#i love when he does that with his arms in the first one
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Well, are you mine?
Pairings: Sukuna x fem reader
Summary- You're Yuuji Itadori's best friend since forever, and his older brother Sukuna is a grade A ass to you. After a nasty breakup with your ex, you text Yuuji who's out for the night, he gives you the go ahead to stay at his place. But it's only Sukuna there, and he is oddly comforting? You've had it bad for him forever, but little do you know, so has he, even if he doesn't show it, because Sukuna thinks Yuuji loves you (ahem, he's WAY wrong) Porn w/feelings, best friend's brother trope, Duo POVS
CW- Modern Sukuna, he's a gamer and tsundere af lol, this is SMUTTY asf, loss of virginity (don't mention much abt it aside from reader is one) Sukuna is ROUGH lol, oral sex (m and f recieving) overstimulation, dirty talk, Sukuna calls reader brat and slutty, lowkey breed kink, possessiveness, marathon sex lol. Sukuna is BAD AT FEELINGS lmaooo, but he whimpers? Reader- 20, Sukuna 25- 6.4k WC!
Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one!
You’re walking out in that pathetic excuse for a tank top and the most revealing shorts that morning when Sukuna sees you, peeking up from his monitor, proceeding to get sniped like some damn noob when he sees your nipples perk up through the material. He curses loudly, slamming off his headset then, you look at him in surprise, lips parted just so.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, he glares at you then, standing up as he takes you in, irritated you have such an effect.
“What are you doing here? Yuuji isn’t even home until tonight.” He says with a glare, ruby eyes glinting, you tense just a bit, Sukuna is tall and intimidating, and constantly an asshole.
“He said it was fine, here’s the text.” You swipe up on your phone, he snorts as he looks at it.
“You have a teddy bear case? Stupid.” Your eyes narrow in irritation when he picks up the phone, scoffing as he sees the texts. “God. What a simp you’re making him.”
“What now? Am not even! He’s my best friend, not that you’d understand, you don’t even have any. You’re such an ass.” You snatch your phone back from him, earning his scowl.
“You’re an annoying brat, y’know that? If Yuuji didn’t simp so badly I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”
“Whatever! Ugh.”
“Why’d you need to come here anyway? Boyfriend piss you off?” You sigh, crossing your arms, just pressing your breasts up more for his view.
“He cheated on me.” Sukuna pauses then, hearing the hurt in your voice, seeing it on your pretty face, annoyingly pretty face.
“Shit.” Is all he manages, and you sigh, looking at him then, emotions in the back of your throat.
“That was mean of me to say, that you have no friends. I know you do… I��m sorry I said it.” His mouth opens, then closes, his brows lowering.
“You’re always bitchy to me, it doesn’t surprise me.”
“And you’re always an ass to me.”
“Tch, I’m not gonna fawn over you like your little best friend does, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, every time I stay or hang out you tell me you can’t wait for me to leave, or are just mean as shit.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, looking up at the ceiling then, it’s true he is mean to you constantly.
Every time you stay, he’s picking on you or making snide remarks, to the point he’s made you cry sometimes, and then felt like shit. Nothing was worse than seeing you cry, but he didn’t know what else to do, because you’re haunting his every dream, even last night he was stroking his cock to a stupid Instagram picture of you.
The thing is, Sukuna wants you, and wants you badly, so much it makes him pathetic, his little brother’s best friend, who Sukuna knows has had some stupid crush on since forever. Sukuna’s only five years older than you, but twenty just seems too young, you seem too inexperienced, too innocent and sweet, the last thing you needed was him around you.
And he knew you had some little crush on him, most of knowing him, you used to literally make doe eyes at him, he found it sort of cute at first, but now you’re a whole woman, walking around in nothing half the time. He was happy you got a boyfriend, despite the odd clench in his chest from hearing it, only because he wouldn’t have to see you as much.
So, the best course of action?
Make you hate him, and he thinks it’s worked, you don’t make doe eyes, you’re not fawning over him, or pathetically trying to flirt. No, you’re just as mean to him as he is to you now, god and you scowling and flipping him off? That turns him on more than fucking anything, unfortunately.
“Fuck him.” Sukuna says, and you’re shocked for a moment, as you stare up at the guy you’ve had it bad for since you can remember, Yuuji’s older brother, you thought he was so cool, you were always coming over more and more to see him.
Yuuji was the best friend in the world, so it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy hanging out with him, it’s just your mind kept wandering, Sukuna was always a grump, but something shifted in the past couple of years, especially this year. He was downright mean and nasty to you, making jokes, pinching on you, ruffling your hair, rolling his eyes whenever you were near.
If his goal was to make you hate him, you don't, you just really can't stand him. Can't stand seeing him shirtless seeing the tattoos around his biceps, down his strong chest, hate seeing his stupid abs that have abs!?! Why does he have to be such an attractive ass, you don't know, but your crush hasn't gone away.
It's worse.
Last night you'd seen Sukuna was here when you'd used the key Yuuji let you have, he was crashed out on the couch sprawled out, movie ended, you'd covered him with a blanket and given him a pillow. In his sleep he almost looked sweet, you thought, having slept in the guest room, he'd swirled in your mind, your boyfriend having cheated hurt, but thankfully you hadn't taken that step with him…
No, you stupidly still wanted Sukuna as your first.
As if that would happen, he hates you so much clearly, and you have seen the girls he brought over, older and more experienced, more confident and worldly. You weren't there yet, especially when the man you're wanting doesn't see you as anything but a little brat.
“Sukuna, are you comforting me?” Sukuna scoffs.
“Of course I'm not, but also… he's a fucking idiot. You don't deserve someone who does that shit.” You blink back tears then, stepping to him, hugging him.
Sukuna freezes, as he inhales that scent, something floral and irritatingly delicious, your soft breasts pressing against his chest, your nipples taut under the tank top. You're tiptoeing, holding him around his chest, he grimaces, wanting to pick you up and drag you to his room, but he shoves at you.
“Annoying brat, off me god.” You shake your head, snuggling closer, when he realizes you're crying. It annoys him how you wrench his heart when you look up, tears falling out of your stupidly pretty eyes.
Did you have to affect him this way?
“Thank you, Kuna.”
“Don't call me that, ugh.” He places his huge hands at your waist to shove you off, but you gasp at it, taking over your waist, burning your skin then. He falters, his breath coming faster as he holds you there, just a little off of him, eyes going to your lips, tempting him to no end. “Stupid nickname.” He grumbles.
“I… you used to not mind it. What happened to make you hate me so much?” You whisper, hands slipping up his chest, so much revealed in the soft white shirt he's wearing, you feel his heart thudding under your hand.
“Don't hate you, just you're annoying.”
“How?”
“Just being here.”
“So I annoy you just existing?”
“Yes.” He speaks through clenched teeth, when you lean back, and he views your body. “Why do you fucking dress like that!?”
“It's comfy. What do you care, Kuna?”
“Stop it with the stupid nickname. Your… your body annoys me.” He is whispering now, hands slipping down your hips, you let this little sound out from the back of your throat that destroys him then.
“My body, what not your type? Don't wanna see it?”
“You're so fucking stupid.”
“How can a body piss you off? Ah!” Sukuna had you picked up now right on the kitchen counter, your breaths come in pants at getting handled like this, his big hands on your thighs, his eyes boring into you.
“All I can think about is all the ways I wanna fucking ruin you for any stupid boy you'll ever meet.” Your heart thuds in your chest, blinking rapidly as if you're in a fucking dream.
“Wh-what?” He moans softly, rough pads of his fingers slipping up your thighs, watching the goosebumps rise everywhere.
“Thinking how good your little pussy tastes, how pretty your tits must be, how your face would look fucked out.” You're moaning out loud when he finds you then, lips hovering just an inch from yours, he moans when he finds your slick cunt dripping, he laughs then, softly. “That wet for me? Haven't even done shit.”
“Shut up and touch me, please, Sukuna.” The way that his name sounds from your lips? Your eyes dilating? Your wet cunt on his fingers? His cock starts throbbing from touching you, watching your face when he shoves a finger in your hole, you grip him like a vise.
“Anyone ever made you cum? Any of your dumb boys?” You grip his wrist when his fingers curl in your gummy walls, finding that spot instantly and pressing on it, making you gasp as you gush down his fingers. “Fuck you're wet, why are you so stupid tight, fuckin feel you…”
“Don't know… I… Kuna, m’a v-virgin, ngh!” He yanks away then, panic on his face. “Don't stop, please.”
“A virgin, how the fuck?” You whine out as he backs off, sucking you off his fingers, his cheeks moaning, those crimson eyes dilated, the hottest thing you have ever seen. “Why do you taste so good? God I can’t stand you.”
“Kuna, please… just…”
“No, I won’t do that, I sure the fuck won’t take that. How are you even…”
“I’ve been waiting.” You murmur, earning his brows raised, barring you on either side with his strong arms, leaning close.
“You what now?”
“For you, stupid.” Sukuna cups your face with one hand, hot as your overheated cheek, so close your breaths mingle.
“No way, I’m not doing that, it’s bad enough I even touched you, now you’ll be all I can think about, annoying little brat ruining me.” His words hit, your pussy throbbing around nothing then, you lean your head and kiss his palm, melting him as you do. “Don’t do shit like that.”
“Do you want me?” You ask, thighs on either side of him.
“What do you think?” He grabs your hips, and you feel him, huge and hard against you over the fabric of his pants and your shorts, he grabs you tight, you’re looking at those lips, usually in a smirk or a sarcastic grin, so pouty right now, begging for your kisses.
“Doesn’t have to be anything serious-”
“How can you say that? No, it would be.” You would end him the moment he got inside you, he already knows it, tasting your sweet arousal on his tongue, looking at the color your cheeks are tinged, imagining your face as his cock leaks precum against his boxers.
“I can be… casual…” You’re grinding on him, you’ve never felt this, the longing for him in this way, you’re jutting your chin up, trying to kiss him, but he pulls his face away, shaking his head. “Kiss me.”
“No way.” He won’t be able to stop, at least at this point he can rip himself off of you, taking several breaths, turning away from how delectable you look sitting with your thighs spread on his counter.
“I’ve seen all the women you bring over the years, why not me? You clearly are casual about it?” You hate the emotions in your throat. “Am I not…”
“If you say some dumb shit like you’re not attractive, I swear you’ll piss me off. Look at you.”
“You won’t look at me.”
“I can’t right now, I won’t just fuck you, especially your… first I… can’t. Just drop it, just forget it even happened.” You jump off the counter then, breathing fast, heart nearly pounding out of your chest.
“I’m sorry I asked.” He curses as you run off to the room, his head is spinning from your scent, your taste, the images now burned in his brain, your slick still on his fingertips.
He could never just take your virginity, what if he hurt you? What if he hurt you emotionally, he sure his entire life has never had a real girlfriend, he’s had hookups and booty calls, that’s it. And for the past year he’s pictured you half the time when he’s played with himself, when he’s slept with them, but he can’t do that, you deserved better than him surely.
You’re all dressed now, you stand there and look at him, he hates the tears that have streaked down your face, your bag on your shoulder. “You don’t have to leave, just leave me alone.” He says then, and you laugh without humor, shaking your head.
“I can’t face you after that, too embarrassing. Don’t even tell Yuuji I came over, please.” You go to leave and Sukuna stops you, a hand on the knob above you, his hard body towering behind you, you feel so small next to him, god who didn’t?
Sukuna runs his fingers down your spine, you shiver from the sensation, he leans close, his lips against your ear. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
“No?” You look at him then, noses touching, so close.
“Everyone wants me, it’s fine brat.” He smirks, you glare then, smacking at his hand on the knob and pulling open the door.
“Fuck you, Sukuna.” You say, he grins at you like the asshole he is, but when you shut the door behind you, you don’t see him cursing himself, forehead resting on the door, his stomach sick.
Why’d he do that?
Why couldn’t he just give you what you wanted, what he wants so badly?
He’s terrified to disappoint you, but he already has.
*****
Two Weeks Later
“Please stay for dinner!? Please, please, please!” Yuuji begs you, literally on his hands and knees bowing, you giggle, shaking your head.
“No, I can’t… your brother-”
“He won’t bother you, he just yells at the game, it’s fine! Never used to bother you, and I miss you.” He looks up with sweet honey eyes, making you sigh then, nodding, he jumps up all excited. “Perfect, I need to show you the recipe my brother Cho showed me!”
“How is he? I miss him.” You say softly, Yuji’s other brother lived far away now, he was a sweetheart, much unlike Sukuna.
“He’s doing so well, his band is so popular now. I’ll tell him you said hi! You know he thought you were so pretty.”
“Cho did? No way.”
“Well who doesn’t, even Sukuna does.” You pause then, faltering as you look at the kitchen, where he’d had a long, thick finger inserted in your little hole. Where he’d tasted you.
“Um, I doubt all that. He hates me.” Yuuji shakes his head, checking his phone then. “Your girl?”
“We’re not dating yet, just talking, but we are going to a movie tonight. You know her, yeah?”
“Yes, she was so sweet in school.”
Sukuna walks in as Yuuji shows you their texts, his eyes darting to you, taking in your little pleated skirt and top with some dumb anime character you liked on it, you looked fucking adorable. So cute he hates it, so he scowls at you, earning your scowl right back, as Yuuji looks between you both.
“Woah, calm down. Sukuna, I have a date!” Sukuna’s heart drops, Yuuji surely would be good enough for you, he’s sweet (annoyingly sweet) and devoted. Choso and Yuuji were sweet, he’s not sure how he got all the asshole of the family, but he supposed it came from taking care of them both, being the oldest.
He should be a little relieved, you’d leave him alone now, right? You wouldn’t give him that look, he would finally know you’re untouchable, he clears his throat now, hating that his heart feels like it’s ripped in half. Just two weeks ago, the last time he saw you, he’d felt your heat, he’d had you begging for him, but he turned you down.
He did this.
“Finally, you two are going on a date, huh?” He says, trying to act casual, and Yuuji snorts, shaking his head, as your eyes go wide.
“Us, no! We’re too close, we’d never ruin our friendship. Though I sure asked her out a lot in school.”
“You tried.” You say with a little smile, as Sukuna stands there dumbfounded. “You’d never have liked dating me, I hate your zombie movies too much.”
“You have the worst taste, it’s true. Now, Sukuna, it's this girl…” Yuuji starts going on, and Sukuna can barely hold his composure, as he shows him a picture of her, as he’s rambling.
He was convinced his brother was in love with you, it’s a huge reason he has pushed you so far away, he’d never dishonor him like that, even if he knew you didn’t feel the same. He struggles to focus now, as you look down nervously, as if you could hear his thoughts, feel what he wants so badly.
“Thought you simped for the brat here.” He says, Yuuji laughs.
“No, she’s just a beautiful best friend.” He kisses your cheek and you smile warmly at him, it lights up your face, doing the annoying thing to his heart again. “If you’re not so mean, maybe she’ll stay for dinner.”
“Me, mean? Never.” You and Yuuji both roll your eyes at him.
“I don’t have to stay, Sukuna, I was just stopping by.” Your words break him down, remembering how mean he was, and he didn’t apologize, why should he though?
He should have said something.
You’re feeling his gaze on you, as he runs a hand through his pastel locks, the same shade as Yuuji but his are longer, messier, he has a little stubble on his cheeks you don’t remember seeing. As you further look, you see the dark circles under his eyes, how tense he is when he opens his mouth, just to close it, and re open it again, as if he doesn’t know what to say.
Sukuna is… on edge?
“You can stay, what do I care? Used to your ass around anyway.” He walks to his room then, and Yuuji excitedly talks to you, but your mind is in that room, with that asshole of a man.
The dinner is awkward as fuck, and when Yuuji leaves to get ready for his date, you hastily start washing your dish, you feel his gaze on you, he’s leaned back in the chair with his legs wide. You don’t dare say a word to him, you’re too mortified still, too confused, his one touch with no kiss has done more than anything you’ve experienced so far.
Awakened shit that was already there.
Made it worse.
“So you two never…” Sukuna trails off, leaving the question open, you look back at him as you dry your hand with a dish towel.
“Never what, dated? Of course not.”
“I thought the kid had it bad for you.” His voice is quiet, you clear your throat, shaking your head then.
“No, I tried to tell you, just friends. Yuuji is sweet and I love him, but I’ve never felt that way… like I…” Like with Sukuna. “Yeah, anyway, the girl is so sweet. I’ll head out when he does, don’t worry.”
Sukuna’s standing next to you before you can blink, he’s wearing this black dress shirt unbuttoned just so, revealing too much of his strong chest, pecs that are ridiculous, your eyes keep darting to it. To those collar bones, the black lines running along, making you wonder just where his tattoos stop, you physically back up, looking away then, unable to even look in his eyes.
“Running away, brat? Scared?” He raises a brow, you blink then, shaking your head. “Yeah you are.”
“Scared of what?”
“I’m ready guys! Oh… are you two gonna… hang out?” Yuuji asks with a little smile, you’re blushing then, shaking your head.
“Hang out with him? What, no.” Sukuna’s jaw clenches now, you smile as you feel how mad he is. “What?”
“What’s so wrong with me?”
“You’re an ass.”
“You’re a-”
“Okay, dumb question, don’t kill each other.” Yuuji does a little spin then, showing off his outfit, you giggle. “How do I look?”
“Amazing!” He kisses your cheek and hugs you then, just the sight of that alone has Sukuna infuriated, imagining kissing you.
What do your lips feel like?
Would they end him?
“She’s staying, she’s gonna… game with me.” Sukuna says then, you and Yuuji both look at him with shock. “Yeah, brat wants some lessons on Call of Duty.”
“Lessons? You game?” You want to burst out in laughter, the only video games you play involve very hot men on your phone.
Sukuna eyes you though, so intense it’s hard to breathe, you smile then, a little shy almost, realizing what he wants even though he’s not saying it. He wants to spend time with you, this shithead, this asshole of a man, he’s… he’s trying to express that he wants you to stay. And, to stay alone with him.
“I do wanna learn though, plus we should try to get along, hmm?” You look right at Sukuna, he’s not smirking or grinning, he’s vulnerable for a moment. His full lips parted just so in surprise.
“This makes me so happy. I love you both so much! If he pisses you off too bad, just text me.”
“What would you do, kid?” He demands.
“I’d… well I’d tell you to be nice.”
“I love you too.” You tell Yuuji then, and he runs off now to his date, leaving you alone in the kitchen again, with Sukuna. “Video games, huh?”
“Video games.” He answers, and before you know it, he’s right in front of you, gently holding you by your face, in a sweet manner you’d never think he could. “I want you, fuck I’ve wanted you for a long time now… but I thought you…” He’s trailing off, words escaping him.
“You thought Yuuji loved me, and you couldn’t do that.” You answer, everything starting to click now.
“That and you irritate the shit out of me. I don’t like what I feel.”
“What do you feel, Sukuna?” You step forward, arms wrapping around his thick waist then, he gulps visibly.
“Too much.” Is all he says, eyeing your lips hungrily.
“Maybe I feel too much. It’s scary, yeah?”
“I’m not scared of shit.” He’s leaning closer, you’re aching for him to just kiss you, licking your lower lip, tantalizing him as it turns glossy.
“If you’re not scared, then why are you so afraid to kiss me?” You whisper the words, his eyes flutter shut, a hand gripping your hair then at the nape of the neck, pulling it just so.
“Because I won’t stop there, I won’t stop till I’ve kissed every part of your body, till I’ve licked every part, until you’re cumming all over me.” Your little whimper from the back of your throat ruins him, he slams his lips down then, and it’s over.
Your kiss is messy, it’s desperate and sloppy, your tongues dripping saliva as he lifts you suddenly, you cling to him, thighs squeezing narrow hips, arms around his neck, your hand drifts through his undercut just so. He’s moaning as he kisses you so brutally, carrying you until you’re against a wall, pressing you there, you gasp for a breath while he starts licking down your throat.
“Kuna…” You’re arching against him, clinging tightly as he bites your throat, his big hands gripping your ass and squeezing.
“Hate that nickname. Hate how much I like it. Fuck you.”
You scowl, pulling away. “Fuck me for what?”
“Being so stupidly pretty. Driving me crazy forever. Fuck you for tasting so good, too.” You’re opening your mouth to protest, but he’s already carrying you to his bed, unceremoniously plopping you down on it, yanking off your top then, your breasts heave as your breaths come quickly, and he eyes you. “Fuck you for perfect tits.”
“Fuck you for being a dick.” You counter, but he’s gripping your breasts in his huge hands, squeezing them, sucking on your nipples, your hands enwrap in his pastel locks as he looks up at you, saliva strings dripping from your breasts. “Fuck that… feels s’good…”
“Fuck your sexy little moans, too.” You can’t be mad, not when he’s got your skirt off you, not when he’s ripping your panties to shreds, not when he eyes your pussy hungrily, shaking his head as he nips your inner thigh. “And fuck if you don’t have the most perfect pussy, what the…”
“Kuna, you’re c-crazy.” You whisper, he laughs then, breath tickling your cunt as he parts your plump lips, inhaling you like some psycho, burying his face. “Kuna!”
“Shut up, brat. Gonna ruin you for anyone.” He’s talking to your pussy it seems now, strong fingers pressing your thighs apart as he swipes a stripe up between your lips, licking you all the way from your hole to your clit, the sensation has your hips jerking, which he pins in place. “Ah- ah brat, stay still.”
“S’too much… I… oh my god.” Sukuna is devouring your pussy, there’s no other term for it, the way he laps at your pussy with his stupidly long tongue, his eyes bright red when they look at you, when he flicks it to your clit. You’re soaking him, hands pulling at his hair, earning his groan against you. “Wh-what… you’re… I…”
“Shut up, brat, I want to hear you cum, not run your mouth.” You should be offended, but you can’t be, not when he’s fucking your velvety walls with his tongue now, pinching your clit with two of his fingers, the stimulation far too much, you feel it, the pressure building in your core, spreading.
“Kuna!” You’re screaming that nickname, he doesn’t care in fact he loves hearing it, loves your pussy drooling around his tongue, he feels your walls tighten around his wet muscle then, looking up at your face, mouth open wide in an O, eyes rolled back, your hands yanking his hair out, and he knows you’re cumming for him.
He’s grinding his cock on the mattress, aching to be inside you, but he also wants to make you beg for it, wants to make you pathetic for him, only him. You’re cumming so blinding, stars bursting everywhere behind your eyelids, your body convulsing as you’re gushing all over his handsome face. You feel his grin against you when he pulls back his tongue, slipping two fingers inside.
“Hear how slutty she is, huh? So slutty thought you were a good girl.” He huffs, you’re reeling from cumming so hard when he quickly finds your g spot, as if he knew your body forever. “Can’t talk? Pathetic.”
“F-fuck… you I… it’s too much!” You whine, he’s scissoring those two fingers in and out of your now soppy little hole, you do hear it, the wetness so fucking loud, he’s licking your clit now, sucking it into his mouth, you’re pushing over the edge again. “Both!? I c-can’t!”
“Mmm, you can, cum again, pretty slut. Lemme drink it.” You’re trying to close your thighs, but he forces them open, smacking at one, shaking his head. “Again, y’can do it.”
“S’too much…” You’re whining over and over, it is so much pleasure you have trouble comprehending a thought, when he crooks his fingers in your gooey walls, and sucks your clit again, you’re shattering.
“Mmm, there you go, you can do it can’t ya?” He’s cooing to you, smirk on his features, that are coated in your slick.
“Please!” You’re yanking him up, he chuckles a bit, letting you, hovering over you with his strong arms, as he wipes your chin with one hand.
“You’re fucking drooling, god, fucked out already? Can you handle me?” He raises a brow, you want to retort, but you are fucked out, you came more than you ever have, now you’re opening your mouth and closing it. “Can’t talk, stupid brat?”
“F-fuck off… ass…” You manage, earning him more hard for you, kissing you deeply, you taste yourself then, but even more when he shoves his fingers in your pussy, scooping out more arousal, shoving them in your mouth.
“Suck them like a good girl, there ya fuckin go, pretty little slut.” You’re in tears from overstimulation as you suck him eagerly. “So ya can follow directions, ha… didn’t know that mouth could shut.”
“Shut it.” You whisper, pulling back with a pop, he falters at your seductive words, shaking his head.
“You sucked dick?”
“N-no.” You admit, he sighs then.
“Look, maybe not the first time.”
“Sukuna, are you being caring?” You tease, his brows lower, lips pressing in a firm line.
“No! Just… you need a lot of workup and… will you stop smiling like that!? Stop looking at me that way.”
“Like what?” You tease, hands unbuttoning him shakily, he pulls back then, taking a breath as he looks down at your pretty body, and you reveal more of his chiseled frame.
“Like… that. Like you’re…”
“In love with you?” His jaw tenses again.
“Shut it, now.”
“I am, stupid ass. Don’t know why.” You sit up when he stands, eagerly unbuttoning his pants, his heart races like he’s the virgin, brain short circuiting when you slip them down, his boxers following.
“I… you… shouldn’t…” He doesn’t remember what he was saying, you’re too sexy, too pretty, your words he’s never thought he’d hear. “You don’t love me. Don’t say it.”
“I do, and I will say it.”
“Then why did you ask for… casual!?”
You’re blushing when his cock is revealed, and it’s massive, thick and heavy, his reddened tip drooling precum. It’s so big you can’t understand how it would fit, your hand barely circles the girth, looking so tiny against him, he’s ridiculously big. You nervously look up, seeing his eyes dilated, his lashes lowered, Sukuna’s hands come to enwrap in your loose hair, gripping it.
“Answer me, brat. Now.”
“Because if that’s how you want to, I’ll do it. I want you, I have wanted you.” He exhales, jerking when you lick his tip.
“I don’t want to be casual with you, okay!?” You smile, he rolls his eyes. “Don’t you dare smile like that. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna be all mushy and dumb.”
“I don’t want to be casual either.” He cups your face with his other hand, groaning when your hot mouth starts sucking him in, there’s too much of him, you barely get the tip and an inch or two, swirling your tongue, tasting the salty precum, his musky scent filling your nostrils.
“F-fuck…” Sukuna’s stuttering, you swear you hear him whine, but you wonder if it’s a trick of your ears, his hand on your face shaky when he starts thrusting his cock in your mouth, eyes locked on yours. “Stupidly pretty brat.”
He might as well say ‘my love’ or ‘darling’ because your body reacts, already having had so much pleasure you’re wet again, when he yanks you more on his cock, shoving it deeper. You’re breathing through your nose as he fucks your throat, as he’s gasping and moaning out your name, you finally think you have a rhythm when he pulls you off.
“Was it okay?” You ask nervously, he shoves you on your back, between your thighs in an instant then, you gasp for breath.
“Okay? Sucked it like some pro. You lyin’ t’me?” You giggle, shaking your head and catching his gaze.
“Watch porn though.”
“Porn ain’t shit to what I’m gonna do.” You’re crying out as his tip leaks precum along your clit, biting your lip when he’s pressing into your tight ring of muscles, your nails dig into his back, feeling the taut skin. “If we do this, you’re never fucking anyone, never. Fuckin got me brat?”
You blink a bit, as his tip presses in, stretching your skin. “You love me too, don’t you Kuna?” You tease, he scoffs, but then nods just a bit, and kisses you, pressing past your barrier, you gasp at it, at the pain, being stretched by him. “Ow! Shit!”
“Shit… y-you’re too tight… loosen the fuck up, brat.” You glare up at him, throbbing from the pain now, he’s barely holding on.
“I can’t. Y-you’re an idiot!”
“Running your mouth?”
“You’re too big!”
“Fuck…” He eases back, leaning up on an elbow, hand slipping down and rolling on your clit. “Relax, annoying ass. Even your pussy is stubborn.”
“You’re… so… ah!” His circles are rough, calloused thumb pressing on your little engorged clit, when he sinks in again.
“Relax, now.” His husky voice gives you that order, you do so then, exhaling and looking into his eyes, that are so dark they look black, you nod weakly. “You… are you alright?”
“You care, aw.” You can’t help it, you’re grinning all fucked up.
He glares again, this time thrusting deep, you scream out at it, he moans, biting your neck again, big hand gripping your thigh and lifting it higher. “Fucking feel her, gripping me my god. She’s mine, huh?”
“Y-yours, Kuna.” Your little whimper destroys him, your cunt pulsing around him, stretching and getting wetter to accommodate, and he begins actually fucking you then, you’re so wet, hot and tight he can’t stand how good it feels, he’s already dreaming of breeding this little cunt as you convulse under him.
“F-fucking love it, slutty little pussy.” His words along with his tip dragging against that spot in your walls send you reeling, you hear it now the skin smacking, his balls slapping your ass, wetness squelching when he pulls back, gripping your hips with a wicked grin. “Look, fucking your guts up, huh?”
He forces your chin to look down at the ridiculous bulge in your tummy, you gasp at it, clinging to his sheets now, so full when he sinks more of his cock in you, so much you don’t think he’ll fit fully, he’s already slamming your cervix. His hands slip up your hips, yanking you down further, you scream out at how good it feels.
“Ruin you, no one… n-no one’s gonna do this, yeah?” He leans over just a bit, fucking you harder, thrusts so rough your tits jiggle, your body moves. “Use you as my little fuck toy, pretty toy, so fucked out and stupid.”
“Ngh!” You are stupid, your eyes are rolling back, you’re drooling, incapable of doing anything but pulsing on his cock now, of desperately clinging to him.
“S-say it, brat.” He’s shoved his cock so deep, your cunt is dripping down his veiny length, you’re whimpering desperately, nodding. “That’s it, cum f’me, lemme feel her clamp down. F-fuck, there she is…”
Now Sukuna is full of nonsense, you’re both mumbling as he does ruin you for anyone, as you ruin him for anyone, he’s kissing you sloppy, his tattooed hand wraps your throat. He squeezes just so, you’re fading as he rails your cunt, muttering filthy, nasty words, you were a virgin, but he sure the fuck wasn’t taking it easy.
Well, you didn’t think he was, Sukuna actually is taking it easy.
He’ll wait before he goes where he wants to, but you so eagerly open your mouth for his spit, desperately cumming all over his cock then. “Made f’me, pussy she’s m-mine, hmm?”
You’re getting choked, swallowing spit, and this asshole asks you a question? You manage a nod, as he slows finally, releasing your throat, hand slipping up your titty to pinch your nipple, hips rolling just so, jerking his cock against your bruised cervix. You’re a stupid mess under him, sputtering when he finally slows his rhythm, when he thickens impossibly in you.
“I’m never pulling out of you, on something?” He huffs, you blink in confusion as he grins. “Asked ya a question brat.”
“On… pill… mmm…” He moans now, exhaling.
“Good, hah-” He thrusts deep again, you’re fluttering around his length. “Wouldn’t pull out anyway. I’d knock you the fuck up, breed your slutty cunt.” You’re done for, when he starts spurting cum, crying out in your ear, taking over everything with his huge body on top of you, in you, around you. He’s cumming so much it’s ridiculous, coating your walls, filling your belly full. “Oh f-fuck… fuckin love you…”
You blink as you come to, as your cum and his are pushed out with each thrust, your thighs shaking, head buzzing from pleasure. He looks at you then, eyes desperate, biting his lower lip while you put it together. “You love me, Kuna?”
“Shut up.” You smile when he kisses you again, and well… you don’t just fuck once for your first time.
You’re fucking in the shower to ‘clean up’ and then he’s got you up on the counter, devouring your pussy again, seeing how many times you can cum, soon he’s got his game going, showing you the controls as you’re cockwarming him. You’re so sore no amount of ibuprofen will fix it, but you want more, you’re grinding on him as you wear his headset, getting shot hopelessly by the players.
That’s where Yuuji finds you all, your tits out, Sukuna half naked, big hands on your hips with his cock inside you, you gasp then, covering your tits with your hands, but Sukuna just laughs, kissing on your shoulders. Yuuji covers his face, turning away quickly in embarrassment.
“K-kuna… s-stop…” You whisper, but Yuuji waves at you all, covering his eyes with a smile.
“You’re getting along!”
“Um… yeah.” You manage, and Sukuna’s laughing so hard it’s annoying, he doesn’t pay attention to your glare.
“Cool… um… bye.” He hides in his room, you try to get up, but Sukuna has you pinned down, tilting your head and kissing you.
“You’re insane, Sukuna.”
“You love that shit.”
“Shush. Show me the… g-game…”
The teammates are very curious why Sukuna started sucking at Call of Duty that day, but he has his new very annoying girlfriend to blame, she’s just squeezing his cock too good.
A/N I really have been feeling some Sukuna latelyyy, I hope ya'll enjoyed the smut aha!! <3
Taglisttt: @yenayaps @schlokki @elliesndg @thelightknight21 @attackonnat @indiewritesxoxo @sylussss7 @ninikrumbs @zezedoesshit @iveiveim @spacefae-x @maomimii @moonchhu @jinxiewritings perma tags- @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @aldebrana
#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna#ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen smut#jjk sukuna#jjk smut#jjk x reader smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#sukuna x female reader#jujustu kaisen
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# “HOLD UP, POSE!” ── .✦ ( model!reader x batboys s/o kinda requested ˚⟡˖ )
a/n: so sorry for the break and how i traumatized half of you guys with my rant (if I suffer you gonna do too && let’s move on now ) and it’s lowkeyy funny ngl but omgg, I’m finally back though soo yeah but I’m finally taking requests again for a bit too so about that yeah and also make sure to go vote on the poll, we’re at 600+ votes already for my 1k event!! Tags: (batboys x model!reader)
© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )
DICK GRAYSON ── .✦
Your biggest fan, no contest. He has a folder on his phone labeled “My Gorgeous Girl” filled with all your magazine covers, runway shots, and candid photos he’s sneakily taken of you (even the ones where you’re eating pizza in sweats).
Loves to drop the fact that you’re a model into conversations. Someone says something even remotely related, and Dick is like, “Oh, that reminds me of the time yn walked for Valentino. She looked stunning. Anyway, how’s your dog?”
Flirty but lowkey jealous. He’s all smiles at your shoots, but if a photographer or fellow model gets a little too friendly, he’ll sidle up behind you, wrap an arm around your waist, and casually go, “Hey, babe, everything good here?”
Runs your fan page in secret. He denies it every time, but you know it’s him posting like archive photos of you? with captions like, “Truly the most breathtaking woman alive.”
Always hypes you up. You’re stressing before a runway show? He’s holding your hands, looking you dead in the eyes, and saying, “You’re going to kill it, just like always. They’re not ready for you.”
JASON TODD ── .✦
Pretends not to care, but he’s secretly obsessed. You’ll catch him flipping through your magazines with a bored expression, but the dog-eared pages of all your spreads say otherwise.
Gets grumpy when he has to share you with the world. “Do you really have to fly to Milan again? Can’t they get someone else to wear the fancy coat?” But he’s the first one to text you after your show with a “You looked amazing. Miss you, though.”
Always lurking at your events. He doesn’t do red carpets, but you’ll spot him in the back of the after-party, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, watching you like you’re the only person in the room.
Jealous but funny about it. If a male model gets paired with you for a shoot, Jason will grumble, “You know I could wear that suit better, right?”
Says he doesn’t care about fashion but definitely critiques it. “They put you in that? Really? That’s what they think is high fashion?” (Meanwhile, he still owns a leather jacket he’s had since he was 17.)
TIM DRAKE ── .✦
The low-key proud boyfriend. Tim doesn’t brag about you… unless someone else brings it up. Then it’s a full PowerPoint presentation: “Oh, you didn’t know she walked the Paris Fashion Week finale? Let me show you.”, “it’s not that serious Tim.”
Forgets how famous you are sometimes. He’s so focused on his work that when he accompanies you to an event, he’s always surprised when people scream your name. “Wow, they’re… really excited to see you, huh?”
Pretends to be chill but panics at your shoots. If you’re wearing something too revealing, Tim’s sitting in the corner like, “Does she really need to wear that? I mean, it’s fashion, I guess, but still…”
Shows up to all your shows with coffee. He knows your schedule can be brutal, so he always has your favorite drink ready and a warm smile. “Long day, huh? Here, you’ve earned this.”
Accidentally goes viral as your boyfriend. Someone snaps a picture of him holding your bag while you’re doing a fitting, and now he’s trending as “hot model’s mystery man.” Or “Drake Spotted With L/N?”
DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦
Thinks modeling is beneath you. Not because he doesn’t support you, but because he genuinely thinks you’re too good for it. “Tt. Why waste your time parading around in someone else’s designs when you could rule the world instead?”
Still shows up to your shows like a proud dad. He won’t admit it, but he’s ridiculously proud of you. He’ll sit front row, arms crossed, looking annoyed until you walk out. Then his face softens, and he claps (but only once).
Hates everyone in the industry. Photographers, stylists, agents—he side-eyes them all. “Do they have to touch you so much?”
Quietly supportive in his own way. You come home exhausted, and he’s already brewed your favorite tea and laid out your comfiest pajamas. “You should rest. You’ve worked hard enough today.”
Keeps all your clippings. You find a scrapbook in his study filled with your covers, tear sheets, and event photos. When you ask him about it, he just mutters, “I didn’t want them getting lost.” And even keeps some fan letters that you keep or lost along the way.
BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦
Thinks it’s “adorable.” Bruce can’t help but chuckle whenever you mention your modeling career. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?” But he’s not teasing he genuinely admires how passionate you are.
Surprisingly knowledgeable about fashion. He knows every major designer, can spot couture from a mile away, and will occasionally surprise you by saying things like, “That’s Galliano, isn’t it? From the ‘06 collection?”
Makes every event feel like a power couple moment. When you walk a red carpet together, it’s like the world collectively gasps. He keeps his hand on your back, whispers sweet nothings, and makes sure you’re the center of attention.
Defends your career to anyone who dares question it. Someone makes a snide remark about modeling being “shallow,” and Bruce immediately shuts them down with, “Actually, it’s an incredibly demanding profession that requires both discipline and skill. You should try it sometime.”
Buys your agency. You’re stressed about a bad contract or a difficult agent? Suddenly, Wayne Enterprises owns the company, and Bruce is like, “Problem solved. You can thank me later.”
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#batboys#dc#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson#nightwing x reader#nightwing#red hood x reader#red hood#jason todd headcanon#nightwing imagine#nightwing headcanon#tim drake imagine#tim drake x reader#tim drake#tim drake headcanon#damian al ghul x reader#damian wayne x reader#damian al ghul#damian wayne#robin damian#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne#bruce wayne headcanon#damian wayne headcanon#damian wayne imagine#red robin x reader#red robin headcanon
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ANGRY GOD | 02
MASTERLIST (Series)
Pairing — S2!Rafe Cameron x (F)Reader
Summary — Rafe always struggled with being the only person in his head. When he meets you on the balcony of Tannyhill, everything changes. As sweet and kind as you appear to be, you turn out to be a reflection of Rafe and his dark thoughts. A burnt soul. A perfect companion. But as much as he wants you, as much as you deserve each other, something stands in the way: your relationship with JJ.
Content — angst, suggestive themes, cheating (not on each other), minor blood kink, rafe does coke, reader smokes cigarettes, toxic dynamic, obsessive and psychopathic behavior, and subtle dubcon.
Word Count — 3.9K
lıllılı Deja Vu and She's Mine Pt. 1 by J Cole
Dedication — to @cybersunnie who read it first and gave me lovely feedback, ily my southeast asian bestie <3
Rafe looks for you everywhere.
Ever since that fateful night, he had searched every room and crowd for a glimpse of your face. Most times, he doesn't find what he's looking for, and a lump of frustration curls up his throat. A wasted effort, he tells himself, to look for someone who isn't his, but he does it anyway.
He's never been good at letting go of things that belonged to him.
Tonight's bonfire is on the beach. The firepit is surrounded by keggers lined neatly along the edges, and the salty tang of driftwood smoke hangs in the air. Flickering embers roared to the sky, while the drunken crowd moved in scattered clusters, their laughter coalescing with the music as they stumble over their steps. Rafe can't help but scoff at the very sight.
He had snorted a couple of lines before his arrival. Nothing calms him down quicker than strips of white powder that substitute for dopamine, but it still isn't quite the replacement he's looking for. It may make him feel lighter, unable to feel the depth of his soul sinking like an anchor to the bottom of the ocean floor, but it's ineffective. Riffled with the knowledge that there's something better for him out in the world, something that mirrors the use of a drug, something that can save him.
You.
Rafe sips on the beer he's been nursing for the past half-hour—coke and liquor are a hangover's bitch—and his eyes survey the mass of people in futile efforts. Everyone has arrived, including those Pogue friends of yours, but there are still no traces of you. Once again, Rafe believes that you've decided to forgo the invite to forget him.
Until he finds you off in the distance.
In the corner of the world, sitting on the shore and counting waves, with your legs drawn to your chest and your arms draped across your knees. Parties have always been a troublesome endeavor for you, rekindling old memories you want nothing more than to forget, but you always find yourself succumbing to one. It's a nasty habit you're unable to break.
You had slipped away—from the masses, from your friends, from JJ—for some peace on the edge of the earth. No one seems to have noticed your missing presence. At least, that's what you believe.
Something settles at your side, darkening your solace with its thick presence, and you turn to discover Rafe. He sinks into the empty space beside you, cold brew in hand, and refuses to meet your gaze. Your heartbeat skips, alarm bells activating and cautioning you to leave, but you choose to stay.
Silence engulfs the air and despite the heavy bass reverberating through the air and the flurries of chatters from Kooks and Pogues alike, none of that seems to matter. As always, with Rafe, it feels like you two are the only people remaining on Earth, spinning on its axis, waiting.
It isn't like this with anyone else.
"You've been ignoring me," Rafe announces flatly. His stare set to the horizon of the coastline, watching waves flatten into the salt-soaked sand inches away from his feet.
"I haven't," you defend, a little too quickly, wincing at the projection of your voice. "We just haven't been going to the same places."
He scoffs dryly, "Because you've been ignoring me."
You shake your head softly, but Rafe doesn't acknowledge the gesture. You doubt he cares. It mirrors you in that aspect, knowing exactly how his mind behaves—believing his version of events to be the only correct reality. Nothing you do, or say, will change it.
It's hard to talk to someone who's stubborn.
It's worse when the person knows you too well.
Because in some ways, he's right. Several invitations to various functions have been sent, but you've opted out of attending any of them. Partly because you don't want to be in that environment. Mostly because you're afraid of facing Rafe. You had assumed it'd be an easy facade to maintain—just as the rest of your friends suspected you simply weren't into parties—but Rafe sees directly through you, like glass.
He resists the urge to look at you. Fearing if he does, he'll never stop. It isn't enough for him to be within your proximity, he wants to have you, and it's a debilitating feeling to know he can't. Blood coats his senses, and he realizes he bite his tongue too hard.
Yet, he feels the heat of your stare on his profile. Your eyes sweep over every feature, every twitch of muscle as if you're committing to memory the days you haven't seen him. Pride finds him in that regard—to know he consumes your thoughts as much as you consumed him.
He begs to be wanted.
He wants you to beg for him.
"Your bruises are healing nicely," you say softly, admiring the faded damning colors of his assault to the healing yellows that smother his skin. "That's good."
His resolve breaks and Rafe turns. The corner of his lips lifts. "You would care, wouldn't you?"
You blink in surprise, but Rafe takes it as some protest of resilience. You won't admit it, as much as you want him, as much as you need him, and the anguish seeps into his bones. unable to detangle itself from skin. "Of course I do," you stutter a reply, "I patched you up."
"But it isn't the only reason," he presses, "Is it?"
His eyes meet yours, and it rivals the first look he's ever given you. Full of scorn and disdain, Rafe had once wanted nothing more than you to be out of his sight. Now, he can't have enough of it.
It evokes honesty in you. "It isn't."
Rafe grins, taking any small victory as a celebration.
You can't take it, deciding to break contact to reach into the pockets of your shorts. You fish out the lighter and a small box of cigarettes before torching the end of the stick and inhaling a sharp breath. Nicotine slithers into your system, calming your raging nerves.
Rafe watches with amusement. He had always hated a woman who smokes. It was unorthodox, dirty, and not someone he sees himself with. But when he watches the way the puff of smoke exits your lips, the calamity smoothening your features, he's never wanted to kiss you more.
“You smoke?” Rafe asks as you lower the cigarette to your side. The butt of the blunt brushes against the grains of sand.
“Yeah.” You say timidly. “It’s a bad habit I can’t break.”
"Interesting."
"What?"
"Didn't take you as a smoker," Rafe confesses, but something in his statement reeks of judgment. As much as you hate the need to be validated by others, something about Rafe leaves you desiring acceptance.
You scramble to form an excuse. “I only do it when I’m nervous.”
“I make you nervous?”
You don't respond, but you're sure the split-second expression on your face revealed it all. Pressing your lips together, you rip your gaze from Rafe to look back to the ocean currents, raging and coursing through the tides as if a storm is brewing. You hoped this respite would dissolve the tension in the air, but it doesn't.
Thick and hot, you can't decide if it's the heat of the firepit against your backside or the idea of Rafe's close—too close—proximity to you. Your truth. The persona you've carefully crafted on the verge of collapsing.
Rafe finally understands why you don't go to parties. Even if you don't explicitly state it; it's him. The way he can read you, understand you, and make you feel. A parallel of himself in you that feels like a reflection against a pond. It scares you. It terrifies him. Yet he can't get enough of it.
You clear your throat, taking another puff of your cigarette, before returning your gaze back to him. "You left your own party again."
Is this what you want to talk about? Rafe would rather push past the small talk, but he entertains it nonetheless. At least it's something to keep you close. "It's not my party."
"Right." You hum, inhaling a nicotine-saturated breath that hisses and chars the end of the blunt. "But you left it all the same. Shouldn't you be with your friends?"
"I could ask the same about you."
"I asked you first."
"Is that how you want to play it?"
Rafe cocks his head in challenge, armed with the mockery and condescension of his dripping tone. But it's not aimed at you, but rather for you. A provocation that asks: one of us is lying here, who will it be?
"You're baiting me," you announce, digging the burnt end of the cigarette into the sand to extinguish it. "It's not going to work."
Rather than take offense from your blatant callout, he scoffs out a smirk. His perfect teeth glistened underneath the moonlight, which can almost be read as fangs.
"Smart girl too," he muses, more to himself than you, before taking a swing of his beer. Directing his line of vision towards the darkened horizon, you watch him swallow with a bob of his Adam's apple. "I was looking for you."
"Me?" You repeat. "Why would you be looking for me?"
"Don't act dumb, princess. It's not cute."
Silence stretches among you, and the only soothing sound of this moment is the cascades of water meeting sand. Your heart doubles its tempo, reconciling with Rafe's words before he pierces the quietude with another confession. "They don't care."
This time, you don't play dumb. You know exactly what he's referring to. Rafe made a bold accusation that his friends don't care about him, and you have a sneaking suspicion that he is right.
From what you heard from your own group, no one is friends with Rafe. Not really. All they want is to get out of his way, to avoid being the receiving end of his wrath. Rapport is the closest method towards that settlement. A falsehood for security. He had come to the bitter realization on his own; that no one is real with him except you.
You don't take the time to be frivolous and reassure him with meaningless consolation. You cut straight to the chase.
"Then why come?" You ask, not knowing if he'll respond. But what you don't know is Rafe would answer almost anything if it came from you. "Why attend something when none of these people care about you?"
The instantaneous reply is a howling wind from the ocean, breezing over your skin and raising goosebumps on your arms. But you remain still. Unsure if Rafe will answer, you wait until he admits, "It's better than being alone."
All the air leaves your lungs.
Your heart pumps like it's about to burst.
Because Rafe confirms what you’re thinking.
And you feel the same way.
You're certain you're in an exact predicament but you don't have the courage to voice it. The Pogues only tolerate you because you're in this relationship with JJ, but you have a sinking feeling that it's just the novelty. Something short and fleeting. Something false.
You entered it under the assumption that JJ understood you—a burnt soul recognizing a companion. But that's proven to be completely untrue. JJ may have faced hardships, but his entire network is built on camaraderie. You never had that. Neither did Rafe.
Maybe that's why you gravitate towards him.
Maybe that's why you're afraid.
"Why are you here?" Rafe prompts, turning the spotlight back onto you.
You lick your lips, suddenly dry. "The Pogues invited—"
"No, don't give me that bullshit," he snaps, but his tone lacks the bite. All it demands is truth. "I mean, why did you come this time? You've been avoiding me for a reason."
You scoff. "You know."
A cruel smirk carves the corner of his mouth, framed with an innocent dimple. "I want to hear you say it."
"And if I don't?"
"Then you're a liar, princess. Just like all of them."
Fire ignites in your chest by his accusation, reminding you closely of that night at Tannyhill, and your hands squeeze into tight fists. Sucking on the inside of your cheek, and licking the residual nicotine sticking to your gums, give you a minor boost of confidence. "I thought if I didn't, they'd stop inviting me."
You exhale a blow of air, similar to your cigarette, but a heavy weight lifts off your chest. You don't turn to meet Rafe's eyes, but you feel the heat of his stare.
Rafe grins, self-satisfaction ripples through his features in unparalleled triumph. "Just like me."
"Don't be a dick," you declare.
"I'm not trying to." He says. "It's just ironic."
"Ironic how?"
He takes a second to answer, lingering on the moment by sipping on the rim of his beer, letting a slow, singular drop fall from the corner of his mouth. "Because every party I've seen you at, you're always escaping it."
You shrink under this observation, nails buried into the sand to find grounding. "I needed a break."
"All the time?" He taunts.
You say absolutely nothing. And Rafe chuckles dryly. "The girl who always leaves the party. The boy who needs it. We'll make a good couple."
You lift your head. "Is that your criteria for a relationship?"
"No. But I'll take any excuse to have you."
Your breath stutters in your throat. From your previous interaction with Rafe, you concluded that he cuts through the drivel. But it's different this time around. Now, it riffled with the knowledge of knowing you, of wanting you.
Rafe always had a single-minded ambition, the type to chase after his goal until he captured it within the palm of his hand. That's you to him.
Morals be damned. As long as he has you.
To be wanted like that terrifies you. With your heart palpitating in your chest, you feel the urge to rebuild your walls. To add that familiar and safe space between you and him. "Rafe..." You trail off in warning.
Instantaneously, as if he can read you, he knows why.
Frowning, Rafe says, "Hm. Forget you're with Maybank."
You don't think that's entirely true.
"I should get back," to him, but that part remains unspoken.
Rising from your seat, you dust off the sheen coat of sand under your thighs before motioning to leave. But Rafe snatches your wrist. His grip is firm but loose enough for you to slip out, only begging you not to.
You look down, however Rafe refuses to meet your gaze. In fact, he avoids it, opting for the dark coastline that rivals the turbulent feeling in his chest. "Why are you with him?" He whispers against the wind, his tone seeping with vulnerability. "Why are you with him when you can be with me?"
You don't know how to answer that. "He was nice to me."
"I can be nice to you."
You shake your head. "It's not the same."
"Why not?" Rafe asks wretchedly, lifting his head to finally meet your gaze and you read how broken he truly is. Your chest tightens. His icy blue eyes warmed with desperation, and his grip around your wrist tightens, like a beggar seeking approval.
For a moment, you considered lying. It's the easiest way out. But there's no one here but the two of you. No one to perform to. No one but an audience who knows you soul-deep. How do you lie out of this one?
"I think you need me," you whisper. "I don't know how to be needed like that."
If you were anyone else, he'd feel insulted. To insulate he needs someone—anyone—to function implies he's weak. That he's dependent on another. But Rafe hasn't felt this sense of gratification in years. A kinship that emerges from a soul recognizing a burnt soul. He can't lose that.
"Neither do I," he answers, almost pleading. "Let's try it out."
"Try what?"
"Us." He urges. "You and me."
You shouldn't, but you can't help but consider the proposal. It's awful, especially knowing you're in a committed relationship—as committed as you can be—and you try to build excuses and logic on why this couldn't work. Why it shouldn't work. But all of them fell flat.
"You hate me."
"I didn't know you."
"You called me a bitch."
"I'm sorry," he says sincerely.
"You called me a liar," you accuse, unmasking the sting from the label.
"You are," Rafe insists without missing a beat. "But I'll take it."
You chew on your bottom lip, gnawing on the raw, broken skin until you taste iron. "I don't know," you admit, voice low, chest heavy. "I don't know if I can save you, Rafe."
This time, he doesn't have a response. This time, he's rendered speechless. It's a confessional—what he truly desires from you is redemption. To possess a mirror that resolves him of his own sins.
His fingers loosen around your wrist.
"I have to go," you say softly, taking a step towards the exit.
But it isn't quick enough.
Rafe grabs you again and gives you one last tug, forcing you to land on his lap. Before you can move, he grabs the nape of your neck and pulls you close, forehead pressed against his, chest meeting the other.
You feel the rapid thumping of his own heartbeats.
"One taste," Rafe murmurs, his eyes on yours and they're pitch-black, all dissolved of his color. "Just one taste and I'll let you go."
"One?" You ask meekly, your heart threatening to spill.
"One." He confirms, reeking of the same desperation he's always been ashamed of revealing. But he doesn't care anymore. "And you can go back to Maybank and do whatever the fuck you want."
You search his face, trying to read him, but nothing but pure primal instinct coats his rugged features. He wants you—in a way that's so animalistic, he's actively holding himself back from taking more. A sick satisfaction curves up your throat at being desired by such capacity.
"Okay."
Rafe doesn't give you a moment to retract your consent before he drags your mouth down to his, silencing every pounding thought with a kiss.
Instinctively, you steel your spine from the assault before slowly unwinding. From all the venom and vile words spilled from Rafe's tongue, his mouth is surprisingly soft and tender. His kiss is rich with desire, gripped with desperation, and it pours all his silent confessions into one. Your heart has never raced so frantically but has never been this calm.
You want this.
Logic and reason chip away when you feel how warm Rafe is. How he laps over the broken piece of your bottom lip like worship, how he craves you with the depravity of a man receiving his last meal, licking you clean until you're nothing but bones.
It's intoxicating. Where has Rafe been all your life? Why haven't you done this sooner? Your mind can't find a proper answer until a slow, nauseating reminder strikes your drunken and lustful state. It's because you're taken. It answers. You're committed to someone who isn't him.
Pulling away, you breathe, "Rafe—"
"Not enough," he declares roughly, dragging your back and stealing another kiss. It's as if it's the only air he's willing to take. He demands it—it's his.
And yet, for all your stream of moral consciousness, there's little resistance.
You allow him to take you. Devour you. To suck on your bottom lip until a metallic tang is shared between you, and to feel the warm liquid ooze onto your tongue like sacred waters. He tastes so good, and Rafe's hands fall from your arm to your waist, tugging you along until you're centered on his lap. With an automatic roll of your hips, he groans, and you feel the growing erection form in his jeans demonstrating his obsession with you.
It's just one. But one kiss turns into two and three, and suddenly you can't stop. Nothing has ever felt as right as this moment with Rafe.
Pulling back a second time, your murmur against his swollen lips. "This is a bad idea."
"This is the best goddamn idea I've ever had," he breathes into your mouth, his hand straying to cup a handful of your ass under your shorts. "You taste better than I imagined."
"What do I taste like?"
"Mine," Rafe answers breathily, before cupping the back of your neck once again and aligning your mouth to his.
Addiction. Rafe is certain that's what this is. The way you rock against him, the way your body molds into his—like a perfect puzzle finding its match—he can't help but believe in fate. It infuriates him that it took him this long.
But even in a perfect moment, the illusion quickly shatters by a grating voice from the distance. Rafe wants nothing more than to ignore its bugging nuisance, but you can't seem to.
Because it's your boyfriend.
You rip away from Rafe to discover JJ's silhouette approaching the shore, searching for you. Panic zigzags through your chest and you swiftly leave Rafe's lap, brushing away any criminalizing evidence of your infidelity.
"That's one. We're done."
When JJ arrives, Rafe doesn't move. He doesn't even make a gesture to conceal the situation as JJ's eyes dart between the two of you, trying to piece together what you were doing with the Kook in the first place.
But no one reveals a thing. Not even you. You quickly apologize for leaving the party and fumble a flimsy excuse for Rafe's presence. And JJ's birdbrain accepts it, causing Rafe to scoff at the fool you're with.
When he takes your hand, leading you back to the party, you quickly accept—dragging yourself into the same space you beg to break from. And doing nothing but leaving Rafe behind.
He could leave now. After all, he came out to the shores searching for you. But there's a calamity that comes from being out here. Seeing the waters, watching the crashing of the waves. It allows him to truly think—away from the noises, away from the people, away from all the meaningless distractions.
Rafe swipes his thumb across his bottom lip, feeling the buzzing sensation left behind from your kiss, and collects a single droplet of blood. It must've spilled from you, or his bitten tongue, he doesn't know for sure. All he does is slip it right back into his mouth.
And for the first time throughout this entire night, Rafe grins. A real one. A devious one. Because he's coming to a familiar conclusion.
You parade among the people who don't give a damn about you, who don't know a single truth, and pretend you fit in their world. But you don't. You're a liar.
But as Rafe remembers the taste of your hot lips on his, the way your body fits in with his, the taste of your blood on his tongue—he realizes, so is he.
Because there's no way that is the last time he'll kiss you. That he has you. No. He had one taste and it wasn't enough.
Rafe is coming back for more.
Whether you like it or not.
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Navigation — Part 01 | Part 02 | Part 03 / End
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can we get more myung gi/ player 333 oneshots/hcs plsss (if u can)💕💕
boyfriend myung-gi in the games.
warnings … there may be some typos, i apologize
lovely notes … ask & you shall receive ml 🙂↕️
꩜ [ 600 words ]
boyfriend myung-gi who cherishes the small moments with you. the moments after games, moments right before lights out, and even the minuscule moments like when he makes direct eye contact with you from across the room.
boyfriend myung-gi who lets you get in line before him because you’re his top priority, always.
boyfriend myung-gi who always gives you a share of his food. he doesn’t care about you saying you “don’t want it”, he insists that you stay more fed than him. he’ll put your well-being before his every time.
boyfriend myung-gi who is wary of all the other contestants, even more with you in the games with him. he doesn’t trust them, nor does he want you to blindly trust them.
boyfriend myung-gi who makes a silent vow to himself to protect you at the start of every game. he puts your welfare before his every time, so he will defend you with his entire life.
boyfriend myung-gi who always has a vice grip on your hand. whether you’re in a game, waiting to vote, or doing something so mundane such as sitting next to one another. he likes to feel you at all times, it anchors him in a way
boyfriend myung-gi who squeezes your hand just a bit tighter when thanos or nam-gyu walks by. they’re the last people he wants to get near either of you, so of course he feels a need to protect you.
boyfriend myung-gi who always moves your head to rest on his shoulder when sitting next to one another. or he places his head to rest on your lap. he just wants to be near you, is all.
boyfriend myung-gi who always wakes up before you. you sleep in his bed, and he can’t help himself but wake up a few hours before you. he enjoys the mere moments when he can have you in his arms without any concerns.
boyfriend myung-gi who’s the first to acknowledge you when you walk into a room. his eyes immediately shift to you when he’s in the same vicinity as you. it was like a magnetic force pulled his eyes to you every time.
boyfriend myung-gi who covers your eyes when other participants die. if possible, he’s going to shield you from the horror that is the reality of the death game you’re in. the last thing he wants you to see is lifeless bodies dropping left and right.
boyfriend myung-gi who randomly says “i love you”. he wants to remind you of his unwavering love all the time, of course.
boyfriend myung-gi who’s only level-minded around you. you’re the only one who can ground him because god knows how unbalanced he’d get without you.
boyfriend myung-gi who’s constantly near you during every game. red light, green light? you’re behind him. six-legged pentathlon? you’re obviously on the same team as him. mingle? you’re in every single group with him. other participants may see it as clinginess, but both of you see it as myung-gi protecting you with his everything.
boyfriend myung-gi who would quite literally fall to his knees if you got injured. he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you got wounded under his observation.
boyfriend myung-gi who has the most extravagant plans for when the both of you get out of the games. he has dozens of date plans just for when you make it out.
boyfriend myung-gi who sometimes feels like he doesn’t deserve you. you’re the only constant in the cruelty that you both found yourselves in. and he feels so undeserving of you and your tenderness so often.
#(౨ৎ) — fics .#lee myung gi#lee myung gi x reader#myung gi x reader#lee myung gi fluff#lee myung gi imagine#lee myung gi scenario#squid game#squid game x reader#squid game fluff#squid game imagine#squid game scenario#squid game netflix#squid game season 2#squid game 2#x reader#x reader insert#reader insert#gender neutral reader
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Oh, my...I did not read the 15k words part. However, we are here.
Before I yap— Eris, have I ever told you that there's something about the way you write that catches my interest? Can't really put it into words just yet. Maybe if I read more I'll eventually formulate that feeling into words~
Alright, spoilers under the cut! And LOTS of yapping~
Blade
Going for the single bed trope I see...this'll be interesting (¬ ͜ ͡¬)
Okay, but I do find it funny that the reason he wanted to share the bed was for the reader and him to get better rest. Only for the two of them to NOT get a wink of sleep. Reader toss
Love to see a reader that doesn't back down and even takes on a challenge. And oop— would you look at that. Nobody's really getting any sleep now. Hopefully, the bed frame's sturdy enough! And that the walls are thick enough for the sake of the neighbors.
"Knowing you did that to him-that you could make this cold, calculating man lose control-sent an electric thrill through you." Mnhmmm...I'm sure it did.
I think the maintenance of professional distance flew out of the window the moment he said they should share the same bed— to which was literally made for a single person alone. Also when the reader agreed.
Please, just fuck already—
Did I get slightly absorbed in reading that I forgot to make comments? Yes. Sorry. I actually came back to drop a comment about the headboard bc I'm praying for that thing to survive the night.
Also...whoooo *fans self* there's a reason I was a bit occupied with reading than commenting. That bit was VERY distracting.
Ah, a touch of sadomasochism. Love to see it.
Personally, I've always been weak when it comes to the magic phrase "pretty girl". Always will be actually.
Hey!!! The bed frame survived. At least they'll be able to sleep comfortably now.
And the softness of the ending. From passionate and almost feral but gently holding each other and savoring the moment <333
Sunday
THE TENSION.
Ohhh, the underlying yearning and fear of speaking out because of the status. Wanting to just close that small gap and yet it feels like such a wide wedge between two people who simply want to love one another.
I am unwell.
"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his forehead against yours. You don't.
What if I flatline—
Yes. Go, reader! Tell him! That man's holding back too much when he already has such a gorgeous being in his arms who clearly wants him. Stop trying to play hard to get, Sunday.
Did I get distracted? AGAIN? Yes. Yes, I did.
Came back to comment when he said that he'd be gentle. Oh, his constant reassurances, and the way he does his best to memorize and savour the intimate moment with the reader. I am sighing out dreamily and swooning into a fluffy couch. He's even focusing on the reader's pleasure and comfort!!
...all these praises have me looking the side blushing and fanning myself—
THE CONFESSION. I'M TEARING UP AS WE SPEAK. THE WAY HE'S BEGGING??? I'M ON THE FLOOR.
I actually wanted to pick a dialogue to put here and fawn over but all of them are actually too good. I can't pick one. All of them are just— URGH
"His arms wrap around you, holding you close. It's a protective gesture, as if he's afraid you might slip away if he lets go."
Lemme see if I can find that one specific meme that describes how I feel rn...
AHA! FOUND IT!
Did you know? I'm actually an absolute sucker for the lines that go "You're home". Very much so. That was the final nail to the coffin.
Agrenti
Oop— fanboy behavior, huh?
Ngl, I'm fairly new to HSR so I don't really know this character. But he seems like such a sweet guy. Deserves tons of kisses.
"He didn't know whether to laugh or combust." Pretty understandable if someone as lovely and amazing as the reader offers to be your first kiss.
...giving me a wolf hidden in sheep's clothing vibes rn. Interesting. Nvm, he's still a sweetheart <3
He reminds me of a bunny somehow. Like I just wanna pet him and reassure him that he's fine. Very adorable too hehe
Reader has this man completely in the palm of their hand, I fear. Dude is absolutely SMITTEN.
He's so sweet huhu
The ending!! So soft and lovely. Just two people just enjoying the connection they have.
Aventurine
I will never tire of the way you write the reader, Eris! The sassy and confident attitude? Oh, please! I might just started simping for her instead of the men at this point—
"I’m pretty sure the only thing you’ve carried is that overinflated ego of yours.” IM WHEEZING AS WE SPEAK.
“What can I say? You’re entertaining, like a fancy slot machine with nice hair.” *cue incoherent fox wheezing noises* NO BC I AM IN LOVE WITH THESE REMARKS.
I just know the dealer's just there looking up to the ceiling and praying to whatever aeon there is to let the reader and this man just get a room before he has to call for both security and clean-up service.
Was the gap between feedbacks a bit...lengthy? Yes. But in my defense it's only 'cuz a certain writer over here really knows her way with words on how to make the tension so thick and palpable that I'm too busy drowning in it to make any comments.
"Let me take care of you." I dunno if you'll be able to tell which part I am on rn but I promise you that I am absolutely blushing and burying my face against my pillows.
"He moans in response" I am currently dying from a nosebleed.
Unsurprisingly, I'm weak towards the specific petname "love"...
I absolutely adore the softness of it all afterwards. My heart's melting huhu
Dr. Ratio
*breathes in*
THE INTIMACY—
Good gods, I am over here just reading the first scenes and I can already feel the tension seeping into my bones. I'm just here with a hand over my mouth, and completely invested in the way this all unfolds.
This one feels so...intimate somehow. I can't really explain it and I am absolutely loving it. I think it's in the way that most of the time the reader is more fiery and sassy while here? It feels like there's a bit more depth to it. Such a good read and I'm literally still at the first part.
"Let's move somewhere private." Yeah, I agree since I recall Aventurine saying they'll be back in a bit. Hell, I'm not even gonna be surprised if they were in the shadows making bets about how this all goes, and didn't want to disturb the moment.
"His words were sincere, giving you an out if you needed it. But the way his eyes roamed over your face, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours, betrayed his own longing." + "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."
I AM WEAK IN THE KNEES FOR THIS.
"He stepped back slightly, giving you a moment to take in the sight of him..." Hands on my hips rn. I also had to take a moment to go 'Really?' with an exasperated expression on my face.
Devotion. First word that came to mind. I adore that so so very much.
I am feeling this fic was definitely the favorite child.
Wait. Just finished the fic. Lemme gather my thoughts. That— I...uhm..how...wow. Who knew a smut at 8AM could render me speechless in a good way, eh?
I just KNOW this fic was definitely the favorite child. Though the ending was a lot more bittersweet than I expected huhu
Jing Yuan
Ah, last but not the least. Unsure how to feel abt this one since I found him unnerving when I first met him in-game.
"Stop thinking so much." Goddamn, I wish it were a switch I could just turn off—
WELL, THAT THREW ME OFF-GUARD.
Was I once again sucked into the tension that I completely forgot to make comments? Yes. I'm sorry. It's not my fault. Eris writes them too well.
By this point, I truly have a love and hate relationship with this man. Do I still find him unnerving? Yes. But he also extremely attractive that it's unfair when matched with the honeyed-tongue of his.
Struggling rn/lh
...having even more mixed feelings abt Jing Yuan bc of this fic—
But alas! Setting that aside...
Eris, I am positively in love with your writing <3
༉‧₊˚. Turning Page ˚.₊༉
Ft. Sunday ノ Blade ノ Aventurine ノ Dr Ratio ノ Jing Yuan ノ Argenti
sum: unintended one night stands with hsr men wc: 15.7k (roughly 2k - 3k per part)
contains: fempovノpnv (unprotected), creampie, (protected in argenti's), oral (receiving and giving), fingering, handjob, college au in argenti's, royal au in sunday's, both had been drinking in ratio's, legal age gap in jing yuan's, loss of virginity (reader's in sunday's part & argenti's in his part)
a/n: argenti's just so sweet <333
༉ - 2k
The safe house was cramped and freezing, with bare walls that felt as though they'd been forgotten by time. The mission was far from over, and so was the night. Blade had insisted on sharing the only bed, his reasoning being that it made more sense for both of you to rest.
You didn’t argue, at least not openly—but as the minutes dragged on, frustration slowly began to creep in.
But beneath it all, there was an undercurrent, a taut thread of tension that whispered of something unspoken—a frustration you weren’t ready to confront.
The bed was far too small for two people. You could feel his presence constantly, his shoulder brushing against yours with every move you made. It was impossible to ignore the heat radiating from his body, or the quiet tension hanging in the air. The silence between you felt suffocating, far too thick.
You shifted again, desperate to find a comfortable spot, but it was futile. His warmth pressed into your side, too close for comfort. No matter which way you turned, there was only more of him—his body right there, almost too much. You tried to pull away, but the space was so tight you were only met with the sharp edges of the bed, forcing you back into him.
“Stop moving,” Blade muttered, his voice low and laced with irritation. But there was something else, a tension that hinted at a deeper frustration.
“This bed barely fits one person, let alone two,” you shot back, your tone tighter than you intended.
He didn’t miss a beat, “You’re welcome to take the floor.”
It wasn’t a real suggestion, the teasing smirk in his voice was undeniable. You huffed, exasperated, letting out a frustrated sigh as the bed creaked under the smallest of movements. It was maddening—this small space, the constant proximity, his body so close that your nerves hummed with awareness. It wasn’t just frustration anymore. Your heart was racing, and not for reasons you wanted to admit.
Neither of you spoke for what felt like an eternity. The only sounds were your breathing and the ruffling of the duvet. Then Blade's voice sliced through that quiet like a knife. "You're too tense," he said, softer than before but with an edge. "Relax.”
You nearly laughed. Relax? In a bed this small, pressed up against him, with everything swirling between you? It was impossible. Instead, you shifted again, purposefully leaning just a little more into him, testing his patience.
He stiffened, just slightly. "Stop."
It wasn't an order, per se- more of a warning beneath the restraint of desire. The space between you was alive, humming with an unspoken something. Perhaps it was that frustrated buzz of being too close, or perhaps it was simply fatigue from the mission.
"I don't think either of us is getting any sleep tonight," you murmured.
Blade's response was a low grumble, his voice rougher than before. "You're right." Then, ever so slightly, he moved closer, closing the gap until you could feel the heat of his body right against yours again. That subtle shift was enough for your breath to catch in your throat, and the space between you began pulsating with something far more dangerous than mere proximity.
He shifted; his eyes razor-sharp as he spoke, his voice low, almost too calm. "If you're going to keep fidgeting, just say what it is you want.”
You shifted again, your body moving against his in a slow, deliberate motion. The air between you wasn’t just charged—it was thick with unspoken desires and the undeniable pull of him. His heat radiated against your back, his presence a magnetic force that sent a shiver cascading down your spine.
"I don’t know what I want," you murmured, your voice a betrayal. The words faltered under the weight of their lie, and you knew he heard it too. You did know and so did he.
Blade's eyes narrowed, his gaze nearly predatory. "Don't play games," he warned, his voice low.
You could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against your ass, insistent and unmistakable. It sent an electric jolt right to your core, making your breath hitch. Knowing you did that to him-that you could make this cold, calculating man lose control-sent an electric thrill through you.
You bit your lip, fighting a moan as Blade's erection pressed even harder against your ass. The intense heat coming off his body seeped into your skin. You knew you should pull away, maintain the professional distance between, but temptation just proved too strong.
You arched your back, pushing against him. A low groan rumbled from his lips and you could feel his control slipping, his resolve crumbling under the weight of his need.
"Don't tease," he growled, low and rough with desire. His fingers gripped your skin, firm and possessive, leaving faint crescents in their wake. A warning, a promise. You should stop this—walk away before the fire consumes you both. But you didn’t. Instead, your body moved of its own accord, your back arching again, pressing your ass against him with deliberate insistence.
The low, guttural sound that escaped his lips was almost feral, reverberating through you and igniting something wild. Blade’s hand slid up your thigh, his fingertips grazing the edge of your shorts. You knew you should probably stop this but as his fingers hovered, promising more, the pull of temptation was too strong and you couldn’t push him away. You didn’t want to.
"Blade." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.
His fingers curled around your thigh, jerking you closer. "Don't say my name like that," he growled, his voice low and rough with wanting. "Not unless you mean it."
You reached back deliberately, slowly, your hand finding his wrist. But instead of pushing him away, you pulled his hand higher, guiding his fingers to the damp heat between your legs. A low groan escaped his lips as he felt how wet you were, how much you wanted this.
Blade's fingers circled your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan. His touch was electric, making your body shake with need.
His fingers slid lower, teasing your entrance, and making you ache for more. You arched your back, pressing your ass harder against his bulge. The friction was maddening; the heat between your bodies was almost unbearable.
"Please," you whispered. The word slipped out before you could catch it. "Blade, please."
The low growl was his immediate response, and his fingers slipped inside you. "Fuck," he growled, sounding rough with desire. "You're so wet."
You gasped as Blade's fingers plunged deep inside you, your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more. His other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he thrust his fingers in and out, setting a brutal pace that had you seeing stars.
"That’s it-" he purred, his voice low and rough, sending shivers skittering down your spine. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, the words a seductive growl. "Take what you need."
The thought of his cock filling you, made your head spin. Your hand moved instinctively, fingers fumbling in a desperate attempt to free his cock. Blade's breath caught as your fingers reached around to his cock, stroking him through the fabric of his pants. You turned in his arms, facing him now, his eyes were dark with lust as you straddled him. "I want you," you breathed.
His hands gripped your hips, "Are you sure?" he growled, his voice rough with restraint.
You nodded, your lips skimming his.
His resolve shattered. You reached between your bodies, your hand slipping inside his pants to free him. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy in your hand, the tip slick with precum. You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slowly, teasing him, delighting in the low, guttural sound that rumbled through his chest. Blade’s control cracked further as his hips jerked into your hand.
"I'm sure," you breathed, positioning yourself above him. "I want you to fuck me, Blade. I need it."
With that, you sank down onto him, taking his cock deep inside you in one smooth motion. A low moan tore from your throat at the sensation of being stretched and filled so completely. Blade's hands tightened on your hips, his fingers leaving bruises in their wake.
"Fuck," he growled, his head falling back against the pillow. "You feel so good."
You started to move, rising up and sinking back down, finding a rhythm that had sparks of pleasure shooting through your body with each thrust. Blade matched your movements, his hips snapping up to meet yours, driving himself deeper inside you.
The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin on skin, the bed creaking beneath you while you rode him.
"Harder," you demanded, your nails raking down his chest. "Fuck me harder."
Blade's response was to flip you onto your back, never once slipping out of you. He loomed over you, his eyes wild and hungry, his hips pistoning into you with a force that had the headboard slamming against the wall.
Your legs coiled around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, urging him to claim you fully. A moan tore from your lips, unbridled and desperate. "Yes," you gasped, your fingers clutching the sheets as his cock stretched and filled you, the sensation both overwhelming and addicting. "Don’t stop—just like that."
He silenced you with a bruising kiss, his mouth crashing against yours with a fervour that bordered on feral. His tongue danced against yours, matching the rhythm of his hips, exploring and claiming. You met him with equal hunger, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, the taste of copper blooming as you bit down. The sharp pain only seemed to drive him wilder.
Blade’s rhythm faltered for a moment, becoming chaotic, each thrust harder, deeper, as if he was losing control. His breath was ragged against your mouth, his groan reverberating low in his chest. "Fuck," he growled, the word guttural, strained, trembling with need. "I’m so close."
Your nails raked down his sweat-slicked back, leaving fiery trails along his skin. "Me too," you managed between breathless gasps, your body arching into him, seeking the climax coiling tight within you. "Don’t stop. Please don’t stop."
His movements turned punishing, each drive a collision of raw power and desperation, his body demanding your surrender. The pressure inside you built to a fever pitch, a tether about to snap. Blade’s voice cut through the haze, low and commanding, "Come for me, pretty girl."
Those words, spoken with such command, were enough to send you over the edge. Your body convulsed, your inner walls clamping down around Blade's cock as your orgasm crashed over you in waves of intense, overwhelming pleasure.
"Yes -God yes!" you cried out, your head thrown back.
Blade followed, his hips slamming into you one final time as his release overtook him. His guttural groan was almost primal, his cock throbbing inside you as he poured himself into you, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm as some of his cum dripped out, running down your thighs.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was of your mingled breaths. Your bodies shone with sweat, were entwined. His weight pressed you into the mattress, exhaustion in his muscles.
Blade’s lips brushed against your temple, softer now, a contrast to the raw passion that had consumed you both moments before. And as your heartbeats slowed, his presence became the only thing you knew—a warmth, a gravity, pulling you under.
Blade rolled onto his back beside you, his arm pulling you close. You snuggled into his side, your head resting on his chest.
"That was..." you started, but words failed you.
Blade chuckled softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "It was."
༉ - 2.8k
The corridors are quieter than usual tonight, save for the faint echo of your footsteps and the sound of Sir Sunday’s armour as he walks beside you. You have done this many times before: this midnight escort from the ballroom to your chambers, accompanied by your knight. But there was something about tonight that felt different and maybe that’s because the event was hosted to find you a suitor.
The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of your gown against the polished floor. His presence always feels heavier, and there's an edge to the air between you, something unsaid pressing against the confines of propriety.
"They were all good choices," Sunday says at last, in a low and even tone.
Your brow furrows. "Were they?"
He doesn't look at you as he replies. "I'd expect so. The court wouldn't invite anyone unworthy.".
You look over at him, catching the faint tension in his jaw. There's something restrained in the way he speaks tonight, something tightly wound beneath the surface. "And yet, I didn't choose any of them.".
He exhales sharply, the sound barely audible over his steps. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”
You slow your pace just enough that he has to adjust his stride to match. “Would you like to know them?”
His gaze flickers toward you briefly, a flash of gold under the dim light. “I doubt they’re for me to know, Your Highness.”
You stop to face him. The soft light casts shadows across his features, sharp and unreadable as always, but there’s something in his stance—a slight hesitation, the way his hand hovers just above the hilt of his sword—that betrays him.
"Maybe they are," you say, softer now, your voice barely enough to draw his attention fully.
For a moment, the distance between you feels insurmountable, though it's only a step or two. He doesn't speak, doesn't move, but his eyes search yours, as if trying to piece together what you're not saying aloud.
"I dismissed them all because none of them felt…" You pause, to think over the words. "....Right."
Sunday's grip tightens on the hilt of his sword. "You'll have to choose eventually," he says, deliberately keeping his voice neutral. "The court won't let you wait forever.".
"And what if I don't want to?"
The question hangs in the air, daring him to respond. You watch the flicker of something in his expression—surprise, perhaps, or maybe something deeper, something he’s worked too hard to keep buried.
“You’re the princess,” he says, but the words are softer this time, almost hesitant.
"And you're my knight," you reply, closing the distance.
He doesn't back up, but you notice the way his shoulders tense. "Exactly. And that is all I can be.".
Your breath catches at how his voice drops on the last word. There's no anger in it, no bitterness—only a quiet resignation.
"You think so, huh?" you whisper, not much louder than a whisper.
He turns away, tongue against his cheek. "I do."
You lift a hand before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing against the cold steel of his chest plate. The contrast between the armour and the warmth of the man beneath it sends a shiver through you. He freezes at the contact, his gaze snapping back to yours.
"Sunday…". His name is too familiar on your lips, but you can't stop.
"Don't." His voice is rough, but his hand rises, fingers curling loosely around your wrist. He doesn't pull you away, though; he doesn't move at all. "If you say anything else, I won't be able to forget it."
"Maybe I don't want you to."
The words have barely left your lips when he takes a step closer, erasing the distance between you. His eyes still remain so intense that they're pinning you in place, but there's a flicker of uncertainty there, too.
"This isn't a decision you can take lightly," he says in a low, hoarse voice.
"I already have."
He watches you, a silence building between you, gaining more and more weight with each passing second. Then, as if something inside him finally snaps, he lets go of your wrist only to frame your face with both hands.
"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his forehead against yours.
You don't.
His breath catches as you lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When you open them again, "I won't ask again," he whispers, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.
You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly that you are sure he can hear it. But you don't step back. You don't tell him to stop. You simply tilt your chin up, just a fraction, an invitation he doesn't need twice.
His lips brush against yours, tender at first, then pressing. It's the sort of kiss that seems like one great confession, revelation, and promise all at once. His hands move to the small of your back, drawing you closer, and you can't help but melt into him, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his tunic.
When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathing hard. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and there’s a hunger in his gaze that makes your stomach flip.
"We can't…" he begins, but the words are half-hearted, not very convincing.
"We can," you correct, your voice steadier than you feel.
He looks at you for a long moment, something fierce and tender warring in his expression. Then, with a low groan, he surges forward again, capturing your lips with his own. This kiss is harder, more urgent, and you can feel the way his body trembles against yours.
“Your chambers” he mumbles against your mouth. “Now.”
Without any warning, he sweeps you into his arms, cuddling you against his chest as he heads down the hall. Your heart races with the sudden motion, but you do nothing to protest it-merely wrapping your arms around his neck for balance.
The castle is quiet at this time of night, most people having gone to bed. You feel as though you have the whole world to yourselves as Sunday carries you swiftly through the halls, his footsteps echoing in the stillness.
He doesn’t wait around when you reach your chambers: he kicks the door shut behind you and pins you against it with his body, hands roaming over your curves, mapping out your form through the layers of your gown.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he growls, his lips trailing hot kisses along your jawline. “Wanted you.”
You arch into him, your head falling back as you let him in closer. "Then take me," you whisper, fingers curling in his hair.
He makes a low sound in his throat, something between a groan and a growl. His fingers find the fastenings of your dress and begin to undo them one by one, till the fabric pools at your feet. You stand before him clad in nothing other than your chemise, the thin material doing little to mask the signs of your body's reaction to his touch.
His gaze rakes over you, hungry and appreciative. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist.
He lifts you easily and sets you down on the bed. The sheets are cold against your bare skin as he lays you down, his body following yours, looking down at you with an intensity that takes the breath from your lungs.
"You sure about this?" he asks low, his voice rough with emotion.
You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life," you whisper.
That seems to be the only confirmation he needs. He bends down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that sends a tide of heat through your body, his tongue plunging into your mouth to taste you thoroughly. You moan against his lips, your hands roving over his hard back.
His lips trail down your neck, tracing a path of fire in their wake. He pauses to suckle at your pulse point, and you can feel the way your heart races beneath his tongue. His hands slip under your chemise, and his calloused fingers skim the sensitive skin of your stomach.
"Sunday-" you gasp, arching into his touch.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “Just relax.”
You do your best to listen, focusing on the feel of his hands on your skin. He explores you at leisure, learning every dip and curve, every spot that makes you sigh or whimper. By the time he carefully removes your panties, you're trembling with need.
He looks up at you, his eyes dark with wanting. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he says, his fingers teasing at your entrance.
"Don't-please-."
He pauses, his fingers stilling above your pussy. His eyes meet yours, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. "Are you-" he starts, his voice soft.
You nod, knowing exactly what he’s going to ask, "I've never…”
His expression softens further, if that’s even possible. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises. “We’ll take this slow.”
As you nod, he drops between your legs and his breath ghosts over your folds. He starts off slow, his tongue tracing delicate patterns and teasing you with light touches until, gradually, the pressure builds up, licking and sucking on your clit until you're gasping and writhing beneath him.
His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he works you with his mouth. He is patient, very attentive, judging by your reactions and modulating his technique accordingly. When you're trembling near the edge, he slips a finger inside you, then two, stretching you slowly.
"That's it," he mutters, his voice muffled against your skin.
He groans against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers through you. "You taste so fucking good," he mumbles, his words just a little slurred. "Can't get enough."
As he continues to lap at your clit, his free hand slides down his own body, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. You can hear the slick sound of skin on skin as he begins to stroke himself.
"Fuck," he gasps, his hips bucking into his hand. "Want to be inside you so badly."
He redoubles his efforts, his tongue delving deep, his fingers pumping faster. The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, and you can feel your orgasm building, your inner walls starting to flutter around his fingers.
"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "Come for me, baby. I want to taste you."
With a few more well-placed licks, you're there, crying out as pleasure crashes over you in waves. He laps at your release, his own hand moving frantically over his cock, his groans muffled from where he’s buried himself against your folds.
He easily settles himself between your thighs, his cock at your entrance. His eyes were filled with a mixture of lust and tenderness as he looked down at you.
"You ready?" he asks, his voice low and rough.
You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Yes," you whisper. "I'm ready."
With a low groan, he starts to push inside, slow and careful with his movements. There's only a slight sting as he pushes in deeper, his eyes widening in concern.
"Does it hurt?" he asks, his brow furrowed.
You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face. "No, I'm okay. Please, don't stop."
He searches your eyes for a moment, then nods, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.
You can feel every inch of him as he stretches you, filling you in a way you never have been filled before; it's agonisingly slow, but he refuses to be selfish and make this about his own pleasure.
"Fuck," he gasps, his forehead resting against yours. "You feel incredible."
He gives you a moment to adjust, his hips pressed flush against yours. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and shallow at first. Each drag of his cock against your sensitive walls sends sparks of pleasure through you, and you can't help but moan.
"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "Let me hear you."
He increases his pace gradually, his hands gripping your hips for leverage. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your gasps and cries.
He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans. His tongue delves into your mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his hips.
"You're taking me so well," he praises, his breath hot against your ear. "Such a good girl."
His hips roll in a steady rhythm, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through you. One hand slides up your side, cupping your breast and thumbing your nipple. The dual sensations make you gasp into his mouth.
"You're so beautiful," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours. "So perfect."
He shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. You cry out as he hits a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you.
"There," he groans, doing it again. "Is that good?"
You can only nod, your nails digging into his back as he drives you higher and higher. The pleasure builds with each stroke, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.
He groans, his hips snapping forward as he buries himself deep inside you. "Fuck, angel," he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. "I love you. I've loved you for so long."
The confession bursts from his lips in something like prayer, and his eyes shine with its vehemence. It is as though a dam has burst inside him and all his pent-up feelings are pouring out in this moment.
"I know you're s'posed to pick one from the court," he goes on, his pistoning never flagging. "But don't. Please. Don't give yourself to anybody else."
His hands clamp down on your hips, fingers digging in soft. "Choose me," he begs, his voice cracking. "Be mine. Only mine."
You can almost feel the desperation in his words, the raw need. It's readily apparent how the thought of you with another man is tearing him apart.
"I'll do anything," he whispers, his forehead against yours. "Anything to keep you. Just say you'll be mine."
His words are like a warm bath washing over you, filling your heart full of something that has nothing to do with physical pleasure. In this moment, you know without a single doubt that you want to be his and his alone.
"I'm yours," you breathe, legs wrapping around his waist. "Now and always." He surges forward, capturing your lips in a reverent, passionate kiss. He picks up speed, his hips moving faster, harder, as though he's trying to pour every ounce of love he has into you.
"I love you," he gasps against your mouth. "I love you so much."
His thrusts grow more erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Fuck," he groans. "I'm close. So close."
You could feel him throbbing inside of you, his cock pulsing with each stroke. Your pleasure was mounting to a crescendo as well, your inner walls fluttering around him.
"Come with me," he pleads, voice ragged. "I want to feel you come undone." His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, and that's all it takes. You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking with the force of it.
He follows a moment later, his hips stuttering as he spills himself deep inside you. He falls on top of you, his weight pinning you to the mattress. His cock still is buried deep inside, pulsating with aftershocks of his orgasm.
He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "That was... incredible," he murmurs, his voice muffled.
His arms wrap around you, holding you close. It's a protective gesture, as if he's afraid you might slip away if he lets go.
"Stay with me," he whispers, his lips brushing your pulse point. "Don't leave me."
You curl into him, relishing the feeling of his body against yours. "I'm not going anywhere," you promise. "I'm right here."
He sighs contentedly, his grip on you loosening slightly. "Good," he murmurs. "Because I don't think I could bear it if you married any of them."
You smile, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his back. In this moment, everything feels right. The world outside might be chaos, but here, in his arms, you're safe. You're home.
༉ - 3.1k
Argenti sat on the floor of your dorm room, trying his best not to feel completely out of place. He’d been here a few times already—enough to recognise the familiar scent of citrus from the candles you always kept burning. But even so, it still felt a little surreal. You, the girl everyone at the university seemed to know and admire, had somehow invited him into your space.
He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. One night, a random chat at a party turned into shared laughs, then another conversation, until the two of you were talking long after your friends had left. Since then, you’d found reasons to hang out, even though it seemed to baffle everyone around you. You, the social butterfly, and him, the reserved guy who somehow ended up regularly meeting up with you outside of classes.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” you suddenly said, breaking the comfortable silence as you lounged on your bed.
“What’s weird?” Argenti asked, glancing up from the guitar pick he’d been absentmindedly fiddling with.
“Us.” You made a vague gesture between the two of you, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I mean, we’re just very different”
Argenti blinked, unsure of what you meant. Was it a good different? Or a bad one? “I—I guess,” he stammered, his voice unsure. “But it works, doesn’t it?”
You tilted your head, studying him with an expression he couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, it does,” you finally said, your smile softening. “You’re sweet, Argenti.”
“Thanks?” he mumbled, his face warming up. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but the compliment made him feel a little lighter.
You laughed at his blush suddenly wondering if there was a reason he became so flustered over small things. Sitting up, you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”
Argenti froze, his face going red in an instant. “Uh… why?”
You shrugged, clearly amused by his reaction. “Because you’ve got that look. You know, like you’ve thought about it a lot but never actually done it.”
“I don’t… have a look,” he muttered, but even his awkward attempt to brush it off didn’t work. “But no. I haven’t.”
Your eyes widened, and then you laughed—a genuine, playful laugh that felt more teasing than mean. “Wait, seriously? Not even like a dare or something?”
He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you. “No,” he mumbled, feeling heat crawl up his neck. “I just… never really had the chance.”
You didn’t let up. “You’re telling me you’ve gone your whole life without even one kiss?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” he blurted out, immediately regretting it. He winced, wishing he could take the words back.
“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, the teasing gleam in your eyes shifting into something more playful. “Are you saying you want to change that?”
“I—I didn’t mean—” Argenti stammered, his face burning. But then your hand brushed lightly against his arm, and he looked up to find you studying him, a mysterious glint in your eyes.
“You want me to teach you?” you asked, your voice quiet now, though still carrying that playful edge.
His heart skipped a beat. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”
“Relax, Argenti,” you said, leaning in just a little closer. “I’m not doing this out of pity. Trust me, you’re a good looking guy, pretty face.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or combust, but before he could say anything, you were already moving in, your gaze locked on his as you tilted your head. “Okay,” you murmured, voice soft. “Here’s how this works. Don’t overthink it. Just… follow my lead, alright?”
He nodded, his thoughts jumbled as he fought to find his bearings. Then your lips brushed against his—gentle, almost tentative, testing the waters. It was quick, almost too quick, and when you pulled away, you studied him with an amused expression, clearly pleased by the way he’d reacted.
Argenti’s mind spun for a moment, still reeling from the sudden soft pressure of your lips. But as your eyes met his again, something inside him clicked. The hesitation, the awkwardness—it all seemed so distant now. This was real, and there was no way he was going to let it slip away.
Without thinking, his hand rose to cup your cheek, gently pulling you toward him. His heart raced as the space between you vanished, and in a smooth motion, he leaned in again, this time with a newfound confidence.
The kiss came quickly, without hesitation, and it was unrestrained, still soft, but with a sense of urgency he hadn’t expected. He kissed you with intention now, the sweetness and eagerness spilling out in the way his lips moved against yours. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, pulling you just a little closer as if he wanted to lose himself in the moment. He’d never felt anything like this before.
The kiss wasn’t perfect. He stumbled a little, his lips not quite finding the rhythm, a few moments of clumsy movement as he tried to keep up. But in that imperfection, there was something pure. There was something real about it. Each time his lips brushed against yours, a little out of sync, you were patient, guiding him back.
It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a seasoned kisser. He made up for it with sweetness—lingering just a little longer than necessary, his hand never leaving your cheek, as if it was the only thing that mattered in the world. Each time he leaned back in, he was driven by a need to prove that he could do this, that he wanted to be here with you.
When he finally pulled back, his breath coming in shallow gasps, he couldn’t help but glance up at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as if he’d just run a marathon. His lips were swollen, and a nervous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “I probably messed that up.”
But when your gaze met his, there was no judgement, only amusement—and something softer, something deeper in your eyes.
“No,” you said gently, tracing your fingers along his jaw. “You didn’t mess it up. It was… sweet. Really sweet.”
Argenti’s heart did a flip at the praise, and the knot in his stomach began to loosen. “I just—wanted to do it right,” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t want to mess it up with you.”
You smiled, that familiar teasing gleam still in your eyes, but now with something warmer behind it. “Well, you didn’t. And if it helps, I think you’ve got a lot of potential. It’s just… practice.” You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling mischievously. “And maybe a little bit of confidence. But don’t worry, I’m happy to teach you.”
The words sent a thrill through him. “I think I could learn from you,” he said, his voice a little breathless, his smile genuine. He was starting to feel more at ease, less unsure of himself. “I don’t mind practising.”
You laughed softly, your fingers brushing across his cheek, sending another wave of warmth through him. “Good,” you said, your voice light but sincere. “Because I’m not letting you off that easily.”
He leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, eliminating any distance between your bodies.
He could feel the warmth of your skin through your clothes, could smell the faint scent of your perfume. It was dizzying, overwhelming in the best way. He lost himself in the sensation, in the taste of your lips, the softness of your mouth.
When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard. Argenti's eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire. "I want..." he started, then faltered, unsure how to put the ache inside him into words.
"What do you want, Argenti?" you asked, your voice a husky whisper. Your hands slid down his chest, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.
"I want to touch you," he breathed, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. "I want to see you" He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I want you."
He watched as your eyes searched his face, saw the moment understanding dawned. A slow, seductive smile spread across your lips, and your fingers tightened on his shirt. "Then show me what you want." you whispered, your voice low and sultry.
Argenti's breath caught, his body responding instantly to your words. Emboldened, he reached for you, his hands finding the hem of your shirt. Slowly, he lifted it, revealing inch after inch of smooth, warm skin. He drank in the sight of you, committing every curve and dip to memory.
When the shirt fell away, he leaned in, pressing his lips to the hollow of your throat. You tilted your head back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses along your collarbone. His hands roamed your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra.
He could feel your heart racing beneath his touch, could hear the hitch in your breath as his fingers found the clasp of your bra. With a deft movement, he unhooked it, letting the garment fall away. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, naked from the waist up, your breasts full and perfect.
Unable to resist, he cupped one in his palm, marvelling at the feel of it, the softness. He thumbed your nipple, watching it pebble under his touch. Your breath hitched, and you arched into him, wordlessly encouraging him.
He took the hardened nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as he lavished attention on your breasts, alternating between gentle sucking and teasing nips.
Your skin was hot beneath his hands, your body pliant and responsive. He could feel the heat building between your legs, could sense your arousal growing with each passing moment. It spurred him on, fuelled his own desire.
“Let me-” you whispered, wanting to help him out, noticing his obvious bulge.
Argenti's breath hitched as your hands moved to his belt, your fingers deftly working to undo the buckle. He watched, transfixed, as you slowly unzipped his jeans, your knuckles brushing against his straining erection.
He swallowed hard, his hips twitching involuntarily at the contact. "I want to make you feel good too," he managed to say, his voice rough with need.
You smiled, a wicked gleam in your eyes. "Patience," you purred, pushing his jeans and boxers down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.
You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip. Argenti groaned, his head falling back as pleasure coursed through him. "Fuck," he gasped, his hips bucking into your touch.
You increased your pace, your grip firm but gentle. Your other hand cupped his balls, rolling them in your palm. "It’s pretty" you murmured, your breath hot against his ear.
Argenti's heart raced as your hand worked him over, pleasure sparking through his veins with each stroke. His cock throbbed in your grip, the sensation almost too intense to bear.
"Your hand—it feels incredible," he panted, his voice strained with need.
You smiled, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him. Your thumb swiped over the sensitive head, smearing the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there. You lowered your head, your tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up his shaft. Argenti's breath caught, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.
You took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. Your tongue swirled around him as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each descent. The wet heat of your mouth was exquisite, driving Argenti wild with pleasure. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he fought the urge to thrust into you.
You hummed around him, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.
Argenti's grip on your hair tightened as you took him deeper, your throat constricting around his throbbing cock. The sensation was indescribable, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Pleasure built at the base of his spine, coiling tighter and tighter with each pass of your tongue.
He could feel his orgasm approaching, the tightening of his muscles. But he didn't want this to end, not yet. He wanted to savour every moment, every sensation.
He quickly pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. You looked up at him, your lips swollen, your eyes heavy-lidded with desire.
"I need to be inside you," he rasped, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you around me when I come."
You chuckle at his neediness as you lean across your bed, grabbing a condom from your drawer.
Argenti's eyes widened as you retrieved a condom from your drawer, a mix of anticipation and nerves fluttering in his stomach. He watched as you tore open the packet and then rolled the condom onto his cock, your fingers brushing against his sensitive skin, making him shudder.
Once the condom was in place, you turned around, giving Argenti a tantalising view of your ass as you bent over slightly. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs, revealing your pussy to him.
Argenti's mouth went dry at the sight, his cock twitching with renewed interest. He stepped forward, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he pressed himself against you. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin.
Argenti's hands trembled slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his condom-sheathed cock nudging against your slick folds. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, beckoning him to plunge inside.
"I've never done this before," he admitted softly, his voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and excitement. "I want to do it right. I want to make you feel good."
You glanced back at him over your shoulder, a reassuring smile on your lips. "Just go slow," you murmured, reaching back to guide him forward. "And don't worry about doing it perfectly. Just focus on how it feels."
Argenti nodded, taking a deep breath as he began to push forward. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever experienced - the tight heat of your pussy enveloping him, drawing him deeper. He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he savoured the feeling. Inch by inch, he sank into you, until he was buried to the hilt.
Argenti bit down on his lip, fighting the urge to come right then and there. The sensation of being inside you was overwhelming, your tight heat gripping him like a vice. He could feel every flutter of your walls around his cock, every pulse of your arousal.
"Shit-” he gasped, his hips twitching involuntarily.
He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. He wanted this to last, wanted to make it good for you.
Slowly, carefully, he began to move, pulling out until just the tip remained inside before sliding back in. He set a steady rhythm, rocking into you with deep, measured strokes. Your moans filled the room, spurring him on. He could feel your body responding to his, your hips pushing back to meet his thrusts.
"Is this good?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
Your reassuring moans and the way your body moved against his told Argenti all he needed to know. He continued to thrust, gradually increasing his pace as he grew more confident.
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your breathy gasps and his low groans. Sweat beaded on his brow as he lost himself in the sensation, in the feel of your body beneath his. He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in his core. But he held back, determined to make sure you reached your peak first.
His hand slid around your hip, finding your clit. He rubbed in slow circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Argenti's fingers worked your clit in time with his thrusts, the dual stimulation driving you closer to the edge. He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around him as your pleasure mounted.
"That's it," he encouraged, his voice low and rough. "Come for me. Let me feel you."
Your moans grew louder, more urgent, and Argenti knew you were close. He redoubled his efforts, thrusting harder, faster, his fingers circling your clit with increasing pressure.
Suddenly, your back arched, your head thrown back in ecstasy as your orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy clenched around him, rippling along his cock, and Argenti groaned, the sensation pushing him over the brink.
With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he came hard. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, his vision whiting out as he rode out the intensity of his release.
For a long moment, neither of you moved, both lost in the aftermath of your shared climax. Finally, Argenti slipped out of you, disposing of the condom before collapsing beside you on the bed. He turned his head to look at you, a lazy smile on his lips.
Argenti's heart swelled at the gentle press of your lips against his forehead. The simple, tender gesture spoke volumes, conveying a depth of care and affection that he'd never experienced before.
He reached up, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulled you down for a soft, lingering kiss. It was different from the heated passion of before, this kiss. It was sweet, almost chaste, a physical manifestation of the connection growing between you.
When you pulled away, he gazed into your eyes, his own shining with a mix of contentment and wonder.
“You’re a natural.” you joke with a soft laugh as you wrap your arms around him.
Argenti chuckled, the sound deep and rich as he rested his head against your chest. "I think I'm a quick learner."
༉ - 2.5k
The casino floor was alive with energy, especially at your table. You and Aventurine had been on a streak for so long it was starting to turn heads. Chips piled up in neat stacks in front of you both, the gleam of gold and the scent of success making the night feel almost unreal.
“Another win,” Aventurine announced casually as the dealer slid another stack his way. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, the picture of effortless cool. “But let’s be real here. This run? It’s all because of me. Clearly, I’m your lucky charm.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms as you gave him an incredulous look. “You’re my lucky charm? I think you’ve got that backwards. If anything, you should be thanking me.”
He chuckled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Oh, is that how it is? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like I’ve been carrying this team all night.”
You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Carrying? Please. I’m pretty sure the only thing you’ve carried is that overinflated ego of yours.”
Aventurine laughed, a low, warm sound that sent a pleasant thrill up your spine. He tilted his head, his gaze locking with yours in a way that made your pulse quicken. “You talk a big game for someone who wouldn’t be winning without me. Admit it—you’re having fun because I’m here.”
You leaned in closer, matching his energy. “Oh, absolutely,” you said, voice dripping with mock sincerity. “It’s so much fun watching you pretend you’re the reason we’re winning when we both know who’s really the lucky one here.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, the playful challenge in them unmistakable. “Careful, or I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”
You grinned, tapping a finger on the table. “What can I say? You’re entertaining, like a fancy slot machine with nice hair.”
Aventurine barked a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “A slot machine? That’s the best you’ve got?” He leaned even closer, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve got some nerve.”
“And you love it,” you said with a wink, surprising even yourself with the boldness of your words.
Aventurine’s grin widened, his eyes glinting as he tilted his head slightly. “You know what? You might be right. Guess I’ve got a weakness for confident types.”
The air between you shifted, the playful banter taking on a sharper edge. You refused to back down, instead, you leaned in, your faces just inches apart now.
“Careful, Aventurine,” you said, your voice soft but laced with teasing. “If you keep flirting like that, I might start thinking you’re not just here for the gambling.”
His gaze flicked to your lips for just a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes, his smirk now decidedly more dangerous. “Maybe I’m not.”
The tension between you and Aventurine was electric, the noise of the casino fading into a distant hum. His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with mischief and something more daring. Slowly, deliberately, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, metallic keycard.
He twirled it between his fingers like it was a chip, the move impossibly smooth. “You’re good at reading between the lines,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “Think you can figure out what this means?”
Your gaze flicked to the keycard, then back to his face, your heart pounding as your brain scrambled for a witty retort. “Oh, I don’t know,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like you’re trying to skip ahead in the game. Aren’t you supposed to take me out to dinner first?”
Aventurine chuckled, the sound rumbling and warm. He slid the card across the table, stopping it just in front of your hand.
You picked up the card slowly, holding it between your fingers as if weighing your options. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” he said smoothly, leaning back with a confidence that was infuriatingly attractive. “Unless you count spending more time with me. But if that’s too much of a gamble, I’d understand.”
He collected his chips as he stood up, leaving the table, “Don’t keep me waiting too long. Wouldn’t want that luck to run out, now would we?”
You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you stood, slipping the card into your pocket. “Not a chance.”
—
You locate the room number on the keycard and slide it into the lock. The door swings open to reveal a spacious suite, all sleek lines and modern decor, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city lights below.
Aventurine is leaning against the wall by the window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He turns as you enter, his eyes glinting in the dim light.
"I wasn't sure if you'd actually show," he says, his voice a low purr. "But I'm glad you did."
You close the door behind you, turning to face him fully. "And miss an opportunity like this? Not a chance."
He pushes off the wall, closing the distance between you with a few easy strides. "Opportunity for what, exactly?" he asks, his gaze roaming over your features with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.
You meet his eyes boldly, refusing to be intimidated. "For whatever you have planned," you say, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart.
Aventurine's lips curve into a smirk, his hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw with a feather-light touch. "Careful what you wish for," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your skin. "You might just get it."
Your pulse races at his touch, desire and anticipation coiling tightly in your belly. "Promises, promises," you breathe, tilting your head into his palm.
His answering chuckle is dark and full of promise. "Oh, I always keep my promises," he says, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.
And then his lips are on yours, hot and demanding, and you're lost in the taste and feel of him, the world falling away until there's nothing but the two of you, caught up in a dance.
You melt into the kiss, your hands coming up to tangle in Aventurine's hair, pulling him closer as you press your body against his. He responds eagerly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours.
He tastes of whiskey and sin, and you can't get enough. Your fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest beneath your palms. He groans into your mouth, his hips pressing forward to grind against you, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.
"Bedroom," he rasps against your lips, his voice rough with desire.
You nod, breathless and wanting, allowing him to lead you towards the bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind you, then spins you around, pinning you against it with his body. His hands are everywhere, slipping under your clothes to stroke heated skin, his mouth trailing fire along your neck.
"You're so fucking sexy," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "I've wanted this since the moment I saw you."
Your breath hitches as Aventurine's hands roam your body, his touch setting your skin ablaze with desire. You arch into him, craving more, needing to feel every inch of him against you.
He groans, low and primal, his hips grinding harder against yours. His hands slip under your shirt, pushing it up and off, leaving you bare from the waist up. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes dark with lust.
"Fuck, you're perfect," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts. He leans down, his mouth hot against your skin as he kisses a trail down your sternum, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipple.
You gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. "Please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for, only knowing that you need more, need him.
He chuckles, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Patience, love," he purrs, his hands sliding down to pop the button of your jeans. "We've got all night."
And then he's on his knees in front of you. He looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes hooded and full of promise.
"Let me taste you," he murmurs, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your jeans.
You nod mutely, your heart pounding in your chest as Aventurine slowly slides your jeans down your legs, his hands caressing your skin as he goes. He tosses them aside carelessly, leaving you in nothing but your panties, which are already damp with arousal.
He leans forward, his breath hot against your panties. "You're so wet for me already," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the damp spot. "I've barely touched you, and you're dripping."
You squirm under his touch, desperate for more. "Please," you whimper, your hands fisting in his hair. "I need..."
"Shh," he soothes, placing a kiss over your clothed pussy, licking a stripe along your covered slit. "I know what you need. Just relax and let me take care of you."
And then he's pulling your panties aside, his fingers stroking through your slick folds. You gasp, your hips bucking into his touch. He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin.
"So responsive," he praises, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. "I can't wait to taste you."
And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds, lapping at your essence. You cry out, your head falling back against the door as waves of pleasure crash over you.
He works you skilfully, his tongue alternating between broad strokes and targeted flicks against your clit. His fingers join in, pumping in and out of you, curling to hit that spot inside that makes you see stars.
Your legs tremble as Aventurine's skilled mouth works you over, his tongue delving deep, lapping at your essence. The pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your core, threatening to snap at any moment.
"Aventurine," you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair, pressing his face harder against your aching pussy. "I'm... I'm going to-"
He moans in response, the vibrations sending you hurtling over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, your vision whiting out as ecstasy consumes you. You grind against his face, riding out the waves of pleasure, his name a broken cry on your lips.
He doesn't stop, prolonging your climax, his fingers and tongue working in tandem to wring every last drop of pleasure from your body. Finally, you collapse back against the door, boneless and sated, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.
Aventurine rises, his face glistening with your arousal. He licks his lips, his eyes dark with hunger. "So sweet," he purrs, his voice rough. "I could do that forever.”
You can only moan in response, your body still thrumming with aftershocks. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
He takes your hand, leading you to the bed, pushing you down onto the plush mattress. He crawls over you, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the sheets.
"I need to be inside you," he growls, his hips grinding against yours, letting you feel the hard length of him through his pants. "I need to feel you wrapped around me, squeezing me.”
You reach down, fumbling with the button of his pants, desperate to free his cock. He helps you, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to spring free, his erection bobbing against your stomach.
"Please," you whimper, wrapping your hand around him, stroking the velvety soft skin. "I need you, too. I need to feel you stretch me, fill me."
He groans, his hips thrusting into your hand. "Fuck, you're killing me," he pants, reaching down to position himself at your entrance.
With a single, powerful thrust, Aventurine pushes his cock all the way inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as your body struggles to adjust to his size. He stills, giving you a moment to acclimate, his forehead resting against yours.
"Breathe," he murmurs, his hips flexing slightly, sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Just breathe, love. I've got you."
You take a shuddering breath, your inner walls fluttering around him. Slowly, you begin to move, rocking your hips against his, urging him deeper. He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to thrust, setting a slow, deep rhythm.
"You feel incredible," he pants, his lips brushing against your ear. "I could stay buried inside you forever and die happy."
You clench around him, relishing the feel of him stretching you, filling you. "More," you demand, your nails digging into his back.
He laughs breathlessly, complying with your request, his hips snapping against yours with increased force. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.
Aventurine's thrusts grow more erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp pants as he nears his peak. His hands grip your hips bruisingly, holding you in place as he pounds into you, the force of his thrusts pushing you up the bed.
"Come with me," he demands, his voice a guttural growl. "I want to feel you come undone around my cock."
Your body tenses, your inner walls fluttering around him as your orgasm approaches. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he finds his release.
The feel of him coming inside you is enough to push you over the edge. You cry out, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows you, his hips jerking as he spills his cum deep within you.
You collapse back against the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Aventurine follows suit, laying down beside you. He leans over peppering your face with soft kisses, his hands stroking your hair, your back, your sides. "You’re beautiful" he murmurs, his voice soft with satisfaction.
You smile, turning your head to capture his lips in a tender kiss. "You're not so bad yourself," you tease, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his sweat-slicked skin.
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours. "I aim to please," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "And I'm not done with you yet, love. Not by a long shot."
You shiver at the promise in his words, your body already stirring with renewed desire. "Is that so?" you ask, arching an eyebrow. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"
His grin is wicked, his eyes gleaming in the low light. "Oh, I think you'll find out soon enough.”
༉ - 2.8k
Topaz’s flat was warm and inviting, the perfect spot to unwind for a casual evening. Soft amber light spilled across the room, casting a cosy glow that made the space feel like home. Somewhere in the background, faint music played that blended perfectly with the gentle clinking of glasses and low chatter.
“We’ll be right back,” Aventurine called out, with Topaz trailing close behind as they disappeared toward the kitchen.
You had settled comfortably into the corner of the sofa, a glass of wine in hand and Veritas lounging beside you. Tonight, he seemed different—relaxed in a way you rarely saw. His shirt was unbuttoned, his tie discarded, and his usually immaculate hair slightly mussed, as though he’d finally let the weight of the day slip away.
The air between you buzzed with the kind of easy familiarity that only came with years of friendship, though tonight there was something else–.
“Another top-up?” Veritas asked, his voice smoother and slower than usual as he reached for the wine bottle on the low table. Without waiting for an answer, he topped off your glass and then poured more into his own.
“You’re a terrible influence,” you teased, though you made no move to stop him. “If I wake up with a headache tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”
He smirked, swirling his wine with an air of mock innocence. “I’d argue it’s your fault for being such agreeable company.”
The words lingered, their meaning sharper than his usual dry humour. You glanced down at your glass, suddenly unsure what to say. Was it the wine, or was there something more in his tone tonight?
“Quiet now, are we?” he teased, leaning in just slightly. “You’re usually quicker with a retort.”
You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “Just giving you a moment to bask in your supposed wit.”
His chuckle was low and warm, the kind of sound that settled somewhere deep in your chest. His knee grazed yours, a light touch that didn’t feel accidental. When you shifted slightly, his arm brushed against yours and lingered, just enough to make you wonder if he’d noticed it too.
“I’ve always admired that about you,” he said, his voice quieter now.
“Admired what?” you asked, your pulse quickening.
“You have this way of making even the most tedious conversations feel alive.” His eyes softened, and for a moment, he wasn’t the sharp, collected man you knew so well. “Though I don’t think this moment qualifies as tedious, does it?”
You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No. It doesn’t.”
Neither of you moved for a moment. His hand found yours, his fingers warm and steady, and though the gesture caught you off guard, you didn’t pull away. His thumb traced slow circles over your skin, sending a rush of heat up your arm.
“Veritas—” you began, but your voice faltered.
“Too much?” he asked gently, his brows drawing together, as if he was ready to let go at the slightest hint of hesitation.
“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Not too much.”
His shoulders relaxed, and the faintest trace of a smile appeared on his lips. He shifted closer, his arm sliding along the back of the sofa until his fingers brushed your shoulder. The scent of his cologne—something crisp with a faint warmth beneath it—lingered in the space between you, making your head swim.
The world beyond the sofa seemed to fade. His presence filled the room, his thumb still tracing light, deliberate circles on your hand. When his fingers grazed your neck, their touch feather-light, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you.
“You’ve gone quiet again,” he murmured, his tone both teasing and earnest. “Should I be worried?”
You turned to face him, and suddenly his face was so close to yours. His gaze locked onto yours, and your breath hitched. It felt impossible to look away.
“Not worried,” you managed softly. “Just… thinking.”
“Dangerous,” he quipped, though his voice held less humour now. His hand shifted, brushing along the curve of your jaw. His touch was barely there, yet it lit up every nerve. “Care to share?”
You hesitated, not because you didn’t know what to say, but because the words carried weight. “I was thinking,” you said slowly, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart, “that you don’t seem as restrained as usual tonight.”
A flicker of something—surprise, maybe—passed across his face before he smirked. But it wasn’t his usual teasing smirk; it was softer, quieter, like he didn’t want to scare the moment away. “Restraint,” he murmured, “has its time and place. And this… doesn’t feel like one of them.”
The charged silence between you was almost unbearable. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you plenty of time to stop him, but you didn’t.
When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was gentle and tentative, like he was testing the waters. It was fleeting, yet it left your heart racing. His hand slipped to your jaw, steady and warm as he kissed you again, this time with more certainty.
You melted into him, your hands coming to rest against his chest. His heartbeat was fast beneath your palms, and when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“We should…” His voice was rough now, laced with restraint. “Move somewhere more private.”
Your heart jumped at the suggestion, and you nodded, your voice barely audible. “Yeah.”
He stood smoothly, his hand slipping into yours as he cast a quick glance toward the kitchen. When he was sure your friends were still out of sight, he guided you down the hallway. His touch was firm, grounding, but there was a tenderness in the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles.
At the end of the hall, he paused outside a closed door. His free hand found the handle, turning it slowly. The hinge creaked softly as he pushed the door open, revealing the spare bedroom. He guided you inside, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The room was small but cosy, with a large window that let in a silver glow.
Veritas turned to face you, his expression a blend of uncertainty and desire. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "We can stop if you want to."
His words were sincere, giving you an out if you needed it. But the way his eyes roamed over your face, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours, betrayed his own longing.
You took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "I'm sure," you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your palm, and you marvelled at the softness of his stubble against your fingers.
He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. When he opened them again, they were dark with want.
He captured your mouth in a searing kiss. It was nothing like the tentative brush of lips from earlier. This time, there was no holding back. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat of his body through your clothes, the firmness of his muscles.
You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. He tasted of wine and something uniquely him - a flavour you knew you'd crave forever. His tongue teased your lower lip before delving into your mouth, exploring and claiming with a passion that left you breathless.
Slowly, he walked you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he looked down at you. "Tell me you want this," he breathed, his hands settling on your hips. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."
The words were a plea, a confession. In this moment, the usually composed and controlled Veritas Ratio was laid bare before you, vulnerable and wanting. Your heart swelled with affection and desire.
"I want this," you whispered, your hands sliding up his chest to link behind his neck. "I need you. Please, Veritas..."
His name on your lips seemed to break the last of his restraint. With a groan, he kissed you again, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.
It wasn’t long before Veritas' fingers deftly worked at the zipper on his trousers, his movements quick yet precise, revealing the bulge straining against his underwear. With a deft tug, he freed his cock, the hard length springing forth, already flushed and throbbing with need.
He stepped back slightly, giving you a moment to take in the sight of him. Moonlight spilled across his body, highlighting the contours of his muscles, the defined lines of his abs. His cock was long, with a prominent vein on the underside.
You wasted no time, sinking to your knees before him. The plush carpet cushioned your knees, but you barely noticed. His cock jutted out, hard and proud, the tip glistening with pre-cum in the moonlight.
Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for him, fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft. He was hot and heavy in your grasp, the skin velvety soft over the rigid flesh beneath. You stroked him slowly, savouring the weight of him, the way he twitched and throbbed against your palm.
Veritas groaned, his head falling back as he savoured your touch. "God," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "Feels so good-”
His words sent a shiver down your spine, stoking the fire building in your core. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. The taste of him exploded across your tongue, salty and musky, uniquely him.
Emboldened, you took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. He was big, filling your mouth completely, but you revelled in it. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head.
"Fuck," Veritas gasped, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Just like that, baby. Take me deeper."
You obeyed, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward, taking him inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you held him there, your nose pressed against his pelvis, breathing in his scent.
Veritas’ grip on your hair tightened, his hips rocking forward slightly. "God, sweetheart," he moaned, his voice strained. "You're incredible."
The praise washed over you, spurring you on. You bobbed your head, setting a steady rhythm as you worked him with your mouth. Your hands slid down to cup his balls, rolling them gently in your palm.
Veritas' hand cupped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you further down his shaft. "That's it, baby," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take all of me."
You complied eagerly, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward until your nose nestled against his pelvis. The scent of him filled your senses, musky and intoxicating. You held him there, savouring the weight of him on your tongue, the way he throbbed against your palate.
"God, beautiful-" Veritas gasped, his hips rocking forward slightly. "You're so good at this. So fucking perfect."
His words sent a thrill through you, stoking the heat building in your core. You pulled back slowly, letting him slide from your mouth with a lewd pop. Strings of saliva connected your lips to his cock, glistening in the moonlight.
"Touch yourself," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative. "I want to see you get off while you suck my cock."
Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you didn't hesitate. Your hand slid beneath your skirt. You were already soaked, your panties clinging to your skin.
You circled your clit with your fingertip, gasping at the jolt of pleasure that shot through you. Ratio watched with hooded eyes, his cock twitching in your grip.
"That's it, baby," he urged, his hand guiding your head as you took him back into your mouth. "Make yourself feel good. I want to hear you moan around my cock."
You obeyed, increasing the pressure of your fingers as you sucked him deeper. Your other hand came up to fondle his balls, rolling them gently in your palm. The combined sensations were overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second.
Veritas’ breath came in short, sharp gasps as you worked him with your mouth and hands. His cock throbbed against your tongue, the veins along the shaft pulsing with need. You could tell he was getting close, his hips rocking faster, his grip on your hair tightening.
Suddenly, he pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. "As much as I love your mouth," he panted, his eyes dark with lust, "I need to be inside you."
You nodded eagerly, your heart racing at the thought. He helped you to your feet, his hands roaming over your curves appreciatively. With a swift motion, he pushed your skirt up around your waist and tugged your panties down your thighs.
Veritas gently pushed you back onto the bed, his eyes roaming over your body with undisguised hunger. "Always been so pretty" he murmured, his hands skimming up your thighs to your hips.
He settled between your legs, the heat of his body seeping into your skin. You could feel his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come. Slowly, he pushed forward, stretching you open around him.
You gasped at the sensation, your back arching off the bed. He was so big, filling you completely. He gave you a moment to adjust before starting to move, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm.
"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder.
His words sent shivers down your spine, stoking the fire building in your core. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He obliged, his thrusts growing harder, faster.
The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful stroke. Veritas' hands gripped your hips, his fingers leaving bruises on your skin. But you didn't mind the pain, not when pleasure was coursing through your veins like liquid fire.
Despite the intense sensations coursing through your body, you bit your lip, muffling your moans and gasps. The thought of Aventurine and Topaz hearing you in the other room was enough to keep you silent, even as Veritas’ thrusts grew harder, deeper.
He seemed to sense your restraint, his eyes locking with yours in the darkness. "Don't hold back," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I want to hear you.”
You shook your head, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You couldn't risk it, couldn't bear the thought of your friends walking in and catching you in such a compromising position.
Veritas frowned slightly, but he didn't push the issue. Instead, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, swallowing your silent cries of pleasure.
His hips never stopped moving, each thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your body. You could feel your climax building, getting closer to the edge. He seemed to sense it too, his pace quickening, his breath coming in harsh pants against your ear.
"Come for me, sweetheart," he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Let go. I've got you."
His words were your undoing. With a muffled cry, you came undone, your body convulsing beneath him as you gushed around his cock. Veritas quickly pulled out, his cum shooting out and splattering on your folds.
You lay there in the aftermath, your chest heaving, your limbs trembling. He collapsed on top of you, his weight a welcome comfort.
Slowly he rolled off you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He pulled you close, your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his heart racing, matching the pounding of your own.
He kissed your shoulder softly. "We should probably get cleaned up and head back out there," he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. "Before Aventurine and Topaz come looking for us."
You nodded, leaning in to kiss him one last time before reluctantly pulling away from his warmth.
༉ - 2.5k
The training grounds hummed with the steady rhythm of swords meeting swords, the sharp ring of steel echoing in the air. You were lost in the rhythm, your every move precise as you worked through the drills Jing Yuan had set for you.
The weight of the training session was starting to catch up with you—your muscles burning, sweat trickling down your back—but you refused to stop. His gaze was always on you, but today, there was something about it that made your heart race a little.
Jing Yuan was a study in effortless grace, each movement fluid and controlled as he parried your strikes. His hair shimmered in the sunlight. His composure was unmatched—he never seemed to break a sweat, even when you were struggling to keep up. And yet, his every motion felt like a reminder that you still had so much to learn.
“You’re improving,” he said suddenly, his voice a smooth, unwavering contrast to the intensity of the training. He dodged your strike so easily it was as if he already knew it was coming. “But you’re still too tense. Stop thinking so much- Let your instincts take over.”
You nodded, trying to focus on his words. You couldn’t quite explain it, but his praise always felt so... personal. It was like he wasn’t just teaching you how to fight; he was seeing something deeper. And you hated how giddy that made you feel.
The practice continued, but with each passing moment, it became harder to focus. Every glance he gave you seemed to leave you a little more flustered, his every compliment a spark that made your heart flutter. You tried to shake it off, to stay in the moment, but your movements became a little less fluid.
“That’s better,” he said again, his eyes narrowing as he watched you catch your breath. “You have the power. You just need to learn to channel it.”
“Thanks,” you muttered, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your skin. It wasn’t that you weren’t good at sword fighting, but when Jing Yuan spoke to you like that, it felt different. His words were a quiet evaluation, but they made your heart feel exposed, as though he was seeing right through you.
Minutes blended together in a haze of quick movements and hurting muscles. The sweat on your forehead trickled, and you could feel the strain in your arms and legs, but you pushed yourself harder, determined not to disappoint him. Finally, when the session was over, you dropped your sword, your breathing heavy.
"That's enough for today," Jing Yuan said, his voice quiet yet imperative as he stepped toward you. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the fatigue in your eyes, the way you were trying to steady your breathing. "You have worked hard.
You managed a small smile, though the weight of the session left you feeling drained. "I'm fine," you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. You weren't sure if you were convincing anyone, least of all him.
He studied you a moment longer, his sharp eyes picking up the subtle signs: the way you were holding your breath, the way your hands trembled ever so slightly. With a soft sigh, he leaned in closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. The touch was light, but it sent a ripple of warmth through you, and you couldn't quite keep the flutter from your chest.
"Let me check you over-" he said, his voice dropping an octave soft yet purposeful. "make sure you're not hurt."
The words should’ve been routine, should’ve been just another part of the training, but the closeness between you, the way his gaze lingered a little longer than usual, made everything feel different. His touch was so careful as he ran his hands over your arms, your shoulders, your ribs—light and methodical, almost as if he were memorising every detail of you. Each brush of his fingers sent sparks through your skin, and you had to force yourself to breathe normally.
“Does this hurt?” His fingers pressed against a sore spot near your ribs where you'd taken a hit earlier.
You gasped softly, the breath catching in your throat, before shaking your head. "It's a little sore.
His eyes softened, a glint of concern in them as he regarded you, yet there was something else, too-something more than mere mentorship. The air between you grew thick with unspoken tension, not exactly teacher and student, but something else entirely. His presence overwhelmed you; the way he watched you-also so intense-made it even harder to think clearly.
Before you could catch yourself, your fingers grazed his chest-just the lightest touch, but it felt like an electric jolt went through you. The space between you contracted, and the pull you'd been fighting became too much. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were leaning in, your lips brushing against his in a fleeting, impulsive kiss.
The world seemed to stop for that second, and then Jing Yuan froze. His body stiffened, and for a second you thought you'd made a terrible mistake. But when he pulled back, his expression wasn't anger or confusion-it was soft, searching. His gaze lingered on your face, as if he were trying to understand the emotions swirling there.
You stepped backward in haste, heat flooding your face as you muttered, "I- I didn't mean-"
But before you could get the words out, his hand was cupping your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. His thumb stroked your skin with soft gentleness-a motion that made your heart thud. "Don't apologise," he said, his voice soft, low-assuring. "You don't have to be sorry."
The air between you seemed to thicken with the weight of the moment. Jing Yuan leaned in just slightly, giving you space to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t. You stood there, your heart racing in your chest, the tension building with each breath you took.
“I think…” he began, his voice a little quieter, “you’re not the only one who’s been holding back.”
Your breath caught in your throat. That was all he needed to say, and in that moment, the world around you seemed to fall away. The spark between you wasn’t one-sided. And maybe this was the beginning of something neither of you had expected.
Slowly, hesitantly, you reached up to cover his hand with your own, pressing it more firmly against your cheek. "Then what’s stopping us?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Jing Yuan's eyes darkened at your words, a flash of hunger in their depths. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.
You nodded, your eyes locked on his, unable to look away. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
With those words, Jing Yuan closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate, desperate kiss. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you.
You melted into him, your arms winding around his neck as you kissed him back with equal fervour. The world spun around you, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of his lips on yours, the scent of his skin, the sound of his ragged breathing.
You felt yourself being pulled into Jing Yuan's embrace, your bodies pressing together as the kiss deepened. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your head spin, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passion that left you breathless. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as you lost yourself in the sensation of his touch, his taste, his very essence.
Time seemed to stand still, the rest of the world fading away until there was nothing but the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms. Jing Yuan's hands roamed over your back, your sides, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. You arched into him, craving more of his touch.
Jing Yuan broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was a flicker of concern there too. "We should move somewhere more private," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "There are too many prying eyes here."
You nodded, your heart still racing as you glanced around the training grounds. He was right. Anyone could stumble upon you like this, could see the way you were clinging to each other, the way your lips were swollen from his kisses. The thought sent a thrill through you, even as it filled you with a sense of urgency.
Jing Yuan took your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours as he led you away from the training grounds. You followed him willingly, your steps quick and eager, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of his touch. He led you through the winding paths of the gardens, past flowering bushes and babbling fountains, until you reached a secluded grove hidden behind a curtain of willow branches.
As soon as you were out of sight, Jing Yuan pulled you into his arms once more, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your hands fisting in his hair as you kissed him back. His hands roamed over your body, slipping beneath your clothes to caress the heated skin beneath.
Your hands fumbled with the fastenings of Jing Yuan's robes, your fingers shaking with a mix of anticipation and nerves. He helped you, his own hands working to remove your clothing with a practised ease that belied his gentle touch. Soon, the fabric fell away, leaving you both bare in the dappled sunlight filtering through the willow branches.
Jing Yuan's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze appreciative as he drank in the sight of you. "You're beautiful," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. His hands skimmed over your curves, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Your fingers trailed over the hard planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his abdomen, marvelling at the feel of his skin beneath your palms.
Jing Yuan groaned at your touch, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You could feel his cock, hot and insistent against your stomach, and it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. Your own body responded in kind, aching and throbbing with a need that was almost painful in its intensity.
His lips found your neck, his teeth nibbling, and tongue leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your pulse point. You tilted your head back, giving him better access, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you lost yourself in the sensation. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you harder against him, the friction delicious and maddening all at once.
"Jing Yuan," you gasped, your voice breathy and needy. "Please..."
His response was to lift you up, wrapping your legs around him as he carried you. Jing Yuan pressed you against the cool stone wall of the garden, his body pinning you in place as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. Your legs tightened around his waist, drawing him closer, craving more of his touch.
He held you up with one arm as the other delved lower, his fingers finding your pussy. You were already wet, your body ready for him, and he groaned at the feeling. "So ready for me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "So perfect."
His fingers circled your clit, teasing and stroking, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You rocked your hips against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. Jing Yuan obliged, his fingers sliding lower to dip inside you, stretching you, preparing you for what was to come.
You could feel him, hard and heavy, pressing against your entrance. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, your body trembling with need. "Please," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you."
Jing Yuan's eyes met yours, "I've got you," he promised, his voice low and husky. And with that, he pushed forward
Jing Yuan’s cock pushed inside you slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your face for any sign of discomfort. You could feel every inch of him as he stretched you, filled you, your body adjusting to his size. It was a delicious burn, a sweet ache that only made you want more.
"Dove," he breathed, the pet name a reverent whisper on his lips. His hips pressed forward, burying himself deeper inside you, and you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped. "So tight," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips for support. "So perfect."
You clung to him, meeting his thrusts. The pleasure was immense, overwhelming, and you could feel yourself already teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Jing Yuan's thrusts grew harder, faster, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he lost himself in the feel of you.
His thrusts grew more urgent, more demanding, as he lost himself in the heat of the moment. His hips slammed against yours, driving into you with a force that had you seeing stars. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.
Jing Yuan's lips found yours again, swallowing your moans as he drove into you harder, deeper. His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, circular motions. The added stimulation was too much, and you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of pure, blinding ecstasy.
"Atta girl," Jing Yuan growled, his voice strained with his own impending release.
Your walls clenched around him, milking his length as you rode out the aftershocks of your climax. Jing Yuan followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he found his own release. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he emptied himself inside you, ropes of cum spilling inside you.
As the final waves of your shared ecstasy subsided, Jing Yuan held you close, his body still intimately connected with yours. He peppered your face with soft, tender kisses, his hands gently stroking your hair and caressing your back. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the heated passion that had just consumed you both.
"Think that was a good training session" he joked, his voice low and content.
You couldn't help but laugh, a breathless, giddy sound that bubbled up from your chest. "I think that was the best training session I've ever had," you replied, your words laced with a mix of humour and sincerity.
reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3
© lovesculprit → do not copy or translate any of my works
#may or may not have yapped...A LOT for this#eris said it was fine so here i am#chef's kiss#mwah!#ack—#archived#hsr#hsr x reader#argenti x reader#aventurine x reader#blade x reader#jing yuan x reader#sunday x reader#dr ratio x reader
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Part 01 𖥔 ˙ ˖ Loving Headcanons .ᐟ ♡ ❪ Sylus × Reader ❫
Sylus is the type of man who will love you unconditionally. He has experienced enough cruelty in his line of work, that he was both cautious and welcoming when the new feelings of love surfaced for you.
He loves suddenly pulling you in his lap, wrapping his arms around you. He just likes the way he can snuggle against your chest, hearing your heartbeat always calmed him down. It was a reassurance that you were safe.
Your head scratches. The way he lays his head on your lap, and you ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. He would absolutely melt into you, nuzzling on your tummy for more comfort.
Of course, he has so many affectionate nicknames for you: Kitten, Sweetie, Little One, Darling, My Love, My sunshine.
Sometimes, the love he has for you is so intense and consuming that he has to tone it down. You and Sylus are passionate lovers, but he doesn't want that to consume your relationship.
That's why he has made a habit of kissing your forehead every morning, afternoon and night. Of lacing your fingers together, and placing kisses on the back of your hand or your palm. Because passion yes, it's good, but too much and it becomes a hindrance to both his health and his partners.
Gifts. He loves pampering you with his money, even though he knows it makes you feel awkward. At first he thought it was because you didn't see a good outcome out of your relationship, that you didn't want to be indebted as silly as that sounds, but he soon came to find out that you were just used to more simple and humble things.
He pampered you even more after that, his eyes lighting up every time he saw you wearing the things he gave you.
As much as he respected your independence, Sylus is quite overprotective, especially when you step foot in to the N109 Zone. He had Mephisto follow you all the way to your errands, to the way back to him. And sometimes he thinks you know that he does that, but you aren't saying anything.
Dancing to his vinyl collection, after you both are a bit tipsy from the wine dinner. Twirling you under the light of the moon, thinking that happiness suited you. His heart beating on his chest fast but with content, especially when you reaffirm the love you have for him again and again.
A/N: I love writing so many soft and fluffy headcanons my heart is complete I swear!!
── ❀ ₊ ⊹ blueberry ᡣ𐭩
#❀˖°🫐₊ ⊹ blueberry ᡣ𐭩#love & deepspace#lads#love and deepspace#sylus#sylus love and deepspace#headcanon#sylus headcanons#sylus x y/n#sylus x reader#sylus x you
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—#I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS ; VIKTOR ( ARCANE ) x NEUTRAL!READER
PAIRING: Viktor x Neutral!Reader (arcane) &. GENRE: Fluff &. WARNINGS: eepy sleey viktor and like one tiny passing comment about spiders, nothing insane in this one &. WORDCOUNT: 0.6k
prompt from this list!
nixnote; I just love him so much he makes me wanna eat concrete and be a devoted housewife ykwim, just something short and sweet to hopefully get me back to writing! (loosely proofread)
You find him facedown in his research that evening, like many others that have come before— pushing aside the hefty lab door to be greeted by a waft of stale air that's laced with a dusty undertone, it makes your nose scrunch in disgust before you can turn to coax the room back into a silence that's become synonymous with the four walls; tongue swiping across the suface of your lips to rid them of the unsavoursy taste lying there.
Viktors tucked into a desk over in a cramped corner, not his usual work space but a one he retreats to when books are calling his name and his research becomes more written than practical- evident in the way the aged books have disturbed and clouded the space he's residing in.
"Vik?" you call as soft as you can, praying not to disturb the scene before you too much. His face is smushed into the page below him in a way that makes you want to reach out and tug at the meat gathering on the apples of his cheeks.
"How long have you been lay there?" you question, beginning to cross the room when he sighs— opening his lungs to speak for the first time in god knows how many hours, purpled lids fluttering slightly with the movement.
"I can't feel my legs..." he speaks, words slurred by the way his position distorts his mouth, "...infact, I can't feel anything"
It's nothing out of the ordinary but it does force a click to ripple off the tip of your tongue in disagreement- worry settling in your mind as you start to drag the tips of your fingers down the center of his back, bumping along the rivets that line your path in a way that makes his shoulders shiver and a hum reverberate deep in the back of his throat.
"yeah, your starting to blend into the furniture" you jest, cringing as you pull a cobweb from his shirt— hoping it’s from the shelves above him and he hasn't genuinely lay there for long enough to become home to a family of insects.
"You need a hand to stretch out?"
It's an open invitation, completely within his power to turn you away and do it himself but he shakes his head anyway- which you take as a signal to remove yourself from his personal space so he can slowly straighten his limbs back out.
"No..." he huffs, "...come back". It's definitive—almost a command rather than a plee but you can’t help but oblige when his unruly hair bounces around his scalp with another slight toss off his head.
Moving to his side you crouch down to be slightly below his eyeline, knee cracking loudly as you settle and awkwardly stretch an arm out to thread your fingers into the ducktails at the base of his skull- tugging ever so slightly to persuade him to open his eyes.
"You need to move Viktor" you point out the obvious.
His eyes are warm but lazy, slow blinking like a cat in pure exhaustion. The pair of you stay there for a while, knowing that you’re only delaying the inevitable ache caused the blood rushing back to Viktors legs- you own now numb from squatting by his chair but the silence is too familar, his person to homely for you to move just yet.
He breaks the trance first when he lifts his cheek from the words he was clearly so focused on previously, only for his face to twist in confusion when you burst out laughing- hand transitioning from a pat to a grab, twisting at his neck to give you the full view of his face.
"You studied so hard it sank into your skin?" you giggle, your other thumb caught between your lip—dampening the skin so you can reach out and rub at the pencil markings decorating the hollows if his cheek.
#masterlist.masterpost#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#viktor x reader fluff#viktor fluff#arcane x reader#arcane x reader fluff
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I went ahead and ran with this. Just a small little blurb, unproofed and everything, but enjoy anyways.
Father's day
When she comes into the world, sticky and red and screaming her indignation, Sylus knows he has never known love before. He'd thought he knew, the moment when you'd stared at him one lazy afternoon, eyes suddenly brimming with tears, and he realized you'd remembered. He'd thought he knew, then, when he breathed his last, and your - the other you - tears fell unbidden, showering his cheeks with grief.
But now, as years of love fell from your exhausted eyes as you looked at him holding your newborn daughter, and he stared down at the bundle in his arms, still screaming at the top of her lungs, only now does he feel he truly knows.
And, instantly, he also truly knows fear. Inwardly frantic but outwardly composed - or so he thinks- he carefully pushes at the the tiny hat they put on her up and off, the pads of his fingers ghosting over the soft skull. He breathes a sigh of relief as he finds nothing but the still sticky, downy hair, and quickly pulls the hat in place again.
—---------------------------------------------
Quietly humming, you sit on the edge of the pink little bed, littered with all the plushies the both of you have ever won, the tiny body of your two year old in your lap as you sit brushing her silver hair, already falling to her shoulders. You notice his shadow as he leans against the doorframe, gazing at his world before him.
Your daughter suddenly cries out in pain as you pass the brush over the top of her head, and Sylus nearly bowls you over in his haste to inspect the source of her discomfort. He coos at the little girl in your lap, consoling her as his fingers card gently through her silvery locks, probing her scalp. You look on, amused at his reaction.
“It's just a tangle,” you say, bemused, as you pick up the brush again, apologizing to your daughter for pulling at said tangle.
“It would appear so,” he says, the tone of his voice hard to read despite your years together.
—---------------------------------------------------
“I swear, all she lacks is a pair of horns,” you exclaim in exasperation one day, as you're venting about her toddler antics while he cooks up one of your favorite dishes.
The pan clatters to the ground, oil splattering the cabinets as Sylus whips towards you, a look in his eyes that you haven’t been at the receiving end of since your first meeting.
“What did you say?” he growls at you, and it's as if the light flees from his presence as he rounds the kitchen island, towering over you, eyes glowing.
You retreat against a wall, shocked by his sudden enmity. “It's just an expression,” you growl back, fighting to overcome your flight response.
He snaps out of it just as suddenly. “I'm sorry, kitten,” he murmurs in your ear as he draws your rigid form into his arms, “I don't know what came over me.”
He makes it up to you, with dinner and at night, but his burning eyes linger in the back of your mind.
—-------------------------------------------------------
It takes a few instances like that for you to catch on. Every bump on your girl's head is rigorously inspected, and your little thunderstorm gets more than her fair share. You assure yourself she gets that wildness from him.
Then, one day, you hear Kieran call her “a little fiend”, and all hell breaks loose. It takes Luke and your unified strength to pry Sylus off Kieran, who flees the scene as soon as his boss's hands leave his throat.
You send Luke off with your girl, telling them to go watch TV or something as you confront your husband.
“Care to fill me in?” you ask icily, glaring down at him on his spot on the couch.
He glares right back up you as you stand in front of him. “He has no right to call her that,” he all but snarls.
“What, a fie- oh…Oh.” It clicks.
The worried looks, frantic searches for some non-existent bumps. The explosions at the simplest, most innocent comments.
You straddle his legs and take his face in your hands. “She's not you, Sylus,” you say gently, “Though she tries her damnedest.”
His head rolls back onto the couch as he covers his eyes with one of his strong arms. “I know,” he rasps, a fragility in his voice that you have only seldom heard, “but, what if-”
“Then we will figure it out,” you murmur as you gather him to you, “like we've done before.”
—‐----------------------------------------------------------
The years go by, and Sylus manages to somewhat lessen the intensity of his reactions to anything horn related. Or curse related. Or fiend, or dragon, or…He tries, in any case, you think, as you carry a tray laden with breakfast up to your bedroom, your daughter scampering up the stairs in front of you, excited for Father's Day and the gift she crafted at school.
You smile from the doorway as she jumps onto the bed where Sylus is pretending to be asleep, exaggerated snoring coming from the heap of covers and cushions. Squeals soon replace the snoring as he reaches out to grab your daughter and drags her under the covers.
“No, no, Daddy!” she cries, indignant, “I must give you your present first, and then you must eat breakfast!”
“Oh?” he rumbles, “Did you make it?”
“I made the present all by myself!” she exclaims as she throws the covers off of them both.
He exclaims in appreciation before his gaze falls on you. “And the breakfast?”
She pouts slightly. “Mommy helped.”
He chuckles at your sigh of exasperation. “And to what do I owe this offering?”
She giggles at his forgetfulness. “It is Father's Day, Daddy!” she says as she pushes the gift into his hands.
He opens the gift, a paper bird with a little picture of his little girl, the writing on one of the wings saying ‘Owl love you forever’. “Why is the owl black?” he asks, as he idly unties the string holding a rolled up drawing together.
“Miss Johnsons made us make an owl, but I wanted a crow,” she pouts, “it's Mephisto, daddy!”
“Of course it is, sweetie,” he says, the chuckle drying in his throat as he unrolls the drawing.
You place the tray on the foot of the bed and walk over to where the both of them are staring at the glitter embellished paper, one proudly, the other aghast. Your question dies on your tongue as you look at the drawing your daughter has made.
On it are three distinct figures, one on the ground and two in the air. Bright red wings sprout from both their backs, black scribbles from their heads, as the figure on the ground waves at them.
“What a lovely picture,” you say as you sit beside them and gently try to pinch Sylus out of his stupor, “will you tell me about it?”
She nods excitedly and starts pointing at the figures. “That's you, Mommy, and this is Daddy with his dragon wings, and that is me!”
“But you don't have wings, honey, and neither does Daddy.”
She exclaims in all the frustration a toddler can muster. “Not right now, but he can magic them back when I grow up and grow mine!”
Sylus trembles, trembles besides you, and you hug your daughter for him, thank her for her wonderful gifts, tell her that Daddy likes them so much that he can't speak right now, but that he will take her out for ice cream later to thank her, and send her off to put on her shoes and wait for him.
You watch as she streaks from the room, silver hair whipping behind her. Sylus softly chuckles beside you, drawing still held reverently in his quivering fingers.
“Leave it to out treasure,” he mutters as you turn to him, his red eyes glossy, “to figure it out for us.”
Imagine Dragon Sylus having a kid and constantly checking to see if they've started growing horns, because he's so scared they'll be cursed like him.
Until one day the kid asks when they'll get horns, and Sylus realizes that his kid doesn't see it as a curse, and wants to be just like their dad when they grow up
#lads sylus#dragon sylus#love and deepspace#lads#l&ds#l&ds sylus#sylus x reader#lnds sylus#love and deepspace sylus#sylus x mc
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stardust — r. itoshi
PAIRING: rin itoshi x fem!reader
CONTENT: actor au, fake dating, hurt/comfort, swearing, depressive spiral, might be ooc!!
WORD COUNT: 2.8k
NOTE: @choccorin i love u, enjoy!
it starts off pretty harmless, this agreement. you've known rin for a while now, the longest out of anyone he's in contact with in the industry these days, so it's obvious that he'll come to you when he needs help. in this case, the problem here is his fans.
rin itoshi shoots up to stardom out of the blue, all golden champagne and party streamers and hordes of screaming fangirls scattered (generously) around the globe. he's not a bad actor, not at all, but no one really expected him to be as popular as he is now.
not that he goes viral for his acting — not at first, at least. it's actually a low quality video posted onto twitter by a fan that does the trick; she doesn't expect her innocent six-second recording to break containment like this. but rin, with his pretty face and long lashes and perfectly fitted dark clothing, bathed in some gala's brilliant lighting, somehow manages to capture the hearts of a few million people that night. and when they find out that not only is he gorgeous, but he's also good at what he does? jackpot. the fame he's suddenly achieved is nothing if not terrifyingly overwhelming.
however, despite the massive growth of followers that he experiences overnight, you know that you'll always love him more. and that is precisely why you say yes to what he asks of you.
you remember that day embarrassingly well, down to the fine details, like how your phone's battery was at 37%, and how rin'd had a queer expression on his face, not really his usual deadpan look, but not really anything else either.
"date me," rin itoshi tells you.
"excuse me?" this isn't happening, right? you've been horrendously in love with him for a few years now; surely this isn't how things are going to go! but even then, you're not sure if fate is on your side or not, because he shakes his head and continues, and dashes all your hopes in an instant.
"i'm not in love with you or anything," he clarifies. "i just need a fake girlfriend so some of these crazy people leave me alone."
"ah," you manage to say. you should refuse, tell him to find someone else. you've read enough romance novels to know exactly how this plays out, and just how painful it'll be for you. not to mention the fact that he's literally just told you that he doesn't have any feelings for you, to your face. everything tells you to not do it, but when have you ever been able to say no to him? "sure."
his lips curve into the briefest of smiles as he hears your answer. "thank you. we'll discuss this later, okay?"
"sure," you repeat, ignoring the way your stomach does an unceremonious flip at his smile. he nods and gets up, and you watch him leave, leave you behind, just as he always has.
and so it begins.
the routine the two of you follow is easy to slip into; acting like you're in love with him isn't difficult either, especially when you are in love with him.
to his credit, rin treats you perfectly on his part. despite keeping you at arm's length off-camera, he treats you like a princess otherwise, apologising a few hundred times for the media outrage caused by the reveal of your "relationship". and while it does hurt to be so close, yet so far from the one thing you crave, the way you're getting to see a softer — although probably fake — side of rin, and how he's treating you almost makes up for it.
and inside, everything stays (almost) the same, perfectly platonic and unchanged.
and the fangirls (somewhat) die down out of respect for his new relationship, so that's good, too. keep winning, rin itoshi.
you're scrolling social media one day when you stumble upon a video that's slowly but surely gaining more and more traction. it's about you and rin — specifically, your relationship. the person speaking breaks down every (visible) aspect of it, and comes to the conclusion that the two of you must be gaking things. the thought of this assumption (although true) becoming more widespread terrifies you; the last thing you want happening is rin's career being damaged like this. he's barely in his twenties and there's still so much left for him to do. you can't let him lose just yet. so, with shaking fingers, you send the video to him. rin leaves you on seen, but the next time you're seen in public together he kisses you, and your relationship is viral again, and you question your friendship for the very first time.
another day, another rich-people party. it's the usual, really, for you and rin — even though neither of you are particularly fond of this setting — as the two of you linger in a somewhat secluded corner of the room. rin's hand rests lightly on your waist just in case anyone turns their attention to you, but his mind seems to be elsewhere as he stares into the crowd. a sudden flash of light catches your eye, and you whisper-yell at him urgently. "rin."
he doesn't react, eyes still blank and unfocused.
"rin!"
he blinks, realising that you're talking to him.
"yeah?" he leans down to hear you better, face dangerously close to yours.
"cameras," you hiss.
his brows raise ever so slightly in understanding. "okay. can i kiss you?"
"what?"
"for the cameras, obviously," he deadpans. "i saw the video; surely you sent it to me for a reason and not just for me to watch, right?"
"right."
rin's hand leaves your waist so he can cradle your face with both hands and angle your face up. there's a guarded look in his eyes, something you can tell he's hiding. you don't know what, though, and it's not like you get any time to even think when he finally, finally leans down to kiss you. every thought in your brain evaporates into stardust as he presses his lips to yours. in front of you, a camera shutter snaps, but you can't really find it in yourself to care when all you can think of, all you can feel is the press of his lips on yours.
it takes exactly twelve sleepless nights after this (you've kept count) and one (1) conversation with your best friend to realise that this whole fake dating thing is taking a — negative, obviously — toll on your mental health, even more so as the lines between platonic and romantic begin to blur.
you'd thought the relationship was just for show. so why does rin bring you flowers on a bad day, even when there's no media around to see? he treats you like his girlfriend at home too, now, and it confuses you. rin itoshi is not your boyfriend, so why are you always in his clothes? and what's with all the physical contact? not that you mind, of course.
he's just gotten too absorbed into this relationship, you tell yourself. he doesn't know what he's doing to you. but you don't speak up about it, either. you let it continue.
but regardless of whose fault this is, the uurt that grows within you stays raw and heavy. he just has to be the one thing you cannot have, and it really is impossible to not fall for his (unintentional) boyish charm and the quiet concern he displays — for you and you only.
it's a particularly rough day, even worse than usual — which is concerning, considering that almost every day in the past two weeks has been the exact same level of bad, when everything comes crashing down. it's been terrible from the morning and you haven't even gotten out of bed yet, even though it's almost three in the afternoon. you're drifting in and out of unconsciousness; everything around you and your thoughts and feelings are all coated in an uncomfortable haze.
a tentative knock on your door rouses you awake and you blink. why's there someone in your apartment? is this a break-in? who could it possibly— oh. rin.
your mind flashes back to a certain moment a few months ago, so fast it gives you whiplash. you're half-collapsed onto a bar stool by your kitchen counter, rin kneeling in front of you as he examines your bruised ankle.
"you should really be more careful," he murmurs, and your heart aches at the tenderness in his tone as he gently presses the icepack against the bruise.
cold seeps through your ankle as he holds it there, and eventually you wince; he must've gotten distracted and forgotten to pull away.
"i'm sorry, i'm sorry," he whispers, uncharacteristically nervous and breathless. the apology forces itself out of his mouth, words tumbling over each other in their haste. "did i hurt you?"
you shake your head, and although he sighs disbelievingly, he does not argue.
"how do i return your key?" he asks you as he's about to leave. you're a bundle of blankets on your sofa, unable to move, so he's locking your door for you. your best friend's coming to take care of you soon — she also has a key to the apartment, so you'll be fine. besides, it's an extra one, anyways.
so you take a deep breath and hope you won't regret it when you wave him away with a laugh and tell him to keep it. he nods, although expressionless, and says a simple, flat bye before he leaves. you wonder if you're delusional or if the tips of his ears really did turn red when you told him to take the key with him.
your best friend is halfway across the world right now; it's obvious that it's rin who's standing outside your bedroom door.
another knock. rin clears his throat, like he's about to speak; you narrowly beat him to it. "don't come in, i-i'm okay!"
"oh."
you cough a little as you speak, wincing at the dryness of your throat and how rough your voice sounds.
"you don't sound okay," he adds a moment later, painfully stiff. "you weren't answering your calls or anything so i got— i mean, i came to check up on you."
"i see," you respond quickly. why is it so awkward today?
rin clears his throat again. "are you sure you're okay?"
your throat tightens; you do not respond — you cannot respond. rin reads your silence perfectly, almost too well. he does not speak again, but you hear a single step (forward?) outside your door. and the doorknob twists, and the door creaks open.
you are buried in an unkempt mess of bedsheets and blankets. when rin finally sees you, his eyes widen.
you burst into tears.
rin has never been good at comforting people. today, he doesn't even know what's wrong. unsure of what to do, he just stares at you owlishly for a moment before taking a hesitant step in your direction. when you don't stop him, he moves closer. and when you nestle into his side as he wraps his arm around you, he deduces that he must be doing something right.
the warmth of his presence is unfairly comforting; you cannot help but lean into him, breathing slowly becoming calmer as his thumb rubs circles into your shoulder.
eventually you stop crying, though not without the embarrassment of having a whole entire mental breakdown in front of your beloved rin itoshi, about said beloved rin itoshi.
rin lets the silence stew for a second or two; you feel him swallow from where your head is now tucked in the crook of his neck.
"what was that all about?" he pulls back slightly, loosening his hold on you as you stiffen at his question.
oh. well, now or never, right?
"rin," you begin. "i don't think i can do this fake dating thing anymore."
"oh. why not?"
he's quiet, but there's no particular inflection or change in his tone.
you shrug. "it's not working for me anymore, i guess. too busy these days."
he opens his mouth to speak, then exhales slowly instead. "okay."
"cool."
"okay," he repeats. "then we'll end the agreement tonight."
"why tonight?" confusion colours your tone as you finally look up at him. when his teal eyes meet yours again, his lips twitch into a small smile.
rin works careful and methodical, starting the cleanup from one end of your room. technically he's still your (fake) partner, and you've done so much in the public eye — the amount of pictures of you and rin scattered across the internet borders on obscene — so surely you can let him do one little thing in private, right?
"let me do this for you, yeah? you've done so much for me these past few months, let me pay you back."
it's mortifying, but you let him fix up your room anyways. and when he leads you to your bathroom, you follow along obediently, watching as he fixes the water temperature and leaves you to clean yourself up while he prepares something for you to eat.
the hot water washes away a surprisingly large amount of the discomfort you've been feeling as of late, and it's like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders by the time you see rin again.
long-limbed 6'1" rin itoshi, dressed fully in shades of black and blue, rin looks incredibly awkward and out of place in your kitchen. it's a quaint little place, decked out in pink and brown hues, but a total contrast to him. it makes you let out a little huff of laughter, and you swear rin smiles when he hears it.
there's a plate of your favourite food placed in front of you; rin sits downon the chair opposite you.
"eat. there's something i want to talk to you about."
anxiety pools in your stomach — there's no way he knows, right? you should've never done this; you're no better than all those fangirls he'd been trying to get away from in the first place. and if he knows this, he— wait, is this his way of saying goodbye? it makes sense now — anyone would feel the same after a betrayal of trust like this.
he lets you finish eating before—
"i lied. to you. i'm sorry."
what?
he refuses to meet your eyes, gaze fixed on the table of front of him. the tips of his ears are very, very red.
"about what?" you manage to ask. this is not how you'd expected this to go.
"i, um." he's half-hiding his face with a hand; what you can see nonetheless is flushed, like he's running a fever. except he's not ill, just shy. really, what's happening? "i didn't need— fuck, i shouldn't have listened to shidou, i knew it was stupid!"
"rin?"
"ugh. i just— iaskedshidouforadviceandhesaidthebestwaytoknowifyoulikemebackisthisandi'msorryididn'tmeanforyoutogethurt—"
"wait, like you back? as in you like me?"
"oh." well, now that he's said that out loud now, what's next? he can't exactly take it back, can he? but to his surprise, you look pleased. like you wanted this. "um. yes."
"oh! rin, don't apologise!" you exclaim, much to his chagrin. (are you patronising him right now?) "i also have some explaining to do."
he cocks his head in confusion; you can see the question marks hovering above his head.
"you didn't exactly hurt me by fake dating me or whatever; i was sad 'cause you were sending me a bunch of mixed signals, y'know."
"huh? i was?"
"yeah? you said you weren't into me, but then you did all sorts of stuff that implied that you did like me."
"that's cause i do like you though."
you choke.
he seems to have regained composure again as he raises a brow at you. "you don't like me, though?"
"i do!" you squeak. "i've liked you this whole time— wait, you said it was shidou who told you to do this?"
"mhm, why?"
"he knows i like you, though!"
rin grits his teeth, pushing his chair back as he gets up. "no way, that fucking bastard… i'm going to go kill him right now."
"wait, rin."
he pauses. "what?"
"can you kiss me again, but for real this time?"
his eyes widen, just a little. "oh. okay. yeah."
when rin gets to your side of the table, he just stands there, staring down at you with unbridled adoration in his eyes, all the feelings that he no longer needs to hide. you recognise it now — it's that same look from the night he'd first kissed you. all of this almost overwhelms you, and in the end the only thing you can really muster up is a simple "hi."
rin smiles, fingers gently tilting your chin up. "hey."
and when he bends down to kiss you, it's even better than the last time. because this time it's real.
800 follower event.
© reocidal 2025.
#mine🫀#rin itoshi#rin itoshi x reader#rin itoshi x y/n#rin itoshi x you#itoshi rin x you#itoshi rin x reader#itoshi rin#itoshi rin x y/n#blue lock#bllk#blue lock x reader#blue lock x you#bllk x y/n#bllk x female reader#blue lock imagine#blue lock rin#bllk x reader#bllk x you#blue lock x y/n#blue lock x female reader#800 event!
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New year, same bullshit. I’m sorry I’ve been so MIA, friends, but I hope you accept this drabble as an explanation of sorts. Love you all ❤️
“Should I be worried?”
Grantaire’s eyes flicker up to Enjolras’s, his cereal spoon halfway to his mouth. “Do you mean, like, in general?” he asks. “Because I mean, like, it’s 2025. And we’re all fucked. So.”
He sticks his spoon in his mouth and shrugs. Enjolras doesn’t smile. “That’s on me for not being more specific, I guess,” he says, scrubbing a hand across his mouth before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You’re not painting.”
Grantaire swallows. “Well, no,” he allows, “mainly because I’m eating breakfast at the moment.”
“Be serious.”
Grantaire’s lips twitch. “It’s somewhat less funny when you know it’s coming.”
Enjolras arches an eyebrow. “And yet that’s never stopped you before.”
“Fair.” Grantaire twirls his spoon between his fingers before pronouncing, like the well-worn, inside joke it had become, “I am wild.”
Almost certainly despite himself, Enjolras smiles, just slightly. “Yeah, you are,” he agrees. “But you’re also not painting.”
Grantaire’s answering smile fades. “Could be,” he says, a little sullenly. “It’s not like you’re around enough to know.”
It’s a low blow and he knows it, but Enjolras doesn’t flinch. “Maybe not but we live in a late capitalist surveillance state so I have my ways of finding out.”
“Well, well, well, typical white man, complaining about the system except for when it directly benefits you.”
“Yep,” Enjolras says. “Are you going to keep deflecting? Because I can do this all day.”
For a moment, Grantaire’s tempted to take him up on it, to see just how long he’ll actually allow this to drag on. It’d almost certainly be good fun, and it isn’t like Grantaire’s got anything better to do.
But he can also see that Enjolras is genuinely worried, can see it in the tightness of his shoulders and the lines at the corners of his eyes that he tries to claim aren’t crow’s feet because he’s not old enough to have crow’s feet. And considering Grantaire’s previous point about all of the other things that are almost certainly more worth Enjolras’s worry, he supposes he owes him at least a semblance of the truth.
“Yes, I haven’t been painting,” he says, dipping his spoon in his bowl of cereal and stirring it, mostly to give himself something to do with his hands. “No, you shouldn’t be worried.”
Enjolras nods like he didn’t really expect a different answer. “Are you depressed again?”
Enjolras’s bluntness, characteristic though it may be, still startles a laugh from Grantaire. He sighs and looks down at his cereal bowl. “There’s not really a way to say this that won’t worry you.”
When he sneaks a glance at him, Enjolras meets his eyes evenly. “Try me.”
Grantaire jerks a shrug. “I’ve never really not been depressed,” he admits, which isn’t really a dirty secret so he’s not entirely sure why he’s saying it like it is.
Maybe because he really doesn’t want Enjolras to worry. They don’t talk about this, really, other than for Enjolras to reiterate more times than Grantaire can count that he’s always there to listen if ever Grantaire wants or needs to talk.
He knows that Grantaire’s in therapy, and takes meds, and had some very low lows previously, but Grantaire’s never felt the need to fill him in on the specifics.
It was depressing enough living it the first time.
He made that joke, such as it was, to his therapist, who didn’t laugh. “Do you frequently feel like you’re a burden to your loved ones?” she asked in response.
Of course Grantaire does, but again, he won’t tell Enjolras that.
Enjolras taps his fingers on the table, the way he does when he’s deciding on the best plan of attack or how to most effectively dismantle whatever asinine argument Grantaire’s brought up. “I thought you were doing better,” he says hesitantly after a moment.
He doesn’t pitch it as a question but Grantaire still nods. “I was.”
“What happened?” Enjolras asks, before pausing and asking, “Did something happen?”
Grantaire sighs and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “It doesn’t always work that way,” he says. “It’s not always triggered by something happening.”
Enjolras’s brow furrows. “Right,” he says shortly, something like disappointment flitting across his expression.
It took Grantaire a very long time when they got together to realize that this kind of disappointment isn’t aimed at him, but at a problem Enjolras can’t fix, an enemy he can’t fight.
At least, not directly.
He clears his throat. “But in this case, I think probably everything over the past few months played at least a contributory role, shall we say.”
True though it is, he mostly says it for Enjolras’s sake. Enjolras just nods slowly. “Are you not painting because your depression is bad again?”
Grantaire exhales sharply. “I’ve painted a lot while depressed.”
Enjolras’s expression doesn’t shift. “Another excellent deflection.”
Grantaire barks a laugh and scrubs both hands across his face. “You know me too fucking well.”
“Or just well enough.”
Grantaire lowers his hands and sighs again. He doesn’t quite meet Enjolras’s eyes as he says, “Every time I go try to paint…it’s like I can’t see it anymore, you know?” Enjolras almost certainly doesn’t know, but he’s struggling to put it into words in a way he can understand. “Like I can’t picture it in my mind, how I want it to look, or how to get there. It’s– it’s like trying to paint in fog.”
It’s not an exact metaphor, but it’ll do.
Enjolras nods slowly. “But I don’t need to be worried.”
“No,” Grantaire says, before wrinkling his nose. “Yes? I never know what the correct response is.” Enjolras just gives him a look, and Grantaire tells him, “No, you don’t need to be worried.” He pauses, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before telling Enjolras with an almost tired conviction, “It’ll come back. It always has.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Enjolras asks.
Grantaire cracks a smile. “Then you can worry.”
Enjolras takes a deep breath. “Ok,” he says simply.
Grantaire eyes him resignedly. “You’re going to worry anyway, aren’t you?”
A smile twitches at the corners of Enjolras’s mouth. “Newsflash, asshole, I’ve been worried this whole time,” he says dryly, and Grantaire’s smile widens at the quote.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and Enjolras’s smile disappears.
“What? Why?”
Grantaire shakes his head, mostly because he knows Enjolras won’t like his explanation. “Because you shouldn’t have to—”
Sure enough, Enjolras cuts him off with a scowl, though his voice is gentle as he tells him, “That ship I’m pretty sure sailed when I fell in love with you. Or, frankly, probably a good deal sooner than that.”
There are so many things that Grantaire wants to say that, but he can’t bring himself to. Instead, he stretches his hand across the table and tells Enjolras, sincerely, “I love you.”
Enjolras takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I know,” he says softly. “I love you, too.” He squeezes Grantaire’s hand before adding, “I hope it comes back soon.”
“Yeah,” Grantaire agrees. “So do I.”
#exr#enjolras#grantaire#enjolras x grantaire#enjoltaire#fanfiction#modern au#Les Miserables#established relationship#depression cw#mental illness#drabble#ficlet
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HOPELESSLY DEVOTED TO YOU — remus lupin.
SUMMARY. — remus can’t help himself, he has to take it off of you.
PAIRING. — remus lupin x halfblood!fem!reader
WARNINGS. — smut; unprotected sex (wrap it up pls!); not much plot but still some;
A/N. — i need some requests! send me some requests!🙏🏻
it’s the first party Lily and James are hosting at their new house, and it oh so happens to be a halloween one. after hours of fighting, your friend group settled on making it costume themed, which has made it tough for you to figure something out.
good for you, your fiancé is a very creative man. not so keen on playing dress-up, but creative nonetheless. you spent a few hours deciding what to wear, and in the end you settle on going as Sandy and Danny from Grease, a musical that over the last few months became your and Remus’ favorite movie.
you can hear Remus grumbling out in the living room, and you giggle to yourself as you finish putting on the bold red lipstick. your eyes focus on your reflection in the mirror, up and down your body in that tight costume, your maroon heels clicking against the floor when you step away from the counter. you ruffle up the curls you made with a muggle curling iron Lily had borrowed you for the occasion, and you leave the bathroom in a jumpy stroll.
„m’ready, Remy!” you hum softly, making your way over to where you’re sure he’s waiting for you, having the biggest smile on your face when you see him.
even though you knew who you were going as, you two decided to keep the exact look of your costumes a secret up until this moment. you think he looks amazing, he always does to you. he’s a bit down spiritually, considering the full moon is in about a week, but he definitely put his best into this. for you.
„you look handsome!” you put your hands on his chest, eyes grazing over his tall figure, and you hear him sigh. his dark caramel hair is brushed back with a lot of gel and styled to mimic Danny’s, the scars on his face faint and whitened from the time that’s passed since he got them. he’s wearing the costume well, simple black t-shirt that clings to his lanky body, black jeans that are taut on him, and of course, a leather jacket.
„thanks, dovey. you look fabulous.” he murmurs, resting his hands on the swell of your hips, thumbs brushing over your hipdips affectionately. he was leaning against the arm of the sofa, and now he stands up, raising his eyebrows.
you nod, and his arm wraps around your middle, hand on your lower back, and he smoothly apparates you both outside the Potter’s house in Godrick’s Hollow. your fingers intertwine as you make your way inside, the party already in full swing. Lily greets you, dressed as Sally Hardesty, and you compliment her outfit while hugging her. she moves on quickly though, going to greet new guests.
as you walk through the house with Remus practically attached at your hip, you see James and Sirius already dancing on the coffee table in the living room. Black dressed as David Bowie, and James… well, you assume is Leatherface (deducting from Lily’s costume), but honestly it’s hard to tell.
you split with Remus when Mary, Dorcas and Marlene drag you away from him, making you take some shots with them and dance.
and oh, you dance a lot. you’ve always loved dancing, your muggle mom being a dance teacher at a prestige academy. when you were little, before you went to Hogwarts, you used to always follow your mom to her private lessons. even now, despite not living in the muggle part of London, you love to wander to those parts of town, looking in windows at dancing studios.
somehow you end up upstairs (smoking some pot with Peter probably hasn’t been the best idea), walking through the hallway with your head turning left and right, watching the walls as if they are the most interesting thing you’ve seen tonight. suddenly you feel a harsh tug, someone pulling you into a bathroom, and you’re ready to scream before Remus’ scent envelopes your senses.
„Merlin, you scared me!” you hit his shoulder, frowning confused as you feel his hands glide all over your body, touching and kneading your flesh.
„sorry. need you.” his mumble against the column of your throat is barely audible, and you pull him away for a moment by tugging at the ends of his hair.
you know he gets like that, soon before the full moon. needy. possessive. heated. sometimes it’s almost like the wolf in him takes over, trying to keep you as close to him as possible, trying to mark you up. you can tell he’s drunk too, his pupils dilated, his breathing rapid.
you only smile, waving your to cast muffliato over the room, so that you won’t be overheard. you also cast colloportus to keep the door locked for anyone who could accidentally walk in on you two.
before you can turn your head back to him, he’s already tugging your shirt off, unclasping your bra, letting both things fall to the cold floor. he stares at your tits, just for a while, quickly leaning in and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. while his mouth works on your left boob, his hand squeezes and plays with the right one, and you throw your head back in quiet pleasure. he’s got you pinned against the door, the handle digging into your side, but you don’t mind it.
aware of the fact you can’t stay in here for much time, you gently push him off you, dropping to your knees. you grit your teeth when they hit the tiles, your hands reaching out to unbuckle his belt, fighting with it for a few seconds before Remus helps you. he throws the belt away, unzipping his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers. his cock springs out, painfully hard, slapping over his lower torso.
your mouth always waters at the sight of it, the throbbing ache between your thighs always doubling. it’s not very impressive in girth, but it’s long. like nine inches long. uncut, of course. your hand wraps around his base, giving it a gentle stroke, and Remus lets you just have your fun with it for a bit. not for too long though, because he soon gets impatient, and pats your hands away.
his own hand grabs his dick, and he steps closer, slapping his shaft against your cheek.
„open up, dovey.” he rasps out, and once you open your mouth, he puts the tip of his cock on your stuck out tongue, making a tsch sound. with a snap of his hips, he wastes no time pushing his junk further down your throat, making you gag and spit up. he’s mean tonight, set on what he wants, so he doesn’t pull out. he starts to thrust in and out, shallow at first, then grabs a handful of your hair to tug your head in closer. “you like that, huh? i sure as hell do. looking so fucking perfect for me on your knees like that.”
the way he talks, the way his thrusts grow faster and sharper, the way he pulls your hair to control your head movement. it all leads to you clutching your hands at his thighs, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, and your legs squeezing closed. you reach out, taking hold of his balls and kneading them between your fingers, happy as you hear the grunts escaping his mouth. finally he lets go of you, allowing you to breathe (or more like heave) for not even a minute before he grabs your arm and yanks you up. you grasp the edge of the bathtub, leaning down slightly, your ass on his crotch level.
you tilt your head back, wanting to watch him, and he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your tight leather pants, harshly pulling them down to your ankles. he rips your thongs off, and when you yelp in a form of protest, he slaps your asscheek hard.
“wanted to take those damn pants off the moment you left our bathroom.” Remus whispers, leaning over to nip at your earlobe, his slender digits grazing over your soaked cunt. “fuck, dove, you’re so wet. guess you wanted that as much as i did.”
“Remy, shit…” you whimper as he pushes two fingers in right away, and honestly they go in so smoothly, you’re surprised. he seems surprised too, letting out a low chuckle and pressing a kiss behind your ear, then straightens up.
he stretches your hole for a few minutes, adding a third finger, pumping in and out, curling his fingers inside you to hit the spot he knows makes you see stars. he even lets you come undone on his fingers, your orgasm crushing over you rather suddenly, and you can feel your pulse quicken rapidly.
he doesn’t let you ride out your orgasm though, removing his fingers to replace them with his cock. he’s not gentle about it either, immediately taking up a rough pace, hips slamming into yours in reckless abandon.
you arch your back, moans and whines you let out getting more obscure with each thrust, and you reach back, trying to wrap your arms around his neck while not facing him. he helps you, hands moving from your hips to your waist and pulling you closer, resting his chin on your shoulder as he fucks into you.
“that’s it. so good to me, dovey. taking my cock like a pro.” he coos in your ear affectionately, fingers tracing mindless patterns over your stomach and his pace slows down. “gonna take my load too? or should i cum all over this gorgeous ass of yours?
you know he’s close, he practically always slows down when he’s close to cumming, and you can’t do much more than just nodding your head, feeling like mush in his embrace.
he clicks his tongue, slapping your tit lightly, and whispers. “use your words. can’t take a fucking nod as an answer.”
“inside, Remy. y’can cum inside.” you breathe out, the shakiness in your voice a clear indicator that you’re chasing your next release too. his hands rest on your chest at last, and he’s panting in your ear, while you let out a moan so high-pitched you would’ve cringed at it, if it wasn’t for the fact you’re getting fucked senseless right now.
his hips snap against yours a couple more times before he buries himself inside you completely, moaning and grunting as he stills, cumming deep into your cunt that’s squeezing him and clenching around him so deliciously. you climax at the same time, your legs giving up on you so you lean on Remus mostly, heaving and rasping for air.
it takes you both a while to come back to your senses, but when you do, Remus is peppering kisses over the side of your neck and shoulder, mumbling quiet praises.
“d’ya wanna go home, dovey?” he asks you as your pulse and breathing go back to normal, and you turn in his arms, letting his dick slide out of you.
“yeah. let’s go home.”
#divs by roseraris#marauders#blurb#james potter#sirius black#the marauders#remus lupin#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin smut#smut#dead gay wizards
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Hi! First off I just want to say I love your fics and have been reading for a few months and would like to request a fic.
Can you do a Rockstar!Eddie smut fic with Reader. So basically he's on tour for a few months and has been in (some other state or country), for a month. His last show is in Hawkins and she's in the crowd supporting him or whatever and when they get home he shows how much he's missed her 😏😏
First off, hi, and thank you so much! Second, I absolutely love rockstar!eddie!
cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) fingering, use of nicknames (princess, sweetheart, baby, daddy)
Eddie is due home any minute. You know that the time he gave you when he's supposed to touch down might not be one hundred percent accurate, but you're still hoping that it is. You haven't seen him in months even though you were supposed to go see him in Chicago but it never ended up working out.
He's called every night before bed but it hasn't been the same. You want him to hold you in his arms and kiss you until you're both breathless before he takes you to your bedroom where you both make up for lost time.
Eddie's feels the same. He hasn't stopped thinking about you since he left the loneliness because you weren't there really got to him. He missed you more than he ever thought possible, even more so when he watched his bandmates take girls back to their hotel rooms while he went back to his and called you because of how badly he needed to talk to you.
They even did a few interviews in between shows to promote their new album and he always jumped at the chance to talk about you whenever you were brought up. You're his favorite thing to talk about so of course he's going to yap about how amazing he thinks you are and how much he misses you. He's made loving you his entire personality and that's never going to stop.
You hear a key turn on the door and you race over to it, ripping it open before Eddie can and throwing yourself into his arms where he's quick to catch you. He moves inside the house and spins you around before pressing his lips to yours. It's tender and sweet despite your need for each other.
He carries you over to the couch where he lays you down, tossing his back down and grabbing a box of condoms from his duffel bag and taking off his clothes in record speed. He watches you do the same before he straddles your waist, staring down at you with a mixture of love and lust in his honey eyes.
"So fucking pretty," he sighs as he leans down and covers his lips with yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he does so. "Did you get prettier while I was gone?" He asks as his lips move down to your neck, peppering the spot with kisses before giving it a teasing nibble.
"No," you shake your head. "But I think you."
"Shit, sweetheart, are you coming onto me?" He asks with a wink and you respond by pushing him down so he's flat against the mattress.
"That is why I got naked for you, is it not?"
"God, I love when you take charge, but right now, this is about you," he tells you as he sits up and you follow. "Now lie back, honey, and let me work." You do as he says and he hovers over you, each of his hands taking hold of one of your knees as he spreads your legs wide to get a look at what he's working with.
"Wow, you really missed me," he teases as he gets look at your soaking wet pussy. "But don't worry, daddy's here now to take care of you."
"Please," you whine and he lowers himself down onto you as he pushes his fingers inside you, wincing as he does so.
"So fucking tight. Need me to stretch you out, sweetheart?" You need him so badly that you're about to start crying.
"God, yes," you nod and Eddie begins to pump his fingers slowly to warm you up, but you want more. You need more.
"Faster," you demand. "Harder." Your eyes go dark on the last word and Eddie quick to obey. He's usually the one to take the reigns but that doesn't mean that he doesn't listen when his girl vocalizes what she wants. He's always eager to please.
"Whatever you say, princess," he says as he picks up the pace and you're already clenching around his fingers, holding onto him for dear life as his fingers fuck you fast and hard, the prettiest sounds falling from your lips as he does so.
His fingers curve, hitting just the right spot and you're already orgasming which Eddie thinks has to be a record of some sort, but he supposes that it makes sense since he hasn't done anything like this to you in months.
His fingers are still going, though as he watches you come undone underneath him. And he thinks this is the prettiest he's ever seen you.
"Okay," you breath. "Need your cock now." You already look absolutely spent, but who is Eddie to deny you of what you want? He trusts you enough to know how much you can take. And if it was really a problem, he'd say something.
"You still want it fast and hard, sweetheart?" He asks as he removes his fingers, putting them into his mouth to get rid of the slick before quickly rolling on the condom.
"Please," you whine again and without hesitation, he pounds into you, his fingers digging into your skin as you scratch down his back.
He's not hesitating to insert all of himself, knowing that you can take it. You're clenching around him as tears prick your eyes, so much pain coursing through you as the last inch slides in, but you think you like it.
"Look at you," he says through labored breaths. "Taking me so well. Shit, you're so hot, baby." He continues to pound into you as more moans pour from your mouth and Eddie knew you liked rough sex, but not like this. He's afraid that he's going to hurt you, but considering the sounds you're making, he doesn't think that's true.
You're already starting to fade, your words slurring as you reach your next orgasm, your somehow loudest moans yet spilling out. As you're coming down, you're still begging for more, but Eddie thinks it's time to call it quits.
"More," you whine as he pulls out.
"Maybe in the morning," he replies before disposing of the condom then holds his hands out for you to take. "Now c'mon, baby, time for bed." You hesitantly take his hands and he carries you to your room, leaving your discarded for the morning as he's getting tired himself.
The two of you don't even bother putting on pajamas as you climb into bed, your bodies pressed together, bare skin to bare skin as you both murmur "I love you's" before drifting off into a much needed sleep as you're both in your favorite place again: each other's arms.
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#rockstar!eddie#rockstar!eddie x fem!reader#rockstar!eddie x reader#rockstar!eddie smut
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the hills. — kim minjeong x reader.
"when i'm fucked up, that's the real me."
sypnosis ⸝⸝⸝ park y/n has always hated minjeong, and the feeling has always mutual. growing up as rivals, it only made sense for their rivalry to carry on with them to college. but when minjeong became student council president she devloped a knack for using that power over y/n, causing for the line in between love and hate to blur.
pairing ⸝⸝⸝ enemies to lovers, stuco president!minjeong x campus player!reader
warnings ⸝⸝⸝ profanity, suggestive, alcohol & cannabis consumption, cheating, y/n is lowk big mad, minjeong is down bad
note ⸝⸝⸝ HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY TO ME AND MINJEONGGG 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 and happy new year too!!! idk how i feel about this fic, it’s kinda out of my comfort zone (also its so late rn, i took WAYYY too long to post this)
word count: 4.4k
if there was one thing that every college student looked forward to during midterms, it was the month long break. whether they spend it sleeping, partying, or with their loved ones, it was always the fuel of their excitement.
this had even been the case for park y/n, an extremely popular student yonsei university. the popularity wasn’t due to her looks & lovable bold personality, but she was also park sunghoon’s little sister. sunghoon was notorius for his ability to ice skate, entracing everyone who watched him dance across the ice almost insantly.
y/n went viral after being spotted giving her brother a pep talk before a big performance, resulting in praise for her demeanor and refreshing visuals.
this event lead to her current boyfriend at the time, kim sunwoo, who was one of the most popular campus crushes. he was known for throwing the craziest parties, especially during the breaks.
even though y/n is well-known for breaking hearts and then moving onto the next person she deems worthy, sunwoo didn’t seem to mind this at all. he was happily enjoying his 15 minutes of fame. and in his mind, they were the hottest couple the university had laid their eyes upon.
this hadn’t been the case for student council president kim minjeong, who was currently eyeing the said girl with disdain. the annoyance was practically radiating off of her at this point.
minjeong wasn’t the typical president, though. while she exuded the punk and rock aesthetic perfectly, she was extremely nice to everyone. some would even describe her as shy, but everyone could tell that she genuinely cared for the students. with the way she coordinated all the activities, advocated for the students’ needs and concerns, and represented the entire studdent body. her leadership and communication skills were out of this world.
that was with everyone except for park y/n.
they had been enemies — or more so rivals, for years now. it started in elementary school, where they used to be table partners.
their table was pretty far in the back, so the teacher would always reach them last.
on the very first day when the teacher handed out colored construction paper, minjeong took the last blue colored one. the one that y/n had been waiting so patiently for.
that wasn’t the worst part about it all. she even left a friendly comment for her so-called table partner.
“i’m smarter, so i get it instead of you!” she chirped.
y/n smacked her gum angrily, crossing her arms as the teacher scolded minjeong.
“you’re a big fat liar!” y/n spat back, resulting in a loss of two class dojo points.
“park y/n! give me your gum, now.” the teacher scolded, and y/n immediately obeyed.
two more class dojo points that she needed for her favorite candy — the big blow pops with gum inside.
she could still remember the event as clear as water to this day.
and everytime she does, she reminds herself that she is indeed better than minjeong, and she wouldn’t let that anger consume her. it wouldn’t have been possible to beat minjeong in every spelling bee if the girl was better than her.
minjeong and y/n used to compete in the spelling bee every year during middle school, and they would always be the final two left standing.
but minjeong could never beat y/n. and the smile that y/n would give everyone once she got the award was worth losing.
and the time in high school where —
“are you even listening?” minjeong quirked a brow, patience running thin. her teeth grazed against the piercings that looped around her bottom lip. the piercings that made minjeong look ten times hotter.
y/n hated those.
“yeah, whatever. i, park y/n, swear to improve my behavior over the break. can i go now?” the blonde-haired girl shook her head in disappointment.
“today isn’t the day to be testing my patience.” even if there was any real threat behind the warning, y/n didn’t care. she rolled her eyes before standing up from the chair, smacking her gum to take it a step further as usual. she always knew exactly how to push minjeong’s buttons.
“just get out.” minjeong ordered before holding out the palm of her hand, tilting her head as her eyes zeroed in on her rival’s lips.
a reluctant y/n spat out her gum with crossed arms, huffing quietly. this wasn’t uncommon for the two, and y/n was never truly bugged by the action. she only feigned annoyance so that minjeong had a reason to do it more often.
and she definitely did.
“ugh! i can’t stand minjeong!” y/n complained in the canteen, fixing her lip combo as sunwoo held up the phone camera for her.
sunwoo was currently seated with y/n and her friends, listening to his girlfriend rant on and on about their student council president. this wasn’t a new topic for him.
yuqi was absent this time — she had probably been lip locking in a hallway with her boyfriend, waiting to get caught.
“is there something i should know about her?” aeri raised an eyebrow. “she’s my r—“
“mm-mm. just let her finish, aeri.” sunwoo cut her off, waving his hand side to side in the air. aeri could only shrug in response.
“i swear she does it on purpose too… she never reports anyone as much as she reports you.” ningning chimed in, sipping from the lilac stanley cup that sat on the table.
“exactly! urgh, like she’s so infuriating!” her boyfriend, who was more of a decoration, watched y/n work her magic, amazed by how pretty she was. “i swear we’ve memorized each other’s schedule.” aeri’s face contorted into one of confusion.
“maybe she wants to be your friend.” sunwoo shrugged, resulting in y/n giving him her signature eye roll.
“be my friend? baby, come on now…” she had looked up at him for a moment, sighing quietly before passing her attention to aeri instead. “babes! you should totally come to sunwoo’s party tonight.“
aeri was the newest addition to y/n, yuqi, and ningning’s interchangable clique.
while the three of them stuck together like glue, it was never the same case for the fourth person.
but they had high hopes for aeri.
“i wouldn’t miss it, y/n. anything in particular i need to wear?” she questioned.
“just come to y/n’s house. she’ll get you all fixed up.” ningning’s smile widened, twirling a strand of aeri’s hair. and if anyone was paying enough attention, they could see the faint blush appearing onto the pink-haired girl’s cheeks.
“yuqi had designer dresses made for all of us! today’s your lucky day, because we have a fourth.” y/n smirked, stuffing her makeup into sunwoo’s hands.
the boy hurriedly but carefully put everything back into her purse, along with the pink iphone 16 he knew she loved so much.
“it was originally meant for yujin.” ningning explained, sipping from her stanley as they all stood up. “before she went… rogue.” her voice dropped an octave on the word ‘rogue.’ aeri believed that she understood what that meant — yujin had made friends with minjeong and the rest of the student council.
“but it’s okay, because you’re totally prettier.” y/n giggled before grabbing aeri’s arm and walking off, ningning following close behind.
sunwoo dropped his girlfriend’s phone just as they walked off, picking it up and wiping it off with his hands. “y/n, wait!”
“yuqi, we look like cheap fucking whores. i thought you said this was designer?” y/n complained over the music after they arrived fashionably late to sunwoo’s christmas party.
there were already tons of people there. people that y/n could recognize and some that she couldn’t. some were dressed appropriately for the occasion, and some were in casual clothing.
they all had something in common though — hazy clouds filled the air, and the scent of alcohol boomed throughout the whole building. clearly whoever the dj was didn’t give a fuck about christmas, and that was obvious enough with the way rihanna blasted through all of the speakers.
“this is designer! feel the material.” yuqi retaliated, caressing the faux fur that stuck out of the top and bottom of the red minidress. the belt that defined their waists brought it all together.
aeri shrugged, being pulled closer by ningning. “it’s not too bad.”
their dresses were topped off with a matching santa hat, as well as black gloves and boots.
y/n crossed her arms, poking her hip out as she scanned the crowd. they had noticed their arrival now, earning the attention from a select number of the partygoers. she sighed, knowing that she couldn’t leave early because she rode with yuqi.
unless she were to leave with someone else tonight.
“damn, baby. you look good.” sunwoo sauntered over with his red cup in hand, smelling like a mixture of weed and his signature cologne as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss against y/n’s lips.
he was dressed up as an elf. santa and the elf, how fitting for the couple.
“we look no different than the cup in your hand right now.” she pushed him away, furrowing her eyebrows.
“you look good in everything, though.” he pulled her close once more, planting open mouthed kisses to her neck.
“where’s the weed?” y/n subtly pried him off of her neck, clearing her throat. “this is a party, right?” she tilted her head, eyes burning into his.
“just come this way, baby.” and with that, he maneuvered his way through the crowd, being extremely easy to lose due to the dim and multicolored lighting and the way his green outfit looked underneath it.
the group had a bit of trouble following behind. all different types of people were around with their train of thought altered. high, drunk, both. sober.
they staggered into the kitchen, watching sunwoo open the door to a room just some feet away from them. “he went in there.” yuqi pointed out.
“hey! fucking watch it!” y/n shoved a random person after seeing them bump into aeri, who was being pulled close to ningning’s side once more.
the girl turned around, and y/n validated her own anger once she saw the girl’s face. it was ahn yujin.
yuqi stepped in front of aeri and ningning before gasping comically.
“hey! she didn’t even touch her.” a tall girl that had long brown hair spoke up for yujin with an alert expression painting her features. her name was wonyoung or something? whatever. y/n didn’t care.
“bitch, don’t lie! i saw it!” yuqi raised her voice, and wonyoung gave her a look of annoyance. this made both yuqi and y/n’s temper flare up.
y/n moved in closer to give them both a piece of her mind, but she was stopped by the familiar voice that she could recognize over any symphony.
kim minjeong’s.
“yujin? wony? what’s going on?…” the blonde haired girl was accompanied by the vice president of the student council, yu jimin.
jimin had two drinks in her hand, and yujin scurried out of sight. wonyoung was quick to give the two girls an apologetic look before following.
minjeong’s breath stopped as her eyes met y/n’s, studying the girl’s attire whilst her tongue played with her lip piercings. it was like her expression did a whole one-eighty. taken over completely by anger and something else that y/n couldn’t name.
y/n hated it.
“minjeong, huh?” she let out a laugh that was annoying to minjeong’s ears. “didn’t expect to see you here.”
it’s not that minjeong wasn’t expecting to run into y/n. this was her boyfriend’s party.
after all, y/n was the reason why she left the house tonight.
“this doesn’t look like improving your behavior.” her hand waved around y/n’s figure, arms crossed in her leather jacket. her shirt was short enough that her abs were on display.
y/n hated that.
“you aren’t innocent either, president.” y/n motioned to the red cup that was in jimin’s hand.
jimin laughed awkwardly, opening her mouth to de-escalate the situation.
“i earned this, don’t you think? for being valedictorian this semester.” minjeong spoke in a condescending manner, inching closer to y/n. the way she could see y/n’s eye twitch was the icing on the cake, smirk dancing onto her lips.
and y/n fucking hated it.
“you’re not better than me at everything, minjeong.” her words were laced with venom, even though the person in front of her was the snake.
“i’m sorry? name it.” minjeong chuckled, shoving jimin’s hand that came onto her shoulder.
“if you really wanna hear the answer, come smoke with us. i spent too much time on you.” y/n crossed her arms, smacking her gum.
minjeong was slightly taken aback, and jimin noticed this.
“hey, minjeong… we can—“
“lead the way, y/n.”
jimin’s face fell. how far was minjeong willing to go just to prove y/n wrong? her friends were in need of her help right now.
“hurry up! yuqi said sunwoo went this way.” aeri grabbed ningning’s arm, guiding her through the ocean of people as the rest of them followed, leaving jimin there alone.
“president finally letting loose, huh?” yuqi’s boyfriend, juyeon vocalized in an intrigued tone while sparking up both the blunt and the conversation. the group shared laughter of their own.
yuqi was cuddled close next to him, with aeri and ningning exactly to her left.
y/n was seated in between sunwoo and minjeong, while jake sat next to sunwoo. they were having their own conversation that y/n couldn’t care less about.
as the blunt started it’s rotation, the topic of conversation started to get lost. random thoughts were being talked about now. minjeong swore that she could hear juyeon lighting another blunt.
once it y/n passed it to minjeong, all eyes were on her.
“just do it.” y/n laughed at the worry plastered on the girl’s face.
“or are you a pussy, kim minjeong?”
that was all it took for minjeong to take a hit. a big one, too.
she blew out the smoke and immediately went into a coughing fit, sunwoo rushing to get the girl some water.
y/n felt jealousy coursing through her veins over this. but she wasn’t feeling jealous of minjeong.
“hey.” y/n stood up, elbowing sunwoo away from the blonde haired girl. she pat her back, taking the water bottle and waiting patiently for the coughing to come to an end.
once it did, minjeong tilted her head back so y/n could pour the water into her mouth. yet neither of them broke eye contact.
had aeri seen that right? because it looked like y/n pushed sunwoo away just to help minjeong. purposely.
but if sunwoo didn’t find anything wrong, she didn’t find a reason to, either.
all it took was a few minutes for the whole group to be completely faded. yuqi and her boyfriend left the room a while ago, and ningning excused herself to the bathroom. aeri followed to make sure the girl was okay.
this left jake, sunwoo, y/n, and minjeong. jake had the blunt, and he was laughing after y/n politely asked for a game of truth or dare.
“i might admit something i’ll regret later.” he shook his head, eyeing y/n considerably. this didn’t go unnoticed by sunwoo or minjeong.
she nudged y/n’s shoulder, leaning in to speak quietly once she had acquired her attention.
“the fuck does that mean, jaeyun?” sunwoo barked, sitting up slightly.
jake raised his hands, shaking his head as he yielded.
“still haven’t told me what you’re better at.” the president whispered, and the corners of y/n’s lips went upward.
“come here.” y/n grabbed minjeong’s hand as they stood up, sneaking out from the room that was full of hazy clouds.
sunwoo clicked his tongue, leaning back onto the couch as he looked over at his friend. “you gonna keep babysitting or what?”
“my bad. would hate to ruin y/n’s night.” his voice was lower now, and he handed the blunt to sunwoo, who was obviously upset.
sunwoo took a hit while shaking his head, turning his head to talk to his girlfriend.
“you good y/n—“
“the fuck? where’d they go?” he asked, coughing as he took the blunt from between his lips.
jake shrugged, and sunwoo left him alone in the room to start his search for y/n and minjeong.
“he took the blunt.” jake lifted his arms up dramatically.
y/n and minjeong were in the corner of the kitchen, and y/n smirked as she settled onto the side of the table parallel to her rival.
random people were watching as they began their game of beer pong.
“if minjeong wins, i’ll sleep with chaewon tonight.” a classmate named yunjin spoke out.
y/n started the game, easily taking the lead with two cups to zero.
“seriously? you can drink better than me? everyone knows that, y/n.” minjeong spat out once she kept losing. there were ten cups and y/n had already scored four, while she was at zero.
“hey, now. you know what they say. if you’re not drinking, you’re not playing.” y/n teased.
minjeong huffed, realizing that people were recording now. a light flush painted her cheeks. she didn’t want to seem like a total loser, at least.
she played with the piercings on her lip, finally landing the ping pong ball into one of the cups.
y/n couldn’t focus on anything else after seeing minjeong tease the lip rings, slowly losing her lead.
and after two more, the crowd began to ramp up. they were surrounded by red cups and camera flashes.
“yo, the president is about to beat y/n in beer pong!” some guy yelled out, and y/n furrowed her eyebrows. that’s not what she wanted to be remembered at this party for.
then suddenly, the crowd exchanged gasps as all of the cameras were suddenly pointed at y/n.
jimin had splashed a drink onto y/n’s dress, the liquid coating almost the entire top half of it.
and while y/n was enraged, minjeong found it the hottest sight laid upon her eyes. ever.
“minjeong! the fuck are you doing! people are recording!” jimin scolded her, grabbing her arm to drag her out of the party.
minjeong was crossfaded — she didn’t care. she hadn’t even zoned back in all the way yet.
“this is designer, you whore! it costs more than your whole life!” y/n yelled, and the room had gone quiet.
“you bitches post this anywhere and i’ll kill you.” she threatened the crowd, stomping off to the bathroom.
finally coming back to her senses, the blonde-haired girl spoke up. “jimin, what the hell?” minjeong pushed the vice president off of her shoulder, running after the girl she claimed to be the bane of her existence.
“what the fuck just happened?” a troubled sunwoo asked the crowd that had quickly dispersed and continued on with their previous activities.
a few had sobered up, but the rest replaced their tasks with getting wasted.
“i don’t know. chaewon ain’t getting laid tonight though.” ryujin commented, pouring a drink for yeji.
y/n found herself in some random bathroom, wiping frantically at the stain and trail of drink mixture trickling down her cleavage.
she groaned loudly, grabbing more paper towels when she heard the door open and close. it was no one other than kim minjeong.
she even heard the lock click.
the fucking audacity, y/n thought.
“y/n—“
“get the fuck out, minjeong!” she yelled out, words coming out slower than intended.
“let me help you—“ y/n pushed her away, chest heaving with anger as minjeong stumbled back into the door, leaning against it.
“this is all your fault, kim minjeong. she wouldn’t have spilled that drink on me if it wasn’t for you.” y/n yelled, pointing her finger at the girl. “it’s always your fucking fault!”
her words were slurred, but minjeong thought it was the hottest thing ever. had she ever gotten turned on from a girl yelling at her before?
“w-what jimin did isn’t—“
“shut up!” she moved closer to the blonde haired girl, and she didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was looking straight at her chest.
y/n couldn’t help but notice this, and it made her heartbeat accelerate. “you know what? my whole mood is ruined. just… just shut the fuck up.”
minjeong fiddled with the piercings on her lip. she didn’t want to shut up.
“let me take you home.”
“while you’re drunk? no. this is why you just need to shut up.” y/n scoffed, making minjeong want to try even harder.
“then let me pay for your uber.” minjeong spoke up again.
“what do you not understand about shutting the fuck up?“
“please, y/n?” she breathed out, pushing off of the door to hold herself up on the edge of the sink. “i’ll make sure you get home safe.”
y/n looked at the other from over her shoulder, imaging how it would feel to have her lips against her own.
“okay.” the conversation ended there and the room went silent. only for a while though.
“does sunwoo do that?”
y/n’s breath hitched, and she swallowed harshly. “do what?” she whispered back, skin on fire with the amount of fire that was burning in minjeong’s eyes.
this was the moment that they realized they both wanted each other this whole time. the way that minjeong slammed their lips together proved it.
it didn’t take long for y/n to get into the feel of the kiss, lips dancing together in a rhythmic manner as y/n pushed her back against the door.
y/n smiled into the kiss as she finally fulfilled her dream of finding out how those piercings would feel at her lips, and it had her craving more.
the president let out a quiet moan as her rival’s tongue slithered into her own mouth, cheeks flushing as she lost herself in the sensation of their heated kiss.
“y-y/n...” she breathed out, and y/n pulled back to witness the sight.
minjeong was so cute.
“this isn’t the student council president i know.” y/n smirked, challenging the girl as she connected their lips once more.
they were drowning so deep into each other that they didn’t even notice that someone was knocking at the door.
“y/n? y/n, you in here?” sunwoo called out, twisting the doorknob.
oh fuck. y/n’s stomach dropped.
minjeong took this opportunity to switch them around, trapping y/n against the door as she attacked her neck with desperate kisses.
y/n didn’t know what to do. should she stay silent?
surely sunwoo had heard the noise of her colliding with the door.
should she just pretend that they were some random couple making out?
minjeong had gotten touchy, shakily gripping y/ns waist as she marked her as her territory.
sunwoo was persistent — knocking again as he continued to call out for y/n. does this guy ever give up?
just as she heard another guy approach the door, minjeong bit down on the sweet spot of y/n’s neck.
y/n whimpered at the action, listening to the conversation that happened on the other side of the door with heavy breaths.
sunwoo was asking someone if they had seen his girlfriend.
even if y/n did want to answer now, minjeong swallowed her noises, tongues fighting each other for dominance as y/n traced the other girl’s abs.
she whined into y/n’s mouth, feeling all of her fantasies finally coming to life.
“please, y/n..” it was a desperate whisper as they pulled away just enough to breathe, not wanting to create any more distance.
“i’ll take care of you.” she panted, playing with the piercings on her lip as she eyed y/n hungrily.
“i love it when you do that.” y/n whispered, keeping eye contact with minjeong while the footsteps retreated. “yeah?” minjeong closed the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a needy kiss.
“minjeong— baby, wait...” y/n moaned, pushing the girl away.
“call the uber.”
it felt like y/n’s brain was doing summersalts inside of her head, hammering against the edges with each routine. she groaned, reluctantly opening her eyes as she scanned the room that she found herself in.
the sheets smelled like amber vanilla with a hint of tart cherry. a scent she had come to love and hate over the years.
because it belonged to kim minjeong.
y/n sat up abruptly, breathing frantically as she really examined the room that she was in. she hadn’t even noticed the figure with blonde hair that she had been previously cuddled up with. that’s why she didn’t recognize this room.
because it belonged to kim minjeong.
“shit shit shit! what the fuck?” y/n bounced out of the bed, searching for her clothes that were scattered on the floor. her phone was on the nightstand, and she could see the multiple notifications that she had received from sunwoo.
she collected everything, tip-toeing into the connected bathroom and slipping back into the outfit she had on previously.
the mirror revealed that her lip combo was stained and there were marks scattered over her skin.
she would have to hide all of this from sunwoo.
feeling the realization really sinking in now, y/n grabbed her phone and traversed into the hallway. she saw that there was a door that seemed to lead to another room, and she began to panic more.
of course minjeong has a roommate.
quickly finding her way to the living area, it was barely lit up by the sunrise. the blinds were completely closed, and there was no other light available. y/n could barely see now, so how did anyone even see when they got home?
her mind tunneled on getting out of this mess, finding one of her boots at the door. after slipping it on, she ran a hand through her hair as her eyes scanned the space for the other pair.
it had to be close, right?
she hit her knee on the sofa, yelping and kneeling down to grab it. “fuck!” she whisper-yelled, pouting up at the sofa as she mentally cursed it out.
someone walked into the living room, flicking the light on and y/n fell silent. she froze in place, closing her eyes as she hoped the sofa would hide her figure completely.
“y/n. i can see your hat.” a familiar voice called out.
what the fuck?
y/n jumped up. “ningning!” her eyes were damn near poking out of their sockets.
ningning’s lips spread into a smile, letting out a melodious laugh after she scanned all of the hickeys and love bites scattered on y/n’s collarbone area and up.
y/n was confused and embarrassed, but not ashamed. “wait, but minjeong isn’t your roommate?…” that was when another figure left the room, grabbing both of their attention.
“holy shit, aeri??” y/n called out.
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Hello dear! Idk if your requests are open but I was wondering what you would do with a first responder!mc x Jason (kudos if u get them in a jam somewhere the mc can use her "I'm a GOTHAM first responder I can handle Metropolis/central city/etc" while Jason goes suit up? 🥺 idk if u write for all pronouns but I would love if it was she/her! Thank you love your writting!
A/N: aww, thank you! ❤️
You’re his best decision he made in life. Amazing, brave, beautiful both inside and out. He adores everything about you where he’ll lay his life down for you if it means to keep you alive. So when he hears shuffling next to him, he pauses on spot.
“...What are you doing?” He lowers his helmet, watching you readjust your utility belt around your waist.
“…Doing the same as you?”
You were way too casual when you said that. It spoke volume on the severity of the situation when not only did he get paged by both Babs and Dick for back-up, he heard from the old man, himself, Bludhaven’s PD had asked all near-by cities police department’s to send in any spare first responders as soon as they could. And of the enlisted, you’re one of them.
The only thing that helps control his grip on his helmet is knowing that he’ll be very screwed in every sense if it breaks, so much cracks a tiny bit. But the snap of the taser getting clipped does little to calm him down. Throat constricting, lips thinning, reality keeps hitting him in the viscera that you’re going to be at the scene. The very same one that’s requiring every member of his family to be present for.
“Jason?”
He stays still, his head hanging low. He doesn’t want to show you the expression he’s making. He knows you're strong, stronger than him, stronger than Gotham’s finest in so many aspects. But you’re too precious to him. His one love. This could be his last time with you, he might not see you again, his one chance to give a final goodbye-
“Jason.”
He stiffens. Your hands warm his cold ones as if melting away the fear and worries plaguing his mind.
“I’m a Gotham first responder, I can handle Bludhaven.”
…So this was what Dick and Bruce meant when they said girls are unfair. Confidence in your smile, comfort in your eyes - how does anyone expect him to say no?
He heaves a heavy sigh. Shifting his helmet into one hand, he uses the other to grab and place something into your hands from his pocket. It’s metallic, no bigger than a button.
“Anything that happens, press it.”
Trust you to recognize what it was and what he means without saying the rest. Confidence and comfort morphs into affection, your arms wrap themselves around him. He savors the tight embrace, pulling you closer to him to fully relish and cherish him holding you as you are to him.
“You know I love you, right?” So sweet, so tender with a gilt of teasing from fondness is how he hears, his eyes matching it with a smirk on your lips.
“I love you more.”
“I love you the most!”
His heart flutters, falling in love with you all over again when you grin at him just before you close the door. He stands there for a hot second, your words echoing in his head. Then, he goes back to placing his helmet over his head. Steps lighter now, a tiny weight lifts from his heart. He trusts in you, that you’ll press his pager when you need him. Because he will come and save you, no matter where and the cost. Always.
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A silly little thing,, but I’m an Optimus Prime girlie & happen to also be an ‘exotic dancer’ lmao, so when I was reading Gravity….you can imagine the actual surprise & joy I felt when the reader revealed she was (or used to be one) too, like 😭😭😭 what are the ODDS?? Must be his aura….I love him, your honor
It’s meant to be!
Gravity Pt 12
Optimus x Reader
• Staring at the screen long after Megatron’s little message ends and his fellow Autobots that had seen it start speculating, all he can think of is that he’s not alone. And it’s a relief. Leaving the warmth of you to report for his duties had been difficult. Especially since you’d woken up first and had straddled him. Even deep in recharge, his body responding to those soft hands touching him. Definitely not the worse way to come to alertness and even though he’d hit the washracks, he swears he can still scent you clinging to him. But then it really sinks in. That the Decepticons are taking humans and using them. Because that’s an atrocity that hadn’t even occurred to him.
• Stretching to touch your toes, you idly run through a few stances to limber up because you’re bored out of your mind. As much fun as playing with Optimus is, as soon as he leaves, you’re alone with your thoughts again. Remembering the look on his face before he’s schooled his expression into neutrality. Like a big, lovesick puppy, hurt that sex is all you want. Blowing out a breath as you spin in a slow circle, head tipping back, you know you’d lied to him. But then, you’d lied to yourself to. Saying you don’t want more, when deep down, you do. You’re just afraid to hope, to let down your defenses knowing you can get hurt again if you do. That love is just a pretty lie used to reach a goal.
• Sliding into his seat, he steeples his servos as he listen to the bits of gossip and conversation around him. How many humans are in the Ark at this point? Honestly, he’s not sure anymore. But he does know one thing, he’s probably not the only one who’s gotten attached to their ward. Who’s crossed that particular line. And it’s out there now for all of them, the fact that their species are at least compatible that way. Dropping his head into his hands, he stares at the floor. Because someone’s going to need to have that conversation with the Autobots keeping humans. On the ethics of taking advantage of a much younger species. And how is he supposed to do that when he’s interfacing with you?
• Head lifting when he finally returns, your smile wavers when he just stares at you. “You look like the other kids were bullying you, babe.” Venting he sits on the edge of the berth and then just slumps backwards, hands over his face. Oh. Well this is new, usually he’s so calm and serious. Climbing up his arm and over onto his chassis, you drop to straddle his neck, arms crossed on his chin. “Want me to beat up someone for you?” When his head tips to look at you, you lift an arm to flex your nonexistent muscle for him.
• Your mischievous expression twists through him as he lifts a servo to slide against your spine. “When we- er- interfaced,” he says, ignoring when you cheerfully interject ‘fucked like bunnies.’ “I didn’t pressure you. Right?” Because he can’t imagine what those poor humans captured by the Decepticons are suffering and can’t help but wonder if you’d let him have you out of intimidation or fear.
• “Oh, you are too sweet for words. If anything I seduced you, big guy.” Laughing as he frowns seriously at you, you push up to stand on his neck and drape yourself against his chin, tapping a finger on his bottom lip. “Don’t worry. I promise you didn’t corrupt my innocence.” More likely, you’re corrupting his.
• “I could have,” he says, joking as some of his worry eases and you grin, brows lifting. Expression giving away how much you doubt that. “I can be a bad influence.” His protest just makes you laugh, that warm sound stroking over him. How can this be wrong when you feel so much like home? When he wants to lay beside you and exchange stories. Ask about each other’s day and spend his free time in your arms, listening to you laugh with him. Wants so much more than your body. “The Decepticons are taking humans.” Unable to say to interface with.
Previous
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Sherlock fandom.
When You Lose Yourself
“John. Wake up. You’re here. Safe. Home.”
Sherlock’s dark and hoarse voice was full of worry. He knew he mustn’t touch John when he has a nightmare. It could end badly. John might perceive Sherlock as a threat to his own safety, lost in the Afghan desert as he was.
“Please, John.”
He raised his voice, desperate to get through to his lover, but still John was lost to him. His wailing broke Sherlock’s heart.
Violin. Get your violin.
Sherlock’s inner voice coaxed him into action. Swiftly, though reluctantly, he left the bedroom and picked up his violin from the case. Soon, Bach’s Lullaby sounded in the sitting room. His instinct told him to stay there instead of returning to their bedroom. John wasn’t accustomed to hearing it in there, which probably would confuse him.
Familiarity is what John needed.
“I know,” Sherlock answered himself through gritted teeth, and continued playing John’s favourites.
His entire body longed to be close to John, but he heeded John’s previous warnings.
“I hurt Sarah when she tried to wake me from a nightmare. Gave her a black eye, and her throat was bruised for more than a week.”
After that, John had stopped dating, and it took him an agonising six months agreeing to share Sherlock’s bed. He always went up to his room when they’d had sex, though, too afraid to assault Sherlock in his sleep. When Sherlock had protested, vehemently so, John just set his jaw, and refused to listen.
“Anything could happen, Sherlock. It was horrifying enough what I did to Sarah. I didn’t love her. But you…no, I just can’t.”
It had been an accident when John fell asleep in Sherlock’s bed the first time. He’d been exhausted and sleep-deprived, just as Sherlock had been. The case was solved, but in the aftermath, after John had been abducted, again, they craved to be close. It wasn’t sexual. They needed to assure themselves that they’d got through it unscathed.
John had panicked the morning after, but Sherlock told him to shut it, and stop being an idiot. So, that was the end of them sleeping alone.
The nightmare came as a shock. Sherlock had naively thought that his presence would keep them at bay.
Stupid. Stupid!
He realised that his anxiousness could be heard in his playing, so he zoomed in, focused solely on the music. He didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard John’s voice.
“You are so beautiful when you lose yourself like this.”
Sherlock blinked but didn’t stop playing. When the piece ended, he lowered his bow and violin, placed the items in his chair, and opened his arms. John came willingly and they stood close for an eternity, not speaking, just breathing and wallowing in the other man’s familiar scent and form.
“Thanks for not trying to touch me,” John said finally. “Did you speak?”
“Yes,” Sherlock whispered, still heartbroken that he couldn’t wake John from his night terrors.
“I’m sorry, my love,” John murmured and caressed Sherlock’s cheek.
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault, John. I…I just felt so…helpless. I’m supposed to solve puzzles, be the smartest man in the room at any given time, but – “
“Shh. This is not a case, Sherlock. It’s trauma. And…well, it can’t be fixed, not entirely at least.”
He took a firm grip of Sherlock’s upper arms, urging his beloved detective to look at him.
“It is better than it was. Before I met you, it happened every night. When I moved in with you, they only appeared once or twice a week. And now, I’ve shared your bed for almost a month. What does that tell you?”
Sherlock looked down at his best friend, his blogger, his doctor, his captain, his John, seeing nothing but love and affection on his face. Gone was the agony from half an hour ago. He gave John a smile, and the one he got in return could light up all of London.
Instead of answering the question they both knew the answer to, Sherlock cradled John’s face with his hands and kissed him. Strong arms pulled him closer, and when they returned to the bedroom, an uncertain number of minutes later, Sherlock’s anxiety had evaporated. Tightly tangled in each other’s limbs, they slept without any interruptions until the sun bathed their sanctuary in a golden light the following morning.
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