raising Willie as his own, the real love of his life, and whether it’s totally healthy or not he’ll take it.

And of course unlike Randall, John isn’t possessive of Jamie. He can’t exactly be besties with Claire but I think in his own way he loves her for seeing him, and he knows she’s special and worthy of Jamie. He would never dream of reducing Jamie to less than he is to have him. He fell in love with this man seeing how he naturally commanded respect and loyalty even in the walls of a prison, and honestly even if Jamie could have loved him back, I don’t think John could stand to see him be a groom in his service or something forever so they could discreetly have a relationship. He’s younger than Jamie, and though he’s a lord with a naturally imperious air and a shrewd leader and impressive soldier, it’s uh…not hard to imagine the dynamic we’ve seen when we first see John with a sexual partner is a different picture from his fantasies involving Jamie.

Maybe to a lot of people it’s still disappointing that John is fundamentally a tragic character in a world he can’t be himself in. I feel guilty myself because I honestly can’t decide at this point if I want John to find his own true love or just end up dramatically dying in Jamie’s arms like Eponine, lol (pls don’t spoil me!) But I know it’s not cool to like Outlander because Diana Gabaldon can be kind of annoying and tumblr thinks all het romance is cringe, and it’s too bad because specificity is what actually makes minority representation interesting and there is some pretty fucking wild shit like nothing I’ve ever seen in other shows wrt the relationships with and portrayals of queer characters on this show. It blew my head open thinking of all the different ways this is weird when Brianna fucking proposed to John, just like it must have hers when he was like “Oh sweetie, you think your dad doesn’t know?” 😂 That is just good television.

[dollsahoy]

I am not eloquent

I am not philosophical

but I am in possession of a lot of hobby stuff, and have, in the last few years, discovered that I feel better when I have less of it

And getting to that point through 'using it' and through 'figuring out what I wouldn't miss if I didn't have it and then giving that away' both work for me

so I have been presenting the idea for others to consider

I'm not telling people what to do, and I know I'm not always saying it well

but I am getting the idea out there (I hope)