#i love how good they look in long hair in a braid but it just wasn't as good when I did it

[nekomuse]

So I just had an Idea...

I love it when Fright Knight gets pulled in as Danny's guardian.

So imagine, if you will, Danny leaves for Gotham bc of college, but his parents worry over him going alone. Jazz is in an Ivy league college so she can't go with him, Sam and Tucker are doing their own things at different colleges.

But they really can't let their son go alone, he may be the ghost king and he may be really strong but that is their baby! Cue Jack asking Fright Knight to go with his son so he has some protection in crime capital. Amity Park barely has human crime after all, what would their poor boy do? He only knows how to fight ghosts, Jack is speaking from expierence here, humans are oh so fragile.

Thus, Danny finds himself saddled with a babysitter for college, reluctantly taking the ghost with him under the condition that he tries to look human.

Fright Knight acquiesces. Taking off his armor he reveals a tall man with dark grey skin and glowing purple eyes, long black hair braided back in a longsleeve shirt and pants.

He's still giving major scary vibes.

Well, it's not getting better so, eh.

Now Danny makes friends in college, he eventually gets asked out on a date by one of the batboys ( I personally hc Damian bc it would be funny). So Danny is getting picked up, only he's not the one opening the door, it's Fright Knight. Tall, intimidating-looking and scary AF vibes Fright Knight.

It doesn't matter how brave you are, or how well your immunity to scare gas is, something about the glowing purple eyes glowering down at you is scary.

And then arrives Danny, sunshine personified, waving off Fright Knight while his date wants to get the hell out of dodge while the scary guardian of his date glares like he tries to set them on fire!

Meanwhile Fright Knight is trying to gauge if this human is good enough for his king, he only deserves the best! And the kings father did tell him how fragile humans were... maybe he should send a letter to Frostbite and ask for some help.

[wolfish-trickster]

Red eyes seeing green

Astarion x f!reader/Tav

Word count: 3.8K

Summary: A long time ago you've told Astarion what your ideal type is, which is an exact opposite of him. Since then he has won your heart and accidentally you've won his. All would be well if it wasn't for Halsin, a literal embodiment of all physical traits you like on men, joining your group.

Warnings: angst if you squint, pure fluff

A/N: i know the devs confirmed he's fine with you (tav) and Halsin but i really wanted to see him jealous. Also the plot may be all over the place since I took a break from it and finished it like three weeks later😅

Astarion POV

It's been couple of weeks since Astarion's been infected with a tadpole. A nuisance really, until he felt sun rays on his face for the first time in centuries. Only then did he see it as a blessing in disguise. Even more so after he has met you and you've recruited him into your little "fellowship".

In the begining he couldn't care less about anyone. They either distrussted him (understandably after threateing one of them with a dagger on their first meeting), ignored him or down right hated him. It took a while for them to simple be 'meh' about him, a welcome change. Afterwards he started observing everyone, looking for the leader. Karlach was his first guess. Strong, ferocious, not to mention the contrast with her personality. His second guess was Gale. Only because he overheard him mention how a certain event happened before Karlach joined. He seemed to be in the group the longest. His guess was only logical.

But not in a million years would he guess you as a leader. Kind, loving, certainly weak looking. If you told him birds braid your hair every morning he wouldn't even question you. And yet you were the head of this little group of weirdos.

Plan was simple. Seduce you. Make your heart beat only for him. Secure a safe existence by your love-blind self. Profit.

Well, almost.

Despite your sweet and almost innocent personality he had a hard time seducing you. It was fine, Astarion liked a good challenge and he has had harder nuts to crack before.

"You can recite flirty lines all night Astarion, none of them will work," you giggled.

"Oh really," he smirked. "How can you be so sure when I haven't even used my best lines yet?"

"It's not about what you say, but how you look like," you smiled sweetly at him, almost mocking him. "You may not have a physical type but most people still do."

Ah, an appearance. One of his weaknesses. He knew his eyes were red, and when his hair grew long enough to see he could observe snowy white locks. His face must've been attractive as well. Based on how successful he was when fulfilling Cazador's orders. Same could be said about his toned body.

"Are you suggesting my dashing self isn't to your taste?" He said half teasingly with his usual bravado. How could anyone look at him and turn him down?

"Exactly," you answered.

Oh. That's how.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, you look good, but," you looked to the side, a slight blush covering your pointy ears.

"If only you had dark hair, long enough to braid. I always loved men with long luscious hair. Bonus points if they style it half up half down. There's just something about that hairstyle," you bit your lower lip.

"But they had to be clean shaved. My friends used to tease me for being a hypocrite," you giggled, lost in memories of your youth. "I just don't want to feel like i'm kissing a hedgehog, you know? And scars," you sighed dreamily, "I once knew this one stable boy when I was just entering my teenagehood. He had this huge scar across his nose and cheek. From a stalion that kicked him. He looked so good," you almost moaned when memories of your first ever crush rushed through your mind.

Astarion listened to your ramblings and for some reason started to feel... uneasy? Anxious? Hard to name a feeling he hasn't felt in a long time. Could it be because he doesn't fit any of your 'requirements'? Or could it be because a certain wizard fit your describtion almost to a t? But Astarion relaxed, Gale would never shave that dead squirrel on his face.

He forced out a high pitched laugh. "Good luck finding anyone that fits all your describtions darling. I pity you though. Being this picky robs you of lots of fun."

You shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe," you stepped towards him, making his undead heart beat a bit faster, to his surprise. "Maybe I'll have way more fun with my dark-haired, half-updo having, clean-shaven, scar-faced future lover than with a horny vampire," you booped his nose and walked away, leaving him stunned.

How in the world will he ever fulfill his plan?

Turns out he didn't need to. For the first time in his life his body was totally useless to his plans. All he had to do to win your heart was couple of deep moments here, some nice deeds there, a cliche rose he saw you stare at a bit too long. Very romantic. Very normal. Very...innocent. And very time consuming as well.

But he couldn't say he minded. Quite the opposite, he enjoyed all the little moments he experienced with you. When you were by his side, talking about absolute nonsense under the starry night while the dying bonfire cracked and all your companions slept in their tents, in moments like that he felt normal again. Alive. He forgot about all he's been through in the past two centuries. For a short while, true, but even that was better than a blessing from any god, if any of them existed.

After another night like that he came to a realization: he loved you. Sincerely.

Which wasn't part of the plan. At all. Maybe it'll pass? Yeah. It will definitelly pass. He has concidered some of his past victims almost charming, but the feeling went away by the time they passed Cazador's palace gates. In this case it will take a day, maybe two.

A whole week passed and his heart only continued beating for you. He couldn't take it anymore. Lying was fun, but not to you. Not anymore.

He came clean. About everything. His manipulation, failed seduction. Everything. It happened on a type of night he has selfishly claimed as only his and yours. Fire cracked, companions slept, stars twinkled and you, just like always, stunned him by hugging him and confessing to him.

He hasn't stopped shoving your love for him in everyone's faces since, especially Gale's. He hasn't gotten to enjoying your body either, but he didn't really mind. You stayed with him despite his trauma, and that was enough for him. Besides, he doesn't want to mentally escape while making love to the only person who unconditionally cared for him. He wanted to be fully present, you deserved it. Who cares if his healing will take a month or a year, or several? You certainly didn't. You were just happy to be with him, and so was he.

His brand new plan of building his life with you, with a side quest of killing a certain bastard, fell apart when you met a druid.

Halsin.

Astarion didn't mind him at first. Even became somewhat fond of him. Until he started noticing the little things. Halsin's lingering looks. Your kind smile. The two of you fighting side by side more often then you fought by Astarion's side.

And then the memory of his first seduction fail came back. Your type. Long dark hair. Half updo. Shaved. Scarred. Halsin ticked every single box. Astarion mentally slapped himself. How could he even begin to think any of this would last? Everything was too good to be true, too dreamy to be exact. Like straight out of one of Wyll's stories.

It became clear to him. Halsin will want to bed you. And you would, understandably, accept. It was just a matter of days till you walk up to him and tell him about Halsin's great proposition. If you'd be generous enough to tell him beforehand, that is. If you were secretely rotten just like the rest of the world you'd tell him only after, either to boast or to rub salt in his wounds. Indirectly telling him you have needs he cannot fulfill.

He really hoped you wouldn't do the latter. Hells, he hoped you'd refuse Halsin altogether and stay loyal to what the two of you have. But what exactly is that? Just two people who cuddle a lot and kiss. A relationship no different from that formed by children.

Yeah. In the end he wouldn't blame you. He really wouldn't. The only thing he wishes for is your heart belonging to him, your love only being reserved for him. If sleeping with Halsin is what it takes for you to stay his than so be it. He's survived worse.

Days came and went. You still cuddled with him through every night. Astarion even started to have hopes he was making all of that up. He would never be happier to be wrong.

Until one day...

"Astarion," came your voice sweeter than honey. "You would not believe the conversation I just had with Halsin."

He laughed. Bitterly. "I was wondering when you were going to ask me about this," his voice was aloof, almost sort of cheerful. Disguising his disapointment. Not in you of course, in life itself.

"Did he talk to you about it?" You asked, a bit surprised.

"I guessed. The man can't stay quiet about 'enjoying the freedom of nature's gifts', ha," he mocked Halsin's deep voice. "He would outlaw clothing if he could."

"Aaaand what do you say?" You looked up at him with your bright eyes he loved getting lost in so much.

He gulped down a bitter set of words and put on his practiced smile. "I don't mind at all. Go on, have fun. As long as you return to me in the end."

He watched. Waited for your reaction. A happy squeel, a set of thank yous, a relief, an excitement your urges will be met after such a long time, anything really. But he didn't expect your smile to fall, your eyes darken with something. Anger? No, anger looks different on you. Disapointment? More likely, but not quite that either.

"Are you serious?" You asked, tone cold.

Your POV

You were never desired. Not by your peers, your crushes, random people, nobody. Not that you were ugly, you just blended into the background easily. Sure, after people got to know you they became rather fond, but it always took time. Very few people have that nowadays. If the cover doesn't interest them they won't even bother to read the book.

Then came the disaster, the mindflayers, the tadpole. It would be the most miserable time of your life, if you haven't met your companions. One by one they've made your dull life a bit lighter, livelier.

Especially Astarion. His appearance didn't interest you in the begining. Pale as a chalk, curly hair growing barely past his ears. He had no facial hair whatsoever which could be his saving feature but he was robbed of the hotness a scar could bring him.

However your feelings changed when you started talking with him, getting to know him. He had so much more to himself and his appearance became something that was just there and not the first thing you noticed every time you looked at him.

Funny enough, you've started to notice a slight change in his behaviour towards you. Touches lingered a bit too long, smile became a bit less perfect. And something in his eyes you couldn't really put a finger on.

He confessed to you one night. Not a confession you'd be thrilled to hear. He told you about his plan, his manipulation. It made your heart crack. Of course this would happen. Of course someone would be interested in you only if they could gain something from you. Were you cursed?

You wanted to be mad. You wanted to slap him and tell him to go to hells. But you couldn't. Not after the words that followed next.

He loved you. Even without outright saying it you could sense it. In that moment he was the most sincere he has ever been with you, most open. All his walls torn down, pouring his soul out for you. How could you do anything other than confess your own love for him?

The days that followed had been the best ones yet. No one has ever made you feel this desired. Astarion was still a flirty little goblin but when it was just the two of you late at night he became gentler, a bit more romantic. Well, not quite since he had a twisted view on romance after two hundred years under Cazador, but his efforts always made your heart melt.

Not for a second did you feel the need to do anything more with him besides cuddling. Your first time with him was great, ignoring his cocky and sassy personality he could be an exceptionally gentle lover. But you understood how he felt and respected him and his boundaries. Besides, his big hand wrapped around yours when you walked from town to town, his head laying on your chest listening to your heartbeat while your fingers gently played with the curls you started to love, all of these innocent touches outweigh any need for his body in a more mature way.

Thing have been good, until you met Halsin. Then things became even better. He brought this new atnosphere to your little group. Since he wasn't infected you tried so hard to make him feel welcomed. Not that he looked like he needed it, but old habits die hard.

However he must've misinterpreted your kindness. You tried to hold in your scoff as he proposed polygamy to you. You, the biggest hopeless romantic who has already gotten her prince charming. Not in a way she expected or dreamed about but still. But his words did give her an idea.

To make Astarion jealous. He never showed any signs of jealousy, you never gave him a reason. And yet you still wanted to know what it felt like. Remembering your childhood friends having boys and girls alike fight over them. No one has ever fought for you. No one has ever pulled you into their body and glared at anyone who flirted with you despite your discomfort. All of these scenarios you experienced only through heroines in your romance novels.

Halsin gave you a perfect opportunity to experience it now! It may sound cruel, but you couldn't wait. Astarion has always addressed you as my love, my sweet, my darling, my, my, my. Surely he would be the possessive type. What would he do first? Pull you into him and kiss your mind senseless to remind you who you belong to? Or would he talk you out of a night of passion with Halsin? He does talk a lot but you really hoped he would do what every guy in your novels did. Minus the steamy scenes that sometimes followed, of course.

Oh, how wrong you were.

"Are you serious?" You asked, heartbroken.

His confident mask fell, confusion replacing it. "Yes? Did I say otherwise?"

Tears stung in your eyes. Was he really serious? Did he not mind one bit if you slept with another man? Did he love you so little? Did he love you at all? You knew his thoughts on love and genuine care could be a bit twisted and wrong but to this extent? To just throw you at any man that asks you as if you meant nothing to him. As if your nights together in eachother's embrace meant nothing to him.

Apparently your quivering lip and teary eyes wasn't the reaction he expected. He cupped your left cheek. "Sweetheart, did I do anything wrong?"

You slapped his hand away. "You did everything wrong. I-," you looked away, hoping your tears of disapointment and anger wouldn't fall, "I thought we had something."

"We do! Of course we do. But I can't hold your hunger against you. Trust me, I understand what it feels like, to desire something and seldom acquire it."

"But it's you who I desire!" A tear fell. "And not in terms of sex. It's your care, teasing, love. All of that," you sniffled. "All of you."

Now Astarion was more confused than before. "But... your talk with the druid. You were happy about his proposition. Are you telling me you turned him down?"

You nodded. "I did. I'm not the kind of girl to sleep with people I don't trust. I trust you. I love you. Even without sleeping with you I want to stay by your side. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Well yes, concidering your type."

"My type?"

"Oh please," he sighed. "Look at him for goodness sake. Luscious brown hair reaching his shoulders, a huge scar, no facial hair. Features you were positively gushing about right infront of me."

Realization hit you just as hard as old memories. You remember that night. He has offered you some of his wine and some flirty lines as well. You humored him back then. "You... you remember that?"

He looked away, arms crossed, tips of his pointy ears flushed. "Of course I do. How could I forget the first person not falling for my charm? I simply made a mental note in case we ever come across some shape changing potion so I could fit your standards. It was purely for research."

You smirked. "Oooor, could it be," you took a step closer to him, hands clasped behind your back making you look innocent and almost childishly teasing, "that perhaps you've started liking me by that point?"

He groaned. "Hells woman, I don't know. I've stopped writing myself a diary since lomg ago."

"It's not a no," you said in a sing-song voice.

Before he could turn away you cupped his cheeks and made his pouty self face you. "Listen, if I didn't know either of you and you'd be walking down the street as complete strangers to me, true, I would ignore your pale vampiric ass over Halsin any time of the day."

Annoyed, Astarion rolled his eyes and went in to push your hands away from his face but you held still. You gently place couple of soft kisses over his cheekbones and continued. "But personality plays a big role in who my heart belongs to. If both of you walked down the street now I'd jump into your arms without a second thought. And not because of what either of you look like."

You stood on your tippy toes and kissed his forhead. "It's your sense sarcasm," kiss on the bridge of his nose, "dry and sometimes downright wrong sense of humor," you drag your lips gently along his nose, "your playfulness that keeps your old ass young," he scoffed but let you peck the tip of his nose, "your wit, your charm, your passion. And I do mean outside of the bed," you clarified as you kept giving his face little kisses.

His arms held onto your waist as you listed off all of the qualities he may or may not possess. If he physically could he would be purring like a cat right now. "Darling, you sure do know how to stroke my ego."

"Oh really? Maybe I should stop. I don't want you to become too spoiled after all," you teased but you both knew you didn't mean a single word.

He hummed, which almost did sound like a cat's purr. "Or maybe I should just tease out all the ways you wanted me to react out of you. Was it this?" Without a warning he yanked you into his chest, forcefully but not too violently. One of his hands slowly moved from your waist up between your shoulderblades, carressing your back with just his fingertips, making you shiver.

"Or this?" He leaned down, his nose brushing against yours, cold undead lips close enough to feel his breath on your mouth but too far away for an actual contact.

Despite his torturous teasing you giggled. "Actually, I already got my reaction."

"You did?" He dropped the sauve seductive act completely and pulled back anough to properly look you in the eyes.

"Yeah. I mean it wasn't the same as in my books, and definitely not what I expected. But it was better. It was real."

You snaked your arms around his neck. "Besides, if you did everything as I expect you to, it wouldn't be half as much fun with you now would it?"

Smiling he closed his eyed and rested his forhead on yours. "No, it definitelly wouldn't, darling. Although," his mouth twusted inti a devilish smirk. Oh no.

In one swift movement he scooped you up over his shoulder making his way towards your shared tent. A concept of secluded tents has gone out the window once Astarion realized how wonderful a warm body feels against his throughout the night.

"I'd love to know precisely what kind of books you've read before my glorious presense took over your love life."

You struggled against his grasp a bit but quickly gave up. Not because it was impossible to break free but because, as embarassing as it was to admit, you liked how he carried you. Being manhandled by him wasn't so bad from time to time.

"You'd be bored out of your mind. Most of them were cheesy novels for hopeless romantics."

He entered the tent and gently layed you down on your side of the bedroll. He turned to close the flaps to give the two of your desired alone time and said: "Well, to each their own I suppose. But who knows, maybe I can get an inspiration from some of them. Making your silly childhood dreams of knights in shining armors and princesses become a reality."

After he was done he layed down and assumed his favourite position. Head on your chest, ear right over your heart, arms holding you close to him. Instead of playing with his hair as always your hands cradled his head, thumb brushing his cheek.

"My love, you've already made so many of them a reality."

He chuckled into your chest, one hand coming up to angle your wrist so he could kiss your pulse. "Surely there must be some I haven't."

There were. Those where they lived happily ever after.

But those had time.

[poppyflavour]

King Orange! Or rather Mango (Tango?? -v-'), he's healthy now

Also, I remade Purple

I think she looks better now

[arolesbianism]

I Really need to properly draw Christopher at some point but everytime I want to I just look at her in game sprite and weep for her truest form has already been achieved. What's even the point. This is her in the flesh.

[be-xkyy]

yandere cowboy x boss's daughter who is an innocent country girl and barely knows that the person she trusts most is the one she should fear most

Well, I have a few ideas coming to mind about this scenario but I'll pick one for now.

Tw: Yandere, violence, blood, breeding, dirty talk , naive reader.

Yandere cowboy who works for your father for a while now. He's one of his most trusted workers and your father isn't the type to trust many people.

He always does jobs here and there on the ranch helping to put up wire fences so cattle don't escape, looking for cattle when they enter other lands, threatening neighboring ranchers when they don't want to return cows or sheep.

In his defense, they deserve a bullet in the head for trying that shit with him.

But the job he likes the most is taking care of you, the beautiful and naive daughter of his boss. He simply fell in love with you since he saw you for the first time a few years ago.

You were all pretty behind your father in that flowery dress, cowboy boots, your braided hair... and how can we forget your cute tits.

Tits he thought about that same night as he masturbated, his calloused hand wrapped around his hard member as he rubbed vigorously imagining you looking up at him with your big eyes as you ride him your tits bouncing on his face it's so good he ends up cumming all over his hand.

You are indeed a pretty little thing all smiles and ignorant of the world and people's intentions. Raised and protected by your father kept under his wing for far too long after all you are his only daughter.

It's inevitable that he ends up threatening and beating to death your countless suitors who shamelessly approach you believing they have a chance, no fucking way will it happen. not on his watch.

He simply corners them away from your sight and beats them mercilessly, he gives them a hard punch his knuckles impact their nose with a loud crunch he doesn't stop as the man falls to the floor with a broken nose.

Of course not.

He beats them until his fists are bruised and the man's face is covered in blood with a broken nose, teeth knocked out and eyes swollen he grabs them by the collar of their shirts as he growls.

"Stay away from her or i assure you this will be nothing compared to what I'll do to you, buddy"

The one who tries to make himself as presentable as possible so you won't get suspicious when he comes back to you.

He knows everything he does is worth it when you show all worried for him grabbing his calloused hands in yours, looking at his bruised knuckles asking him if he's okay with that worried tone that makes his cock hard inside his pants.

He ends up asking you to "comfort" him a little like he taught you. You both end up in the barn with him leaning you on hay bales, his hands undoing his belt and zipper before pulling down his pants along with his boxers that get caught on his knees.

Then he lifts your dress as you whine about the hay stinging your ass, he just pats your thigh to shut you up as his fingers pull down your panties, he hisses when he sees your pussy he moves his thick fingers closer inspecting your wet entrance.

"God you're so wet, for someone who acts so sweet you're a bit of a slut aren't you doll?"

He arches an eyebrow when you shake your head shyly at his words murmuring an embarrassed "I'm not..." he lets out a laugh that rumbles from deep within his chest his thick fingers don't stop moving thrusting into your hot pussy your walls squeeze his fingers like hell.

He grabs his member unable to resist any longer he uses your wetness to lubricate his cock and slide inside you, both of you let out a moan of pleasure you from the delicious stretch and him from feeling your walls throb around him he murmurs.

"What a tight fucking pussy you have so hungry for my fat cock baby doll"

He moves his hips hard his heavy balls slap against your ass and his pubic hair scrapes deliciously against your pussy, your juices forming a creamy circle at the base of his cock as your nails dig into his muscled belly for support, his moans combined and the loud wet sound of his cock pounding into your pussy fills the barn.

"You're about to cum aren't you baby doll? Fuck–of course you're about to cum your pussy is getting so tight right now I think you want to rip my cock off"

His hands tighten their grip on your waist and you just mumble stupidly wrapping your legs tightly around his waist your boots dig into his ass as you cum letting out a high pitched moan your eyes roll back in your head from the intense pleasure, he growls thrusting into you hard chasing his own orgasm that doesn't take long to come.

With one last thrust he thrusts deep inside you, stopping his movements and letting his semen explode, flooding your interior with its swimmers. Who knows, maybe today will be the day when his seed finally takes root inside you. He would be the best father, the best husband and the best successor for your father. Your father will also see it that way. Because it would be a shame to have to kill him, after all, they are almost family, right..?

[onskepa]

Hi how are you? If you want, could you tell us what your headcanons would be for what the Sully children's relationship would be like with a human/avatar mother who was mated with Jake and Neytiri? Thank you very much, have a great day!

I can see a lot of possible outcomes for this one! So here ya go! Enjoy!

P.S: Reader will not be given a name in this one, instead she will be called "small mama"

Pinnacle protection

-------------------------------

Pinnacle motherhood

Right off the bat, the whole family loves their third mother, second mate. Jake sully couldn't ask for a better family, and better mates. Especially his little human mate. Neytiri will agree with him, while yes she has her children to hug, her little mate is just what she needs. Something small yet full of love just for her. 

Now like any trio, there is a balance between the parents. Jake is the head of the family, the brains with his clever ideas. Neytiri at times can be the brains but most muscle due to her skills in fighting and hunting. And their beloved human is the heart of the family. Keeping everyone together. 

And like any child, the sully kids will have favorites. And their favorite is their amazing human mother. She is the most fun, loving parent any child could ever ask for. Are they not getting their way with Jake or neytiri? To mama it is! And mama will always fold by the simple look of her kids. 

Another thing about their favorite mama, they all believe she has the power to read their minds. How else would it explain she knows their next move? 

Lo’ak and tuk can recall so many instances where they were barely forming an idea only for their mama to say “dont even think about it” or “it is not worth the trouble”. 

For neteyam, as he is the oldest he does try to be a good example for his mischievous siblings, along with holding so many responsibilities, but he can always count on his small mama for anything. Small mama consoles him, talking about anything neteyam has his mind about. 

Unlike Jake or neytiri who neteyam has to put up a strong warrior face, with a small mama he can revert back to being a baby with her. He feels safe and be a kid again with her. And small mama always called him her “little baby boy”. Neteyam won't admit it but he likes it when she calls him that. 

For kiri, she definitely adores her small mama. She is closer to her third parent than she is with neytiri. Not to be mean or anything. But with Jake, Kiri can talk about what odd things happen around her, ask her about her mother and stuff but with her small mama. Well, she can express far more with her, be free to say anything not be judged upon. Kiri can dare say small mama understands her more than anyone in the world.

With tuk, the baby of the family. Why, she loves to be the taller one, it makes her happy. Of course she would never tease her small mama that she is taller, but small mama would call her “tiny tuk”. A name tuk loves and will glady flex it for some reason. 

If tuk can't go somewhere with her older siblings, small mama would personally take her anywhere she wants to go. As long as it is safe. With small mama, everything is fun and never boring. Tuk loves the times where her hair is braided or she braids small mama’s hair. 

Now, if small mama would use her avatar, nothing much would change. Except that now the kids will demand piggy back rides. Tuk or lo’ak would be front of the line for that.  

Hunting would be easier and much more fun with jake and neytiri, running, riding their ikrans, less risk overall. 

Even with her avatar, she is still short compared to her two mates. She is smaller than Neytiri by 9 ½ inches. Not something she is super thrilled about. No matter what body, she is still small mama through and through. 

Small mama is forever grateful to live her best life with her family, loving them and saying her thanks to Eywa for blessing her to be the best of her two worlds. Through hardships, through trials, small mama has a mighty heart and a roar of an ikran. Yes sometimes she might be stressed or frustrated but life is not perfect. Small mama knows that all too well. But there is nothing better than what she has. 

[unluckilyimnot]

Playing with their hair – aether, kinich, wanderer, rin, sae, sakura

note: i'm just in love with aether and kinich recently and i needed to write something with aether's hair so why not had some of my fav characters along with them. that's probably not really good but i guess it's cute. ooc

m.list | rules

Aether is used to your hands suddenly laying on his hair, running through them when you walk behind him – it’s like an urge, you just have to. You stopped on your track, bowing to kiss his head, inhaling his shampoo a little and hummed at the sweet scent.

“You took my shampoo again,” you mentioned, not in a warning way, more like you appreciate it. He nodded lightly, delighting himself from the feeling of your hands still running through his hair, scratching his scalp a little before kissing it again.

Sensing that you’re about to go away, his hands take yours gently and his head bent down to look up at you. “Already leaving ? We can both take a break…” he said, subtly implying you to not stop yet, making you giggle.

“Sure, we can.”

That’s basically how he ended up sitting on the floor between your thighs, watching a movie while you brush his hair for him, kindly letting your fingers run down his beautifully long hair – trying small, low buns to one high ponytail.

“Having fun ?” You can hear the smile in his voice, amused as always when he let you enjoy his hair more than he does.

“Always.” you said while kissing his nose from above, hiding the tv from his sight for a mere second but he still whines at you for doing so. Such a crybaby.

Kinich sighs as he feels your hands examining his hair again. “Would you stop doing that ?”

He knows you’re not doing this to annoy him, yet it always kind of stresses him to picture you scanning his scalp without any invitation to do so. He also knows that you don’t care about what he says, continuing to play with his hair while you swipe away some dandruff here and there.

“What’s the matter,” you talked back, seemingly frustrated. “You never say anything when it’s to help you fall asleep.” you argued, feeling really satisfied when he doesn’t find anything to say after that. It for sure helps a lot, he can’t argue with that, but he really hoped you could realize that it works all the time and not only when he wants it to – which means he was getting sleepy, slightly closing his eyes while he still had a lot to do.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips before he could hold it in and you hummed teasingly. Your hands moved from his head to his chest, your arms caging him against you and you laid your head on top of his. “Tired already ?”

“Shut it.” he sounded harsh but he still rested against your chest as well, feeling at peace being so close to you. He wasn’t really tired but if you let him, Kinich would for sure appreciate some quality time with his head in your chest and your hands in his hair. Not that he’ll say it to you.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after. 

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it. 

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you. 

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something. 

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously. 

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day. 

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here  –  especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed. 

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush. 

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly. 

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again. 

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you. 

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it –  he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

Let me know if you like it !

[bi-writes]

ok simon and his mail order bride live rent-free in my head now and, like, what i wanna know is what their anniversaries look like? not just their one year anniversary, but also their fifth or tenth? how does it change as they settle into that deep comfortability that comes with being with someone a long time? -391780

this piece i still consider canon mail-order bride, but i see it almost as an extra than a continuation of the current story since it is very much in the future of that timeline. <3

mail-order bride

it's difficult to see the potential of something so mangled. sometimes things are so worn out and so used that they don't reflect what their purpose was. instead of function, they see flaw. instead of value, they see waste.

sometimes you wonder if that's what they saw in you. sometimes you wonder if that's why you were given to him.

that's what they made him. simon was a tortured dog they let loose. they saw value, but only what was left, and perhaps they thought something like you might help them squeeze just that little bit more out of him. one more year. one more op.

the sunlight wakes you up. you forgot to pull the blinds, but when you see simon sleeping peacefully next to you, it's worth it to be up so early. you know as soon as you move, he will wake, so you keep still for just a few more minutes.

today marks ten. he doesn't look much older. he seems to have stopped aging ever since you asked him to put in his papers.

like always, as soon as you sit up, simon blinks awake. he's bleary, but conscious, and when your eyes meet, you smile at him. he lifts his big hand and rubs your back gently. you don't speak any words so early in the morning, but you don't have to. there isn't much to say when the love of your life loves you, and you love them back.

you push the blankets off, giggling when you reveal the black and orange balls of fur that blink up at you. they almost seem irritated that you interrupted their sleep, snuggled in the heat that simon radiated. they'll just have to deal with it.

you drag your hand down simon's leg wordlessly. you hear his deep breaths from behind, and you reach into your bedside table to press a little balm into your hand before spreading the ointment across his knee and under it. you work it into the muscles nice and slow; any faster, and simon will hitch his breath in pain, and you'll have to start over.

you kiss his knee before laying back down, settling into his side, and you lift up your left hand, wiggling your fingers knowingly at him before looking up towards his face. he smiles down at you sleepily, raising his hand to cup your fingers.

"still love me?" you ask softly, and simon pretends to think about.

"mmm..." he rumbles. "still love ya."

"but do you still like me?"

"more everyday."

the first few years were spent trying to play catch-up. fancy dinners, expensive gifts, handwritten letters that could've been novels to try and stuff the love you have for each other all in one night. they were all wonderful; you think about those nights all the time, and you cherish the gifts he's given you like they are a part of you, but today feels different.

today might not be just another day, but it's just as special as yesterday. and the day before that. and the day before that.

when it's time to really wake up, you let simon guide you. he walks easy, barely a limp, and he sits you down at your vanity to help you do your hair as you add your serums and moisturizers. he's good with that brush, running it through gently, parting your hair the way you like so he can tie it up. he'd braid your hair if you asked him to (he said it wasn't unlike all the knots he knows how to tie--and he meant it, no one dutch braids like him), but you know your show came out last night, and you want to watch them with the scones you have proofing in the fridge.

he makes the coffee and tea while you set the scones in the oven. you fill the cat's bowls while he cleans out the water fountain. it's wordless, the morning routine, but you like the times when you brush by him. when your arm runs against his. when your hands bump going for the same cabinet. when he leans down as he passes you, kissing along your jaw before he keeps walking.

bliss. fucking bliss.

he's waiting for you in the living room once you pull the scones out of the oven. your coffee sits on the table on its coaster, in your favorite mug, and he's under your blanket as he flips through the tv. he already knows what you'll want to watch, and you bite back your smile when you notice him typing it into the search bar because he didn't see it when he scrolled past (you keep telling him to wear his glasses, but he'll never listen).

you take a seat next to him, thumbing at his cheek, and he takes a scone off the plate before biting into it. he smiles when he tastes chocolate, looking at you knowingly, and you reach for his hand as you settle against his chest.

you used to be mangled, too. a mess. pretty on the outside, dying on the inside. all fried wires, a traumatized animal, learned behavior of relieve and appease that kept you out of trouble and out of sight.

you have never seen simon this way. and simon has never seen you this way. no hopeless potential. no wasted space. no diminishing value.

i matter because you matter. you matter because i matter.

hidden, not broken. disguised, not incomplete. you did not have jagged edges, only armor that you tried to put up to protect yourself.

you tip your head back to look up at him, and when he cups your jaw to stare back at you, you're relieved by what you see in his eyes.

ten years. it will be nothing like forever. it will be nothing like your next life, nor like the life after that. it's comforting to know what home looks like. maybe you will recognize it the way you recognized it in this life.

no, that can't be it.

you recognized it because it had already happened. in some other time, in some other place, you were sitting where you sit now, looking at simon the way you look at him now.

you knew who he was before you even met him, and you will know who he is when you meet him again.

[whokilledsamara]

I loved both of ur scarletella hcs 💕 would it be possible to get more with mr crawling?

MR. CRAWLING HC {N/SFW}

a Mr. Crawling x reader list of sfw and nsfw hc. {an : ahh ty! ofc! i love him hes so puppy coded}

warnings!: smut, nsfw, soft sex, switch!reader, cunnilingus, blowjob, public {?}, slight marking, afab and amab genitalia described.

SFW HC

a list of sfw hc on what it would be like to date Mr. Crawling

for starters, Mr. Crawling has got to be the perfect lover out of all of the boys.

hes sweet, caring, and just a touch of yandere. {no where near as much as Mr. Scarletella...}

in a relationship with him, it would be like normal just x10.

he is a very touchy lover. when he is crawling he likes to be as close to you as possible. he says its for your safety but you know its more than that.

at night when you are sleeping, he stays near you constantly. he doesn't need to sleep, but if you let him, he will hold you while you sleep in his arms.

he goes out of his way to find gifts and food for you, even engaging with the others to GET it.

if you choose to take him home, {why wouldnt you...} then he will become almost like a housewife.

hes a fast learner so he can easily figure out how to clean, MAYBE cook, and really anything else. hes such a good boy!

speaking of a good boy.. he LOVES praise. he will do anything he can do just to hear you praise him. it really sets off his endorphins when he hears those sweet sounds of love come out of your mouth.

though he doesn't understand how it works, he likes kisses! he loves pressing his lips to yours or you giving him face kisses, like forehead or cheeks.

his hair is a big thing, he wants you to play with it or experiment with it. if you put his hair in styles, like braids or buns, he will be so happy !!

as for baths, he needs your help to teach him. in the underworld, smell wasnt really prominent too much. and there wasnt really a way for him to stay clean. his skin is sensitive, but he likes when you help wash him. he does enjoy baths!

his biggest concern is his face. he is very insecure about it, so PLEASE constantly remind him and tell him that he isn't ugly.

he gets so giddy at any sort of touches, even accidental.

he has major jealousy issues and gets upset if you talk to other people, so make sure you give him regular attention. {he could never be mad at you hehe}

you could look like/wear ANYTHING and he would think you are the most beautiful thing alive.

NSFW HC

a list of nsfw hcs on your sex life with Mr. Crawling

you might have to teach him what sex even is honestly. being locked up in an abandoned apartment complex with no sexual activity will make it hard to even know what it is.

hes so cute during sex. guaranteed. at first he is surprised you even want to have sex with him, like he is genuinely shocked.

once he is out of his clothes he is already a whimpering mess. still semi worried you are joking.

when i tell you he doesnt last, i mean it. a few thrusts in and he is already cumming. dont worry, he has unlimited stamina, and can go for hours or as long as you want.

after a few times, he learns that he LOVES giving you head. whether afab or amab, he is all up in that.

very submissive during sex, but is still the one manhandling you.

as said earlier, call him a good boy and he could probably just orgasm from that. praise is definitely a huge turn on.

he is a very fast learner {as are all of them}, almost instantly finding those spots inside of you.

he has very long, slim fingers. take that as you will.

he likes having his hair pulled. wants you to grab ahold of it and use him.

anywhere, and anytime you need him, he will be there. he will even find a random corner and go to town on you if you wish.

absolutely would have bloody sex. any blood, doesnt matter.

ill write more another day on a separate fic, for now here is a small paragraph for him going down on you. {could be afab or amab depending on how you look at it}

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[muntitled]

Sweet Hearts

♡ Mark Lee x afab!reader

♡ Summary: Nothing could sway you from finding your producer attractive and you were okay with that fact...Before you knew it, every recording session was filled with stolen kisses that bled into fiery make-out sessions.

♡ Warnings: Language, Producer!Mark, Idol!Reader, Forbidden Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Mutual Pining, Humor Overworked Losers In Love, Smut (+18) Dom!Mark, Brat Taming, Minors DNI, Massive, Praise Kink, Slight Exhibitionist!Kink, Dirty Talk, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mark,

RAHHH, kinda feral writing this, I'm sorry

From the moment you established yourself in the industry, you had been quite comfortable viewing yourself as an independent career woman, thank you very much. Many men had tried and failed to sway you from the retches of your passion projects respectively. Hyuck being onesuch romantic endevour that had failed to shine in the shadow of your work. You had tried to make it work. You really did.

No amount of dick could keep you away from the studio. It was your hapoy place: nestled in a stuffy booth with your notepad opened on your lap filpped with slightly manic notes and lyrics.

No one, before Mark had ever seemed to share that sentiment.

"I'm a busy girl," your words barely left your mouth before being kissed away by Mark's eager lips. He was panting heavily. You both were, as he pressed you up against the wall of some record exec's boardroom. He swiped your braids out of the way, to better reach the expanse of skin by your neck. Both of you pawing at each other's clothes. Both of you overflowing with yearning.

"I'm a busy dude," he whispered back. "We don't have to turn this into anything serious, Sweetheart..." Mark's thumb was rubbing tentatively at your soft hips, as if waiting for the go ahead before he ravished you.

You had both decided this secrecy was enough. You and Mark perused the halls of your record company, greeting amicably as if you hadn't felt his hands around your throat.

He had kissed and kissed and kissed you, until someone inevitably walked by.

You had never met anyone as sonically obsessed as you are, until you were acquainted with Mark. He, would quickly become not only your incredibly talented and driven producer but also a friend with added benefits.

Before you knew it, every recording session was filled with stolen kisses that bled into passionate make-out sessions. You were developing a frankly perplexing habit of overanalyzing how attractive he looked when he runs his hand through his hair during spells of frustration- or when he got the incomparable burst of genius to freestyle over a beat as if it was a long lost friend. Nothing could sway you from finding your producer attractive and you were okay with that fact...

You couldn't retain satisfactory orgasms from your music alone, could you? You weren't inhumane... you needed a companion.

"I just want you..."

And he had you.

So badly it was beginning to mess with your concentration.

"Alright, let's run it from the top-"

It's not everyday a girl falls helplessly in love with her producer.

"Yo, you good?" Mark's voice sounds from the intercom, dragging your eye from your notebook up towards the two men on the other side of the sound glass.

"From the top?!" Haechan cries incredulously. Without looking at him, Mark nods. Wholly unimpressed by Donghyuck's whining. "I think the song's fine," Hyuck runs a hand through his hair. His large feet stomp on the carpeted floors and you fight off a grin.

Mark scoffs in that way that only Haechan gets him to do and you suck on the straw of your mocha from inside the booth. Your disposition screaming, 'the girls are fighting.'

"Yeah you would think the song's fine," Mark before he rolls his eyes, Hyuck petulantly screams, "What's that supposed to mean!?"

"She clearly wants us to carry on," your teeth clench down on your straw as you're ripped into the middle of their argument.

"Do you want us to carry on?" Mark asks and your throat goes dry. Behind him, Haechan's palms are clutched together as he mouths 'Please, no, please!'

"I-"

You were at a crossroads.

The urge to people please was gnawing at your insides as your eyes drifted from Haechan, a vocal coach you loved and adored and Mark, a producer you'd just started working with...

The urge to give into them both was hanging heavily on you.

"Remember, Sweetheart, it's okay," Mark's voice sounds from the speaker, eliciting a wave of... something you're not quite sure of yet.

A crush... perhaps.

"I would..." You clear your throat, swing Haechan's eyes, "I would feel better if we polished some things up,"

Mark nods along, a small smile tugging at his lips. A look of betrayal on Hyuck's face.

You knew perfectly well that the song was fine, better than fine, actually. The only thing stopping you from leaving the studio was the boring life that awaited you. Your boring apartment with your boring cat (whom you loved dearly). Everything beyond these four walls was as monotonous as the day is long. No one waited for you out there.

In here though...

"Okay, yeah, no. I can't do this," You watch Haechan gather his belongings with incredulous eyes.

"You're abandoning me? We haven't even gotten to the chorus and you're abandoning me."

Haechan's hair is in complete disarray as he types hurriedly on his phone and you're left to watch from inside the booth. "While you re-record and re-record an already perfect record, my stomach has growled 5 times-"

You roll your eyes, "Haechan, food is for the weak. We can do this."

"I can't," He shook his head, evading eye contact as he pulled on his letterman jacket, effectively stowing away hi will to work and be persuaded to work.

"Let him leave." There's something in Mark's tone to suggest you quit trying to persuade Haechan.

"You psychos can overwork yourselves together."

When Haechan left, he took with him, a sense of platonic ease. Here, with Mark staring directly at you, his presence was stifling.

~

There aren't any actual windows in here... if it weren't for a quick glance af your phone, you would've never known night has already fallen.

"What would really be hot is if you added the last word of the verse, ad libitum. So if you said 'takeoff' but with like a lower pitch in between the chorus and the second verse. I think that would be great," You realize you had taken to swaying in one spot and quickly corrected yourself as you placed your hands on your headphones and nodded, vaguely agreeing but never really hearing anything after the words 'great'. Hearing anything falling from Mark's plump lips at this very moment would send your imagination hurtling into the fiery pits of hell. Him, staring at you so intensely through the glass and behind the soundboard left you unable to focus.

"Sweetheart?" He says, with a finger on the intercom. "Do you get me? If you do, I'm gonna need to hear you use your words, okay?" With his eyes fixed solely on you, waiting patiently for your compliance, you are convinced he was literally and figuratively trying to kill you.

"Sorry," You say, trying to dispute how heavily his words weighed down on you, "I'm thinking about all the babies that die in between you purposely using the words ad libitum instead of just saying ad lib." Saving yourself with swift and easy rebuttal had always been a specialty...

"Sorry, sorry!" Said Mark, "I'll stop with the annoying producer talk," he rolls his eyes behind the glass of his thick-rimmed glasses.

"Dont stop," You find yourself saying, "Its hot.

Seconds pass with Mark's index finger tapping away at the soundboard.

"Continue."

But it was incredibly difficult to continue with your mind and all its unsavory thoughts seeping out of your skull and straight into your lyrics. Perhaps working on the more explicit songs with Mark had been an utterly dire decision, one that practically solidified your downfall.

As you rattle through the dirty lyrics, you make sure to keep a firm gaze on him. Mark maintains eye contact from behind the glass, giving nothing away under his black cap, clad in his short sleeve black shirt and his all black attire.

The dimness of the studio suddenly feels too dim.

This 'mood' that Mark had strived to create in the peroration of your session is suddenly working too well.

Soon, the track is being replaced by Mark's slightly gruff voice echoing in your headphones.

"Sorry to cut you off, Sweetheart," The coolness with which he utters the nickname releases a wave of arousal in your core, and you inadvertently take a seat on the stool closest to you, subtly crossing your legs in front of you.

"I just want you to take note of something for me real quick..." for a moment you’re only nodding slowly, waiting for him to continue but he never does. Mark sits silently staring at you with yet another earth shattering, unwavering gaze. You're confused, which Mark would have found incredibly adorable if you weren't actively being such a brat.

"I said take note of something for me, please." He finally lifts his hand, making vague scribbles into the air.

"Mark. You want me to actually write this down?" He only responds with a succinct, I-dare-you-to-argue-with-me "Please."

You make a petulant display of rolling your eyes. His chuckles bleed into your headphones, disrupting your nonverbal tantrum when he says, "You really are trying it today..."

"Maybe if I had someone to correct this attitude, we wouldn't have found ourselves here, would we?" You mutter the sentence as you're staring into you notepad, completely evading his heated gaze. Silence grows pregnant between the two of you before Mark continues, completely choosing to ignore you.

"I'd like you to take note of the brisk allegro that erupts in the pre-chorus," He spins his pen between his fingers as he reads from his own notes. He looks absolutely worn out and so unmistakably beautiful it makes you want to scream.

"I think that part in particular might be vital in solidifying the overall kick of the actual chorus." Not to mention, seeing him in work mode tickled your ovaries in ways you could never have foreseen. In the studio, you had always been the one wading through the laziness of others, picking up the slack where needed and making it your obligation to ignite your producers with the zeal to work with your meticulous ass. But Mark had turned the tables and for the very first time you find yourself unable to think about work.

"Mark," You send him a bored expression, "I literally make slut music, do you really need to be calling it an allegro?"

He is quick in pressing the intercom to clap back, "Slut music deserves a well mastered allegro too, don't you think?" You're only left to slump your shoulders as he continues.

By this point, you know that he knows exactly what you want for him.

Why you're being particularly difficult to work with.

Why you were fighting him on every term but for some unexplainable reason, he's keeping you from it.

"It's good but I feel like we need a pure unprocessed sound... the song sounds too wet, I dunno,"

You inhale sharply, raising a finger into the air, to which, Mark completely ignores you, keeping his eyes on his notes, his brown locks brushing along his eyes.

"And if you're gonna say 'I could tell you something else that's wet' don't bother, because you'll only get muted."

Your shoulders once again sag and you find yourself audibly whimpering into the mic. That quickly catches Mark's attention, and you're left wading in the scrutiniy of his gaze.

"Fuck, I cant work with you like this." He rakes his fingers through his hair, forcing you to rub your exposed thighs under your miniskirt together for the umpteenth time. "Tell me what you need."

"You know what I need..."

He curses under his breath before sending a worried gaze over his shoulder and you realize you have won. It was custom for Mark to send a worried gaze over his shoulder at the door, as if terrified that Hyuck might storm into the studio, face crimson and finding his best friend not only fucking the object of his interest but dominating her.

"I think you need it too." You're quite literally the snake tempting Eve in the garden and he sends another helpless glance at the door before complying.

"A-Alright. Come out here for me real quick," this is what excited you most about Mark. Hearing the trepidation in his voice mixed with Mark's innate nervousness made you dizzy with desire. His anxiety yet still a need to be dominant... it drove you wild.

"Where is this attitude coming from?" He asks, once you appear by his side, inching towards him as if terrified by your own creation. He does not bother to get up, does not bother to tell you stand in front of him, in between his legs. You just do.

It's as if he's saying 'Do what you want. You're your own person.' Knowing full well how effortlessly you tended to submit to him.

"How wet are you?" He asks then, letting his hands graze your hips as you stand before him. His eyes squeezing shut as he rests his head on your abdomen. Your hands come up to pat down at his hair. Overgrown and brown.

"Why don't you find out?"

Mark is slow to closing the notebook on his lap and putting it vaguely near the soundboard without ever taking his eyes off You.

You can see the dark half moons underneath his eyes, stabbing at, not only your arousal, but your innate need to just take care of him. His eyes remain focused on you as he moves to clamp his hand on your exposed thigh, watching your lips part ever so slightly.

"Consider this a brief, very brief recess."

"Yes sir," You had intended for the words to come off more teasingly than it actually did, but it runs straight through to Mark's dick and he's removing his hands from your skin like you have mustered the ability to spontaneously catch on fire.

"Fuck," he replies, sending one more gaze at the door before looking at you once more. With a shaky breath escaping through his lips, he looks utterly wrecked and completely conflicted. You let him wade through the motions without any input.

You just stand there, waiting patiently for his next command.

Mark sits back in his seat, running both hands down his face before saying, "Fuck, alright. Take your underwear off for me..." You speedily oblige as your hands delve underneath your denim skirt. Mark watches with bated breath and clenched teeth as he rubs his fingers along his lips like he's thinking very deep and very hard about something. You hook your fingers into the sides of your pink laced panties, slowly dragging them down as you and Mark both watch each other with steel gazes.

"Keep the skirt on," His resolve melts, his sight set on your ruined underwear. He notices far too quickly that it's his favorite pair, eliciting another wavering breath from him as his other hand clamps around your thigh to pull you impossibly closer.

"You planned this, didn't you?" You can feel the warmth of his shallow breathing as he places his forehead on your abdomen, while he brings his fingers up to your lips.

"Open your mouth for me..." You automatically obey, bringing your mouth around his middle and index fingers. For a short while, his face remains hidden in your dress as you suck, almost petulantly on his fingers. Perhaps he feels a mixture of shame for enjoying this entire scene far too much and soon, he feels he has to peel his face away from your dress to watch you suck so prettily on his fingers.

"F-fuck, baby," His voice is strained between a mixture of a coo and a moan as he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, almost immediately delving underneath your skirt, slotting them inside your drenched cunt. He is utterly ruthless as he sits on the edge of his seat, one hand claimed around your thigh as his fingers fuck in and out of you with absolute vigor. The man is utterly overcome with lust, sporting his own hard on in his joggers as he looks up at you, "Come on, baby... tell me you feel good, you know you want to."

His voice is dripping sex and your mind is completely blown with pleasure as you throw your head back. It is a mystery how you're still standing, but Mark's grip on your hip is concrete.

"Oh God- your fingers feels so good inside me, Fuck." He rewards you by letting his fingers drift over your swollen clit, racking another torrid moan from your throat as he begins to circle it with purpose. You clamp your head against Mark's hunched shoulders, his face once again buried in your dress.

"I just need'a take care or my little angel, don't I?" He's an incoherent, mumbling mess, his words as sloppy as the hands sliding against your clit, "But she makes it difficult when she's being a stuck up little brat," Your head is still craned back while his face is buried against your abdomen and it is as if you both cannot stand to truly see yourselves in such a depraved, animalistic state.

"You're squeezing my fingers baby- Fuck, is this how bad you needed me?" Mark finally cranes back to look up at you. His cheeks are ruddy and his hooded eyes are blown into saucers, "It's so fucking distracting having you so close to me." Your hips cant against his hands until soon, your legs begin to quiver. Mark brings his arm around your waist, forcing you to stand and take everything he gives you.

"You know when you're really needy like this, all you have to do is ask, baby. You know I love taking care of my baby, don't you?" You nearly cum then and there.

"Please Markie-"

"F-Fuck I didn't plan on fucking you today, least of all here. But I really need you right now, alright, pretty girl?" Your body shudders at the lost of his fingers inside you, one more flick against your clit and you would have came all over his fingers.

"Bend over for me, yeah? Mind the sound board." Mark finally rises from his chair, immediately cupping your face with his hands as he bows his head down to you, "I just wanna feel my baby girl squirm around me-" that particular string of words has you whimpering incoherently as Mark crowds behind you, pushing you up against the desk. Your hands grip the edge, careful not to temper with any sonic equipment as Mark raises your skirt lightly. His hand grazes your bare ass and you're sent reeling as your own anxieties begin to set in. You're made strikingly aware that you had never actually had sex in the studio. Lightly touching and horny pawing at each other is the most that has ever been achieved within these four walls but going all the way...

"Daddy- I m-mean, Mark, can we-"

"Shh- it's okay." He says, as if reading your thoughts, "It's totally fine, barely anyone's here. They all left-" while he coos in your ear, you feel Mark lightly push you over the desk before lifting your skirt. He tries to brush over the 'daddy' thing for the sake of your own pride but he can't help the way his cock twitched at your slip of the tongue.

"Holy fucking shit." His curses bring your mind to unholy places, being someone that rarely ever swears. Mark is absolutely far gone as he is quick to bring his cock out of his sweat pants and ease into you without a second thought.

"I need you to call me daddy again." He admits as he begins fucking you with absolute fervour. His hand is on your hip, forcing you to take each and every bit of him.

"F-fuck," is all you're able to say as he bottoms out inside of you. Your walls contract around him, stopping him for pulling out too far, and only swallowing him deeper until the head of his cock is pushing up against a bundle of sensitive nerves. You're left to squeeze your own breasts as Mark fucks you from behind, lost in the haze of chasing his own orgasm.

"Baby, if you want me to cum quick enough I need you to call me Daddy in that sexy fucking voice of yours. Tell me how good I make you feel."

"F-Fuck daddy you make me feel s-so"

"F-Fuck, I'm not gonna last long-" He warns.

You'repanting, as Mark begins to rut against you with little to no more constraint.

"No one slese can make you feel this good, baby?" His eyes are half crescents as he says, "Tell me you love me baby,"

"I love you, daddy- I fucking need you-"

Oh-fuck I'm going to c-cum" He exclaims, eyes squeezed shut before forcing them open.

"Oh-god, oh fuck,"

His orgasm, sparks your own. Mark hisses as he drags his cock out of your cunt before spilling his seed all over your ass. He's shaking so bad, some even reaches your skirt but he's too far gone to care.

Soon, your orgasm blazes through you like a million suns burning in your core all at once. Mark is absolutely enamored. "Back to work."

"Mark- my underwear."

"Just..." he sughs, his lips pressing against your cheek in a lingering kiss, "Get back in the booth."

[inactiveaccount-lovendeepsecrets]

Domestic + Intimate Headcanons

*Minus Caleb only because his myth and cards aren't out yet, and I don't feel confident adding him when there's so much lore and little quirks we still don't know about him. I shall make a separate post for him if this goes well.

But Hi! This is my 1st hc so please go easy on me. I believe some of the bullet points on here are canon, but I can’t help talking abt how cute this all is 🫠 I'm not the best writer and I tried so hard to be impartial, but you can probably still tell where my bias lies LOL

As always these are just my opinions!!

tags: headcanon, fluff, mostly gender neutral, but these lean towards an afab + fem!reader, 18+

***MDNI; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something nsfw despite the warnings and will be BLOCKED***

Disclaimer: I personally think all of them like praise, body worship and are humungous eaters. If the specifications aren't noted under your fav LI, it's because I didn't want this too become too redundant!

✵ ✰ ✷ ✭✮ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ ❅ ❆ ❃ 𓆰· 𓆃

Rafayel

SFW

• Has definitely set up a date where you do that TikTok trend painting portraits of each other

• Hates the caricature you two posed for at the amusement park

• On more than one occasion you've (jokingly) threatened to frame said caricature at his gallery to shut him up during an argument

• Is an escape artist. He has a long history of being captured/on the run. It’s no wonder he could easily untie himself from your ropes

• I don't think we talk enough about how rich this man is, but I think he'd be quite into second hand fashion. Think runway archives, vintage designer pieces, custom couture, etc.

• Always drives over the speed limit

• Will never tease you during your art lessons with him

• THE best bf to take pictures of you for your social media accounts. He’d suggest different poses while contorting himself in odd positions on the ground just to get the perfect angle

• Sings you to sleep

• Surprisingly good at doing hair. If you need help dying, braiding, or putting your hair in rollers, he'd actually do a pretty good job.

• Created an entire album on his phone of candid photos he took when you weren't looking

• Also made a scrapbook of polaroids from all your scenic dates and vacations together, most of them are of you

NSFW

• He’s a mermaid. He is the motion of the ocean. The hip movements? Stamina? Best (and prettiest) dick game goes to him, I’m sorry.

• LOUD, noisy, and talkative. Starts to ramble when he’s close

• Wax play? [in the submissive]

• Nipple play [in the submissive]

• Edging + Milking

• I think his open vulnerability makes people think he’s more sub leaning, but some of it’s for show

• Because of your bond, he’ll submit; but he’ll do it in such a way that you’re right where he wants you to effectively make the switch

• Make no mistake, he doesn’t mind subbing from time to time. He loves seeing you on top of him, using his body. He feels a sense of accomplishment being a vessel for your pleasure

• There was a tweet that explained how Raf would be a bit of a bully as a dom, but in the best way (recommended read)

• Chuckles and coos at you after each of your orgasms

• Isn’t into watersports, but gets a massive ego boost if you squ*rt

• Is sometimes overly arrogant about toys, but is also so obsessed with you, that he made you get molds of each other on the rare occasions you’re apart for too long

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚

Sylus

SFW

• Has asked his private chef for a one on one culinary lesson to impress you with a home cooked meal

• A patron and secret lover of the arts. Dabbles in the opera, theatre and certain musicals

• He’s*slightly* better at drawing and singing than he lets on, but loves taking the piss

• This man is so funny, but his life and profession is all too serious, making the small moments of banter more precious for the both of you

• Will also hum to lull you to sleep

• Secret polyglot

• His way of ending petty arguments with you is by throwing you over his shoulder and going to bed

• Retail therapy connoisseur

• Surprisingly handy

• He of course, only likes visiting Linkon to see you, but also likes your apartment. While it’s microscopic in his eyes, he slowly understands what small things make a home feel cozy and tries to replicate that at his

• He’s intrigued by your self care sessions and will often indulge, joining in with the sheet masks, aromatherapy, massages and waxing (he likes the heat of the wax lol). He’ll put on a brave face and deny the pain, boasting about his high tolerance

• Spoils you in general, but especially when you’re sick or on your period

• Will carry you around just cause -much like a typical cat owner who loves to randomly pick up and cuddle their cat LOL

• Would buy out a restaurant for the night and have the orchestra play a medley of some of your favourite songs you’ve discovered from his record collection

• There’s really no such thing as small gestures with him

NSFW

• Marking

• Nipple play (giving and receiving)

• Blindfolds

• Certified munch; almost loves it more than penetrative sex

• AND HE 10000% HOLDS YOUR HANDS WHILE GOING DOWN ON YOU— WHY ISNT THIS WRITTEN MORE IN FICS

• Pleasure dom. He’s not sadistic or a bully when it comes to overstimulation (unlike Raf), he’s the very definition of “will talk you through it”

• Absolutely the type to coo at the sounds and faces you make. You could not look more adorable in his eyes

• Likes watching you solo

• Your satisfaction is his priority, so he’s not intimidated by toys. That being said, he definitely owns a remote vibrator

• Phone sex. No question

• In addition to phone sex, he bought those long distance bluetooth couple’s toys that sync up with each other so it’ll react to both of your movements in real time

• In the submissive, he really loves to see you in control of your own pleasure. He’ll encourage you to use him (eg face sitting, leg humping, cowgirl, etc)

• Slight masochist; those cuffs, paddles and chains are for him 😭 he’s curious to see how far you’ll go. By the end of it all, he’ll use his evol to free himself of whatever restraint he’s under

•As far as a degradation kink, I don’t see it for him, sorry. He adores you too much to call his sweetie a “slut”, “whore”, “filthy,” and so on

• Not as rough as he appears. Really the only time he’s rougher than he realises, is when he’s biting you

• If you want it more aggressive, you’ll have to ask. Even then, he’ll be cautious not to overdo it. The last thing he wants is to hurt you

• It’s canon he loves praise. Giving and receiving

𓆰· 𓆃 · 𓆩♡ 𓆰· 𓆃 · 𓆩♡ 𓆰· 𓆃 · 𓆩♡ 𓆰· 𓆃 · 𓆩♡

Xavier

SFW

• Low-key likes to carry you around and his fav way is by piggyback ride (loves being physically close to you and the way you cling to him)

• Will fast all day just for Hotpot or Brazilian steakhouse

• Is much better at baking than cooking

• Leaves you Post-it note love letters in places like mirrors, cabinets, and drawers, before he leaves after spending the night

• Unintentional comedian. He's sometimes taken aback by your laughter, but it only encourages him to keep talking just to hear it again

• He honestly loves sharing things with you; food, books, (his) hoodies, etc. He just doesn’t like sharing YOU

• Would plan a scavenger hunt date

• Is always playing coy because he knows it triggers your cuteness aggression

• The pettiest of petty when he's upset or threatened (look up his affinity lvl 140 video call)

• Sometimes stricter than Zayne when it comes to your health & recovery. He hates to see you over-exerting yourself after an injury and has scolded you before about taking it easy

• Loves to get ready for bed with you at the same time. Showering together, doing skincare together, brushing teeth together; whatever you’re doing he’s either tagging along or sitting there watching you

• When he’s spending the night, he can't fall asleep without you playing with his hair and holding hands

• Learned your favourite flower and has been secretly sneaking into Jeremiah’s greenhouse planting and tending to a small bush of them to gift to you whenever

NSFW

• Thigh job

• Mating press

• Morning sex, specifically morning head (f receiving)

• While going down on you, he def seems like the type to keep going after you’ve climaxed, but he slows down his movements, giving languid kisses to your center to help ride out the wave of pleasure vs intentional overstimulation (though he isn’t against that either)

• It seems that the consensus on here is that he's the best eater of the LIs? I don't necessarily disagree; I'm just not completely sure if that title goes to him quite yet

• The most primal and rough of the LIs. Hair pulling, choking (safely), spanking, leashes

• Also likes it when you’re rough with him

[I know I said I wasn’t confident making any hcs abt Caleb yet, but I have a slight hunch he rivals Xavier for most primal]

• Goes feral when you say his name

• This man is a dom, don’t let the puppy eyes and bunny ears fool you 💀

• He's not as noisy as he is talkative, especially during foreplay

• BOSSY

• I don’t put it past him to feel like he’s in competition with vibrators. He’d rather him use one on you, but knows he’s being irrational

• While he’s not really into feet, he’d suck toes during missionary to see how you’d react

✵ ✰ ✷ ✭ ✧ ✸ ✮ ✵ ✰ ✷ ✭ ✧ ✸ ✮ ✵ ✰ ✷ ✭ ✧ ✸

Zayne

SFW

• Alternatively to Sylus, this man is comprised of small gestures that snowball (hehe) over time. One more meaningful than the next

• While he respects and admires your independence, he needs you to need him. He’ll never vocalise it, but he feels most useful and accomplished when you ask for his help

• Won’t let you carry any bags when you’re out shopping, not even your purse

• Like Rafayel, he also has an album on his phone with pictures of mostly you. Though he feels odd taking your picture when you’re not looking, he’s snuck in a photo or two when you were looking particularly lively mingling with the people at his work event

• Knows your go-to orders at all of your fav restaurants by heart

• Stargazing dates. When either of you are out of town for a while and are catching up on the phone before bed, he’ll tell you to go outside and look at the moon

• After a long shift at work, he’ll kneel by your side of the couch waiting for you to embrace him, hugging and nuzzling your waist

• He also secretly loves being the little spoon

• Subscribed to a delivery service that sends you flowers on your birthday every year

• There’s something about Zayne that makes me think dogs absolutely LOVE him even though he’s not particularly fond of their energetic nature

• Spoils you rotten when you’re on your period. Full princess treatment; plushie heating pads, full body massages, raspberry tea, and hand feeding you snacks. Basically Dr Zayne turns into Nurse Zayne

• He’s more lenient with your cravings, letting you have a small portion of desserts or snacks only after you’ve finished your meal

• Loves your laugh but knows his dry wit won’t always work, so he’ll just tickle you if the joke doesn’t land

• Fell in love with you after the Drunken Intimacy card. It made him realise how much he likes holding you and tending to your needs

• Doesn’t even bother lecturing you about how bad high heels are for your joints and muscles anymore. He now keeps a pair of slippers in his car just in case you start to complain

• He can never resist the urge to kiss your cheek or forehead when he sees you’re fast asleep (Canon 🥹)

NSFW

• Has a weakness for lingerie, lace and stockings

• In the submissive, he’d be just like the kitty butler in his card -the goodest of good boys

• …Feet? I’m not sure if it’s anything freaky. Kudos to whoever clocked that for sub! Zayne months prior to the kitty butler quad banner

• Soft dom, but not as gentle as his voice lets on. He’s already a bit strict with you in your relationship, and he’s the same way in bed. How is he supposed to know what feels good if you don’t vocalise it?

• The only time he’s pretty rough with you is when you provoke him. But he checks in with you to make sure he isn’t being too hard

• Once he loses his control, he gets a tiny bit greedy too (“We’re not done here. Quitting halfway isn’t something I would do” —Silent Poem Secret Times)

• His methods of brat “taming” aren’t anything over the top or domineering. Though he enjoys spanking, he thinks there are better lessons he could teach you to combat your brattiness

• Has definitely gone down on you and stopped altogether right before you climax as a form of punishment

• Shibari + Hitachi -girl run!

• Ice play

• Nipple play (giving and receiving)

• The size of your chest doesn’t really matter to him, he just really likes to hold and massage them. It’s his favourite way to keep his hands warm

• This man is so good with his hands and in more ways than one. The placement and movement of his hands in the Nightly Rendezvous card sent me into orbit. The body worship he’d do is insane

• Needless to say he’s the best at fingering

• You’re irresistible to him. He breathes you into every kiss, deepening as your bodies continue to merge. There’s no sex without passion, even the “quickies”

• Quickies usually only happen when you’ve teased or provoked him too far during (or on your way to) an event. Otherwise, he likes taking his time with you

• He knows your body like the back of his hand. He’s memorised what triggers the sounds, faces, and jolts your body makes

• Much like Xavier, he loves to hear you cry out his name

❅ ❆ ❃ ❊ ❉ ❅ ❆ ❃ ❊ ❉ ❅ ❆ ❃ ❊ ❉ ❅ ❆ ❃ ❊ ❉ ❅ ❆

[nanamis-angel]

𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐝! ♡︎

♡︎ ৹ Girl dad!Nanami who absolutely loves being a father.

♡︎ ৹ Ever since you told him you were pregnant, he was ecstatic. He had wanted to be a father for so long and he was finally getting that opportunity thanks to you.

♡︎ ৹ Girl dad!Nanami who dotes on your little daughter.

♡︎ ৹ She's a daddy's girl. How could she not be? He kisses her little forehead before he leaves for work and she's up in his arms the moment he gets back. Seeing her and seeing you after a long day makes it all worth it.

♡︎ ৹ Girl dad!Nanami who spoils his little girl.

♡︎ ৹ Okay sure, he spoils her reasonably. He teaches her to always be grateful for what she gets and for what she has. But whenever he sees a dress he thinks she'd look adorable in or a book she'd enjoy, he just can't help himself!

♡︎ ৹ Girl dad!Nanami who never misses a tea party.

♡︎ ৹ Never in his life did he think he as a fully grown man would be sitting on the floor, clinking pretty pink teacups with his daughter yet here he was and he loved it. He loved seeing the smile on her face every time. And of course, every time you see it, you take a photo to add it to the many photos of them having tea parties that you already have.

♡︎ ৹ Girl dad!Nanami who learned how to do hair once the two of you found out you were having a girl.

♡︎ ৹ He had two sisters growing up and he tried his best but by the time the two of you were married, the most he could do was a simple French braid. But knowing you'd be too tired to do your little girl's hair all the time, he stepped up and learned how. Now, more often than not, she's coming to him to do her hair.

♡︎ ৹ Girl dad!Nanami who just loves being a dad.

♡︎ ৹ The good times, the bad times, he doesn't care. He loves his little girl and he loves being her dad.

♡︎ ৹ And finally Girl dad!Nanami who is overjoyed when he finds out you're pregnant again and it's another girl.

♡︎ ৹ and who almost passes out when you tell him its twins.

a/n: I love girl dad nanami sm. I might do more because I just love him sm and I can't put all of my thoughts into one post. (hearts divider by @/s-h-o-w-y)

[undisclosedproxy]

Possessive, obsessive, aggressive T.R T.N M.R

Summary: A movie night where secrets get revealed with Y/N and the boys.

Popcorn flying through the air, laughter filling the homely manor and the television playing a long forgotten movie. This is how good life ha been living with the boys. Y/N was currently sitting on the warm carpeted floor in between Theodores legs, Tom was sitting to the right of them, comfortable on his own seperate arm chair and Mattheo to the left of them, taking up most of the couch sitting in the most annoying way so that he was touching both Theodore and Y/N.

”You should have heard her screaming Y/N” Mattheo laughed loudly basically wheezing at this point, ready to pee himself from laughter.

”Okay it’s not that funny. All we did was hook up and then she woke me up screaming, she was supposed to leave already.” Theodore said shooting a fake glare in Mattheos direction with his icy blue eyes. He continued to sloppily try to braid Y/Ns piece of long brown silky hair.

”You’re right. It wasn’t funny it was obnoxious. Actually it was downright absurd, only the lowest of the low human beings with that level of IQ-“ Tom started going on a very angry rant, most of the time everyone doesn’t know what he’s talking about when he has these moments of his temper betraying him.

”Come on tom, calm down a little bit?” Y/N asked with furrowed brows and a slight pout. She didn’t mind when Mattheo and Theodore start their friendly banter but sometimes Tom just doesn’t get the hint, or pick up on social settings vibes.

Tom huffed and looked away, he didn’t want to admit it but he cares about what she thinks. They all know it too.

”You pricks are both so fucking in love with Y/N, at this point it’s disgusting.” Mattheo chuckled loudly as he continued to throw popcorn at Tom. Mattheo draped a foot over Y/Ns head. She shot him a glare and smacked his foot with her free hand, the other trying to help Theodore braid her hair.

”Do not start.” Tom warned him with a harsh look as Tom continued to put the popcorn Mattheo keeps throwing at him in a trash bag.

”Oh, do not act like you weren’t going absolute crazy when she brought a guy home.” Theodore yelled extremely loudly for no reason which was so random. Y/N looked up at Mattheo with a confused look, then back up at Theodore who was fiddling with her hair trying to detangle the matt he had made.

”No i didn’t!” Mattheo screamed back obviously lying. He was trying to cover for himself in front of Y/N.

”You dickheads did too!” Mattheo yelled pointing at Tom and Theo. As he jumped up, the popcorn falling onto the floor, the popcorn kennels already in the expensive carpet. Tom groaned loudly obviously already knowing he is going to be the one cleaning that up.

“Well. We did not hex him.” Theodore said sassily as he crossed his arms with a huff, giving up on trying to untangle the braid.

”Yes.” Tom said dryly agreeing with Theodore.

”IT WAS LITERALLY YOU WHO HEXED HIM!” Mattheo screamed at Tom, Mattheo was met with Tom staring at him blankly.

”oh.” Tom said nonchalantly,

Everyone stared at him with a concerned look on their faces.

”Is this why no boys ever come back over after the first date?” Y/N asked with a dumb founded look on her face.

”Yes.” The boys all answered in the same nonchalant tone and all at the same time.

”You guys sound like a cult, i’m leaving.” Y/N said as she gets up off the carpeted floor from in between Theodores legs. She walks up the stairs while flipping them off as they stared at her blankly.

”Her ass is so fat.” Mattheo said while so obviously staring. He was met with eye rolling from Theodore, but obviously he was staring too because he had to re arrange his pants, and Tom just looking at him with a disgusted look as he grabbed a pillow and put it over his crotch as he huffed once again.

[saintobio]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ pretty tough, pretty dad

pairings. sylus/qin che, fem!reader tags. 700+ wc, girl dad!sylus, mom!mc, domestic fluff, sylus braiding hair, suggestive ending, loosely inspired by sylus's grassland romance banner, dividers from anitalenia.

“daddy, you’re so pretty!”

the sound of soft giggles erupted through the room as sylus sat cross-legged on the floor, his daughter perched on his lap, and her small hands holding up a brush and a few brightly colored hair clips. 

who would’ve thought that the boss of onychinus could transform into an entirely different man in these moments? sylus knew he couldn’t ever let luke and kieran see him at his current state, no. especially not when his white hair was a mess of star-shaped clips, and his face was full of tiny, sparkly stickers his little girl had ecstatically placed on him.

still, like the awesome daddy he was, he chuckled at his baby girl’s antics and carefully braided her hair, the movements precise yet gentle, despite the… well, occasional fumble. look, he wasn’t a professional by any means and the only practice he’d ever had was with you.

“pretty? i thought i’m supposed to be tough."

“nooo, daddy!” protested his four-year old. “you’re pretty and tough!”

he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before continuing to weave her hair into neat braids, like how he used to do with her mom. “well, if you say so, princess.”

and speaking of you, you were leaning against the doorframe at the time, watching the scene with an upward tug at your lips. it was moments like these that made you see another side to him—the side of sylus qin that no one else had ever seen. the man who was ruthless and intimidating to the world was, in the bright crimson eyes of his daughter, nothing but warmth and love.

“how’s it look?” sylus asked, tying off your daughter’s braid with a small ribbon.

“perfect!” the little girl exclaimed, clapping her hands before grabbing another hair clip, and this time placing it into her father’s hair. “now, you!”

“is it my turn, darling?” sylus raised an eyebrow but let her clip it in, allowing the glittery accessory to stand out comically against his pale locks. “you’re not going to make me wear these outside, are you?”

your daughter widened her grin in response, showing him exactly where she had gotten her mischief. “yes, daddy. duh!”

and so, he chuckled again, giving her a soft tickle that sent her into another fit of giggles. “all right, all right, princess. more stickers, too?”

“yes!” she grabbed the sheet of stickers, eagerly peeling them off and sticking them on his cheeks. sylus didn’t flinch, didn’t complain. he just let her do as she pleased, indulging in her every whim with a patience that surprised even you.

after a while, you came back to a room that grew quieter, and the giggles had long faded as your daughter yawned. sylus quickly shifted her in his lap, cradling her against his chest, and began to hum a lullaby

“mmmhm~ hmm~” truth be told, your husband’s singing was off-key, but you’d give him props for his sincerity and effort. and you couldn’t deny how your heart melted as you watched him sway slightly while he continued to sing even though his singing voice wasn’t the best. 

“good night, daddy…”  

“night night, princess.”

once she was fast asleep and carefully tucked in her small bed, sylus was quick to look for you in your room with a longing smile plastered on his lips. “honey?”

you met his gaze through the mirror as you dried your hair with a towel. “yeah?”

“you know,” he whispered as he walked towards you, the playful glint in his red eyes were impossible to miss, “my baby girl could use a little sibling. or two.”

“oh, does she?” you playfully rolled your eyes, feeling the heat on your cheeks as your husband snuggled his face into the crook of your neck. “and who’s going to wake up for the midnight feedings this time?”

sylus’s arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to his toned chest. “i will,” his breath was warm when he murmured against your ear, “you gotta admit i’m pretty good at this whole dad thing.”

you returned him a smile, turning around and leaning into his embrace as you glanced at the rise and fall of his chest. to think of it, since when did his arms become… meatier? “more babies, huh?”

“mm-hmm,” he hummed, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your neck, and chasing your lips the next. “imagine a house full of them—running around, giggling, driving you crazy… and me, of course.”

“we’ll see,” you whispered, unable to hide the smile that crept onto your face as he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. a gentle, innocent kiss that later became rough and wanton as his tongue explored your mouth with an eagerness that couldn’t be stopped. 

“oh, we will, honey,” he only replied as he pulled away, letting you pant in heavy breaths as he had you pinned against the wall, and about to plant the seed for the future he so clearly wanted. “and i’ll make sure you’ll see a positive test in two weeks.”

[agoodflyting]

Why Aziraphale is completely ridiculous in the Bastille scene (and I love him so much for it)

A while ago I posted a comparison of Aziraphale and Crowley's costumes in the 1793 flashback in Good Omens and I wanted to add these little tidbits. (Because they haunt me.)

I feel like most people know this but IF YOU DON'T, Paris in 1793 is right in the middle of something called La Terreur.

HISTORY LESSON If you didn't learn this in school the French Revolution was when, after years of escalating social tension, a coalition representing the working classes of France revolted against the monarchy, violently overthrew King Louis XVI, and declared France to be a republic.

The new National Convention governing France ruled that King Louis XVI and his wife Marie Antoinette were traitors to the people of France because of how they had spent ridiculous amounts of money on luxuries for themselves while vast numbers of the lower classes were literally starving to death. (keep the bold in mind - wealth and class disparities were one of the key causes of the whole-ass revolution)

In 1793 (year of the flashback) both the King and Queen were executed by guillotine for their crimes.

This kicks of something called The Reign of Terror (La Terreur if you want to be French about it). A multi-year-long period in which the National Convention goes on a bloody witch hunt for any and every member of the middle or upper classes who could even possibly be considered a traitor by those same standards.

If you A) had money or privilege, and B) had ever used your money or privilege to treat yourself, you were getting executed. Over 25,000 people died during the Reign of Terror, half of them by guillotine. In fact, the iconic guillotine was used because it was physically impossible to keep up with the sheer number of people they were executing in Paris every single day.

Some things that could get you killed (actually and completely seriously) during the Reign of Terror:

Implying in any way you were sympathetic to the monarchy

Having a noble title

Having expensive things

Wearing expensive, luxurious clothes (*cough* AZIRAPHALE)

helping or sympathizing with anyone who did any of the above

a working-class person saying you were mean to them once

And then there's this bitch...

I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME So we have established that Paris in 1793 is in the middle of a frenzied, state-sanctioned bloodbath in which the working classes are massacring everyone even remotely nobility-adjacent. And in the middle of this frenzy, Aziraphale proceeds to roll up in Paris in this outfit:

How will this outfit get him killed? Let me count the ways...

First off- at this point everyone with even the tiniest shred of self- preservation is hiding the fact that they are in any way associated with the monarchy. The wealthy are straight-up abandoning mansions. The middle-class are plastering over decorations to make their house look 'poor'. The only people dressed remotely decent are the guys leading the National Convention and that's just because nobody can stop them. Everyone else is in 24/7 peasant cosplay or else they are covering themselves in cockades and sashes on to show they're pro-Republic.

Aziraphale is basically a giant shiny white sign saying I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME.

First off the lace jabot and lace cuffs are both associated with the old-school wealthy in the 1790's.

His coat is also decorated in gold braid and silver buttons, which are both marks of wealth and luxury.

He basically looks like he works for Louis XIV - not just rich, but old school rich.

We know it's his natural hair color, but hair powdering (with clay and starch) had been a big trend with the rich all throughout the 18th century to get that clean white venerable look . To someone who doesn't know it's natural, it would very much look like he's wearing hair powder.

He's wearing shades of cream and white, which are very hard to keep clean and clearly states that the wearer is rich and can afford the upkeep necessary to keep an outfit like that stain-free.

He's wearing white knee-breeches and stockings, also called culottes. See above about laundry and how rich you had to be to wear white, but also working-class men wore long pants like this:

A large faction involved in the Revolution were the Sans-Culottes (no-culottes aka we wear long pants LIKE GOOD OLD WORKING MEN). Culottes are specifically associated with everything the revolution hated. That's right - Aziraphale is literally wearing The Fanciest of Fancy Pants in a city where a group called The Men Against Fancy Pants are running around murdering people.

And then there are his shoes.

Oh god his shoes

I could do a whole post about Aziraphale's blessed little white satin pumps and how ridiculous they are.

Actually I might just do that because this is getting so long and I still have to talk about the brioche.

So I can't remember if it's in the script book or if it's from Neil Gaiman's tumblr, but it's apparently canon (?) that Aziraphale was going around in that outfit asking people where he could get crepes and brioche when he was arrested.

The Affair of the Brioches

So... uh... we've all heard the line attributed to Marie Antoinette- how when she was told that her people were starving because there was no bread left in Paris, she famously said...

It's morphed into 'let them eat cake', but the line is first recorded as, "Then let them eat brioches."

While it's unlikely she ever actually said it, the important thing is that... people in 1793 would have thought she said it. It was used as political smear to show how arrogant and out of touch the monarchy was. Marie Antoinette in particular was reviled by the people of France, who thought she was the main cause of their economic problems. That's why she was executed too.

Bread and brioche and the lines between poverty and privilege were a big thing in Revolutionary France. There was a lot of political connotation to what you ate. The French Revolution came about because of decades of suffering among the lower classes of France. It wasn't something that some dudes just decided to do. The people of Paris have been through years of the absolute worst, most oppressive poverty and starvation you can imagine, all while watching the rich throw money around crazy.

So let us recap.

Aziraphale is dressed so ridiculously posh that he looks like a joke parody of a nobleman... and he is bumbling around Paris during the Reign of Terror. Asking people. For brioche. How I imagine everyone looked at him:

It is so astoundingly tone deaf and tactless. He is basically cosplaying as Marie Antoinette and then going around asking the poor for cake.

I just.... Aziraphale. babygirl. no. oh no. You're lucky they even bothered to take you to prison. I am amazed Crowley ever let him live that down.

I have no conclusion other than this. Aziraphale is ridiculous and I love him so much.

YES YOU REALLY SHOULD SIR.

[lukesaprince]

Ruin Me H.S

Summary: When the good girl / bad boy trope is just as hypnotic and addictive as everyone says it is OR y/n decides to get Harry's handwriting tattooed on her thigh (badboy/gang LHH trope?)

Warnings:  SMUT!! oral (f receiving), edging, spanking (with hand and belt), hair pulling, squirting, masochism, dom!harry, mocking/degradation, dacryphilia, bondage (with a belt), Injuries (black eye, split lip, gunshot wound & wound cleanup)... I think that's it 😅

Word count: 13.7k+

Author's note: This is loosely and I mean SO loosely inspired by Guilty As Sin by Taylor Swift and yeah I know what that song is about but this is based off literally one line in it... I definitely got carried away with the story hehe

- Find my General Masterlist here -

You never liked the bad boy, good girl narrative. The power imbalance and toxicity that came with someone so ruined and so problematic trying to heal his soul in someone that deserved better. She would always think she could change him, that he was just misunderstood and needed someone to love him. That his soul could be healed.

It was bullshit. Until you found yourself in that exact situation, believing just that. That he was misunderstood and so kind underneath his rough exterior. You even found yourself loving the hidden hookups and midnight cleanups. A knock on your door at all hours in the night to be let in for some charged, desperate fuck or to be fixed up because he got in a fight. 

You didn’t even know how it started, really. Harry was an enigma. A shadow in the wind that appeared one moment and disappeared the next on a dark bike just as mysterious as he was. That was how you met him, in a fleeting moment which at the time meant nothing. Until it meant everything. 

He drove by the cafe you worked at. You were closing up for the night and locking the door when the loud purr of his bike filled the entire street. You were already on edge being by yourself after the girl closing with you had to leave sick so your head whipped around to follow the loud noise. 

That’s when you saw him for the first time. He drove through the quiet street with a girl on the back of his bike that you had never seen before, both dressed head to toe in dark clothing and leather. They each had a black helmet covering their heads and yet you still knew that they were both looking at you.

It was unnerving and an interaction that had you walking a lot faster to your car in case they circled back and decided to give you trouble. Your town was used to damaged, dangerous shadows. People like Harry who came in for a night or a weekend for something illicit, only to never return. 

You weren’t sure why your small town attracted people like that, but only being a 45-minute drive from the closest big city made it the go-to place for affairs, romantic getaways, illegal meetings and everything in between.

Harry was meant to be like that too. Someone who just passed through. Until he met you.

The very next day he found himself visiting the cafe in hopes you were there. Harry wasn’t sure why he felt the need to go there since he was meant to be driving back to the city the morning after his rendezvous, but there was something about your eyes that he couldn’t get out of his head.

He didn’t even know if you’d be there and yet by some chance or fate, you were. Your back was towards him, busy on barista duty making coffees for the many customers waiting for their orders. He recognised your hair first; pulled back in two long braids down your back. You wore the cafe logo on your t-shirt and this pair of jeans that made your ass look incredible. 

You had no idea what the mystery man from last night looked like but you spent the night filling in the blanks of what was hidden beneath his helmet. Your brain seemed to be fixated on the stranger with some magical pull like you knew him already. Your body definitely seemed to like him already, that’s for sure.

“Harry? Americano two sugars.” You called out, sliding the takeaway cup to the edge of the counter before moving on to the next coffee. When the figure approached the counter, you went into your automatic greeting, “have a nice da-”, but the words got caught in your throat when you looked up and locked eyes with the same stranger last night. 

You knew it was him instantly. There was no rhyme or reason to explain it, but you knew and he was even more good-looking than you ever could’ve imagined. With piercing green eyes and a strong jaw, plump pink lips and tattoos running up both arms that had your core clenching. The most unexpected feature of all though, was his long luscious curls pulled back from his face and running just past his shoulders. 

Harry smirked, visibly seeing the wide-eyed, freeze response your body had just at the sight of him. It was a reaction he got often. He was tall and handsome and the dark clothing he wore made him appear far more intimidating than the usual curly-haired white boy. 

“Thank you, love.” He smirked, grabbing the takeaway cup before casually slipping a $100 bill into the tip jar. He was walking out of the cafe without another word, looking at you over his shoulder before he was walking down the street and out of your view.

That night it wasn’t just his face you were dreaming about. 

You never expected to see the handsome stranger, who you now knew as Harry, again but as the weeks went by he came to visit the cafe time and time again. It was always the same order and the same ‘thank you, love’ that had your head spinning and then he was gone with no idea of when he’d return again.

Then one day he took things a step further and asked you when your break was. It was the longest you heard him speak and the more words that came out, the more you found yourself hypnotised by the way his mouth wrapped around the syllables. Your coworkers warned you that men like him were dangerous and not worth the excitement and pleasure they always offered.

Time and time again you had helped your friends through some shitty breakup or worse with one of the travellers that rolled through town and you always promised yourself you wouldn’t put yourself in a situation like that. It was clear from the very first night that he was trouble but as much as you wanted to keep your distance, you just couldn’t. 

You had never felt so mesmerised by another person before. That initial burning attraction hot enough to take your breath away. In only one sit down with him, you were ready to risk it all. He was so gorgeous and charming and sweet. The epitome of that misunderstood bad boy.

Just like his frequent cafe visits, your lunch breaks soon became his. You two would sit and he’d always ask you about yourself. You did most of the talking and he did most of the listening, never giving much away of himself. He’d show up with bloody knuckles or a bruised eye but would mask the pain and simply shrug when you asked him if he was okay.

It was starting to feel like he knew everything about you and you knew nothing in return. You wanted to know everything about him. After weeks of these little interactions, he never tried to fuck you or pursue things with you or make you feel like you owed him for all the $100 tips he left. All he wanted to do was talk and if anything, that made you want him more.

Then one night… everything changed.

You were woken in the middle of the night by a crash in your living room. That would be scary for anyone, but it was even scarier when you were on the top floor and the only access points to your apartment were the front door and the fire escape out the window. 

You went into immediate panic mode, snatching the steak knife you had tucked under your pillows between your top sheet and your fitted sheet in case this very thing happened. Living alone had its challenges and one of them was the intense fear someone would break in in the middle of the night. By now you could recognise the sounds of your apartment and building so not every little creak freaked you out, but anyone could recognise the sound of broken glass and your pot plant being knocked over. 

Sticking the knife out in front of you, you tip-toed out of your bedroom and down the hallway to your living room where the noise came from. Your phone was clutched against your chest, the three-digit emergency number ready to be called in case it wasn’t your cat, Mouse, knocking things over. Mouse was a fragile little thing and sometimes got scared by the smallest things. Even setting a mug down on the bench too hard could have her jumping out of her skin. 

You prayed it was only her being skittish. 

When you made it to the end of your hallway, you pressed yourself against the wall and tipped your head out ever so slightly to look into your living room. A whole wave of emotions rushed over you at once at the sight. It wasn’t your cat, but rather a tall dark figure holding your purring pet. 

It was a figure you recognised immediately, even with his strong back facing towards you.

“Harry? What the fuck?” You hissed, turning your phone off while turning the lights on at the same time. 

“Hey, bunny.” Harry flashed a sly smile, turning to look at you. You noticed the dried blood on his lip and eyebrow instantly and the swollen ball forming on his cheek. Fucking hell. 

That smile instantly dropped when his eyes ran over you, taking in the ratty loose t-shirt and tiny underwear you were wearing. The t-shirt had a worn-out collar making it slide down to expose your collarbone and one shoulder. Your nipples were pressing through the thin material, all pebbled and hard from the cold air now blowing in from the window Harry accidentally broke on his way in. 

Getting dressed was the last thing on your mind before venturing out here and you suddenly regretted not putting pants on at least. To be fucking fair though, you never would’ve guessed Harry would break in through your window when A. you had a very suitable front door, B. he didn’t even have your number and C. you never told him where you lived. 

“What the… how do you know where I live?” You asked a little shakily, crossing your arms to cover your chest while still keeping the knife on guard in front of you.

Harry set down Mouse and she immediately ran over to you, purring while sliding her body against your calf. He walked over to you slowly and the closer he got, the worse his injuries appeared. A split lip and split eyebrow and a deep purple hue starting to form around his socket. He looked awful. 

“Are you going to stab me, bunny?” He drawled, almost mockingly. You stood your ground, trying not to show your shaking as your hand tightened around the handle of the knife. His eyes were dark and he allowed himself a final drag over your body, stepping so close to you that the tip of the knife pressed into his stomach while he towered over you. “Gonna cut me open? Give me another scar to add to my collection?”

Even though you knew you should be scared, you weren’t. He found your address and broke into your house and yet physically, you weren’t the slightest bit worried that he’d hurt you. You knew nothing about him, didn’t even know what illegal venture he did for work and yet you trusted him.

Because you trusted him, your shaking was for a very different reason. Having him in your apartment all bloody and bruised and still as handsome as ever had you completely worked up. The thought of… of doing just what he teased, of giving him a scar that reminded him of you forever… god, it was so fucked up how horny that made you.

You were obsessed over a man who hadn’t even kissed you, yet knew every single thing about you. It was ridiculous. That felt even more ridiculous than playing off this entire interaction as a somewhat normal experience. 

“I’ve got a perfectly fine front door, y’know.” You whispered, looking over to the broken window. You kept your knife against his stomach, even testing the waters by pressing it harder ever so gently into the toned muscles beneath his shirt. “And you’re paying for that to be fixed, by the way.” 

Harry laughed, wincing ever so slightly at the tinge of pain in his face. But still, he laughed. And it was golden. “I’ll pay for whatever you want,” He murmured, smirking while looking down at the knife. “I’m sure you’re very skilled with a blade, bunny, but will you put it aside for now and clean me up instead? Need a pretty girl to make me feel better.”

You looked between your knife and his eyes, reluctantly dropping your hand beside your hip. “Come on.”

Saying nothing else, you spun around and walked into your bathroom. Harry followed closely behind, looking around your apartment with curiosity before his eyes fell on you. You pulled your t-shirt down as far as it would go, but it still rode up as you walked and he found himself unable to look anywhere else.

“Sit.” You pointed to the closed toilet and set your knife down on the bench, crouching down to get the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.

Harry did as told and shrugged his leather jacket off, setting it down on the bench before sitting on the closed toilet lid. He watched you intently, saying nothing as you set up your tools to sanitise and clean his wounds. 

After grabbing some gauze and betadine to clean the open wounds, you soaked the material and started to clean the small gash on his eyebrow. Harry kept completely still, barely feeling the pinch. Your touch was so soft, so gentle. He found it more relaxing than anything else. Once that wound was clean, you moved onto his mouth which Harry found a lot more sensitive. 

“So how did this happen?” you asked softly, dabbing his lip with the small cloth. His eyes closed as he tensed, hands fisting on his knees to stop himself from getting too worked up. Pain didn’t affect Harry, at least not in a normal way. Every sting and bite at your hand was turning him on in an inappropriate way. You were his bunny, his girl. He couldn’t get hard around you when all you were trying to do was help him. 

“Oh, y’know...” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on you but not giving anything away.

“I don’t, actually.” You responded. 

“It doesn’t matter how it happened, just that I’ve got a pretty girl fixing me up.” He attempted to smooth it over with a soft smile and a loving tap on your chin. It was the most he ever touched you, a little tap on your chin or a graze of his fingers on your cheek. He never touched your knee or your hand or anywhere else. It was infuriating. 

“It does! You show up here in the middle of the night and break in. I don’t even know how you found my address but I’m cleaning your cuts and you won’t even tell me how you got them. How is that fair!? I know nothing about you Harry.” Your voice bordered on a sigh and a yell, exhausted with him showing up out of nowhere and charming you before disappearing again. You weren’t sure what to make of it and he wasn’t giving you any ideas on what he actually wanted from you.

“It’s better that way, y/n.” He looked away from you, leaning back so your fingers weren’t holding his chin anymore to keep him in position. “You don’t want to get involved with me.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. You show up constantly and-and what? Have lunch with me? Get to know me? You can’t do that and not expect me to want to know something back.” You expressed frustratingly, shoving the first aid items into the small bin beside your cabinet. 

“I want to keep you safe, y/n.” He stood from the toilet, sighing when you refused to look at him. “The less you know about me, the safer you’ll be.”

“So why do you even keep coming back if you don’t want me involved with you? It’s killing me!” You snapped, looking up at him accusatorily. 

“Because I can’t stay away from you.” He whispered, sliding his hand over the side of your neck. Your breath hitched at the touch, your body automatically leaning into it as he rubbed his thumb over your jaw and towards your mouth. Oh. “I’m so fucking obsessed with you it’s unhealthy. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time, y/n.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.” Tears pricked at your eyes, “you’re so confusing Harry because you look at me like that and say things but you don’t even touch me. You haven’t kissed me or-or anything. Just tell me what you want from me so I know where to set my expectations.”

“You think I don’t want to kiss you?” He cocked his head, turning your bodies so your back was to the basin. His hand looped to the front of your neck and it was like every cell in your body suddenly put their focus onto him. You couldn’t breathe or think or move or anything. Not when his large ringed fingers were wrapped around your neck like he was carrying a trophy. A prize to claim. “You think I don’t want to touch you?”

Harry pressed his hips into you, eliciting a gasp when you felt his long, hard cock pressed against you. He used his hips to nudge you against the cabinet, pinning you there so you couldn’t go anywhere. “All I think about is kissing you. Kissing your lips and your neck and… everywhere. The things I want to do to you y/n are so unsavoury your pretty little head would explode.”

He always thought you were this pure… innocent angel. One of the rare people in the world with no ill intentions. You were polite and sweet, even after Harry significantly brought you out of your shell since he met you. You were studying to be a nurse for Christ’s sake, some of the purest of the pure.

He wanted to ruin you. He wanted to take that innocence away more than anything on this planet. It was his built-in fucked up default program. To want what he couldn’t have. To want to destroy everything around him. 

But he couldn’t do that to you. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, even if it hurt him in the process. Harry had no light in his life, no hope until he met you and he knew that the moment this became real he would destroy you. His life would destroy you or Harry would do something to fuck it all up and he’d hurt you.

He’d break your heart. 

“It won’t.” You rushed out, “It won’t explode. I… I want it.” You could barely articulate yourself. Not when his whole body was pressed to yours. All you had been thinking of for months was having him completely dominate your body. Just to touch you and please you. Even if it was only one time before he disappeared from your life forever.

You needed it.

“I’ll ruin you.” He promised, leaning in closer so his nose bumped against yours. He breathed out a ragged breath, feeling so close to completely giving in to his desires. All of them. “I’ll destroy every good thing about you, y/n. You don’t want that.”

The scariest part of all… was that you did want it. You were becoming the exact person you didn’t want to be. A good girl sacrificing herself to save the soul of someone who might never be saved. But you believed Harry would be saved. You could fix him. Help him to get away from whatever life he lived that made him hurt so badly inside. 

You wanted to save him. 

“I do. I do want it.” You nodded desperately, grabbing his other hand to guide it towards your clothed mound. You pressed your hand over his, using your own fingers to press his against the silky wet patch on the crotch of your underwear. He swore under his breath, taking the initiative to stroke his fingers along the wet material. “Ruin me. Please.”

So he did.

He ruined you over and over again that night and for many nights after. It completely changed everything for you two. Like it was the last barrier stopping you two from being completely open with each other. You had always told him the things you told everyone else. Your likes and dislikes, the show you were watching, your workplace drama.

But your desires… your needs and wants. They were reserved for no one but yourself. Until he came along. 

Harry told you he’d ruin you and he stuck to his word. The things you did together were dirty and depraved and left you with such a feral need for the man, you would’ve let him do quite literally anything to you. As would he, you. And you practically had. Every desire or curiosity was sated and he was willing to do anything to satisfy you. 

Harry became as violently obsessed with you as you did him and even though it was a hell of a trip to see you, he did so as often as possible. He couldn’t help himself. Not when he had such a pretty girl waiting to please him and take care of his heart, body and soul. You filled the hole in his life in all aspects, which is what he feared would happen when he saw you that very first night. 

Someone so magnetic would ruin him and he was enjoying every moment of it. 

You had no idea he traveled from the main city just to see you until you two started sleeping together. He continued stopping by for a coffee or to disturb your lunch break but very quickly, your time spent together turned into an after hours activity. He’d come to get fixed up and then he’d ruin you. Or… his sole intention was to ruin you all along. 

There were many sleepless nights because of him. Not that you minded. He opened up to you more and told you more about himself and what he did. When you started to learn small things, you realised that he was probably right in you being better off left in the dark. It was a lot more elaborate than you could’ve imagined and it made sense why he did so much to keep you protected. 

Running an elaborate drug smuggling operation wasn’t exactly the safest job out there, nor did it give you much opportunity to switch careers. Somehow, though, you weren’t deterred by it. Maybe it was because you were already in love with him the second he ruined you for the first time. 

His high job security didn’t stop you from fantasising about a different life with him. Harry leaving that life for you. The only part of the job Harry liked was the financial stability and the power. The control he had. But you felt like Harry was destined for so much more, that he could live a much happier, safer life. With you. 

“Have you ever thought about running away?” You asked, playing with his long hair. It was unruly and sweaty and you were threading your fingers through the knots formed from the midnight hookup. You were still hot and sweaty too, but Harry quite liked the sticky feeling of your skin and the lingering scent of sex in the air. 

“Running away? I couldn’t.” Harry breathed through a laugh like it was unfathomable. “You couldn’t either.” He looked up from his work, reaching for your hand to bring it to your mouth to kiss your knuckles. “You’ll be a nurse soon and you’ve always had your heart set on Mercy. You’ll get a job there and it’ll be everything you want.” He smiled softly, guiding your hand back to his hair so you’d play for it while he finished the artwork on your upper thigh. 

The thin marker was steady in his hand and he only had one letter left before the piece was complete, not that four letters took a particularly long time to write. But he wanted it to be perfect, for the permanent marker to last as long as possible on your pretty skin. You’d never do it permanently, after all you were still his good girl and no good girl would be as rogue as to get her lover's handwriting tattooed on her thigh after only a few months. Or ever. Permanent marker and baby powder always did the trick to make a design last a while, though, and Harry hoped it would still be there the next time he snuck through your window. 

“I want you, Harry.” You whispered, finding his concentration both adorable and so damn sexy you were getting all worked up again. If he looked a little to the left to where your bare cunt was so so close to his fingers, he’d probably be able to tell too. “And the good thing about being a nurse is I can do it anywhere. I can…” you swallowed your nerves, unsure what his reaction would be to your suggestion. “I can work anywhere and-”

“It wouldn’t work, y/n.” He interrupted curtly, leaning back to observe his work while putting the cap back onto his pen. Harry rarely used your name, he was too fond of his pet name for you. “You will always be mine. Always. But I think we both know that what we have is temporary.” Your heart broke at his words and you felt the pain fizzle through your body like a burning liquid. He looked up at you as he blew on the temporary tattoo. “When I inevitably break your heart, bunny, you’ll move on and find someone who can love you the way you deserve. I’ll never move on from you, but you will and you’ll be happier for it.”

“That’s not true.” You all but whimpered. Harry ignored your plea, tapping against your skin to test whether the marker was dry. “You always say that you’ll break my heart, Harry but that’s not true.” He looked up at you for a moment, trying to hide the heartbreak he felt at seeing how sad you were. Grabbing the little bottle of baby powder, he sprinkled it over the little word, massaging the surrounding area of your leg. “I… I love you and I know you love me. If you loved me you wouldn’t hurt me.” 

“Bunny, I love you more than anything else on this planet.” He assured, shifting up onto his knees in all his naked glory. He spread his hands over your belly, rubbing his thumbs a little harder into your skin. “I would never do anything to hurt you but this life… it follows me wherever I go. There’ll be a time where I need to sacrifice my love and happiness to protect you. But you’ll always be mine. Until the day I die.” He smiled softly, looking back down to the pile of powder on your upper thigh. He ran his thumb over it, rubbing away from the white substance and leaving the matte four-letter word. 

Mine. 

“See?” He smirked, looking down at the ‘tattoo’, “I can’t promise you forever, bunny. But I can promise you that I’ll be yours at least until this fades. Who knows what could happen by then.”

You sat up, pressing your hands behind you on the bed for balance as you looked at his artwork. There was something so sexy about being branded like that, even if it was temporary. Your otherwise empty skin now looked complete with his mark there. In his handwriting. 

What other sign could be more clear that you belonged to him than his handwriting on your thigh stating just that? 

“I love it.” You whispered, tracing over the cursive letters. “Will you be back?” You settled on asking, pausing for a moment, “before the tattoo fades?” 

That was one thing that troubled you about your relationship with Harry. The fact that you never knew when you’d see him again. You both openly professed your love and obsession for each other and yet you didn’t go on dates or text or call. Harry just showed up. 

He told you it was to keep you safe. It was the very same reason he snuck through your window instead of knocking on your front door. There was less chance of anyone finding out about you. Whoever ‘anyone’ was. 

Harry nodded. “I should be. I’ve got a job this weekend though so it might not be for a little longer than usual.” He plastered a soft smile on his face to calm you and reached out to cup your face. “Better make sure it’s still here when I get back. Okay, bunny? Unless you want me to mark it on your skin another way.” That smile tilted to a smirk, promising you foreplay that both of you knew would have you begging him for release. 

This time you nodded, “I’ll be good f’you.” 

Shit. 

“Good girl, Princess.” Harry cooed, looking down briefly at his own cock, already hardening even after filling your mouth and pussy with his cum. He couldn’t help it really. Not when your naked body was so gorgeous and now marked with his handwriting. “now c’mere.” 

You smiled, shifting up on your knees to join him halfway in a searing kiss. It was nearly 2 am already but you knew that you wouldn’t get any sleep at all. 

The days that followed were restless. You kept looking at those four letters on your thigh and thinking of all the things you had and hadn’t done together. The many trysts you shared with hushed conversations and messy top lip kisses. How his hands felt on your body and his lips on your skin. 

You had no idea how long it would be before he came to the cafe or broke into your apartment again. There was no word from him or rumour that he was passing through town. The shadows that liked to drift in and out became known the moment they visited more than once and Harry… well he had become a regular now. 

The next time Harry snuck into your apartment, bordering on an entire week after he wrote ‘mine’ on your upper thigh, you were ready. You weren’t sure why you knew because sometimes you had no idea until you felt his presence in your bed. Mouse didn’t even meow or run in fear when he entered through the window anymore, making his entrance sometimes as silent as wind whistling through an empty street. 

But tonight… you knew. 

There was a shift in the room temperature and a lingering scent of tobacco in the air that had your core clenching just at the thought of him visiting you. Of him seeing the surprise you had for him. It was all in your head of course, a delusion brought on by obsession. Still… you knew. 

And just like clockwork, you heard the sound of your window sliding upwards just past midnight. He thankfully hadn’t broken the glass since the first night, but for him to just slink in you had to keep the window unlocked. Before meeting him you obsessively checked every lock on every window and your front door every night, fearing that one of the shadows coming through town would try and hurt you.

You’d think that getting involved with someone like Harry would make that fear worse and yet… it didn’t. Somehow you felt safer. Harry once made a passing comment about keeping an eye on you, that he always knew if you were alright. He didn’t have to elaborate for you know that meant he had hacked into security cameras or had someone he trusted watching your apartment at all times. 

6-months-ago-you would’ve been creeped the fuck out. Scared for your life that you’d allow one of the shadows to get you so hooked on him, you’d let him have a security guard of sorts around you 24/7, or even just the fact you let him so casually break into your apartment. It made total sense to you somehow because with all the theatrics and abnormal parts of your relationship came the love and happiness you got when you saw him.

Even though it was most likely your lover opening your window, you still fished for the knife under your pillow, now replaced with something pink and shiny and far more deadly. Harry decided that if you were going to protect yourself, you needed something more dangerous than a serrated kitchen knife. You treasured that pocket knife and you and Harry have had a lot of fun playing with it. 

“Harry?” You whispered, creeping down your hallway. 

“It’s just me, bunny.” His voice echoed, low and husky. 

You smiled, rushing out to find him pushing your window back down and locking the latch. His hair was pulled back into a bun, sitting messily at the back of his head and he was wearing his classic leather jacket and dark jeans. God, you had missed him. 

“You really need to start locking your window, y/n.” Harry drawled, turning around to face you. “A madman might try to break in and hurt you.” 

You giggled, throwing your pocket knife on your rug carelessly to pounce on him. Literally. He smiled and caught you easily, letting you wrap your legs around his hips while your arms wrapped around his neck. 

Your mouths joined almost instantly, lips brushing against lips in a heated exchange. You threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged until his bun came loose and his hair fell to his shoulders. He groaned at the feeling and ran his tongue against the seam of your lips, nibbling down on your bottom lip. 

“I missed you, madman.” You whispered once your lips broke, shifting in his arms. His hands supported your bum, squeezing while he devoured your mouth once more. His body was sore from his weekend job, but he’d never let that get in the way of having his girl in his arms. 

“I missed you too, bunny. So much… I couldn’t breathe without you.” He murmured, setting you down with a little wince. You noticed it immediately and ran your hands over his face, angling his head around to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bruised on his face for once, but you knew he was hurting somewhere. 

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?” The questions came out spitfire, making Harry smile down at you and set his hands on your hips. Your eyes found a dried substance at his collar and you recognised what it was immediately. “Is that blood?”

“Not mine.” He assured, “I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry.” 

You ignored his assurance and started running your hands over his chest, looking for any sign of pain or visible jerk out of tenderness. When your fingers grazed his lower abdomen, he couldn’t hide the clench of his jaw. You glared up at him, pressing harder against the spot so he’d feel a little payback for lying to you. 

Harry groaned and dug his fingers into your hips, ensuring it was hard and painful enough to leave a bruise. You didn’t mind though, in fact, you quite liked it. 

“Jesus Harry, you got shot!?” Your eyes widened when you tugged up his t-shirt to find a bloody gauze. You knew what it was immediately. You had seen your fair share of bullet wounds in your work placements at the hospital as well as the dodgy ways they tried to mend them themselves. “When did this happen?” You decided to peel off the gauze to see the wound for yourself, not trusting the temporary mend he had done. The wound had been stitched up quite well actually, but it was inflamed and a few stitches had broken. It needed to be mended.

“Did it go all the way through? Is the bullet still in here? Why didn’t you tell m-”

Harry interrupted your second spitfire of the evening by pressing his lips to yours. It was quick to shut you up, especially when he slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth and dominated his way in. His tongue slid against yours, tobacco and whiskey heavy in the kiss. 

You whimpered against his mouth, almost forgetting about the bullet wound until you felt its blood soak your fingertips. Pulling back, Harry tried to chase your mouth, needing you violently. Insatiably. He had missed your soft skin and your delicious mouth and especially missed your sweet sweet pussy. One he had a severe craving for. He could almost taste it on his tongue. 

“Bathroom. Now. Your stitches are busted.” You pushed your finger to his chest and he easily backed away. He was completely whipped by you, willing to do anything you told him. 

“Alright, bunny. You’re the boss.” He murmured, shrugging his jacket off to dump it on the couch before following you to the bathroom. You both followed the same routine as always. He sat on the closed toilet seat and you readied your supplies to treat his wounds. 

“Top off.” You instructed, using a lighter to sanitise the end of the needle you threaded already. 

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled softly, stifling a groan as he grabbed the back of his collar and pulled his shirt off his head. “You’re feisty when you’re mad.” 

“You shouldn’t have lied to me.” You shot back, sanitising the scissors next with your betadine. 

“It’s just a bullet wound, bunny.” He tried to soothe, watching you approach him and rub the wound with betadine in preparation to cut his original stitches and do new ones. “Didn’t even go straight through me.”

“So the bullet’s still in there? Jesus, Harry. Why didn’t you go to the hospital? I’m not equipped to remove a fucking bullet in my bathroom.” You snapped. 

“It’s not in there, y/n. One of my boys removed it, okay?” He chuckled softly, both loving and hating how worried you were. He reached up to cup your face, “I’m fine. The only thing wrong with me is a busted stitch.” 

You ignored him, keeping your glare strong on your face. His hands dropped to his knees and he remained completely still while you worked on the wound. He hated that permanent crease on your brow and all he wanted to do was make it go away. 

“What’s wrong?” He nudged, poking at your leg when you stayed completely silent. You were in your usual oversized t-shirt, underwear combination, but this particular t-shirt was long enough to cover your bum and the tops of your thighs. “C’mon bunny, talk to me.” 

“You’re distracting me.”

“And you’re ignoring me. I don’t like when you’re cross with me.”

“Well I don’t like being left in the dark for an entire week and when you show up you’ve been shot.” You snapped, pulling the needle tighter than you’d usually do to make a knot, just so it hurt a little more. He clenched his jaw, but he was more concerned about you than the temporary pain of his stitches. “What if you died Harry? Then what? I would’ve…” you looked away to grab the scissors, trying to blink away the tears. When you returned, his gaze was soft. “I would’ve never known. You would’ve left me and I… I’d never know.”

You couldn’t even focus on his wound with how hard your hands were shaking. You managed to cut the excess thread, but the moment it was done Harry pulled the scissors and needle out of your hand and brought your shaking ones to his. 

“Y/n, I’d never do that to you. Never.” Harry scanned your face, reaching up to cup you to get you to look at him. “I didn’t mean to scare you, bunny.” He wrapped his hand around the nape of your neck, gently pulling you down to rest your forehead against his. “I should’ve told you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” You agreed, unable to stop a few tears streaming down your cheeks. “You’re an asshole.”

“I am.” He nodded, trying to kiss you until you turned your head away from him. “I fucked up. I’ll never, ever do that again. Never.” He promised, tipping his forehead to your cheek while threading your fingers to press your hand against his racing heart. “My heart belongs to you forever.”

“I’m yours, Harry.” You promised, pulling back to wipe your tears away and get the bandage to cover his wound. He sighed and grabbed your waist instead, pulling you closer between his legs so you wouldn’t go too far. “But I need… I need something. I can’t keep waiting for you to show up with nothing in between. I can barely sleep when you’re not here.”

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll get a burner. Untraceable. Just for you and me.” He suggested, “You’ll never go a day without hearing from me again.” It was a promise. An oath. He never wanted to be the cause of your tears again, even if he knew he would be. It was why he didn’t want to keep your hopes up about a future, even if he wanted it more than anything in the entire world. 

“You promise?” You asked, running hands over the placed bandage to seal it in place. He nodded, looking up at you with a soft smile. You hated how easy it was to forgive him. But you loved when he looked at you like that. Like you were his entire world. 

“I promise. Cross my heart.” He murmured, running his hands over your waist and hips, “now will you stop being mad at me and give me a kiss?” 

Harry stood up, overpowering you with his height. Using one hand on your waist, he nudged you against the basin and used the other hand to cup the side of your neck. His gaze was dark, eyes blazing with a need to please and be pleased. He was hungry for you, just like he was since the moment he got on his bike to drive down to see you. 

“Please, bunny. Let me make it up to you.” 

All you could do was nod. 

Harry was easy to succumb to your influence, easy to follow instructions and do whatever you wanted. But he was just as easy to overpower you, to dominate you. To get you reduced to nothing but a whimper and a nod of your head. 

He was quick to duck in and clasp your lips together. It started slow and steady, a languid dance of your mouths that turned into something far more passionate. It always did. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, threading his fingers into your hair to move your face in the direction he wanted while he nibbled on your bottom lip and slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth. 

You let him in easily, loving the slow, deliberate slide of his tongue against yours. That familiar tobacco mint flavour was heavy in the kiss, a mix of the cigarette he no doubt had before climbing up the fire escape and the mint gum he liked to chew on to try and curb the habit. It never did work, but you liked the taste of him trying to stop the nasty addiction.

You pulled him closer by his hips, digging your fingers into the slight pudge just above his belt. It was one of your favourite parts of him to kiss, to bite. You had dug your teeth in it so many times Harry was tempted to get a tattoo of your bite so he could remember the feeling of your teeth sinking into him forever. 

“Wanna taste you, bunny.” Harry groaned, tucking his hand under your shirt to fiddle with the band of your lace underwear. Your hips bucked up to meet the touch, desperate to get him doing more than just play with your underwear. “Missed the sweet taste of you on my tongue.” He kissed you softly, dragging your bottom lip back between his teeth until he released it with a pop. “Always dream of it when I’m away.”

“I guess what’s one way to apologise.” You breathed, sighing when he pinched your thigh. He tucked his hands under your ass, hoisting you up so you’d wrap your legs around his hips. 

“Mhmm. I’d happily die apologising to you. Over and over.” He had this smirk playing on his lips, but you didn’t particularly find it funny. 

“Don’t talk about dying.” You reprimanded softly, playing with his hair while he carried you to your bedroom. 

“Not even if it’s death by your sweet pussy?” He grinned, lowering you onto the bed. You shuffled upwards, rolling your eyes as he knelt on the bed to hover over you. 

“For someone who gets shot for a living, you have the humour of a 13-year-old boy.” 

“And you don’t like that?” Harry raised his brow, grinning while leaning in to kiss you. You hummed into the kiss, tugging on his hair until his groan rumbled into your mouth. He pressed his weight against you, ensuring you felt every inch of his arousal for you.

He could feel yours right back. How wet you were, how warm your pussy was pressed right against his jeans. You had properly soaked through your lacy underwear and Harry could feel his jeans slowly dampen from the way he was grinding his hips against you. It was heaven. He could hardly wait to get his mouth on your sweet little cunt, especially when you were already so worked up for him. 

“Your humour is only funny…” you paused to gasp, head tilting back so Harry could nip down along your neck. “…sometimes.”

“And you’re sexy all the time.” He murmured, simultaneously pushing your oversized t-shirt up while kissing downwards. He ran his hands over every inch of exposed skin, pushing the shirt above your breasts so he could clasp his lips around one of your nipples. 

You took the shirt off immediately, whimpering and bucking your hips to meet his while you scratched at his back. He scraped his teeth against your sensitive bud, tugging and sucking hard enough to make your head spin. While he assaulted your nipples, his hands ran over your belly and hips down to your thighs spread wide underneath him. It was only when his fingers crawled to your very inner thigh ready to tease you through your underwear that he felt the thin film of plastic.

“What’s this?” His movements stopped immediately as he felt over the thin plastic film. You whimpered at the sensitivity, feeling particularly sore after your adventure yesterday. 

“I did something and you can’t be mad…” You breathed, watching him sit back on his haunches. 

His eyes widened when he got a better look, resting his hand on your thigh while he ran his thumb over the four little letters now permanently marked on your skin. Harry was no stranger to tattoos, he was practically covered in them. But the last thing he ever expected was for you to make your temporary tattoo last longer by making it permanent.

His handwriting. His claim. Harry permanently etched on your body forever. 

“Bunny…” Harry murmured, looking between you and the tattoo. “What did you do?”

“You said you couldn’t promise me forever but you could give me until the tattoo fades…” His eyes focused on you and you felt yourself already becoming pliant just with the dark look on his face. “...now it’ll never fade.”

He said nothing for a moment and just stayed staring at your tattoo. His eyes drifted upwards ever so slightly to where your pretty lace underwear was pressed snugly to your pussy. Then he looked further upwards to your soft belly and your perky tits and finally… to your face. Your pretty eyes and your lips, the lips he loved to kiss more than anything. 

Harry was back over you in an instant, cupping your jaw while kissing you like he was ravenous for it. You whimpered into it, tugging on his hair until your lips parted in a gasp. 

“Can’t believe you did that, bunny. Got a fucking tattoo so I’d be stuck to you forever.” He murmured, smushing his mouth to yours again. “That was the plan, wasn’t it? Force my hand so I’d be yours forever.” He started to kiss back down your body again, making sure his tongue pressed against your skin with every touch. 

“I love you. I want… I want to be yours forever.” You whimpered, watching him settle between your spread legs with an evil smirk on his face. 

“And you thought a tattoo was the right choice? Hm? You thought letting some other man permanently alter your body was the way to go?” He dipped his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, tearing the lacy material in two. He was completely rough with it, making sure it ached as he pulled torn pieces off your body. 

“It wasn’t a man. She… shit.” You couldn’t even find the words, not when he spread you wide and stared at you like you were some fine dessert. 

“You think that makes it better, bunny? You think who did the tattoo makes a difference?” He raised his brow, running both his thumbs up your outer labia to tease you. 

“I told you not to be mad.” You whined, pressing your hands to your face. 

“I’m not mad. I think this is quite possibly the hottest… most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” You peeked through your parted fingers, looking down at where he was looking up at you, spreading his hands to kiss at the thin layer of plastic. “So fucking sexy.” Harry murmured, looking down at it in awe. 

“So why do you sound mad?” You whispered, looking down at him.

“I’m not mad you got a tattoo, I’m mad I wasn’t there. Didn’t I always say I wanted to be there for your first one?”

“Well yes but-“

“And didn’t you promise me that I would be?”

“Yes…” you swallowed thickly. He was speaking at you in such a condescending way. Like you were a child being taught a basic lesson for the first time. It was belittling. 

It turned you on in such a feral way. He could even mansplain anything and you’d be happy to play into it. As long as he sounded like that and wound up between your thighs afterwards he could speak to you however he liked. 

“So you went against your word, hm?” He smirked as your thighs trembled on either side of his shoulders, your body growing more and more sensitive and needy as he started tracing over your pussy. 

“I guess so.”

“Do I go against my word? Have I ever broken a promise before?” 

“Yes.” You tried to defend, knowing very well he always stuck to his word. Harry had never broken a promise to you. Not when he told you he’d be back in three days or when he didn’t know but promised he’d return to you safely. He always kept his word. 

To be fair though, it was hard to stay clear-minded when he was caressing your pussy like it was something cute to pet. It wasn’t. And with every stroke of his fingers, every slide through your crease to spread your arousal up to your clit before coming straight back down like he didn’t even know what a clit was, your mind was spiralling. He was killing you. 

“Oh really?” He nudged a finger to your entrance, pressing just hard enough to slip the very top inside of you. You always were the most sensitive at your g-spot then right here, at the very beginning where all your nerves were alive and your pussy was clenching around nothing because you needed something inside. Specifically Harry’s cock. “Tell me. When?” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit and finally slid his finger inside of you, eliciting the prettiest whine. 

“Um… Uhh…” You couldn’t speak or think with his tongue slowly sliding over your clit now. He traced languid circles and waves, taking complete control and doing it all at his own pace. Harry was tasting you for his own pleasure more than he was yours, even if he did love the way you came for him. 

“Exactly.” He smirked, “So let me take my time with you. I’m owed that, aren’t I?” 

“I thought you were meant to be apologising to me? This feels like an unfair system. A bullet wound is more serious than a tattoo.” You complained, sliding your hands into his hair to try and drag him closer to you. 

After being away from him for so long, one of the longest times apart since you started dating-or whatever you two were, all you wanted was to feel him. You wanted his pleasure and the weight of his body on top of you. Teasing wasn’t fun when you were apart more than you were together.

You prayed that would change after the gesture you made. The permanent commitment to him. 

“Which one is permanent?” He grinned lazily up at you.

“You could’ve died.” You argued.

“But I didn’t. Now will you stop complaining otherwise I’m more than happy to stop. It’s been a big day I could easily go to sl-”

“No!” You jumped a little too quickly, making him laugh and press spongey kisses against your inner thighs. “No… no, please. I’ll take whatever you want. I’ll be good.” 

“Yeah?” He smirked, pressing his fingers into your fresh tattoo. You gasped, clutching his hair tighter in your hands. “That’s what I like to hear, pretty girl. Besides, I think letting me take my sweet time tasting you is the best punishment out there. Don’t you think?” 

Harry pressed a few chaste kisses along your thighs, feeling just how tense you were. You were clenching around his finger and holding onto his hair tight so he wouldn’t move away. But he couldn’t have you so tense… he needed you to relax.

“Calling it a punishment scares me…” you whimpered, feeling his tongue slide over your clit in a sloppy figure-eight pattern. 

“mh… just relax, bunny. Stop thinking and let me take care of you… you’re my girl, aren’t you? My sweet, delicious girl. My girl?” He ran his thumb over your tattoo, speaking right against your clit like he was talking to your pussy instead of you. 

“Mhmm.” 

“Then relax… you deserve to be spoiled after all you do for me…” Harry looked up at you, smiling as you forced your body to melt into the bed. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back when his mouth returned to your clit. He gently added another finger inside of you, curling them both into your g-spot in a steady stroke. They felt so deep inside of you, nowhere near as full of his cock but still so so good. 

The combination of his tongue and his fingers were driving you crazy, but he did them in such a relaxed, languid way that you knew it would take you ages to cum, if he even let you. 

“See? ‘S nice isn’t it?… you always take care of me, bunny. Always clean my wounds and take good care of m’cock… m’heart too…. Always make me feel so happy.”

“You make me happy too… scare me a lot too…” You sighed, fisting his hair as he grazed his teeth over your clit.

“I don’t mean to,” Harry murmured against you, kissing against your clit in an infuriatingly light touch. “Only want to make you feel good… feel safe…”

“You do… you do… just-fuck, please… More… Harder.”

He smirked at your begging, the whiny tone in your voice going straight to his cock. Barely a couple minutes into it and you were already getting desperate. Already tugging at his hair and starting to wiggle. 

He loved you like this because he had the ultimate control over whether or not he gave you what you wanted. At this point, it could go either way. 

“Not yet sweetheart, ‘m having too much fun just like this…”

Your back arched when he pressed his fingertips into your tattoo, purposefully digging into the soft skin. It was a small tattoo, tiny in comparison to half of Harry’s work but you had a relatively low pain tolerance and your very inner thigh was quite sensitive. It was torturous paired with the way his tongue softly stroked against your clit. 

“Please, Harry…” You begged once more, using your hands in his hair to try and drag him closer to you. You were writhing beneath him, desperate for something more than just light teasing shapes. You could barely handle it anymore. 

“Ah.” Harry tutted, slipping from your clit with a little pop of his lips. He grinned up at you, mouth and chin all soaked and dripping before pulling your hands from his hair to push them down on the bed beside you. It was possibly one of the most erotic things you had ever seen. “Y’know I like my hair pulled, bunny but if you keep pushing it, I’ll make sure you don’t cum at all. Let me enjoy you.”

“Okay…” You nodded quickly, hoping he wouldn’t stop altogether. “m’sorry. I’ll be good.” 

“Good.” 

Harry released your hands before grabbing a hair tie from his wrist and putting his hair up in a bun. God when he did that… it did unspeakable things to you. You watched him obsessively, frothing over the way his arms and chest stretched and flexed with every small movement. Up behind his head then back down to the bed when he settled between your thighs while staring at you with this triumphant fuckboy smile. 

“You’re so pretty, y’know that. So so pretty and all mine.” He murmured, tracing his finger through your crease while looking straight at your pussy with complete awe. Harry was fucking obsessed with you.

“Harry…”

“I know,” he sympathised, voice almost mocking at your flushed cheeks. He loved when you got nervous. “You’re so pretty when you blush, y/n.” He blew gently over your clit, sliding his two fingers back into you. 

Closing his mouth around your clit, he started pleasuring you again. He moved his tongue against you harder and curled his fingers into you with far more purpose than before. And finally, finally you were starting to feel that relief. It was exactly what you needed to start to feel that twist in your stomach and shake in your thighs… the rush before that euphoric release. Your toes were starting to curl and your fingers tightened into his hair, tugging so hard he had to dig his fingertips into your tattoo to ground himself from how desperate he was getting from his hair being played with.

“Oh god… I’m… ‘mgonna…”

And then the rush stopped, that spiraling wave freezing right before it tumbled over the cliff. Harry removed his mouth and halted his fingers, kissing over your thighs instead with an evil grin you could feel against your skin. 

“Harry” you protested, gasping while looking down at him. Your legs attempted to clam around his head and you tried to tug his mouth back to you but he easily overpowered you and used his arms to pin your thighs wide against the bed. 

“You’re cute when you’re desperate. Might be my second favourite look on you.” He bit down on your thigh, chuckling against your skin. 

“What’s the… what’s your favourite?” Your breathing felt laboured, skin already feeling a little sticky from being teased for so long.  

“When you orgasm… sometimes it’s when I’ve got you so far gone you’re fucking sobbing for me. Only like your tears when they’re because of m’cock.”

He was evil. 

Was it fucked up that knowing he liked to make you cry turned you on? 

“You’re so mean… you know I-oh” your words got caught in his throat, eyes fluttering closed again when he started tracing his tongue over your clit again. 

Harry started to tease you again, going back to that languid, gentle touching. He was enjoying every second of it too, moaning into you, using his spare hand to grab on your belly and your breasts. He pinched at your nipples before pressing against your tattoo, all to rile you up and build your orgasm again so damn slowly. 

Harry was nearly about to burst. You were so wet and so fucking sweet and though he loved having his face between your thighs for hours on end, it turned him on beyond anything else on the fucking planet. He had to keep focusing his mind elsewhere, on anything but the way your cream was coating his fingers and dripping down his palm, or how you were so fucking wet just one slide of his tongue through your crease echoed around the entire room. 

But then you got a little too sensitive, a little too desperate and tugged his hair so hard it slipped from the bun he did earlier. He was just as happy to punish you than he was to rest his face between your thighs. 

The pleasure stopped once more and you were flipped so fast onto your belly, you didn’t have an opportunity to try and wiggle away. He gathered your hands quickly in one of his so you couldn’t move and ignored your whine of his name. 

“I warned you once, y/n, and you didn’t want to listen…”

“Harry ‘m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise.” You protested, at Harry’s complete mercy. He pinned you to the bed with one hand, keeping your hands pressed to your lower back while he pulled his belt out of his belt loops. You wiggled beneath him, trying to get out of his tight grip only to be suddenly swatted with his belt over your ass.

You gasped at the sting, feeling the spot on your skin grow a heartbeat of its own. It was a warm spiced feeling, oozing down to your aching clit that Harry had teased all night. 

“You did this to yourself, bunny. I wanted to be nice and I wanted to enjoy your sweet little pussy but you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Could you?” Harry looped the belt around your hands then tightened it with the buckle so it was snug around your wrists. He tugged at it just to be sure you couldn’t slip out before hovering over you to kiss you gently on your shoulder. 

“Okay?” He asked, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Mhmm.” You nodded.

“Colour?”

“Green.”

“Good girl.” He whispered the praise against your shoulder, kissing the middle of your back on his way back to kneel behind you. 

Harry was quick to pull your ass up off the bed until your face was pressed to the duvet, giving him the perfect access to all your pretty holes. You were practically dripping. Already edged once with no relief and now he could just taste you and bury his face without having your hands in the way. His perfect girl.

“See…” He murmured, tracing his hands over your ass. “Isn’t this better? Now I can enjoy you in peace.”

You responded with a noise of indignation, squeezing your fists when he chuckled and spanked your ass in that same spot he whacked his belt. Your skin was pulled taught with the way your chest was pressed to the bed, making the sting heavier than usual. 

Even though you whimpered and your whole body jerked at the feeling of his palm on your ass, Harry knew you enjoyed it. Just like you enjoyed being tied up.

The only reason you protested having his belt around your hands was because you hated it like this. Behind your back or pinned to your sides or thighs. You didn’t like not being able to feel him, especially when you couldn’t see him either. With Harry always gone you just wanted to touch him as much as humanly possible when he was around him.

You always had a hand on him. In his hair or scratching his back or in his pocket or intertwined with his fingers. You just needed that touch. Craved it. And now it had been taken away.

“God, you taste so fucking good, bunny.” Harry groaned, spanking your ass roughly. He spread your cheeks wide, pulling back to spit right on your tight rim of muscles before he was sucking over your clit again. “Like a fucking dream.”

He groaned against you, nuzzling his nose right against your entrance to press just hard enough to dip into you. The way he used his entire face to pleasure you was completely feral. He’d be able to smell you for days and taste your sweet sweet arousal for hours to come. That’s exactly how he liked it. 

He was completely wrapped around your clit, sucking in that perfect rhythmic pressure he knew you liked. The same pressure that had you tumbling towards an orgasm within two minutes flat. Now he seemed to be doing the opposite of his torturous teasing. He was trying to make you cum and he was doing it in the messiest, most feral way possible. 

That was somehow more evil because you had nowhere to go. You couldn’t move your hands or grab his hair, not even hold his hand until he reached for you. With the tight grip on your hips, you were pinned in his grip. You didn’t mind though, because he was finally… finally giving you that delicious pleasure. 

You were hopeful, your entire body tense and trembling. Your mouth was gaped against the bedding, soft moans muffled into the material. Until your entire world crashed and burned when it all stopped. Again. 

“No. Harry...”

“Shh, it’s okay, bunny.” Harry pressed his mouth over your ass, sliding his fingers out of you to run through your crease to your clit. “Still green?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Then let’s keep going, shall we?”

You lost count at how many times he edged you. After five it all turned into a blur; a teary, stinging blurr where your mind was completely in the clouds and your body felt like it was melting into a puddle. You were completely heavy in the bed, legs sore and trembling and your arms aching after being behind your back for so long. 

Every touch was torture, every flick of his tongue or suck over your clit sent your mind into orbit. You needed to come so fucking badly but there was nothing you could do to get him to let you finish. He was happy to just taste you and lick you until you were reduced to a pile of tears and sore muscles on the bed.

“Please Harry… please I need it so bad… need y’cock so so badly…” 

It wasn’t the first time you begged for it, but it was certainly the first time you cried for it. You were crying softly against the bedding, wiggling and clenching around his fingers. Your nails were digging into your palms, trying to counteract the pressure your entire lower body was facing. 

“Yeah? Wanna give it to you, bunny. So fucking bad…” Harry’s cock had been painfully sore since your fourth edge, so fucking hard he got rid of all his clothes just for some relief. His jeans were pressing so tight against his cock, he could barely handle it. 

Harry was a sadistic fuck, though and he liked the pain. He liked being sore and he liked to edge himself so when he finally got inside you and got that ultimate pleasure, the entire experience was better. He liked it when he made you come multiple times, but there was something romantic about edging you until you cried then letting you finally come when he was deep inside you and about to orgasm himself. 

Simultaneous orgasms were a rarity, but Harry liked the challenge. Often it was him timing his with yours anyway. You were terrible at holding your orgasm, practically incapable of it. That’s why edging you was so fun… Harry had complete control over it. He knew the signs of your body reaching that point without you even verbalising it and knew the exact moment to pull away before you tipped over the edge. 

And even when you cried and it was sore, your colour remained green the entire time. 

“Got me so hard f’you… just need to make sure you really want it, huh?” Harry bared his teeth against your ass cheek, biting down on one of the spots his various spontaneous spanks had made their mark. Your ass was beat red at this point, covered in teeth marks and hand prints from Harry getting too damn excited. He knew it would be sore for a couple of days, but that’s what he wanted.

He wanted his memory on your skin… and now after your tattoo, it would be. Forever. 

The thought of that was exhilarating and one of the most terrifying things in Harry’s world.

“I do… I need it so bad, Harry. Feel so empty without you… so sore…” Your words all joined together, a slur of neediness and sniffled tears. 

“Oh, I bet, bunny…” He cooed, sliding his fingers out of you before sucking them clean. He then moved up on his knees behind you to gently undo the belt from your wrists. “Bet you’re so sensitive n’sore, aren’t you?” He threw the belt to the side, massaging your wrists in his hand to soothe the reddened skin.

You just nodded against the bedding, curling your fingers back to hold his hands. He sighed at the sight, leaning down to quickly kiss your fingers before rolling you on your back. 

“Aw, baby. Look at you all teary-eyed…” Harry cupped your cheek, letting your legs fall wide on the bed as he wiped the tears from under your eye. With his other hand, he grabbed his cock and guided it to your pussy, sliding the head through your folds. His teeth gritted at the sensitivity on his desperate cock and he was trying so hard to not lose all strength in his body just at that one little touch. He was the one desperate now.

“Y’look so pretty like this… fucking gorgeous you are…”

“Harry…” You sighed, holding onto his wrist with one hand while grabbing his hip with the other. Just the feeling of his cock through your folds was heavenly, a sign that you’d finally get to come. 

“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl. Like a fucking angel… shit”

His hand slid down your face to your neck, looping around it in a loose hold while he pressed his tip to your entrance and slowly eased his way in. Your pussy was so sensitive from all his teasing and he could tell too. Your cry was loud and your nails dug deep into his hip. He was addicted to the feeling. 

“Shit… oh god…” You whined out, head thrown back against the bedding. Your mouth was wide in a pant, chest heaving just at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you. His cock was always an adjustment… thick and long and fuck, every time you thought of it your mind went a little dizzy.

It ached to have him inside you without being edged so much and now it was like a hot fire in your womb. Your clit was aching, your belly was aching, and everything was so tightly strung all you wanted was just to be fucked. Even if you were more sensitive than ever, you just needed to be fucked hard into the bed. 

No teasing. Nothing. You just wanted him to fuck you until you came undone around him. 

“Fuck me… please, Harry just fuck me…” your words came in a rushed, desperate plea; your hips jutting to try and get him to move.

“Fuck, bunny. Got a filthy fucking mouth, don’t you…” Harry cursed, tightening his grip around your neck. “I’ll fuck you, alright. I’ll give you exactly what you want…”

He started rocking his hips against you, wasting no time to get to a steady, bruising pace. It was hips snapping against hips, your thighs wide on the bed while he used his hand around your neck for balance. His balls slapped against your ass and his noises of pleasure were so goddamn erotic you knew you’d never forget the sound of them.

It was euphoric. 

“God baby, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me. And you’re all mine, aren’t you? All fucking mine…” Harry grunted, gritting his teeth to try and stop himself from finishing too fast. He was practically going to burst the moment his cock slid inside you. “And this…” He pressed his palm to your thigh, heavily running his thumb over your tattoo… “is so sexy… so fucking sexy…”

Neither of you seemed to care about the fact he had fresh stitches and a fresh bullet wound because the way he was fucking you was too good to care about something that could be so easily fixed. That pain in his abdomen did very little to stop him from giving you the fucking you deserved, even if that meant he’d have to sit through another angry stitching done by you.

Hopefully, this time you weren’t as angry or as rough with him… though he wouldn’t have minded if it meant he’d have you again like this.

You couldn’t even respond to him because it felt like your mouth had disconnected from your brain. Your body was so overstimulated that your mind could barely function. But you could drag him down with two hands on his jaw and kiss him. It was messy and uncoordinated but that didn’t even matter. All that mattered was that his body was on yours and you felt the closeness you had craved since the moment he tied your wrists behind your back.

“I love you… I love you so much…” You murmured, already feeling your orgasm approach again. It hardly took any time, not when he was fucking you so good and so hard. He felt deeper than ever before, so deep you could feel that deep pit in your stomach start to churn. It was a feeling that didn’t happen very often, but one both you and Harry reaped the benefits of. 

“I love you so much, angel. My love forever and always.” Harry groaned into your mouth, gathering your hands in his and intertwining your fingers together. He pushed on either side of your head, pressing them into the bedding as he started to kiss along your jaw and neck to get a bit of air. 

The dirty talk kept spilling out of his mouth, some coherent and others just desperate strung together sentences that made your head spiral and your pussy clench around his cock. He had a way with words, both in and out of the bedroom and it never failed to knock you to the fucking floor.

That deep churning in your pit only grew and started to press right against your clit. You could feel the pressure building and building until it felt like you were going to burst. Your clit was aching; a pinching white-hot pleasure beating from it like it had its own heartbeat.

“Oh… shit… shit. Harry… ‘m gonna… ‘m gonna squirt” The words barely got out, all thrown together in a loud cry right in his ear before you felt the damn burst from inside of you. 

It rolled over you in a crash. An initial euphoric crash of pleasure hitting your body from all angles. Waves and waves of pure ecstasy made your thighs tremble and your toes curl. Your whole body shook as the first spray of your arousal hit Harry’s lower belly and with every squirt after, another jolt of electricity.

“Shit baby. Good fucking girl. Fucking hell…” Harry cursed, grinding his hips against you to try and draw as much of your orgasm through. He felt it coat his cock and the hairs at his base, dripping down to his balls until it started to dampen the bedding beneath you. “Jesus, bunny. ‘M gonna cum… Can I?...”

“Want it… want it inside, please…” you whimpered, squeezing his hands tight as the pleasure started to die down to a low beat in your clit.

Harry’s mouth smushed against yours as he fucked himself once more inside of you, groaning against you as his body trembled above you. You could feel the hot bliss of his come filling you to the brim and the sudden weight of him on top of you when he let himself relax against your body.

“Shit, bunny…” He sighed, dropping his forehead to the crook of your neck. 

You were both exhausted. Your skin was damp and sticky and the bed below you felt exactly the same. It was a mess. You were a mess and yet you were the happiest you could’ve been. Sore muscles and a fire beating on your ass and fresh tattoo meant nothing compared to the fulfilment you had just being with Harry. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered after a moment of silence, resting his chin on your chest to look at you. He needed to collect himself before he checked on you so he was physically able to take care of you and provide whatever you needed. He definitely needed to have a shower or bath with you and rub some cream on your wrists and bum.

“I’m good,” You whispered back, smiling softly at him. “A little sore but so good… are you okay?”

“I’m perfect,” he smiled and softly kissed your sweaty skin, “can I pull out now?”

With a small nod, he gently pulled himself out of you and then started your normal routine. He went to get some water and a damp towel to clean you both up and then returned to clean you while you guzzled the entire thing. Some nights you two jumped in the shower straight away, but that was only if you weren’t going to have another round or were prepared to change the sheets at the same time.

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. After you went to the bathroom quickly you returned and you both curled into each other’s arms to have your usual pillow talk. It was your favourite part of sleeping together because it was often when the truth came out or you found out more things about him. You loved that.

“I still can’t believe you did this…” Harry murmured, looking down at the tattoo. He traced his fingers over it, looking at it obsessively.

“Was it too much? Be honest…”

“What?” Harry was a little taken aback and looked up at you with a furrowed expression, “Never. Fucking unexpected but I love it,” he reached up to grab your cheek and you immediately nuzzled into it, holding your hand over his, “I love you, y/n. I don’t say it often enough but I do. And I want you in my life, I just don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

“Let me come with you.” You responded, “next time you go back to the city, let me come. I want to see where you live and… I don’t know, maybe meet your friends? Or…” you felt a little embarrassed at the next words that came out of your mouth, but you weren’t exactly sure how else to say it, “work colleagues…”

Harry cracked the biggest fucking grin at how you phrased it, but he tried to not laugh so he wouldn’t embarrass you. “Alright. Tomorrow. I’ll take you back with me.”

“Tomorrow?” You blinked, not expecting him to just willingly agree like that.

“Yes. I don’t have a job until Thursday so we’ll have a couple of days together. But that’s only if you don’t have college or wo-”

“I don’t.” You interrupted quickly, knowing very well you did have university and work. Harry knew that too, he just wanted to see if you’d really skip a few days of responsibility for him. “I’d love to go.”

Harry smirked, nearly getting all worked up again at the thought of his angel skipping classes just to spend time with him. “Good…” He then cleared his throat and sat up so he could look at you, “I want you to have this.”

He removed his signature cross necklace from around his neck and motioned for you to sit up as well. “Harry… I couldn’t”

“You can.” He pressed, placing the necklace over your head. He eyed the way it fell right between your breasts and pulled your hair out from underneath it so it wouldn’t get tangled. “Always wear this, y/n. I mean it. The moment I take you into the city there will be people who care that you know me and they’ll use it against me.” Harry played with the cross between two fingers, rubbing his thumb over the front of it, “Wearing this… it’s a protection.”

“How?...” You whispered, looking between the necklace and his gorgeous green eyes.

“Because this-” his hand fell to your thigh, squeezing over the plastic film of your tattoo, “-tells me that you’re mine and this-” he grabbed the chain again, tugging it ever so slightly, “tells the entire fucking world.”

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