#i just found it boring i stopped reading for long stretches of time before continuing

[frereamour]

everyone has watched nosferatu but me :( but i'm worried i won't like it because frankly i don't like the book dracula and didn't like any subsequent adaptation.

[matriarchjojo]

" MOVIE NIGHT GONE WRONG. "

starring! : mikey + fem!reader, and kazutora, draken, baji, chifuyu

warnings! : exhibition, sex tape, fingering, finger sucking, choking, FWB, college!AU, basically cheating? (draken), squirting, implied gangbang at the end, readers skin color is not mentioned, mdni, not proofread

summary! : mikey invited the boys to a movie night, but as he was gone to pick you up, they accidentally stumbled opon a camera.

"Movie night gone right" pt.2

Right after mikeys bike engine roared from outside and slowly got more silent until it was completely gone, the guys just sat on mikeys couch and on the floor, bored.

Kazutora sat down on the floor with one of mikeys pillows and suddenly spotted a video camera, obviously from the late 2000s and a bright smile beamed on his face as he took it in his hands.

"Look what I found, guys" he announced opening the display of the cam "why would mikey have that?" Draken asked himself outloud with a raised eyebrow, to which kazutora shrugged "I dunno but I'm dying to see what he filmed on this."

Chifuyu looked a bit uncomfortable with that idea "I don't know man, maybe there's some personal shit on there" baji just scoffed, "then I just wanna see it more" he laughed. Kazutora looked at draken to see if he wanted to he it too.

Draken sighed and stretched his arms "sure, why not."

Kazutora and baji then cheered before baji encouraged him to connect the camera with the TV, which he had some trouble with since he didn't find the cable at first for it, but after he did find it he didn't waste a single second to plug it in

A video immediately started of mikeys feet as he walked, before the shot lifted to reveal you in pretty heels and a cute sundress skipping infront of him, mikey giggled behind the camera "cute" he said. You then turned around to which the guys perked up.

"She's still pretty even on a shitty camera" baji mentioned.

The tape continued with you laughing happily and smiling at the camera "you gotta say hi to the camera." Mikey told you, to which you just giggled and then waved your pretty long nailed fingers at the camera "hiiii!"

All of the guys had a tiny smile on their face at your cute gesture.

But then the video stopped, and another started up. It was you again. On mikeys couch, stretching your gorgeous legs while reading a magazine. You were wearing a mini skirt and a crop top, mikey kept filming your legs and the how graceful they looked.

It started to feel like...there was some tension in the air now. Kazutora couldn't take his eyes off the screen, admiring your pretty legs and your gorgeous heels. It was no secret that tora had the miggest crush on you, so seeing this put him in a trance. But it didn't just affect him, of course. you were beautiful and cute, and it was hard not to crush on you at least a little bit. Even draken, though he'd never say it out loud.

"Stop filming my legs!" You playfully complained, closing you magazine and coming over to mikey, who was just giggling behind the camera as you came closer and closer to the camera, but then it shut off. And another video started, it was you kneeling on the floor looking up into the camera with your bright eyes and glossy lips "what?" You giggled, tilting your head. "You're pretty." Mikey said, and then it stopped again.

Chifuyu completely forgot about his feelings from earlier, now just focused on seeing more videos of you being pretty and happy.

Those videos continued, just sweet little snippets of mikey admiring you. They were surprised that mikey was so enamored with you, seeing such an "emotional" side of him was very alien to them. Watching these videos made the guys wonder if you two were a thing and they just didn't know about it.

"Come on, let's stop watchin' em" draken announced, waving his hand. But kazutora protested "just one more!" And before anyone could object he let the next one play.

This time you were in mikeys room again with you sitting on his couch as Mikey supposedly laid down on his bed. You were watching some show until you noticed mikey filming you again.

You smiled "what?" You asked cutely, "waiting for a performance" he casually said.

Draken and baji raised a curious eyebrow, "performance?" Baji asked, to which tora hushed him.

You giggled and turned your upper body to him, you smiled a little shyly then rolled your eyes "really? Again?" Assumingly mikey just nodded at your question.

At this point, the guys didn't see anything too weird about these videos until..

You suddenly grabbed the hem of your tank top and lifted it over your tits to flash the camera.

Kazutora and chifuyu let out an audible gasp, draken choked on his drink and bajis jaw just dropped in absolute shock.

"OKAY, OKAY TURN IT OFF!" Chifuyu yelled, pulling his arm over his eyes to shield himself from this privacy invasion. "NO WAY!!" Tora and baji yelled. They both should feel more disgusted or discomfort at you and mikey being.."intimate," but they were too focused on finally seeing your perky tits that teased them for years now.

The video continued and they could hear mikey giggle before the next video started. It was you again with your head on mikeys thigh as you were seated between them on the floor, and he was sitting on the couch, your beautiful eyes looked up into the camera. Your nails pressed softly into mikeys thigh as you tilted your head, then without a single word, mikeys hand cane down to caress your flushed cheek.

It was a cute and innocent enough gesture, until his thumb started caressing your bottom lip and you slowly opened your mouth to suck on it sensually.

"Fuck, she's like a pornstar.." kazutora mentioned, absolutely enamored with how pretty and sexy you looked doing such slutty activities. "She fuckin' does.." baji agreed, leaning more closely to the screen from his seat on the couch.

The video cut, and another immediately started.

This one just immediately started with your pretty moans and your face twisted in pleasure. It didn't take kazutora a second to get rock hard, and it wasn't any different for draken, baji or chifuyu. Hard as fuck.

"What a good girl.." Mikey said behind the camera as it panned down to reveal mikey's fingers slowly sliding in and out of your wet cunt, making obscene and sinful noises. Your clit looked so swollen, kazutora almost wanted to lick the screen.

You moaned so prettily again and you spread your legs further for mikey to get better access. His Fingers sped up and so did the wet squelching noises, your moans got more high pitched and louder "that's it." Mikey encouraged "cum for me.." your hips bucked into his touch as your eyes slightly rolled back and your bottom lip got caught between your teeth.

Baji gripped the blanked next to him, imagining how soft your skin would feel against his own, how tight your pussy would feel around his fingers.

Draken had his fingers on his temple, pretending to not like what he was seeing, and he shouldn't. Especially since he had a girlfriend. But fuck he's just a guy, and you're getting fingers by his best friend. Letting out the prettiest noises he'd ever heard..

Your head tipped back and you covered your mouth as a sticky liquid squirted out of your weeping cunt. "Fuck yeah..good girl, good girl" mikey huffed, fingering you even faster.

Chifuyu gasped as he gripped the pillow impossibly tighter over his crotch, he'd seen a lot of porn but none of them were as good as what he was seeing right there, right now. You were so pretty and he felt like he would die if he didn't jerk off right now.

Kazutora bit his bottom lip desperately as he imagined what your hot and sticky fluids would taste like, he wanted to put his mouth on you so bad, he wanted to make you squirm and cry out as you grip his hair and grind your pussy on his face..

The video cut off again and then mikey was seen with you in a shot, it was assumingly propped up somewhere.

You were getting fucked sideways by mikey as his hands were on your thigh, holding it up, and on your tit as he was sucking on your nipple. "Mikey!" You moaned as your tits bounced with every thrust, the guys could see the bed completely soaked beneath you two "p-please- I can't anymore~" you whined. Mikeys hand gripped your thigh harder "fuck yeah, you can..just one more" the kissed your collarbone "fr' me.." he begged before going right back to suck on your tiddy.

Kazutora almost moaned when you turned your head to the camera eyes closed in bliss as his friend fucked you senseless.

Your moans got louder and baji could swear his mouth was filling up with drool, looking at your tits bounce and your cunt being fucked.

Mikey lifted himself up and put his hand on your throat, drakens eyes widened as you whimpered at this filthy action, his jeans felt so uncomfortably tight due to his painful erection straining against them. He couldn't contain his thoughts anymore, he would fuck you so hard with his big hand on your tiny throat.

Mikey thrusts become sloppy and harder as your moans suddenly stuttered. You were about to cum.

The men were so focused on the screen, awaiting your orgasm.

"We're hereee" mikey announced and the guys all jolted awake from their pussy trance and kazutora hastily and panicked and ripped the cable out of the TV, feeling his heart beat out of his throat when he saw your pretty self standing next to mikey after he just watched you getting fucked by him.

It didn't take long for mikey to see the guys all flushed hiding their crotches and, of course, the video cam.

Mikey just casually chuckled "they found our tapes" to which you gasped and looked at the man next to you "...the tapes?"

You looked back at the men, avoiding eye contact with you or mikey.

Mikey then looked at you and gave you a soft pat on your ass before you shyly bit your lip and walked over to the bed, you sat down...and spread your legs just enough for them to see you not wearing any panties...

Kazutora and chifuyu were about to have a heart attack with how fast their hearts were beating, baji felt like he was burning hot, he never felt this horny..

Draken really, really tried to not look at you or your half exposed pussy. But he did see it and then couldn't tear his eyes away from it.

"Did you like them..?" You suddenly asked, spreading your legs more as Mikey just grinned.

You looked at the camera and then back at the boys "maybe.." you lifted your skirt, exposing your naked cunt to them. "We could make a featured film.." kazutora kneeled and looked like a starved puppy, with his tongue almost hanging out of his mouth and his eyes wide open.

Someone would have to hold baji back if he got any hornier, cause he was about to just jump on you and ravage you.

"I can film everything" mikey said with a smug grin.

Was this planned?

[springismss]

ᱬ⛧ heaven ~ i. midoriya

sum: after years of not seeing him, he finally shows up, asked to join the agency you work at. you remembered him, but did remember you?

pairing: pro hero! Izuku midoriya x female pro hero! reader

content: 18+ - mdni. p in v, slight teasing, dirty talk, marking, multiple/implied multiple orgasms, fingering, reader gets called princess/baby/good girl, general NSFW content, aftercare.

a/n: slight spoiler ahead - set in an au where the end events of the manga didn’t happen, where izuku doesn’t lose one for all, still finishes u.a and is currently the world's number one pro. this has been rotting in my drafts for a while, but i didn’t have a chance to edit it. as always, likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated!

word count: 1,952

links: bnha/mha masterlist | masterlist

Looking around the semi-crowded street, you let a soft hum of annoyance pass your lips as you continued forward. Due to there being hardly any criminals for the past few days now, you had found yourself, yet again, on patrol on a slow day. Not only were you patrolling, but you also caught glimpses of three other pro heroes who were in the area, looking as bored as you were.

A sudden chime in your ear made you stop as you looked at the other heroes, noticing they were still patrolling and talking to citizens. How odd. Lifting your finger, you tapped on the device and placed your free hand on your hip as you continued to scan the area out of habit. "What’s up?".

"(h/n), can you come back to the office? We have someone coming and we want our best hero here when they arrive". Furrowing your brows, you glanced in the direction of the voice, opening your mouth to question the communication when they spoke again, seemingly reading your mind.

"And yes, it's been cleared. We've heard it's another slow day, so there's no need for you all to be out there".

Letting out a hum, you turned on your heel and began to make your way back to the agency you were working at. "Sure you're not trying to butter me up there? I'll be there in ten".

Walking through the doors, you stretched and sighed softly, the cool air of the air con lapping against your skin felt refreshing. You had a few spare moments before heading to the meeting room, so you opted to grab a drink, making your way to the meeting room not long after.

Opening the door with a click, you noticed quite a few of the other heroes you worked alongside already there. A sea of murmurs greeted you as you greeted them back, taking your place at the side while you all waited for whoever they had made you come back for.

Up front, you saw the owner of the agency standing there with another figure by their side, most likely their assistant, who called you back. "Ahh, (h/n), now that you're here, I can introduce you to the newest hero to join us~". Your boss lifted a hand and motioned to the door as eyes followed, looking at the door that was clicking open again.

Green was the only colour you could focus on as your eyes widened. You had to be seeing things, this couldn't be real, right? You had to be in some sort of dream. Yeah, that's right, a stupid dream. You and the rest of your classmates thought he'd disappeared, seemingly moving away to the other end of the country or beyond.

No one had heard from him in years. Yet there he was, walking past you as everyone followed with their gaze. "~The number one pro hero, Deku". A confident wave and bright smile replaced the once timid and shy movements of the young boy you remembered.

As you tried to wrap your head around what you had just seen, a group began to form around the hero with words of excitement buzzing in the air. By the time you had managed to somewhat comprehend things, the group had disappeared, giving you the perfect time to go over and say hello to an old friend. Would he recognise you? You'd doubted it, but it didn’t hurt to see. "Well, if it isn't Izuku Midoriya in the flesh".

The sudden intrusion of your words, and the fact that his name had been used, seemed to take him by surprise as he took a closer look at your face. It took him a moment longer than usual to put the pieces together, but he got there, eyes widening as you smiled brightly at him. "(y/n)? Is that you?".

Ever since that day when you had both been reunited, the two of you had been virtually inseparable. Spending more time together, be that on missions or in general, had resulted in the two of you becoming close again. Closer than what you both had been before.

Then came the rumours that surrounded you both, some sweet and innocent and others downright dirty. Of course, the latter made Midoriya blush. He couldn't imagine people saying those things, and yet there they were, plain as day. You were nothing more than a friend to him.

Sure, it had been a good few years since he last saw you and the rest of your friends, but he couldn't deny it even if he tried; you had become a beautiful young woman. Foreign feelings stirred deep inside of him, feelings that caused his body and mind to react in ways he hadn’t had since he was a teen. Sure, he'd had partners, but none of them fired him up the way you did.

Feelings he thought he had buried were starting to resurface all over again. Starting to increase each time he was with you until he couldn't handle them any more, the way he felt became too much to bear. Doing the only thing he could think of at that time, acting on how he felt around you, something he should have done back when you were both younger.

Everything seemed to move in a bit of a blur. One minute, you were sitting on the couch in Midoriya's house with him, TV on in the background as you both sat talking about various things. The next minute, you were on your back, pinned to the cushions as you both shared a hot kiss. The feelings that poured out between you both during that kiss had been pent up for some time.

A dark blush covered his face as he pulled back, trying to catch his breath, frame hovering over your panting form. "I-I can't take it anymore, (y/n), I-I need to do s-something~".

In what felt like mere seconds to you, articles of clothing had been scattered all over the floor before thick digits thrusted into your wet cunt, walls stretching deliciously making you whine out at the burning desire you felt again. "Hah, Izuku, p-please. I need you".

His fingers disappeared, causing you to whine out from the sudden emptiness before his stout cock began to press deep within you. Pressing past the ring of resistance, as desperate moans sounded. The overwhelming feeling of Midoriya stretching you made your back arch, hips wriggling as he buried himself deep inside. The pro hero took a moment to savour the feeling of your walls pulsating tightly around his cock, your needy cunt desperately trying to keep him there.

“Shit, you’re gripping me so good princess. Like that pretty pussy was made for me”. Those words alone had you moaning out, hands grabbing any part of him you could. You had to keep yourself sane.

With the slow pull back of his hips, you gasped slightly as the emptying feeling until you felt him thrust hard back into you. You swear if your eyes could roll any further back than they were already, they would. Bringing your legs up, you wrapped them around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as you pulled him closer to you. Your fingers dug into his forearms, nails leaving crescent moon marks as you tried to ground yourself.

Green eyes glanced at the fucked out look on your face, before dragging down your body, watching the way your tits jiggled with each desperate thrust. Watching the way your body bounced in time with his movements, the small sheen starting to cover your body. He was eager to show you how much he needed and wanted you, even after all these years. "F-Fuck, why did I wait this long to get in this cunt of yours?".

The words caught you off guard as a loud mewl slipped past your lips, hands flying to his back before you dragged your nails down, red marks being left against pale skin as you arched further into his body.

You could feel that knot in the pit of your gut tighten, and you knew, knew it wouldn’t be too long before you were crying out from the pleasure. You could already hear how wet you were, messy sloshing noises only added to the way you were feeling. "Izu, fuck, I-I'm gonna~".

His rough thrusts never ceased as he reached between you both, pad of his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as his fingers pressed against the small bump he was creating inside you. “Come on, baby, let go for me, want to feel you all over”.

All it took was a few more harsh thrusts to have you lose your sanity, to have your back arch beautifully as you gasped out. Broken cry of Midoriya’s name sounded from your throat as your vision blurred. You were almost sure you felt some of your slick squirt out, no doubt coating not only his cock and thighs, but the sofa beneath you.

The overwhelming feeling of feeling full took over your now overly sensitive cunt, breathy moans sounding louder. “That’s a good girl, but I'm far from done, princess".

Before long, you’d lost all sense of time as you continued to be fucked senseless by the man above you.

Your legs were numb, your clit and cunt were overly stimulated and your body began to grow tired. Despite that, you felt another wave of euphoria nearing, gripping Midoriya's arm as you anchored yourself, a strangled sob left your throat as tears slipped from your eyes. Your nails were sure to leave more marks, marks that would no doubt bleed, not that the pro seemed to mind.

Deep moans sounded from above you as you turned your watery, glassy stare to the man responsible for the state you were in. You could tell he was close as his thrusts became sloppy, desperately rutting into you as he chanced his own euphoria. After a few more sloppy thrusts, Midoriya let out a guttural moan, hips stalling as he filled your cunt with his cum. “F-Fuck, that’s it (y/n), take it all. Going to fill you so full you’ll be dripping me for days”. The hot fluid seeping deep within you as sparks of his quirk flashed around you both.

Lifting your arm, you brought a hand up to his face and cupped it, guiding him down to your lips as you held him close. You took a moment to press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, humming softly as you mumbled against the skin. “I love you, Izuku”.

The words took him by surprise, green eyes widening as they looked down at you, face still flushed as hair clung to you, offering his own sweet smile a moment after. “I know you do, and I love you too, (y/n)”.

Wrapping his arms around you as best he could, he pulled his cock out of you. A moan of loss sounded from you before you felt yourself being moved, held close against his chest as he carried your sore body to the bathroom, helping clean you up once you were settled in the hot water.

A thumb rubbed the small of your back in a comforting manner. No words needed to be spoken, but at that point, you both knew what you were to each other. The feelings you both held were finally shared for the other to feel.

Although you had both been caught up in the throes of pleasure a few minutes ago, nothing could have prepared you for the words that were uttered next.

"Next time, I’ll show you that blackwhip is good for something other than restraining villains".

© springismss 2025 - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

[roxabellas]

Softer, Softest

｡･:*:･ﾟ༓･*˚⁺‧͙ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚₊✩｡˚☽

part one part two part three

word count : 8,866

warnings : sex work (not really mentioned much again in this one but i don't want to not put it), cheating (why is the c so small), age gap (19 & 38), handjob, masturbation (him), riding, he's still a bit sad, he's a bit weird at times, feet kink, daddy kink

The mornings after were never easy, but after spending so many with him, they had become less grueling. The silences that would've been filled with croaky coughs, bed sheets rustling and awkward small talk were instead filled with gentle forehead kisses, steady, synced breathing, and an unspoken agreement to let the comfortable silence stretch on for as long as time allowed. This one was no different.

The soft, grey, early morning light seeped in through the half-drawn curtains, the pale light creeping further up the walls as the sun rose carefully, tip-toeing in as if to not wake the world too soon. It made the room look colder than it was.

He woke up first, his hand that wasn't lodged under you coming up to wipe away the sleep that had gathered in the corners of his eyes while he was asleep. He took a deep breath in through his nose, his face scrunching up slightly before finally flickering his eyes open, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering in.

He turned his head to look down at you, his brows furrowed and his lips pursed as his body continued to slowly wake up.

You were still asleep, lay on your back on his right side with his arm tucked beneath you from where he'd kept you locked in his grasp overnight. You looked peaceful in sleep, a simple, taken-for-granted feeling that used to come to him with ease, that he never had to think twice about, but now was all he yearned for.

He studied your gentle face, reading every subtle crease in your soft skin for what felt like the thousandth time, but it was something he could never get bored or tired of. He barely blinked, he didn't want to. Didn't want to deprive himself of the sight of you, even if just for a fraction of a second.

He stretched his legs beneath the thick duvet like a cat, a few quiet clicks from his knees and ankles interrupting the silence before he let out a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a sleepy groan as his muscles loosened up.

He shifted slightly on the mattress, one arm still under you, and he rolled onto his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He felt the fatigue in his bones, his body aching in that strangely hollow way that followed after too much emotion.

He dragged a hand across his face, rubbing at his forehead then down over his mouth, to his chin and jaw, and he swallowed hard. It was like he was trying to figure out, to remember who he was. What he was.

His fingers found his bottom lip and he tugged at it to try and stop himself from entertaining his thoughts, absentmindedly picking at the dry, chapped skin as he tried to regulate his breathing, to sync it with yours beside him.

The urge gnawed at him. The urge to press his lips to yours and finally put that constant, simmering, guilt-riddled feeling to rest. The urge wasn't out of lust, need or desperation, but rather something gentler, something that could maybe even be considered “romantic”, but his mind didn’t let him think that far.

His head tilted back down towards you sleeping beside him as you shifted in his grip during sleep. He could do it now. Lean down and cup your resting face with his dead arm from being slept on by you all night, close his eyes and kiss your soft lips with his dry ones. You wouldn't know, and maybe that was what he wanted.

He let out a long, slow sigh, pouting his lips slightly as he turned his head back up towards the ceiling, letting his eyes drift shut for just a moment.

He didn't even realise he'd briefly fallen asleep again until a few minutes later when your quiet stirring next to him gently woke him up from his light sleep, like a subtle nudge on the shoulder from someone trying to get you to pay attention after you'd zoned out.

Your hand had slid onto his belly in those short minutes, fingertips idly twirling the little trail of hairs from his belly button to his crotch and absentmindedly slipping just underneath the waistband of his boxer shorts, his still-tired, half-asleep brain not registering much else other than your hand gradually getting nearer to his cock.

With a rush of blood to his groin came an aching pulse, tinged with a small sense of shame, ebbing through his body directly after, the sensations blurring together as they collided inside of him and merged into one. He let out a quiet, hoarse little hum as he felt his dick slowly stir to life, stiffening beneath the soft cotton of his boxers.

In sleep, your fingers, idle and featherlight, brushed through the fine trail of hair beneath his navel. Maybe it brought you comfort, similar to the patterns his fingers liked to trace on your skin, to give his mind something to focus on.

His gaze dropped to you once more as you stirred quietly, the subtle change in your breathing as your body shifts slightly. He watched as your brow creased the slightest bit, your lips pressed together, and as your eyelashes fluttered gently against your cheeks like moth wings.

The dull light that had paled the room in its cold embrace began to register behind your closed eyes, pulling you from your sleep. Your body moved before your mind did, a small shift of your leg against his under the duvet, the subtle twitch of your fingers on his lower abdomen.

Your eyes didn't open straight away, and you breathed in deeply through your nose, inhaling the familiar, warm scent of him next to you, spiced with a faint trace of sweat. Your nose nudged against the side of his chest and your palm flexed slightly on the firm plane of his stomach, the subtle tension in his muscles telling you he was already awake.

You yawned softly, your other hand coming up to cover your mouth while your hand on his belly gently swept through his happy trail.

Your mind began to catch up with your body in fragments as you felt the rise of his chest against your head as he yawned as well, and you slowly opened your eyes, your vision slightly fogged as you came to.

Not wanting to disturb you too much, he shifted himself, propping himself up on his left elbow, his right arm still beneath you, and shifting his hips as to not make his erection too obvious, but your hand remained on his lower stomach, still lingering near the waistband of his boxers without any real intention.

You blinked away the blur, then you heard his soft voice, slightly deeper than usual. “Morning.”

You didn't say anything, still too tired to make the effort, but a small smile pulled at your lips in return before your hand slid up to his ribs, not particularly out of want, more just because he was warm, and he was there.

A deep breath expanded his chest beneath your palm and you felt his arm that had been underneath you all night shift, so you propped yourself up to let him pull his arm from beneath you.

Just as you lay yourself back down on your back, head on the pillow, he sat himself up, his back against the headboard and the edge of the duvet resting on his thighs.

You could see he was hard, that he wasn't doing much to hide it, that he probably wanted you to notice and do something about it. You tended to forget how big he was until it was in your face like this, the thick length pressing against his thigh underneath the soft cotton, the subtle ridges and veins visible even through the fabric.

His hand found your hip, his fingers tracing small spirals on your soft skin before he spoke again, his voice still slightly hoarse from sleep. “Sorry about last night. Again.”

You smiled. “It's okay.”

 “No, really. I should control myself more. But thank you for listening, anyway.”

You looked up to meet his eyes, but his gaze was fixed forwards, locked on the dresser against the wall opposite the bed, and you watched his tongue poke out to wet his lips. “You don't need to apologise.”

He sighed, peeling his eyes away from the dresser and looking down at his crotch, almost pitiful. He bit the inside of his cheek, his lips pursing slightly, and he looked down at you, and in that one glance, you could tell he wanted you to take care of him.

“What do you want me to do?” you asked quietly, sitting yourself up on your knees beside him ready.

He swallowed and licked his lips again, looking away from you again as he thought about his options, then after a few moments, he slid his thumbs beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts, shuffling them down to his knees. His cock sprung up, the head hitting him just above his navel, and he rubbed his hand over his inner thigh as he said, “A handjob, please, love.”

“That's it?”

He settled back against the pillows, his length twitching against his belly. “Yeah.”

You gave him a small smile before you shuffled a bit closer to him, your knees touching the side of his thigh.

He looked up at you with those eyes, hollow but needy, his chapped lips slightly parted and red, and shiny with saliva from how he's been licking his lips. He rested one hand on his ribs, his other arm resting limply on the mattress beside him.

You wrapped your hand around his hot, pulsing length, the weight of it heavy against your palm as you gave him a few slow tugs at first, your fist dragging up and down his soft, velvety skin before releasing him from your grip for a moment.

You spat in your hand, a thin string of saliva connecting it to your lower lip before it snapped as you brought your hand back to his aching cock, smearing it along his shaft to make it easier for your hand to glide along him.

The groan he let out at the warm, wet saliva on his sensitive skin flickered a small flame to life in your stomach, his nose scrunching up as he kept his glazed-over eyes locked on your hand working his dick, the hot sensation sending a pulse through his cock. A drop of precum formed on the tip, only to be wiped away and mixed with your saliva just as quick as it had beaded, your hand brushing against the thick, coarse thatch of pubes coiled around the base.

His breathing was heavy, a small groan escaping his lips every few moments, but you could tell he was struggling to lose himself in it like he usually did. You tightened your grip, hoping to pull him deeper into the pleasure, but he spoke.

"Looser, please, love," he murmured with his northern drawl, his eyes half-lidded. "Your grip."

You glanced up at him, your tongue licking along the backs of your bottom teeth before you adjusted your grip around him, not holding him quite so tight anymore, and you resumed your previous movements, altering them just slightly to appease him. You rested your other hand on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze while you jerked him off, and you looked up at his face again.

His breathing was heavier, his pupils wide and his cheeks flushed a faint red, but still, you could just tell he wasn't that into it. Not as much as he usually was.

The dim, pale light from the gap in the curtains of the grey, morning sun accentuated his furrowed brow, the creases of concentration rather than pleasure denting his face as your hand glided up and down his hardness, your thumb swiping over the head every so often to collect and smear any precum that had pooled on his tip.

The slick sound of your hand on him filled the air and he pressed his lips together, forming a tight line, before propping himself up on his elbows and speaking again. "Slower," he said next, his teeth grazing his bottom lip. "Start at the base... yeah... now twist your wrist just a little bit when you get to the top. I do it like that."

You follow his instructions, and hear his breathing pick up slightly, his nostrils flaring when you brush your thumb against the ridge just underneath the head. You felt him pulse against your palm faintly, and he felt something settle and simmer in his lower stomach. Not exactly heat, but not nothing either. Pleasure. This felt good, it was a handjob. But it didn't feel like the kind of pleasure that would heighten to an unbearable level and make him cum.

"Tighter, now..." he whispered, low and patient. "Not as tight as before, just... more pressure."

You obeyed once again, tightening your grip to what you thought was just enough, and resuming your rhythm with your eyes trained on his face.

He hissed softly through his teeth with a particularly upstroke, letting himself lay down properly again. "Use your thumb more."

You adjusted, teasing his frenulum and his tip with the pad of your thumb with every pump, and his thighs tensed before his right hand came up to grip your wrist to help position your hand just right for him, trying to get that burning feeling to begin to coil in his belly.

You continued to stroke him with his mild assistance, slowly and deliberately, and he sighed. It was deep and long, a small whimper seeping into it towards the end of his breath, his head falling back against the pillows as his abdomen muscles tightened.

You thought he was getting there, that you'd managed to figure out the way he does it to himself, but with another sigh from him, less out of pleasure this time and more out of frustration, whether it was with you or himself.

"Just..." he muttered, half under his breath. "It's alright. Just let me."

He gently took your wrist and slid your hand off of him, his eyes closing for a moment as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

You sat back, your knees curled under you as you watched him. He wrapped his fingers around himself with familiarity, like muscle memory, and he stroked himself slowly. He gave himself what he knew he liked, just the right amount of pressure to use, the exact rhythm to make his breath hitch on its way out of his throat, his fingers familiar with every nerve-ending and pulse point.

You watched the way his stomach flinched and the way his thighs shifted restlessly beneath him, his hips rolling upwards slightly in time with his strokes. He was gorgeous like that. Flushed and focused, his lips parted around quick, shallow breaths, his hair a mess atop his head.

His free hand came up to gently rub his left nipple with the pads of his fingers, a shaky moan passing through his lips at the dual sensations.

He let out a string of curses under his breath, his palm sopping wet with saliva as he stroked himself all the way from the base each time, his wrist twisting as he stroked upwards just the way he liked it, letting out soft moans when his palm brushed over that spot just under the head.

His wrist flicked in a practiced motion, dragging along the sensitive underside just right, his shaft twitching and spasming against his palm as he jerked himself.

His hand stayed locked around his cock as his other hand continued to play with his nipples, the hard points tingling with desire as his abs clenched and his hips bucked upwards into his hand.

“God, I'm gonna-” he cut his gravelly voice off with a moan as he let the pleasure overwhelm him, his head tipping back, throat exposed, and his eyes flickering shut.

Every part of his body except for his twitching cock and his blurred fist were taut, his body locking up on him for a moment before the first splash of cum spurted from his tip, landing on his chest.

His shaft twitched in his palm with each spurt, his hand sinking down to lock his fingers around the base, squeezing gently. Streaks of his release decorated his chest and stomach, dripping down his skin and pooling in his navel.

He slowly dragged his hand up his dick a few more times, milking himself of every last drop, his foreskin rolling over the top with each upstroke. He squeezed out the last few dregs of his cum, dripping over the tip, down the shaft, and down over his hand.

He let out a long, deep sigh, his hand lingering lazy around himself for a moment, even after the last remnants of his orgasm had faded, before sliding his hand off, now slick with saliva and cum.

The flush in his cock slowly faded, twitching half-heartedly as it deflated until it lay limply against his stomach, sticky, spent, and no longer the centre of attention.

You managed to tear your gaze away from his crotch, letting your pupils follow the trace of cum up his torso, admiring him. The thin sheen of sweat that clung to his collarbones, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the subtle flush of his cheeks.

You met his eyes to find him already looking at you, and his mouth opened to say something. “Sorry.”

He didn’t let you reply before he spoke again. “It's not that you're bad at it, it's just… I just needed it my way.”

Your eyes flicked down to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes once more. “You need to stop apologising.”

“I only apologise when I need to apologise.”

 “But you don't need to apologise for something like that.”

He sighed, not replying anymore than that. “Come clean your hand off.”

He pushed himself up off the mattress with his clean hand, slipping out of the room to the bathroom, and you followed him.

His soft cock dangled loosely between his legs, forgotten as he stood at the sink.

He didn’t speak as he scrubbed his hands under the stream, letting the water run the slickness from his fingers.

You stood just behind him, meeting his eyes in the stained mirror for a moment before looking down over his belly and chest, the streaks glistening slightly.

You reached for a towel from the rack and dampened it under the tap next to him, wringing it out in the sink before pressing it to his chest, wiping away his release.

You followed the dips of his collarbones before sweeping the cloth down, cleaning the mess from around his navel.

When you were done, you rinsed the cloth and set it aside, then moved to the sink to wash your own hands. He stepped aside, giving you space, and watching you in the mirror, before drying his hands with a fresh towel.

He handed it to you once he was done, leaving the bathroom to presumably make an attempt to get himself at least half decent while you finished drying off your hands.

You followed him out of the bathroom after draping the towel back over the rack, and you leaned against the doorway of the bedroom as you watched him bend down to grab a pair of fresh boxer shorts from the drawer, his limbs loose with post-orgasm calm.

Your eyes dipped lower to the curve of his hip and ass as he bent down, the way his muscles shifted subtly beneath his skin, still faintly blushed.

He found a clean pair of black boxers and stepped into them, tugging them up to his hips with a quiet little sigh before pulling a soft, worn grey t-shirt over his head, the fabric clinging to his still slightly damp chest for a moment before falling loose around his torso.

He wandered past you, downstairs, his bare feet padding quietly against the floor as he made his way to the kitchen. You listened to the quiet creak of the floorboards, followed by the click of the kettle and the dull flick of the toaster before you followed his path downstairs to his kitchen, still just in your underwear and a shirt of your own from the night before.

You lingered near the doorway as you watched him put two pieces of bread into the toaster while the kettle rumbled to life, steam curling upwards. He pulled out two mismatched mugs from the overhead cupboards as well as two teabags, one of them already split open at the corner, dusting the counter with flecks of brown shrapnel.

He hadn't done this for a while, not for someone else. It wasn't cooking, obviously, but it was enough to remind him how long it had been since he'd done anything for anyone else aside from himself.

The toaster popped up too early, the bread still too pale, and he shoved it back down with a quiet sigh, not quite frustration, but something on that spectrum.

The kettle reached its climax, the boiling beginning to settle as it calmed down, before the toaster popped up again. This time, the bread was a little too burnt, a little too crisp and blackened around the edges.

He stared at it for a moment, wondering if it was some kind of metaphor for his life, before he grabbed two plates and dropped a slice onto each of them with a clink.

He poured the water from the kettle into the two mugs, not asking how you take it, not particularly trusting himself to speak without fumbling at the moment. He fished the teabags out before pouring a splash of milk into each mug.

He glanced your way before making two trips to the small table in the kitchen, one with the plates, then one with the mugs. He nodded wordlessly towards the chair opposite him as he sat, and you took the seat across from him.

“I haven't cooked for anyone in a while,” he murmured as he took a bite of his dry toast, chewing slowly, mechanically. His appetite wasn't there, evidently. “Not that this is really cooking, but…”

You shook your head with a quiet smile, swallowing your sip of tea. “This is fine.”

He watched you carefully as you took a few small bites of the toast in front of you, not bothering with his own anymore aside from pushing his piece around the plate with the tip of his finger.

He glanced towards the windowsill above the opposite counter, the neatly lined up row of about half a dozen colourful nail polish bottles, with chipped caps and uneven sizes, catching the muted, grey morning light.

They were his wife's, obviously, one a bright red, another an electric blue, and another a sunshine yellow.

He looked at them for a second too long before dropping his gaze back to you, to your hands wrapped around the mug of tea, and he noticed that your nails were bare. He'd seen you wearing polish before, usually a deep red, or a glossy black, but not as often recently.

“You not been painting your nails?” he asked, nodding slightly towards your hands.

You glanced down at your fingers at that, your nails short and plain. Painting your nails hadn't been at the top of your priority list recently, but you were surprised he'd noticed. “Not as often now.”

He hesitated, his thumbs fidgeting with each other. “Would you mind if I painted them?”

The question caught you off guard for a moment, and something in you softened. It was sweet, the thought of him hunched over the table, being ever so careful to not get any polish on your skin, and blowing gently on your nails to help them dry.

“You paint nails now?” you asked, your lips tugging upwards slightly at the corners.

He let out a small breath of laughter. “I used to. My wife's. She liked it when I did. She said I was better than her.”

Your heartbeat became a bit more pronounced in your chest at that, that familiar feeling that arose in your chest every time he mentioned her that you couldn't quite name. “You can paint mine.”

He smiled, almost shyly, before he stood and crossed the room to the windowsill. His eyes scanned over them, his fingers hovering before he picked up a deep, gloomy, faintly shimmery purple, and he held it up, offering you the choice, but you just nodded.

He moved back to the table, the small bottle in hand, and he shuffled his chair closer to yours. He pushed the plates and mugs aside before setting the polish on the table. “Give us your hand.”

You slid your hand towards him, palm down, and he took it gently, like it was fragile.

His hands were big, slightly calloused, veiny, their actions softer than their appearance.

He held the bottle between his fingers and tried to twist the cap off, but it stuck. Old polish crusted just beneath the rim, dried and stubborn. He furrowed his brow and gave it another turn, still holding your hand in his, not wanting to let go. You felt his thumb shift against your wrist as he adjusted his grip, his jaw tightening just a little as he fumbled.

After another failed, futile attempt with his fingers, he brought the bottle up to his mouth, caught the cap between his teeth and bit down, twisting it with a quick flick of his wrist. You heard the faint crack of the dried varnish giving way as it tore, and his teeth released the cap with a quiet click, leaving just the small indents of his molars.

He set the bottle down carefully on the table, then lifted the little brush and gently dragged it along the inside rim of the bottle to wipe off the excess.

He looked very focused, careful, precise, like it really mattered to him to do it right.

The first stroke was slow and deliberate, the shadowy purple gliding onto your index finger's nail cool and smooth. He made sure not to go over the edges or to put too much polish on, really taking his time.

He paused to dip the brush again, wiped it on the lip of the bottle once more, before moving to the next nail, your middle finger's nail.

You sat still for him, admiring his face while he worked, the way his brows knitted together in concentration, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.

When he dipped the brush into the bottle once more, wiping the excess off on the rim, he spoke with a fond smile. “I always thought this is what having a daughter would be like.”

He began to paint your ring finger, one slow stripe down the middle, followed by two on the sides, coating your nail in that dark, bruised purple. “What I thought fatherhood would be like,” he said, his voice soft, almost paternal, tainted with something aching. “I used to picture something like this. Tiny hands, bright pink, glittery polish…”

He sighed, realising he'd let his words get ahead of him again, and he swallowed before dipping the brush again. “Sorry,” he started under his breath as he swiped the polish onto your pinkie nail. “That was daft.”

You didn't say anything, didn't try to fill the moment, no reassurance, pity, anything he hadn't asked for.

He didn't speak again after that, just focused on your nails, painting a coat onto your thumbnail before moving onto your other hand, quiet and a little withdrawn, maybe embarrassed that he'd said too much again.

He was no less careful as he continued, maybe even more so than before, biting his tongue to stop himself from saying anything else.

Once he was finished, he reached for a tissue to tidy up the edge of one nail where the moody purple had smudged onto your skin. He let go of your hand slowly, almost reluctantly, and he placed them both flat on the table. “Let them dry a bit. Don't want ‘em smudgin’.”

You nodded, dropping your gaze to your freshly painted nails, the subtle shimmer glinting through the deep, almost aubergine-coloured shades of purple.

He picked up the bottle, screwed the cap back on before standing up and setting it back in the windowsill, slotting it back between the two bottles it had previously resided beside.

He didn't say anything else before wandering off into the living room, and you heard the soft creak of the floorboards beneath his feet, followed by the long, low whine of the couch cushions as he sank down onto them.

You remained sat at the kitchen table, your hands splayed in front of you. The air still smelled faintly of burnt toast and tea, but the strong, chemically, strangely nostalgic scent of the varnish overrode them.

You watched the shimmer in the purple as the light shifted, how the colour changed when you tilted your hand one way or another.

You waited longer than you needed to. Letting the polish dry properly, letting him have his space, letting you have a moment of quiet to yourself. Then, once you were fairly sure your nails wouldn’t smudge, you stood.

You padded quietly out of the kitchen and to the living room, the floor of the kitchen cool beneath your feet. You paused in the doorway, letting your eyes scan over the room before settling on him on the couch. He was curled up on the corner of the sofa, one leg tucked beneath him and the other stretched out along the cushions.

He had a book open in his hands, The Fall by Albert Camus, his eyes fixed on the page in his lap, seemingly near the end.

Eventually, his gaze flickered up to you in the doorway, and he smiled softly, though hesitantly. “Alright?”

You nodded, letting go of the door frame and stepping in. “Yeah. Nails've dried.”

He glanced down at your hands briefly, catching the purple on your fingertips, before looking back up at you. “They suit you.”

You weren't sure what to say to that. You looked over the living room again, your eyes settling on the shelf with his records in, all neatly slotted side-by-side.

He must've noticed your admiring them, as he said, “Put one on, if you like. You choose.”

You looked over your shoulder at him before stepping over to his shelf and crouching down. Amidst all the Bowie, The Strokes, and The Beatles, you pulled out Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds’ The Boatman's Call.

You slid out the record and set it atop his turntable, adjusting the needle into the outer groove. As it began its slow spin, you turned towards the couch and sat beside him, tucking yourself under his arm.

As the first notes of Into My Arms began, you felt something in him shift. His body tensed slightly, turning his head for confirmation of the record you'd chosen. He sighed, and you looked up at him, slightly confused. “Are you okay?”

He hesitated, his mouth opening and closing, meeting your eyes for a moment before looking away. “This was our wedding song. Our first dance.”

Your lips parted, a sense of guilt creeping up the back of your throat. “I'm sorry… I can change it-”

“Don't worry. It's fine. It's a good one, at least,” he said with a small laugh that you couldn't bring yourself to reciprocate.

He tightened his arm around you, his other hand holding his book open on the correct page, pressing a small, gentle kiss to the top of your head before asking softly, “Want me to read to you?”

You tilted your chin up to look at him, and nodded once. “Yeah.”

A faint smile pulled at his lips before he looked back down at his page, the paper worn at the edges, and he shifted to make sure you were comfortable before he began.

His voice was low and steady as he read, the warmth of his accent blending with the slow, gentle piano in the background of Into My Arms.

He read the way one would read to themselves when no one was listening, but sweeter somehow because it was just for you.

The cadence in his words draped over you like a blanket, some of the sentences barely registering in your mind, but that didn't matter to you. What mattered to you was the gentle rumble of his chest beneath your cheek each time he breathed into another line, the weight of his arm curled around you, just the sound of his voice as he faltered on one or two of the heavier lines, even if you weren't taking the words in properly.

You closed your eyes, his thumb moving in idle circles on your upper arm as he read out the remainder of the chapter.

When he finished reading the final sentence, he exhaled slowly, shutting the book quietly and setting it aside on the coffee table in front of the couch.

As the final moments of (Are You) the One That I've Been Waiting For? faded out, he leaned his head back against the couch, his fingertips absentmindedly twisting the ends of your hair. He slowly stood up, his knees popping quietly as he stretched, and he crossed the room towards the record player.

He flipped the record carefully, then lowered the needle back onto the vinyl, a soft static crackle of the music coming to life once more as it nestled into the groove.

He came back to the couch, a bit slower than he'd left, and he settled in the corner again, tucking you back under his arm.

As the crooning beginning of Where Do We Go Now But Nowhere? creeped in beneath the faint vinyl crackle, he inhaled slowly, and you felt the shift in him. Something low and cautious.

“I'm scared,” he started. The way his vents usually went, no preamble, no easing into it.

You breathed in deeply, preparing yourself.

“I'm scared of growing older,” he clarified. “Not just the old age itself. The creaking joints and grey hair, that's already started.”

He let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “I can live with all that. Just the thought of waking up to someone I don't love for the next thirty, forty odd years. Knowing I don't love them.”

He adjusted his grip around you, holding you a bit tighter to him. “And I keep thinking… What if this is it? I've already made the choice that'll define me for the rest of my life, and now I can't change it?”

The record shifted tracks in the background, but it all merged into one as he continued. “I don't know if I'll be able to live with it.”

He shook his head, his hand dragging up and down along your back. “I try and picture what it'll be like ten years from now,” he murmured. “Sitting across from her at the table, wondering what the fuck I’m still doing there.”

He looked down at you, his hand coming up to your head and carding his fingers through your hair. “Then there's you.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, suspended low, before he continued.

“You make me feel something I thought I'd lost. Ever since the first time. And it really scares me. I'm not supposed to feel like this. I'm not supposed to want you.”

His voice cracked a little, but he didn't try to hide it. “And I don't know what that says about me. I don't know if it means I'm selfish, or a coward, or just a fucking idiot. But I know why I keep coming back. You make me forget how tired I am, how much of an awful person I know I am.”

His gaze drifted away after those last words, his eyes wet. His other hand rubbed at his throat, as if trying to figure out where these words are coming from, how to make them stop.

“I'm so fucking scared,” he said quietly, his voice brittle with worry. “Of getting old and realised I'd wasted it all. That I played it safe and stayed with someone because it was easier than leaving. It keeps me awake at night.”

His voice cracked once again and he tried to swallow it back.

“And then I see you,” he let out a shaky breath. “And you're so young, and I know it's fucked up. I know it's not right, but it feels right. Like I haven't lost everything.”

You tilted your head up towards him, and he turned his head down, meeting your eyes. His eyes searched your face, scanning over every minute detail. His finger gently brushed over your cheek, his eyes dropping to your lips. His tongue poked out, swiping over his lower lip, leaving a soft, thin, glistening sheen of saliva in its wake. He took a deep breath, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head, and he leaned in just slightly, pausing for a moment before he went all the way.

His lips touched yours, his chapped against your soft ones. It was soft, hesitant, a whisper of contact like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to. He certainly didn't feel like he was allowed to.

He shut his eyes, but he kept his mouth pressed to yours, his larger nose brushing against yours.

When he separated himself from you, he let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I told myself I wouldn't,” he murmured.

But he had, and it was too late now.

He pulled away from you slowly, his eyes still half-lidded. The kiss had dragged something out of him that he clearly wasn't ready to face.

He cleared his throat and stood up to his feet, rubbing his thighs with his hands before walking across the room to retrieve his wallet from the TV stand.

“How much do you want? For yesterday. And today.”

You blinked, pushing yourself up off the couch slightly. “You don't have to-”

“I do,” he cut in quickly, too quickly, fishing into a pocket of his wallet and pulling out whatever notes had been tucked into there. “You're not… you're not just here for the sake of being here. You're here because I pay you to be.”

You opened your mouth to speak but promptly shut it as he continued to speak, like if he kept talking fast enough, he could outrun the truth swelling in his chest.

“You wouldn’t've come if I wasn't going to be paying you. Right? That's the deal, that's how it's always been. You're here for the money. That's how it works.”

His voice betrayed him towards the end as it cracked. He didn't believe the words he was saying, like he was saying them as an attempt to trick himself into believing them. And maybe a part of him was hoping you'd contradict him.

“Just tell me a number,” he said, not meeting your eyes again, trying to remind himself of the rules.

You sighed, realising you can't talk him out of it, and you said, “£400.”

His eyes flicked up to you, his fingers paused mid-motion, and he asked, “Shouldn't it be more? You've stayed longer than you normally do.”

You just kept looking up at him, and he added quietly. “I'll give you £500.”

He sorted through the notes in his wallet, counting them in his head, and he let out a small sigh of annoyance as he only counted £210. “Hang on.”

He sauntered back into the kitchen, and you heard a few draws open and close before he walked back in, twenties and tens tucked between his fingers as he made sure there were enough.

He handed them to you, and when you hesitated to take them, he said, “Just take them. I should be giving you more, anyway. Double. For the therapy.”

He let out a small but dry chuckle at his own words, extending his hand further until you reluctantly took the notes. You set them in front of you neatly on the coffee table for now, and you watched him disappear into the other room again for a moment.

He stood in the kitchen with both of his palms pressed flat to the edges of the counter, his head bowed slightly, eyes on his feet. The hushed sound of the final notes of the record played out from the other room, but it felt distant.

That kiss. The way your mouth softened against his, the way your fingers curled loosely into his shirt, the way you made no attempt to stop it. It played over and over and over again in his mind, how natural it felt to lean into you like that.

He dragged a hand down over his face and over his mouth, frustrated with himself.

He tried to push the thoughts aside, shake it out of his system, get his mind to focus on something, anything else other than the growing tightness in his boxers.

His cock stirred back to life with a low but prominent ache, thickening slowly, ignoring and betraying every pleading attempt he made to try and calm it, to will it back down.

Just thinking about the kiss got him like this. The warmth of your lips against his still clung to him like a red wine stain on white satin, it was enough to leave him pulsing like this beneath his waistband, growing harder and more impossible to ignore by the millisecond.

He shifted his weight between his feet and made an attempt to adjust himself, but a boner of his size proved difficult to conceal beneath just a pair of soft boxer shorts.

It was stupid. Nothing. Teenager-y, almost. Getting a stiffy because of a kiss. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting both the shame and the warmth of the recent memory wash over him once more.

He was hard, and trying hard not to be. Trying to breathe and talk himself down, but the blood rushed too quick. The thought of your mouth, of your body, made his stomach twist and his cock twitch with desire.

He lingered in the kitchen for a little longer, steadying his breath, his hands still braced on the counter. His cock throbbed against the now-tight fabric of his boxers, tenting them obviously now, but he decided not to make an attempt to hide it.

Why would he?

That's why you're here, he told himself. Another reminder.

He pushed himself away from the counter and made his way back into the living room, his footsteps slow and quiet. You were right where he'd left you, bank notes splayed on the coffee table, your plum nails resting delicately on your knee.

You looked up at him as he entered, before your eyes expectedly flickered down to the unmistakable bulge pressing against his boxers, its thick outline pronounced and demanding attention.

A small, almost smug smile tugged at your lips, like you weren't surprised in the slightest.

You looked back up, your eyes locking with his, and you asked softly, casually, the same thing you ask every time, “What d'you want?”

He held your gaze for a moment, his eyes briefly dropping to your lips before they flicked back up again. “Ride me.”

His voice was low, rough andcertain, but simple and direct as he made his way back over the settee.

He sat to the left of you this time, his thumbs gliding under his black waistband as he slid them down to his ankles, the fabric pooling at his feet.

He grabbed a condom from the box on the small table tucked beside the armrest, tearing the wrapper open and rolling the latex down onto his shaft.

He turned his attention to you once more, grabbing you, pulling you to him, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of your underwear as he tugged them down.

He helped you onto him, your soft thighs brushing against the fair hair on his as you straddled him backwards, facing away from him.

He ran his hands up along your back, underneath your shirt, then slipping back out to hold your hips. You gave his scorching hot length a few strokes, pulsing and throbbing in time with his heartbeat, twitching with anticipation.

He ran his hands along the smooth backs of your thighs, up along your sides, then down your arms, groaning softly as he felt your folds brush against his sensitive tip.

He shifted you on top of him slightly, sinking himself further back into the couch cushions to give himself a better view and to give you more leverage. He ran his hands down from your hips, along your thighs, down your calves to your feet, gently running his fingers along the soft arches, and his cock visibly twitched.

He maneuvered your feet to sit just on his lower belly, leaning back as much as he could, rubbing his hand over your left foot before you began to slowly sink down onto him, enveloping his aching cock in your wet, inviting warmth, taking him all in, inch by inch.

“Good girl…” he whispered, his lips parting into a small ‘o’ as his breath caught in his throat, watching his thick cock disappear inside of you.

You rolled your hips as you adjusted yourself to get more comfortable, keeping your feet on his lower belly and holding onto his knees for stability. He hissed through his teeth, holding both of your feet to his skin with his hands.

You leaned forward slightly to take him deeper as you began to move, his cock managing to slip impossibly deeper with each slow, deliberate grind of your hips. He filled you up completely from this angle, the stretch, the curve of him nudging against every sweet, aching spot inside you.

The visual stimulation would've been enough to make him cum. The delicate arches of your feet perched on his belly, the curl of your toes, the bounce of your ass with each roll of your hips, he could hardly take it.

He practically salivated at the sight of your feet, your soles begging for his lips to touch them, for his tongue to drag along your heel all the way up to your toes.

“Oh, fuckin’ hell,” he whined, tipping his head back against the couch, his eyes rolling back beneath his eyelids. He grabbed your ankle with one hand and your waist with the other, blindly searching for anything to hold onto to guide him through the pleasure.

His thumb pressed into your flesh hard enough to bruise, and he forced his eyes open to drink in the way you looked above him. Your back arched, toes curled and hair bouncing, it could've driven him mental.

“God, daddy…” you moaned for him, and his cock twitched like mad inside you the second it passed your lips. That word did something to him.

“Say that again,” he groaned, breathless and wrecked. “Call me that again for me, baby, please…”

You ground your hips down harder on him, letting out another long, breathy whimper as he filled you so intensely, the sensation sending your mind reeling. “Daddy…”

A low growl rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest, packed with pure filth and unadulterated need. He looked down between you again, his eyes settling on your feet, watching as they flexed with each bounce, and his mouth parted like he was dying to taste them.

“You're gonna drive me fuckin’ mad, aren't ya?” he muttered, his voice so desperate it was almost laughable.

You kept riding him just like that, letting him watch, letting him want, yearn, desire, teasing him with every curl of your toes and every daddy you let fall from your lips, and he took it beneath you, wide-eyed, pupils blown, and mouth open.

You moved faster, more determined, the wet, obscene sound of his wide cock sliding in and out of your pussy getting louder, dirtier.

His breathing grew ragged behind you, and you could feel his abdominal muscles flexing and tightening beneath your feet. The tension in him was tangible, unbearable, his muscles taut and his shaft twitching deep inside you as he tried to hold back for as long as possible, to prolong this feeling.

“Look at you…” he rasped, letting out a long, whiney breath. “Fuckin’, god…”

You moaned for him in response, your head bowed forward as you dragged him closer to climax, chasing your own release as well.

The friction was perfect. The angle had your clit brushing against his tight balls just right, pressure igniting in your belly, the fuse burning down quicker than you could comprehend.

You circled your hips once, twice, taking him slow and deep before your voice broke into that perfect moan.

“Daddy-”

And that was it for him.

He let out a loud, guttural, broken cry as he spilled into the condom, his cock pulsing deep inside your cunt, throbbing against your walls as he panted beneath you, every muscle in his body rhythmically tensing and releasing.

The raw pleasure, the burning heat of him, the way his broken breath hitched as you rode him through his high, literally.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his voice higher-pitched and breathless, “Don't fuckin’, don't fuckin' stop-”

You didn't. You kept rolling your hips as you chased after your own high, the overstimulating making him shudder beneath you. One of your hands slipped between your legs, rubbing fast, tight circles on your clit as he made a half-hearted attempt to thrust up into you with what little energy he had left over.

Your orgasm hit you seconds later, rolling through you in strong waves, making you cry out for him as your body shook and clenched tightly around him. Every muscle trembled with the sheer force of it, your toes curling against his belly as your vision went dark around the edges.

He reached up, pulling you back against him, your feet sliding off of his belly to the couch cushions on either side of him instead. He held you tight against his chest, his arms curled around you almost protectively, still nestled deeply inside you.

He sat up slowly, ignoring the pop of his lower back, protesting from being cramped into a position like that for so long. His hand splayed almost protectively over your stomach before he slowly helped you lift your hips up off of his gradually softening cock, the thin latex coated in a sheen of wetness.

He helped you shift off of him, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck before letting you slip back into your knickers, and he carefully rolled the condom off before tying it off, standing up, and pulling his boxers up to his hips.

He gave you a small smile before walking off into the kitchen, presumably to toss the condom into the bin, maybe to get a glass of water too.

He stepped into the kitchen, barely sparing the abandoned plates of half-eaten pieces of toast and half-drunk mugs of tea before dropping the condom into the bin and fetching two glasses from one of the overhead cupboards.

You sauntered in a few moments later, just as he'd filled the second glass to the brim, and he handed one to you, taking a long, slow sip of his before setting it back down on the countertop beside him.

He watched your lips press against the rim of the glass, taking a slow sip yourself. You set your glass beside his, and he held his hand out to you.

You put your palm in his, a smile pulling at your lips, and before you could register what he was doing, he spun you into his arms, laughing at his attempt to dip you.

You laughed, half shy and half delighted, as he started to sway you side to side, his eyes locked on yours with some degree of admiration, a stupid smile plastered across his lips.

Seeing him like that made you smile yourself, and he pressed his lips to yours once more, holding his face against yours until he grinned against your mouth.

He spun you again, making you laugh out loud, that proper from-the-gut laugh, before he held you close to him again, his hands splayed across your lower back and your shoulder as he swayed you with him.

His stubble brushed against your skin as he tucked his face into your shoulder, pressing a few fleeting kisses along the side of your neck before pulling back and gazing down into your eyes.

His face was still faintly red, his hair damp with sweat, but he looked happy. Genuinely happy.

Barefoot, half-naked and moderately sweaty, but happy.

｡･:*:･ﾟ༓･*˚⁺‧͙ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚₊✩｡˚☽

i don't think the next fic i post will be a part four but i definitely will do one. im still just a bit stuck on what to do with him. also please ignore the very convenient nearby placement of the condom at the end 😭 i forgot about it until id already written about his dick inside and just slotted it in

[princessbrunette]

he didn’t expect an attitude at first. not from deer!reader, it would be too out of character.

he awakens to the sound of a voice that isn’t yours, seemingly playing from your phone. it wasn’t rare that you’d wake up before him and entertain yourself until he’s awake, whether that be reading or listening to one of your bizarre podcasts. today, you had clearly chosen the latter and as he comes into consciousness he’s met with the droning voice that relays the information.

‘so what psychological effects does cannibalism have on a human being? well that all depends on whether or not the participant was willingly—’

pope frowns, tuning out of the morbid details and yawns, body tensing up with a long stretch as he wakes himself up. with a gentle smile on his face, happy to have slept by your side for the first time all week — his eyes flutter open, seeing you sat up facing away from him in the bed, concentrated on the information being relayed to you.

usually, as soon as you hear him stir you’re all over him, softly rousing him from his slumber with kisses all over his cheeks, your eyelashes tickling him and getting him to chuckle. whilst you not bothering with this could have been a first sign pointing to your mood, pope was too disorientated with sleep to think anything of it, and simply reached out to touch the soft skin of your back.

“hey, good morning.” he coo’s, voice still raspy from sleep.

“mm.” you hum in response, and he puts it down to you being super concentrated on your podcast. infact, at the time he found it adorable.

once he’s up and ready, it’s then he notices that you’re even quieter than usual. when you speak, your answers are short and dare he say even snappy. he gives it time, trusting you to tell him what was wrong when you were ready. lack of communication hadn’t really been a problem in your relationship, considering you were typically well behaved 100% of the time — so still, your boyfriend wasn’t worried.

after a chillingly quiet breakfast, the boy starts to gather his things, and suddenly — you’re a lot more talkative.

“where are you going now?” you hover, watching him dig through his pockets to find his keys.

“jj texted me and his boat won’t start. apparently i’m the only person with common sense who knows how to fix it.” he rolls his eyes before locating the jangly set of keys. “bingo.” he praises himself quietly. you continue staring, a clear expression of disappointment and bewilderment worn on your face. he does a double take as the two of you stand on the pier, slowing his movements. “oh, i’ll be back though. real quick.” he promises, which doesn’t make it any better — especially when he’d said that earlier in the week and then disappeared the entire day. you let pettiness get the better of you.

“oh, i’m sure you will.” you scoff, staring down at the brown sandals on your feet. there’s a silence as he freezes, and you don’t look at him. sarcasm. now that really wasn’t like you.

“is…there something going on here?” he questions cautiously, slowly approaching you where you stand.

“i don’t know pope, is there? is there a reason you just don’t wanna hang out with me lately? am i that much of a bore?” you snap, and his eyes widen. you weren’t even good at having an attitude with him, eyes filling with tears. you know it’s been out of his control, the group needed him and he couldn’t let them down — but that didn’t stop you from feeling second bested.

“okay. where has this come from?” he furrows his brows and you hang your head in shame. he steps closer, placing two hands on your cheeks to get you to look at him. the mixture of his close proximity and the physical affection instantly calms you a little, and you realise that perhaps that’s all you’d been craving.

“i don’t know.” is all you manage and he shakes his head.

“i know i’ve been gone, okay. but… you know how the pogues are. i couldn’t leave them hanging. i’m yours for the rest of the week, i literally swear.” he convinces and you sigh out your nose, nodding.

“i’m sorry.” you admit quietly and he strokes your cheeks thoughtfully.

“is that why you had a little attitude today? you know you can just talk to me. i wouldn’t dismiss you.” he’s being so kind, and you just feel dreadful for being such a nightmare. craving his touch, you place your hands over his.

“can i just… have a hug please? i think i need one.” you communicate shakily and he breathes out a quiet laugh of relief, his brows still knitted.

“of course you can. you really don’t have to ask.” he pulls you in, strong arms squeezing you tight the way you needed, the compression helping you regulate your mismatched emotions the way he knew helped you. “and you can come with me to see jj. don’t just assume i’d neglect you.” he smiles, stepping back before holding out his hand. “coming?”

you take it, and he doesn’t bring it up again.

[whatdudtheysay]

Context - You're on a boring 'date' with the duke of the north. But a certain someone keeps catching your eye...

Tw - slight nsfw but nothing major.

Note - this series will have switching povs to show inner thoughts of both main leads <3 - might include other important characters.

Credit - @cafekitsune

You sighed softly as you woke up in your large bed, stretching with a light moan.

Another day of pretending to be poised and demure. You got out of bed and stretched once more before heading over to the long and big rope bell in your room.

You shook it tiredly and only 0.5 seconds passed before five different maids entered, two carrying hot buckets of water and three empty handed.

They all curtsied in sync, smiling at you warmly.

"good morning, your highness."

"good morning." You greeted back.

The two with the water moved into your ensuite to prepare your bath while the others went to your huge closet, holding out different dresses until you decided to choose a simple light blue dress. They nodded, offering comments like "excellent choice" and "you'll look amazing in this dress, your highness."

But you've heard it all before. You were then ushered into the bathroom for a bath, the maids helping you undress before helping you into the warm water, their hands helping wash your hair.

It was nice of them to do but you thought it would stop when you were 16. However, your mother insisted.

Luckily, time passed quickly and you were out of the bath. luckily, after you 'kindly' told them to excuse you to dress yourself, they did.

After they left, you laid back on your bed, your towel slightly slipping off. You were dreading today. A date with a duke? He's probably been divorced 4 times and has 7 children.

You were dreading it. But it wasn't like you had a choice. You sat up quickly and pulled on some underwear, your stockings, then your dress and then your jewellery.

After a long thirty minutes of doing your hair and drowning yourself in rose perfume, you finally got up and headed downstairs.

There, you entered the dining room and saw your father at the head of the table, smoking a fat cigar and reading the royale newspaper as usual, your mother beside him, drinking some tea.

"good morning." You greeted before taking a seat opposite your mother.

"Morning, sweetness. Are you prepared?" Your father asked.

"Prepared?" You feigned ignorance, staring at the window as the maids served you breakfast.

"do not play dumb, y/n. It isn't befitting-"

"-of a Princess. I know, mother." You cut her off gently. "But do I have to go on this outing? I know you all want what's best for me but a duke?"

"you rejected 30 princes, 5 imperial knights and an earl. This is for your own good since you love being stubborn." Your dad sighed, turning the page of his paper. "I'm guessing you got that from your mother."

Your mother gave your father a glare before she refocused on her breakfast.

You wanted to argue further but you knew that they'd make the situation worse for you. You hated how your parents acted when it came to your life...

It was your only chance at living and yet you weren't in control. You were just a doll to them... And then you'd be a doll to your future husband. The cycle wouldn't end.

"Very well, then. I shall prepare." You grit out before getting up and leaving your breakfast untouched.

You were walking. You didn't know where but you were angry and you just needed to walk it off before you got yourself in more trouble.

You continued to mumble to yourself, ignoring the different palace helps who stopped to greet you. After almost five minutes, you looked up and realised you were in a deeper end of the palace.

Unsure, you glanced around. Despite living here since you were born, you'd never explored this much. You weren't allowed to. Funny.

You continued going deeper. At least if you got lost it would give you an excuse to hold off on the date with the duke. Eventually, you found a room at the end of the hall and pushed it open, revealing a large hall.

"woah." You audibly mumbled. It was so big. A bit smaller than the main... You guessed it was a spare....

Hesitantly, you stepped inside and noticed a lot of portraits around. So this was where your childhood ones went. One of you as a baby, a child, then the most recent was from your 18th, just a few months ago.

You were about to let your hand gently brush against the golden frame when-

"A beautiful portrait."

You gasped and turned around to see.... Him...

Lieutenant Fushiguro.

"Lieutenant- what're you doing here?" You asked. Did he follow you? You hadn't noticed... Or heard him.

"forgive me for starting you." He bowed. "The king wants me to guard your date with the Duke...I tried to find you but the maids said you stormed off in this direction."

Oh.... That made sense....

You somewhat calmed down and nodded. "I see. Sorry...I didn't mean to waste time..."

It was a lie. You did.

But you couldn't deny, the view was... Delectable. The view of him in that tight dark blue and cream royal guard attire... The brooches on his blazer, his hair that was slicked back yet somewhat messy...

It was hard to ignore that delicious shiver that kept tingling down your spine.

"It isn't a problem...besides, I'm sure you are...dreading the meeting?" Toji supposed.

You sighed in relief. It felt like he was the only one who wasn't lobotomized around here.

"Finally! Someone who isn't brain-dead. Uh, no offense." You huffed.

He chuckled deeply in a way that made molten heat pool in your lower stomach.

"I'm not sure a woman such as yourself should settle for anyone you find below your standard." Toji shrugged simply, taking a few steps between you, eating up the distance.

You found yourself nodding to his words almost eagerly. How did a stranger manage to see it and say exactly what your heart wanted while your parents believed the complete opposite?

"I'm glad someone understands." You mumbled, glancing back at your portrait.

"Well sometimes you need a change of perspective." He spoke calmly, his voice a lot closer than before.

You glanced over your shoulder, swallowing thickly when you noticed he was merely a step away from you.

Before either of you could speak up, the doors suddenly opened and your father entered. You glanced at toji, then your father, noticing the stare off they were currently having.

"Y/n. Down to the main hall. The duke is waiting for you." Was all your father said.

But he said it in that voice. The voice he used when you were two ticks away from trouble. So, you moved around Toji awkwardly and quickly left the hall, your father closing the door behind you. Curiously, you pressed your ear against the door, overhearing some muffled words but nothing coherent.

"my lady."

You almost screamed at the sudden voice, whirling around to see your lady's maid and friend, Nobara.

"Gosh! Nobara, I told you not to sneak up on me anymore!" You lightly chastised, moving to interlink your arms, hoping your father hadn't realised you'd been eavesdropping.

She laughed softly. "Sorry. But I was told you'd be going out today?"

"yes... Just got a while. I hope." You sighed, remembering your 'date.'

"in that case, should I tell the emperor you'll see him next week?" She asked.

You raised a brow. Satoru wanted to see you? But why?

"I guess so. I'll probably be tired after the outing." You nodded. Now you wished you didn't have to go.

Satoru was your childhood friend before he inherited the Gojo empire. You barely ever saw him because it was situated in the far north and snow was fun until you got frostbite.

But you had to face reality... Before you got yourself into more trouble.

As you walked ahead, you took one last glance at the hall. The bigger part of you hoped you hadn't gotten Toji in any trouble...

ㅤㅤㅤ⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭ ⊹────⊹

(TOJI'S POV)

Fuck, it was hot. He was in the carriage with you, staring out of the windows, alert as usual.

But he was also discreetly staring at you. The heat was no match for a royal either. You were lightly fanning yourself, a bead of sweat moving down your collarbone, settling between the deep line of your cleavage.

Fuck. He had already ensured your father biting his head off about being near you earlier and now he was staring at those pretty tits eyes of yours. You kept glancing out of the window and then to your lap. Your fidgeting was making him nervous at this time.

"You alright, princess?" He asked, causing you to look up quickly.

You huffed, fanning yourself more. "Of course I am! I'm just... Thinking about my wonderful future wedding with the duke."

Toji chuckled, causing her to shyly avoid his gaze.

"I'm sure you'll receive many blessings of wealth and fertility." Toji hummed, making you gag.

"Ew, Ew, Ew! Don't!" You huffed, becoming more worried.

Toji sighed slightly. He could tell you didn't want to be bound to some random man and pop out more babies for him. Besides, who knew what the duke would make of the kingdom when your future husband took over.

Sadly, the ride slowed to a stop and toji helped you out of the carriage. He glanced around the large estate. It was....clean, kept...nice. befitting of a royal.

A woman came out, short and she had blonde hair.

"Good morning, I hope the the ride wasn't too eventful." She smiled, mostly at you than Toji.

"Oh, it was smooth, thank you." You replied with a smile as you had been accustomed to.

She led you up the path, Toji tailing behind, ensuring to keep an eye on the surroundings just in case...

They finally got into the estate, moving into the parlour which was thankfully, a lot cooler than the summer heat outside.

But then you suddenly stopped. Toji was a lot taller so he looked over your head and noticed a man sat, waiting...staring deeply into you.

Short silky blonde hair, regal robes and two different brightly coloured eyes. He had a wry smirk upon his lips and an odd look in his eyes as you stared at each other.

Naoya...the duke of the northern region.

Tags ღ - @blobkvna , @byerno6 , @iseeyouuu , @iloveaustinelvisandmannymore , @aloserprobably , @tojislittleprincesss , @meforpr3sident , @someonejasjsj

A/n - by changing povs I mean the story will focus more on one person than another just to lyk <3

Please don't steal or copy my work. None of the art in my works are mine 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

[queerdeans]

"Wrap Me Tight" — a Suptober ficlet

Day 17: Wings

Summary:

Dean finds a way, finally, to sleep well.

It’s one of those lazy afternoons. The type Castiel never thought he’d get to experience. He’d heard about them, sure, from the humans; apparently they were very protective over their lazy afternoons, their time spent doing nothing. Castiel had always thought it sounded boring; why would you want to do simply nothing? He had passed entire centuries doing very little, but they’d always moved swiftly, and he’d never quite wanted them to slow down.

Now, though, in the bunker with Dean – Cas understands the appeal.

In between hunts, in between fighting big bads, there are the soft days. The slow ones. Castiel forced himself, at first, to pass them with Dean; to stay, rather than flit off to some far corner, checking for news, omens.

And then he’d found that he quite liked them.

They’re better than the nights. In the afternoons, the lights remain on, there are things to do. They watch movies, or read, or just talk. He loves to hear Dean’s voice, loves what he has to say.

When evening comes, Dean grows cagey. Castiel knows that now that most of the dangers of his life have passed, though something always looms on the horizon, Dean’s having nightmares. He can’t hide it; Castiel can hear him wake up screaming, can see the sweat on his brow in the mornings, and those are the nights when Dean doesn’t allow him into his bedroom. The nights Dean can feel a nightmare coming on.

Castiel hopes this isn’t one of those nights.

It’s raining outside; Cas knows this because he’s coming back from the store, where he picked up drinks and food. When he returns to the bunker, Dean’s in the kitchen, whistling and cleaning. He turns as he hears Castiel approach.

“You get the pie?” he asks, always strangely suspicious that Cas would forget.

Cas holds up the bag. “Of course, Dean,” he replies. “I got several flavors. I didn’t know which you’d prefer.”

He sets it down on the counter and Dean comes over to him. He cups Cas’s cheeks in his hands and says, seriously, “Never change. I ever tell you that? I mean it.” He kisses him lightly before pulling the food from the bag, examining Castiel’s choices.

“Is Sam still not back?” Cas asks.

“Nope, he called a little while ago, said he’d be another night,” Dean replies easily as he takes the meat to the fridge. He casts Cas a backward glance. “Guess it’s just you and me.”

Castiel smiles at that. “We’ll have to make do.”

The afternoon slides by like that. Dean eats a few pieces of one of the pies and drinks a beer; Castiel drinks two bottles of vodka and just begins to feel the tendrils of tipsiness. Dean drags him to the living room and puts a movie on, stretches, and Castiel knows this routine. The one where Dean hems and haws and acts like he doesn’t want to lay in Cas’s lap, but he always ends up there. So Castiel cuts it short; he gestures to his lap, says, “C’mon.”

“If you insist.” Dean lays down on the couch, his legs so long that they kick up onto the opposite armrest, and his head comes to rest in Cas’s lap. Cas brings his fingers to play with Dean’s hair like he knows Dean likes. If Dean can slip into sleep now, he might get some real rest. The bags beneath his eyes, his heavy movements – these might fade. However, he knows that even in naps, even during the daytime, Dean often wakes up screaming.

The movie continues and he feels Dean relax slowly. His own eyelids begin to droop, though he is an angel, he is not truly falling into sleep – it’s more like his body (his vessel – he needs to stop referring to it as his body) is slipping into a calm, relaxed state alongside Dean’s.

He doesn’t realize he’s done it until Dean jumps, looking around wildly. “What the fuck–”

“What, Dean?” Castiel looks around them but there’s nothing there.

“Something – fucking – touched me–” Dean’s sitting up straight now and he touches his hand to his waist, frowning down at it.

Castiel pauses, realization dawning on him, and he doesn’t say anything for a moment. He’s not sure how Dean will take it.

But Dean knows him by now, knows him well enough that he narrows his eyes at him. “Cas,” he says, warning.

“It was, uh, me,” Castiel admits carefully. Dean has taken fairly well to some of his other angelic aspects, but Cas isn’t quite sure about this.

“You?” Dean raises his eyebrows. “How, you got another hand I don’t know about?”

“Not a hand.” Castiel watches him, waits for him to realize.

And he does – pretty quickly, too. Dean’s raised eyebrows go even higher, more curious. “Your wings? Touched me?”

“I’m afraid so.” He hadn’t meant to do it, truly. It was an angelic impulse, he supposes – the desire to embrace Dean with more than just his hands, his arms.

“Didn’t know they could uh, break the fourth wall like that,” Dean says, and he seems half-amused, half… is he scared?

“Typically no. But I… I lost focus. I apologize, Dean, I didn’t mean to.” Shame, a frustratingly human emotion, floods him.

Dean frowns. “No, no, man, it’s…” He breathes a laugh. “I mean. It’s just weird, I didn’t know that was, uh, something that was… possible.”

“It’s likely never happened before,” Castiel allows. “I doubt any other angel has ever allowed themselves to be so relaxed in the presence of a human.”

“Aw, Cas, you sayin’ I make you comfortable? You go all gooey and forget your form?” Dean jokes with a smirk.

“In a sense.”

Dean leans forward and kisses him. “It’s okay, Cas. I get it. You’re a celestial being crammed into a body. If anything, I’m honored.”

Dean relaxes back against him, lying with his head in Cas’s lap again, and Cas allows his wings to spread out. The movie continues to play but neither is paying attention to it.

Dean can surely hear the flutter of his wings, and Castiel wraps them around him, tentatively at first. The way he can feel Dean beneath his hands and wings is entirely different; the last time, in fact, he held Dean like this was in the depths of Hell. He had wrapped him in his wings and soared upward, the man’s body safe against Castiel’s chest.

Now years have passed. Slow, human years. So many things have happened and Castiel is able to touch Dean now without shame. He was once told that the touch of Dean corrupted him, that he had been lost the moment he’d laid a hand – a wing – upon his skin. But Castiel knows this isn’t the case.

He feels the moment Dean slips out of wakefulness and into sleep, and Castiel wraps his wings more tightly around him. He can hear the rustle of feathers and he allows his own head to fall back against the back of the couch, his own eyes to fall shut. He isn’t the one being held, and yet he too can feel the calm, the warmth of it.

It’s morning when Dean wakes. Twelve hours of sleep have gone by with no dreams whatsoever; he rolls over, groggy, stiff from the couch cushions, and rubs his eyes. Castiel smiles down at him, looking as if he too is coming from sleep. “Good morning, Dean,” he says. “How’d you sleep?”

And Dean takes a moment to assess, to smile, before he says, “Like a fuckin’ baby.”

[a-strange-echo]

Wild nap

Pairing: Marauders x reader

Summary: a nap with the marauders and the reader.

Word count: 573

Warnings: none, just pure fluff. (Reader's gender is not mentioned) (Implied Sirius x Reader but interpretation is up to you).

Author's note: I was bored in class and made this so it's worth what it's worth. For the person who requested something, it's in the works, I started but can't find motivation to finish it right now so I am posting this to make you patient, sorry it's taking so long. As always: English is not my first langage, please be understanding and notify me if there is any mistake, I will correct them.

A few hours later, when James was supposed to be back home, Remus decided to search the whole house for him as he still haven’t seen him and was supposed to be back home for some time now. When he opened the door to the room the fox and the dog were still sleeping in, Remus didn’t expect to now see a stag cuddled up to the dog. The scenery was weird, to say the least. A full grown stag sleeping pressed to a dog that almost looked like a wolf who, himself, was curled around a small, red fox.

Remus immediately stopped when he entered the room. Here, on the floor, slept a big, black dog and a smaller fox. He knew who both these animals were, he wasn’t stupid. So he grabbed a blanket that laid on the bed they didn’t even bother to sleep on and covered both his sleeping friends with it. As quietly as he could- as he knew the fox was quite grumpy when woken up- he left the room to make himself a cup of tea.

Remus sighed. He couldn’t understand why his friends would be sleeping on the floor instead of their bed, but, mainly, why would they sleep in their animal forms? As he watched the three animals, his long day caught up to him and sleep made itself known in his body. He took a pillow from the bed and another blanket then settled next to the stag, right behind the black dog. The stag blinked his eyes open when he felt movement around him. When he noticed Remus was next to him, he pulled him more against himself with his front leg. The man now had his head resting on the stag’s stomach, the fur warm under his ear. All fell asleep like this. Cuddled to each other. Remus had to admit, it was pretty comfortable to sleep like this.

When you woke up from the nap, you were alone in the room but could hear voices coming from the living room and someone in the shower. You got up and stretched only to realise you were still in your fox form. You shifted and joined the group in the living room.

When you stepped in, you saw Lily, Mary, Dorcas and Marlene talking with Remus and Sirius. Sirius’ head shot up once he saw you and waved you over. You did as told and once you were within range, Sirius pulled you to sit on his lap. You blushed a little but were soon distracted by the photo ho showed you.

“-Look at how cute we look! I can barely see you, you were snuggled so deep in my fur, it’s covering you.”

“-You’re warm and have big paws, it’s really comfortable.” you responded. “Who took the photo?”

“-Lily did.” Sirius answered.

“-When none of you answered the door we just let ourselves in like you always do in our flat.” She explained.

“-Then we searched for you and found you all cuddled together. Lily couldn’t help herself and took a photo.” Mary continued.

“-Well, I like it a lot.” You said before Lily could make a nervous comment as you took the picture from Sirius’ hands.

He was confused at first but then he saw you get up and put it on the wall with all the others. The wall was complete now. Complete with happiness and life.

Thanks for reading, take care <3

dividers by @cafekitsune

[kindnessisweakness2]

8

Cara spent the rest of the night wrapped up in juice, getting to know all she could about the man she instantly deemed sex on legs. Emily however quietly slipped away into the garage on her own. She sighed in relief as she slumped down on a stool leaning against the large red tool box behind her. The cool metal dug into the bare skin of her back, slightly painful but the cold was relieving. She still couldn't get over the nerve of Noah. Part of her really believed he would never leave her alone. Some weird attachment thing, wanting to be her first and last. She scoffed at the thought, he would've been if she never found out the truth. The ugly painful memories wouldn't leave her brain. Since everything happened she hadn't stopped questioning herself. Did she do something wrong? Was it the way she looked? The bright hair and tattoos. The way she dressed maybe? Or it was just her. Boring, lazy Emily. She never does any thing exciting. Rather stay home, read a good book, binge watch a TV Show or cook. "What are you doing in here?" Gemma's voice made her jump. "Fuck!" Emily held her hand to her heart as if it would ease the pounding. "Sorry I was just hiding. Needed a minute. I haven't touched any thing, not snooping don't worry." Emily held her hands up and walked towards the door to leave. "My son seems to be quite smitten with you." The words made her freeze and turn to face the charming legend that was Gemma Teller. Emily had heard the whispers about her. The fiercly protective mother hen. All the girls on Jax's fling list striving for his mothers approval, all but kissing the ground she walked on, hoping she would whisper in her son's ear about how good of an old lady they would make. But Gemma had yet to properly get to know Emily. And when she did she would realise that she wasn't going to bow down to no one. The way she was raised, your respect was earned and you handled your own shit. Head held high no matter how many swings life took at you. "Don't worry mama bear, I'm not looking to worm my way in to your family. He's just being nice since everything happened with Noah." Gemma raised a knowing eyebrow at the young girl as she continued her rant. "Your son strolls around Charming using his good looks and reputation to make every girl smile and drop her knickers. As I've clearly shown with Noah, I don't share." Emily sighed rubbing her temples. "Look I'm sorry. Im not blind. I know how the women are. Trying to insert themselves into the club wanting to gain an old lady title. I get your protecting Jax, but I'm not planning on falling at his feet like everyone else." Gemma smirk stretched across her face and it irked Emily. "I see it y'know. The little looks you throw at each other. The smiles." Emily's stomach twisted at Gemmas words. Was it that obvious? I mean yeah, she was attracted to him but who wouldn't be? "This is ridiculous. We've known each other a few weeks." Gemma eyed her as she moved to sit on the stool Emily jumped from. She was different from Jax's usual choice, a million miles from Tara and the blonde porn star he recently grew fond of. Sure she'd caused some trouble with her temper but Gemma couldn't question how well she handled David Hale when he came snooping. "Deny it all you want darlin'. I'm just giving you a heads up that loving my son isn't easy. This life isn't for the weak." Emily scoffed at Gemma's words as she watched her lean back blowing out smoke from the cigarette she just lit, black and blonde curls falling from her shoulder. She warned her as if she had never loved a biker before. Noah's probation period was hard the first time, but she'd supported him regardless. He hadnt been patched long when he done her dirty. " Yeah i know. I'm still paying the price for it now." Emily spoke through gritted teeth before storming from the garage.

Jax's head snapped up at the sound of the slamming of the garage door. He'd been sat at the tables with Opie, Chibs and Happy. Juice and Cara had disappeared to somewhere quieter, either getting to know each other more or getting down and dirty. Confusion settled on his face as he spotted Emily storming across the lot, face like thunder, his mom stood leaning against the door frame watching her. Ignoring Opie calling his name, Jax got up and chased after Emily. "Em!" She heard him call her name and for some reason it just pissed her off more. "Go back to the party, I'm going home. I'll pick Cara up tomorrow when shes done fucking juice." Emily still spoke through gritted teeth, not turning to look at him once as she walked down the dark street. "What's happened? What did my mom say?" Jax questioned. He knew what his mom was like, how bitchy she could be. Gently grabbing her arm, Jax tugged her towards him stopping her angry power walk. Emily rolled her eyes, refusing to look up at him. Even in these stupid heels he was taller. "she have me the speech I'm assuming she gives every one that gets remotely friendly with you. The old lady warning." Jax sighed as Emily carried on speaking, not giving him a chance to cut in. "Look, I'll tell you what I told her. I'm not after the old lady title. I'm not a damn patch bunny, crow eater or whatever other stupid name you have for them. One biker has already caused me enough hassle so if you expect me to jump into bed with you, your fucking wrong. If you wanting to be around me has anything to do with fucking with Noah, you can fuck off too! I enjoyed watching Cara bust his balls but you seem to have an issue with him and you can leave me out of it. Don't get me wrong Teller, your sex on legs and no doubt a girls wet dream but the fact you know it and you use it to get these girls to fall for you leaving broken hearts around Charming, makes me sick." Turning on her heel, her chest heaving with anger Emily continued down the street. She managed a few steps before turning to face a shocked Jax. "And just so it's extremely clear, the notion of an old lady pisses me off. I have never and will never stand behind a man and do as I am told. I'm an all or nothing kinda girl Teller." Jax smirked at her. She'd invaded his mind since that first day she saw her. She was mouthy and short tempered and Jax honestly loved that about her. He needed people around him that he could rely on to tell him the truth. People around him were always filtering their answers, like smoky truth, trying to please him. Their reputation in town clearly made people treat them different. Some idolised, some avoided. But Emily was never rude to any of them despite what Noah did. She never pryed for information trying to make herself a permanent fixture in club life. Most wanted affiliation, to be protected. Emily never seemed to want anything. Jax closed the distance between them, smirk still stretched across his face. "A girls wet dream huh?" Emily's eyes widened both in shock and Suprise. "Are you kidding me? THAT is the only thing you took from my whole rant?" Jax laughed at how pissed off she was. She was so fucking adorable. "Calm down pocket. I heard everything." Her hands flew to her hips in frustration, she glared at the man infront of her. "Pocket?" Jax grinned his own hands deep in his Jean pockets. "Yeah like pocket rocket! Your always seconds away from exploding." Emily felt the heat on her cheeks and knew she was glowing red. "I've got no ulterior motive here em. I just genuinely like you. Your different, good. Noah didnt see it, clearly didn't appreciate you. My mom's pushy, always putting her foot in her mouth." Jax moved her hands from her hips, replacing them with his own. His thumbs rubbing circles on her exposed skin. Emily bit her lip. She felt like a stupid teenager, her skin tingled at his contact. He was addictive. His warmth comforting. "Come back to the party. If you want to go home later I'll take you on the bike."

Emily didn't want to agree, but one look in those baby blues and she found herself letting a smiling Jax lead her back to the party.

[warcats-cat]

Not Far Away

Read on A03!

Read the Original: Long Road Home (also on A03!)

A/N: It's been so long! I'm so sorry! I've been stewing on this for literally months and I just haven't been able to actually *post* it, so I'm cutting it off now and just sending it out into the world. This one is a one-shot that's pretty long, but I do have a multi-chapter sequel also in the works! I just decided I wanted this out first. Special thanks to @thecrowslullaby and @lickoutyourbrains on tumblr for beta'ing this and many other wips for me. Please let me know if I need to add any more tags!

(Takes place after Long Road Home but before Wide Eyed In Wonder.)

-----

Of all the things that would take time to adjust to, Patton wouldn’t have considered the amount of time spent doing nothing, just sitting in the carriage as it drove. Roman wanted to hold the reins almost constantly, and the other three would shuffle between sitting inside and sitting on top of the carriage itself.

The first few days, Patton had found himself fascinated by how spacious the little room was; it looked nowhere near as sizable from the outside. The inside benches were lightly cushioned, so one could stretch and lay down for a nap, and they were long enough to fit two people sitting comfortably. Logan spent a lot of time reading and taking notes, pulling a long desk-tablet down from the wall to keep his writing steady.

Virgil had spent several days trying to teach Patton some dice and card games, using the tablets, to mixed success.

The roof of the carriage was carefully guarded with a railing and gate that had to be hooked into place or Roman would refuse to drive. There was a bench up there, as well, although this one had no padding. (That didn’t stop Patton from sleeping on it occasionally; the steady motion was relaxing enough to ignore the hard surface. And certainly, it was more or less as comfortable as anything he had slept on at Wardenthall Manor.)

But outside of losing games of chance, watching the various roads and woods pass by, or borrowing Logan’s books, there was nothing to do. Patton wasn’t used to being so bored.

He wouldn’t go back to Wardenthall Manor for all the money in the world, but at least when he was there he’d been busy. There were letters to run into town, packages to collect, trinkets to dust and polish and all manner of things to keep clean. He took kitchen duty every other day. And several of the other staff often took advantage of the knowledge that if something wasn’t done, Patton would be blamed for it.

Even when he wasn’t doing chores, he took a lot of time to fix his clothes and blankets, knead used lumps of wax back into some semblance of candles, keep lists of what the manor and his own supplies were low on. Very rarely, when he’d been younger, he would sneak into His Grace’s library to find something to read.

He loved the opportunity to travel, but there was no real busywork until they stopped to make camp, and even then, the others only gave him the lightest share.

He was laying down now, on his side, trying (and probably failing) to discreetly watch Logan as the other man was reading. He could just barely see around the edge of the book from this angle, and looking up, the scholar’s face was lit beautifully by the mid-afternoon light. He looked like a warm painting, almost. His eyes flicked around the pages while his face twitched with the thoughts of whatever he was reading; small smiles or frowns, his lips pressing together as he made a note of something he disagreed with.

That was one of Patton's favorite things about Logan; he annotated all of his books.

It was really helpful for Patton to catch up on history and events; he hadn’t exactly had the best continued education at Wardenthall Manor, not that he’d bring that up to his companions. It was embarrassing enough to be caught not understanding things; he didn’t want to bother Logan with having to tutor him too.

Besides, Patton looked forward to those annotations. They were Logan’s voice, guiding him along the pages and pointing out what was important, what needed to be given more thought. There were also occasionally translations; Logan could read and write in Runic, the written language of spells and magic, and he spent at least part of his time during stops in the various cities and towns they happened upon cross-referencing other languages that may be available for translation. His newest books would have thin strips of ribbon throughout, marking pages that needed further research.

Patton thought he was brilliant.

Virgil would be up on top of the carriage right now; playing with his strings or sketching patterns, ‘keeping an eye out for assailants’. Bandits were apparently a rare but unfortunate hazard of traveling via the main roadways, and though the carriage had some form of magical protection, and all three of his companions were well-seasoned fighters, they tried to avoid violence as much as possible. Incapacitate instead of kill, trap instead of wound; that sort of thing.

Patton was so lost in his own thoughts, he barely noticed Logan’s gaze flicking up and catching him staring. The scholar smiled, although he continued to peruse his pages, and cleared his throat. Patton’s attention snapped right to him.

“Either you find something fascinating in my face, or you are daydreaming,” Logan said, his tone even but with a hint of mirth. Patton felt his face flush, and he stammered.

“Well – I – I mean, I didn’t mean to be staring –“ he jumped to cover his face with his hands, and struggled to get his words in order; almost missing Logan setting his book down and leaning over, gently ruffling his hair.

“It’s all right, Patton. I’m not upset.” Logan’s voice was soft, and although the fairy was still embarrassed, he felt himself calm a little further. Patton shimmied into a more comfortable position, lying on his back, and Logan leaned back onto his own bench. “We should be stopping soon, anyway; I’m at as good a passage as any to pause for the evening.” With that, the scholar folded the tablet back up and set his current book aside.

They were quiet once more, Patton watching the shadows on the ceiling and listening to the sounds of the woods around them. They would have to set up camp for the night, which would finally give Patton something to do. It was his turn to make dinner: and though all they really had was a fire, a spit, a cauldron, and a heavy cooking plate of some sort, Patton found he still enjoyed the activity. His time in the kitchens was probably the most positive memories he had from the past twelve years.

They had some oil left over from some meals in the last town; somehow, unbeknownst to the other three, Patton had ended up wandering into the inn’s back kitchen and been seen by the Innkeeper’s wife. And since he had so much trouble saying no, and his clothes were his typical worn out traveling shirt and pants, she simply assumed he was a new hire her husband forgot to mention, and put him to work.

He was back there three hours before the others found him. Poor Virgil was on the edge of a frenzy, and had little crackles of lightning running through his hair.

The Innkeepers had been grateful, though, and the people staying there quite liked Patton’s cooking, so he offered to keep cooking the second day they stayed over, to give Logan more time in the local library.

At the end of their stay, he outright refused payment, so the group was sent on their way with things Patton considered more valuable than gold - well-rendered cooking oil, fresh vegetables, and a small jar of local wild spices. Really, nothing tasted better than the things clever people could gather from the world around them. All four travelers savored every bite.

They still had a few vegetable scraps; Patton was good at rationing, and had been put in charge of food supplies by Virgil so Roman didn't cook everything in one go and waste all of their good food. The vegetables and some dried venison over a hot cooking plate with the rest of the oil would do for a good, hearty meal for them.

Finally, Patton heard Roman’s high whistle, breaking him out of his thoughts, and he felt the carriage slow to a stop. He sat up a little too suddenly, and shook his head to clear the head rush. Logan was halfway out the door already, and tried to pause to check on him, but Patton pushed himself to his feet and gestured for Logan to go ahead.

Patton wanted out.

Setting up camp was hard work, but at least it was work, and Patton set right to it before Virgil had the time to climb down or Roman could dismount.

The storage box fixed to the back of the carriage was also enchanted; Patton knew there was no way a normal luggage box could hold as much as this one did. He’d packed enough boxes for travelling nobility to know.

Opening the box, the first thing to appear was the tent itself, sturdy canvas rubbed down with wax, wrapped around the poles and nails that would support the fabric and stretch it tight. It was a fairly heavy and ungainly bundle, but Patton managed. He heard Roman say something as he hefted the supplies, but wasn’t quite certain of the words until the Prince appeared behind him, easily swiping the bundle from his arms.

“Hey!” Patton whined, “I was carrying it just fine!”

“Yes, but it’s also your turn to cook tonight,” the Prince said with a sly smile on his face, “I don’t want your arms to get tired.” Patton felt a little petulant, and grumbled wordlessly as he pulled out other supplies for Virgil and Logan to spread out and set up. Virgil took their bedrolls, giving Patton a little kiss on the cheek as he did so, and strolled off to help Roman pitch the tent.

Well, maybe it wasn’t all bad…

Logan was dutifully laying carved stones around the camp; some kind of protection circle that they used every night to ward off anything with bad intentions. Even if this was the first time he was traveling, Patton knew how dangerous the woods could be without protection. He really wished he had the nerve to ask Logan what the runes meant though, since they seemed to somehow ward off regular animals as easily as the supernatural.

Sometime later, the camp was set and protected, dinner cooking slowly over their little fire, and the sun was almost gone completely for the night. Roman was singing some traveling song with a steady rhythm; following the bouncing tune of a music box sat somewhere near the tent. He danced around the fire and occasionally pulled Logan or Virgil in for a few steps. The pair pretended to only tolerate the Prince, but Patton could see the little sparks of joy in their eyes when Roman dipped them or set them in a spin. The three were so sweet together.

Turning back to their meal, the fairy wondered once again just how they had met; how had Virgil gone from the shy orphan boy Patton remembered, to a fierce and protective fighter, and the companion of a Prince. Where had Logan come from, and how had Roman singled him out to be an advisor? When had the three agreed to become romantically involved?

What made them want him to butt in?

Patton frowned, and shook his head again, trying to clear the negative thought. They want me here, he told himself. They asked me to come. They’re my friends.

It was hard to remember, sometimes. Hard to remind himself that, despite everything, he was allowed to travel with them. More than allowed, they often said. And yet, it was hard to take Virgil’s hand carefully when they decided to walk instead of ride, and not think of Logan’s sharp eyes watching from the carriage window. It was hard to feel Virgil’s strong arms around his waist or the mage’s lips on his forehead, and not worry that the Prince was glaring at him for daring to tempt Virgil away.

It was all in his head, but that was the problem. It wouldn’t go away.

“Is the grass around here really so fascinating?” Roman’s voice was suddenly significantly closer.

Patton spluttered and looked up, right into the warm, brown, teasing eyes of the Prince himself, and felt his cheeks turn scarlet.

“I - I wasn't distracted!” He said in a rush, the only thing he could think of in the moment. Roman’s smile only widened, as he leaned in and took Patton’s hand from the stirring spoon.

“Well, then, I'll have to try harder!” The Prince declared, pulling the fairy to his feet. Patton was a little dizzy from the change, and wholly confused; even more so when he felt Roman’s hand ghost lightly over the back of his waist.

Impossibly darker red, Patton stammered and looked away, “I d- I don't know how to dance, Your Highness…” and yet, Roman laughed, and said in a conspiratorial faux whisper,

“Don't worry, neither does Logan.”

The royal advisor let out an indignant ‘hey!’, but Patton couldn't say any more before Roman had begun leading Patton in a slow, repetitive series of steps; softly murmuring praises in Patton’s ear while the fairy stared resolutely at his shoes, cheeks burning.

Roman’s hands were soft, and princely, but he had calluses at his fingertips and on his palms from driving the reins and all the finer work of travel. He swayed with Patton in rhythm as the pair circled the fire, uncaring when the fairy accidentally stepped on his feet or stumbled. Thankfully, dancing was just patterns of steps, and Patton was able to build a little confidence with it as they went.

It was certainly longer than Roman had danced with Logan or Virgil.

They carried on like that for a while, the time becoming a lazy blur; before suddenly Roman let go of his waist a moment and twirled him, guiding him back into a low dip. Patton was dizzy with the low light and flickering fire, the enchanting eyes of the Prince holding his gaze; and he squeaked in surprise, grabbing at His Highness’s shoulder for balance. The Prince was breathing heavily, his eyes sparkling and his smile wide and radiant.

Virgil’s voice came from behind him, breaking Patton's trance;

“Gentle, Princy…” the young mage warned. His voice was playful but protective, and Patton couldn't help but giggle from the ridiculousness of it all. Him, an orphaned half-blood fairy nobody, dancing in the woods with a Prince. And then behind them, his lost childhood friend and semi-romantic partner threatening said Prince, as if Patton was delicate.

As if he was a treasure.

“W-well, he is a gentleman after all!” Patton declared, at the edge of hysterics. His Highness laughed, and pulled Patton back upright; this time grabbing the fairy’s waist firmly and lifting him, spinning around carelessly.

“That was brilliant!” Roman laughed.

Now Patton really was dizzy, and he stumbled when the Prince placed him back on the ground. Another pair of firm arms snaked around his chest, keeping him from falling flat onto his face.

“Gotcha.” Virgil's voice was now low in Patton's ear, the mage’s arms holding him steady as the fairy caught his breath. The closeness and the whisper of Virgil's voice made Patton involuntarily shiver. Virgil held him close, his chest against Patton’s back, and seemed uninterested in letting go as he tucked his chin over the Fairy's shoulder and leveled his even gaze at the Prince.

“I thought I told you to be gentle.” Virgil chided the Prince, but without any real malice to it. His hold loosened, just slightly; a lazy hug that still kept Patton from falling.

Or walking away to tend dinner, like he was supposed to be doing…

Roman stuck out his tongue playfully, teasing Virgil, who huffed. The mage gently pressed the side of his face to Patton’s, knocking their temples together and smooshing Patton’s cheek. A soft gesture, a reminder of when they were little. They’d both tried to explain the action to Logan and Roman, but it simply didn't have words. It was just comfort.

With that, he squeezed Patton’s sides mischievously, making the fairy “eep!” as his most ticklish spots were attacked, and the mage slunk back towards the prince for another dance.

The fairy turned back to his cooking, finding that Logan had, thankfully, taken over so the meal didn't burn. He took the spoon back with a soft “thanks”, and Logan leaned in to kiss his forehead before going back to the carriage for his books.

Patton watched the meat and vegetables sizzle, the fire licking at the edges of the plate. In the dusk, the dancing light was almost hypnotic. He poked and stirred the food, letting the smells wrap around him like warm cloth. His mind wandered back to Wardenthall Manor, to the mornings that were almost peaceful; before His Grace had been awoken and the other servants stirred from their apartments. Roasting slim slices of turkey or wild pheasant, carefully brewing the perfect amount of fancy coffee that was ordered from another kingdom, a whole world away.

His Grace had always been particular about each meal; feasts and parties were another matter entirely, but for his own food he picked careful quantities and ingredients, and had a strict schedule of when each type of meat could be served. His god was a ruler of Order and Purity, and His Grace was firm in the belief of caring for his body and mind, so that he remained in his favor.

Patton wasn't allowed to speak the god’s name on His Grace’s order; he was only half human, his Purity was sullied with the wild blood of Faerie. He didn't know much about the other gods.

A piece of venison popped, spitting a tiny bit of hot oil at Patton’s fingers, and he blinked, landing rather roughly back in the present after tumbling out of the memory.

Patton suddenly realized that the music had stopped, and now his companions were standing next to the tent, Virgil and Roman apparently playfully arguing about something. Logan had wandered off somewhere, perhaps to study nearby flora. 

“Guys?” the fairy called hesitantly, looking over his shoulder “Is something wrong?”

Roman huffed, not meanly, and shook his head. “Someone over here has decided to be a Sensitive Storm Cloud about where he sleeps.”

“That nickname was pitiful,” Virgil smiled and gave the prince a playful shove, before turning his attention to Patton in full. “I told Roman I wanted to sleep on the outside tonight instead of the middle, and now he’s throwing a royal fit.” The mage’s smile grew with the verbal dig, and Roman crossed his arms in mock offense. "Roman always takes the outside position in bed, or wherever is closest to the door. He acts like it's to keep guard of us. It's not."

Roman threw his hands up in frustration. "I like being the big spoon ok? I like to hold you both! Slap me, why don't you?"

Logan appeared just then, and with a mischievous smile that was rarely seen, he reached up and smacked the back of the Prince's head as he walked past.

"Hey!!" Roman spluttered, this time with real shock and indignance.

Logan smugly returned his arms to their neutral position clasped behind his back, smirking to Virgil and Patton as he walked back to them.

“I was only following your express orders, your Highness.” he said, teasing heavily apparent in his voice.

Virgil was laughing heartily at this exchange, and Roman continued to splutter, before his face changed to rigid frustration and determination. He grunted, and Patton had a few moments of panic wondering what the Prince would do about this offense. Logan was still walking away, and before Patton or even Virgil could say anything, he charged at the scholar.

Patton would have screamed if he wasn't choking on his own tongue.

Roman deftly grabbed Logan's sides, and there was a short cry of surprise as Roman lifted the scholar up over his shoulder; acting as if the other man was a particularly ungainly log. Logan squawked, and swatted at the arms holding him.

“Put me down, you brute!” he thundered, but there was a smile breaking out on his face, and Roman was laughing too, and Virgil was recovering from his own mirthful fit. They’re fine. Everything is fine. Patton tried to take in a few steady breaths as he turned back to the stewpot, although he felt his face heating once more from embarrassment.

They loved each other. They were playing. No one was mad and everything was ok.

His Grace had never been one to act in violence, preferring others administer the lessons Patton was to learn. But the set of his jaw, the darkness in his eyes, were always the first sign that Patton had screwed up. There had only ever been one time His Grace had handled the situation himself - an important business discussion over dinner, when Patton had inadvertently insulted another Lord and cost His Grace a vital land contract.

He’d backhanded the fairy so hard the bumps of his knuckles left bruises that were tender for almost a month. Patton learned better than to speak unprompted after that.

He had no idea how much time had passed before Patton felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see the Prince watching him with soft, concerned eyes. The fairy was suddenly aware that all three men were staring at him, and that his whole body was shaking.

“Are you alright?” His Highness asked, keeping his voice low. Patton nodded stiffly and fixed his attention back on their dinner. It was almost ready.

“Just – J-just – ah… Startled, I guess.” He stirred the pot mechanically; three times clockwise, three times counter-clockwise, and over and over again; internally begging his hands to stop shaking, and swallowed the lump in his throat harshly. “Worried Your Highness was offended…”

Even coming out of his mouth, the word sounded silly. Felt silly, even.

The Prince sat rather ungracefully on the rock next to him, the hand on Patton’s back moving to wrap around his shoulder. The contact was warm and steadying, despite a few minutes ago. Roman was a Prince, yes, but Roman would not hurt him.

“Were you worried I would hurt Logan?” Roman asked. His voice was still ever so soft, and there wasn't a hint of accusation to it, just concern. Patton shrugged, looking back down into the stewpot.

“I don't know…” he replied after a few beats of silence. “I don't think you ever would; I know you wouldn't! But you looked angry, and your eyes changed, and… I…” he huffed, frustrated and unable to string his thoughts together. He felt his face heat up, and his shoulders hunched slightly.

“I’m sorry I worried you, dove,” Roman murmured, and Patton’s heart beat just slightly faster at the nickname, although his cheeks still burned with shame. “I’m sure it’s hard to go against the instincts that protected you for so long.”

Patton shrugged at this, staring down into the pot and quietly continuing his stirring, feeling the Prince’s thumb rub over the curve of his shoulder, as their sides were pressed together, just slightly.

“It’s stupid,” he whispered finally.

“Not really,” Logan’s gentle voice floated around them as the scholar sat on Patton's other side. “The fears you have now are what kept you safe for twelve years of your life. The way that you watch others and keep notice of their faces and body language gave you a keen intuition of each situation you were in. You are a survivor.” Patton didn’t know what to say, effectively surrounded with comfort and still trying to stop his quivering. He shrugged again.

Logan’s slender fingers brushed Patton’s jaw, and gently took his chin to make Patton turn, locking eyes with the scholar. Crisp, midnight blue eyes fixed into his own.

“You. Are. A survivor.” The scholar repeated, softly spoken and yet the tone firm.

Patton felt tears rising up, but he was hesitantly smiling all the same. Still, he sniffled, and the smile wobbled.

“I just… I thought I was getting better…” his voice was watery, holding back tears. He gently pulled away from Logan’s hold to wipe at his eyes.

“You are.” Virgil's voice murmured in his ear, taking a place standing behind them and once again wrapping his arms around Patton.

And a blanket that he had apparently pulled from the carriage or the tent at some point.

“It’s only been three months. You were under that prick’s thumb for twelve years.” Virgil spoke quietly, and nuzzled his cheek against Patton’s, mirroring the soft way they had snuggled together as children. “You're allowed to still feel afraid. We’re here to support you, however you need, okay?”

While he calmed down, it seemed Roman had taken over their dinner; serving out portions and pulling apart a loaf of bread to compliment the meal. Logan had gone to fetch water for them all. The forest was growing dark around them, the crackling campfire casting its flickering glow around the four.

They ate, and chatted idly, as Patton watched the sunset shrink lower and fireflies flicker higher. The world grew softer, and warmer, somehow, as it became dark. Once again, Patton found himself enjoying the other three’s easy camaraderie; listening to them laugh and tell stories, watching them slowly slide closer and closer together.

It wasn't that Patton wasn't interested in a relationship, and they had certainly offered, many times, for him to join them at night. He knew it was largely just to sleep, as well. But he still felt a bit… bashful. Even though they'd seen every scar a hundred times over, he still hesitated when it came time to change for the evenings, or when Roman wanted to go swimming if they passed a river or lake. He felt the scars creeping up his back like fresh little snakes, imagining them shiny red and tender like the first day Virgil had changed his bandages.

And that didn't even begin to account for nightmares. They were more and more rare, as he moved farther and farther from Wardenthall Manor, but still there. And the risk was too high; waking one or all three in the middle of the night because he’d bitten Logan’s hand while holding it instead of his own to muffle a cry. It was easier to keep it all inside his own tent; his own bedroll, and his own mind.

Still, it didn't stop him from watching, and wanting, just a little. The light gentleness the three of them seemed to have; they way they fit together like pieces of a well-oiled puzzle box. He wondered if there was a space there; a place where they said he would fit just fine, but he wasn't certain. He had to keep looking; afraid the box would break if he wiggled it wrong.

He would figure it out. He just needed more time.

[banabiohazard]

(DDLC four hearts au, just Yuri but there's texts and stuffs from the others, road-trip, argument.)

*tw for homophobia, deadnaming, sexual topics, mentions of parental abuse and a pretty nasty argument.*

As Yuri sat with her head to the window in her mother's car, watching the scenery go by she silently wished she would have kept a book out of her luggage to have an excuse not to make small talk, she loved her mother, truly, but she was far from pleasant to be around, her blatant displays of bigotry almost cartoonish and overacted, she very obviously did it for a reaction, one that Yuri tried to give her as rarely as possible. Just as this thought finished crossing her mind it was immediately exemplified.

"Don't fall asleep on me yet dyke! We've got four more hours left I'll be bored to death!"

As Yuri gave a thumbs up to make it clear she was both awake and listening she scrunched her face and pulled her eyes shut, she really did hate how that had almost become a term of an endearment, her mother used it like any other would use 'hun' or something of the like. Desperate for a distraction she pulled her phone from her handbag between her feet to see if she could pull something up on Ao3 but was greeted to a notification on her lock screen, 'Sayori <3 sent you a message: Hope you have a good Christmas! Missing you already 😢'

Yuri smiled, a smile she needed. She shot back a reply and continued on her original mission, she had barely opened her browser when her mom spoke up again, "So!" She took a very long pause, "Any luck with uni applications yet?" Yuri took a deep breath, her interaction with her mother were usually brief and aggravating, but she always did get chatty on the way to see her father for the holidays, "Not yet." Her mother glanced at her a few times, "Oh well I do hope you get in soon! Like your little friend Monika!" Yuri gave a glare she didn't like to give from the side of her eyes, it was like reflecting her mother's own usual expression, "Er, uh partner, whatever you know what I meant. I always liked her best, Willow did I a good job on that one." Yuri breathed a silent laugh, she honestly still couldn't imagine Monika's aunt hanging around her mother, let alone being life long friends.

To her own surprise she found herself initiating conversation, "What was miss Willow like growing up anyway?" She asked while she tried to stretch her shoulder, "Oh!" Her mom stopped to stifle a laugh, "She's always been sweet as a peach," she stared at the windshield with what appeared to Yuri to be admiration sparkling in her eyes, "Blossomed like a flower as she aged, let me me tell you when we met she was an ugly duckling!" She laughed hard, "Fat little thing with the thickest glasses I ever saw!" Yuri sat in silence before peering down at her own stomach for a moment.

"Oh but not now, she is just beautiful." She stopped long enough for Yuri to get curious if that was all. "I'm sure were I a box munch I'd throw myself at her!" She laughed hysterically and Yuri rolled her eyes. "I remember," Yuri silently scolded herself for getting her started, "This one time Willow and I decided we were going to pull a prank on Agustuce," Yuri cut her off, "Who?" Her mom glanced at her with a look of disbelief, "Sayori's father! How do you not know his name??" Yuri just shrugged, she supposed it had never come up, "anyway," she went on, "He hadn't got all tubby and boring yet, he was a HOT ticket item let me tell you! But we never did see him in that light, he was just the third of 'The four' is what we called ourselves, our best friends, it was just us, Agustuce and Billy. I spit on the prick's name."

Yuri's eyes widened at that last part, she knew that name. Natsuki's 'Papa' she looked over at her mother, who wore an expression that almost read as grief. "You- you knew him?" She asked, shuttering at the years old memories of Natsuki finally opening up to her about the horrible abuse she faced at home. Sensing her daughter's discomfort she offered, "He wasn't always a monster. He was truly a nice young man before brother booze got a hand down his gullet. Don't get me wrong I'm very satisfied that he's rotting away behind iron, but I won't let that taint my memory of the man he was."

They sat in silence for a while, Yuri decided to break it, "The prank?" She encouraged, "Pardon? Oh, Oh! Yes, we tarred and feathered him with maple syrup and pillow feathers in front of a girl he was sweet on." She let out a small chuckle, "he wouldn't even look at us for a month." And they returned to silence.

It wasn't until around an hour later that they stopped for gas that they spoke. After Yuri had went inside the station and purchased herself a small drink and snack, she met her mother at the bench and table outside, "You ready to see grandpa?" She said after a long drag on her cigarette. Yuri nodded, it was true, she was quite excited to see him actually, despite his age he was far more tolerant and understanding than his daughter.

"Sure you wouldn't rather spend Christmas getting ran through by your harem?" She prodded, Yuri sighed hard as she set down her drink and gathered her courage. "Why do you feel the need to say things like that? What good does it do to treat me like you do?" Her mother opened her mouth to reply, but Yuri didn't let you, "I'm stuck with you for another few hours so I'm letting it out right now!" Her tone was louder and harder than she wanted, "What would you say if I said those things about your relationship with Father!" Her mother's face grew sour and she put out her cigarette. "Let me parrot your own words at you! Let's use the ones you used when I came home yesterday! Hey Mom!" She was getting louder, "You were gone a while! Get enough of that train Dad ran on you!" She was huffing hard now, grateful that the only person aside from them there was the clerk of the gas station.

She immediately shrunk into her hair, frantically running her fingers through long locks. Her Mother opened her mouth to a snarl but no words nor venom followed, she just stared, her expression softening. She offered no apologies but her eyes held remorse. She walked silently to the car and Yuri followed.

Yuri filled the silence by texting Natsuki.

Merry Christmas dear, I hope yours is going better than mine.

Awe shit what did she do

I lost my temper with her and said things I shouldn't have.

I may have gone too far.

Maybe that's exactly what the bitch needs

Also good job on finally growing your backbone back babe

SmackABitch Yuri is back???

I am serious, I brought up Father.

Oof

Maybe a poke in the sore spot will help her get her shit together idk I doubt you said anything too bad

Maybe.

"You're right." Yuri was shocked at the words she heard to her left. "What..?" She responded, "I said you were right damnit. I wouldn't like it if you said those things Mason, I didn't like it at all." She grimaced, "Frankly I'm shocked and appalled that you did. But I get your point. I will keep it to myself from now on." She paused before blinking hard, “Yuri. I meant Yuri.” Yuri was stunned, she could not remember the last time her mom was so, open. “Don’t take this as me surrendering my views I’m not! I’m just not going to insert my, clearly, unwanted opinion.” There it is. Yuri sighed, “Thanks Mom.” Yuri said as she looked away.

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Eric was was tired from the day say to working of his boring customer service job. Being yelled at day in and day out was not what he had planned on doing with the rest of his life. Now being at the age of 32 he began to thin about what he was actually achieving with his life. Was he ever going to amount to anything? Closing up the store for the night he began to walk home. On the side wall he seen a glimmer of a green light shinning that caught his attention. Bending down and picking it up seem that it was coming from something that was wrapped up in a crumbles piece of paper. Unfolding it he found a green stone with carvings on it.

It was like something that Eric had never seen before. Reading the paper it didn’t seem like it was in a language that he had ever heard of before. But the stone was nice so he pocketed the find and continued on his way home.

At home he took his shoes offs and stretched. it was a long and he was so glad to be home. Then he heard the normal banging on the roof of his apartment as the older lady upstairs demanded that his dog be quiet. Looking at the corner his dog was laying down in his cage and just simpered. “Rex have you been a good boy ?” Rex’s tail wagged. Eric loved the dog but he hated that he had to keep him in the crate all day. Even worse that he couldn’t manage to keep him quiet and he didn’t want to put a bark collar on him. Rex was let out and they played together. Eric turned the tv on and Rex cuddled up beside him. Eric forgot all about the stone until he went to sit down and he felt it poking at his side. Pulling the stone back out with the paper he tried to read the paper again. This time sounding the words out. Again nothing making any sense at all. The two of them continued to watch tv until REX and Eric both fell asleep on the couch.

That might Eric had a strange dream. Running around on all fours. Chasing things. Barking. Barking non stop and eating fry food. Nothing made sense.

The next morning—-when both Rex and eric woke up. , they found that they were looking at their own bodies.

Confused eric began to show “what is going on!” But nothing came out but barks as he began to plead. While eric struggled to form words with his new human tongue. The thumps from the old lady upstairs came and eric immediately shut up. Rex looked to the ceiling and growled. But catching his reflection in a mirror, he walked on all fours to it. And began to examine what he was looking at. Then out of no where there was a laugh! Eric began to back away slowly. Rex now in Eric’s body began to stand slowly as his new human body gave him the balance he needed. And then “Rex! Here boy!” His first command! He was learning fast from the human brain he was now inhabiting. Eric slowly walked to the dog that was now in control of his body. Rex picked him up, placing him in the cage. Eric was horror struck. Why was going on!

Rex disappeared into his bedroom and it wasn’t long before he came back out. Without a shirt on. Only shorts. “I’m going out for a run! I’m going to stretch my legs since I never get to do that!” He demanded as he laced up Eric’s wide smelly 16s that Rex always fought to chew on. And it wasn’t long before rex was out the door.

Hours seemed to pass while Eric was in the cage. Whimpering. Trying not to make a sound. Afraid of what was happening. And then he seen the green light from the stone catch his eye. This had to be what done this !! He tried to claw his way out of the cage but nothing worked. He heard keys jingle at rh door and soon Rex was back home. Stinky and sweaty. Smelling like he hadn’t showed in weeks. Coming into the living room he kicked his shoes off on and walked around the apartment sweating the place up. Making it smell like a locker room. “This body smells so good ! I don’t know why humans never do this more! I’m going to do this more !” Eric’s own human feet we’re leaving sweat marks on the floor as he walked. Now being in the dog body Eric’s nose was on fire with all the human stink he was smelling. He began to whimper without knowing it. “REX. while I was out I had a blast. I’m going to do that more often. I even found a cute golden retriever and took a picture with it. All the dogs loved me at the dog park. I can’t imagine why.” Eric was shocked. Why he being called Rex. Why was saying he was going to do this more often ??

Eric began to whimper again. “Oh you seem confused. I’ll explain. You read this paper. It was clear. Plain as day to me what it said. The language can only be understood by an animal. You said : I agree to rules of the stone. But what you didn’t notice was on the stone there inscription : use me for a chance at change to swap your life with another. Both forces touch at once will reverse this change.” He began to laugh. “Of course you can’t read animal language though. So now here we are.” Eric didn’t know what to do. He was locked in a cage now. Rex picked up the stone and walked over to him. Was he really going to set him free ?? Was he going to set him free with the agreement that they just swap bodies?

Right in front of Eric, Rex drop the stone on the floor and cracked it. Then using a wide size 16, finished crushing it into powder. “You’re a dog now REX. Enjoy your damn life”. And with that the glowing magic of the stone faded. And Eric and Rex were sealed in their new bodies.

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

Tamed Seas - Poseidon x Reader

(A/N)

This is the very first post I’m making on this equally new account and also the very first time I am ever using a second person POV for the reader. Let me know your thoughts!

The following story is just for shits and giggles. I do not own any of the characters, they are the property of Shinya Umemura and Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

Warning: Swearing from my disclaimer.

Tamed Seas

Poseidon x Reader

They were never allowed to stare.

If Poseidon never looked anyone in the eye, deeming them unworthy of even a simple gaze, then anyone other than himself were equally unworthy in looking at his wife.

Just before the meeting had started about a decision to be made on humanity’s fate, Poseidon had entered in his full regalia, his wife walking alongside him. Of course, such a prestigious couple deserved such a special entrance, as Hermes, per Zeus’ request too, played his violin most ceremoniously, a proud smirk on his face upon seeing the royal feet step perfectly on the red carpet he had immediately placed upon knowing of their arrival. Zeus’ older brother held a record of never attending meetings, much more any simple get-togethers unless they were of real utmost importance such as this one.

Shiva’s eyes grew at the sight of the couple. Even though Poseidon’s wife had originally been a mortal who had ascended to godhood, you were glowing and looked as ethereal as Aphrodite. Was he seeing things? He blinked and leaned forward in his seat. The last time he saw you was at the announcement of your wedding, then after the ceremony he never caught a glimpse of you ever again and only heard stories of your new and impressive conquests. Were you always this godlike?

As if reading his thoughts, he gulped upon finding himself at the receiving end of Poseidon’s cold and stoic stare. He shrugged his shoulders. Man, he had heard rumors of his sudden protectiveness towards his wife, but he never expected him to be this overly protective. He was merely trying to figure out if his wife was always glowing like this or not. Both figuratively and literally.

Alright, maybe he was checking you out a little bit.

Unlike the god of the seas, his wife greeted Zeus, and all the familiar gods with a warm smile. It had been ages since you had seen them all together, and the sight brought a sense of nostalgia to the days where you had first earned their favor, then their respect, and then their friendship. Although your story might not be as mighty (and as physically taxing) as Hercules’ was, you considered those ‘young’ days to also be one of your best apart from getting married to the man god who you had given your heart for and will continue to love and cherish for the rest of your life. Since you became Poseidon’s wife, you had not had much time to do leisure outside the palace, and correspondingly after heralding the title of ‘queen of the seas,’ you had taken it upon yourself to help your husband in matters concerning his own kingdom and the vast seas themselves.

“Master Zeus—” Zeus threw you a knowing look. “My apologies, Zeus, it’s such a pleasure to see you again!”

“Same here, little lady! Judging by the frequent calmness of the Atlantic Ocean, I trust you and my brother are faring along quite well?” The father of all gods chuckled, then wiggled his gray eyebrows. “Why, I must say, me and most of the other Olympians have been waiting for some new gods and goddesses to rule alongside us, if you know what I mean! Ehe he~”

Characteristic of your husband, Poseidon simply scoffed before muttering how gods such as themselves need not gossip. Blue eyes never left the Hindu god however, and unbeknownst to his wife, he lingered closer to you than usual whenever the both of you were in public.

This time, Shiva had had enough. He was sure he only looked at the direction of Poseidon’s wife only once, and admired you only once as well, yet he was being skewered by the god’s gaze for longer than what he had intentionally allowed. As if he had openly claimed you as his! He was the god of destruction for heaven’s sake, and would not allow this sacrilegious act, regardless of whoever he had to settle the score with. If it was with another prominent deity, then it would be a lot more fun. Golden eyes narrowed daringly, an equally challenging aura oozing from his form and startling the nearby gods.

“Lord Shiva, are you okay—”

“(Name). How many times do I have to repeat myself? You have no need to refer to other gods with honorifics.” Your attention whipped to your husband, who to your surprise, held a familiar, challenging stance. Unbeknownst to you but the other gods especially Aphrodite, Poseidon simply matched the challenge of the Hindu god. “You are the wife of the seas. All the other gods are beneath you, as they are beneath me as well.”

Upon hearing this, Shiva gripped his concrete armrests too greatly and it crumbled to dust under his strength. Pumped at where this interaction seemed to be heading−the thought of fighting, he stood up, arms on the ready to cause destruction. Despite being in the middle of the crowd and quite far away from the center of the stadium where the couple stood, he caught glimpse of the famous trident he would never be caught dead wielding. Now this was getting interesting!

“My rules are simple: you disrespect me, you die,” He pointed at Poseidon, which the latter found disgusting enough to scrunch up his nose.

“Should we put a stop to this, Lord Zeus?” Hermes asked behind a white gloved hand. Not exceeding any expectations, Zeus laughed after a stroke of his beard and clapped. He always was one to find entertainment in alike situations, especially after the fact that this was the only time, he and all the other gods had really felt Poseidon riled up. The expression on the god of the seas’ face remained calm but it was betrayed by the suffocating, dominating presence he emitted from where he stood.

“And after you die, your wife would become firsthand witness of realizing how your title betrays your strength,” Shiva stretched, but halfway through noticed Poseidon’s quick work of his trident. He took a stance and prepared for the parrying move.

Amidst the unexpected battle that was soon to happen, to everyone’s surprise, a whistling sound echoed along the tension-filled stadium. It was a tune most foreign to the gods, all except one. From your lips, a beautiful melody poured out as a soft gentle breeze seemed to have begun to blow. It was an old tune you had learned from one of your many lifetimes in the mortal world,

And the very same one you had sung to Poseidon that had sustained him in trying moments.

Poseidon came to a full stop, his muscles unmoving as he listened and slowly, put his trident down. What was he thinking? He should not have been swayed by a foolish taunt committed by a foolish god. He was perfection incarnate. His wife would never fall for a foolish antic, so why did he? Now he was both angry and confused with himself. How could he have allowed himself for even a moment, for others to see him angry over this? What even was this?

Without the need to look at you, relishing in your fine tunes reminded him of the initial catalyst to his reaction and an answer to his question. Whenever matters concerned his wife, his emotions, which he learned were out of his control, seemed to defy all rational logic, which, even at the very beginning of your courtship, bypassed his ego. Of course, despite these strong feelings, the one thing Poseidon had control over were his actions. Therefore, he had always had a grip on how he presented himself. Although it was still a slow progress to figuring out this foreign feeling with his wife, the only other being he deemed truly worthy to allow into his life, anyone else will never have a chance of being privy to this side of him−a sentiment that thankfully, his wife shared. Though he never admitted it, he was confused and left mulling over for some time when you had also told him before that you had meant a different thing.

“…Foolish. Gods have no need for wars, we are perfect beings ourselves. You are not the reason for my presence here and are not worthy of my time and attention.” Another long silence fell, finally broken by Poseidon, ignoring the mix of surprised and fearful stares. His legs started carrying him towards the direction of one of the high stage boxes in the stadium. “Come, (Name).”

Shiva, who had his fists out and ready to fight, blinked twice in confusion before grunting, scratching the back of his ear violently in frustration. “You Greek gods have always been boring! And here I thought I’d finally be able to cause some destruction again, this time in Valhalla…”

Other than the Hindu god himself, none would ever understand if he had riled up the Greek god on purpose for the sake of his own entertainment or, perhaps, for something more personal. Zeus, meanwhile, followed the sight of his older brother walking quietly alongside his wife. Aphrodite nodded her head in his direction, affirming his suspicions. He would never fully understand the concept of love, but hey, he did get the message that all would be damned if so much as a single hair went missing on (Name)’s hair. And it seems he was not alone in this thought, as despite Shiva’s aggressive taunting, he also managed to peak into the gravity of the god of seas’ feelings towards his wife.

After Shiva had been calmed down and more gods piled in along with the Valkyries, Zeus set his meeting in motion. From the stands, Poseidon and his wife occupied the two seats that closely resembled their thrones. Eagerly sitting beside the god, (Name) grinned. Every day she had to sit close to her husband or even at times on his lap, she always felt like her body fit snugly against his.

Blue eyes stared uninterested at the spectacle.

“Dearest?” Poseidon turned his head and met your gaze. Any dark smudges had disappeared beneath his eyes, and his mouth that was carved into a seemingly permanent frown softened. His lips went from a thin line to a gentle curve.

“Thank you.”

No more words needed to be said. Poseidon knew what you were thanking him for, and he responded by closing his eyes as though he was swallowing every ounce of serenity that emitted from you. And the taste was sweet…

Above the angry retaliation of the gods regarding the verdict of Ragnarok, Poseidon enjoyed an elusive peace. Even if it was just a simple moment like this, he set his features in calm lines and his shoulders sank−a truly rare sight, a special secret between himself and his wife.

“I don’t care about this. I am eager to go home.” Poseidon whispered under his breath.

A chuckle left his wife’s lips. “We’re going home soon, don’t fret.”

[traekenimagines]

Hunting Season, Unseen: A Theo Raeken Imagine

So below the cut, there will some parts of Hunting Season that didn’t quite make it to full imagines. There will be a heading above each snippet so you can skip past anything you don’t want to read, but to warn you guys, I’m just going to provide a list here of what to expect:

Mutual Masturbation, Tit-fucking, Over-stimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Come-play, Anal/Ass-play, Mutual Oral Giving and Receiving/Mouth-fucking,Thigh-riding, and some other bog-standard smutty stuff. 

Hope this is okay for you lovelies, and enjoy x 

Mutual Masturbation

Y/N couldn’t keep her eyes off Theo’s hand pumping at his cock, couldn’t stop listening to the moans that escaped his mouth. The sight only spurred her on as she curled her fingers inside her core, picturing it was him doing this to her as her teeth found her bottom lip. “Fuck Theo, I’m going to come.”

She could see in his eyes that he wasn’t far off, his movements speeding up as he worked at himself. There was a knot building in her stomach, and she slid her fingers out of her core as it unravelled, letting the essence of her release drip down her legs. 

At the sight of her, Theo swore, growling as his cock twitched and he came in his hand. Both were breathless, both aroused only by the sight of the other coming undone, fucking themselves with as much vigour as they would had they been doing those things to each other. 

Y/N lay back on the bed and listened to the sound of Theo’s footsteps as he made his way over to her. She spread her legs, eyes closed in bliss as she felt his cock at her entrance. 

Tit-Fucking

Y/N circled her nipples with her thumbs as she held them against Theo’s cock, the chimera fucking the valley between her breasts as if it were her core. She was wet, soaked at her core at the image before her, and she couldn’t wait until that cock was buried deep inside of her. But she could feel the tip of Theo’s cock against her neck as he fucked her tits, her nipples hardening with each hiss of breath he let escape. 

“Are you going to come, baby? Are you going to come all over my tits?” She could feel him hardening, wanted him to have his release anywhere he liked. “Come all over me baby.”

Theo’s cock slipped from between Y/N’s breasts, his hand wrapping around it before he pumped it a few times. Y/N giggled as his release landed on her breasts, the warmth of it familiar. Her nipples were still hard, something Theo had clearly noted as he leaned down, mouth enveloping each as he cleaned her with his tongue. Y/N moaned, a sound that only intensified when Theo kissed her, and she could taste him on her tongue. 

She had done that to him, and it was power unlike anything she had ever felt. 

Over-Stimulation

“You’re so fucking sensitive, princess.” 

If Y/N had been able to talk, she would have told Theo that the reason she was so sensitive was because of him. She’d had his fingers inside of her, his tongue, every toy they owned, some she didn’t even remember buying. And he hadn’t let her come. 

She knew all it would take was for him to thrust his cock into her and she would explode. It was bad enough trying to hold it in now as his fingers brushed over her tender folds, her core pulsing with the need to come. But as it was, she couldn’t talk, so just whined, bucking her hips against his hands. 

“So fucking sensitive.” Theo chuckled. He shifted, positioning his cock at her entrance. Y/N opened her legs wider, and Theo seized an opportunity. “Tell me how much you need it, Y/N. Beg for it.”

“Please, Theo.” She shifted. “Just give it to me. Just fuck me. I’m so fucking sensitive, and I need your fucking cock inside of me.”

When the tip of Theo’s cock entered her, Y/N lost the ability to breathe. She could feel her wetness growing, could feel the product of an early release pulse from her core. She arched her back as he entered her to the hilt, screaming when she finally let go. 

Multiple Orgasms

“That’s it, baby. Just let go.” Theo was on his knees, Y/N on his lap, slowly moving herself up and down his cock. He had already come inside of her, his hand on the small of her back, his lips on her neck. He could feel her hands on the back of his neck, and he leaned up and kissed her as she continued to move. 

She had followed not long after her, and Theo had expected her to climb off him. But she had stayed, continuing to move. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he came again too, but he didn’t care. Not when all he wanted was for Y/N to find her satisfaction. 

“Need more of you,” she mumbled against his lips. “Need your cock in me all the time.”

“I know, baby, I know.” Theo sucked on her tongue, and felt Y/N’s grip on the back of his neck tighten. “Come on, Y/N. It’s okay.” She clenched around him, head thrown back as she came over him again. And still she continued to move. 

“Are you - are you going to come again?” She asked him, words not coming too easily. “I want you to come again.” She sped up in her movements, rotating her hips around him. Theo felt himself tense. 

“I’m coming again, baby.” His release was accompanied by a sloppy kiss, before he mouthed at Y/N’s cheek, tasting the sweat that had gathered on her skin. He looked up at her, and she was smiling. “How was that?”

“So,” she moaned between words, the sign of another release building, “so good. You’re so good.”

“And so are you, baby. So are you.”

Come-Play

Y/N stood, and Theo smirked as he saw how shaky she was. He had done that to her, had fucked her hard just like last time. He had promised her that she wouldn’t be able to walk, that she would stink of him and would have a hard time hiding it from her friends. 

He could see his come dripping down her legs, expecting her to wipe it away, expecting her to throw a hateful glare at him as she had the last time. But instead, it was if she hadn’t even noticed it, noticed him, and it bugged him. So he climbed across the bed, and wrapped an arm around her waist. 

She tensed at his touch, at the two fingers that slid up the inside of her thigh. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” Theo’s teeth caught her earlobe as he trailed his fingers through the line of his come, rubbing it back into her core. She leaned back into him, moaning. “Does that feel good, Y/N? Having my come in you? Taste it, taste my come and yours together.”

Y/N took his two fingers into her mouth, and Theo almost lost his nerve. Before he showed any sign of weakness, he removed his fingers, letting Y/N speak. “Tastes so good. I love your come, Theo. I want it all over me.”

Theo smirked. “Well, that can be arranged.”

Anal/Ass-Play

Y/N was on all fours, waiting eagerly for whatever Theo was going to do. She moaned as he spread her ass cheeks, muttering to her about all the plans he had for her. She whined when, without warning, he thrust her finger into her asshole, curling it inside of her. “God, this is tight, Y/N. I think we might have to loosen this up a little.”

He replaced his finger with his tongue, swirling it around. Y/N could feel the wetness from her core growing, knowing that it would have to wait. Theo would fuck her somewhere else first, and she looked forward to it. She pressed her ass against his face as Theo continued to eat at her hole, his mouth enveloping over it. She felt desperate for him, for this something new, to arrive, and let out a squeal as Theo drew his face back from her. 

“You ready for this baby?” He placed one hand on the small of her back, the other positioning his cock at the entrance of her ass. The tip brushed her ever so slightly, and Y/N let out a breathy yes. 

Her eyes watered when Theo entered her. He was so big, and she so tight. But as Theo stretched her out, she found herself finding the pleasure beyond the pain, and it wasn’t long before she was screaming in delight. 

“I’m going to come Y/N, I’m going to come in your ass.” Gone was Theo’s tenderness, his concern. His animalistic desire was only present and Y/N couldn’t contain her glee when she felt his release in her. When it was over, Theo rested his head against the small of her back, pressing a kiss against a tender ass cheek. 

Mutual Oral Giving and Receiving/Mouth-Fucking

Y/N was so peaceful when she slept, Theo decided. But he was bored, and he wanted her awake. It was only natural then, that he lay on his side, head at her legs. He move them apart gently, revealing her bare core to him. She shifted slightly as he licked up the centre of her folds, and he smirked against her when she moaned. 

She was waking up, slowly, and in the best possible way. Theo set to work, properly this time. 

He lapped at her core, taking her clit into his mouth and rolling it between his tongue. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see movement, but didn’t acknowledge Y/N yet. He would do so with arrogance when she came, he would do so - oh. 

Y/N was certainly awake. Theo knew that much with his cock in her mouth. With each bob of her head as she took him whole, Theo pushed his tongue in and out of her core, her wetness making his erection grow. 

He could feel himself on the edge of release, could feel that Y/N was there too. The peaceful morning atmosphere was soon shattered by the orgasmic cries of the two, each with their lips coated in the essence of the other. Theo lifted his head, looked at Y/N with her head still by his cock. She kissed the tip of it. “Good morning.”

Thigh-Riding

The feel of Theo’s jeans beneath her core was too much for Y/N. He had turned down sex, claiming that he was too busy, so she had taken things into her own hands, not giving him the chance to complain when she straddled his leg, naked, in the hope that he would fuck her. 

Instead, he had told her to get herself off, so she chose to do exactly that. 

As she moved against him, she could see the outline of Theo’s erection against the material. But he was still choosing to ignore her, pretending as if she wasn’t even there. So she moaned louder as she rode his thigh, moving faster, hand accidentally brushing his cock. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Theo’s hands flew to his jeans, and Y/N smirked as he unbuttoned them and pulled his cock out. She got the hint, moving from his thigh, denim coated in her essence and sunk onto him. 

Now this, this was what she wanted. And as Theo fucked her, she knew it was worth the wait. 

And Finally...

Theo’s lips were at Y/N’s cheek, his hand on her neck. They were both on their knees, and Y/N wrapped her hand around to tangle in Theo’s hair as he thrust into her. Neither could speak, all dirty talk having fled from their minds. 

It had been a long time since they had been together like this, Theo having come back from the dead only recently. It had taken a matter of moments to rid each other of clothing, to tumble back into bed, each of their movements meaning the same thing. I love you. I love you. I love you. 

Y/N had forgotten what it felt like to be with Theo, to have his cock buried inside her, stretching her out, making her feel a release unlike any other. She moaned as he thrust into her from behind, his grip on her neck tightening ever so slightly. Theo regained his breath just so to talk to her, his lips against her cheek. “Does that feel good, princess? I missed you so much, Y/N.”

“So good, don’t ever leave me again.” 

Theo’s cock tensed inside of her, and Y/N joined him as the two reached their satisfaction. 

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of doing so. I love you, Y/N.”

Hunting Season Masterlist

Masterlist

[xoxo-teddybear]

The Silent Treatment - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: slight angst, slice of life, crack(ish?), fluff, cursing

Summary: Bakugou is very much....an asshole. A shithead. A professional dick if you will. And Y/N, being his girlfriend is very much aware of that. So when he takes it too far, she has to make sure he learns his lesson.

A/N: just a quick lil cute thing, totally not spelled check

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“Hey babe!” Bakugou said as he walked into the living room to find his girlfriend reading a book. He plopped down next to her and just relaxed in the feeling of the soft cushion. The little shit felt like messing with his girlfriend today.

Y/N had already been having a pissy day. After arguing with her boss, forgetting a few items back at the grocery store, and losing her new pair of headphones, she just wanted some peace with her cup of tea and a good book. Now, she has her loving boyfriend to comfort her as well. This day was surely taking a turn...right?

“Hi love, need something?” You asked calmly with the most melodic voice. Your voice. His favorite sound in the world. The sound of you just put a smile on his face which is a huge oxymoron to what this motherfucker is about to say.

“Nah, just wanted to talk to my princess,” he said while resting his head on your stomach, resting in between your legs and wrapping his arms around your waist. You awed at him but didn’t notice his little devil smile. “I had the best dream last night.”

“About what Suki?” You asked while petting his soft hair.

“You.”

“Awweee,”

“Yeahhh. You went mute for the day. Fucking paradise.” Once the words left his mouth you stilled your actions and felt your eye twitch in annoyance. Your hand on his head stilled and slightly tugged at it. In any other circumstance, Bakugou would’ve groaned at the tug (kinky bastard) but he was too busy chuckling into your tummy.

You exhaled roughly through your nose and pushed Bakugou off of you in a very polite way. He rolled onto his back onto the actual couch and watched as you crossed your legs, close your book, and pick up your tea mug.

“Hmph!” Was all that you “said” as you tilted your nose to the air and walked away. Bakugou just snickered as you left. He thought it was adorable when you were mad over tiny inconveniences and thought it was hot as fuck when you were yelling at him, but today, you won’t be doing neither.

—

About 30 minutes had passed and Bakugou had awoken from his nap on the couch. He fell asleep after you walked away but now missed your touch. He sat up, stretched, and went to find you. He walked around the house until he spotted you relaxing in the jacuzzi in the backyard. He grinned at your relaxed look and went to change.

A few minutes later Bakugou had came out to join you in the hot tub. Your eyes were shut as you relaxed in the bubbling water, and so Bakugou was able to get in without being seen. He relaxed into the water as he scooted closer to you, eventually grabbing a hold of your waist.

“Hi baby,” he said as he attempted to place you in his lap but you looked at him with an unimpressed look as you scooted away. “Y/N?”

You grabbed your towel and stepped out of the tub. You wrapped yourself in the cloth as you walked back into the house, completely ignoring Bakugou as he spoke to you.

“Wha- you’re just gonna leave? I just got in with you,” he pouted. He opted to stay in the nice warm water for a bit but once you closed the door he groaned and sunk deeper into the water. He let the water go just above his mouth and right below his nose as he blew bubbles into the tub out of annoyance.

‘The fuck is up with her?’ He thought to himself.

—

Time passed and Bakugou came out the tub. He went back to his room to change into some gray sweats and a black long sleeve (and yes he pulled the sleeves up a bit because he knew you found it attractive and if y’all don’t, well I do).

He walked into the kitchen and spotted you seemingly eating dinner. He noticed a plate for him but kind of frowned at the fact that you didn’t wait for him. He saw you placed the plate on the other side of the island, far away from you, and so he pulled the plate over and took the seat next to you.

“Hey, princess? You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” He asked but you said nothing as you just ate in silence. “Silent treatment huh?” No words.

“Baby, is this about what I said? I was only kidding Y/N,” he said as he tried to wrap his arm around your waist but you pushed it off and he groaned. “Fine. Be that way, you’ll get over it. Come talk to me when you’re done acting like a brat.”

Bakugou just grunted as he ate his dinner in silence right next to you. You finished before him and walked away after you washed your dish and this time it was Bakugou who snubbed his nose in the air at you. If it was the silent treatment that you were gonna give then it was the silent treatment that you were gonna get....sorta.

—

“BABYYYY PLEASSEEEEE!!” He whined while poking at your leg. You were currently in your home office typing away at your computer doing work when Bakugou came in about 25 minutes after he finished his dinner. He couldn’t help himself. He missed you.

You continued to ignore Bakugou as he poked and shook you for attention. You gave him nothing all day and he was getting close to his limit. Please believe he wasn’t getting shit after that brat comment.

“Princessss, c’mon! It was a joke baby, let’s go to sleep, yeah?” He begged. You looked at him with a bored expression and saw his smile as you finally gave him something. You turned back to face your computer and his smile dropped again and was replaced with a scowl. “Y/N, I was just messing with you. I love the sound of your voice and I love you. So quit ignoring me and come give me love!” He demanded.

When he noticed you weren’t budging, he stood from his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose as he mentally counted.

‘1....2...3,’

He gave in and forcefully turned your chair and threw you over his shoulder. You didn’t speak to him but you squirmed and shook trying to get out of his grasp.

“Aye, aye,” he smacked your ass to get you to stop, “quit it. I’m tired, and I want sleep, and we both know I don’t sleep unless my teddy bear is with me, so shush.”

You looked at him when he told you to “shush.” As if you hadn’t been doing that all day. He just squinted his eyes as he knew what you were thinking. “You know what I mean shitty woman!”

Bakugou stormed into your shared bedroom and dropped you onto the mattress. You didn’t even try to run away. You had decided that, yes, you are indeed tired but you refused to give a certain blonde any attention. You stretched on the bed and Bakugou was in awe of your cute state but quickly snapped out of his trance when you turned on your side and gave him your back.

Bakugou got into bed along side you and scooted closer. He pressed himself against your back but once he made contact, you scooted farther away. And so, he scooted himself closer again but just like before, you scooted away. This went on about 2 more times before you scooted and fell off the bed.

“Y/N? You okay, love?” He asked as he looked down at you. You popped up from the floor, on your knees and grumbled to yourself as you vented quietly. You stood up and continued ranting as you tried to walk away to sleep on the couch but before you could get away from the king sized bed, Bakugou grabbed your wrist and pulled you on top of him. “Ignore me all you want but I’m not sleeping without my cuddles.”

You sighed as you gave in. You allowed him to hold you but you refused to speak. Bakugou rubbed circles onto your back as he inhaled your scent but he missed the sound of your voice. The sweet sound that was something similar to honey.

“Baby...I’m sorry.”

You looked at him when he apologized and raised your brow. A verbal, genuine, apology from Katsuki Bakugou? This you’ve gotta see.

“I know I shouldn’t have said that to you and even if I was only kidding......it was pretty fucking mean. ..But I hope you know I love the sound of your damn voice. I love you, dumbass. And I would never ask you to stay silent because....*sigh* ‘cuz your voice, you talking to me, you being with me, and just you in general keeps me sane. So I’m sorry. Okay? And I love you..” he said with a growing blush as he stared at you with a flustered face.

You smiled and went up to peck his lips and then give him a loving kiss. He jumped at the sudden contact but quickly melted into the kiss. He smiled as he finally got to revel in the sweet intimate moments like this. The sweet moments he’s been missing all day.

“I love you too Suki.” Oh how he craved to hear your voice. He loved the sweet sound and missed your loving tone. He pulled you in closer and just held you tight. He doesn’t plan on letting go.

“I’m so sorry. I will never make you upset like that ever again.” He bargained but you only shook your head.

“Katsuki, I was just messing with you today. I had an annoying day and that little joke just sent me over the edge but you know I never take your mean quips to heart. You’re rough around the edges but that’s just who you are and I don’t mind it. I love everything about you, even if you’re a jerk sometimes,” you teased and flicked at his nose. You giggled as he whined and tried to soothe the spot you hit. “You don’t have to censor yourself around me. Okay?”

Bakugou smiled even more. He loves you so damn much. Not only did you know he was just a little abrasive, but you accepted him for all his brunt behavior. You truly did love him. “Thanks princess,”

He sealed the deal with a sweet kiss to your temple as you giggled at the warm feeling of his soft lips. He pulled you down to his chest as you both cuddled up for the night. You sleeping is the only time Bakugou will ever be okay with you being silent. But never again will he ever allow himself to get the silent treatment.

A/N: Guys, I’m so sorry. I’ve been in such a slump and I feel like im reaching a writers block. It’s not even like I don’t have any ideas, I do! And I even have multiple unfinished pieces in my drafts but I just don’t have any motivation to finish :( sorry Cubs, don’t worry, I’ll try my best to finish them as quick as I can. Idk, should I take a break?

I’m already in the middle of a story and I don’t wanna leave those who are reading on a cliffhanger.

[hyuckssunchip]

[2:21 am]

Pairings: Haechan x Reader

Words: 2K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), SMUT, male receiving

Synopsis:

gamer boyfriend drabble

hyuck asks you for a little late night favor in return for what you want, any time, anywhere. you take this to your advantage to have a little fun while he’s gaming. 

smut is after the keep reading

You felt your boyfriend grip your hips and drag you closer to him. Your eyes lifted slowly, barely peeking under the heavy lids, but you were met with darkness. Only the soft glow of the analog clock let you know that it was four in the morning.

“Hyuck, stop it.” You mumbled out, fidgeting away from him. But he held his grip, and held you taut against his chest, forcing you to still.

He whined in your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder. You pushed your face into your pillow trying to find the sleep that was now slipping away.

But Haechan was relentless. His hips ground against your ass, desperately trying to seek relief. He was hard against your backside, and you felt his soft pants fall on your ears.

“Stop it.” You half heartedly push him away, just swatting at his hands. “I need to sleep, you know I’ve got a big test tomorrow.” Well tomorrow being today, but you were too tired to care.

He ignored your words, landing soft whispers of kisses on your neck, finding your tender spot. You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh at the feeling, but as soon as they came they were gone. 

His lips didn’t leave your skin for a moment, however, they became ravenous. He left wet open mouthed kisses along your neck, using his fingers to pull down your shirt for access to your collarbone. You involuntarily complied, stretching your neck for easier access. 

His lower half didn’t slow at the new movement, still pushing roughly against you.

Although you shook your head, you couldn’t seem to say the words you needed to.

“Please.” He moans into your ear, legs tangling in your own. “I can’t stand it any more.”

You huffed, reluctantly pulling away from him, but his arms locked tightly around you.

“I tried to hold myself back, I really did. But I can’t.” He leaned in to lick a stripe on your neck, stopping only to softly tug on your ear between his teeth.

“Please, let me fuck you.” He practically begs you, hands traveling along your body. 

“Hyuck. It’s four in the morning.” You tried to reason with him, words still slurred from sleep.

“I’ll let you do it to me any time, anywhere.” He promised, trying to entice you into giving him his way.

You scoff at the proposition. “You always want to fuck though, how does that help me?”

He didn’t have an argument, instead opting for silence, and a couple more kisses creeping dangerously towards your breasts. 

“Fine, but a deal’s a deal. Don’t think I’ll forget.” You mumble in defeat, to which his body immediately responds. 

You found yourself pantiless in seconds, his hand trancing down your navel to reach your mound. His fingers got busy, dancing over your clit in order to get you ready. You didn’t have much time to focus on that, as he leaned over and brought your mouth against his, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth when you gasped at the contact.

He dipped the tip of his middle finger into your folds, slowly rubbing the walls of your hole, already dripping with anticipation. He forwent his usual cocky comment about you being wet for him so fast, and instead chose to line himself up. 

His pants had disappeared sometime between getting you ready and the intense make out session. He gripped his hand around your inner thigh, pulling it up to give him better access, and throwing it over his leg. 

Slowly he sank into your pussy, your walls stretching at the girth of his cock. You moaned at the feeling, making him grip your waist, proud at your reaction. You rolled your head back, against his chest as he bottomed out. Just seconds later he began to speed up, thrusting deep inside you. You weren’t used to this angle, and it had you feeling him in places you had never had him before. 

His hands continued wandering, gripping any part of your skin that he could, ultimately landing on your breast, which he so deeply loved. He tweaked a hardened nub, causing you to tighten your stomach in response.

His pants began to quicken at the way you clenched around him moaning deliciously in your ear.

“Fucking hell, do that again would you?”

You complied, not even thinking twice about the request. At the second feeling of your core tightening around his length, his hips stuttered.

“Shit, I’m close.” He moaned out, and you marveled at the sound.

He let go of your breast and chose to find your clit once again. He began rubbing you off, trying to get you to your high at the same time as him.

“Shit. Hyuck, I’m getting close.” You panted, gasping at the familiar churning in your stomach. 

“Alright baby, just a little more.” He begged, increasing his speed in both his hips and his fingers. “Come with me.”

You let go of the tension that was building up, and Haechan muffled your moans with open mouthed kisses.

After you both came down from your highs, the dark room was left with slowing pants and the soft glow of the clock.

Heachan slipped out of you crawling out of bed to grab a wet rag. When he returned, he patted you down the best he could and turned you to face him, pulling you snug against him.

“Thank you.” He whispered, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. 

But you were already consumed by sleep.

You were laying on your boyfriend’s bed bored out of your mind. For the past forty-five minutes he had told you that ‘this was the last game’. 

All attempts of getting his attention were utter failures, as they often were when trying to pull him away from his precious game.

You rolled onto your side, staring at the back of his head in frustration, when you were hit by the sudden realization of how to get his attention. 

You decided that this was the time to take him up on his offer. Although you enjoyed that mid-night pleasure, it was time for you to take revenge on him.  

And you were almost certain that he would enjoy this as much as you would.

For a few moments you simply stood behind his gaming chair, hands gripping slightly on the soft material of the chair. You leaned down and left a small trail of kisses on his neck, rubbing your hands up and down his chest from behind.

For a moment he looked startled at your sudden show of affection, but he quickly pushed it away. “Not right now, give me ten minutes baby.”

You smirked to yourself, already having predicted his response. With your lips inches from his ear you whispered as tantalizing as you could, “Did you forget your little promise?”

He pauses, fingers tensed over his mouse while staring at the screen. You noticed the way that he gulped slightly, and his eyes shook, but you took the lack of protest as his silent agreement.

You snuck under his arms, choosing to straddle him with your arms wrapped around his neck. You were kind enough to move your head out of the way, letting him still have a clear view of his screen. Instead you continued with the kisses, which became louder and more erotic as you worked your way towards his sweet spot under his ear. 

Your head was so close to his headphones that you could hear the faint gunshots and the yells of his teammates, and you decided that you would make it your mission to give them a little show.

Your kisses got even sloppier and louder, the sucking noises became more lewd. Haechan had the decency to switch it onto mute for a moment and pulled away the best he could to give you a look, to which you returned with your own. 

‘A deal’s a deal.’ You mouthed tauntingly at him. You admired the way that his Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, then smiled proudly at the newly formed marks that adorned his neck. You softly traced a hickey with your finger with delight.

But that wasn’t enough, you ground yourself into his lap, causing him to let out an unwilling moan. You continued this as you connected your lips with him, sucking him into a very deep make out session, while he was still very desperately trying to keep up with his game.

You bit his lip, asking for entrance, and to your surprise he immediately abided. You laced your fingers into his already messy hair, gripping tightly at the roots. He loved the way you would tug at it, and it never failed to elicit moans from him, this time was no different. You pulled back for air, staring at his now swollen and puffy lips, that made them more irresistible than normal.

Before you could return to them you hear the loud shouts from his headphones. You found it difficult not to giggle at the way his teammates were yelling at him. He wasn’t one to back down easily, defending himself at the accusations that his gaming skills were in fact trash.

But just because you were pleased with the reaction didn’t mean that you were satisfied. You scooted back slightly, revealing the now very hard member that you were steadily grinding on moments ago. It was quite easy to slip his member out of his pants, almost as if it was trying to escape. You pumped him a couple of times, and he hissed at the sudden contact. You slid off his lap, kneeling in front of him, pushing his knees away so you could be situated between his legs.

You licked a long stripe up his dick, leaving a kitten lick at his sensitive tip. His hips lifted at the sensation, but you pushed them back down. A few more times you teased him, before you wrapped your lips around his member, going as deep as you could. You continued to bob your head, occasionally adding a soft hum which had him jolting at the vibrations.

The lewd sounds were getting louder and faster, but his grunts and moans soon took over the room. You gave one last push, deep throating him so that your nose was unbelievably close to his abdomen. At this he let go of his mouse and tangled his hands in your hair, holding you in that position as long as he could.

“Fuck.” He choked out, moaning at the feeling. “Shit Y/N you’re so deep.”

You pulled back with a pop, wiping the saliva off your chin. You stood, shimmying your pants and panties off, giving yourself a quick rub, which was unnecessary because you were so turned on from the whole situation you didn’t need to be any wetter. 

He winced at the loud yell from his headphones, no doubt his teammates complaining about his now dead player, and the fact that he hadn’t muted himself again.

“For fuck’s sake Haechan, can you fuck your girl some other time? Or at least mute the goddamn thing!”

“Shut up your just pissed cause I have a girlfriend to fuck!” He shouted back, tugging the headphones off and tossing them aside. 

You grinned, sinking yourself onto you hard on. You sighed at the feeling of being full as he failed to constrain himself. You didn’t have the chance to ride him the way you had planned as his hands grabbed your ass, thrusting up into you aggressively. 

He latched his mouth on to your neck, returning the favor of the many hickeys you had just left on his. You threw your head back, bouncing incredibly fast on his lap, the quick motions had you grunting at the impact.

You struggled to regain your breath as he continued to ram up into you, going deeper than you thought was possible in this position. He quickened his pace, as the both of your reached your highs, cumming together at the feeling.

You sat still on his twitching cock, the feeling of his cum trying to escape sent butterflies in your stomach. You sighed into his neck, regaining your breath in this comfortable position.

“Fuck we should do this more often.” He mumbled out.

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