#i hope the vibes of this piece get across to people

[sweetberry-roebuck]

If you don't hate me, then reanimate me

Prove it to me baby, lightning in my veins

(Transparent bg ranmarus and direct references from the game under the cut)

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

[winxanity-ii]

LIKE WHAT YOU SEE?

ship: fashion designer!gojo x fem!model!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (fem. receiving hand-job/fingering; overstimualtion; p in v ; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos) word count: 6.6k (i'm gagged cuz i swear it wasn't that many words as i was typing 😭😭💀) A/N: Hey, bubbly-bear! just wanted to let you know i've moved from my my alt account to my main one, so i'm posting your request here…

Request:Hello! I had a lil gojo x reader idea but if you aren’t vibing with it please dont feel like you have to write it, or change it how you see fit! BUT I feel like Guess (ft. Billie E.) By Charlie xcx is so Gojo coded and I would love to see a fic based off of it if possible :)

p.s. mwaaaaahhhhh, thx you so much for being my first request, hope i did you justice 😩✨

This line from the song just stood out to me and i just had to write it:

I wanna try it, bite it, lick it, spit it Pull it to the side and get all up in it Kiss it, ride it, can I fit it?

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

"Turn your head like that—yes, perfect! Raise your chin a little more. Hold it!" The head photographer's voice cut through the organized chaos, every word precise and demanding. "Lighting! Can we adjust the back light, it's catching too much glare!" Another barked command as assistants scurried to fix the harsh spotlight casting an overexposed halo on you. "Makeup! Fix the lipstick; it's smudged." The pace had been relentless, as it always was on set. The camera had clicked, capturing each second of your endurance, but all you could focus on was the way your body ached.

Your feet, crammed into designer heels, screamed for relief, and your back burned from holding poses longer than it felt natural. You shifted your weight slightly, hoping no one noticed as the clicks of the camera went on like rapid fire.

"Alright, people, ten-minute break!" Finally, the head photographer clapped his hands, giving everyone the much-needed signal to stop.

A bell rang faintly in the background, and your shoulders slumped as you let out a groan.

You dropped the strained pose you had been holding for what felt like an eternity. You rolled your neck, feeling the tension snap and release in your joints.

The lights dimmed slightly as Kugisaki Nobara and Itadori Yuji sauntered over from the swimwear shoot, and you couldn't help but notice how their outfits screamed for attention—both in completely different ways.

Nobara was in a skimpy two-piece swimsuit, the top barely enough to cover her small bust, accentuating her slim waist. The delicate straps dug into her skin as she pulled at them, clearly annoyed, though the outfit highlighted her toned frame with every step she took.

The bottom piece clung to her hips, just barely covering enough to maintain some modesty, with high-cut sides that emphasized her long legs.

Despite the discomfort written across her face, Nobara moved with confidence, her slender figure not going unnoticed by the photographers still milling around.

She scrunched her nose. "This swimsuit is killing me," she muttered, fingers fidgeting with the ties around her waist. "Honestly, whose idea was it to make swimwear this uncomfortable?"

Yuji, in contrast, had an air of ease about him, rocking a pair of matching swim trunks that coordinated with Nobara's outfit—an intentional design that somehow made their shoot feel like a playful, couples-themed editorial.

His bare chest gleamed under the studio lights, each of his perfectly sculpted abs on display as though carved by a sculptor. His body was toned yet muscular, the kind of physique that didn’t need fancy clothes to stand out.

With sun-kissed skin and that infectious grin, Yuji could have made wearing anything look effortless.

"C'mon, Nobara, we don't have that much longer. Besides, you look great," Yuji said, his voice lighthearted as always.

Nobara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, says the guy who could wear a trash bag and still smile like it's no big deal."

You let out a quiet chuckle as Yuji gave you a wink before being called away to review some of the shots. He shot you a playful smile over his shoulder as he walked off, his broad back flexing slightly under the pressure of moving around in the hot lights.

"Ugh, I swear, if Yuji keeps this up, I'm going to barf," Nobara muttered, shaking her head as she sidled up next to you, arms crossed over her chest.

The two of you made your way toward the refreshments table, where the scattered models and assistants buzzed like bees around a honey pot.

You could feel the material of your own outfit shift as you moved, the delicate knitted vest you wore slightly hugging your upper body. It was all part of the 'clean girl' aesthetic your stylist had chosen for you—a knitted cream-colored vest over a crisp white blouse, paired with a pleated schoolgirl skirt that swayed with every step.

It was simple, yet chic—the kind of outfit that made you feel both elegant and casual at the same time.

Yet, despite its light, airy look, the long hours standing in the heels were starting to make your feet scream. The snug fit of the vest only heightened the strain on your tired muscles, adding to the sense of exhaustion.

Nobara leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming as if she was about to share the juiciest tidbit of gossip she had yet. "So, did you hear about Kaori and that photographer? Apparently, they got caught in one of the back dressing rooms."

You raised a brow, barely hiding your amusement. "Kaori? The one who's been eyeing everyone since day one?."

"Oh, and you didn't hear this from me," Nobara continued, lowering her voice even more, "but Sumi told me that Yuji's been getting cozy with that new model, Megumi. You know, the quiet one? Well, they—"

You groaned, cutting her off. "Don't you ever get tired of knowing all the messy things?"

Nobara rolled her eyes dramatically, her lips curling into a smirk. "Never~" she said, before nodding toward the side entrance. Her voice took on a mischievous edge as she added, "Just like I know you never get tired of denying that your new stylist wants to fuck you."

You practically choked, your eyes widening as the words hit you. "W-What?" you sputtered, your face heating up. You let out a shaky laugh, then coughed, trying to gather yourself. "Stop saying that…"

Nobara's smirk only grew wider, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Oh, come on. The man practically undresses you with his eyes every time he's around. You can't tell me you don't notice the way he looks at you. The man's got designs on more than just your clothes, babe."

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and you averted your gaze, unsure how to respond.

It was hard to deny that your stylist's hands lingered just a bit too long during fittings, or that his gaze seemed a little too intense when he adjusted the fabrics on your body.

The clean, tailored looks he designed for you always felt more intimate than the pieces he created for other models. But surely, it was just part of his meticulous nature, right?

"I-It's just professional," you stammered, glancing down at the drink in your hand, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the growing knot in your stomach. "He's focused on the designs, Nobara. That's it."

Nobara snorted, giving you a knowing look. "Yeah, okay. If by ‘designs’ you mean figuring out how to get under your clothes, then sure. But I mean, I'm not complaining. If I were in your shoes, I'd fuck him."

Before you could respond, a shadow fell over you both, and you didn't need to look up to know who it was. You felt his presence before you saw him.

There, leaning casually against the side of the refreshment table, was Gojo Satoru, the man in question.

His signature smirk played on his lips as those piercing, ice-blue eyes of his scanned over you over his shades, and you could practically feel the heat of his gaze as it lingered on your skirt.

"Ladies," Satoru drawled, his voice smooth and dripping with charm. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything too scandalous?"

Nobara raised an eyebrow, giving you a teasing look before stepping back. "Oh no, nothing at all. We were just talking about your... designs," she said with a sly grin before stepping back. "Guess, I'll leave you two to it," she teased, nudging you as she walked away.

And just like that, you were left alone with him, heart racing as you met his eyes. His grin only widened, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

"So..." Satoru murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in slightly. "Anything you'd like to confess?"

Your throat went dry, and you could only shake your head, praying that he hadn't overheard Nobara's playful remarks.

But judging by the gleam in his eyes, you had a feeling he probably had.

Your heart raced as you tried to compose yourself, swallowing back the nerves rising in your throat. You forced a smile, though it felt shaky at best. "I don't have anything to confess," you said, attempting to keep your voice light. "Is there anything you need help with?"

Satoru's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming as he straightened up, his hands casually slipping into the pockets of his perfectly tailored trousers. "As a matter of fact," he drawled, "you could help me with something."

You blinked, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. Before you could ask what he meant, two of Satoru's assistants appeared at his side, as if on cue, each one wearing the kind of professionalism that didn't quite mask the urgency in their steps.

Without explanation, they began to gently but firmly usher you toward the changing quarters.

"W-Wait—what's going on?" you stammered, glancing over your shoulder at Satoru, who followed behind leisurely, his long strides giving him an air of complete control. "Why am I changing? I thought my shoot was almost over?"

"Oh, nothing much," Satoru sing-songed, his lips pulling into a mischievous grin. "I just had a chat with the higher-ups about pushing up the date for a few of our theme releases. Ya'know, rearranging which models get which looks."

Your confusion only deepened, and you blinked owlishly, trying to make sense of his words as you were guided toward a small room at the end of the hallway. "But—what does that have to do with—"

You trailed off as you stepped into the changing room and saw the mannequin sitting in the center. It was draped in an outfit that made your breath catch in your throat. A short leather miniskirt, sleek and shimmering, paired with a crop bodycon top that clung to the mannequin’s torso like a second skin

The entire ensemble was a bold combination of black and silver, with metallic bangles adorning the arms and a choker embedded with silver and black accents.

But what truly caught your attention was the soft sheen of baby blue that ran through the outfit—a shade that was eerily similar to the blue of Satoru's eyes.

You stared at the outfit for a moment, taking in the platform boots that completed the look, their towering heels intimidating yet alluring. The whole ensemble screamed nightlife, clubbing, a world of flashing lights and pulsing music.

It was striking, to say the least.

The assistants wasted no time, setting down various items on a nearby table while preparing the room for your quick change. But you stood frozen, blinking again as realization slowly dawned.

Satoru leaned against the doorframe, watching you with an almost lazy amusement.

"You're joking," you muttered, half in disbelief.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

You glanced back at the mannequin, the black and silver catching the light in a way that made the outfit seem even more eye-catching.

The baby blue accents shimmered faintly, bringing your thoughts right back to Satoru, his confident smirk and those eyes that seemed to follow your every move.

The outfit looked like it had been designed for you—and only you.

The assistants were already moving around, gesturing for you to start changing, but your mind was still reeling. "You... moved up the schedule?"

"Had a feeling this look was perfect for you," Satoru said casually, pushing off the doorframe and walking further into the room. "Wanted to see it on you sooner rather than later."

You bit your lip, nerves fluttering in your chest as you stared at the mannequin once more.

The way Satoru's gaze lingered on you sent a shiver down your spine.

It was as if this entire thing had been orchestrated just for his amusement, his design, his vision.

The assistants handed you the top, a fitted crop that shimmered in the light, the baby blue accents standing out against the metallic silver.

You reluctantly grabbed it from them as they moved off to remove the other pieces from the mannequin.

The room felt warmer all of a sudden, like the air had thickened, and you couldn’t shake the tension prickling at the back of your neck.

You lifted your gaze only to find Satoru already staring at you, his eyes locked on yours in a way that made your breath hitch. You cleared your throat, your voice shaky as you tried to break the spell. "Shouldn't you leave? I need to change."

Instead of moving, his lips curved into that trademark smirk that always made your stomach flip. "I'll have to stay and oversee things. You know, just to make sure nothing goes wrong. I can swoop in and fix anything if needed."

Your face burned, heat rushing to your cheeks as his words lingered in the air.

You weren't naïve. You'd worked with dozens of stylists before, all of them meticulous, always staying to make sure the fit was perfect. But none of them ever made your skin tingle the way Satoru did.

None of them ever watched you like they were imagining a thousand different things beneath the clothes. And none of them ever made you feel like you were burning alive from the inside out with just a look.

Heart pounding, you turned away, hoping to escape his gaze. You began undressing, slipping out of your current outfit.

Each movement felt amplified, like you could feel the air around you, charged with tension. You reached behind yourself, trying to steady your breathing as you fumbled with the zipper.

You could practically feel his eyes on you, mapping out your body, lingering on every curve as if he could see right through the fabric.

Your skin prickled, the sensation of his gaze making it hard to even think straight. Every breath felt labored, every second stretched too long.

As you reached behind to unclip your bralette, your fingers trembling slightly, you felt a pair of hands cover yours—large, warm, and deliberate.

The shock froze you in place, your breath catching in your throat.

"Allow me to help you with that…" His voice was low, velvety, and it sent a shiver down your spine as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear.

The world narrowed to that moment, the heat of his presence overwhelming your senses. His fingers gently brushed against yours as he unhooked your bralette, the touch feather-light but filled with an unspoken promise.

You couldn't move, couldn't breathe, the room suddenly too small, too hot, with Satoru towering behind you, his hands so close, too close.

Every nerve in your body screamed in protest, but your heart betrayed you, hammering in your chest as a low pulse of desire curled through your veins.

His hands slid away as he stepped back, giving you room, but the mark of his touch lingered long after he'd let go.

It left you breathless, the space between you charged with something dangerous, something unspoken that hung heavy in the air.

Satoru's smirk never wavered, his eyes still locked onto yours in the reflection of the mirror. "There..." he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. "...All done."

You stuttered out a soft, breathless, "Thank you," barely able to get the words out before Satoru turned on his heel. His presence seemed to consume the room, but as he barked an order to one of his assistants, the pressure finally lifted.

"Adjust the lighting for the next setup! And I want the backdrop changed in five minutes!" Satoru's voice rang out, sharp and authoritative. With one last glance over his shoulder at you, he strode away, leaving the room in a whirlwind of activity.

As soon as he was gone, it felt like you could finally breathe again. The air in the room cooled, the weight of his lingering presence fading, though not entirely.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you pulled the leather skirt up over your hips, the fabric snug against your skin. Satoru's assistant helped you with the bodycon top, tugging it into place, adjusting the hem and smoothing out the fabric as it clung to your curves.

The outfit was bold—almost too bold—but it fit like a second skin, highlighting every line of your body in the way only Satoru's designs could.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of camera clicks, flashing lights, and endless posing. Hours slipped by, the sun gradually lowering as the shoot continued, stretching longer than expected.

Nanami Kento, the photographer overseeing everything, was a perfectionist. His no-nonsense attitude left no room for error, and his eye for detail was unmatched.

He had insisted on waiting for the natural dusk light, arguing that it would complement the metallic sheen of your outfit and bring out the best in the overall composition.

You had worked with Kento before. His bluntness and unwavering pursuit of perfection made him a tough taskmaster, but he was one of the best in the industry.

Shoots paired with him always led to increased success. His images captured not just the clothes, but the mood, the essence of the model wearing them.

He and Satoru were at the top of their game right now, the dynamic power duo behind many successful campaigns, and you couldn't deny how they both pushed you further than anyone else ever had.

"…And… that's a wrap!" Kento's voice finally cut through the endless camera clicks, sharp and definitive. The faint ring of a bell followed, signaling the end of the shoot.

You exhaled a long, relieved breath, feeling the weight of the day lift off your shoulders.

The shoot had taken the remainder of the day, from midday to the last golden rays of dusk.

The combination of Satoru's exacting demands—making you pose in just the right way to show off the outfit—and Kento's insistence on perfect lighting meant you'd spent hours standing, twisting, and holding uncomfortable poses.

The tightness in your back and shoulders made it clear how long you had been at it. Your feet ached in the platform boots, and your muscles screamed for rest.

As the assistants began to pack away the equipment, the space slowly emptied out. The other models and staff had long since finished their own shoots and left, leaving only you and a skeleton crew behind.

The studio, once alive with chaos, was now eerily quiet, the low hum of final tasks being completed the only sound in the background.

You peeled yourself away from the set and made your way back to the dressing room, feeling the tightness of the leather skirt with every step.

The corridors were deserted now, with most of the team having wrapped up hours ago. The silence was almost jarring after the noise and flurry of the day.

You were exhausted, every muscle in your body protesting as you moved.

Finally, you reached your dressing room, the door creaking slightly as you pushed it open. The sight of the empty space—the vanity mirror now bare, clothes and shoes scattered—was a welcome relief.

The day had been long, but now you could unwind.

As you closed the door behind you, the quiet settled over you like a blanket, offering you the peace you desperately needed.

You stumbled into the room, barely keeping yourself upright as exhaustion weighed down your limbs. Practically dead on your feet, you began peeling off the clothes that had felt glued to your body for the last several hours.

The crop top slipped off first, falling to the floor with a soft thud.

You didn't care where it landed as you walked over to the couch in the center of the room, facing a large squared mirror. Each step felt like a weight being lifted from your sore muscles.

A cool draft brushed against your bare torso, making you shiver slightly as it passed over the sheen of sweat from the long day. Your fingers worked at the accessories next, unfastening the bangles around your wrists and dropping them carelessly.

The metal clanked against the floor, loud in the otherwise quiet space. You massaged your sore wrists, the cool air soothing the raw skin where the jewelry had pressed tight against you.

Your fingers then moved to the choker at your neck, tugging it free and letting it fall beside the rest, relieved to feel the soft touch of air against your throat.

Your mind began to drift, wandering somewhere far away from the chaos of the day. You thought about what you'd do when you got home.

Maybe snack on those yogurt bites you found at the grocery store earlier that week. Or maybe you can finally binge-watch that series you'd been meaning to catch up on.

The thought made you feel a little lighter.

Hell, you can even spend tomorrow doing absolutely nothing, you have nothing booked!

You were right in the middle of imagining your lazy day ahead, fingers working the clasp of your bralette, when the door creaked open behind you.

"Hey! I'm—" Your arms instinctively rose to catch your slipping bra before it could fall completely. Your heart raced, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

You looked up at the large mirror in front of you, eyes wide, only to lock gazes with Satoru, lounging casually against the doorway as if he had all the time in the world.

"—undressing," you finished, your voice dropping to a shaky whisper.

Satoru's lips curved into a faint smirk, his gaze shameless as it raked over your disheveled appearance. He tilted his head slightly, looking over his shades at the scattered accessories and top on the floor. "You know," he said, his voice light with a playful edge, "you really shouldn't leave my designs lying around like that. It's almost disrespectful."

For a moment, you thought he'd bend down to pick up the items—his creations, after all. But instead, he strolled right past them, making his way toward you.

Your breath hitched, your body freezing in place as his steps closed the distance between you.

Satoru's eyes, usually filled with playful mischief, were darker now, more intense as they followed the lines of your form.

He moved with the kind of confidence that left no room for doubt. And as he reached your side, standing just behind you, his presence loomed, filling the small space with the heat of his gaze.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the cool draft that had once been a relief now doing little to cool the flush rising across your skin.

Satoru stepped even closer, the heat radiating from him making the cool draft on your bare skin feel like a distant memory. His presence was overwhelming, filling the small room until all you could focus on was the warmth seeping from him and the way his gaze lingered on your reflection in the mirror.

"You know," he began, his voice soft, almost idle, "a lot of my best designs… they're not the ones I spend weeks perfecting." His words drifted through the air like a secret. He raised a hand, his fingertips brushing lightly against the faint indents the choker had left on your neck. The touch was barely there, yet it sent a shiver running down your spine. "No… the ones that really stand out," he continued, "are the ones that light up in my mind every time you fall into my vision."

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as he leaned in closer, his chest now just inches from your back.

The heat from his body wrapped around you like a second skin, and you watched him through the mirror, mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes as he spoke.

His hand, warm and deliberate, trailed slowly down your arm, his fingers brushing your skin with a tenderness that felt both comforting and dangerous.

"You're my muse," he said, almost as if speaking to himself, lost in the thought. "Every second I spend watching you, seeing you wear my designs, it's nothing but inspiration." His hand continued to drift lower, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist before sliding back up, pulling you just slightly, coaxing your body into his.

Your breath grew heavier, chest rising and falling with each shallow inhale as you were drawn back against him, the solid warmth of his chest pressing into your bare back.

Your gaze flickered to the mirror, watching the scene unfold before you—his hand resting lightly on your waist, his eyes tracing the outline of your form as if committing every curve, every inch of you, to memory.

You could feel his breath, warm and steady, fanning against your ear, and it made your head spin, your thoughts running wild.

"Every touch," he murmured, his lips brushing just above your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Every glance…" His voice dropped, becoming something darker, heavier. "I can't stop thinking about how perfectly you fit into my designs. Like you were made for them—or maybe… they were made for you."

His hand trailed down your arm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, and you watched him in the mirror, breath hitching in your throat. Then, his lips ghosted over your ear again, the warmth of his breath making you tremble as he purred, "But you know… I keep thinking about something else…"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you felt him shift closer, his chest now flush against your back. The air between you crackled with tension, thick and almost suffocating, and yet you couldn't pull away—you didn't want to.

His hands pressed against your waist as he lowered his voice to something almost sinful. "…How perfectly you'll fit around me."

The words slipped from his lips, dripping with raw, undeniable desire, every word reverberating through your skin, hitting you like a tidal wave. Your breath stilled in your lungs, heat coursing through your body as your mind raced.

Wait a minute—what's… b-but—

His arms tightened around you as his mouth hovered near your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me you feel it too," he groaned, his voice low, growling with need as his fingers dug into your hips. "Tell me you want it… just as badly as I do."

Finally, your mouth seemed to catch up with your thoughts. "S-Satoru—"

Your voice once again falls away as Satoru's arms tightened around you, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. You felt his chest rise and fall rapidly, pressing into your back, his grip around your waist possessive, firm.

Then, in a voice so raw, so desperate it sent a shiver down your spine, he whispered, "Can I... have you?"

The words tumbled from his lips in a near whimper, laden with a hunger that bordered on pleading. His breath hitched, his forehead brushing against the back of your neck as if even he was losing control of the space between you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your mind trying to process everything, yet failing to hold onto any coherent thought. His words, the way they sounded so needy, left you breathless.

You watched him in the mirror, his reflection almost ghostly in the low light of the room. His eyes were half-lidded, clouded with lust as they lingered on your form, and his lips, parted slightly, looked dangerously close to speaking something sinful, something that would push you over the edge.

The room was silent except for his panting breaths in your ear. You could feel his need in the way his arms wrapped around you, in the way his fingers pressed just a little too tightly into your skin.

"Say yes..." he breathed, his voice low and pleading, his lips now trailing down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of heat with every soft, almost teasing touch. "Please... just say yes."

Your breath caught in your throat, your body frozen in place as your mind blocking out everything else but Satoru.

The sound of him, the feel of him, the way his voice came out in that almost whimpering tone—it consumed you, leaving no room for anything else but him.

Finally, a breathless, barely audible "yes" escaped your lips, the word trembling from your mouth like a whimper, your resolve crumbling under the intensity of the moment.

It was as if a switch had been flipped in Satoru. His wicked smirk grew, a gleam in his eyes as he dipped his head lower, pressing a soft kiss to your neck before dragging his tongue in a slow, deliberate stripe up your skin.

The heat of his breath against your neck sent shivers racing down your spine, making your entire body tense.

"Good girl~" he purred softly into your ear, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Before you could even catch your breath, he pulled you down onto the couch, his movements fluid and effortless. You landed in his lap, your back pressed firmly against his chest, legs bent and pulled up on either side of him, facing the mirror.

our thighs immediately began to burn from the stretch, the leather skirt you wore sliding up all the way, exposing the lace underwear beneath—the same light blue that matched the bralette you'd worn earlier.

The delicate fabric contrasted sharply with the heat of the moment, and your face flushed in embarrassment as your eyes caught the sight of a small wet patch there.

Your heart raced as you tried instinctively to close your legs, but before you could, he gently tapped your thighs with his fingers, his smirk never faltering. "Aht aht," he scolded lightly, his tone playful but firm, making it clear that he was in control.

His arms slid under your legs, lifting them slightly and pulling them farther apart.

The stretch made you gasp, thighs burning as he forced you all the way back against his chest, your body now fully reclined into him.

His grip was strong but not painful, holding you in place as his breath ghosted over the side of your face.

In the mirror, you saw it all—your legs spread wide, your flushed face, and Satoru's darkened gaze fixed on you, his expression one of total control. His was voice, low and teasing, rumbling against your ear. "Look at you... perfect," he murmured, holding you tightly against him, his arms securing you in place, his presence overwhelming.

The reflection showed more than just your vulnerability—it was the power he had over you, and the way he reveled in every second of it.

Satoru's left hand slowly trailed down your body, his touch feather-light at first, but purposeful. The cool air kissed your skin as his fingers slid beneath the waistband of your underwear, his hand pressing firmly against your most sensitive spot without pulling the fabric to the side.

The sensation made your breath hitch, and your entire body tensed as his fingers began to move, rubbing slow, deliberate circles along your slit, teasing and drawing out every bit of tension you’d been holding inside.

His fingers trailed gently up and down, gliding over your skin as if he were mapping you out, testing your every reaction. He found your clit with ease, rubbing small, teasing circles that sent jolts of heat through you, the slow rhythm making it impossible to think straight.

Your thighs twitched, the stretch around him making the sensation even more intense. The heat of embarrassment flooded through you as your body reacted, and when you turned your face away, unable to watch the reflection of what he was doing to you.

Satoru clicked his tongue softly in disapproval. "Uh-uh," he murmured, his voice dark with command. "Eyes on the mirror. Watch what I do to you."

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as your gaze reluctantly shifted back to the mirror.

His hand kept moving, the slow rhythm intensifying, the way he touched you sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. His reflection was smug, pleased, as he watched you fight to keep your eyes open and focused on what he was doing.

It was an order, and disobeying felt impossible.

When his finger slipped inside you, your body jolted slightly, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. His movements were slow, deliberate, each stroke inside you making it harder to think.

One became two, both pumping in and out of your clenching heat with a slow, deep rhythm. He kept his other arm wrapped securely around your waist, holding you in place against his chest as he worked his fingers deeper.

His breath was hot against your ear as his grip on your body tightened, his voice a low groan as he spoke. "You know what I can't wait to do?" His words sent a new rush of heat through you, and he chuckled softly at your reaction. "I can't wait to taste you... spend hours learning every inch of my muse's body. Watching you come undone again and again and again."

The promise in his voice made your mind reel, the intensity of his touch and his words leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as your pulse raced.

A particularly well-angled thrust had your back arching, a breathy moan slipping free. "That's it..." he praised, curling his fingers so they can brush against your G-spot again. "You're so wet for me... So responsive."

His thumb joined the fray, rubbing firmer circles over your clit that had your hips rolling mindlessly to meet his touch. He worked you higher and higher, stoking the flames of your pleasure until you were teetering right on the edge.

And still, he demanded you watch. Compelled you to observe the wanton display you made, his dark gaze devouring you from over your shoulder.

"Come for me," Satoru growled against your lips, his fingers pumping furiously now. "Let go. Now."

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and whiting out your vision. You shook and shuddered in his hold, a cry of ecstasy torn from your throat as he wrung every last bit of pleasure from your spasming body.

Satoru swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing you deeply as he continued his ministrations.

Only when you collapsed bonelessly against him did Satoru still his hand, drawing his glistening fingers from your depths. He brought them to his mouth, maintaining eye contact through the mirror as he licked them clean with a shameless moan.

"Delicious~" he purred, voice rough with satisfaction. "My perfect muse."

You felt weightless, the tension from the day—hell, the whole week—melting into nothingness as the lingering echoes of your orgasm left you in a daze. Your body felt loose, relaxed, like all the stress had finally evaporated, and for a moment, you simply existed, floating in the aftermath.

Then, you felt your thighs shift wider, and a small, confused sound escaped you before you even realized it.

Satoru's low chuckle filled the quiet room, dark and amused. "You didn’t think that was it, did you?" His voice dripped with mischief as his hands moved to adjust you in his lap. He shifted beneath you, pulling his pants down slightly as he repositioned you, pulling you higher onto his lap.

The movement pressed you closer to him, allowing you to fully feel him underneath you, hard and insistent. His hand returned to your underwear, the long digits returning to rub away at you.

The sudden pressure made your back arch instinctively, a small whimper escaping your lips from the mix of sensation—equal parts pleasure and the discomfort of being played with beyond your limit.

"Silly girl," he tutted softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. His hand returned to your waist, the grip firm yet tender, as he tugged your underwear to the side, filling you in one stroke.

You both froze for different reasons—your legs trembled as you felt the stretch, trying to stay tethered because he had to be the biggest you'd ever had, while Satoru groaned, overwhelmed by the tightness that enveloped him.

"F-Fuck," he groaned, his head falling back against the couch, eyes fluttering closed.

You let out a broken whimper, arms growing weak and giving out beneath you. You collapsed slightly forward, your forehead resting against his thighs as you tried to adjust, to find some relief from the pressure.

Satoru growled softly at the sight, his hands gripping your waist with more purpose. He pulled you fully down onto him, your hips flush against his.

"S-Satoru..." you moaned, your voice shaking, tears welling in your eyes as the sensation became overwhelming.

His hips jerked forward in short, deliberate movements, and your body responded, helpless to the rhythm he set. "T-that's right, baby, say my name..." he groaned, his voice thick with need as his hands guided you, pulling you back down with each upward thrust.

He lifted his hips to speed up the movements. You could only cling to his thighs, breathless and powerless against the force of his desire.

Satoru kept going, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer, filthy words laced with desire. His grip on your waist was tight, almost bruising, as he held you firmly in place.

The sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room—wet, slick noises and the rhythmic squelching with every movement.

The intensity of the moment wrapped around you, heightening every sensation, your body overwhelmed by the pressure building inside you.

Your second orgasm was approaching too quickly, the wave of pleasure rising fast, almost too much to handle. Desperation washed over you, and you tried to scoot forward, to slow things down, but Satoru's response was immediate—he went faster, his thrusts growing erratic.

You let out a choked cry, begging for him to slow down, but he only groaned in response, his pace relentless.

The sensation was overwhelming, and then it hit you, like you were thrown over the edge. Your eyes fluttered closed as the blinding pleasure rocked your entire frame.

Your body shook, every nerve alight as the intensity consumed you. You could hear Satoru cursing under his breath as you trembled in his arms, your body a quivering mess in the aftermath.

And then you felt it—the heat of him filling you, spreading through your lower body in a rush of warmth. Satoru let out a long, drawn-out groan, pressing himself flush against you as he reached his climax. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving as he stayed close, savoring the feeling.

Before you could catch your breath or say anything, Satoru moved again. He pulled you back slightly, and you gasped, the sudden movement sending a mix of pain and pleasure shooting through you.

His hands snaked under your thighs, lifting you carefully from his lap. He groaned softly as he watched his release spilling from you, leaking out as he admired the sight.

Satoru gave a low whistle, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "What a sight to see," he hummed, his voice thick with amusement. One of his hands trailed down to your entrance, his thumb gently grazing over the sensitive skin.

He played with your sticky entrance, his fingers teasing, before pressing back to plug up the fallen release. Your thighs twitched in response, a shiver running through you at the sudden sensation.

You called out his name for what felt like the third time, your voice weak but pleading. "Satoru..."

He let out a tired but satisfied chuckle, his hand pulling away as he finally relented. "Fine, fine," he murmured, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. He settled you down on his lap again, this time pulling you close to his chest, cradling you as his arms wrapped securely around you.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, his breathing slowing as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

The night grew quiet, the tension fading into a comfortable stillness, but even as you relaxed against him, your mind wandered.

As the night went on, you couldn't help but think: Nobara was fucking right.

A/N: lolol, sorry for the influx of smut guys, promise this won't be like an everyday thinjg.... 👀 anyways, hope this was up to your standards and wasn't too bad bubbly-bear, i tried my best to make it work to the song...😭

[jarofstyles]

Moonflower

Hi my lovelies! I’ve got a Witch H x Witch Y/N piece for you guys!! I hope you’ve enjoyed the spookier stuff, this one is filthy and sweet with a magical vibe 🔮

Check our out Patreon for early access and 200+ exclusive writings

WC- 5.8k

Warnings- magic, rituals, witch stuff, potions that effect arousal and that sort of thing, unprotected sex, spit play if you squint, soul ties, etc

She caught his eye across the fire.

He hung back at the tree line, as most of the men did. The dance dedicated to the moon goddess, Divine Feminine, was performed only by the women in the coven, but the full moon circle ritual was open to all. She should have known he would come crawling out of the shadows eventually.

Her heartbeat was thudding harder in her chest after finding the confirmation he was there. The relationship she shared with Harry had always been a complex one, but it was one she cherished nonetheless.

He tended to stick in his cottage with his books, his spells, the incantations muttered by his deep, raspy voice. A bit of a loner, he was, but a valuable asset to them all. While he wasn’t much for group activities, he was very active in the one-on-one space. specifically seeking Y/N out for potions, practicing with her and somehow finding his way between her thighs. She found herself waiting for those moments, eating them up each and every time. It seemed to get more frequent lately- not that she was complaining.

Harry made her nervous in a good way. He challenged her, made her a better witch. But he was a little hard to read at times. She wasn’t sure where she stood or what their relationship was. All the witch knew was that he had been seeking her out more often, finding his way to get his hands on her and excuses to talk to her whenever he could and she loved every little bit.

His eyes felt hotter than the flames licking the air, the music slowing as the sparks spit up into the sky. The offering was burning in the pit, and she could feel the magic in the air. It was only natural with a bunch of magically incline folks around.

That, and the fact that the women were all fully nude, and the heat of the fire could be felt on bare skin.

As the ritual came to an end, she ignored the feeling of his eyes on her- and the giddiness it was sending towards her stomach- as she stepped back towards her velvet ritual robe. He’d approach her. She could feel it.

Harry’s footsteps would have been almost silent if it hadn’t been for the crisp leaves on the ground for the season. It gave her a chance to know he was coming, though he knew she was aware his eyes were watching as she wrapped the velvet robe around her, the fabric soft and warm against her skin- though not as warm as it should be. His gaze lingered on the way the fabric draped over her curves, the way it pooled at her feet. He could almost smell the scent of her, the mix of chamomile, jasmine and something sweeter, more unique to her alone as he trailed closer to her.

The same song and dance, but it didn’t get old. Not to him. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, holding her gaze for a long moment before he stepped out of the shadows. "Y/N.”

“Harry.” The girl replied, tugging her hair over her shoulder, out from under the robe. The moon lit him from behind, the fire from the front. While people could call him a bit odd, perhaps a bit unfriendly, they couldn’t call him anything but handsome. The man was gorgeous, almost unfairly so. Sometimes she wondered if it was possible he had put an incantation on himself to appeal to her deepest rooted desires in attraction, but it wasn’t possible. At least from her knowledge. It wasn’t a love spell either, because the obsession wasn’t there- but the curiosity was. It always lingered.

Seemingly on both ends.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” She tied the belt around the robe, crossing her arms over her chest. “You didn’t tell me when I went to borrow your book yesterday.”

"Didn't think it was necessary," Harry replied, his voice as smooth and dark as honey dripping off a spoon. He took a step closer to her, the fire casting the most alluring glow on her face. He could see the pulse at the base of her neck quickening, and he knew she wasn't as immune to him as she tried to portray. "Besides, I knew you'd be here. You always are."

“Well, it’s the most important ritual of the year for the women.” She gave him a look. “But you tend to avoid the more social situations. It’s like flipping a coin.” People did sometimes place bets but he didn’t need to know that. “Am I the reason you decided to haul yourself out of your little lair, then?”

Harry chuckled, the sound low and husky, sending a shiver through her despite her best efforts to subdue the reaction. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her skin. "Partially," he admitted, his gaze sticking to hers. "But mostly, I just wanted to see you dancing tonight." He stepped closer, his face inches from hers. "You look absolutely divine in the moonlight like that, Y/N."

Seeing her nude, free, moving around so passionately was beautiful. It was something he wanted to see again. She could be a goddess herself if she wanted to be. Sometimes he was highly aware she underestimated her beauty and her power, but this was one of the most glaring moments.

“You’ve seen me naked quite a few times.” She muttered, voice quiet as she raised a brow at him. If he felt the heat on her face she would blame the fire, or the dancing, but it was definitely from him. Y/N was rarely, if ever, flustered by a man- but he managed to be one of the only ones who had her feeling all out of sorts and blushy. “I’ll take it as a compliment, though. There were plenty of naked women here tonight. I’m sure you enjoyed it.”

Harry's lips curled into a smirk at her words, his eyes glinting with mischief and something darker, more primal. "But none of them are you." The witch murmured, his voice soft and intent. He reached out, his fingers trailing down her arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "I may have seen you naked before, but it never fails to take my breath away."

“Harry.” She warned softly, turning to the side. It was an open secret, really. People sort of knew that she and Harry fucked, considering she wasn’t able to be quiet when he did, but tonight was different. Tonight was a ritual night, and traditional rules didn’t go.

She knew what he was doing.

“If you wanted to fuck me tonight, you can just say that.” Soon, the forest would be filled with the sounds of pleasure. The people who wanted to go home would disperse and the others would strengthen their bond to the moon, elevating their power through their sexual energy.

Harry's eyes flashed with heat at her blunt words, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Oh, I want to do more than just fuck you tonight, Y/N," he said, his voice a dark purr. He pressed against her , one hand coming to rest on her hip as the other slid up to wrap around her throat, not squeezing, just...there. "I want to worship every inch of your body under the moonlight. But I meant what I said. Not tryin’ t’soften you up.”

Yes. He didn’t want anyone else to do this with Y/N. He wanted her.

“I have to ask, though… Did you bring any of that fun stuff we tried out last month with you?”

Y/N’s body felt a new level of warmth as he pulled her into his body, letting her head fall back to look at him. She knew exactly what he was talking about- and she did.

Realistically, she knew he was going to do this. She hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up, but this was the outcome she’d wanted. Packing the two pink vials into her robe pocket, she’d tried to manifest him showing up so he could be the one to take the potion with her and experience the pleasure she had put into it.

They’d played with it a few times, when she needed to experiment with it. The first time being before she sold it off, she needed to test the batch and… well, Harry was available, and it had been the start to their little arrangement.

“I do have it.” She pulled the vials out of her pocket, letting them clank in her palm. “Is that what you want to take tonight?”

Harry's eyes locked onto the vials, a predatory gleam appearing in their depths. He licked his lips slowly, deliberately. "Mmmm, you read my mind, gorgeous. S’almost like you knew I’d be here for you." His hand slid from her throat to tangle in her hair, tugging her head back further. "I thought you'd never ask." He plucked one of the vials from her palm, holding it up to the moonlight. “Open.”

With a wicked grin, Harry unstoppered the vial and brought it to her lips. Y/N parted her lips, and he slowly tipped the vial, pouring the shimmering, pink-hued potion into her mouth. A few drops spilled over, trailing down her chin and neck, glinting in the moonlight. "Swallow for me, Goddess. Take it down."

She tilted her head back further, her throat working as she swallowed the potion. Harry's eyes were riveted to the movement, his voice growing hoarse. "That's it, almost done with it. You take it so well. Open up for me again." He brought the vial back to her lips, repeating the motion until the vial was empty, the last few drops spilling over her chin and onto her bare breasts.

He tossed the empty vial aside, his focus solely on Y/N. His touch gentled, his fingers trailing down her neck and collarbone, smearing the spilled potion across her skin, letting the residual warm her and spread the sparkle over the expanse for him to lick up later. "You're gonna get messier before this night is over."

Harry took the second vial, his eyes never leaving hers. He brought it to his own lips, tilting his head back and draining it in one long pull. As he swallowed the last drop, a shudder ran through him, his pupils dilating with the rush. "Fuck, that's...intense." He licked his lips, tasting the lingering sweetness. "I can feel it already. My senses are heightened." His head tilted as he looked at her curiously. “Y’did some work on it and didn’t consult me? What a shame.” He clicked his tongue, taking hold of her hand, walking them further back into the trees. “C’mon.”

As they walked, Harry's hand tightened around hers, his grip firm as he squeezed their palms together. Pulling her along, his steps grew surer with each one as the potion took full effect, warming his blood further. The spot he led her to was somewhat secluded, the trees dense around them, moon filtering through the canopy above to cast dappled light upon their faces. He turned to her, his eyes gleaming with desire that had been heightened. The sounds of pleasure had already started out in the other parts of the forest, but he was focused on her as he muttered under his breath. She couldn’t quite make out what he said, but realized quickly as the long grass weaved together out of the thin air that he had cast an enchantment to make the ground softer for them.

Harry turned to face her fully, his expression one of raw, unbridled lust. The potion had ignited his desire to a fever pitch, but the full moon always did have an effect to elevate all emotions. "I can smell your arousal, feel the heat coming off your skin." He stepped closer, backing her up until her back hit a broad tree trunk. His hands found her hips, gripping them over the soft velvet as he pressed his body flush against hers. "I'm going to worship every inch of you tonight, little goddess."

Y/N's breath hitched as her back met the tree, her head tilting back to look up at him. Her body hummed with anticipation, the potion's effects already coursing through her too. Her own desire was amplified, her heart pounding in her chest. Her breath was coming in quick, shallow pants, breasts heaving against his chest. A soft moan escaped her as she squirmed against him, her hands reaching up to grip his broad shoulders.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her nails scraping against the skin as she held on for dear life as his pillowy lips pressed sloppy kisses down the expanse of her throat. The simplest action made her stomach churn in the best way, eyes fluttering shut as the tiniest wet drag of his tongue under her jaw had her keening. With a sigh, her head fell back against the tree trunk, the rough bark pressing into her scalp as she arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest. a started squeak left her as he lifted her with no warning, but held no hesitation with legs wrapping around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back as she tried to pull him even closer. Her mouth hung open, soft gasps and moans escaping in between desperate little pants.

Harry groaned against her throat, the vibrations rumbling through her as he licked a hot stripe up to her ear. "You taste divine. So fucking good." he growled, nipping at the lobe. His hands slid down to grip her thighs, squeezing the supple flesh as he ground his hips against hers. The heat of his arousal pressed insistently against her core, even through the fabric of his trousers. "It’s time to get this robe off. I want to see this beautiful skin in the moonlight, just for myself.”

With a flick of his wrist, the sash of her robe loosened, the fabric gaping open to reveal the curve of her breasts. A guttural groan left him as he pushed the garment off her shoulders, the material pooling at her waist where her legs were wrapped around him. His head ducked down, his mouth finding her breast, drawing her peaked bud between his lips. He sucked hard, pulling a cry from her.

The potion was a heating crescendo in his veins, every beat of his heart a pounding drum as it coursed through him. Every touch, every scent, every sound was magnified tenfold. The feel of her thighs wrapped around him was an exquisite torture, his body burning to be inside her. His skin was flushed, his breaths coming in deep, heavy inhalations as he tried to draw in more of her breast into his mouth.

His hands trembled as they roamed over her body, fingers digging into her possessively. The potency of the potion had his control slipping, his actions becoming more urgent, more demanding. Hips bucked against her, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her core through his trousers. He growled against her skin, the sound primal as he fought to maintain his composure. "You're drivin’ me mad.” The husky groan was deep in his throat as fingertips ran up her thigh. Any chill from the night was forgotten as the magic in their veins warmed their blood, the sole focus being on exactly what was poured into the mixture- pleasure.

He took his time with her, his movements languid and deliberate. His hands caressed her skin like she was a precious artifact, thumbs brushing over her ribs before sliding up to cup her breasts. His mouth followed suit, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against her flesh, tongue lapping at her like she was the finest fruit he could have picked off the trees in her carefully cultivated yard.

Plucking her from the tree, he gently set her down in the plush grass bed he had conjured so he could worship her slowly, starting at her ankles. He kissed each one, then ran his fingers along her calves, behind her knees, up her thighs. He nuzzled the soft flesh of her belly, his hands skimming her hips and waist. He pressed his face between her breasts, inhaling deeply before placing a kiss to each one. “I’ve been waiting all month for this.” He admitted shamelessly, licking between her tits up towards her neck. The shiver ran through her body as he suckled on the skin at the center of her throat, making her breath hitch. “I think it’s time.”

Y/N felt like she was on fire, every nerve ending lit as his tongue ran over her skin. Her skin tingled every place he touched her, and even where he hadn't, as if his presence alone was enough to set her aflame. Her heart raced in her chest, fluttering like a bird in a cage as his hands and mouth roamed over her body. She could feel the heat pooling between her thighs, her core throbbing with a need that was almost painful. “Harry.” She breathed, fingers finding his hair. “You know better than to tease me this much when we’ve taken a vial…”

His chuckle against her neck was warm and low, the vibrations making her squirm. "I know, little goddess." He murmured, voice sultry. Green eyes darkened as he gazed at her. "But I wanted to savor you." To emphasize his point, he took his time again, trailing kisses down her collarbone, between her breasts, down her soft belly until he was kneeling between her thighs. “Is that so wrong?”

His fingers gently parted her, gaze fixed on her face as he slowly leaned down to taste her. She gasped, back arching as his hot mouth closed over her. His hands gripped her thighs, keeping them spread wide as he devoured her like a man starved. The magic had taken full effect, the only thing on their minds being what could get them closer, what could concoct the most pleasure. He was hungry for it, for her as he spread her open for him, letting the moonlight shadow his features as he looked up at her. The heat of his mouth was overwhelming, and she fisted her hands in his hair, hips bucking against his face. "Harry, do not tease me..." She growled. “You know what I like.”

“Shush, Goddess. I take care of you each time. I don’t want to hear your tongue unless it’s moaning or singing my name.” Dark eyes shot her a look of promise. Harry would take care of her. He always did.

His tongue delved deeper, flicking against her clit as he sucked gently. Adding a finger, he curled it to rub against that special spot inside her as he continued to lap at her pussy. The whine that left her throat was a reward, a pulse in his trousers as he stroked over it. The other hand came up to pinch her nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he worked her open with his mouth. The sound of his eating, the wet slurping noises, filled the night air as he feasted on her.

Her head fell back, a guttural moan escaping her lips as his fingers and tongue worked in tandem to drive her wild. Her hips undulated against his face, seeking more of that delicious friction. One hand fisted in his hair, holding him against her as if afraid he'd stop. The other tangled her fingers in the weaved grass, knuckles pale with how hard she was gripping. "Yes, right there..." She whimpered, thighs trembling around his head. “Your tongue is so good, your fingers- keep fucking me like that, Harry.”

He growled against her, the vibrations making her see stars along with the bright moon in the sky above her as he doubled his efforts. Two fingers pumped in and out of her slick hole, curling to hit that spot inside her. His tongue flicked rapidly over her clit, alternating between broad licks and soft suckling. The hand on her breast slid up to wrap around her throat, squeezing lightly. It was just enough pressure to make her feel owned, possessed by the man between her legs.

He pulled back, staring at her. His green eyes glinted hungrily in the dim moonlight, the mix of spit and her glistening on his chin. “I forgot about how much of a mess you make, little Goddess. I think we should add some more, no?” Harry rasped, pursing his lips to spit right over her cunt. The glob of saliva hit her swollen folds and slid downwards, causing her to shiver as she keened, the hand in his head pushing him towards her again. Leaning back down, his tongue lapped at her, spreading the mess as his digits pumped in and out.

His fingers crooked just right inside her, stroking along that sensitive bundle of nerves as his tongue focused on her clit. He could feel her tightening around his digits, her thighs quivering on either side of his head. "Cum for me, my goddess," Harry growled against her flesh, the vibrations pushing her closer to the edge. "Let me feel this sweet cunt spasm on my tongue so I can fuck you. The moon is so bright, I want you to look right at it as you cum for me.”

The words were her undoing. With a moan that echoed through the night, Y/N's back arched off the ground. Her inner walls clamped down on Harry's fingers, pulsing and squeezing as her orgasm ripped through her. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, her vision whiting out as she stared up at the moon. Harry swallowed her cries, his face buried in her cunt as he lapped up her cream.

The potion amplified her orgasm, making it feel like a tidal wave of warmth crashing over her. Each pulse of her pussy around Harry's fingers sent shockwaves through her entire body, making her toes curl and her back arch even further. The magic in the vial seemed to reach inside her and squeezed her for every drop of pleasure. It felt like her entire world had narrowed down to that one spot, her clit and Harry's fingers the only things that existed.

As her body finally stilled and her breathing attempted returning to normal, Harry slowly pulled his fingers out of her. He licked them clean, a smug smile on his face as he watched her sprawled out on the ground, boneless and sated. He stood up, his movements deliberate as he undid his belt and trousers, shoving them down to pool around his ankles. Her pleasure had always been his driving force, but making her orgasm like that was exactly the thing he needed. His cock had something to show for it, hard and ready, as he stepped out of his clothes.

Y/N sat up, recovering quickly from her intense orgasm- all thanks to the damn potion. It would need to be recreated exactly when she got back to her cottage, saved for occasions like this.

Thank the moon for magic.

She looked at Harry, a sly smile on her face as she reached out to tug him down to the grassy bed beside her. He landed with a soft thud, looking up at her with a raised eyebrow. "My turn." The witch purred, climbing on top of him and straddling his hips. She reached between them, wrapping her hand around his thick shaft and guiding it towards her pussy.

Harry let out a low groan as Y/N's hand squeezed around him, her fingers not quite meeting as she stroked him from root to tip. She positioned him at her entrance, her heat caressing the head of him as she slowly sank down, taking him deep inside her. His head fell back against the grass, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He could feel every inch of her as she took him in, her tight heat enveloping him.

The magic coursing through her made every sensation feel magnified and intense, and that was saying something considering sex with Harry without any influence was the best she had. The drag of Harry's prick against her sensitive walls was almost too much to bear. She could feel every ridge and vein, every twitch of him inside her. Her nerve endings were on fire, pleasure sparking through her with each movement. She threw her head back with a moan, her hips starting to roll, riding him with increasing fervor as the magic demanded more.

Watching her ride him, Harry couldn't keep the groan from leaving the back of his throat. Nothing in his life had been more beautiful, more sensual than the witch riding his cock, bathed in moonlight. She was gleaming, nearly glittering as her lust blown eyes peered down at him, nails digging into the inked chest with each roll of her hips. "By the moon, you're fucking beautiful," he rasped, his hands gripping her hips as she set the pace. "Look at you taking me so well, little goddess. You feel amazing." He murmured, his hips lifting to meet hers, driving himself deeper. "I could spend eternity inside you and it still wouldn't be enough. Perfect cunt swallowing me up, hot and precious. I wasn’t going to let you share it with anyone else tonight."

"You're mine," he hissed through gritted teeth as she swiveled her hips, grinding down on him. "No other man gets to feel this. Only me. Say it." His hands squeezed her backside, encouraging her to ride him harder as his own hips thrust up in a matching rhythm. "Say you're only mine, Y/N. Tell me this is just for me."

Their secret little rendezvous had been the best thing to happen to him. Everything he needed, really. Potion or not, his pull towards her was guided and stronger each cycle of the moon and he knew it meant she was his, somehow- some way. They kept it quiet though it was an open secret, but he didn’t want it to be any longer. He wanted the woman to be his.

"I'm yours, Harry. Only yours," Y/N gasped out, her nails raking down his chest as she rode him hard and fast. The magic made her words come true, like a vow sealed in starlight and shadow. "No one else could ever make me feel like this. You're the only one who knows how to touch me, how to make me come undone." Breaths came out in pants as she fucked herself on him, the vibration in her blood making her more desperate for it. She wanted him, wanted him to want her.

Harry's eyes gleamed with triumph and possessiveness as she declared herself his. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down onto his chest as he took over the pace, thrusting up into her with deep, powerful strokes. The magic surged, amplifying every movement until it felt like he was fucking her soul, touching bits he had never even dreamt of before. "Swear by the moon. Tell her that you're mine." He growled, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "My little witch, my perfect little goddess- Swear yourself to me, tell the Moon that you’ve chosen your soul bond. I can not pretend the secret meetings are enough. This is all I crave, day in and day out." He pulled his face up to hers, meeting her eyes. “Proclaim it.”

"I... I choose you, Harry," Y/N stammered out, her voice hitching as he drove up into her, the hard ridges of his abs rubbing against her sensitive clit. "By the moon, I choose you. No other... only you. You're my soul bond, my moon and stars. I swear it." The magic thrummed through her veins, sealing her oath.

It all made sense now.

Harry's eyes flashed with dark fire as she swore herself to him. He crushed his mouth to hers, his kiss searing and dominating. His hands gripped her ass tightly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he powered into her, his pace growing harder, faster. He growled against her mouth, "Yes... My little goddess. Say it again. Tell me you're mine." The magic pulsed around them, mirroring the rhythm of their bodies.

"I'm yours, Harry," Y/N whimpered out between kisses, her voice breaking as the pleasure consumed her. "I'm yours, forever and always. Only yours." Her body began to shake, her orgasm building to a crescendo as he pounded into her. The moon hung low in the sky, watching over them as they made their sacred vow. Harry's thrusts became erratic, his own release looming as he heard her declare herself his.

"And I am yours, by the light of the moon," Harry declared, his voice flowing out into the night. "Y/N, my witch, my goddess, you are mine and I am yours, now and forever. By the power of the celestial bodies….” He panted, looking up at her with hooded eyes. “By the magic that binds us, I proclaim myself your soul bond, your half, your everything." It was too much. Feeling the beginnings of her orgasm, feeling the soul bond snap into place, finally getting the confirmation that she was his as much as he was hers, it was overwhelming. His body felt every bit of it, pleasure thrumming through him as he broke. Thrusting up into her one last time, he held himself deep as his orgasm ripped through him.

Harry's declaration pushed Y/N over the edge. She threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back as she cried out his name as the feeling overtook her. Her cunt tightened around him, milking him for all he was worth as her body trembled with pleasure that was unheard of for her, even with the vials. This was something new, something raw and real and she hadn’t even anticipated it feeling this good. But perhaps it wasn’t just the potion, but the man she was with instead. Stars burst behind her eyes, and she could've sworn she heard the moon sing approval as their bond snapped into place, sealing them together.

Harry's arms pulled her down her as she convulsed on top of him, his own body shuddering with aftershocks, holding her to his body to soothe her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his hot breath tickling her skin. "My Y/N." He murmured softly, his voice laced with a newfound sense of possession and an underpainting of love. "My moonlit obsession, my forever girl." He kissed her neck gently, his hands stroking her back soothingly.

His gentle touches and murmured words slowly brought Y/N back down to earth, catching her soul before it went too far up to the stars. She sagged against him, her body heavy and sated, her limbs like jelly. He supported her weight effortlessly, his strong arms wrapped protectively around her. "Shh, it's alright, little goddess," he whispered, his voice a hushed rumble against her ear. "I've got you. You're safe.”

Y/N's body continued to tremble slightly in the aftermath, her heart racing. She clutched at Harry, her fingers digging into his shoulders as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly become liquid and shimmering around her. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, not from sadness but from the sheer overwhelming intensity of what she had just experienced.

Harry noticed her trembling and gently wiped away her tears with his thumbs, his touch infinitely tender. He began to press soft kisses all over her face - her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her chin, her tear-stained cheeks again. Each kiss was a silent promise, a whispered I love you against her skin. He murmured soothingly, "That's it, my love. Calm. You're alright. I've got you."

Y/N's bleary, tear-streaked smile was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen. It was a smile of pure trust, of complete surrender, of utter contentment. They’d been playing cat and mouse for far too long. This had always been their fate. She looked up at him with eyes that shone like the moon herself, her gaze filled with adoration as she looked down at him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she held him close as if she never wanted to let go, sagging into him as she trailed chaste kisses over his sweat damp neck.

Harry nuzzled into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed as she marked him with her gentle pecks. He turned his head, pulling hers up to capture her lips in a soft, sweet kiss. It was a far cry from the dominant, claiming kiss they had shared earlier. This was a promise, a declaration of love in its purest form. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers as he looked deep into her eyes. "We're bonded.”

Y/N's eyes widened at his words, a fresh wave of tears spilling down her cheeks, but this time they were tears of joy. She nodded, a shaky smile spreading across her face. "I felt it." she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. "It was like... like a piece of my soul clicking into place with yours." She placed a hand over his heart, feeling it beat in sync with her own.

For so long, they had danced around their feelings, afraid to voice them aloud, afraid to ruin the delicate balance of their dynamic. But the magic sent by the moon was meant to bring them together, to force them to confront the truth. And as they sat there, hearts pounding in sync, they both knew that there was no going back. They were meant to be, and the moon had spoken.

"No more dancing around, yeah?" Harry said softly, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "No more tiptoeing, no more 'what ifs' and 'maybes'." He leaned in, kissing her deeply, pouring all his unspoken feelings into the kiss. When he pulled back, Y/N was breathless, her eyes dazed. "And I think it goes without saying… M’the only one you’ll be testing these potions with from now on.”

[sceletaflores]

it’s the easiest thing (just love me and eat me)

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 6.1k

anon says: nat pls speak on sub!logan...people are hating on the sub!logan agenda and someone needs to show them that they're wrong and it can be done cuz if anyone can convince them it's you mommy!

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, crimson! again! she's back!, slight angst, swearing, violence, light gore, somewhat dark content, religious symbolism? (idk this one got weird babes), established relationship, lowkey a toxic relationship but you didn't hear that from me, sub!logan-ish, handjob, p in v, slow sex turned rough, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, pain kink, scent kink, blood play, blood...eating (drinking? idk), porn with a tiny bit of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: anon i'm so sorry this took me so long...i hope it was worth the wait! it started as a short smutty drabble that somehow turned into…this? idk it got out of hand so fast. i am a proud member of the sub!logan nation but that's mostly because i think that ALL men have the potential for sub vibes like doesn't matter who he is if i want to fuck him he's probably a little subby. special shout out to my baby boo and fellow sub!logan truther @avocado-writing <3 tysm for sharing anon! xoxo mwah.

dividers by icon @saradika-graphics!

psst! want more logan and crimson? here's the to the bone au masterlist!

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

The team had a big scare earlier in the day.

It was supposed to be an easy mission, bust a mutant trafficking ring in Albany. You do assignments like these every week, and as sick as it sounds, it’s almost routine.

But this one was different. It was an ambush, and you were compromised.

Only humans, but they were smart. Waited until the team split up to attack. They had tech, things you'd never seen before.

Big guns loaded with tiny darts full of an ominous red liquid.

It was your fault really. You didn't clear your surroundings, so focused on getting to the kids that you let yourself get sloppy.

The tiny sting in your back barely registered, you don't think you would have even noticed if it didn't kick in so fast.

You'd never felt anything like it before in your life.

It didn't hurt. The rush of pain you braced yourself for never coming.

The sensation was strange—like your body was shutting down, piece by piece. You fell to your knees, shaky legs folding under you in less than a second.

You felt empty, wrong. An eerie silence trickling in to fill your insides.

Panic bubbled beneath your skin, but you were too numb to feel it. Trapped in the mounting weight of your limbs, the slow blink of your eyes, the shortness of breath despite hardly moving.

Your hand slipped across the gritty cement, reaching for support that wasn't there.

That was when you saw it, the shock of it was enough for your heart to drop. Your skin, blanched and sallow, the veins in your arms black and spreading like spilled ink.

You tried to fight it, tried to will your body to move, to react, to do something. You had to get up. You had to. The kids.

As hard as you willed yourself, there was nothing. It was like your body wasn't your own, like it had become something completely foreign.

You could barely make out the tiny voices calling for you. Pleading, frantic yelps of your name fading into a dull hum as everything went hazy. The edges of your vision blurring into a narrow tunnel.

He stepped in front of you, the same one who shot you. A cynical grin on his face and collar in his hand. You'd seen collars like it before, used on mutants to muzzle their abilities, to weaken them.

You tried, fingers barely twitching by your. Nothing. Just another shock of that cold, unfamiliar feeling shooting through your body.

“Got a big one, boss.” The man boasted into a comm strapped to his wrist, his voice sharp and grating. He took a single step towards you, smug grin still stretched across his face. “Yeah, real nice lookin' one too. She'll sell for—“

A muddy roar pulsed through the molasses filled haze of your ears, six claws flying through the air to embed themselves on either side of the man's skull with a wet, stomach-churning sound.

The collar dropped from his slackened grip with a dull bang, shattering into different pieces that slid across the floor haphazardly. A mess of wires and metal.

There were rushed footsteps before he dropped to his knees in front of you, his torso bathed in a dull glow from the overhead lights yellow shine.

There was blood splattered across the side of his face, slicking the front of his suit enough to reflect light off the leather.

Logan, perched in front of you like an angel.

Not one with a golden halo and a harp, but a indescribable mess of eyes and wings looming over you calling 'be not afraid'.

You'd never seen him so shaken before. All wide-eyed and pale as he checked you over for any major injuries. His breath coming in short bursts, hands frantic and shaky as they skated along your body for the viscosity of blood or uneven shift of a break.

He refused to let you even try and walk on your own, swept you off the floor and cradled your trembling body to his chest as he called for help. The beat of his heart was fast beneath your cheek, strong enough that you could feel it even through the thick leather of his suit.

You buried your face deeper in the crook of his neck, the pit in your stomach barely warmed by the feel of him. His scent is strongest there, so much so that in a room full of spilled blood, you could only smell him.

He was careless stepping over clawed up bodies littering the floor like a messy maze of twitching limbs and entrails. You didn't even know there was more than one guard in the room.

The evidence of his love for you, of his devotion, oozing red on the concrete.

Logan didn't even give the carnage a sideways glance as he raced you outside, back to the jet.

Trusting Scott and Jean to take over getting the kids out. The unsteady murmurs he pressed to the top of your head the last thing you heard before there was nothing.

You woke up six hours later.

The sterile hum of medical equipment was the first thing you heard. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled your nostrils, and the faint pressure of a needle in your arm confirmed that you were hooked up to an IV. 

Your muscles felt heavy, like someone had filled them with lead. But you were alive.

You could feel your body working overtime, fixing itself. The sickening shift of your insides falling back into place. 

It took a few more moments for you to realize you weren’t alone.

A low, familiar rumble caught your attention. You turned your head to see Logan slumped in a chair by the bedside, his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His hair was mussed, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion. 

He looked different, smaller, as though the weight of what happened was pressing down on him, making him fold in on himself.

You’d seen him bloody, beaten, on the verge of death, but you’d never seen him like this–completely and utterly human.

Your throat was too dry to speak, but a small sound escaped you, and Logan's head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and in a heartbeat, he was at your side, his large hands hovering over you, unsure where to touch, like he was afraid you’d shatter under his fingers.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. His voice was hoarse, cracked with a mixture of relief and something else, something deeper. His eyes darted over your face, your arms, as if memorizing every detail just to make sure you were real.

“I'm sorry,” you managed, your voice barely more than a rasp.

Logan's eyebrows furrowed, the lines in his forehead deepening. "What the hell are you apologizing for?" His voice was gruff, but there was a tenderness beneath it. A gentleness he only reserved for you.

Your lips cracked into a weak smile. "It was my fault. I messed up."

A growl rumbled low in his chest, and you could feel the anger simmering just beneath his skin, not at you but at the situation, at whoever had dared to hurt you.

“Don’t,” he said, voice like gravel. “Don't start, none of this is on you.” His voice softened slightly as he leaned closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “What matters is you’re here.”

The reassurance wrapped around you like a warm blanket, grounding you.

Logan’s thumb traced the line of your jaw, his touch sending a spark of warmth through your veins. “When I saw you on the floor like that…I thought—” He shook his head, jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet your gaze again. “I thought I lost you.”

Your fingers twitched slightly, managing to catch his wrist, squeezing it with what little strength you had. “I’m right here,” you said softly, voice clearer than before. “I’m okay.”

Logan’s gaze softened again as he looked down at your hand, his rough exterior cracking just a little more. He gently pried your fingers from his wrist and pressed your hand to his chest, right over his heart. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”

You tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a breathless huff. “Didn’t mean to.”

He shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You never do.”

You were fine an hour later. 

The color of your skin had returned, glossy and like new. The hollow emptiness inside of you long gone. Your abilities passed every test Charles threw your way with flying colors.

Fully recovered and finally excused from the med-bay after Hank and Jean checked you over one last time, you were given your strict marching orders in the form of extra fluids and bed rest, no matter how much you argued that you were fine.

Your health was the last thing on your mind, just a distant phantom ache each time your eyes would find Logan.

He was still shaken up, even after all the reassurance from Charles and Hank. He kept close the rest of the day, hovering, his presence more protective than usual, but he didn’t talk much.

You could see it in the way he moved, slower, less sure, like he was carrying around something too heavy to shake off. It lingered in the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands flexed as though still looking for something to fight, to protect you from.

It wasn’t hard to guess what it was. 

You hated seeing him like this, burdened by a guilt he didn’t deserve. 

It gnawed at you, that heaviness. The way he started to shut down, to close himself off in the face of fear. It was the only way he knew how to cope.

After seeing him like that, bed rest was the last thing on your mind.

You knew Logan. Knew what he needed when his thoughts got tangled up like this, dragging him under. He wasn't the type to sit and talk through it, not easily anyway. 

And even though you know he’d never ask for it himself, you knew what he needed—to be reminded, physically, that you were still here, still his.

Later that night, when the mansion had quieted and the others were tucked away in their rooms, you found him exactly where you thought you’d find him—in the room you shared, sitting on the edge of the bed. The yellow light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across his face, the tension in his jaw still there.

A frown tugged the corners of your mouth as you moved towards him, catching his attention with the rustle of the sheets as you sat next to him.

“Logan,” you say softly, breaking the stillness. He doesn't respond, only the slightest twitch in his shoulders indicating he even heard you. “Hey,” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time.

He turns his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile, the crease between his brows, weariness etched into his features.

But he still doesn't speak.

You shift, moving closer until your fingers brush his arm, the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of his shirt. “Look at me,” you whisper, and finally, his gaze lifts to meet yours, guarded and pained. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Logan shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run it through his already messy hair. “You could’ve died,” he bites out, tone rough and low. “We should've never fuckin' split up. I should’ve been there faster, sooner. I should’ve–”

“Logan.” Your voice cut through his, sharper than you meant it to. You catch his hand in yours, thumb brushing against the pulse point of his wrist. “You saved me, I’m not going anywhere. I need you to hear that.”

He meets your gaze then, eyes dark with something vulnerable, something raw. He nods weakly, like he only half-believes it. You can still see the hesitation swirling through his eyes, the reluctance in the stiffness of his muscles against yours.

He needs something more than words, something to bring him back to you.

With that, you move to straddle his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His body stiffens under yours, his breath hitching slightly as his hands fall to your waist almost instinctively.

“Hold on,” Logan starts, tone hesitant and hands light as they hover over your hips like he’s still scared to touch you. “You heard what Hank said–”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, finality lacing your tone and leaving no room for argument. You reach down, taking his hand in yours and bringing it up to press flat directly over your heart. The very same way he did your first night together. "Can you feel me?”

The question hangs between you, soft but weighted with purpose.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat, fingers splaying wider across your chest. The heat of his palm sinks through to your skin, lighting a fire in you. 

The steady beat of your heart under his touch is an undeniable reminder–alive, strong, with him. You can feel him relax, just a touch.

The tension in his muscles breaking down beneath you piece by piece as the rhythm grounds him, helps to pull him out of his spiral.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, barely audible. His eyes drop to where his hand rests, his thumb absently grazing the space just above your sternum. “I feel you.”

“Then trust it,” you murmur. “Trust me.”

A deep, slow breath escapes him, and something in his eyes softens just enough. You lean closer, your fingers trailing up his arms, over his shoulders, until they thread into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

You smile softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He sighs deeply, leaning into your touch like a dog starved of attention from its master. His grip on your waist finally tightens, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to feel that edge of need—the need to let go.

“You’ve been taking care of me all day,” you murmur, scratching your nails along his scalp softly. “Now let me take care of you.”

You feel him shudder, a weak groan escaping from his slack lips. His hazy eyes search your face, pupils blown out and seeping into the warm hazel color like an oil spill over a lake.

You tilt your head, lips grazing the stubble on his jawline, moving slowly, deliberately, until you can capture his mouth in a kiss.

It’s soft at first, gentle, but you feel him melt into it, the sharp edge of his restraint crumbling as he kisses you back with a kind of hunger that fuels you.

Logan’s hands slide up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as you take control, deepening the kiss, coaxing him further into the moment.

His mouth is warm and wet and urgent against yours, the scrape of his teeth along your bottom lip sends a thrill down your spine. 

His lips move over yours with a reverence that makes your chest tighten, as if each slick glide of your lips together is an apology, a promise, and a plea all rolled into one.

But you don’t want his apologies. You want his surrender.

His breath stutters in his chest when your fingers twist in his hair, tugging just enough to remind him who’s in charge tonight.

When your hand finds his chest, pushing him down gently, he goes without protest. His eyes never leave yours as he settles against the pillows, following your every movement as you crawl closer.

Climbing over him to perch on top of his thighs, you waste no time in reaching for the hem of his shirt, gently tugging on it in a silent question. Logan’s breath comes in shallow puffs as he nods, fingers twitching on your hips. 

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls under the tips of your fingers, the sharp intake of air when your hands ghost across the skin of his lower stomach as you lift his shirt up and over his head.

You toss it over your shoulder carelessly, it lands with a muted thump somewhere behind you, leaving his chest bare. His muscles taut and rippling as he forces himself to stay still, the dim light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours along his torso.

You take a moment to just admire him, trailing your fingers along the familiar planes of his skin. Your touch is feather light, tracing over the spots that should be littered in scars. 

The place in his shoulder where he got shot two weeks back, or where the loose shrapnel that embedded itself in his side on the last mission should be, or the skin where his shoulder meets his neck after you dug your teeth into it hard enough to bleed a few nights ago.

The way his body responds to you makes your pulse quicken—the way he finally relaxes completely under your touch, melting into the mattress. 

You continue your path down, fingers slipping through the ridges of his abs, scratching your nails through the dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his bottoms teasingly. The muscles of his stomach jump under your touch, the power of his need thrumming beneath your touch.

You drag your hand over the hard length of him, his cock thick and hot as it twitches beneath your fingers. There’s a sharp hiss bleeding through grit teeth as his hips twitch up off the mattress ever so slightly.

You lean forward, hiding a small smirk in the crook of his neck. “Logan,” you whisper, voice dripping with intent, “I want you to beg for it.”

A deep, guttural growl rumbles through his chest. It shakes your body like thunder, finding a home between your thighs. Logan’s head falls back against the pillows, exposing the tan column of his throat to your hungry gaze.

It’s almost immediate, your reaction, your bodies reaction. The pulse of your blood starts to simmer with that telltale heat, slowly bubbling beneath your skin in anticipation.

Your gaze traces along where the vein of his jugular presses against his skin enticingly, barely suppressing a full body shiver at the sight.

You slip your index and middle finger beneath his waistband, brushing against his hard cock with barely any pressure. His hips buck up again, seeking more friction, but you pull back slightly, making him chase it.

“I said beg, Logan,” you murmur, your voice low, teasing, a sharp edge to it now. Your free hand comes up, gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at you.

His eyes, dark and blown wide with lust, meet yours, and you can see the war raging inside him—the urge to dominate, to take control—but then he’s giving in to you, surrendering so beautifully.

“Goddamn,” he rasps quietly, his voice rough, broken. It’s barely a word, more of a growl torn from his throat. He bites it out, quiet and foreign sounding coming from his tongue. “Please, I need—”

“Good boy,” you purr, and finally, drag the soaked fabric of his bottoms down. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach lewdly.

You moan softly, deftly wrapping your fist around him loosely. Logan groans, you swear you can hear his teeth grind together at the first feeling of your touch where he wants it most.

He’s scalding to the touch, velvety skin throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Rock-hard and flushed an angry red, darkening even more the closer you get to the tip.

You keep the pace of your strokes tortuously slow, letting him feel every movement, teasing him. It’s addictive, watching the way he starts to unravel beneath you at the slightest touch.

His legs kick out against the mattress minutely, hands falling from your hips to grip the sheets as hard as he can in a failing attempt to calm himself.

You lean down, slick lips brushing against his as you speak, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you tonight, aren't you?”

Logan nods, his breath coming in quick pants, his sweaty chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yes,” he chokes out, eyes brimming with need. “Fuck, do whatever you want, baby. I’m yours.”

The usual dominance he carries like a second skin has been peeled away, leaving him vulnerable, laid out beneath you, at your mercy.

Your hand speeds up, grip tightening as you twist your wrist over his leaking tip. Your knuckles shine with pre-come, slick from the gratuitous amount of wetness steadily drooling out.

“You’re being so good for me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice soft and laced with praise. “So good, letting me take care of you like this.”

His response is a loud moan, his hips arching up off the bed, but you’re quick to press them down with your free arm, your thighs tightening around him.

“Not yet,” you warn, strength on display as you stop his movements. “You’ll come when I say.”

A strangled sound escapes him, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, and it sends a thrill through you. He’s right there, teetering on the edge, but he’s holding on—for you.

“Poor thing,” you mumble, idly pressing your thumb into his slit, gathering the precome there to spread it along the flushed crown. “So hard, so needy for me.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Logan whines, his head tipping back against the pillows a second times, eyes squeezing shut tighten enough to wrinkle the skin around them.

You smile, your nails digging into his chest as you shift, positioning yourself above him. The heat between your legs is unbearable now, slick all along your inner thighs as it pools from your aching cunt, drenching the soft cotton of your panties.

So desperate to be stretched around Logan’s cock, to be filled the only way he can. You roll your hips forward, the hard jut of his cock sliding through the sticky mess of your panties.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, loud and hoarse. “Fuck, give it to me, I’m ready–”

You press your finger to his lips, silencing him as you hover over him. “Not yet,” you whisper, a wicked grin on your face as you slide your panties to the side and take him in your hand, letting the tip brush against your soaked entrance, still not giving him what he craves.

Your own patience is starting to run thin, but the sound of his begging is too good.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” you say, your voice sharp and commanding as you rub the tip of him along your cunt, teasing. “Tell me what you need.”

He’s trembling beneath you, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you sink down slightly, barely letting him inside. "Please, darlin'," he groans, voice rough with need. "I need to feel you—need you so fuckin’ bad."

You finally give in, sinking down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion.

His body jerks beneath you, a choked growl spilling from his lips as you take him in, inch by inch. You don’t stop until he’s buried deep inside you, your walls clenching around him as you settle into his lap.

The feeling is overwhelming, the stretch, the heat, the way he fills you completely.

You both groan at the same time, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you roll your hips, savoring the way he pulses inside you, how his entire body reacts to every little movement.

“God, you’re so big,” you whisper, your voice heavy with lust as you look down at where your bodies meet. “You gonna be a good boy and let me ride you?”

“Fuck,” he grits, voice like gravel crunching underfoot.

His hands slide up your back, desperate and needy as they cradle the back of your head softly. “I’d kill them all,” he pants, lips messily searching for your own, desperate for more frantic kisses. “Fuckin’ all of them, all for you.”

You moan loud and unabashed, eyes screwing shut as your nails rake down his chest hard enough to break the skin. The smell of his blood breaks through the air, heady and sharp. He throws his head back, a broken gasp dragged out of him as his hips speed up.

You think back to the room in the warehouse, the floor slick with stray remains and viscera. Think back to him lifting you to his chest, of the blood spattered across his suit and face slipping against your own clammy skin.

Flashes of Logan running to you like a loyal livestock dog, covered in the blood of any wolf that dares attack his precious sheep. Staining the white of your wool red with the righteous wrath of his sacrifice. 

You roll your hips faster, bouncing with enough force to have you crying out. The tight suction of your walls pulling him as deep as he can get at this angle.

The coarse hair along his stomach drags against your throbbing clit, making white hot sparks of pleasure zing up your spine to light up each vertebrae. 

Logan presses his forehead to your chest, hot breath puffing out over your sweaty neck. You tilt your head to the side almost subconsciously, bearing more of yourself to him.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he admits weakly, blunt nails digging into your skin sharp enough to sting. “Feels so good, so fuckin' good."

He trails off, face pinched with ecstasy as he gazes up at you. You smile, rolling your hips slowly, tiny figure eights that let you feel every inch of him pressing against your walls.

“You're not supposed to hold back," you whisper, your voice thick with need as you lean down, kissing along his jawline. "I want you to let go, Logan."

His eyes snap open, the hazel gone wild and desperate, and it’s like you can see the exact moment he breaks. The tiniest shred of self control finally crumbling under the weight of his instincts. With a low, feral growl, he surges up.

You’re on your back quicker than you can blink, stomach surging with it. You hardly have any time to react, Logan punching all the air out of your lungs as he sets a brutal pace.

The sudden intensity has you gasping, your body jolting as he takes over, fucking you like his life depends on it. 

Each thrust is hard and deep, hitting the spot inside of you, over and over again until you’re a trembling mess above him, moaning his name, your nails digging into his chest.

Logan’s grip on you is ironclad, pulling you back onto him harder, faster, his breaths coming out in ragged pants as he loses himself completely in the heat of your body.

"That's it," you pant, feeling the way your body tightens around him, the tension building deep inside you. "Fuck, Logan, just like that—"

He growls again, the sound vibrating through his chest as he slams into you harder, his pace relentless. You can feel the sweat slick between your bodies, hear the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies coming together as his control snaps completely.

“Mine,” he growls between thrusts, voice low and rough as he pounds into you, his eyes locked on yours, full of possessive need. "All fuckin’ mine."

Your body responds to his words, tightening around him as your orgasm builds, every nerve in your body on fire. "Yes," you gasp, your voice barely more than a broken moan as he hits that perfect spot again and again. "Yours—only yours."

Slowly, deliberately, you bring your hand to your mouth, biting down on the pad of your thumb hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

The scent of iron fills the space between you, mixing with the musk of sex and sweat. Logan’s nostrils flare as he takes in the scent, his pupils dilating further, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You raise your thumb to his mouth, sliding it along his bottom lip to leave behind a thin trail of red. “Suck,” you whisper softly, pressing your thumb into his mouth ever so slightly. 

And he does, without hesitation. 

Logan’s lips part, and he pulls your thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the taste of your blood. The look in his eyes as he does sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

The pure devotion of the act thickening the air around you to coil the spring of pleasure winding in your lower stomach tighter.

You groan, your own restraint folding like a house of cards as you drag your nose down the column of his throat, stopping right at the base. You press a quick kiss over the rapid fluttering of his pulse before you bite down, hard.

Logan keens around your thumb, teeth digging into your skin roughly as his blood floods your mouth. 

You get lost in it, the familiar taste of him seeping onto your tongue as his cock jerks and pulses in your clenching cunt. Getting lost in the way you can feel the rhythm of his heart against your lips, each strong beat sending more blood pumping out to leak along your taste buds.

You press your chest to his, not leaving an inch of space between you. It’s still not enough, it will never be enough.

You need more, so much more.

You want to encompass him completely, to be encompassed by him.

You want to dig your hands into his skin–to peel back each layer of flesh and fat and muscle, snap each of his ribs back so you can bury yourself in the cavity of his chest before you bend them back into place. Burrowing yourself deep enough inside him to watch him heal all around you, to watch his skin stitch itself back together.

It’s a sick feeling, the need to take and take until he has no more left to give. Sick and all consuming, lighting you up like the raging flames of a forest fire that destroys everything in its path. 

When you finally pull your hand away from his mouth, he lets out a breathless moan, and you lean down to press your lips against his in a bruising kiss.

The coppery tang of your blood lingers between you, mixing with Logan’s as your teeth clash together violently, as you devour him, pouring every ounce of your control into the kiss.

You press your palm to his chest, powers surging to life over his heart. You don't need to open your eyes to see what you leave behind, the red and blue pulse of his blood lighting up beneath his skin like the neon sign hanging outside his favorite bar.

Logan moans into your mouth, tongue dragging along the point of your canines. "Don't stop," he pleads, “Please, baby, don’t fuckin’ stop.”

You can feel the energy coursing between you, a tangible thing that's threading itself between your fingers. It’s intoxicating, a connection deeper than flesh, a binding of souls fueled by blood and lust. You lean into the heat radiating from him, urging your energy to flow freely, wrapping it around his heart like a warm embrace.

“Logan,” you whisper breathily, breaking the kiss just enough to look into his wild, pleading eyes. “You feel that? You and me, we’re connected.”

“I feel it, honey,” he groans, bucking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper. “You’re everywhere. It’s all I can think about all the goddamn time, drives me fuckin’ crazy.” His words tumble from his lips, raw and unfiltered, sending another thrill of desire through you.

You whine, head tipping back to the ceiling. Drunk of the feeling of him, of his cock, of his blood on your teeth.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church.

There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of him like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship.

Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion.

The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. 

His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. 

The sound of your name falling from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered.

You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. His blood, mixing with yours on your tongue feels like a sacrament—an unholy communion.

The air between you crackles with heat, your bodies moving together in perfect sync, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. Logan’s head tilts back, his mouth open in a silent scream as he claws at your hips, pulling you down harder, deeper.

“I’m close,” he groans, his voice strained, desperate. “Please—fuck—I need to—”

You reach up quickly, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “Look at me when you fuck me,” you demand, your voice sharp, dripping with authority. “I want you to watch me when you come.”

That’s all it takes.

 Logan’s entire body goes taut, a strangled roar tearing from his throat as he buries himself inside you one last time, the force of his release crashing through him. The hot spray of his come floods your insides, drenching your walls in thick spurts of white. 

His hands grip you so tightly you’re sure there’ll be bruises blooming later, but you don’t care. You wish they wouldn’t fade. You want them. You want to wear his mark, to feel the evidence of this moment lingering on your skin long after it’s over.

His hips don’t stop even as he comes, a sharp cry ripping its way from his throat as he keeps fucking you, pumping you full of him like he can’t stop. 

When you feel him start to lose control like that, feel the frantic twitch of his cock inside you, you finally let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. The force of it rips a scream from your throat as you clench around him, your body spasming with the intensity of it.

Your abused cunt gushes around his cock to seep into the mattress, soaking both the sheets and his lower body all at once as you let out a weak mutter of his name.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged, uneven breathing between you as you both come down from the high. Logan collapses on the bed, arms circling your waist to drag you along with him. His cock stays inside of you, plugging you full of his come.

Your body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. 

Logan is warm and grounding under you, soft and lax. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your cheek, and you press a soft kiss to the skin there, a silent reminder.

His hand comes up to thread through your hair, his touch gentle now, his body relaxed in a way that it wasn’t before.

“I love you,” he whispers against the crown of your head, his voice soft, vulnerable in a way that makes your heartache.

You smile, soft and secretive in the valley of his pecs, “I love you too.”

It’s a quiet admission, the first time you’ve ever said that to each other with words. The first time you both felt the need to, because it’s nothing you didn’t already know.

Your blood dripping from his teeth lays the same claim over you as his come dripping down your thighs.

It means you're his, and he’s yours.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[jinhyun]

—where we left off.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, very slight drama, pining, non-idol au, best friend’s brother au

word count: 7.4k

summary: spending new years’s eve at a club with your best friend’s brother and his friends sounded like a lot of fun. that until a certain girl felt like fighting you for him, and suddenly spending the countdown back at your place, just the two of you, sounded so much better.

warnings: mentions of alcohol

author’s note: hellooo, don’t come for me, as usual i couldn’t control myself lmao. this is kind of like part 5.2 of my social media au “heart out”, in case anyone who doesn’t follow the story comes across this one shot. i hope this manages to give you all some more context of what was going on behind the texts, and i hope you all enjoy! if you do please don’t forget to leave an ask or a comment with your thoughts on it<3

“You’re kidding”.

A single chuckle was heard in the hallway, where Hyunjin stood holding up a quite long puffer jacket of his for you to wear.

It was comical, actually — how you had opened the door for him with a smile adorning your face, only for it to be erased the second he flaunted the jacket in your face and you were hit with the fact that he was indeed not kidding when he told you earlier that day that he’d bring you a jacket if you decided you weren’t wearing one.

A part of him regretted it as soon as he saw you. You looked beautiful. You always did, but the dress you decided to wear that night could only make him feel like not taking his eyes off of you for even just a second; wishing he could throw the jacket to the side and act like he hadn’t brought it in the first place.

The most rational part of him, the one that could still manage to control himself around you, however, made him stand his ground. As stunning as you looked, the weather outside was just too cold for you to wear only a dress.

“As you can see,” he wiggled the piece of clothing in his hands. “I am not”.

“You really expect me to wear that?” You raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Unless you want to go get a puffer jacket of your own, yes”.

Rolling your eyes, you took a step outside your apartment and closed the door behind you, sliding your purse down your arm before you took his coat from him. “Whatever, I’m taking it off as soon as I enter the restaurant anyway”.

Holding your purse for you while you put the jacket on, Hyunjin couldn’t help but smile at the sight in front. You wearing his clothes made him feel something he had not quite felt before, and he could only rejoice in it and take it one step further by zipping the jacket up until it was covering your chin.

“I look ridiculous” you stated.

“You look cute” he reassured you, handing you your bag.

“You look handsome though, and I’m not matching your vibe anymore” you fought him once more, completely unaware of the power your first statement had over him.

Having to clear his throat in order to conceive the butterflies in his stomach, he gestured to the stairs, so you would start walking towards them.

“Let’s go” he said. “You can match my vibe when you take it off at dinner”.

The moment you stepped a foot outside, you were thankful that he forced you to wear it, but he wouldn’t catch you admitting it out loud, of course. Not like he needed you to anyway, for one look at you and the way you were hugging yourself while you waited for the taxi he called to pull over, was enough for him to smile proudly to himself.

And then, when you arrived to the restaurant and you didn’t immediately take it off like you claimed you would, he knew you’d found comfort in the warmth it was providing you with.

One of his friends spotted him from their table and waved at him, catching his attention, and only then, when you were walking towards a group of at least ten people, you began to feel nervous. It only intensified when you reached them and all their eyes focused on both of you.

Greeting everyone with a small bow, you walked around the table after Hyunjin motioned for you to go before him.

Thankfully, Han and Minho had saved two seats in between them, so you’d end up sitting in between Hyunjin and either one of them instead of next to any of their other friends you didn’t know.

As soon as you reached the empty seats, you threw Hyunjin a taunting smile.

“May I take this off now?” You motioned at the jacket he made you wear.

Hyunjin laughed, nodding his head and reaching out to help you slide it off your arms. “You’re putting it back on as soon as we’re done here, though”.

You visibly rolled your eyes at him, earning another light laugh of his as he placed it on the chair in front of him, and then pulled it out for you to sit down. It took you a second to get it, only doing so when his eyes met yours and he nodded his head towards the seat for you to sit down on.

You smiled sweetly, doing as told and then quietly thanking him when he took a seat next to you.

You realised then that, much to your relief, you had already been introduced to most of the people in there, thanks to that one birthday party they threw Hyunjin a few years ago, and some others you had seen on two or three of his social media posts.

The only new faces were two guys sitting by the left and a brunette sitting in front of you, right next to Haeun, a really nice girl you remembered talking to back at Hyunjin’s surprise party.

“Did you guys order already?” Hyunjin asked.

“Not yet,” Minho replied, handing him the menu. “But we already know what we’re ordering, so you better make up your mind fast”.

Chuckling under his breath, Hyunjin placed the menu in front of the two of you while his friends called the waiter to start ordering, so you could check out your options.

“Would it be too basic of me to just order tteokbokki?” You mumbled for only him to hear, still staring at the menu after having gone through everything in it. “Although donkatsu does sound really good right now”.

“The donkatsu here is amazing so I had that in mind, but now I’m torn between tteokbokki as well” he confessed with a breathy laugh, earning a chuckle from you.

“Should we order both and share them?” You proposed, looking up to him and watching a bright smile show on his face.

“Yeah, let’s do that”.

Sitting up straight right as everyone else was done ordering, Hyunjin handed the menu back to the waiter and proceeded to order what the two of you agreed on.

As soon as the waiter left, you felt all eyes fall on the two of you.

“So when were you telling us you got yourself a girlfriend?” One the guys you had never seen before asked him right away.

Hyunjin almost choked on air, feeling his face heat up while everyone stared at the two of you and you looked nearly frozen over that question.

“I’m not…” you began, looking over at Hyunjin as you didn’t really know what else to say.

“She’s Yeji’s best friend” Hyunjin finished your point.

“Oh? You guys must be very close then for you to bring her without your sister” Jihoo, if you remembered the name correctly, asked this time with a teasing smirk.

“Yeji’s out of town and Hyunie didn’t want me to spend new year’s eve alone” you explained.

“Yeah, I can tell you guys aren’t that close” the girl next to Haeun stated, her eyes going from you to Hyunjin. “Hyunjin hates being called Hyunie”.

“We are close, though” Hyunjin corrected her in a heartbeat. Had she not just seen you arrive together while you wore his jacket? “She can call me whatever she wants”.

Your head turned to Han next to you, who couldn’t hold back a snort and ended up choking on his water.

“Oh, so he’s like a little brother to you?” She asked you directly this time, and you managed to catch the not very subtle nudge Haeun gave her to shut up. “Is that why you call him that?”

“Can we talk about something else?” Han spoke before you could answer, having managed to catch his breath surprisingly fast. “Hyunjin’s love life has never been that interesting anyway”.

Although earning himself a smack from Hyunjin, it was enough to make the whole table laugh and move on to another topic — one that didn’t have to do with your and Hyunjin’s relationship status, and one that would definitely not end up with you possibly confirming to him that you saw him as a little brother. He really had to thank Han for that one.

The rest of the dinner went smoothly. Hyunjin’s friends were a lot of fun, you soon realised, to the point you found yourself laughing so much that you were able to ignore the nasty looks the girl in front of you —whose name you later found out was Dahye— would give you anytime you interacted with Hyunjin; which, considering he was sitting next to you and on top of that he was sharing dishes with you, were a lot.

It wouldn’t take a genius to understand that she was into Hyunjin and that it might be a problem that night given he had arrived with you, but you had more important things to care about rather than to pay attention to her anyway, like making sure you’d get along with Hyunjin’s friends so he wouldn’t feel like he had to check up on you to see if you were having fun every five minutes, and later that night racing him to pay for the check, only to be beaten by him.

The proud smirk that curved up his mouth while he paid for dinner was enough for you to peacefully accept your defeat and forget about the girl glaring at you from the side.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

By the time you made it to the club, which was only three streets away from the restaurant, as Hyunjin’s group had deliberately chosen one of the most popular areas not to need another car to get you there, it was already filled with people — the queue to enter being quite long, yet moving surprisingly fast.

Hyunjin found himself unconsciously tugging at the sleeve of your —his— jacket as soon as you made it inside, standing right behind you not to lose you in the crowd of people as you made your way past them. And it only hit him how close you were when you turned your head to him and your nose nearly brushed against his mouth.

“We should find the coat check” you said, coming closer to his ear for him to be able to hear you over the loud music.

He nodded, gulping hard before the two of you stood there looking around the place. When you found it not too far from where you were standing, you pointed at it, feeling Hyunjin nod behind you and telling something to one of his friends before taking off — although inaudible, you guessed it had to do with something along the lines of coming back to them right away.

“You know, this wouldn’t have been necessary if you’d just let me come without a coat” you taunted once on the desk, beginning to take it off.

Hyunjin chuckled, shaking his head while he took his jacket off as well, as it was way hotter than he’d expected inside the club. Much to your surprise, the black shirt he was wearing underneath, and which you had supposed was long-sleeved, was not. His biceps were fully displayed as he reached for your purse and the puffer jacket you were trying to fold, and you couldn’t help but stare while he handed the three items to the person behind the desk.

Putting the claim ticket inside his pants’ pocket, his eyes focused back on you, smiling shyly when he caught you staring.

“And then I’m the one who’s not appropriately dressed for the weather?” You raised a questioning eyebrow.

His previous shy smile turned into a smirk, gently turning you around and placing his hands on your bare shoulders so he could lead you through the crowd towards your group. “I was wearing a jacket”.

“It’s so not the same?” You turned your face to him once again, and he swore your unannounced proximity would be the end of him.

“I care about you not getting a cold, shouldn’t you be saying thank you?” He argued, pulling you closer to him when you almost bumped into someone.

“I looked ridiculous” you stated.

He begged to differ, you looked adorable. He would lend you his clothes every time he could, even if you weren’t being stubborn and didn’t really need him to at all.

“Besides, who says I don’t care about you catching a cold either?”

“I didn’t see you bringing me a jacket though?” He questioningly tilted his head.

You rolled your eyes. “You can wear the one you brought me once we leave. I’ll wear your other one”.

Hyunjin laughed under his breath, thankful for the loud music and bad lighting that allowed him to hide just how flustered he was over the simple thought of you leaving the club wearing the jacket he had come with. Sure, you came in wearing his puffer jacket, but there was something about everyone else seeing you leave in the jacket he was previously wearing, that sent butterflies flying all over his stomach.

“I’ll think about it” he tried to play it cool, earning a triumphant smile from you.

Seeing Han wave towards the two of you from near the bar, Hyunjin tightened his hold on your shoulders, redirecting your body in said direction before you saw him as well. Getting closer to the group, the two of you smiled in relief when you noticed they had managed to take over a booth.

“Where’s the rest?” He asked Han, realising only half of the group was there.

Jisung shrugged. “Some went to get drinks, some are dancing”.

Hyunjin gave him a quick nod before turning back to you. “I’ll go get us drinks” he informed you. “Cranberry vodka is it? Or do you want something else?”

“Cranberry vodka is perfect” you smiled, finding it the sweetest how he remembered such a small detail like your drink of choice. “Should I go with you?”

He shook his head no, motioning for you to take a seat. “It’s okay, I’ll be right back”.

You gave him a smile, nodding for him to go and watching him and Han disappear into the crowd before you sat down, sliding towards the empty spot next to Minho, who was already enjoying his drink.

“Having fun so far?” He tried to initiate small talk.

Your eyebrows furrowed, leaning slightly closer to him, as you had not been able to hear him. “What?”

“Are you having fun?” He spoke over the music.

You nodded, a smile curving up your lips. “Yeah, you guys are fun. Although I’ve mostly been glued to Hyunie all night, which must be annoying”.

Minho chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. If you only knew, you being stuck to him was all Hyunjin ever wanted.

“Nah, he’s okay with it” he reassured you. “He was really excited about you joining us”.

Your smile brightened, feeling like a weight had just been lifted off your shoulders. “That’s good to know…” you mumbled more to yourself.

“Hey, we’re going to dance!” Haeun caught your attention from the other side of the booth, gesturing to herself and another girl next to her. “You wanna come?”

You politely denied with a smile. “I’m waiting for Hyunjin, maybe later!”

They both smiled back at you, standing up and rushing towards the rest of the group.

“Aren’t you joining the rest over there?” You asked Minho, catching on the way he was looking at them as well.

“Probably will once the alcohol hits” he confessed with a small smirk, getting a light laugh from you.

“Oh, so you’re into Minho then” a female voice spoke loudly from right behind you.

Turning around, you were met with Dahye, who was now sitting down next to you and staring at you with what you could recognize as a cynical smile.

Now, you didn’t have a problem with her so far, but the way it was becoming a habit of hers to make assumptions about your relationships with people was really beginning to annoy you.

“What?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not into Hyunjin but into Minho” she took a sip of her drink. “I’ve got nothing to worry about then”.

“I’m not into anyone” you clarified.

“Good, because Hyunjin and I have a thing going on, so it’d be really messed up for you to come in between” she mindlessly played with the straw. “Not like he’d pay attention to you anyway, you seem way too mature and he’s into girls more his age, like me”.

Before you could reply, a very loud scoff was heard from Minho.

“Is bullshit all that ever comes out of your mouth?” He practically yelled over the music, getting dumbfounded looks from the rest of his friends in the booth.

Her mouth remained shut, shrugging ever so nonchalantly before she took another sip of liquor. Minho rolled his eyes, standing up and motioning for you to slide to his previous seat, so he could take your place instead and keep Dahye from interacting with you anymore.

“Don’t listen to her, she’s just jealous” he leaned in to say in more of a whisper.

Choosing to say nothing and to just let it slip, you nodded understandingly. In all honesty, though, you hardly understood what was going on.

Minho said that she was jealous, and you got that, it was clear that she had a thing for Hyunjin and it must’ve sucked to see him arrive with someone else. You knew you would’ve felt the same had you been in her shoes. But you had already explained that you were Hyunjin’s sister’s best friend, and that the only reason he invited you was because she was out of town. On top of that, you had also just made it known that you weren’t interested in anyone — not Hyunjin, not Minho, not any of their friends at all. So why wouldn’t she just drop it?

You disliked the way she was handling the whole situation, but you tried to understand her. The side of you that knew what it felt like to have feelings for someone and fear they were into someone else, tried its best to sympathize with her.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Hyunjin arrived, loudly announcing that Han had stayed back and joined the rest of the group on the dance floor.

His previous smile faltered and his eyebrows furrowed when he realised that not only had Dahye joined your side of the booth, but also that you and Minho had switched places. One single look at his very annoyed friend, however, was enough for him to guess the whole picture.

Just as you had done a minute ago, he decided to say nothing, instead handing you your drink and smiling when you thanked him and squeezed up against Jihoo next to you, to make some space for him.

“Everything alright?” He asked, unable to hide his worry.

“Mhm…” you took a sip of your drink. “Apparently I’m into Minho now”.

“Wait, what?”

Minho nudged him to catch his attention before he could fully panic. “That’s what your admirer accused her of”.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. That was one hell of a jump scare you just gave him.

“Why’d she think that anyway?”

“We were just talking and I guess we got too close since we couldn’t hear each other” you explained, chuckling to yourself when you realised you were just as close to Hyunjin now. “Just like we are now, she must be back to thinking I’m into you”.

Now, that was something he could deal with; Dahye —or anyone else for that matter— believing you were into him. That simple thought made him happy enough to let it slide just how close you had apparently been to his friend minutes ago.

A bright smile parted his lips, trying to play it cool by taking a sip of his drink, only for it to be erased the moment Dahye called him from next to Minho.

“Hyunjin, let’s go dance?”

He shook his head no. “I’m fine, thanks”.

“Yah,” you whispered-shouted, gently nudging him, which earned you a confused look by him. “Go have fun”.

“I am having fun,” he brought his drink up to his lips. “Right here”.

“Aw, come on” she insisted, reaching over Minho to hold Hyunjin’s wrist — needless to say, it took him less than a second to snatch his hand away. “You can still enjoy your drink on the dance floor”.

Not giving her an answer, his eyes fixed on you, and for some reason that was all it took for you to get it all wrong — because the scene you were seeing in front of you was the one of a girl who was head over heels for Hyunjin, trying her best to spend some time with him, and a very troubled Hyunjin who didn’t want to leave you alone. After all, he had invited you to join him and his friends that night, therefore, it was only rational that he’d think of it as rude to leave you all alone to go dance with someone else. Or so you thought.

So, not wanting to be the one holding him back, you did the most reasonable thing you could come up with in that moment: show him you could have fun on your own and he didn’t need to be glued to you making sure you were.

“Minho, you wanna dance?”

Not only did Minho’s head snap in your direction, but so did Hyunjin’s.

“Me?” He asked, taken aback as ever.

“Yeah” you smiled, already getting up to get out of the booth. “We can join Han and the rest”.

Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, Minho’s first instinct was to look at Hyunjin, hopelessly looking for approval. Hyunjin, on the other hand, was too busy staring up at you to even notice his friend’s cry for help.

When he invited you to join them that night, he had completely overlooked the fact that you could end up bonding with someone else. He was blinded by the idea of him being the closest to you and therefore you not leaving his side, which was only intensified considering you’d been stuck together all night, but now you were asking Minho to dance with you instead of him, and he realised he had only played himself.

“Come onnn, the alcohol must be hitting at least a little bit by now” you teased him for his previous statement, motioning towards the dance floor.

“I mean, y-yes, sure” Minho stuttered, and only then, hearing his answer, Hyunjin’s glaring eyes fixed on him. “Maybe we could all go?”

His suggestion managed to calm Hyunjin down. Sure, he hated how Dahye was being included and how she’d most definitely end up dancing with him since you had asked Minho to, but it was the best his friend could do given the circumstances, and he was thankful for it.

“Yeah, let’s go” Hyunjin agreed, standing up as well and, much to his disappointment, being followed by a very happy Dahye.

He had definitely played himself.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

Although your plan had partially failed, given you weren’t able to leave Hyunjin and Dahye alone, you were still decided to make the most of it and have a good time.

Nevertheless, roughly twenty minutes on the dance floor were enough for you to realise that having fun and ignoring Dahye’s behaviour towards you wouldn’t be as easy as it was during dinner. Because, although you did dance with Minho at first and she got to be with Hyunjin for a while, it only took a few minutes for the whole group to get together and end up goofily dancing around in a messy circle.

Hyunjin naturally gravitated towards you, and so did you towards him, for at the end of the day he was the one you came with and the one you wanted to be with the most, but every time he tried to talk to you over the music or just get closer to you for the sake of it, the girl next to him would try to draw his attention back to her.

You didn’t know whether to be annoyed or to feel bad for her, finding yourself acting oblivious to her poor attempts most of the time. It wasn’t your business anyway, but something she and Hyunjin had to figure out.

Even then, when she tugged at Hyunjin’s arm to pull him to her when you tried to come close to his ear in order to say something to him, you realised you had enough of this one-sided battle.

Gently grabbing his wrist right after he pulled away from her grasp and Haeun came to the rescue by making Dahye dance with her instead, you looked at the time on his watch. It was only a little past eleven, and you decided that was good enough for you to go back home.

Placing a hand on his shoulder and motioning for him to lean down so you could speak closer to his ear like you had previously tried to, you stood on your tiptoes to meet him halfway. “Can you hand me the claim ticket to go get my bag? I’ll bring it back before leaving”.

His eyebrows furrowed. “You wanna leave?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but you stay here. I’ll call a taxi, you don’t need to come with me”.

“Is something wrong?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“No, but—” you were cut off by a guy dancing behind you bumping into you. Your first instinct was to laugh it off, and Hyunjin’s was to pull you to him.

“Let’s go get our things and talk outside” he raised his voice over the music once again. “It’s too chaotic in here”.

You simply nodded, deciding to look past the fact that he was getting his jacket as well, and wanting to believe it only had to do with him going outside until you left and not wanting to freeze in the meantime.

Once on the street, you were thankful to breathe in some fresh air, even if it was cold as hell compared to how it was inside the club. Hyunjin ended up going against his fantasy of seeing you in the jacket he had arrived in, and giving you his puffer coat once again instead. You were far done complaining by now anyway, for it was doing wonders to keep you warm.

“Is the taxi coming?” He asked, shoving his phone into his pocket after letting his friends know you were leaving.

“Mhm…” you nodded, looking up from your phone and catching the way he was rubbing his hands together and blowing some hot breath in them. “Should be here in the next five minutes”.

“It’s not even midnight yet, though…” he pointed out. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened, really, I just…” you shrugged, a shy smile curving up your lips. “Am I allowed to say it?”

“Say what?” He wondered.

“I feel like I’m cockblocking you”.

“What?” To say he was astonished was an understatement. “Cockblocking me? You?”

“Yeah, with Dahye”.

“With Dahye?!”

You laughed, shaking your head as you looked down at your phone, seeing the taxi be only four minutes away now.

“Have I not made it clear enough that I don’t like her?”

“But you could if you weren’t so closed off to give her a chance” you smiled. “I feel like I’m keeping you from getting a midnight kiss and maybe even more by being here because you’re kind of obliged to stick with me, or maybe you feel uncomfortable with me seeing that side of you because I’m Yeji’s friend and I could snitch on you or something”.

Hyunjin blinked rapidly, trying to take in the nonsense that had just come out of your mouth.

“I’m not obliged to, I want to be with you” he clarified. “And I couldn’t care less about you snitching on me to Yeji, I’ve got lots of shit on her anyway. That’s not it at all”.

“But she—”

“I don’t know what makes you think I want to kiss Dahye at midnight or whatever, because I—just,” he sighed. “It’s kind of a long story”.

“Ugh, just when my taxi’s almost here,” you whined, looking up from your phone and to the street. “You can go back inside, but I’m very intrigued now so maybe we can catch up later?”

“No, I’m leaving with you”.

“I can leave alone, though. You don’t have to worry about me, Hyun…jin? Hyun?” Your eyebrows furrowed, pensively. “Is Hyun okay? Should I stick to Hyunjin?”

“What?”

“Dahye said you hate being called Hyunie,” you reminded him. “I’ve been calling you that all these years, I’m sorry”.

“Y/N, no. Please don’t,” he sighed heavily, throwing his head back as he felt like pulling his hair out. “Don’t listen to anything she says”.

“But—”

“But nothing, she knows nothing” he cut you off. “I only hate it when she calls me that. I’ve told her multiple times not to”.

“Are you sure?” You hesitated.

He nodded, coming closer to you. “Like I told her earlier tonight, you can call me whatever you want”.

“Even if it’s something ridiculous like pudding?” You smirked, and he snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Who are you, Harley Quinn?”

“Don’t test me, I will come up with something embarrassing to call you in front of your friends”.

Before he could bite back, your taxi pulled over in front of you.

“You should go back to them now” you motioned towards the club, walking towards the car.

“I don’t want you to welcome the new year alone, though” he followed hot on your heels.

You smiled sweetly. “Trust me, you did more than enough for me tonight. I had a lot of fun thanks to you, Hyunie, you don’t need to worry about me at all”.

He smiled softly, loving that you were back to calling him that.

“Would it change anything if I said I want to be with you at midnight?”

“Possibly…” you felt your face heat up. “But I want you to have fun with your friends”.

“Okay then, how about this,” he began, knowing he didn’t have much time to negotiate right then and opening the door for you. “I leave with you now, we spend the countdown together, and then I come back here afterwards”.

Pondering your choices for a quick second, and knowing he was just as obstinate as you, you gave in.

“Okay,” you smiled, entering the car for once and for all. “I expect you at my door ready to come back here as soon as midnight hits, though”.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

You made it back to your place barely twenty minutes before midnight.

You were relieved to be able to take off your heels, rushing to set the coffee table in your living room the best you could with what you had at home — that being a few snacks and a bottle of white wine, as your original plan before Hyunjin invited you to spend new year’s eve with him was to eat and drink alone while watching TV and scrolling through your phone.

He tried to help you set everything up, but you were adamant on him relaxing on your couch while you took care of it. After all, he was the one to treat you all night, now it was your time to take care of him.

Once everything was done, and Hyunjin was quietly switching channels to find one covering the new year’s celebration not to miss the countdown, you excused yourself to quickly change into something more comfortable, since, unlike him, you weren’t going out again.

“How long until midnight?” You asked, fixing your hair while you re-entered the living room in a dark blue sleepwear.

“Twelve minutes” he announced, gesturing towards the TV.

“I was afraid we wouldn’t make it” you confessed, earning a laugh from him as you slumped on the couch.

“Good thing the club wasn’t that far from your place” Hyunjin chuckled, handing you a glass of the wine he opened while you changed in your room.

“Honestly I didn’t care about missing the countdown, but then you came here with me and I was afraid I’d make you miss it”.

“Worst case scenario, we celebrated in the taxi” he shrugged.

“As opposed to you getting to be all hyped up spending it with your friends at the club?” You questioned, then shaking your head in denial. “I would’ve felt so bad”.

He chuckled, taking a sip of wine. “I wouldn’t have minded”.

“No, but I’m sorry I felt like leaving earlier” you pouted. “We should’ve just gone back inside”.

“The taxi was already there,” he pointed out. “And in all honesty I wouldn’t have made you go back there when I knew you were uncomfortable. Dahye kinda ruined it for me too anyway”.

“Right…” you mumbled. “So what is it with her?”

He sighed heavily, making you laugh over how stressed out he seemed just by thinking of it.

“Okay so first of all, she’s not even part of our friend group” he began. “She’s Haeun’s cousin and she always manages to get her to invite her to our hangouts, which is really annoying since she isn’t friends with most of us”.

“You invited me, though?”

“It’s different” he argued. “You’re nothing like her, and my friends really like you”.

“She doesn’t seem that bad?” You tried to reason, and the glare you got from him was enough to let you know she was. “Don’t give me that look, she looked pretty nice to everyone but me”.

“Yeah, that’s…” he sighed again. “She’s had a thing for me for like two years now, and I made the awful mistake of kissing her when I got wasted one night after breaking up with Seoyun and now she won’t leave me alone”.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on” you sat up straight, leaving your glass on the coffee table to focus on him entirely. “You kissed her?! Seoyun? Who’s Seoyun?”

And then it hit him, how you never really knew about his first girlfriend. Because you weren’t as close back then.

Somehow, spending these past three days with you made your fall-out feel minuscule, like you’d only spent a couple of months apart at most. It was only then that he got a reality check and got hit by the fact that you had missed almost four years of each other’s life.

Although you kept in touch as much as you could, he now realised how superficial your conversations and interactions had remained.

“Right,” he laughed nervously. “Um, she was my girlfriend. And yes, I kissed Dahye…”

“And now you’re surprised that she’s obsessed with you?”

He snorted, pinching the bridge of his nose as he lamented. “I was drunk. Wasted, actually. I wouldn’t even remember if it weren’t for the fact that Han and Minho won’t let me live it down”.

You chuckled, imagining just how much shit they must’ve given him for it. “It was only a one time thing then?”

“Yeah, I think it was like the second time we saw each other, didn’t know how pushy she was back then” he ran a hand through his hair. “But then after that night she expected more and I explained to her that I was drunk as hell and I tend to get really touchy in that state and that it meant nothing to me—”

“Ouch?”

“I sugarcoated it, okay?” He squinted his eyes at you. “But she’s been very insistent since then and I’ve told her so many times that I want nothing to do with her, that I… I don’t know, my patience ran out, I can’t really be nice about it anymore”.

“I get it…” you mumbled, staring to your lap. “It must be really annoying that she won’t take no for an answer after all these years. Sorry I tried to set you up with her in a way, I didn’t know”.

Hyunjin smiled, loving how easy it was to talk to you — how you never really judged him, but tried to understand him and his choices instead.

“It’s okay…” he mumbled as well. “Just please don’t try to leave me alone with her again, I said I wanted to stay with you back then”.

“You didn’t really say that” you argued with a smirk, having him shake his head and bring his cup to his mouth. “But I know better now, won’t do it again”.

“Thank you” he sighed in relief, and you giggled, reaching for your glass and taking a small sip of wine before you looked at him again.

“You said it was after you broke up with… Sooyun?”

“Seoyun” he corrected. “Yes”.

“I only knew about Nara. Was this before her?” You tilted your head.

“Yeah, a few months before her” he explained. “Seoyun and I dated for like three months by the end of 2021, then that thing with Dahye happened, and then I dated Nara in like middle 2022. That’s pretty much the timeline”.

“And I’m hoping Dahye stopped insisting when you got together with Nara?”

“As if” he scoffed. “Nara couldn’t stand her. It’s good that she doesn’t have my number and the only times we interact are when she tags along in our hangouts, otherwise it would’ve been so much worse than it was”.

“Next time you get a girlfriend, I say you block her on every social media”.

“I’ll block her on everything if you do the same with Mingyu” he playfully held his pinky up for you to seal the promise.

What he got instead, was a throaty laugh coming out of your mouth as you lightly slapped his hand away. “You’re an idiot”.

“I think it’s pretty reasonable, though?”

“We’ll see” you played along. “You need to get a girlfriend first in order for me to follow through”.

“I can block her right now, I don’t care” he stated, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“Stop!” You laughed, stopping him from unlocking it. “There’s no really need to just yet”.

Rolling his eyes, he let his phone fall on the couch. “You’re no fun”.

You chuckled, taking another sip as the living room fell silent and your mind went through everything you had just talked about. You surely had missed a lot.

You had missed him a lot.

“I can’t believe I never knew about Seoyun…”

“I mean, not even my sister knew back then, it wasn’t that serious…” he swirled the drink in his hand. “And we didn’t really talk that much anymore back then, so…”

“Yeah… sorry about that” you smiled bittersweetly. “It was my fault we drifted away. I’m sorry, Hyunie”.

“What do you mean it was your fault?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably. “Mingyu didn’t like me having guy friends. Girl friends he was fine with up to a certain extent, but he just… was a little possessive”

He felt his blood boil. “You never told me that”.

“Like you said, we didn’t really talk much back then anymore” you smiled weakly. “But yeah, I didn’t see it as a problem because I was so in love with him that it made me feel good to know that he wanted me all to himself, as idiotic as it sounds, so I ended up pulling away from most of my friends. Chan was the only guy friend I kept throughout our relationship, mainly because he’s been my best friend since high school. Mingyu still was a bit wary at first but Chan’s where I drew the line”.

“Couldn’t you have drawn the line with me, too?”

Hyunjin tried to make his words come off as a lighthearted joke, but the weak tone in his voice and the hurt look in his eyes let you know he was serious, regardless of the smile adorning his mouth.

“I tried, Hyunie. I really tried” you confessed.

“You did?” His eyes softened.

“Mhm…” you ran a hand through your hair. “You mean a lot to me, I loved the way our friendship was back then, but Mingyu just had this… he was convinced you had a thing for me, and he would go on and on about it”.

Oh.

“Then again, according to him everyone had a thing for me” you rolled your eyes at the memory. “So please don’t take it to heart, I know you didn’t and it was all in his mind. I tried to reason with him plenty of times, but he just wouldn’t listen”.

“I understand…” he mumbled. “It’s okay…”

All this time, he thought he had made a good job at hiding his feelings for you. Apparently not.

Of course they would be obvious as hell to the one other person who was in love with you back then.

He hated to admit it, but he could see where Mingyu was coming from; at least when it came to him. He could’ve handled it better for sure, but he knew that if he was in Mingyu’s shoes and he knew you were close with someone who had a thing for you, he wouldn’t like it either.

“I wish I hadn’t pushed everyone away because of him…” you lamented.

“At least you still have Yeji and Chan” he tried to cheer you up.

“Yeah, but now I feel like a third wheel most of the time” you confessed rather bitterly. “It’s not their fault at all, and they do make me feel included, but that’s just how I feel. It was great before because there were four of us, but now it’s just me and ugh”.

Watching you throw your head back in exasperation, he bit his lip, staring into his glass as he debated on whether to say the words that were dancing on the tip of his tongue.

“Maybe we could…”

Your head snapped back to him, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“Maybe we could what?” You wondered when he wouldn’t.

“Maybe we could take up where we left off?”

“Where we left off?”

“Yeah, you know… I mean, I hope it wasn’t only me, but I feel like we were really close back then? Before he came into the picture” he explained, feeling nervous as ever under your piercing stare. “Like, we’d text everyday, we’d see each other quite often too… we didn’t have to rely on Yeji to interact, and… if you’re up for it, I would like to go back to that”.

All nervousness washed away when you smiled.

Nodding your head softly, you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your mouth, making the pace of his heartbeats skyrocket.

“I would really love that”.

“You would?” He asked breathily.

“Mhm…” you reassured him. “I don’t know if you missed the part where I said you mean a lot to me, but I’d love for us to be close again”.

Hyunjin smiled shyly, lowering his head and begging his cheeks not to give away the beautiful mess he was feeling inside.

As if saved by the bell, your eyes went to the TV for a second, and only that took for you to jump in your place and gesture for him to take a look as well.

Fifteen seconds until midnight.

Fourteen.

Thirteen.

“Twelve minutes already?” You asked, dumbfoundedly looking at him.

Hyunjin laughed. Had you not looked at the TV in that moment, you would probably have continued talking into the next year without noticing.

Ten.

Nine.

“To pick up where we left off?” He offered a small toast, raising his glass.

Six.

You chuckled, happily nodding your head before raising your glass as well. “To pick up where we left off”.

Three. You counted together.

Two.

One.

Clinking your glasses together, the two of you gave it a poor attempt at cheering, resulting in both of you laughing as you leaned in for a comfortable hug.

“Happy new year, Hyunie” you cooed, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He smiled softly, mimicking your small action and gently rubbing his thumbs up and down your sides. “Happy new year, Y/N”.

Starting the new year together and with the promise of becoming close again, could only make the two of you excited, hopeful even, for what was to come.

Needless to say, he was not going back to the club after midnight.

tag list: @jehhskz @iknowyouknowminho @doohnut @saintcosette @lailac13 @kayleefriedchicken @rikibun @yongbokkiesworld @seungzsmin @beautifulcolorgarden @hyunetopia @velvetmoonlght @automaticpersonabatpaper @httpdwaekki @brinnalaine @wondering-out-loud @feelikecinderella @nujeskz @amarecerasus @liknws @nhyunn @midsoulz @tirena1 @tinyelfperson @thatonexcgirl @iovecb97 @hynier @phenomenalgirl9 @your-favorite-pirate @jin-from-the-block @yearofthetiger25 @quokkacidal @stayconnecteed @kwanisms @yoonguurt @143hyunes @iiriam @curlytxe @hyunlvrs @allyrarara @machaandlofi @mehli-00 @justiceforvillains @minhosprettywife @whats-my-question @armystay89 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hyeon-yi @skzstannie @onlyhyunjin @shyshyshytwice @nicoleparadas @​broken-glowsticks @sweetbokji

[dark-moonlust]

Caught Between the Fae

This is a Patreon commission I finished yesterday. The commissioner chose to remain anonymous. I hope you enjoy this small story! It was so enjoyable to write and it's super steamy, too! I love every part of it 🖤

Pairing: 2 fae males (Nestor, Quin) x f!human (Layla)

Summary: Layla is a photographer in her mid-30s. During her exhibition event, two fae males, Nestor and Quinn, are drawn to one of her paintings and her beauty. They recognize her as their mate and quarrel over who will get Layla and her artwork. Finally, they decide to share her as she belongs to them both. They claim her as their mate and go into a mating rage, driving deep inside her and marking her with their cum.

Warnings: minors don’t interact, 18+!!, fingering, oral(female+male receiving), kinky talk, a little bondage, big 🍆, fae magic to fit, p in v sex, anal, double penetratiοn, lots of 💦.

Tonight was her big night. 

Layla took yet another deep breath and strolled through the art gallery. Her heart thundered with excitement and a little fear. That night, her photography was the star of the show. All her pieces were there for all to see and judge. She truly hoped the people would admire and grasp the feelings and meanings behind each photo. Her work was her pride and joy.

As she walked the sleek gallery, the room was a whirl of positive reviews and the clinking of champagne glasses. The people liked her work! Feeling her anxiety lessen, she smiled, soaking in the energy as she mingled with the guests. She let herself enjoy the vibes, her soft curvy frame moving gracefully through the crowd, her fiery red hair catching the light, making her green eyes gleam with pride. 

Taking a short break, she stood near the center of the room and tried to calm her raging heart. The gallery was a big hit and a dream come true! She still couldn’t believe it. She wanted to jump and laugh out of joy. As she scanned the faces of the audience, her gaze stopped on two striking men in front of her favorite piece: a photo of a moonlit beach at night. They were boldly gazing at her piece and then her way. 

A jolt traveled through her. Their gazes practically saw through her. 

Tall and towering, they were both, with pointy ears and supernatural auras exuding such intense power that caused her whole body to come alive and warm up as if licked by fire.

They were fae... what otherwordly beauty.

The one on the left had close-cropped blonde hair, deep purple eyes, and although he wore a sleek black suit, she could see his neck and hands, which were filled with tattoos that surely filled the rest of his body. The other male beside him was all dark and sensual mischief. He had long, curly, dark hair and ice-blue eyes that sparkled with a devil-may-care attitude.

They were attracting the eyes of everyone in the room; their presence electrifying.

From across the room, Nestor, the King of the Court of Nightmares, stood in front of Layla’s photo, his deep purple eyes drawn to every detail of the mounted piece. The gallery lights cast the perfect light, illuminating the moonlight beach. His fingers tightened around his glass as he swirled the dark liquid inside. Beside him, Quinn admired the same photo, his ice-blue eyes attracted to the art and the artist herself. He was the Emperor of the Court of Chaos. 

“Stunning,” Nestor murmured in a low mumble, scanning the room, his gaze finding Layla and staying on her. “They shall be mine. Both the piece and the artist.”

Quinn chuckled, his eyes equally intent on the female. “You wish. You don’t have what it takes to appreciate them both.”

“And you do?” Nestor’s voice was higher than usual, turning heads. “Thinking too high of yourself, aren’t you?”

“This art piece belongs in my court, and little fireheart in my bed.”

“Fireheart…” Nestor whispered, his eyes tracing the fire-colored hair of his mate, the soft and curvy frame he hungered to have exposed beneath him. “I’ll never let you have them. She’s my fated one and the Queen of the Court of Nightmares.”

Quinn’s laugh was light and mocking. “I’ll bid whatever the hell you want. She’s my mate, the Empress of Chaos Court. She will be mine.”

“You? I don’t think so. I want her and that piece, and I’ll have them,” Nestor stated, his voice hard with authority. “You’d better wet your dick elsewhere.”

Quinn’s lips curled at his words. “I’ll wet my dick inside her, in every warm little place inside her.” The Emperor of Chaos stared at his mate, their gazes meeting and holding. She was gorgeous. In every way. Her red hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, and her green eyes sparkled with passion. He wanted her. He’d never back down. 

“She is mine.” Nestor’s eyes flicked to the other fae. “The moment I saw her, I knew she was my fated one.”

“And you think I didn’t feel the same?” Quinn spat back, with a hint of annoyance. Long moments passed before he added, “Perhaps there’s a reason we both recognize her so strongly.”

Nestor narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you implying?”

“Fate doesn’t make mistakes,” Quinn answered. “She belongs to both of us.”

“This makes sense…” Nestor trailed off, clearly considering the proposal. 

Quinn chuckled warmly. “Finally, we agree on something. So, what do we do about it?”

“We claim her. Every part of her.”

It was that moment when Layla decided to approach them. She closed in on them, and they immediately framed her luscious body with their possessive, towering bodies on both sides. Layla felt hot all over, her frame shivering from the intensity of their aura and their mere height. The dynamic between the two fae made her belly clench with arousal and for a few seconds she felt such an intense magnetic pull towards them that she could barely contain it.

“Gentlemen… I am Layla, the artist behind these photographs. I’m honored by your interest, and I couldn’t help but notice your tension… is there a problem?”

“Good evening, Layla,” Nestor greeted with a sultry drawl. “I am Nestor, King of the Court of Nightmares. Your work is extraordinary, I must have it.”

Quinn grinned and stepped closer to her, his ice-blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “I am Quinn, Emperor of the Court of Chaos. Our problem is that we both desire this piece of art, though not as much as we desire you.”

Nestor shifted closer to her right side, his scent enveloping her. “You should visit my court, Layla, and be the crown jewel of my kingdom. Choose me, fireheart.”

“Fireheart?” Layla muttered, a little taken by the nickname and the intensity in his eyes. 

Quinn hummed and let his towering form nearly envelop her left side. “We feel a connection to you, little one. A bond that cannot be ignored.”

Layla didn’t know whether to laugh or blush at their bold statements. The gallery suddenly buzzed with whispers and speculations as all eyes turned toward the three of them. Both fae males had surrounded her, and her cheeks felt hot, as did the rest of her body. Her pussy was also wet, aching with a need she couldn’t barely ignore. They weren’t just interested in her art—they wanted her. 

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding.

How could she refuse the King of Nightmares and Emperor of Chos without offending them?

“Gentlemen,” she finally said, her voice wavering, “I’m afraid the artist—meaning myself—is not available for such… arrangement. However, the art piece is. I am sure we can find a way to resolve this without—”

“Without what?” Nestor’s eyes darkened. “Without accepting the connection you are feeling?"

Layla opened her mouth to reply, but Quinn cut her off. “Don’t deny it, fireheart. You feel it too. The mating bond, the desire.”

Layla bit her lip and unconsciously rubbed her thighs together. Liquid warmth pooled in her core. “I… I don’t think this is appropriate.”

“Yet your pussy is wet and aching for us,” Quinn whispered against her ear, his breath warm. “And it’s not going away unless we take care of you.”

“Accept us, little mate,” Nestor said, sending shivers down her spine. “We can feel your need. You want us. Both.“

“I—I…” Layla stuttered wordlessly, her eyes flicking between the two fae. She felt such longing and undeniable attraction for them. But how could she just give in?

“You are ours, fireheart. Ours to claim in ways neither of us could do alone,” Quinn nodded, his ice-blue eyes intense.

“B-b-both of you…” Layla muttered, her body tightening pleasurably at the mere thought of those two fae belonging to her. 

“Hmm,” both men growled, their eyes caressing her face and red hair. 

Layla nodded slowly, listening to her heart which was screaming for them. Immediately, Fae magic surrounded her, stealing her breath away. The gallery blurred and melted away, replaced by a lavish bedroom filled with rich fabrics and flickering candles. Nestor and Quinn embraced her from both sides, their hands exploring her heated body. 

Nestor scented her neck, his fingers tangling in her loose hair as if he couldn’t have enough of her. Quinn kissed her shoulders over the straps of her dress, each lingering touch leaving trails of delightful warmth and heat. When their gazes locked on hers, she felt hypnotized by the mating bond between them. It was real; they belonged to her, and she ached with need, desperate to be touched by them. 

“Yes, fireheart,” Quinn rasped, sliding down the straps of her dress. “You are our mate, and you will be filled by us both.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nestor said, unzipping the back of her dress, his fingers warm against her skin. “Do you agree, sweetheart? Do you want this?”

“Hmmm… I want you,” Layla breathed, adrenaline pumping in her heart. 

Quinn’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. “Good girl,” he murmured, his icy eyes bearing into her emerald ones. They were enchanting, hypnotizing. “Now, let us show you what it means to be ours.”

Layla didn’t realize how quickly they scooped her up and propped her on the plush bed. They divested her of her clothing skillfully. Quinn peeled away her dress while Nestor unclasped her bra, moaning low as her breasts spilled free. He cupped them in his big palms and pushed them up to his hot mouth, suckling each pouting nipple. Quinn knelt at her half-closed thighs and gently removed her panties and shoes. Seeing how she hesitated once she was fully exposed to them, Quinn’s long fingers trailed down her belly, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin between her thighs.

“Open for us, little one,” Quinn said, his voice a seductive promise. “We’re going to fuck you deep, make you feel so good.”

Layla shyly opened her legs and suddenly both men were between them, each one securing a leg over their muscular thighs, their hands making sure she was fully open to their eyes. Using their magic, they removed their clothes, leaving her to gape at the two fae males, so big and powerful—in every way. 

Nestor had a sculpted body covered in tattoos. His eyes were warm and inviting, his stomach taut, his thighs firm and in between... his cock stood proud, looking utterly inhumane. It was thick and very long, pulsing, its length surrounded by protruding veins. Quinn was no less captivating. He was just as tall, his stance emphasizing the force of his thighs and the raw power of his well-muscled body. His eyes swirled with blue ice as he pumped his rigid cock. It was deliciously curved and textured with ridges, a little thicker than Nestor’s but not as long. 

Having both of them… Layla felt the dark desire, the intensity overflowing. The need. The craving. She wanted them. Wanted them more than anything in her life. 

“Fuuuuck, our mate’s even more beautiful than I imagined,” Nestor growled. She looked so pretty and tiny in contrast to their raging bodies. Flushed face, nipples out, pussy exposed. He wanted to debauch her. 

“Show us your pretty cunt, fireheart,” Quinn demanded softly. “Open those pretty lips nicely for your mates.”

Dazed by desire, Layla reached down and did as told. She opened her outer folds with two fingers, showing off her slit and the bud of her clit. Both men growled ferociously and stared for a few seconds. 

“That’s it,” Nestor growled, bending to lick a thick stripe up her pussy. “So wet already for your mates.”

Layla gasped, all sane thoughts fleeing. 

Quinn also leaned down to taste her pussy, kissing her throbbing clit. She saw stars. 

“She is ready for her mates,” Quinn said with a smirk. “You’re going to take every inch of us, aren’t you, fireheart?”

Layla whimpered, her voice and body trembling. “Yes… Please…”

The two males smiled. 

Nestor toyed with her pussy lips and Quinn rubbed her needy clit. Layla whimpered and struggled to arch off the bed. She squirmed restlessly, but their hold on her thighs was too secure, allowing no movement as their fingers probed and rubbed her pussy to their liking. She melted under their touch, her heart pulsing with the intensity of their bond.

“Such a sweet wet cunt," Quinn marveled, gathering her slick and rolling it between two fingers.

“Love your nipples, sweetheart,” Nestor drawled, moving to suckle one tit then the other, his tongue swirling around the hardened buds. 

“Pl… ease,” she sighed, her body feverish with need. “Need you. Need you so much it hurts!”

"Hurts?“ Quinn said in a mischievous tone as he rubbed her clit round and round while thrusting a thick finger inside her. Layla cried out and Nestor claimed her lips, swallowing her moans. 

“Hurts so good, hm, sweetheart?” Nestor drawled as their lips brushed, their tongues mating. 

“Yesss, please, more please… hmnnn...”

No sooner had she said that than Quinn was tasting her mouth, kissing her possessively and deeply. His tongue licked into her mouth then his tongue danced with hers. 

“What do you need, fireheart?”

Oh, how she adored the way they called her nicknames. She wanted to be theirs forever and get lost in their warmth and affection. 

“Want you so much. I’m so empty…”

“Our mate needs to be filled,” Nestor said to the other fae. “But first she will cum for us.”

Quinn agreed in a low chuckle and finger-fucked her while Nestor pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing over and over. Driving her higher and higher until she exploded, bliss and pleasure overtaking her until she couldn’t think or talk. Layla quivered and while she rode her orgasm, Nestor suckled her lower lip. Quinn moved to her breasts, his mouth nursing her aching nipples. Captive in their hold, she arched into their touch, drawn-out moans escaping her.

She was still dizzy from her orgasm when they shifted. Nestor sneaked between her thighs, slapping his heavy cock against her glistening pussy. The sound was wet and squelching, her pussy fluttering with the need to be filled. Quinn kneeled next to her head, his cock pulsing in the air, the tip leaking precum. Layla licked her lips, hungry to taste him. 

“Open,” Quinn commanded softly, “wet my dick, mate.”

Layla obeyed, her lips parting to take him in. Smiling mischievously, Quinn thrust his hips gently, his leaking cock stretching her mouth wide and filling it up. At the same time, Nestor entered her pussy, his girth spreading her cunt and filling her up inch by delectable inch. 

“Mhppphhh!” Layla gasped and gurgled around the cock in her mouth, her pussy filled to the limit by Nestor. Quinn gripped her fiery hair, guiding her head to keep sucking him. She was so full… Quinn’s shaft kissed her throat while Nestor’s cock kissed her cervix. 

“That’s it… fuck, you’re perfect,” Nestor groaned, watching her pussy suck him in. 

“Is it good, fireheart? Being fucked from both ends?” Quinn pulled his cock out of her mouth with a wet pop, his cock coated in her saliva. 

“Hmnn! Want more!”

With a proud moan, Quinn shoved his cock back into her hot mouth, going deeper and fucking down her throat. Nestor watched the lewd sight with pride. Their pretty mate struggled a little, but she took Quinn’s cock like the queen she was, hollowing her cheeks and clenching her pretty throat. She stroked his balls, cradling them in her small hands, her eyes rolling back with each thrust from both of them. 

Groaning, Nestor pounded deep into her cunt, making her pretty tits bounce with each sharp thrust. He kneaded her mounds, his thumbs pinching her nipples, causing her to gag and whimper around a mouthful of cock, her breathing heavy. Gods, she was so pretty like this, trapped between them, their cocks spearing her back and forth. 

A few calculated thrusts, and she came explosively, her body shuddering. Once she rode the waves of pleasure, the fae changed positions again, with Nestor fucking her mouth and Quinn taking her pussy. The dual sensations were overwhelming, liquid pleasure coursing through her veins as they filled her relentlessly. The room echoed with the rhythmic slaps of skin against skin and her muffled moans as she took fae cock. 

“Such a good mate for us,” Quinn said with pride. Her lips were swollen, her pussy drenched with her release. “Now it’s time to take our seed, hm?”

“Hmp, yes… want your cum,” Layla said in a seductive purr. 

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Nestor drawled. “Ready to take us both in your soaked cunt and tight little ass?“

“Hmm, gonna take you both,” Layla nodded, seeing the pride and desire on their handsome faces. “Need to feel you inside me.”

In a flurry of motion, they repositioned themselves so that Layla was straddling Nestor, her raw breasts rubbing against his muscled chest. Quinn kneeled behind her, his strong hands spreading her asscheeks, his thumbs teasing around the tight, puckered hole. Such a cute little hole. Layla whimpered when Nestor gripped her hips and guided her down onto his throbbing dick while Quinn thrust a magically lubed finger into her ass. 

Layla groaned, desperation and desire in her green eyes. 

Quinn kissed her spine. “Relax your pretty asshole and take my fingers, fireheart.”

Layla clutched Nestor’s shoulders and tried to relax while Quinn squeezed a second oiled finger into her ass, the thick intrusions making her gasp and shut her eyes tightly. The combination of Nestor filling her pussy and Quinn’s fingers in her ass was strange. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly at their mercy. 

“So damn tight," Nestor muttered against her moaning lips, his shaft buried in the heat of her cunt. 

Quinn added a third finger in her ass, pumped, and curled them inside her before replacing them with the head of his cock. The broad head spread her tight hole, forcing its way inside. Layla trembled at the dual invasion— they were so deep, stretching her wide around their inhuman girths. She glanced down at where they were joined, and with shock, she realized just how much more they had to go. Only a third of their shafts were inside her, and that both thrilled and scared her. 

Nestor’s voice broke through her haze. “You can do this, sweetheart.”

“You’re so big…” Layla whined. She was human, could she really take them both? 

“Deep breaths, mate,” Quinn advised gently. “Take a little more of us, hmm?” 

“Feels strange…” Layla looked at them for guidance, her cheeks flushed, her eyes worried. She could feel their dicks rubbing inside her, and she took deep breaths that were mixed with cries of pain and pleasure. 

“Let’s stroke your little clit,” Nestor murmured, his thumb stroking her bud, sending pulses of warmth all over her body. “Yesss, that feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm! Moree!”

“Such a good little mate,” Nestor cooed and proved his point by pulling out of her wet cunt then slamming more inches inside.

“Our mate needed a cock up her cunt and ass so badly,” Quinn growled as he worked deeper into her ass. 

“You will take us, mate. Again and again until you reek of our cum. Our magic protects you. Relax your holes,” Quinn ordered in her ear. 

Blindsided by the fullness of their penetration, Layla said yes in a series of raspy moans. Their fae magic infused her fully, empowering her and building her arousal. Before long, she’d taken the full lengths of their cocks. The fullness, the heat, the stretch— she was overwhelmed but in no pain. She curled between their powerful bodies, and when they started fucking her in earnest, she cried out, her nails digging into their flesh. 

“Look at you,” Nestor growled, his purple eyes dark with lust. “So beautiful riding our dicks.”

“You’re perfect like this, fireheart,” Quinn whispered, his hands fondling her asscheeks. “So tight, so hot.”

Hands grabbed and fondled her as they pounded her, their cocks owning her depths. When Nestor’s cock left her pussy, Quinn plunged into her ass. Layla tried to get more friction only to have their strong hands restrain her. Nestor grasped her tits while Quinn secured her wrists with magical silken ropes, carefully tying her arms behind her back. The silk felt like a caress, soft and slightly loose.

She didn’t complain; she only trembled between them, her watery eyes begging them to claim her. 

“If this is too much for you, fireheart, say “red” and we will stop. I promise you. Understood?”

“Yesss,” Layla nodded fervently. “Now… just fuck me.”

“Easy, sweetheart,” Nestor said, his hands gripping her thighs. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Layla was too far gone to think straight. “C-can’t! Want more!” 

“It’s the mating bond. She is human, and it’s affecting her. Our magic is also making everything stronger,” Nestor explained to the other fae. 

“Such a needy little mate,” Quinn rasped and pressed a harsh kiss to her mouth. “Bound and begging for us.”

Nestor grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You think you can handle us, huh? Think you can keep up with us?”

“Hmn… I can handle it,” Layla panted as they impaled her on their stiff cocks. 

Nestor chuckled from under her, his fingers pinching her nipples. “Is that so? Well, let’s see how long you can keep that attitude.” 

The two males exchanged glances before they resumed pounding into her. Nestor lifted her a few inches, then lowered her back down onto his cock. Quinn thrust his hips, fucking her ass in full thrusts that reached deep into her guts. They were both too thick, too hard, and too long, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It went on and on; their stamina seemed endless, their cocks so impossibly hard and swollen with the need to cum. The scent of desire hung heavily in the air and she came again with uncontrollable, shuddering contractions, her holes clenching hard around their massive girths. The males followed right after her, their muscled bodies shuddering, roars ringing out as she felt something burst inside her. Massive wings sprouted from their backs as their seed filled her up, loads and loads of it, forcing little aftershocks of ecstasy. 

But they were far from done. 

They switched places, Nestor claiming her now stretched asshole while Quinn filled up her pussy. Their wings curled around her as they slammed inside her, and Layla lost herself in the mating bond, quaking between them, her arms securely bound, her holes fluttering around their shafts. She could only whimper and utter their names, begging them to stop, then begging them to never stop and make her cum.

“Remember your safe word, mate,” Quinn reminded her roughly. “If it’s too much say "red" and we will stop.”

“Would you like us to stop fucking your naughty holes?” Nestor’s fingers curled around her nape, his hips snapping repeatedly into hers. 

“Nnn—nooo!” Layla whined, her body tense as she balanced on the edge of pleasure. 

Quinn growled his approval. “That’s good, fireheart, because we’re not going to.”

The bed creaked, obscene moans echoing with every move they made. Her fae mates fucked her powerfully, thrusting to the hilt again and again, deep and tirelessly. Quinn devoured her lips with his kisses, his hands cupping her tits and pinching her sore nipples. Nestor growled from behind her, his broad chest pressing against her back as he claimed her ass and flicked her clit with his thumb. 

They were primal and fully affected by the need to claim her, and she loved it—she loved them and how they fucked her, it was unlike anything she had imagined.

Layla’s moans rang out when she came again, sobs of pleasure escaping her kiss-swollen mouth. She trembled as a pleasure bomb went off in her center. It was too much, but it was divine, every nerve was alight. They joined her soon after, pulsing up inside her and releasing spurt after spurt of their cum. She was already filled with them, but the second load overflowed from her, dribbling down her thighs. 

Layla didn’t know for how long it went on. 

They untied the silk ropes and took her again and again, lifting her off the bed, sandwiching her between their aroused bodies and feeding her their cocks in every position imaginable. Their wings flapped powerfully, and when Layla touched them, her mates went into a mating rage, driving deep inside her, claiming her, owning her. 

As the sun began to rise, their frenzied mating finally came to an end. 

They collapsed on the bed, the covers tattered and smeared with signs of their primitive coupling. Layla’s mates enveloped her, spooning her from front to back, their bodies entwined with hers, their cocks still hard inside her due to the suction of her cunt and ass. She was sated and exhausted, feeling a sense of belonging she had never known before. 

They took turns kissing her, softly, lovingly, whispering sweet nothings while gazing at her with an impossibly soft, oh-so-soft expression on their faces. Their seed had marked her as theirs; the mate of the Nightmare and Chaos Courts.

“Who do you belong to, little mate?” Nestor asked, kissing the side of her neck.

“You,” Layla breathed. “Both of you.”

Nestor growled and gazed at her possessively. She belonged wholly to them. And they to her. She was filled to the brim with their seed, her holes stretched taut around their shafts. It was the ultimate claiming. "So beautiful. You did so well, fireheart.”

“Stunning.” Quinn brushed a few sweaty hair strands from her face and kissed her fluttering eyelashes. “You were so good for us, mate. Our beautiful Queen and Empress.”

“Yes,” Nestor agreed proudly. “We shall unite our courts and give our mate everything.”

“Hmmm,” Quinn hummed against her chest, his voice a sultry whisper against her lips. “Do you like being filled by your King and Emperor, fireheart?” 

“Yes,” Layla answered, her heart brimming with affection for them. “I love it. I love you both.”

Nestor hummed from behind her, kissing her softly. “We love you more. You’re ours, sweetheart. Forever.”

That night, they’d claimed more than a masterpiece. 

They’d claimed their soulmate. 

[ese1anime]

(Sigh)here we go,my first Au of TADC heheh yaaayyy hope yall like what I got so far of it

If you like BATIM(Bendy And The Ink Machine) then you’ll like what I’m creating for this Au…

Behold!!

Meet the Gang:

Emotion of the others:

🩶:the person

💖:crush

💚:friend/bestie

🧡:normal around

❤️:hate

(For this is the best thing I can come up with on their heights I did my best to keep the height and putting them in a row)

>Lore of the story<><>

For some of us we know that game of bendy and the ink machine has become popular for gamers that have played it or those that seen it along with knowing how virtual reality can bring a whole new side of what’s real but isn’t with headsets.Well what if they both were combined together into a whole new adventure for others to see and experience what it’s like to actually play in a horror game between BATIM and TADC all together called ✨The Amazing

Digital Ink Machine✨

The Digital Studio in a computer that is filmed to bring others that Virtual Reality life that is part of a bendy and the ink machine vibes,where lots of ink flows from the top to bottom and covered in history that is yet to behold of the ink machine.But like most people that get stuck in a virtual world,it takes your soul to another place and into a different body,making it your mission to complete it or be stuck for all eternity (just like jumanji but different 😁).For your soul can contain lots of digital hallucinations when your stuck in a studio for who knows how long and with the ink flowing,places that can be unlocked,and not knowing who you are by then for it makes a person forget their own existence or the life they thought they knew before or what they will become then………

<><><><><><><><><><><>

{}{}The Storyline{}{}{}{

Pomni was put into the system to discover what has happened to those that went missing in the real world and it’s up to her to find the pieces to this adventure she will be taking by Caine 🖤💛🖤

With each path she takes ,she must find each and one of the pieces to fix this mess that has caused a lot of damage to the system and the people that got stuck in the world as well while facing the one that has caused so many to be stuck in this digital world Ink Demon that trapped other players into this place (those that have gone missing and never returned to the real world or to their real bodies)

for Caine[AI] a companion member,comes along to give pomni some company or to help her as he was programmed to do 🖤💛🖤along with the friends that pomni will get to meet as well

Stuff that will be included in this Au:

Studio underground:

For it will bring out circus vibes to it but also make it look like a old cartoon vibe (like bendy and his friends look like)

NPC:

For they are part of the ink and tend to make it a game when facing them or come across their path throughout the quest

ink-Abstractiors:

They are like the abstraction but as giant ink monsters that leave trails of ink when they are found roaming around the area

(For this is what I got so far of the what will be added on here only because I’m working on other stuff more more often,this will be my side project of The Amazing Digital Ink Machine 💛🖤)

<><><><><><><><><><><>

{Boundaries/QnA}

•”Is this a crossover of TADC and BATIM”

Yes it’s kinda like a crossover between the horror game(BATIM) and the show(TADC)

•”Can I draw these characters?”

Sure thing! Love seeing other peoples amazing art As long as you tag me about it cause I don’t tolerate others trying to steal art idea from anyone

•”Can I make an Oc\Fanart of this Au?”

Yes,I would love to see what other bendy vibes for Tadc you come up with for this Au heh

•”Can I write a fic about this Au”

If you got any other ideas of this Au,I would love to see what others like to create of it hehe that would be great ✨

•”Is NSFW allowed?”

Yeeeeaaaahhhhhh Nnnnooooooo thanks but noooo sorrry 😅

•”Is shipping allowed?”

Of course!but most of the ships will be showtime and Bunnydoll more often

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

(If you have any questions let me know just pls be nice cause I don’t tolerate rude behavior on here and I want to make sure others know that as well)

[frenchkisstheabyss]

⛧ 𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜 ⛧

⛧ Pairing: poly!slasher!minsung x chubby!fem!reader

⛧ Genre: slasher au/horror/fluff/angst

⛧ Summary: It's Halloween 1996, you've just broken up with your toxic ex, and there's a killer on the loose. When you go to the local video store to find your next distraction, you run into your longtime crushes who have their hearts set on looking after you. But you must be careful. Not everyone's who they appear to be.

⛧ Word Count: 2.1k

⛧ Warnings: brief discussion of murder, implied possessive ex, intro to knife play if you squint, suggestive, psycho Minsung, you probably have a killer fetish, & that's all my loves. It's otherwise quite fluffy tbh.

⛧ A/N: I'm starting this series as my love letter to 90's slasher films aaaand because I just love Minsung. I'm writing this in "tapes" instead of chapters for ✨ ambiance ✨ so I hope the vibes come across. I'm already working on part two so I'll have my knives and fingers crossed you babes enjoy this one.

💀 >>> Go to Tape 2 >>> 💀

A bell dings overhead as you step through the door of Topline Video. A crowd of middle school kids dart by, nearly knocking you over in their excitement to get home with some cheesy slasher flick they definitely shouldn’t be watching. All are in full costume, wearing the kind of plastic masks that smell sorta funny when you put them on. 

The kid dressed as a goblin turns back for a second, peeling up the murky green mask to reveal an apologetic face. “Sorry, lady!” he shouts, taking your gentle smile as a sign of forgiveness and racing to catch up to his friends. “Lady?” you whisper to yourself, the door creaking shut behind you, “Great, now I feel ancient.” 

Lucky for you there’s no time for an existential crisis as you’re swept into the frenzy of the video store. The walls are packed with what must be a thousand VHS tapes. Double sided displays line the aisles with hundreds more. Every one of them is some brand of horror movie with even the most obscure subgenre present. 

Black and orange streamers travel from one end of the ceiling to the next with tiny spiders dangling from them. Giant skeletons lurk in the corners guarding jack o lanterns with flickering eyes. Every year people eat it up but this year is particularly spooky. It sends a shiver down your spine when you recall why. 

“I heard they found another leg” a red haired girl says, casually smacking on a piece of bright pink bubblegum. Beside her a shorter girl files through tapes under a large bloody hand drawn sign reading SERIAL KILLERS.

“I thought they already found both of his legs. A guy can’t have three legs.”

The red haired girl shakes her head, smiling mischievously. “That is not true. I hooked up with him once. You could for sure consider that thing a third leg.” The girls break into a fit of giggles. Dodging their insensitivity, you squeeze yourself into the Monster Movie section. 

“Hey Drac” you sigh, staring up at the Dracula cutout looming over you, “I live in a town of idiots.” “You don’t mean everyone, do you?” a voice answers back with the worst Dracula impersonation you’ve ever heard. Suspicious that it isn’t coming from the cardboard cutout, you peek around to see a familiar face stocking the shelves. 

Your heart immediately begins to flutter, a blanket of warmth encompassing you. Han Jisung. If you flip through the dictionary you’ll find him under D for dreamy. The glow of the setting sun kisses his dark curly hair, making it almost sparkle. And those brown eyes, they’re so…no…keep it together. 

“That’s a terrible Dracula voice” you tease, arms folded across your chest. “I don’t know what you mean. Bleh, bleh, bleh” he carries on, pretending to bare his fangs. Now it’s you who’s giggling and you can’t stand how easily he gets you to.

“You are such a dork, Han.”

Returning to his normal voice he only shrugs, “But that’s why you’re so insanely in love with me isn’t it?”

His words intensify the heat moistening your palms. Fidgeting with the sleeves of your jean jacket, you wrack your brain for some witty response only for nonsense to tumble out. 

“No. What? I…uh…um…early.” 

Popping a copy of Megaverse Massacre 2 onto the shelf, Han raises an eyebrow at you, “Early?”

Your brain finally catches up to your mouth and you spit it out. “Uh, yeah, early. I heard you guys were closing early because of the…” 

“Body hacking psycho killer?” a voice cackles, gripping your shoulders from behind. You let out a blood curdling scream that draws the attention of a few nearby shoppers. Swinging around, your fist ready to dish out a debilitating gut punch, you come face to face with Lee Minho. You haven’t quite decided if he can be filed under “dreamy” or “asshole” yet.

Minho grins, never finding you cuter than when he’s getting on your nerves. “I’m sorry, babe. Didn’t hurt you did I?” he teases, straightening out your clothes with a gentleness you weren’t expecting. The sun’s doing that thing again. The sparkle. The glow. The radiant brown eyes searching yours, threatening to make you fall even deeper into them than you already have.

Han dips between the two of you, separating you before you rip Minho’s head off. “I’m sorry. Really. He was deprived of air in the womb. Being an asshole’s just a side effect.” 

Over Han’s shoulder Minho frowns, “Hey! Rude much?” Digging into his pocket, Han pulls out a lollipop. It’s sugar blown into the shape of a blood drenched kitchen knife. “Are you bribing me with a sugary murder weapon?” you ask, staring at it skeptically. Han flashes you a close lipped smile, his cheeks so fluffy it’d be a crime to deny him.

Snatching the lollipop you waste no time popping the wrapper off and tapping Minho on the head with it. “Hey! What was that for?” he winces, wiping lollipop residue from his head. “Sorry, babe” you grin, sucking on your tool of revenge, “Didn’t hurt you did I?” Han buries his face in his hand but it does nothing to hide the joy he takes in his best friend’s pain. 

This is nice. Laughing with someone. With them. It’s been a while since you felt this light around other people. The recent weight on you hasn’t been of some invisible boogeyman sneaking off with one of your limbs. No, your boogeyman was someone you knew well, or at least thought you did, and he’s haunted you every chance he can.

Speak of the devil…

A bell dings, drawing your attention to the door where a man in a demon mask scans the room for someone. You recognize him immediately. Those boots. Those pants. That flannel shirt you always found totally hideous on him. Your heart sinks, the lollipop in your hand tumbling to the floor.

You see Minho and Han’s hearts sink too. It’s as if they sense that any joy you’d been feeling just went down the drain that instant. Minho whispers something into Han’s ear. You can’t make out what, only the calculated tone of his voice. “Hey!” Han says, perking up again, “We’re having a movie night tonight. You should come.”

As the man in the demon mask spots you, your eyes dart back and forth between the men. “A movie night? Sure that would be…I’d like that.”

Han takes you by the hand, “Wicked. Come on, you can pick a movie from the back.” He leads you towards the backroom just as the man advances towards you. Peeking over your shoulder you spot Minho blocking his way. A quick left turn stops you from seeing what happens next, filling your vision instead with tattered old movie posters.

Passing a few of Han’s coworkers, you wave politely and they smile in return. The back room’s like a dustier, quieter version of the sales floor. The walls are still lined with tapes, only there’s no way these have been watched any time in the past decade. Through the dust you see the spine of a tape titled Camp Counselor Sleepover Murder Party 4.

“That one” you decide, stopping dead in your tracks.

Han stops too, squinting to spot what caught your eye, “A woman of taste I see.” 

Pulling it from the shelf, he blows the dust away and hands it to you. “Only the finest for you.”

You feel that lightness again. It's easy to feel it when he smiles at you like this. Such an unexpected but welcomed sense of safety. “Han, thanks for…” you start but the surprise sensation of his lips pressed to yours makes anything you were about to say feel insignificant.

With one hand still holding yours, his other hand comes to rest on your lower back. Your lips are somehow softer than he’d imagined. Even in the absence of the lingering strawberry flavored lollipop, he knows they’d taste just as sweet. Minho’s gonna kill him when he finds out that he kissed you first but nothing could be more worth it.

“Thank me by not worrying about your ex,” he says, “He won’t bother you anymore. I promise.” 

You want to tell him how much he doesn’t understand. That your ex doesn’t give up that easily. But you decide not to ruin the moment, even if letting yourself believe him feels delusional. “Jisung, we need you up front!” one of his coworkers shouts back. He hesitates, unsure if he should leave you or not.

You kiss him first this time, turning him loose, “Go. I’ll be fine back here. Camp Counselor Sleepover Murder Party 1-3 have gotta be rotting around here somewhere right?” One last kiss and he’s rushing back up front, clueless as to how he’s supposed to focus on anything else now.

Turning back to the shelf you realize how big of a challenge you’re in for. Maybe there’s a feather duster somewhere? Or a respirator mask?

“Give it here. That has to be wrong.” Minho approaches the kitchen counter where you sit, playfully swinging your feet. He reaches for the magazine in your hand but you clutch it tightly to your chest, refusing to fork it over.

“Live with it, Minho. You are Suspicious Boyfriend.” 

“Suspicious boyfriend” Han sings, retrieving a bag of freshly popped popcorn from the microwave, “I think it has a ring to it.”

Hopping down from the counter, you skip your way over to Han extending the magazine and the pen in your hand out to him. “Your turn, Hannie.” You see the skepticism all over his face but don’t give up. All torture must be equal after all.

“I’ll take that” Minho smiles, stealing the popcorn for himself.

“Sure. Why not?” Han surrenders, grabbing the magazine and the pen. You and Minho watch on, far more amused than you should be, as Han skims the pages checking off answers to silly personality questions. Pick a country to travel to. Pick a favorite food. Upstairs or downstairs?

After a minute or two he finishes and slides the magazine back over to you. You can barely contain yourself as you assess his results. Leaning across the counter, you share them with Minho who immediately begins to laugh. 

“What’s so funny? What did I get?” Han asks looking so genuinely concerned that you almost feel bad for telling Minho first. Minho empties the popcorn into a bright orange Halloween bowl, shoveling some into his mouth. “Comic Relief Best Friend” he mumbles. Han frowns, coming to see for himself. You hold the results page up for him. 

Which Horror Character Are You?

You point to his score beneath the headline “Comic Relief Best Friend”.

“Oh, okay. So I’m funny and I die before him. Perfect.”

“Aww, come on. Don’t be like that” you say, poking at his chin, “It’s not like I got the best result either. I’m the Final Girl.” 

“What’s so bad about that?” Minho asks, his words muffled by food, “It means you make it to the sequel.” 

“No, it means that I’m boring. Badass but boring. I wanna be the killer. They have more fun.” 

Han shakes his head, a sympathetic hand resting on your shoulder, “I hate to break it to you but you’re not really killer material.” Minho takes your hand like a doctor prepared to give you some bad news, “Yeah, you just…you don’t have it in you, kid.” 

“Don’t have it in me? I do so!” you protest, your tantrum not doing much to make you less adorable. Minho moves toward the knife rack behind him, carefully selecting the biggest, sleekest one he can find. “Okay, so kill me.” 

There’s a long, tense silence.

“Come on. It’s not that hard. Just…” Minho mimes stabbing himself in the chest, his tongue stuck out sideways. “Give it!” you shout, running to take the knife away. Minho catches you by the wrist, slipping the knife into your hand and raising the tip of the blade an inch away from his throat.

“Do it” he dares, his hand tightening around yours, “Prove us wrong.”

There’s an unnerving excitement in his eyes as he awaits your decision. An excitement that doesn’t seem to want you to back away. No, it wants you to come closer. He wants you to come closer.

“Hannie,” you plead, “Can you talk some sense into him please?” Han joins the two of you, saying nothing at first, simply observing. The way that they watch you is intensely sexual and some part of you, one you hadn’t known existed until now, seems to take pleasure in it. 

Han laughs, bringing his arms around your waist, “Oh but sweetie, we’ve played your game. Don’t you wanna play ours now?”

[watchmegetobsessed]

MISTAKEN HATRED

A/N: okay im veeery nervous about this one bc its the longest story i've written in probably months and it took me sooo long to finish it so im just praying its not utter shit 🙃 anywaysss, happy holidays guys! it's not overly festive, but it has some vibes so im labeling it as my xmas fic haha feedback is always appreciated! 🎄

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

SUMMARY: Things don't go as smooth as you planned with your bakery's opening, but you're doing your best to overcome the struggles. However there is one person who is hating on your business as if it was his job: Harry Styles. You just wish you knew what you did to earn his hatred...

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This is not how you imagined the last weeks before your official opening. 

You imagined the interrior to be fully done by now so you can focus on the last touches, ordering the right ingredients and promoting the opening.

Instead, you’re staring at what’s supposed to be your eight tables, intact and put together but it’s all in pieces. You specifically remember the website said they would deliver them done and you wouldn’t have to play puzzles. But they arrived six days late and very much not the way they promised. 

Taking a deep breath you stare up at the ceiling and decide to take the trash out before turning your bakery into Ikea.

“It’s alright. I can do this. I can do anything,” you keep telling yourself as you drag out the trash bags that are almost the size of you. 

You knew opening your own business would be tough. Especially in Eroda, the little town you have some of your earliest memories from, where your grandma used to live, the place that was closest to her heart and it breaks yours to know she couldn’t spend her last years here because she was too sick to live on her own. 

She never asked you to come back here, but the moment you found her recipe books the summer after she passed, you just knew what you had to do. Now it’s been three years and you’re finally opening Nana’s that will bring her warmth and love back to Eroda, or you hope so. 

Pushing the door open with your shoulder, you keep dragging the bags to the containers behind the small shop and you’re so deep in your thoughts you don’t even notice the two people just a couple of feet away.

“Hi, Love!”

You recognize Anne’s sweet, chirpy voice and a smile spreads across your face even before you look up, but the moment you see the person standing next to her, all joy just drains from your body. 

Harry Styles is standing as grouchy and arrogant as always next to his mother, hands hidden in the pockets of his fleece jacket, his unruly curls are tucked underneath his beanie and any normal woman would be into the man, but you. Not after he very clearly let you know you don’t belong here and you should take your business back to the city where you came from. 

You expected some resistance, not much has changed in town in the past decades and you had a feeling some might want to keep it that way, but you guessed older people would riot against your bakery, not a thirty years old grown man. 

“Hi Anne,” you smile back and mustering up all your strength you throw one of the bags into the bin, but you overestimated your muscle work, because it only falls to the edge and almost topples right out. Luckily, you grab it just in time and push it in.

“Oh, dear, those bags are bigger than you! Harry, help her!” 

“No, it’s alri–” 

Before you get to protest, Harry strides over to you and grabs the remaining two bags as if they weighed nothing and throws them into the bin without breaking a sweat. 

Of course he is fit, the man probably runs up the hill carrying twice his weight every morning, because that’s how you can imagine him working out. 

Though you shouldn’t be imagining anything about him.

“Thanks,” you purse your lips and square your shoulders as you face the two of them.

“How is everything coming together?”

Anne has been so enthusiastic about your bakery, she comes around probably every other day, checks in on your progress and always offers her help. 

“Um, it is… okay, I guess,” you let out a tired chuckle. Glancing over at Harry you see him looking to the side, as if he wasn’t even listening, but something is telling you he is very much focused on the conversation.

Yeah, that’s right, I’m still here! Not even your arrogance can chase me away!

Anne cranes her neck, peeking into the shop and she spots the pile in the middle.

“Oh, are you planning to put those together by yourself? Harry, why don’t you help her?”

The moment she suggests, you both protest.

“No, there’s no need.”

“Mum, I don’t really have the time,” he says at the same time, but it doesn’t seem to go through. Anne’s phone starts ringing and she excuses herself, leaving the two of you there. 

Great, this is all you were missing today, an awkward, forced situation with the man who wants to see you gone. Perfect.

“Should’ve ordered them done, don’t you think?” he speaks up, nodding towards the shop.

At first, you just blink at him, then close your eyes and when you open them, you have the fakest smile on your twitching face.

“What a wonderful idea! I totally did not think of that!”

“Then send them back and ask them to bring what you ordered.” He rolls his eyes and it’s irking you so much. You definitely don’t need his stupid advices, not when you’re terribly behind your schedule.

“They arrived almost a week later than they should have, if I send them back there’s now ay they will send me the new ones in time for the opening.”

Harry stands there, staring at the pile of furniture pieces inside and for a moment you think he might actually offer his help, which you’re not sure you’d have accepted, but it remains a mystery, because that’s not what he says when he speaks up.

“I’m busy for real. Mum likes to offer my help around without asking me.”

It takes you a couple of moments to figure out what you feel about what he just said. And when you finally do, you see red.

“As I said, I don’t need help. I did everything by myself and I will get this done as well. I don’t need your unwanted, half-assed effort to pretend like you’re helping me.”

You come off rougher than you probably should have, but he’s been bugging you ever since you moved to Eroda. The man knows nothing about you or your business, yet every time he comes near your shop he acts like it physically pains him to even look at it. He’d be the last person you’d ask for help, he doesn’t have to act like he has so much to do and doesn’t have the time to help when he doesn’t actually want to help. 

Harry stares at you with such intensity you almost break and stutter a sorry out, but that’s when Anne returns.

“Ah, we have to run. But I will come by tomorrow, Darling. And Harry can hel–”

“No need for help,” you smile at her as gratefully as you can force yourself to be in this moment. 

“Alright, then see you later,” she waves and you nod at her before your eyes meet Harry’s one last time before they walk away and you return to your shop. 

It takes you six hours to assemble the tables later that day, but you do it.

With no help. 

Moving to Eroda, it hasn’t been your only goal to have your business become part of the town but you also knew you’d have to become one of the locals as well. Only a handful of people know who your grandmother was and you don’t plan to reveal it until the opening. You want them to taste all the baked goods and think of her first and then put the picture together. But this means you’re a total newbie for most people around. Last time you spent more than just a day here was when you were sixteen and you’ve changed a lot since then, so it’s natural people don’t recognize you. 

Anne has been your biggest help in breaking the ice and involving you in as many things as possible so you get to meet the people of Eroda. The weeks leading up to Christmas are usually filled with all kinds of winter activities locals enjoy wholeheartedly. Concert by the town hall, decorating the trees at the main square, collecting donations and cooking for those in need for example. You’ve been to all of these and very much enjoyed being part of the community. This weekend however, you can’t say you’re looking forward to the new festive activity.

Ice-skating on the frozen lake.

It sounds nice and fun, but you’ve ice-skated only once in your life and ended up breaking your wrist. Not your favorite childhood memory for sure and you don’t exactly want to relive it as an adult. 

You arrive with the intention of just sipping some hot tea and watch everyone else skate around until your fingers are falling off and you can go back to the shop to finish putting up the tinker lights at the back. 

Anne however had different ideas about today. Because as soon as you arrive at the lake, she is waving at you, holding up a pair of skates and you know they are not hers, because she’s already wearing those. 

“Kick those boots off, Love, I brought you my old skates! Come join us!” She smiles brightly at you from next to the pier where people get on and off the ice. 

“Oh, no, I don’t skate, Anne, but thank you!”

“Don’t be silly, even Bernie is on the ice!” She nods towards the old man who must be at least eighty, sliding on the ice as if he did this all his life. He might have, you have no idea.

“It’s really not for me, I–”

“Just try it! Come on!” 

She drops the skates by your feet and then slides away, leaving you no chance to protest.

Staring down at the skates, you can feel your stomach churning, but as you look up you see that literally everyone is on the ice, you’d look weird standing on the pier on your own. 

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you give in and sitting down you start peeling your boots off your feet. 

“You’ll break your ankle if you leave it that loose.”

You know the voice and it just adds to your stress even more. You see his black skates in front of you as you’re trying to lace your own up.

“Hi Harry, so good to see you again,” you hiss through your teeth. 

“Tighten it or you’ll fall.”

“I’ll fall either way,” you mumble as you go back and pull the laces tighter. When you’re done you straighten up, but remain sitting on the end of the pier, anxiously string down at your feet. Harry doesn’t speak, but you know he is still there, probably watching you, trying to figure out what’s wrong with you, why you’re not just standing up and going at it like everyone else. 

Your hands are holding onto the wood underneath you for dear life as you picture yourself finally moving, but you never get to actually acting. 

“Do you need help standing up?” Harry speaks up at last and his voice is different this time. It’s not as arrogant, maybe even concerned. Do you look that awful right now?

“N-No.” Your voice cracks and you hate that it’s him who sees you like this. 

“Doesn’t seem like–”

“Would you stop being an asshole for a moment?” you snap at him and finally look up, eyes meeting his examining gaze. You have no idea what he sees in yours, but a few seconds later he breaks eye-contact, looks around as if he is hesitating before he sits beside you at last.

“You don’t have to skate if you don’t want to.”

“Tell that to your mother,” you mumble under your breath and it makes him laugh.

The sound of it is actually nice, surprising, but nice to hear something other than insults coming from his mouth.

“She can be a bit too much, but she’s just too enthusiastic.” You sit in silence for a bit before Harry turns to you. “You really don’t have to skate.”

“I want to take part, I just… I broke my wrist on the ice once when I was a kid and I haven’t tried skating since then.”

You didn’t plan on telling him much, but you felt like you had to explain why you’re being so dramatic. Part of you is expecting him to make fun of you for being scared of skating because of something that happened ages ago, but the arrogant comments never come.

Instead he stands up and when you look up at him he is holding a hand out to you.

“I’ll help you. You won’t fall.”

Any other day you’d think he is plotting against you, that he would get you to trust him and the trip you the first chance he got, but not this time. He looks and sounds genuine and as you take his hand, you put way too much trust into them than you would have ever allowed yourself to. 

You hold onto him with both hands and he keeps you steady as you finally attempt to push yourself up from the edge of the pier. Your knees wobble the moment your weight is on the blades and you instantly feel yourself losing balance, but Harry’s hands wrap around your arms and keep you from falling.

“It’s okay. Relax a bit, you’ll find your balance.” He encourages you and it’s almost strange to hear him so supportive of anything you’re doing, but not breaking your neck keeps you too busy to care about his random act of kindness. 

“Try to move forward.”

“I can’t,” you protest without even trying.

“You can, just relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax, it’s not gonna help me relax!”

“Y/N, you’re gonna have a panic attack if you don’t relax,” he warns you and you realize how fast you’re breathing and all your blood is being pumped into your head. 

“I-I can’t, I can’t do this, I–”

“Y/N, look at me!” His hands snap to your shoulders and you grab onto his biceps as you look him in the eyes while your chest is still heaving. “I’ve got you, okay? You’re not going to fall. I’m holding you, I promise.”

Focusing on his words you finally forget about your fears and instead, you’re now trying to figure out where this version of Harry came from and why he hid from you all along. 

You’re not one to trust people that easily, but just from this one promise he made, you let go of all your doubts and hesitation. 

“Okay,” you breathe out. Harry nods and his hands slowly slide lower until they rest on your waist. 

“You knew how to skate, right? Before you broke your wrist.” You nod. “Alright, then it will all come back quickly.”

There’s a tiny smile hiding in the corners of his lips and your heart pitter-patters in your chest, but not because of the skating this time. His hands on you are not helping either, because for some reason, you feel heat radiating through the millions of layers you’re wearing where his hands are touching you. 

What is happening?

“Okay, I’ll hold your hand and you just focus on moving forward, yeah?”

You nod and panic rises in your gut for a moment when his hands leave your shoulders, but then they instantly take your hands and you feel safe again. 

Slowly you start moving, inching forward, your hands gripping Harry’s so tight, you’re afraid you might hurt him, but you’d never let go of him, not when you’re getting farther away from the pier. 

“That’s it, you are doing great,” he encourages. “Try to move a bit less rigidly.”

“Easy to say that,” you breathe out shakily. 

It takes time to loosen up even the tiniest bit and not grip Harry’s hand as if you wanted to crush his bones. But as you slowly move around the ice, led by him, you finally get more and more familiar with the feeling of sliding on the ice. 

“See? It’s not that bad,” he smiles when you stop for a short break after circling back to the pier. 

“I still fear for my life, but it’s bearable now,” you nod and he just chuckles.

It looks good on him. His smile is warm and welcoming, it’s a shame it took you so long to see it. You definitely prefer this version of him. 

“Honey, it’s so lovely to see you on the ice!” Anne slides over to you with ease, holding a cup of something warm, probably hot chocolate. 

“Well, it’s not quite my element,” you let out an awkward chuckle.

“You’re doing just fine. Besides, you just snatched up the best skater in town.” Winking, she bumps her hip against Harry’s. Your puzzled look urges her to elaborate. “Harry took over coaching the boys’ hockey team last year, the kids adore him!”

Instantly, you imagine Harry dealing with a bunch of cute kids, cheering on them, teaching them, making them laugh… The image is actually moving something inside you that’s been buried somewhere deep for a while now.

“Y/N, how are things coming together? Everyone is buzzing for the big opening!” Anne does a little dance that makes you laugh, but at the same time, something changes in Harry. 

“Um, it’s going okay. Not how I planned, but I’ll manage.”

“I’m sure everything will fall into place perfectly. And if you need any help just let us know!” She turns to Harry, looking for validation that he is open to lending you a helping hand as well, but his reaction is not quite what she was expecting, probably. 

“Sorry, I gotta go now,” Harry mumbles quickly, his gaze obviously avoiding you or his mother and he skates away so fast you just blink after him. 

“What’s gotten into this boy?” Anne huffs, but she lets go of it fast, starts chatting about something you don’t quite catch, because you just stare after Harry, watching him slalom between the skaters so fast it’s almost aggressive. 

And once again, you feel like you’re back where you began. He hates you and you have no idea what you did against him. 

Theoretically, opening Nana’s two weeks before Christmas was a great idea, because you imagined all the baked goods people would order for the holidays, you knew it would be a great kick start.

Realistically, it means that now you have to do the last touch ups in the harsh winter that’s as cold as the North Pole. Or at least that’s how you imagine the North Pole.

It’s been non stop snowing for the past three days, the fresh, soft looking snow is now covering every bit of Eroda’s breathtaking view and though it’s very festive and nice to look at it from a warm room with something hot to drink, it’s not as relaxing when you’re still working on the bakery, doing the last bits of decorating and starting the first batches of baked goods, because in 24 hours, Nana’s is officially opening its front door to the public. 

You’ve been here since five in the morning, now it’s four in the afternoon but it’s almost entirely pitch dark outside so it feels like it’s nearing ten. The place is not a mess anymore, but the kitchen is, there’s all kinds of dough everywhere, you’re doing everything you can now so there’s less tomorrow, but even with all the work tonight you’ll be here at five in the morning again tomorrow. 

It’s been hours since the last time you looked out the window, so it fully goes over your head how heavy the snowfall has gotten lately, chasing home every soul from the streets. While you’re covered in flour and keep muttering Nana’s recipes to make sure everything is measured right, there is one more person out there who is still not home, battling the weather. 

Harry has been going around town all day, helping out the elderly with either delivering groceries, or repairing the heating, whatever they needed a helping hand with. He’s usually the person one calls in Eroda when something needs to be fixed.

The roads are now not quite safe to be driving around, but with his jeep he’ll be able to get home just before it gets too bad. Or so the thought, but that is until he drives by the bakery and sees the lights on.

At first he keeps driving, telling himself it’s not his business. But the farther he gets the guiltier he feels and then he turns the car around.

You’re too busy to hear the knocking at first, but then you hear it again and know it wasn’t just in your head. Rushing out of the kitchen you stop in front of the door, because through the glass you make out Harry standing there, the snow already covering the top of his head as if he’s been out there for hours. 

“It’s freezing out here, Y/N! Would be nice if you let me in!” he shouts through the glass and you finally snap out of your surprise, unlock the door and Harry practically runs inside. 

“What are you doing here?” You watch him shake the snow off of him and finally turn towards you. For a moment you forget about how you parted ways at the skating, how cold he turned out of the blue after helping you. 

“Funny, I wanted to ask you the same thing. There’s a snowstorm out there, you won’t be able to get home if you stay here!”

“Are you kidding me? I’m opening tomorrow, I have a million things to finish!”

“So you’re risking getting snowed in? Were you planning to sleep here or something?”

“Maybe! Yeah! I need to get a ton of dough ready and I still haven’t put up the tinker lights and I need to clean up…”

Harry stares at you with such a vivid look, you expect him to start screaming at you or something. But he just keeps staring until he finally breaks.

“Okay, where are the lights and where do you want them?”

“What?”

“You’ll spend the night here if you do everything alone. I’ll help and hopefully we’ll be able to leave when it’s all done.”

Now it’s your turn to stare at him as he is looking around, searching for the lights to start working, but you can’t really believe he is about to help you out when he could be home by now. On the other hand, you could really use the help and maybe finish earlier than midnight, so after pushing your surprise to the side you start instructing him. While Harry works on the lights, you return to the kitchen. 

To test out the dough for the croissants, the one thing you’re the most nervous about because it used to be Nana’s specialty, you decide to make a few and pop them in the oven while you do everything else. 

It’s hard to believe you’re finally at this point, so close to the opening, turning your biggest dream into reality. You wish Nana would be here with you today.

“Lights are done.”

Harry interrupts your thoughts and you wipe your floury hands into your apron before following him out of the kitchen to see the work he did.

“Oh my God, this looks perfect!” you gasp, seeing all the tinker lights run along the ceiling and walls, lighting up the place like magic. 

Harry just nods, pressing his lips together, as if it was nothing. 

“Anything else?” he asks.

“Yeah, I have a few pictures I want to hang up and then it’s all done–” The timer in the kitchen goes off, letting you know the croissants are done. “Let me take them out and then I’ll show you where I want them.”

You rush back to the kitchen and take the fresh, steaming croissants out of the oven, completely missing that Harry has followed you and he is now watching you curiously as you take the baked goods off the tray one by one.

“That smells like…” he speaks up, but the words die on his tongue and you just smile, placing one onto a plate, holding it out for him.

“Here, try it.”

He hesitates, but takes the plate at last. Though it’s still hot and he should definitely wait a bit, it’s hard to resist, you know that. You watch him take a tentative bite and wait for his reaction as if he is about to tell you your future. 

“So? How is it?”

“It’s… it’s really… good. Really good.”

It’s obvious he is having a hard time admitting you did something right, but his face says it all. You just don’t understand why he looks kind of puzzled, but you think it’s just because he didn’t expect it to be this good. 

“I bet the croissants will be the bestsellers,” you chuckle as Harry takes bite after bite until it’s all gone. He devoured it so fast it’s incredible. You couldn’t help but focus on his pink lips while he ate and those tiny sounds he let slip… they surely planted some thoughts into your head, thoughts you shouldn’t be thinking of when it comes to Harry.

“Come on, I’ll show you the pictures.” It’s your attempt to clear your mind.

You walk out and grab the box that holds all the framed pictures you want to hang on the walls, of course, all of them feature Nana. 

“Okay, so I thought a few could go over here, and then on that wall as well, and these, I want them behind the counter…” You start explaining your vision, but when you turn around you see that he is staring at a photo in shock. “Harry? What’s wrong?”

You step closer and see that it’s the photo that was taken on your tenth birthday. You’re holding up one of the cupcakes Nana made just for you and she is standing behind you, with her hands on your shoulders. It’s a fond memory, one of your favorite birthdays you ever had. 

“Oh, is it the dungarees?” you ask, pointing at your outfit. “I wasn’t quite the fashion icon back then,” you chuckle.

“No, it’s– who’s this?” he asks, pointing at Nana. You give him a puzzled look, because it’s not rocket science to figure out who the woman in the picture is.

“That’s Nana, obviously.”

“But as in… your grandma?” He finally looks up at you and his face is frantic, as if he is solving a lifelong mystery. 

“Of course, Harry, what is goin–”

“Y/N, Nana was your grandma?”

“Yes!” you laugh in confusion. “Of course she was, that’s why I’m opening a bakery under her name with all her recipes she taught me!”

You can’t read the look on Harry’s face as he puts the photo back into the box and then starts walking around with his hands on his hips. 

“Why do you look like you just learned you were adopted or something?”

“Y/N, I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“That you’re… Nana’s granddaughter. I had no clue.” He runs a hand through his hair and you try your best not to stare at how his bicep flexes in the movement. 

“What? Harry, why else would I be opening a bakery, named Nana’s right here, out of every possible place on Earth?”

“I don’t know!” he admits, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s why I… Okay, this is why I hated the idea so much. Because I knew Nana, I loved her! She was like… my grandma too! And I thought you just chose this name for fun!”

“Are you kidding me?” you huff in disbelief.

“I felt like you were ruining her memory, that’s why I was so against this place. I had zero clue that you are actually… related to her.”

“Oh my God, Harry!” There’s nothing else you can do other than just… laughing. This whole situation feels oddly comical, like something that only happens in movies. 

“I know, I’m sorry!” He exhales sharply and you truly see the regret on his face. “I was such a dick.”

“Yes you were!” you laugh in agreement. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Well, now at least I know why you were my biggest hater all along.”

“Not anymore!” He holds up his hands and finally breaks a smile that looks so fucking handsome, it makes you forget about everything in a second. 

Turning to the side he stares out the window for a moment before looking back at you.

“The snowing has stopped, let’s wrap things up and go home, alright? Big day tomorrow.”

You both go back to work, Harry finishes quite fast with the pictures so then he helps you clean up in the kitchen and you notice how obviously different the vibes are now. There’s no trace of his usual hostile behavior, in fact he is so open as he asks you about Nana and how the idea of the bakery came. Then he tells you about her as well, how he has known him for so long and after the passing of his stepdad Nana helped him through the toughest time of his life. You’re surprised the two of you never met when you were visiting, but you believe in faith and it must be because it wasn’t the right time. 

It’s almost ten by the time you’re locking up while Harry is scraping the snow off his jeep. It’s rather eerie to see the town so empty, but it’s also pretty, the untouched snow covering every inch of the scenery. 

“Thanks for the help. And the drive home,” you say when he has parked in front of your house. 

“I’ll pick you up in the morning as well.”

“What? There’s no need, Harry–”

“Just accept the help,” he flashes you a crooked smile. “I have a lot to make up for.”

“What if I say you’re forgiven?”

“Then I’ll do it because I want to spend time with you.”

His answer comes so fast and honest, you can’t mask the surprise on your face as you stare at each other in the dark car.

“Um, alright then. See you in the morning.”

“Good night. Y/N.”

You fumble with the belt and then climb out of the car, still feeling kind of giddy from his words. He waits for you to get to the front door and you wave at him before walking in. Through the closed door you hear the engine roar and he drives away, leaving you with quite a lot to digest.

Never in a million years did you imagine the opening of Nana’s to be like this. The small bakery is full to the brim, there are people everywhere, you haven’t stopped thanking everyone for the love and support and your heart leaps in your chest every time you hear someone talk about your beloved grandma. All the pastries are selling well, but as expected, the croissants are the biggest hit. 

But it’s not just the opening that has you smiling ear to ear.

Harry did show up early in the morning and he’s been helping you out all day as if he was getting paid for his work. In the kitchen, at the counter or by the tables, he’s been a one person army and your hero. You couldn’t have done it without him. 

You have just a couple of seconds to breathe between two customers and you peek over the crowd, spotting him right away by the table his mom and her friends occupy. He just made them laugh and he’s basking in their attention as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up, revealing his tattooed arms. 

Fuck, he looks so good, it’s criminal. 

Now that he is not an asshole to you anymore, it’s pretty hard not to notice everything you’ve been trying to ignore about him. His charming dimples, his bouncy curls, the way he throws his head back when he laughs, how his nose moves when he talks, they was his hips sway when he’s walking… there is not one inch on the man you can critique.

The situation would be a lot worse if it was one-sided, but it appears that Harry is just as keen on being around you, always touching your lower back when he walks behind you, or brushing your arm to get your attention. 

“I’m seriously writing you a paycheck when it’s over,” you tell him when he returns behind the counter grabbing some cinnamon rolls to bring to the ladies by the window.

“I thought that we were already over this, Y/N,” he smirks and you bite into your bottom lip as you turn back to the customer in front of you. 

It kind of goes by in a blur, there’s so much happening, you’re always on the move and before you could even process the events, the day is over and Nana’s is closing for the first time. After the constant crowd, it’s weird to see the place empty again, but seeing that everything has sold, it finally settles in your mind: you did it.

As you turn the sign on the door your eyes slide over to the picture on the right. It was taken in Nana’s kitchen, you were about six or seven, the two of you are photographed from behind as you stand on a stool, next to Nana at the counter while she is teaching you how to make bread. The memory still lives vividly in your mind even though it’s been over two decades.

“She would be so proud of you.”

Turning around you find Harry behind you with a soft smile on his lips, his eyes on the photo at first, then they move to you and your heart skips a beat.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” he chuckles.

“So, I was serious. I owe you a paycheck after today.”

He rolls his eyes before arching an eyebrow at you.

“And I was serious when I said I don’t want anything in return.”

“You’ve been here since six, Harry!” you huff out a laugh. “I would feel so bad if you just went home without anything.”

He stares at you for long moments and you start to think he’ll just let you suffer with your guilt, but then he speaks up.

“Go on a date with me then.”

You suck on your breath as your eyes lock with his.

“What?” you whisper.

“Go on a date with me, Y/N. Will you?”

“I-If you’re still trying to make up for–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not. I told you, I want to spend time with you.”

You blink at him once, twice, as if you’re waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he stands his ground with a serious look.

“Are you gonna leave me hanging?” he smirks, snapping you out of your haze.

“Yes–I mean, yes to the date!” you shake your head, clearing up your answer.

“I was afraid you hated me too much to give me a chance,” he breathes out a shaky laugh.

“I never hated you, I was just confused. You were the one who hated me.”

“I couldn’t hate you, Y/N. And believe me, I tried.” You both laugh at his words. “I was frustrated, because I wanted to hate you and this place so badly, but still… I was drawn to you.”

“You were?” you ask, your voice barely more than just a whisper.

“You have no idea how much,” he admits with a soft smile, stepping closer to you. “When we were skating, I totally forgot about everything and just wanted to hold your hand and help you. It was like a slap across my face when mum brought the opening up and I remembered I was supposed to hate you,” he admits with a chuckle and e inches even closer. “I’m glad I don’t have to try to hate you anymore.”

“I’m glad too.”

He is right in front of you, his face only inches away from yours and you suck on your breath when he reaches up and takes your chin between his index finger and thumb, angling your head further up so your lips are now perfectly lined up with his.

His eyes move down to your mouth, then up to meet your gaze and even without words you know he is asking for your permission to kiss you. You push closer and he is quick to close the distance and press his lips against yours.

You’d be lying if you said you never imagined what it would be like to kiss Harry. Because you did, several times. But nothing compares to having him wrapped around you, his lips so soft yet rough against yours at the same time as he kisses you over and over again while you’re fisting the collar of his shirt so tight your fingers are turning white. 

Maybe you kiss for hours, or maybe it’s just minutes, you have no clue, but when he finally pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, you just know your life is about to turn upside down.

“Changed my mind,” he speaks up at last.

“Huh?”

“About the payment.”

His words sink in slowly and your eyebrows rise.

“Oh.” Harry laughs at your reaction.

“I want my payment in kisses,” he then says with the cheesiest smile you’ve ever seen on his handsome face.

“That could be arranged,” you breathe out when you finally get what he was talking about and grabbing the back of his neck you pull him in for another one. 

And another one.

And some more.

And just like that Nana somehow brought another wonderful thing into your life, even though she is not here anymore.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[justnatoka]

Deliver me from darkness

Poly! The Lost Boys x GN! Reader

A/n: This piece is very special to my heart. This is for everyone who felt self-hatred before or like they didn’t deserve to be loved (me included). Of course, these issues are not so easy to solve, but I hope this little thing can make at least a few people feel better. Please, if you know someone who has these thought, show them kindness, a few caring words really can go a long way.

Word count: ~3.2k

Warning: depressive thoughts, feelings of self-hatred, of not being enough, self-isolation, angst with a happy ending

Prompt: “Nobody’s seen you in days.”

Song recommendation: In The Androgynous Dark by Brambles (I know it doesn't fit the vibe of the movie, but it's what I was listening to while writing.)

The fluttering of wings infiltrated the quiet of your bedroom. A slight push, and your windows slowly opened, bringing with them the scent of the warm summer night. Your heavy curtains that kept the room dark for the last couple of days got caught in the breeze, and in the small gap between them a sliver of moonlight stretched across your floor. It was soon blocked out, however, as a familiar figure stepped into the room, pausing for a second as he noticed the lump of blankets on the bed. When all he could hear was soft breathing, he made his way over there, his footsteps echoing loudly in the stillness.

You knew who he was the second he entered, the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to him like a second skin. And as you felt the bed dip behind you and a hand on your shoulder above all the layers, you could faintly make out a scent underneath, one that was all him, so indescribably David.

“Nobody’s seen you in days, darling. We were starting to get worried. I came to check on you.” He spoke with such tenderness, as if afraid that you would shatter any second. It was a tone so uncharacteristic of him, but it made your chest ache with longing. When you didn’t answer, he continued. “Can you say something? Just so I know you’re alright?”

You wanted to scoff at that. You were obviously not alright, and he could clearly see that as well.

“Why did you come here, David?” Your voice sounded rough and unfamiliar, not having been used in a while, and although you couldn’t see it, his eyebrows furrowed in concern at the sound.

“Like I said, we were worried. You didn’t come to meet us on the boardwalk, and none of us heard from you in a while. We even went to ask Michael if he knew anything.”

As he was explaining, you slowly tuned him out, not wanting to hear anymore, not wanting to listen to his concern. It only made you feel more miserable. When he stopped, you spoke up again.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” you whispered. Sensing his confusion you added, “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

David’s heart clenched at how pathetic you sounded, and it only made him more sure of himself.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere, and neither are they.”

You heard whispering as more people stepped in through your window. They were probably waiting outside for a sign to come in, not wanting to overwhelm you all at once. The thought caused your chest to ache even more.

“We won’t let you suffer alone, sugar,” Marko declared.

“We’re here to take care of you, dollface,” Paul added.

“Whatever you need,” Dwayne finished.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you finally made a move, slowly turning over and looking at them. Their heart broke when they took in you appearance. You hair was a mess, your skin pale and tired, your eyes puffy and red from crying, fresh tears running down your cheeks. You looked sad and exhausted, and all they wanted was to take the pain away from you, to see your sunny smile once again.

Paul was the first to move. “Oh, honey,” he sighed as he came over, scooping you up and into his lap, enveloping you in his arms. You sniffled as you buried your face into his chest. You felt more hands on you, Marko draping himself over you from the other side, and Dwayne sneaking his arms around all three of you. Not feeling like he had any space left in the group hug, David opted to link his fingers with yours, holding your hand and caressing your knuckles gently.

Feeling all this love around you, you broke down. This time, crying your heart out actually felt cathartic, not full of bitterness and sorrow like the past few days. As if their mere presence, the smallest sign that they cared, that someone cared at all opened the floodgates and washed away all the miserable thoughts you bombarded yourself with while no one was watching.

Their love was overwhelming. It’s what drove you to lock yourself away in a dark moment, the small voice in your head slowly poisoning your mind with doubt. Not feeling like you deserved any of it, your thoughts spiraled, constantly questioning why they chose you, hurling insult after insult towards yourself until you felt like breaking. After a while, there was just numbness, having tired yourself out with trying to withstand the waves of self-hate. But it was also their love that drove the darkness away, and as your sobs quietened down, so did the small voice in the back of your head. When you lifted your head, your eyes meeting David’s over the limbs and shoulders, all you saw was affection and reassurance, and after a long few days, you finally started to feel like you were going to be alright.

When they felt you shift, the boys unwrapped themselves from around you. Your heart swelled as you saw the tear tracks on Paul’s cheeks, moved that he cared enough to cry for you. You reached over and wiped them down, not wanting to see him sad anymore. You couldn’t help but notice that Marko’s eyes also glistened suspiciously, but he turned away, rubbing at his own face in hopes you wouldn’t see.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dwayne’s gentle voice drew your attention.

“No, at least not now,” you shook your head, your voice hoarse from all the crying. “Maybe I’ll be ready to talk about it later, but right now I just want to be with you guys.”

He nodded in understanding. “We’ll be here when you’re ready.”

You took his hand and gave it a thankful squeeze, your words failing you. He smiled back at you warmly.

“Well then,” David spoke up, his gloved hand still holding your own. “How about we help make you feel better, kitten? Come with me, let’s take a warm shower while the boys set everything up.”

He was already pulling you with him, out of your cocoon of blankets, out of the bed you barely left in the past few days. The only time you got up was to get something to eat from the kitchen or dragging yourself to use the bathroom, your limited amount of willpower only able to do so much. Now you let him guide you out the door, sending one last glance behind him at the others, silently communicating as you’ve seen them do so many times before, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by ‘set everything up’.

He brought you to the bathroom, letting go of your hand to turn on the faucet, even pulling off his glove to check the temperature. When he was satisfied, he started making his way towards the door to give you some privacy. A sudden desperation clenched your lungs, and the next instant you were holding onto his hand tight. His face mirrored your own surprise, both of you caught off-guard by your fast movements. You felt your stomach flip, anxiety gradually turning into embarrassment, and you had to drop your gaze to the floor.

“Could you… would you stay with me?” You had to force the words out of your mouth. Shame crept into your mind about how pathetic you sounded, but after the last few days the thought of being alone for just a second sounded even more unbearable. After a long moment, gentle fingers cupped your cheek, the chill from his bare skin creeping into your own. David brought your gaze back up at him, and every little doubt disappeared at the understanding that radiated from his cool blue eyes.

“Of course I’ll stay, kitten, if that’s what you need.”

A smile turned the corners of your lips upward, a small one, but a smile nonetheless.

“There you are,” he teased softly. “That’s my darling I like to see.”

When your smile grew even brighter, he looked visibly relieved, feeling glad that he could finally pull you out of that suffocating cocoon of darkness bit by bit. He sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, making himself comfortable. You looked at him fondly a moment longer, letting the bathroom fill with steam from the hot water, fogging up the mirror. You wondered if he was feeling warm in all those layers as you turned your back at him and started peeling off your own clothes.

Your embarrassment returned when you felt his eyes on your bare back, your shirt dropping to the floor, soon joined by your pants and underwear. You felt completely bare standing in front of him in every sense of the word. He’s seen you naked before, they all have, but this was the first time you’ve been so vulnerable. You didn’t share your dark thought with people, not wanting to hear their pity, not wanting to seem as weak as you felt sometimes. But for the first time, he’s seen your everything, all your flaws and doubts and fears. It was a whole new type of nakedness, and it made you self-conscious. However, when you turned around to face him, all you saw was love in his eyes, and just like that, baring your soul didn’t feel so scary anymore. You knew this was a huge step, a new, deeper kind of trust was forming between you, and it made you feel safer than ever.

You stepped under the warm spray of water, not bothering to close the shower curtains all the way. You didn’t feel the need for it anymore, you had nothing to hide, and in your current state, you couldn’t care less if water got all over your floor anyway. Slowly, the tension in your muscles started to ease up, the hot shower washing away any remnants of the dark cloud that’s been festering in your mind. And you were pretty sure that David’s presence just a few feet away had a lot to do with that too. Just knowing that he’s there was enough.

As you got out of the shower, feeling refreshed and warm after the grime and sadness of the past few days have been washed away, David was already waiting for you with a towel. He wrapped you up, rubbing over your arms and back as you leaned into him, burying your nose against his collar and breathing in his scent.

“I’m gonna bring you some clothes, okay? I’ll be right back.” He seemed just as reluctant to let go as you were, but the shower helped, and you nodded, signaling that you would be alright to stay alone for a few minutes.

As he opened the door to leave, the sound of Paul and Marko bickering filtered into the bathroom along with clattering and something crashing. David and you shared a look.

“It’s okay, go and sort it out. I’ll be fine,” you reassured him. He let out a sigh as left to see what the hell those two were up to. Before you closed the door behind him, you could hear his chastising voice, followed with Marko’s complaining, and you cracked a smile.

By the time David came back, you’ve already dried you hair and was just sitting around, waiting for him. Accepting the pajamas he brought you, you dropped the towel and started getting dressed. This time, the feeling of his eyes on your body stirred something inside you, but you pushed it aside. There will be time for that later, when you didn’t feel so raw, when the memory of your pain wasn’t so fresh.

After you finished, he took your hand again and guided you back into your room. You were amazed at how different it felt now, as if someone sucked out all the darkness and negativity while you were in the shower. You had a feeling that Dwayne had something to do with that, as he was just finishing up with piling every pillow he found in the house on your bed. He had changed the sheets, and made a little nest from pillows and blankets that you honestly couldn’t wait to sink into. You also noticed that all the trash you accumulated the last few days and couldn’t bother to clean up, every single food wrapper, empty water bottle and used tissue disappeared. He even found some candles god knows where and lit them up around the room, creating a truly cozy atmosphere. The curtains were fully open now, the balmy summer night air seeping in through the open windows.

Dwayne raised his head when he heard your footsteps, and by the way his eyes wandered from you to David, you were sure he felt that something had changed between you two. Guided by a sudden urge, you went over to him and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into his chest, wanting to reassure him that you were better now. You felt him hugging you back, but you couldn’t see him exchanging a look with David over your head, the leader sending him a silent answer to his unspoked question. He smiled at last, satisfied with what he heard, and finally letting himself really sink into your embrace.

The moment was broken by the sound of more footsteps and bickering back and forth, stopping at the door, then everything went silent.

“Babe?” Paul’s voice was hesitant, but as you unwrapped yourself from Dwayne, turned around and smiled at them, all his worry seemed to disappear. A huge grin lit up both his and Marko’s faces, and quickly discarding what was in their hands, they were on you the next second, wrapping you in a tight hug from both sides, almost knocking you over.

“It’s so good to see you smiling again, sugar,” Marko laughed into your ear from behind, while Paul peppered kisses all over your face, causing you to burst out in giggles as well. You couldn’t help but feel your heart grow twice in size, so full of love for these four. A few tears escaped your eyes, and hearing you sniffle softly, they instantly let you go, fussing over you with panicked faces.

“It’s okay, guys, these are happy tears,” you smiled, your voice thick from all the emotions you felt at once. Paul moved to wipe them away from your cheeks, just like you had done to him before. The moment he was out of the way, Marko pulled you against him, his fingers digging into you as he held you tight, his forehead resting on your shoulder.

“We were so worried when you didn’t show up for days. You could’ve gotten hurt for all we knew,” he mumbled against you. “And when we came to check on you and saw that you really were hurting and didn’t tell us I couldn’t… I felt to useless. I felt like I failed you.” His voice cracked at the end, and a fresh bout of tears escaped your eyes as you tightened your hold on him, your fingers sneaking into his hair and stroking his head.

“I’m sorry I made you worry. But you are not useless, you hear me? Do not blame for yourself for this. I should have come to you when I first started slipping into darkness. But that doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that you are here right now, and that’s more than enough,” your voice started to waver. “I love you all so much. And even though I might have some similarly dark moments in the future, I want you to know that you make me so incredibly happy, and I couldn’t be luckier to be loved by all of you.”

By now, tears were flowing freely from your eyes again. However, these weren’t tears of sadness anymore, but of healing. It took a few more minutes for Marko to let go of you, and as you looked into his eyes after retreating from his embrace, they were as red as your own. You sent him a watery smile, and swore to yourself deep within your heart that you would do everything in your power to not make him cry again.

“So,” you started, not wanting to talk about sadness anymore that night, “what were you guys doing in my kitchen?” you peered over Marko’s shoulder to discover two big trays they discarded on top of your dresser when they came in. They were practically overflowing with stuff.

“Oh, right,” Paul picked them up and brought them over one by one, setting them on the coffee table they brought in from the living room. “We got some snacks and some takeout, and we even made hot choco.” He looked very proud at that. “We would have marshmallows in it if someone hadn’t forgotten about them.”

“Hey, I told you already, that was your job,” Marko countered.

“No, it wasn’t!”

“Guys, it’s fine,” you chuckled. “It’s going to be just as good without marshmallows.”

“No, it’s not,” Paul pouted. “I wanted everything to be perfect for you.”

Your heart swooned. “I appreciate it, Paulie. That fact that you guys did all this for me,” you motioned over your little cozy setup of pillows and blankets and snacks, “is already more than enough.”

He seemed to relax at that, his ever present smile sneaking back onto his face.

“And there’s one more thing,” he pulled out a VHS of your favourite movie, having gotten it from the video store earlier. He put it in the player under your small TV, and as the opening credits started to roll, he pulled you with him onto the bed, positioning you into his lap, your back against his chest, cuddling up to you.

“Dude, don’t hog our sweetheart,” Marko complained, already next to you and draping your legs over his lap.

Dwayne handed you a mug of hot choco before settling down on your other side, taking one of your hands in his. Not having any more room right around you, David draped himself over the foot of your bed, resting his head against one of your pillows. He didn’t mind it, the precious moments the two of you shared in the bathroom earlier satiated his need for your attention.

Not long after everyone settled, right before the movie really started to pick up, you felt Dwayne gently squeeze your hand. Glancing up at him, you already found him looking at you, his eyes filled with fondness.

“If you feel like you’re starting to sink again, just tell us,” he whispered. “We’ll be there. We will always be there.”

You heart swelled at his words, nodding that you understood. And you did. You knew that after this night, you bond with them will be even stronger, your trust even deeper, and your love even more all-consuming.

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

[deathricedrawn]

girl peri if u even gaf (more stuff below)

This piece was made for personal use as an icon!!! for me!!! if u want to use it tho go ahead!

I love Women and i love Peri from fopanw so i made peri from fopanw into a girl and I LOVE HERRRR SHES SO CUTE. This is my interpretation of her!!!!! shes kind of like an oc to me

This isnt like a genderbent au where like, everyones gender is swapped. Only peri and irep turn into Girls and everyone stays the same👍 That being said I'm kind of projecting my gender identity onto girl peri and she's actually genderfluid instead of being a Binary Girl. Sometimes she feels very comfortable being feminine and a Girl but sometimes she also feels masculine and like a guy, just with feminine presentation. Shes like the "how i look with he/him pronouns in my bio" meme. On that same topic, i like to think she goes by she/him pronouns (though i refer to her with she/her so people dont get her confused with Canon Peri🤘)

Heres a doodle i did when figuring out her design. Her hair is VERY soft and i ended up going with a lighter shade of purple for her hair than depicted here to give her a softer/more whimsical feel.

I like girl peri because her vibe is basically like... charismatic woman who comes across as very confident and as if she has everything together and Is A Normal Person, but shes just Not. Shes quick to unravel when faced with the Tons Of Demands from her godkid Dev and her ex.

Speaking of her ex...

BUTCHFEMME PERIEP🗣🗣🗣!!!!!!!! I made this doodle very quickly so its kinda ass but idgaf

I havent thought about him much yet but Irep is a he/him butch (i might slap she/her onto that too, so him and peri are matching but like flipped. so he/her and she/him solidarity🤝). Peri and Irep are both lesbians!!!! YAY!!!!!!

Okay i hope you guys enjoyed my rambles idk what im doing YAYYY Lmk if u wanna see more of girl peri and butch irep. Ill see what i can do🫶

[twirlingsmilingwriting]

Tolerate it || Young!Coriolanus Snow X Reader

"I sit and watch you reading with your... head low"

Truly feeling like the luckiest person alive when your former classmate and short term boyfriend asked you to marry him. Not even a year into the marriage and also a year into his presidency does the original love and admiration you felt from him start to dissipate. You can't help but feel trapped and tricked into a marriage in which he may have never loved you to begin with. Warnings: Angst, Love-Bombing, marriage, gender ambiguous reader, typical snow tags (manipulation), social isolation, alluding to sexual acts but not described, kissing Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I was listening to Evermore after watching tbosas and Tolerate It was just SCREAMING Snow vibes. I was fidgeting with the gold charm of my pearl necklace while anxiously looking over at my husband whose nose was too deep into a book to seem to care about me. I dropped my gaze from him to scan across the table and room. Our large dining room was red with gold accent pieces I had spent the morning dusting decorating the walls. We both sat at opposite ends of the long table, ever too long to just seat two people but it seemed the man couldn't do anything at home if he was within five feet of me. A bouquet of roses I placed in a ceramic vase sat between us on the table. He loved roses, he always did, so I placed them there to brighten his day and maybe even spark up conversation between us. I polished the plates we ate on delicately and even spent the afternoon painting designs onto the back of them. I had done all this in hopes I'd receive some sort of compliment from him but alas, there was none. I sat back and reminisced on the days of our love before it was like this. Truly, when I had first married Coriolanus I had felt like my life had started a new chapter. We dated in the spring and summer time of the year after we graduated from the academy. He was top of the class and while I never matched him in intelligence he had seemingly randomly taken a liking to me. We were acquaintances at most before that and then he started talking to me any chance he could get. I would gush to my friends about his charming smile and posture and they would warn me of the rumors that went around about him. They would tell me to never get to close to him as all those who got did would end up disgraced, missing, or dead. In some masochistic way, I truly felt enthralled by his magnetic aura, danger, and the mystery that surrounded him. His bright red coat was as red as the flags that man was but the danger of it all excited me. He wasn't the nicest man out there but when he was nice to me, I felt unique. I was the exception to his coldness.

We'd go out on dates and he would shower me with sweet nothings. He would tell me how I was the light that lit up the darkness of his life. He said my beauty could turn a man to stone. I will never forget the way he kissed me on the busiest street in the capital under the dancing streetlights and how I felt like time had stopped in that moment. The way he stroked the side of my face so delicately and told me I was the only one who had ever made him feel so alive. I was holding onto every breath that man had exhaled hoping he'd inhale me further into his life. We'd spend days together and call at night. I didn't notice it at the time but in retrospect it was tactical. I spent every moment of my waking days with him and soon my life started to be built around him. Every phone call from a friend I received that spoke about him in any negative way made me push them away and out of my life even further. He was the only one I talked to. He is my world. We were two seeds that had gotten dropped into the same pot and were growing into each other.

In the fall, I fell for him harder than I ever had before. It came to a height when we were walking through a park and watched as the changing leaves fell from the trees. He held my hand in his and he held me so tight as if he was afraid I'd float away and leave him. I would never of course, my life would bend to his will. My head rested against his arm like the red coat he always wore. He'd recount to me stories of his life that would make me laugh and smile. His strikingly blonde hair blew in the wind softly and I noticed every detail of how his icy blue eyes would crinkle when he'd smile at me. He was like a beautiful painting whose artist was unknown. I remember thinking that all I would ever want to be in this life is as significant to him as he is to me. I remember the earth shattering halt my heart felt when he turned to me and dropped down to one knee and proposed. A smirk plastered his face when I said yes. He stood back up and pulled me in by the waist. One hand on my chin and the other on my lower back. The feeling of his warm, soft lips on mine and the feeling of his hair tangled between my fingers. I remember the ecstasy of the moment and the feeling that my friends were wrong, the world was wrong, no one knew Coriolanus like I knew him. He wasn't a cold, calculated, and constantly plotting man, he was just misunderstood. When he pulled away from the kiss, he whispered in my ear that he would live a thousand life times if it meant he got to love me in the next. I remembered everything.

That was the first night we spent together. He snuck me into his house and we giggled in his bedroom when he shut the door. We told each other secrets and moved the furniture so we could dance. My head was placed onto his chest and we swayed to the sound of the music playing from his grandmothers record player. We shared moments of passion in his bed, fell asleep in each others arms, and woke up tangled in bed sheets. I remember thinking he was truly mine.

We married shortly after in the beginning of December. The ceremony was lavish and beautiful. I remember the way his fingers tucked my hair behind my ear. A single tear fell from his eyes and he leaned in and kissed me. He must've been so taken aback from my beauty as I was with his. Only one of my friends attended the wedding but I was too happy that I was marrying the man of my dreams to care. The first weeks of our married life were wondrous. He had risen to power and we had moved into the absolute gargantuan mansion we live in today. He couldn't seem to keep his hands off me and I was the diamond of his eyes. He loved to show me off for the cameras and crowds. Then one day, winter came and roses don't survive.

It started off small. He didn't want to talk or cuddle in bed at night anymore. I assumed he was just tired from working so hard. Then he stopped complimenting my outfits or hair, trading them with passive aggressive comments and ways I could improve myself for him. He no longer wanted to talk at dinner. We stopped speaking at some point. He wouldn't want to hear my voice unless it was to service him. In public, he still was my adoring husband but in private, I felt like I was living with a stranger. At night, I can hear him whispering sweet nothings to the air and humming melodies and I can only hope he's dreaming about me.

These days, I haven't been sleeping, I've been trying to listen in and see if I can make out the words he is saying in his sleep but I haven't been able to make out any other words than lines about trees. While he is having his meetings all day, I am constantly doing new diets, trying new makeup, new hair, decorating the house differently, leaving loving notes on his desk, anything to try and earn a compliment from him. Even if a compliment is too much, I am begging for a word from that man. I love him. I still love him. I don't believe it is possible for me to stop loving him. I can't dare to think of loving any one else. He is so much wiser, and smarter, and more beautiful than I am and I find myself becoming the moon to his earth. I spin around him, pulled in by his orbit except, I'm not his moon. I'm just a star in his sky that is begging to be his sun. I just want a footnote in the story of his life. Even an annotation on a page of his story will be enough for me.

The sound of him placing his heavy book onto the table pulled me out of my trance and my eyes met his blue ones once more. Instantly, I am struck frozen. His eyes had such a way of pulling you in. I looked down at his lips as they pressed a small smirk and his eyes squinted a little while he picked up his fork from the table and looked at me. He examined my appearance and I sat up straighter. The thick tension in the air put me on edge. Finally, his lips parted and he spoke.

"Is that a new hair color?" he asked, keeping his eyes laser focused on me.

"It is... d- do you like it?" He looked me over again and leaned back in his chair contemplating what to say next. Then, shortly, sweetly, and sharply, he muttered the word,

"Tolerable"

~

PART TWO PART THREE

[swagginmun]

Hello!

I just wanted to tell you that your art and way of storytelling is AMAZING. You're one of my biggest inspirations, and one of the people who got me into LMK (which I am very grateful for! Thank you so much)!!

I also have two questions for you (if you're not too busy! I dont want to bother you-)

What's your process for making illustrations? Yours look so pretty and they are so wonderful to look at!

And, what's your tips for anyone who wants to make a LMK fan-comic, but is a little scared to get something wrong? (Like good representation and cultural no-nos for example. I've done research, but the internet can be a little confusing and messy about topics like this, so I wanted to ask for help!)

I do hope that I'm not bothering you in any way!

Have an amazing day/night!

This is an oldie ask, apologies, but I do have a better way to answer this now! Typically, when I work on my pieces, I have 4 main phases: Roughs, Lines, Flats, and Renders! I'll use this Nezha piece as an example!

My Roughs stage includes getting references, color themes I may want, and feeling out the general vibe I want out of a piece! For this one, I really wanted to push Nezha's face expression (my main) as well as try to emphasize the speed at which he was moving.

Once I do that, I try to space out everything in the background, and refine the sketch with one more rough draft before moving on to the lines!

The Lines stage is pretty self-explanatory: this is when I line everything and make additional changes I may not have thought of from the Roughs stage: For this one in particular, I remember wanting to add details of more wear and tear, such as the sash being a bit damaged, or his bracelet getting cracks, or his face being a little scuffed up.

Next up: Flats! This is when I would flat color, as well as adjust the lineart to have colored lines (its already colored in the prior screenshot, but my lineart starts out all black) I find coloring the linart helps make the colors feel more "lived in" for lack of a better phrase

Finally, the render portion, which usually starts with the BG for me most times; I find if I know the environments colors/lighting it helps concrete where light is affecting the characters

This is your overlays, mutiply, and shine layers in action! Flat coloring makes my soul itch, but rendering really helps quell that pain for me; esp if I get to work with gold/hair shine! I hope that was helpful! And as far as advice for respecting cultural-related things, honestly, as an American I don't know much in the realms of specifics, but I do know to try to have basics understood, which I gather from what has been made thus far within LMK, reading the source material/fact checking information I come across, my own experience of being black in America, and reviewing travel advise funny enough. I wish you a good luck with your artistic journey homie!

[notsopersonalcharlie]

Won't Let You Go, Belle

Biker!Bucky Barners x afab!reader smut

Summary: A flashback to Bucky and Belle's first date... and to fulfil some of Bucky's longstanding thoughts.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, porn with plot, kinda long, mentions of previous shitty boyfriend that i've referenced before, Bucky is bad at dates but good at sex, daddy kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, praise kink, p in v sex, i think that's everything

Notes: bringing anon (and my) dreams into reality. It did end up a little sweeter than expected but its because im a SAP. More Biker!Bucky content here

You stared at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom. You had put on makeup in a way you never did for other dates. You were usually very internally strict about what you did to make a date go well. Something about Bucky though... After he had ensured his extra helmet was strapped comfortably across your chin and your feet were in the right place, so you didn't burn your calves, it had felt uncomfortably natural to wrap your arms around his thick chest. You were sure he could feel your heart beating overtime in your chest when you leaned forward. You just hoped the rumble of the bike made it impossible to feel it.

Bucky was an experienced biker. He knew that. His friends knew that. Every piece of his instinct that came from riding across the country, in war zones, and across the city all came in handy as soon as he felt your hands tighten around him. You chest against his back made his heart beat so loud he thought there was no way you wouldn't hear it over the rumble of the bike.

"I've never been on a motorcycle before," you said quietly when you stopped in the driveway of the garage. The hum of the bike stopped made everything sound quiet in your ears. You understood Steve's loud projection which had startled you earlier.

"Well, I'm glad you had a good trip. Steve should be here soon," Bucky said gruffly, taking the helmet gently from your hands and stowing it away. He led you into the office of the shop. There were a few people sitting with bikes and chatting or working on cars inside the garage, who watched passively, but you followed into a closed office and Bucky left the door open behind you before sitting down on the other side. You felt awkward, but sat in the seat across from him. It felt odd after being so close to him for ten sweltering minutes. You could feel it between your legs.

"Steve'll be here soon." Bucky looked down at some papers and pulled open a binder.

"You said that already." His blue eyes flickered to you and you tried to take a full breath, but it ended up being loud and strange. You tried to stifle the expression you wanted to make out of your awkwardness.

And now you were standing in the bathroom of this steakhouse, feeling exactly the same way. Bucky had been nothing but sweet, interested in what you did and ordering what you wanted. It felt good, but there was a barrier between you that you hadn't felt when you sat behind him on that bike, chest to his back.

"Get yourself together," you muttered to yourself, carefully wiping away the dark lipstick you had opted for. It had felt appropriate when you thought about the biker the man was, and the vibe of the bar he owned next door. You only had it because of a Halloween costume. You felt a little bit more like yourself when you stepped out of the bathroom and took your seat at the table. Bucky was taller than your ex and you knocked your knee against his thigh as you crossed your legs.

His head tilted, scanning your face before his blue eyes focused in on your newly glossed lips. He chose not to comment.

"Dessert menu?" He was sweet for asking, but it had felt like the night flew away despite how physically uncomfortable you had felt the whole time. It felt natural.

"Of course! I love chocolate." Bucky smiled, reaching for his scotch and taking a long sip. You tried not to stare at his lips.

Bucky stared at the letters, but they felt like they were swimming on the page. He flipped the binder to a random page. He could still feel where your thighs had sneezed around his hips when he turned a corner too quick.

"I have to take a look at the car before I can give you a quote. The restaurant-" he looked at his watch, "-the bar next door is open and we'll come in and let you know when we have a diagnosis on the car." You blinked at him before nodding and slowly rising from your seat.

"Okay, uh, could you-" Bucky stood rapidly and nodded, showing you out the side door and into the Howling Commando Bar and Grill. Sam gave him a little smirk when he left you at the bar, and Bucky bared his teeth before heading back to the garage to wait for your car, and maybe take a few deep breaths and resolve the issue in his pants.

"And a dessert menu?" You blinked, trying not to think again about Bucky's warm hand at the small of your back when the waiter had led you to the table.

"Yeah, and a coffee for me," Bucky said.

"Me too," you chimed in. Your eyes met again as the waiter walked away. You second guessed the want in his eyes. Maybe it was just- His knee brushed against the middle of your thigh, then the other from the other side. He leaned forward, dangling his empty scotch glass from his fingers. His lips were wet again. You thought it should be illegal.

"Do you..." he took a quick breath, "I think you should come home with me." If it had come from anyone else, you thought you probably would have rolled your eyes and left him with the check, but you swallowed.

"I know I should." You stared at each other, Bucky's other hand resting on the side of your knee waiting for the waiter to arrive. When he came back you stuck out your card, which caught Bucky by surprise.

"We actually decided to skip dessert if you could take this for the check." The waiter looked shocked, but she walked away quickly.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I figured it would be quickest."

The two of you walked out into the humid air, and Bucky slid his extra helmet on your head, carefully strapping it below your chin. His tongue stuck out between his lips just slightly as he made sure it was tight enough. He put on his own helmet and then stepped over to sit astride the bike. He had now driven you on the bike four times, and it had gotten easier to use his shoulder to lever yourself onto the back, your feet naturally sliding onto the little foot rests. Your knees knocked his hips and he reached back to squeeze one of them.

"You're getting to a natural," he laughed, the bike starting over thought and drowning it from your ears. It wasn't a long drive, and you saw that he lived within spitting distance of the garage and bar. He let you get off the bike first, and then got off himself, helping you pull off the helmet again. He smiled sweetly at you as he pushed some of your hair back behind your ear. You were sure it looked a mess, but you couldn't help but stare a little moon-eyed up at him.

"I owe you back for that dinner," Bucky muttered as he unlocked the door to his apartment. You bit your lip, considering if you should let the statement out of your mouth before you decided it was the correct choice and said, "I was hoping maybe coming back here would do exactly that." Bucky's blue eyes were dark with... something when the door swung open and he pushed you in before him.

"I think I could make it worth it, depending on how badly how you want it, pretty belle." His voice was raspy, focused. You couldn't help but feel the heat between your legs growing. The nickname was warm and wrapped in affection that should have sounded out of place from this man who was a stranger only a few days ago.

"I want it very badly." The door shut behind you two, plunging you both into darkness, the only light coming from the streetlights through the window. You thought maybe you ought to be scared, but Bucky's arms were suddenly around you, his hot mouth on your neck, mapping its way up to lips against yours. The kiss made you breathless, the first in years, and you were at his whim.

"What do you want, pretty belle?" His lips continued on what felt like a natural path back down your neck and following the hem of your shirt.

"I want you, Bucky," you whined, your head lolling back as your fingers found purchase in his hair. He made a sound of displeasure in his throat, despite his hands pushing restlessly against your shirt, fingers skimming your now bare waist.

"I want you, daddy," you groaned again, knowing your fingers had gone still against his scalp. There was a stillness between the both of you for a moment, before Bucky moved, his hands tight against your thighs, pulling. You jumped and suddenly your only tether to the ground was him.

"Fuck belle, I want you too." It was dark, and you had no idea how long you were kissing down Bucky's lips to his neck before you were laid down on his bed. His jawline was sharp and the stubble tickled your lips and the feel of his pulse against your tongue as your traced the line of his neck was intoxicating. You could feel how wet you were as you shifted your hips against his. His groaned before pulling away reluctantly.

"Sorry, one second close your eyes." You followed his instructions and you could feel the lights turn on. He was muttering to himself and you opened your eyes to see him shooing a gray cat off the bed.

"For fucks sake Alpine, do you really want to ruin my chances," he was whispering as he closed the door behind the cat. He looked absolutely delicious now that you could see him. His blue eyes were entirely overtaken by lust, his cheeks pink under his stubble, and his lips wet. There was hickey forming at the hem of his shirt and you were certain you could add a few more.

"Sorry. Alpine's bedtime was like two hours ago." You smiled up at him, suddenly feeling a sweet flutter in your chest.

"Where were we?" Bucky over you in the light was entirely different and even more enticing than it was in the dark. He was in all black, his leather jacket tossed to the floor, his tshirt showing off tattooed arms that you knew you would be drooling over shortly.

"You were about to entirely fuck me up," you responded, bottom lip between your teeth. Bucky took a breath that read as controlling himself. Not at all what you wanted.

"I mean that," you repeated. His eyes met yours.

"You gotta be sure about that, honey." He was being honest, his arms bracketing your shoulders, halfway to a kiss.

"I mean it," you said again, your eyes refocusing on his lips, waiting for a reply. Instead you got a strong, warm body against yours, lips near attacking yours before they traced down your jaw and throat to your shirt. His hands were tugging at your hair.

"Fuck, belle, I want to see it all." You were happy to oblige as he pushed up your shirt leaving hungry kisses against your stomach and ribs, you undid your jeans and kicked them away. Bucky forced your arms up and pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in only the matching set you had put on in the hopes that the night would go anywhere. He stared at you, licking his lips as eyes raked over your near naked body on his bed.

"God, I think you're an angel sent to me," he mused, retuning his lips to yours. Your hands wandered, feeling out of place but very aroused but the fact that he was fully dressed but you were entirely naked. His shirt came off, and you didn't have nearly enough time to stare at the tattoos that covered him. Again you thought about mapping them with your tongue.

Bucky's hand explored as much as his tongue before you managed to wrestle his black jeans came off to reveal more of his tattoos.

"Please, Bucky, I want more," you whined, the slick between your legs making you shift your hips against him. You could tell he was huge in the confines of his jeans.

"How'd ya want it, honey? I gotta pay you back." You wanted to balk at the way he insinuated this was a favor, but you were near gushing between the legs.

"I want all of you," you whined, "Daddy, please. Anything." Two of his fingers ran against your panties, and he groaned at the wetness on contact.

"You are soaking, belle. I bet you taste as good as you sound." Bucky was quick to kiss down your chest, his hands' singular focus on getting your panties off. You groaned at the way he stared at you from where he knelt against the floor.

"Good thing we skipped dessert," he chuckled to himself, his hand wrapping around your ankle to pull one leg over his shoulder before his mouth pressed against your clit. You couldn't suppress the loud whine that you let out, already close as he teased your clit before his hot tongue made practiced motions down to your slit, his nose pressing to your clit. Your hips bucked and his big hands slid up your legs to press you back onto the bed.

"This is my treat, honey, I'm going to make you feel good." The baritone of his voice was a drug and you could feel your mind getting hazy as the feeling of your orgasm built in your stomach. Bucky's tongue moved back to your clit, a sinfully slow pace keeping you satisfied, but not doing enough. Once he was satisfied that you weren't going to try to wiggle away from him again, one of his hands joined his mouth between your legs, a finger pressing into you and providing delicious pressure right where you needed it.

"Oh you like that, huh belle?" Your voice was breathy through your panting, but you managed a, "please, more daddy." Bucky's chuckle against your clit in combination with another finger joining the first sent you over the edge and you came hard. Bucky's fingers slowed, pulling you through your orgasm while he pressed soft kisses to your thighs.

"Was that good, pretty girl?" You nodded and his fingers paused, blue eyes intent on yours.

"Words, honey." You blinked, the demand sending another jolt through you. Bucky obviously felt it based on how he smirked, his sinful wet lips now wet with you. It was the hottest thing you had ever seen.

"So good."

"I bet you could give me another one." It wasn't a demand, but a challenge, and even in this state you were certainly not one to back down from competition.

"Please, daddy." Bucky was back between your legs, another finger pressing into you and his tongue soothed the sting by running smooth and slow figure 8s on your clit. It was clear immediately that Bucky had paid attention to what you liked because after a few moments, his fingers crooked in exactly the right way and you moaned, and thought you might be embarrassed if it didn't feel so good. He leaned back, his other hand taking over the motion on your clit.

"Quiet, belle, we wouldn't want the neighbors to hear how good you sound. They might try to come take ya." Bucky added a fourth finger, an indication of what was to come and you came almost immediately, tight around him as your head threw back, hips moving to meet his finger's thrusts.

"Honey, you are gonna feel like fucking heaven," Bucky muttered as he slowly pulled his fingers away from you, "I'll be back in two seconds." You could still feel the orgasm in your toes when he came back, a towel and condom in hand.

"We can stop there if you want." You leaned up, leaning back against your elbows as he walked towards you. His expression was sincere, but you could see his cock straining against his jeans.

"Absolutely not." The wicked look returned to his eyes as he tossed the items beside you and then bowled you back over onto the bed, his lips finding yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you, quick fingers ridding you of your bra. Your hands found purchase over his strong shoulders and you managed to roll him onto his back.

"Taking control, honey?" He sounded condescending and it was hot. You straddled his thick thighs, focusing your actions on getting the button and zipper off his skinny jeans. Your eyes were wandering across the tattooed expanse of his chest. There was every kind of tattoo, and you were certain you had to ask about every single one when you got the chance.

"Need help?" He asked right before you managed to get the zipper down.

"Move." He laughed, lifting his hips, with you on him, and slid the jeans past his ass, pulling your hips forward so your swollen pussy ran right over the cold zipper and left you straddling the bulge in his black boxers. You both groaned at the contact and you rolled your hips, eliciting a delightfully hot sound from his lips as his eyes closed. He kicked his pants the rest of the way off and his hands were back on your hips, guiding their grinding till both of you were moaning and his boxers were soaked. Your head was thrown back, hands on his hot chest as his fingers left marks against your hips.

"Ya ready, belle?" You nodded fervently, and let him gently lay you down on the bed, leaving an intimate kiss on your lips before reaching to where he had tossed the condom. You stared hungrily as he pulled the boxers down and your eyes widened at how big he was. His thighs and all the way down his v-line had tattoos, which made the contrast of his flushed cock more distinct.

"Please, fuck me daddy." You thought you might be drooling.

"Oh, honey, I will." He rolled the condom down his own cock, pumping once before pushing your knees up so they were rested on his hips. You looked down and couldn't look away as he slowly pressed into you, the burn of his fingers nothing compared to this.

"Fuck, god... belle you feel so good, you're so tight." You wanted to push down against him, force him in faster, but he was gentle and slow and by the time he bottomed out his cock was pressed against just the right spot to make you want to moan.

"You were made for me, fuck." Bucky's right hand gripped your thigh and the other arm leaned on your left so he could press a feverish kiss to your lips.

"Please move, please." You could feel yourself squeezing around him. You were certain neither of you would last long based on the euphoric expression on his face. He took a focused breath and then his eyes opened, blue almost entirely overtaken by his pupils. You licked your lips, leaning up to kiss him. When you shifted it pushed him further and it was as if a dam broke. Bucky pulled away from you till he was up on both knees, the delicious drag of him inside you nothing compared to his first thrust. It was hard, unrestrained, and the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

"Belle, ain't no way this can be a one time thing," he muttered before pushing back into you. He set a brutal pace but he hit right where you needed him every time and you saw stars the first time you came, gushing around him and adding to the chorus of sounds that two of you were making. Bucky pressed through your first orgasm and then one hand slid up and found your clit.

"I want you to come with me, can you do that for me honey? I'm- fuck I'm so close." You nodded, barely able to keep your eyes open.

"Words, belle, fuck."

"Yes, daddy, yes please."

"Good girl." You both came together, Bucky's thrusts getting sloppy till he was leaned back over you, his forehead rested to your shoulder as he pressed one last time into you before pulling out. He grabbed the towel and quickly cleaned you up before himself and tossing it somewhere in the direction of the bathroom he had gone into before.

It was a few minutes before either of you spoke, wrapped in blankets, your head resting on his arm, facing one another.

"So much for being quiet." Bucky laughed, and closed the small gap to kiss you.

"I meant it when I said this can't be a one time thing." His dominating demeanor had dropped to that same sweet look from dinner. You nodded, feeling the sleep sliding across your eyes as you cuddled closer to him.

"I agree." You closed your eyes, getting as close to Bucky as you could. He smelled like sex and sweat and everything you had ever wanted.

"Good, because I don't think I could let ya go now, Belle." You giggled, his arms wrapping around you.

"Wouldn't let you."

[tsukimefuku]

The man who played with fire

After some drinks by yourself and getting frustrated with someone, you stupidly knock on Higuruma's door to test a theory.

To vibe: Misery - Maroon 5

Tags: +18 (!!!), WITH PLOT (there is always a plot), Jujutsu Kaisen, SMUT, f!reader, Higuruma x reader, some alcohol consumption,  he's so in love, she's so clueless, reader is being kind of an asshole, oral sex, cunt-locking, penetration, light f!top x m!bottom dynamic, involves some love-triangle classic shenanigans.

WC: 3.4K

Hey, this is actually my first smut piece! Hope you guys enjoy my filth. This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU", a sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a Nanami x f!reader x Higuruma fanfic I'll eventually write (eventually). This is preceded specially by "Kindness and Sunflowers", link here. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :)  

Disclaimer: they’re NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

Fair warning: I like writing characters being humanely assholes and clueless idiots. Be warned. 

"I can't believe this," you muttered to yourself. You were drinking alone at the bar, and the darkness served to hide your blushed-by-fury face. After what you called The Event, Nanami asked to talk, only to end up lecturing you about the shortcomings of a jujutsu sorcerer's life. As if you didn't know, given all the losses you had experienced over the years, precisely due to Tengen's established Jujutsu Society. "He can't be serious, lecturing me about this shit." Still talking to yourself, like a crazy person, you tried to let your anger go down with five cold pints of beer. It was definitely not working.

Your phone rang, and Nanami's name lit up on your screen, much to your annoyance. You immediately refused the call and flipped the phone down on the table, feeling all your rage bubbling up from the darkest depths of hell. You needed a release, any kind of release — an exorcism, most likely.

Or, you could try something else.

Peering around the bar, you started looking for someone that you could consider even remotely interesting — but no one, nothing, nada. Given this was a Tuesday night, there were only you and some monotonous people scattered around the murky lighting, encompassed by the noise of a few clicking glasses. 

That was when your phone started to rumble to the sound of some text messages, and you grabbed it ready to pitch the phone across the vicinity, believing it was Nanami again. But, much to your surprise, it was actually Higuruma texting you. You were so angry that you had completely forgotten to talk to him today.

He was basically asking how you were, given that you hadn't texted back since yesterday, and you were both chatting on a daily basis for weeks by this point.

That was when you had a greatly horrible (or horribly great?) idea. After all, how could a decision made under the influence, at night, while angry at someone you knew you had feelings for, be bad? This is fine.

"Are you busy right now?" You sent him, feeling the beer breeze warmly through your nostrils every time you exhaled. You have a crush on him, but that's it, this is fine. And oh, you did. Ever since you dropped him off in his apartment the night he was freed from Jujutsu High's headquarters, you knew that there was definitely something stirring up — at least from your end. Higuruma was drunk, he didn't make a move, and could just have been kind of clingy, to be honest, so you decided to let it go for the time being. Every time you got a little too excited to meet or talk to him recently, you reminded yourself very sternly you weren't a schoolgirl.

But you wouldn't let it go today, because today, you really wanted to know.

"Nothing, really. I just got home." Higuruma promptly answered.

"Can I come over?" You texted back, and locked your screen right after, instantly anxious and eager at the same time. What the fuck is wrong with me? What am I thinking? What am I doing? This can't be a good ide-

"Of course, I'd be delighted." He replied. "And then you could actually see the sunflower is doing very well, in spite of me."

You left the money on the counter and ran off, shushing your thoughts out loud.

***

This was a terrible idea, but I think I can just hang out for an hour, make small talk and then leave, you started to negotiate mentally with yourself right after the three knocks on the door gave some sanity back to your brain. 

However, after Higuruma opened the door and cocked his head to lean it against the door frame, you knew you were completely doomed. He had the top of his white shirt unbuttoned, his tie was hanging loosely around his neck, and his sleeves were rolled up enough for you to see his beautifully defined forearms. His hair had the perfect messy-I-just-got-home look to it, and you instantly wanted to drive your hands through his pitch black locks. 

Oh shit, you thought to yourself, feeling something stir up in your body — and it surely wasn't anger.

It must have been a moment, because he started to look a little puzzled. "Hey, come in." Higuruma said, as if he was repeating himself. Did you not hear him the first time he invited you in? 

"Of course. Thank you." You replied, looking down and hushing yourself inside his apartment. You could feel your face burning, and imagined how much of an idiot you were being right now for ever believing this could go anything but wrong.

"Are you okay? You seem out of sorts." He pointed out, closing the door behind him. "Can I get you anything? I got some beer from the convenience store, and there might be water somewhere in the kitchen."

"I'm fine, I just ran here to get some cardio." You clumsily replied, sitting on the couch. "I came from the bar, actually. Already drank some beers. No need."

Higuruma huffed out a soft chuckle, still a little confused, but now intent on prying. "You're not helping your case. You mean to say that you, a jujutsu sorcerer that exercises heavily, decided to get some cardio done while walking under the influence, from a bar, at night, to meet me?"

"Yes. That's what I meant. Quit prying." You responded, not knowing what the hell else you could say. Tell him that you came rushing just so you wouldn't have the time for second guessing on having s- no, you wouldn't do that.

"Hm." He hummed to himself, grabbing a can and sitting beside you, bouncing the sofa slightly. "I mean, I'm always happy to have you come over, but the only time you came here was to bring me drunk from a bender. And to get me flowers."

"Get you a sunflower, because yours had died." You corrected.

"Precisely, a sunflower." Higuruma replied, taking a sip from his beer. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I just wanted to see you." You said, earnestly. And deep down, it was true, if only half of it.

Higuruma immediately seemed content, even if he only had a small smile to show for it on his face. "Oh."

You were both silent for a moment.

"I never got to repay you for your kindness that day." He said, out of the blue, taking you by surprise.

"It was nothing." You said, shrugging. "I just got you home and gave you a flower."

"Oh, if I remember correctly…" He began.

"Do you remember anything?" You asked, mockingly.

He looked at you, slightly grinning, and continued. "You had to blow up my lock to bust us in. In some places, that would be considered a felony."

"You're saying I could get arrested for busting into a home while I'm with the man that lives there?"

"You also used explosives and damaged the door, let's not forget that." Higuruma said in a mix of playful and matter-of-factly.

"I couldn't ask, because you were completely wasted! Just getting your address was a pain in the ass."

He chuckled. "Was it?"

"Yes, it was." You replied, more relaxed, thanks to coming back to your old banter. This came for the both of you so naturally that you barely realized Higuruma had rested his arm on the sofa right behind you, leaning closer. "Higuruma, why did you drink so much that night?"

That question surprised him, as you could deduct from his eyes widening lightly. He put his beer can on the coffee table and ran his fingers through his hair, inhaling deeply. "I don't know. I guess-" he stuttered for a moment. "I guess I was just nervous to be out again, finally and properly going for a drink with..." his last word lingered on the air, as he unconsciously looked at your eyes, and then your lips, "with you all."

"Do you remember what you said when we got here?" You asked, shamelessly staring at his lips too.

"I believe I said, 'you are too kind'." Higuruma leaned over even further, and you felt his entire body go rigid for a second as you drifted closer to him, heat crawling all over your skin, putting your forehead to his. After some seconds, he rested the palm of his hand over your knee, and from how needy you felt for that man at that particular moment, even such a small thing was enough to make you trip over to the other side.

You immediately crushed your lips to his, putting your hands behind his head. You kissed him eagerly, letting out an extremely faint moan as you drove your fingers over his hair — he tasted like beer, his worn off cologne from the day was completely intoxicating, and you found yourself nearly lunging at the man like a starved animal. Realizing what just happened, you pulled back, starting to apologize, eyes wide and face completely flustered. "Higuruma, I'm so sor-"

Your apologies were cut short with his own lips now clashing into yours in a passionate kiss, as he pushed you under his weight to lay on the couch, his fingers interlocking in your hair strands from the back of your head. His hips effortlessly slid in between your legs as your hands made their way to brush his shoulders, and you let out another moan against his lips, this time much louder, thanks to the dry pressure of his now bulging pants against your clothed core. Higuruma groaned satisfied in response, tracing the outline of your mouth with the tip of his tongue. Your mind was becoming hazy, and he parted from your lips for a moment to gaze at your face. His eyes were locked on you, studying every feature and investigating for any sign of discomfort or second thoughts.

You caught up on that and made your way inside his slightly open mouth with your own tongue, intertwining it with his in between gasps and huffs. Now you separated just enough to breathlessly say, "Bed. Now."

You gasped against his mouth, before holding yourself throwing your arms behind his neck and locking your legs on his waist, grinding on him. He moaned loudly at this stimulation, before smiling sheepishly and putting both of his hands on the back of your thighs for support, knowing full well you meant for him to carry the both of you into the bedroom.

"Yes, ma'am." He replied, propping the both up and then lifting from the couch. Higuruma pressed open-mouthed kisses all around the nape of your neck, as he walked towards a dark room, parting his hands from you just to switch the light on. "I want to see you," he said, breathing heavily against your skin, as he threw you on the bed, climbing on top, one hand to each side of your head as he stared at you with a lustful look in his eyes. You instantly pulled his loosened tie to kiss him again, and he lost balance, basically falling with his body over yours. You whimpered at the feeling of having his now full-blown clothed erection grinding against your core, and involuntarily opened your legs to accommodate his hips over yours.

Higuruma started to take off his tie and shirt, and you followed suit, removing your top and bra. He basked on the sight of you, and cupped both of your breasts in his hands. His digits felt rough, and frictioned just the right amount against you, as he squeezed both of them, satisfied and reverent. His hands started traveling down your figure, contouring every curve, hill, and valley of your body, reaching the edge of your pants. "May I?" He asked, his face lightly blushed as he awaited your response. You nodded, and he promptly unzipped you, pulling your pants and panties down, the slight stimulation from the fabric sliding over your legs being enough to make you mewl with satisfaction. Every nerve in you was incandescent with absolute hunger for him.

You opened your legs, and he could see you were already completely wet from arousal. Letting out an audible satisfied moan, Higuruma began tracing your belly with his mouth, planting long kisses as he went down, leaving a trail of heat wherever his lips touched. As he got near your core, he kissed one last time one of your thighs, and sniffed on your folds. You smelled sinfully sweet, and he made no effort to hold back his eyes fluttering shut with pure bliss. "Could I, please?"

This was his prayer, the bed was his altar and he was determined to worship you.

Without a word, you simply grabbed the top of his hair and drove his mouth in between your legs, whimpering and mewling as his tongue started to rub against your clit. His chin would grind forward on your entrance whenever he changed the angle, and you involuntarily pushed yourself down when that happened. He noticed it, and slid his tongue inside you, eliciting a loud moan in response, with your walls clenching around it. He groaned back in appreciation, and his husky, low voice reverberated throughout your entire being. You arched your back, beginning to feel that familiar heat and fire pooling on your lower stomach.

"H-Higuruma... I-" You sighed, in between mewls and moans.

He immediately stopped and brought his face up to look at you. You let out a complaint sound, glaring at him to ask why he stopped.

"My dear, I'm literally with my face in between your legs, eating you out." He said, unfazed by your annoyance. "We're way past last names. Call me Hiromi."

Incredulous, you let out a mixture of a chuckle and a scoff, having the top inside of you wiggling its way out to the surface. You grabbed his hair strongly, and he cinched his eyebrows, cock twitching inside his pants, as the corner of his lips formed an open-mouthed smile. His eyes were softly resting on you, and he wouldn't mind if your naked, flushed body was the last thing he saw before he died.

"Shut up." You said, grinding your pussy against his mouth, and locking his head to your core with your legs tightly holding around him. Higuruma proceeded more eager than before, lapping at your clit relentlessly with his tongue, alternating with sucks that were having you seeing stars. He was absolutely pussy drunk with the heavenly taste of you and had, at this moment, relinquished any control, as he let you face fuck him chasing your release.

The heat came back again, and you closed your eyes, sinking the back of your head on a pillow. Waves were starting to form, and your orgasm hit you like the crashing water against the shore. You began to tremble and vibrate, coming hard in his mouth, and Higuruma feverishly drank you up, completely hypnotized with how amazing you tasted and felt, falling apart under his ministrations. 

Letting you finish riding your high, licking gently on your overstimulated core, he waited until you were barely moving before removing his own pants and climbing his way back on top of you. As he got close enough to your face, you looked at him, completely flustered and debauched, resting the palm of your hand on his cheek. "Higuruma, I want you inside of me." His tongue, albeit magnificent, just wasn't enough, and you could feel the same anticipation and neediness coiling in your stomach again, as the tip of his cock rested on your entrance.

He looked at you and grunted, displeased. "Hiromi." Higuruma reached to the bedside table and pulled a condom. The movement had him rubbing his throbbing length, already leaking with pre-cum, right against you, forcing him to let out a strained groan.

You gasped at the sensation and chuckled at his annoyance right after, suddenly locking his hips in between your legs, rolling you both so that you would be on top of him. "We'll see, if you ask nicely." You replied, locking him in between your arms, hovering. Higuruma's eyes instantly softened, and his cheeks took a pinkish-red tint. "You're bossy." He said, turning his head towards your wrist and planting a chaste kiss on it, lingering with his lips for a moment on your skin. "I like it."

You smiled, more pleased than you'd like to admit it, because the both of you fit so well it was astonishing. You never thought it would be happening like this, and for a moment, it felt so right you wished you could be here forever. But nothing that good ever lasts long enough.

Grabbing the condom from him with one hand, you motioned the other to grab his neglected cock. As your fingers grasped around his length, Higuruma let out a satisfied and urgent moan, slowly arching himself under your touch. The sight of him completely pliable to your will had you fluttering, as you began to rub your hands up and down, pumping his girth to pleasure him. Higuruma plastered his palms over the plush of your thighs, and groaned your last name, holding out on some kind of desperation. 

"'Way past last names', huh?" You scoffed, playfully, starting to slide the condom over his cock before he could hit you with any witty comeback. After, you positioned yourself above him, holding his length against your entrance, and started to slowly descend over it, feeling it thrust in you to the brim, stretching your walls as he bottomed out. You both let out a gasp, now connected, and you waited a moment to adapt and take all of him in.

"Come here." You said, pulling on his shoulder for him to sit up, so that you could feel and touch every inch of him. He obliged, and sat up, immediately driving his mouth to kiss your neck insistently, brushing the tip of his tongue on the edge of your jaw. Higuruma began to rock his hips, and you did the same, each in the opposite direction, so that his cock would slide in and out of your pussy easily.

You moaned against his scalp, and he held his hands to the small of your waist, leaning you backwards to suck on your breasts. The moment his mouth latched onto one breast, he rolled your other nipple between his fingers, eliciting loud moans and mewls from you. You had your head dangling back, as he began to thrust into you quicker and harder. He slid the hand previously on your waist to the back of your neck, and pulled you in for a kiss, taunting your mouth with his tongue. You opened it, and both your tongues intertwined, as he, now, chased his own release, panting and groaning into your lips. You weren't so far off, feeling the familiar coil tightening in your abdomen, yearning for release.

"Higu-"

"Hiromi, please. P-please... Please..." He implored and begged, kissing desperately your jawline. You lowered your gaze and met his eyes softer and more tender than you had ever seen, so urgently pleading for you to let him in, give him this inch of intimacy, and that was the moment you caved. You pressed your forehead against his, and started to cry out his name. "Hiromi... H-Hiromi..."

Letting out moans and groans in between the squelching from your juices, he pulled you impossibly close, eyes piercing and locked onto yours. This was the moment you felt more naked, bare and vulnerable the entire night, and the coil that had formed in your belly snapped, sending waves of pure pleasure from the tip of your head to your toes. Feeling your gummy walls clenching all around him, Higuruma also hit his orgasm intensely, thrusting into you fervently to ride off his high. He stopped slowly, ready to crumble underneath you at any moment.

"Hiromi-" You said, brushing your lips against his cheek, then under his ear. "Hiromi, Hiromi, Hi-ro-mi. Happy? Just for tonight, though."

Higuruma chuckled soulfully, realizing how much he absolutely loved the sound of his name on your tongue, purred through your whispered voice, reverberating on his flushed, sensitive skin. It made his body quiver and tremble with pure satisfaction. 

It was right there, at that moment, with his heart fluttering while you leaned back to gaze at him, stroking his hair strands between your fingers with a gentle smile, that he realized just how fucked he actually was.

Sighing softly and smiling back, Higuruma pushed his lips against yours. He knew that by playing with fire, he was bound to get burned, eventually — and burned he was.