#i mean not to flex but the man took both of my hands in his looked into my eyes and thanked me and i was about to fling myself into the sun

[entitled-fangirl]

Violence through his veins.

Benjicot Blackwood x wife!reader

Summary: Benjicot is an overly nervous man around his wife, blushing every time. After the Battle at the Burning Mill, Benji exudes confidence. It throws her off.

Warnings: HEAVY talks of sex. Blood, war, violence, etc.

A/N: based on an ask! We get a little shy Ben, then a little Bloody Ben! It's the best of both worlds!!!

Masterlist

..........................................

She stepped down the stairs, paying more attention to the man that stood at the bottom of the staircase. 

Benjicot Blackwood stood at the bottom of the stairs. He was chatting lightly to a lord, not noticing her approaching yet. 

She took a moment to admire him. His broad shoulders flexed as he rolled them back. He no doubt wanted to crawl into a hole and not come back out. She was beginning to know him well just from his body language. 

The man he was talking to looked up, noticing her coming down the stairs. "My lady?"

Benji turned immediately at that. His eyes lit up at the sight of her. "My love?" He asked softly.

She hit the bottom step and stopped. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to interrupt you."

Benji let out a soft breath of relief. "No. That's fine." He excused himself from the man and held out his arm like a proper gentleman, which she took.

The two walked down the corridor in silence and she was the one to break it. "You looked miserable."

"Did I?" He immediately asked in concern, then relaxed. "Thought I was hiding it pretty well."

She hummed. "He didn't seem to notice."

"And you did?" 

She shrugged and tightened her grip on his bicep. "We're married."

His brows came together in thought. His heart felt a small jolt at the thought that she recognized his anxiety so easily. "We are," he agreed, "Is that how it works?"

"Well, I don't know in all honesty," she admitted. "But I know you fairly well."

"And I to you."

The silence continued as they continued to walk. It was comforting, and they found that they didn't mind it. But Benji's mind was wandering and he couldn't stop it. 

"Is that why you interrupted?"

She hummed in consideration of what to tell him. "A lady never interrupts on purpose."

His eyes met hers, and a blush crept over his cheeks. The two looked away. 

"I-I'll have to go soon. I have to patrol."

"You won't be here to sup?"

"No..."  

"Oh." She pulled her hand back and smoothed down her skirt. "Well, that's alright. How late will you be gone?"

He rubbed at the back of his neck. "I imagine before you sleep, though I'm unsure."

"I've been… missing you, as of late," she admitted with a flushed expression. 

His cheeks flushed as well. "H-Have you?"

"It has been a few days." She dared to reach out and brush over his shoulder. "The people are expecting us to do our duties."

"Is that the only reason?" His breathed out as the heat in his body rose. 

She stepped forward, placing a delicate kiss to his jaw. "No."

A small whine fell from his lips. His shaky hands made their way to her hips and his head tilted up to give her more room. 

She took advantage of it, nipping at his Adam's apple. 

He groaned. "I must go."

"Stay," she begged.

"I-I can't."

She placed her forehead on his chest. "But you'll be back soon?"

He brushed a hand through her hair. "As soon as I can be, my love."

…

The news of the Battle had sent her into a tailspin that evening. Her sweet husband in a battle with the Brackens?

When news was received that the battle had ended, she all but ran to the battlefield. The stable boy had handed her the reigns to her horse and she was off. 

Once upon the field, she took note of the numerous scattered bodies across the field. It panicked her more, knowing that her sweet Benjicot could be one of them. 

The small group of men across the field loudly chatted and yelled, no doubt celebrating their victory. They were crowded in a circle, all in Blackwood red.

She rode to them, and their attention turned to her. 

Benicot stepped out from the circle, his body covered head to toe in blood. His hair was smeared with the remains of his enemies, his eyes so dark, they were hard to spot through the blood. 

But that wasn't what was so alarming.

It was the confidence that oozed from his form. His shoulders were back, his chest puffed out in a way she'd never seen. His eyes held a fire to them, one that was now set on her. He sheathed his sword, opening his arms out. "The hell are you doing here?"

She jumped off of her horse, running to him. When within reach, her hands frantically moved over him, trying to figure out his injuries- if he even had any. It was so difficult to tell through the blood. "Are you hurt?"

His hands had instinctively moved to her waist, keeping her in a vice grip. "You sweet woman. So concerned for me, you journeyed into a battle, unsure if it was over yet?"

"Well… yes… I guess so-"

"Hear that boys?" He called over his shoulder. "The lady cares for her new Lord."

They cheered and quipped various things in response, but she heard none of them. "Benji? What do you mean? Is your father-"

"-Dead," he finished for her. "Died to a Bracken sword. And I killed the Bracken. First blood of the new Lord's sword is one of a Bracken! Isn't that joyful?"

Her face fell. "Oh, Benji. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" He gawked at her, and a sinister smile came over his face. "I'm Lord Blackwood now. And you are my Lady. Are you not incandescently happy?"

"Benjicot. Are you hurt?"

He shook his head and pulled her closer. "I've never felt more alive," he growled in her ear. 

She gripped him by his biceps, her fingers catching on the metal armor around him. "You're different."

His fingers squeezed her hips. "I'm alive," was his answer.

Her head picked up to look up at his face. He was staring down at her, his lips parted. The two took a moment to truly drink the other in. 

Benjicot's hand came up to her face and cupped her cheek. The contact made her eyes close for a moment, not caring about the blood that smeared across her cheek. 

"My heart is pounding," he admitted.

She braved a move, pushing herself firmly against him and kissing his lips softly. 

A groan sounded from within him, and he soon dipped his head down to catch her lips further. The kiss deepened heavily, the two beginning to fight for dominance. Their breaths mixed between kisses. 

"I'm taking you back to Raventree," he panted. "Now. I can't wait any longer for a taste of you."

He shouted something over his shoulder at the guys, all of them waving or voicing a bye of sorts, obviously trying to give the lustful man a little privacy. 

He spoke as he tugged her along. "The gods have made you just for me, haven't they?"

"I'm beginning to believe they have."

A smirk came across his face. "They have. And I for you. I know how well you take me."

Her face flushed. "I don't know what you're talking ab-"

He dug his heel into the dirt, stopping them and tugging her to him. It caught her off guard, but he caught her with ease. "You do," he pushed. "You know very well what I mean." He leaned forward slowly, as if trying to earn the trust of prey. His face tucked into the crook of her neck, beginning to kiss and lightly suck at the skin. "The way you take me is my proof that the gods are in my favor."

"Not-" her breath caught when he nipped a sensitive spot. "Not your victory over the Brackens?"

"No," he quickly answered, as if it was obvious.

"How much further to your horse?" She softly asked.

He took a deep breath against her, savoring each passing second of being consumed by the very thought of her. "Depends on how many times I have to stop to admire you."

She smiled and tugged at his hair playfully. He groaned. 

…

Seemed that when violence moved through his veins, so did confidence. Not that she minded. Both Benjis were perfect to her.

.........................................

[madamdionysia]

Plasma (Law x GN!Reader)

Summary: Law never brings up his tattoos and their story. Then you ask him one day.

Word Count: 1,056

Read on Ao3

Dividers By: @cafekitsune (thank you for all of your work!)

Notes: My thoughts about Law's tattoos and how Corazon caught fire spiraled into this. I also don't go in depth with the Donquixote Family side of matters, including the exact details of Cora's spying and muteness. It's mostly just a conversation between Law and the reader about his tattoos that could be read platonically or romantically. My medical knowledge isn't up to par with Law's, but I did my best.

Takes place sometime post-Zou.

Unedited (mostly) but I'm still happy with how it turned out.

Fun facts:

Ancient tattoo pigments were made from soot, charcoal, and such.

Plasma is a component of blood, but it is also used to describe a state of matter. Whether or not fire is a plasma depends mostly on its temperature.

It feels like an eon has passed since the question left your lips, tumbling to the ground between the two of you like dried timber ready to catch flame. Law’s lips parted, his eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but he tugged his hat over his face and schooled his expression with such rapidity you would have thought you offended him. But you know him better. Offering him your silence while he gathered himself wasn’t uncommon in this relationship, and Law was grateful for it right now as his inked hands ran through his hair.

He sighed, a sound of his relentment, and let his power take you to his quarters. For his own privacy. He wasn’t one to show vulnerability. Between his duties as captain and doctor, as well as his troubled past, you knew he had to be quick to think and act. Emotions would only hinder that swiftness required for survival.

Law starts with his hands, the word DEATH across both knuckles. The irony of his profession is not lost on you until he detailed Doflamingo’s plot for Law to give his own life for the bastard’s eternal one. If Doflamingo wanted life, the healing touch of a doctor, Law would be certain that he would never get it. When you point out that most tattoos across the first phalanges face away from the owner of them, Law corrected you.

“Proximal phalanges.”

“Whatever.”

You punctuated your statement with an eye roll and continued listening to him. He obtained his Devil Fruit powers before his tattoos, this you knew, but since ascertaining much of his abilities he decided on the placement of the tattoos. Not only for that pink feathered demon, but also for his enemies in general. A warning for what was to become of them.

The back of his hand related to his medical knowledge, as did the central part of the forearm design. And the surrounding prongs of his Jolly Roger. All symbolizing the extruding envelope proteins of a virus. The remaining circular designs on his forearms were both reminiscent of another virus design but also incorporated the Room ability of his powers. The spiked spheres surrounding the viral symbols representing another aspect of his doctoral talents, much like the rest of his ink explained thus far.

“It’s also a lymphocyte eradicating a virus.”

“A what?”

“A white blood cell.”

“Oh. Well, at least your Jolly Roger tat is self-explanatory.”

“Yes and no, I’ll get to that.”

He took a deep breath, steading himself once more. Then he removes his shirt, folding it neatly beside him on the bed. He scratched at the back of his head, his ink stretching and flexing with the skin it's permanently embedded in. Law lets his arms fall back to his sides.

“I never tell those about the man that saved me…”

But here he was, detailing his early years to you regardless. You listen quietly, giving him the space to dredge the words up through memories long buried. The fire set to his hometown. The loss of his loved ones. The manipulation of Doflamingo and the subsequent escape with his brother.

“Corazon means heart. His brother awarded him the Heart Seat when he returned, feigning muteness…”

So this was how his upper arms earned their hearts, you thought, for the one who saved him.

“Muteness?”

“Part of his cover, let me get there.“

And apparently Corazon held a clumsy streak, nearly setting himself on fire multiple times. Law went off the subject for a moment to list the various pranks the other Donquixote family members would play on the poor guy. But as it turned out, Law found out that Doffy’s younger brother was a commander in the Marines. No one called him by his real name, except his eldest brother as Rosinante lay on his deathbed of snow.

“When I first joined the family, Corazon would try his hardest to get me to leave. He didn’t like seeing children under his brother’s influence.”

A pang echoed in your chest, like a can crumpling. No one should have been under that influence, but you kept this to yourself. You had decided you had interrupted Law enough during his explanation and that you didn’t want him to recede back internally with the memories. It was best that he lay them out, like his surgical tools cleansed and neatly arranged to be used for his benefit. Perhaps it was a good thing, you thought, for him to get all of this off of his chest. Though the ink would stay.

“The last time I saw him was with this huge grin…”

He gestured to the Jolly Roger embroidered on your clothes. A toothy, rebellious smile. Much like the tattoos on his hands, that defiant DEATH in the face of Doflamingo. You let out a low chuckle, letting your thoughts process it all.

“And this heart…”

He placed a hand over his chest now, palm covering that miniature grin as if to hold Corazon. Above his fingers spread the tendrils of flame, curved and clinging to his clavicles in such a way that they shifted and flickered like a real blaze.

“…Well, he was named for a heart and he caught on fire a lot…”

Law’s sweet, you realized, and had a wicked sense of humor. He elaborated that it initially symbolized that burning revenge he felt, a scorching desire to overcome the Heavenly Demon and take victory over him in memory of Corazon. Thoughts swirled in your head, ashes swept up by smoke. The conversation smoldered and glowed now like the remnants of the campfire on Zou, still warm and comforting against the chill of night.

“How come you never tell anyone else about your tattoos?”

“Too much explanation.”

“Then how come you told me?”

Law smirked and replied, “I don’t think I need to worry about you.”

Cryptic as always, you lamented, but he’s right. You weren’t one for divulging other’s secrets. Even as the conversation died out and Law shrugged his shirt back on, you couldn’t help but wonder if there’s anyone else that Law would let under his skin. If one day, the bridge between the two of you gave way to an inferno. That he would then collect the soot and charcoal left over, as deep as the pigment that’s marked on his body.

[pseudowho]

"Kento...can I...can I paint you?"

Kento glanced back over his shoulder, sleepy, to where you sat massaging knots out of his back. He didn't know why he'd bothered perusing his shelves beforehand; your hands had moulded and made him heavy, and he sunk, unbidden, his book forgotten and his eyelids made of lead, groaning in bliss.

Your eyes traced Kento's back...his arms...his hands. All ripped and reformed, broken and made stronger, the scars (both old and new), criss-crossing him, his life-story turned roadmap.

At some points, Kento's body seemed as though it would last centuries and end up in a museum somewhere, with futuristic admirers who did not know him as you did. At other points, he was just a porcelain man, full of cracks, to be handled with care lest he break.

Kento hummed; a cover-all rumble, unsure.

"...paint me?" He teased, a coy half-smile on the corner of his mouth. "Like one of your French girls?"

You laughed, kissing his shoulder blades, still stroking those seams of pink flesh with your fingertips. He shuddered, the hairs on the base of his undercut standing on end.

"Not quite...do you trust me?"

"Yes." No hesitation.

"Then just...close your eyes."

Kento huffed through his nose, leaning forwards on his elbows and clasped calloused hands. He heard you rattling around behind him, the tap running, the soft dompf of you resettling on the sofa. More rattling, and your quiet voice.

"Stay still..."

Kento jumped, shivering as the tip of a fine, wet brush licked at the skin on his shoulder blade. He hummed again, dubious.

"Oh...you meant paint me."

"Semantics."

"Bless you."

You laughed at his gentle idiocy. "Keep still."

In truth, as your brush traced idle patterns over his shoulder, his arm, and his hand, Kento didn't need to be told to keep his eyes closed even once. He meant it when he said he trusted you; and he meant it when your presence rocked him to sleep. Time lost meaning as he dozed, sat like The Thinker as you finally removed your brush from his hand.

"There. All done."

Kento opened his eyes...to art.

Patches of the back of his hand had been brushed matte with a soft jade green, fading out against peach flesh. Through the jade, where pink seams had once scored the skin, they now ran golden, liquid beauty joining the edges of his pain and history. And it was...lovely.

Kento swallowed thickly, laid bare beneath your eyes. He gently flexed his hand, seeing how the green and gold flexed with him, held together by your very own repairs. He tracked more and more patches up his forearm, his bicep, over his shoulder...

Kento was quiet, stoic, vulnerable. He whispered, as you took lamplit photos of your work. "I adore you."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Christmas had come and gone, and still, Kento did not allow you to touch him as he once did.

The air between you was as taut as the flesh of his left side. You washed the dishes, and he dried, kept company only by the hush of the taps and clink of the plates. Kento reached for a mug with his left hand, and, numb-fingered, dropped it with a spitting curse, to where it shattered beyond repair around your feet.

Barefoot, and pausing with an oh!, you lifted your foot as if to move, and Kento berated you, growling, snapping.

"Stay where you are."

"Kento, it's alright, I'll get it--"

"No. It's my mess. My fault. Sit down."

"Really, it's fine--" Your words cut off with a squeak, as one strong arm looped around your waist. Kento grunted as he lifted you out of the shards with ease, to his body, only to drop you to safety the moment your hands began to brush his bare chest.

"Sit down." Kento rumbled, dark and sullen, his one good eye glowering at you beside the patch. You prickled, rejected. You refused to sit. Watching Kento, as he finished vacuuming, your eyes drifted without thought between him, and your paint set in the chest beneath the kitchen cabinet.

On his way over to the sofa, Kento spotted you, and scoffed, hissing with pain as he dropped himself to sit. He sneered, nasty.

"Sorry, my love. Not enough gold in that box to repair me."

You gritted your teeth, your mouth twisted in disgust, tears in your eyes. You pushed your chair away in a tearful rage, and padded over to Kento, fast, determined.

The briefest flicker of alarm crossed his half-burned face as you straddled him, trapping him to the sofa with a hand on each cheek. You spat, forcing him to see you, gripping him down as he writhed to get away.

"Then I'll break into palaces. I'll rob museums. I'll be a thief in the night. Because they don't deserve it, not like you do."

Kento cursed at you, twisting like a rat in a trap, and you held on tighter, sick of being pushed away, and you forced the words out of you as tears spilled over to drop onto his chest.

"And if there's not enough gold there then I'll melt myself down, but you don't need gold because you're not broken--"

"--get off me-- let me go--"

"No." You cried, looping your arms around his neck, your core pressed to his. The air stilled, his rejection rejected.

You panted, your shoulders heaving, weeping into his neck. Kento and you sat this way in silence, the tap still running and forgotten, your sniffles muffled into his neck. You felt him soften, his hands coming to rest on your hips, stroking you.

Kento's voice was thick, agonised. "You...deserve someone whole."

"I don't want them. They're nothing to me. It's you, or no-one."

Kento's teeth bared, his face stinging as it crumpled, salty tears washing away the grief. He gripped onto you, the fracture not breaking under stress; the bond, golden.

And when you finally did paint him, how he shone.

[dilf-c0nn0isseur]

can you write a smut where the reader rides logan's abs, i mean 😍

wishing this could be me right now🫡 enjoy!

riding his abs - logan howlett x fem!reader 18+

NSWF! MDNI!

Logan looked like he had been sculpted by God himself. I mean, those abs? Dude is cut.

You were currently lying in bed next time, admiring his perfect body. Your index finger traced lightly over the divots of his muscles. "God Logan, your body is unreal." No matter how long you'd been with him, his physique never fails to amaze you. Your compliment made the corners of his lips twitch up into a smirk.

"You like what you see Bub?," he teased with a flex of his muscles, putting his veins on full display. A puddle formed between your legs, the wetness seeping through the thin pair of underwear you had on. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. Cocky motherfucker.

"Holy shit Lo, you can't just tease me like that."

"Who said I was teasing?"

With one muscular arm, he lifted you easily up so that you were sitting on his abdomen. You gasped as he flexed with you on top of him, your soaking core pressed against his abs. He cocked an eyebrow up at you, smirk returning. "Is that really all it takes to get you going?," he snorted. "Dirty slut." With another swift movement, he ripped your panties off and flung them to the floor.

His confident, cocky attitude made you even hornier than you already were. Without even realizing, your hips bucked into his stomach against his rock hard abs.

"Pleasuring yourself on my muscles now?," he blew out a low whistle. You realized what you had been doing. An embarrassed blush crept up your face. "Sorry-"

"Don't apologize. I mean fuck, I could sit here all day and watch you get yourself off with my body."

His approval came as a surprise to you. "Really?"

His eyes grazed your body hungrily. "Yes, really, now get to work sugar," he ordered.

The thought of you pleasuring yourself on his abs with him sitting there and watching you brought another flood in-between your legs. Biting your lip, you began to grind on him slowly, pressing your hands against his chest for support. Fuck, even his chest was rock hard muscle.

Sure, he could just sit there and watch the show you were putting on, but come on, it was Logan. There was no way that man could keep his hands off of you. He grabbed your tits in both of his hands- his huge hands- and squeezed. "Fuck doll, you're so wet." His pet name for you made you buck your hips again, grinding your clit against his hard stomach. "Oh fuck Logan!"

The natural lubricant that seeped out of your cunt made it easy to slide back and forth on him. It was like when you were younger, an innocent, mindlessly humping a pillow, except now, it was a man beneath you, his muscles aiding you in your pleasure. Things really do come full circle, don't they?

The rough calluses of Logan's thumbs swirling around your sensitive nipples sent waves of pleasure through your body. You felt yourself climbing towards your peak.

"Getting close sweetheart?," his low, husky voice asked.

You nodded and responded with a high moan, unable to answer him with words.

"Good girl, finish yourself off on me. I want you to make a fucking mess of me."

The growl in his voice, the praise, brought you to your climax. Your hands moved to his hair and dug your fingers in, pulling at it as you lost control and came on him.

"Good girl, such a good, fucking girl," he talked you through your orgasm, somehow making you cum 10 times harder.

Once you came off of your high, you slid off of him, flopping down on the bed next time. You shivered. Then, you took in the mess you had made of his stomach. Your cum had pooled around his abs, glistening. "Oh, shit Logan, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't apologize," He cut you off, sliding a finger up his stomach to collect the mess you had just made, and stick it in his mouth to get a taste. He threw his head back and let out a throaty groan around his finger. "Y'Taste so good doll."

Logan lifted up your chin to bring his lips to yours, letting you taste yourself.

"You are the only person that could ever do that to me," you murmured.

He snorted and looked back at his toned abdomen, shining with your cum. "You did that to yourself, Bub."

[catching-the-light]

wc: 1.2k

[18+ only]

content: mentions of oral sex [f receiving], unprotected sex and cockwarming [very brief]

[just a little something i wrote. pretty much all smut with little to no plot.]

With the side of her face pressed down into the mattress and hips snapping against her ass - all that flooded her ears were his deep grunts, the sound of skin clashing and her lewd moans. He had woken her up in the middle of the night, but she didn’t mind. She had given him permission to wake her up whenever he needed it. More specifically, she had even given him permission to wake her up by kissing her right between her plush thighs. It was one of her favorite things - waking up to her boyfriend eating her out. She didn’t understand how he could be so good at it. All her previous boyfriends had complained when she asked for it. They would say it made their jaw hurt. That they didn’t like the thought of putting their tongue down there, but they never did complain when she would put her tongue on them.

Harry was unlike any other man she had met. He doted on her. He took care of her. He provided for her. If it were up to him, (Y/N) would never have to lift a finger, but he knew that his girl also liked being self-sufficient. He both admired and loathed how independent she could be sometimes. He loved how strong she was, but sometimes it scared him. He couldn’t help but wonder every now and then what would happen if (Y/N) realized she didn’t need him anymore - didn’t want to be his anymore. Harry was sure that his heart would never be mended if that happened.

(Y/N) was his everything. He never had a love like her before, and he had no intention of having another love ever. He was going to marry her. That was a cold hard fact.

“Harry,” she whimpered as she brought one of her hands back and behind her.

He knew what she wanted, and he gave it to her. Placing his large hand in hers, he intertwined their fingers - flexing his to give hers a soft squeeze.

“Feeling good, baby?” Harry’s chin rested against his chest as he looked down at where his thick cock entered his girlfriend.

(Y/N) just hummed in response, but that wasn’t enough for Harry. Propping one foot up on the mattress, he brought his freehand down and swatted at one of her ass cheeks. ��You know that’s not going to cut it.”

Stopping his thrusts, he pulled out which caused (Y/N) to gasp, and she looked over her shoulder at him with wide eyes. She was flipped onto her back faster than she could blink.

Harry’s hands came down to her thighs, and he pushed them apart before plunging back inside of her with one fluid roll of his hips.

“Oh my god,” (Y/N) moaned with her eyes screwed shut. “You’re so fucking deep, H.”

Smirking to himself, Harry leaned down and scraped his teeth against his beautiful girlfriend’s jawline. “Do you like that, (Y/N)? Feeling me so deep in there?”

“Yes, yes,” she panted as he started pounding into her once more. “I love it when you’re this deep. I feel you all the way…all the way in here.”

Placing a hand over her lower stomach, (Y/N) pressed down - eliciting a groan from Harry and another mewl of pleasure from her with just how good that felt. 

(Y/N) was never properly fucked before, and Harry caught onto that by the first time they slept together. She made him work for it, something he didn’t mind doing by any means, but when the time actually came, he was seething at her past lovers at what he had seen. Sexy and confident (Y/N) had retreated into a shell of herself the moment he had her laid out on his mattress. She had asked him to turn almost all the lights off, and the ones that were left on had been turned down. She had asked that he not remove her bra, and that he just pull her panties to the side. It pained him to realize that she didn’t want him to see her fully naked.

That changed before Harry entered her that night. He took his time to kiss over every inch of her skin. To compliment every piece of her that he could see. He let her know that she was by far the prettiest thing he had ever seen in the world. The most beautiful woman to ever be in his bed. He made it clear that no one before her ever compared, and that no one ever would.

By the time he took her home the next morning, (Y/N) had allowed Harry to take her in four different positions, resulting in six orgasms total. It was obvious to both of them that they’d never get enough of each other just after that one night. 

“Squeezin’ my cock so tight. You’re gonna have me coming sooner than I want to,” Harry huffed out a laugh at himself, and it caused (Y/N) to also giggle. “But, fuck, honey, you just feel too damn good. Such a snug little thing.”

His words had (Y/N)’s cunt pulsing around him even more, and he could tell she was right on the edge of her orgasm. 

Sucking on the pad of his thumb, Harry brought it down to start rubbing precise circles against his girlfriend’s clit, and that had her arching her back off the bed.

“Holy shit,” she gasped - toes curling and fists clenching against the pale pink sheets surrounding them. “I’m about to cum.”

Harry watched as (Y/N) threw her head back which resulted in her pretty neck being completely exposed to him. He could feel her walls beginning to clamp down around him, and with one more deep thrust, her orgasm gushed around his length.

“Good girl,” he crooned, leaning down to kiss over (Y/N)’s collarbone. “Such a good girl f’me.”

Once she felt like the air had properly returned to her lungs, (Y/N) blinked her eyes open to stare at the gorgeous man above her.

“Fill me up, please,” she pouted her lips at him as she tapped her fingertips against the spot on her stomach that she had pressed down on earlier. “Right in here.”

“Yeah?” Harry smirked as he gripped onto her hips and angled them up just a little more. “Want it tucked up in there?”

“Mhmm,” (Y/N) hummed with a nod of her head. “I like it when it’s up there that far. It takes longer to drip out of me, and I like feeling it for as long as I can.”

(Y/N) could be dirty when she wanted to be, but he had never heard her say something like that to him before. Choking out a moan, Harry felt the warmth in his lower abdomen boil over, and before he could process it, he was shooting his load inside her slick pussy.

Biting down on her bottom lip, (Y/N) reeled from the feeling of Harry pumping his cum into her. He didn’t stop until he felt like he couldn’t hold himself up with his shaky arms anymore. He collapsed against her chest, and she wrapped her arms around him as they both continued to come down from their highs.

“I love when you wake me up in the middle of the night like that,” (Y/N) played with Harry’s curls as she spoke. “Can we fall back asleep like this?”

“Sure, baby,” Harry puckered a kiss to the top of one of her breasts. “And then when we wake up in a few hours, I’ll continue fucking that same load into you before giving you another."

[mymindisneverhere]

warnings: 18+, SMUT, dirty talk, unprotected sex, & more but don’t say I ain’t warn you.

Summary: Aaron is head of an architect firm who just hired a new assistant who is very nervous yet severely attracted to him.

(this is my first time writing one of these but I had to cause this man got me in a chokehold. enjoy!) 🩵

Assistance

She watched as his back muscles flexed with every rep. He had been exercising for the past 30 minutes and she didn’t want to interrupt but this was an emergency. Meagan had been Mr. Pierre’s assistant for 3 months now and she was enjoying her time with him. He was a kind yet stern gentleman who took his business endeavors very seriously. He needed her to send the final blueprints of a new building his architect firm would be preparing to build this coming fall. The deadline was in an hour and there were still bits and pieces of information missing. She knew how much this meant to her boss but she also knew how much his private workout routines meant to him as well.

She didn't mean to stare but she couldn’t tear her gaze from his glistening body. This man was sculpted by the creator themselves. Every muscle flexed perfectly and the veins in his arms went well with his masculine physique. She studied his movements as he brought both of his arms up and down above his head, doing what they called “Shoulder Press”. After a few more reps he slammed the dumbbells down and leaned forward to catch his breath. She had been in such a trance that she didn’t notice him looking up to see her staring in the mirror.

“Do you like your job?” He asked in a stern tone.

”Uh y-yes.” She stammered, shaking her head to bring herself back into the present moment, pushing her curly hair behind her ears.

”Then I suggest you get back to it then.” He stated, reaching for a towel and throwing it over his shoulder.

“Um, Mr. Pierre sir, th-there are a few details missing from the blueprints. We h-have an hour and uh, I-I didn’t want to send them t-to the contractors until-“ She stuttered. She hated when this happened. She’d get so nervous that her words would struggle to leave her mouth. She always struggled with her speech impediment since a child but it had gotten better over the years, that is until she met Mr. Pierre.

He walked over to her grabbing the papers from her hand reviewing the layouts of the new fine arts museum that would be built right in the center of downtown. As he looked over the paperwork the two sat in silence. Well he was silent but he could hear her struggling to breathe as he stood a few inches away from her. He made her nervous and he liked it. It wasn’t anything new to him though.

Being the man that he was with a million dollar business caused women to gawk at the sight of him. What he didn’t enjoy about these women were the ones who were obviously bothered by his presence but chose to put on a front. He knew that he could be intimidating and he hadn’t done it on purpose. But the women who tried so hard to match his aura always failed tremendously. The over talking, over sexualizing themselves, practically throwing themselves at him when they weren’t even prepared for the type of man he was, irritated him.

But his assistant, Meagan, was a different story. She’d get nervous from time to time when speaking with him but she’d never force herself to hide it. He’d notice that she’d take a few deep breaths, take a sip of water and then get right back to it like she never missed a beat. He liked that. He had to admit watching her struggle around him fed his ego a bit.

He looked to her and handed her the papers, giving her the corrections to make before sending it off to be finalized.

“Is that all?” He asked, staring down at her with a stern expression.

“Yes sir, thank you.” She grabbed the papers with a steady hand, slowly to be sure she didn’t drop them or make it obvious that he had her shook. She placed the folder with the paperwork under her arm and turned to leave his in-home gym.

He stood watching her walk away, admiring her natural body from her defined hips that slightly dipped into deep dimples to her voluptuous ass. No matter how many pairs of tights she’d wear, they would never stop the natural jiggle that happened when she’d walk. He felt his dick jump in his workout tights and he knew he had to have her. He immediately grabbed his phone and made his way to his bedroom to shower.

Meagan sat at the kitchen island, her fingers going a mile a minute as she sent email after email. They had done it, they had just secured the lot for the new Museum of Fine Arts and this meant Mr. Pierre would have a large check coming to him very soon. This was her first big win as his assistant and she couldn’t decide how she would celebrate. Although she couldn’t focus on celebrating because every time she did, images of him flashed in her mind. Images of him in the gym, images of him staring down at his sketches for the new buildings, images of him fucking her-

“Did you get it to them on time?” He asked, interrupting her thoughts. She silently thanked him before responding.

“Uh yes sir.” She replied. She turned the laptop toward him so he could see for himself. “Everything is confirmed, the deal is done!” She said looking up at him. Her eyes were so soft and pleading, almost childlike. It’s like she wanted to impress him badly. She wanted to finally get the approval she had been working for these past 3 months.

“Good job.” He said dryly.

She frowned a bit, somewhat in confusion and frustration. What was with this guy? She had just helped him secure one of the biggest deals for his firm and all he could say was “Good job”. She turned the laptop back toward her and went back to doing her daily emailing.

As she confirmed meetings and lunches for him she tried to sneak a peek at him but he was already staring at her. She didn’t know what this meant but she was afraid she’d be in the unemployment line real soon. He didn’t say anything, he just stared at her. When the silence went on for longer than she expected her mind went into overdrive. She couldn’t be getting fired, they had just closed a 7 figure deal, but she did overstep a boundary by going into his gym without his permission. But it was an emergency, hell it was for his business. He couldn’t have been that much of an asshole.

”Look Mr. Pierre, I-I’m sorry about coming into the g-gym without your permission. I just d-didnt want to mess up y-your b-big-“ She struggled to get out before he interrupted her.

”Breathe.” He suggested.

She stared down at her hands as she took a few deep breaths before mustering up the courage to meet his stern gaze again.

“You’re not in trouble.” He said, calming her mind first and her body second. He studied her as he watched her chest rise up and down slowly. Her jaw became unclenched and her shoulders more relaxed.

He looked down at his watch to see the time was nearly 11p.m., it was too late to send her on her way. He had enough bedrooms in this house, she could just pick one to rest for the night and be on her way in the morning.

“I don’t want you driving back home so late tonight.” He spoke.

“Oh, I’ll be fine. It’s no prob-“

”That’s an order.” He interrupted. “I wouldn’t be a man if I let you leave so late, I know you have a far drive to make.”

She nodded, refusing to look him in the eye.

“You know your way around the house, you can stay in a guest suite tonight.” He said before leaving the kitchen. “Great job by the way.”

She looked up at him in surprise.

“You’ll be around for a while so get comfortable.” He finished, leaving her in the kitchen alone.

Once she heard his footsteps become silent, indicating that he was no longer within ears reach, she jumped up in celebration. That is exactly what she wanted to hear.

”Yes!” She yelled, covering her mouth. She giggled to herself as she grabbed her laptop off of the island and made her way up to one of the guest suites.

After placing her things in the chair that sat near the window, she unbuttoned her dress shirt and kicked off her heels. She chose to stay in the guest suite on the far west wing of the house, it was in the opposite wing from his bedroom. She walked into the large bathroom that was attached to the suite and turned on the lights. She looked over to see a walk in shower and a large garden tub. She had chosen to take a shower instead, she was already a guest in his house, the last thing she needed to do was spend hours in his bathtub.

She turned on the faucet, pulling it all the way left to get the water as hot as possible. That was the only way she’d take showers. Closing the shower door, she walked over to the mirror to continue removing her clothes while the water warmed to her liking. She got down to her bra and panties, a matching set, as she admired her reflection. When she unbuttoned her bra, causing her natural 34 C’s to drop a bit, the images began to flash in her mind. Only this time she had imagined Mr. Pierre in the bathroom with her, staring at her with those icy blue eyes that sent chills down her spine.

This made her pussy tingle. The thought of her tall, broad shouldered, smooth skin, no nonsense boss staring at her with pure hunger and desire. Him touching all over her body, feeling her breasts in his big hands, feeling his soft lips on her neck. Her fantasies were making her wet but it was fine because she would hop right in the shower to wash her lustful thoughts away.

She stepped out of her panties and into the shower, letting the hot water run down her body. Her hands ran up and down her figure as she tried hard to stop the fantasies of her boss joining her in the shower. She had pictured what he’d look like naked a few times, she had already gotten half of the picture today when she saw him shirtless. His toned arms, each one covered in a single tattoo, his chiseled chest, his brown nipples, his defined abs and that V cut that she had stared down at while he reviewed the blueprints. She knew that V cut led to a heavy dick, carved with thick veins and a head that would feel soft against her lips.

She was so deep in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized that her hands had been playing in her pussy. Her middle finger and ring finger toyed with her clit as her hands began to wrinkle from the wetness her boss had brought her and he didn’t even know. As she played with her pussy she imagined his tongue there.

“Fuck.” She had let out a moan, sure that she wouldn’t be heard. She was positive that the water would drown out her cries.

“You feel so good in my pussy Mr. Pierre.” She said aloud, not worried about being heard by him or the house keepers. “Eat this pussy Daddy.”

She moaned and groaned, begging and pleading for her boss to make her cum until she came all over his face in her mind, her fingers in reality. After a few breaths she opened her eyes to realize where she was and that she needed to get clean so she could get some sleep.

A few minutes passed and the water was turned off. She stepped out of the shower, one foot at a time before realizing she had no towel to dry off with. She searched through the drawers in the sink vanity and found nothing but toothbrushes and toothpaste. Not a towel in sight.

“Shit.” She said to herself. She needed to dry off but stepping outside of this bathroom uncovered was too much of a risk for her. She didn’t even want to think of being caught by the house keepers let alone her boss. She sat thinking for a few minutes, contemplating on whether or not she should just air dry and slip on the pajama sets he had stored in the nightstand next to the bed. She hated air drying in the bathroom though, it was so wet and humid, she needed to get out of there.

Once she remembered his beautiful mansion came with intercoms in each room she figured she'd just politely ask for some towels to be left outside of the door. Finally satisfied with her plan, she headed for the bathroom door. When she swung the door open her heart sank as she met his blue eyes first. Her boss, Mr. Pierre stood on the other side of the door staring down at her.

Panic was written all over her face as she remembered she had just orgasmed to the thought of him eating her. She had called out his name and many other things, confident that she wouldn’t be heard. But by the look on his face, she knew he had heard everything.

“I remembered the housekeepers didn’t stock this bathroom with towels, so I thought I’d bring you some.” He started, still staring down at her with those beautiful eyes, that seem to change to a light hazel color now. He walked into the bathroom causing her to step back until her back hit the wall near the shower.

“Did you need me for something?” He smirked, towering over her. Her 5’4 frame didn’t stand a chance under his 6’3 build.

She stood there speechless, she didn’t know what to say. She was too embarrassed to speak. No matter how hard he stared at her, she refused to meet his eyes. So she stood staring at his chest, his muscular and defined chest.

“I- um, I- was j-“ She struggled, this time understandably.

He bent down, burying his face into her neck, sucking on her vanilla scented skin. She was still so caught off guard, not coming to terms with the fact that her fantasies were coming true in real time. He dropped the towels and reached down to grab her legs, wrapping them around his waist. He sucked and licked on her neck, planting kisses all over her.

“Sir, I-I didn’t m-mean to-“ She stuttered, struggling to breathe correctly or at all.

“Don’t be nervous now.” He mumbled, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. “This what you wanted right?” He pulled her off of the wall and sat her on the bathroom sink.

“Um…” She managed.

“Right?” He asked, looking into her eyes, demanding a response.

She looked up at him before taking a deep breath and responding “Yes.”

“Yes what?” He asked, still staring intensely at her.

“Yes sir.” She breathed.

He smirked. He enjoyed having women at his mercy but this woman was different. He didn’t expect her to be pleasuring herself to the thought of him. She appeared innocent and sweet but that was clearly a front. She craved him just as much as he craved her.

He looked down at her freshly waxed pussy still glistening as a result of her own pleasures. He licked his lips as he admired the sight of her body in front of him. He didn’t know where to start, he just knew he didn’t want to go wrong with this masterpiece that sat waiting to be devoured by him.

She looked down at his sweatpants and saw his print. She wanted so badly to find out what he felt like, what he tasted like, how his dick would feel hitting the back of her throat. Without hesitation she stood from the sink and dropped to her knees. She ran her fingers around his waist before pulling his pants down, coming face to face with his dick. It was exactly how she imagined, thick, brown and beautiful. She grabbed his length with her hand, noticing the precum that sat right at the head.

She licked the sweet cum off of him, locking eyes with her boss as she did so. He was taken aback at the sight of his once nervous and jittery assistant who was now bold and fearless. He was used to being the dominant in the situation, he would have his women responding to his touch and the feeling of his tongue in their pussy. But this night was a total 180, he found himself being the subject of a woman who had dreamed of devouring him months ago.

She licked the entirety of his dick before taking him into her mouth, wrapping her lips around his hardness. She jerked her neck back and forth, her tongue rubbing against the bottom of his dick so that he could feel only the wetness and warmth of her mouth. She sucked and slurped, moaning out of pure satisfaction and enjoyment. She watched as his face frowned in pure bliss. He had placed his hands on her head to help guide her but she didn’t need any guidance. She could tell by the look on his face he wanted something more, but he was in too much ecstasy to bring himself to say it.

“Fuck my face.” She said, rubbing the head of his penis against her full lips that were covered in spit. She liked the fact that she was watching her super tough super masculine boss fold at her touch, it was all because of her.

He tightened the grip on her head and forced himself into her mouth touching the back of her throat. She relaxed the muscles in her neck so that he could get better access, all the access he hoped for. He fucked her face, pumping in and out of her mouth pausing when he got all of himself into her. This caused her to gag slightly, building more saliva in her mouth which would make for an even better experience. He thrusted his hips back and forth, pausing between strokes to trigger her gag reflex. He loved the sound of her struggling to take all of him in. The more she gagged, the more tears built in her eyes. Before she knew it, the tears had fallen and the spit that built in her throat and ran down her neck onto her breasts.

This sight caused him to clench his jaw reluctantly. His assistant who he perceived as innocent had turned into a slut all because of him. The way she moaned as if she was the one being pleasured, the way her eyes would roll into her head and then focused back into his, hedidn’t want to cum just yet but the way she locked eyes with while he fucked her pretty face sent him over the edge. How she sat and took in every inch of him without tapping out made him let out a loud groan before sending his nut down her throat.

”Fuuuuuck!” He groaned, holding her head in place as he rode out his orgasm. She sat still as he struggled to catch his breath, her eyes still locked onto his. He pulled out of her and took a few breaths, still coming down from his climax. She swallowed every single drop of him.

“Stand up.” He demanded, his voice deep and impatient.

She stood with a slight smirk on her face, proud of her performance. In a swift motion she spun around facing the mirror as he kicked her legs open and slightly bent her over the sink. His hand was still wrapped tightly around her curls so this sudden change in position was all his doing. He pressed himself into her ass while he eyed her through the mirror. He could see that this had caught her off guard, the ball was now back in his court. He stared down at her ass, biting his lip in anticipation.

“Don't get nervous now.” She said, eyeing him through the mirror, a small smirk on her face again.

Without warning he pushed himself into her slowly until all of him was inside of her, every single inch. She let out a small wince from pain from the size of his dick. It had been a while since she’d had any, let alone one this size. With a hand full of curls in his left hand, he pulled her head back wrapping the other around her throat as he began to fuck her from behind. The sound of her ass slapping against him and the wetness from her pussy sent her into another realm. It was so good, better than she’d imagined.

He stroked her pussy, barely tightening the grip he had on her lower jaw. He pulled in and out of her, slamming himself into her with a quick thrust and then returning back to his steady pace. As he began to roll his hips into her, he saw her face twist in complete pleasure.

”Is this how you wanted it?” He said into her ear.

“Mhmm.” She replied, still so caught up in the pleasure she was getting from him.

“Use your words.” He said, tightening the hold he had on her hair.

“Yes sir.” She quickly responded.

“Good girl.” He spoke into her ear.

She felt him moving in and out of her, his dick hitting every spot with every stroke. She could feel the head of his dick rub against her spot over and over again. It was only a matter of time before she would cum all over him like she had imagined for months. The more he spoke into her ear, the crazier he was driving her. He knew exactly what to say and how to say it. His deep and calm tone right in her ear sent sensations to her clit, it was so swollen that it damn near stung from pleasure.

“You gone cum on this dick for me?” He asked, tightened the grip he had around her neck.

“Yes!” That was all she could manage at the moment.

“Cum on this dick baby.” He said into her ear, still hitting that spot that made her eyebrows wrinkle in pleasure.

She could feel her stomach tightening and pussy began to contract around him, she was cumming.

“Yes daddy, I’m cummin’” She yelled out in pleasure. He continued stroking her, feeling her creamy goodness run down his dick and onto his balls. He wanted all of her, he wouldn’t leave her until she was completely undone. He slowed his pace giving her time to come down from her orgasm before he made her cum again.

After a few long and slow strokes, he gradually picked up his pace aiming for another climax from her.

“Oh fuck yes!” She cried out. She had never cum multiple times in one day. For her orgasms to be back to back like this, there was no way she would ever meet anyone else who would top him.

”Give me that shit.” He spat, his lips brushing her earlobe. He needed his demands to send blood rushing right to her pussy.

”Yes!” She screamed, cumming all over him once again. Her clit jumped as her pussy throbbed naturally after her second orgasm. Even after that powerful flood that ran down her legs, he still hadn’t stopped stroking.

“I can’t.” She said, pleading for him to let her come down.

“Yes you can.” He said, now picking up the pace. His strokes became harder and faster, this time it was his turn to become undone and he wasn’t stopping until he did so. He fucked her like he was running a marathon and he could see the finish line a few feet away.

“Please.” She begged. Her hearing was starting to fade and breathing was becoming harder and harder by the second. On one hand she wanted a break, she needed a break from all of this back to back pleasure. But for some reason she didn’t want him to stop, she could feel his dick throb in her pussy. She knew he was about to cum and she wanted to have the last laugh.

“I’m almost there baby.” He said, his eyes closed as he felt the nut build in his lower abdomen. She watched in amazement as his face turned in pleasure. She took this opportunity to watch him fold yet again.

“Cum in my pussy daddy.” She moaned.

That was it. He leaned forward, placing his lips on her neck, closing his eyes even tighter than before. He grinded deeply into her until he felt his muscles in his stomach flex.

”Fuck!” He groaned into her neck as he shot his cum deep into her pussy. He stroked forcefully until he felt all of himself empty inside of her, before stopping and letting go of her hair.

There they rested against the bathroom counter struggling to catch their breath, holding onto each other for dear life. After a few minutes they both opened their eyes and stared at each other through the mirror.

“Sleep in my room tonight.” He began. “Or you’re fired.” He finished, pulling himself out of her and leaving the room.

She felt her knees buckle as she struggled to keep herself upright.

”I love my job.” She said to herself.

(I hope y’all liked it 😭 excuse any mistakes)

🩵

[mindmelter]

A Body Stealer Tale: Hijacked Call

My boyfriend and I were strolling through a quiet part of the city when we spotted this hot guy a few steps ahead of us. Tall, dark-haired, clearly fit—the type that turns heads. He was chatting on his phone, his deep voice echoed in the silent and empty street.

I noticed my boyfriend started to glance around, sizing up the surroundings. The street was deserted, as usual for this part of town. He turned to me with that mischievous grin I knew too well—the one that meant he was up to something. Before I could ask what he was planning, he ran toward the guy in front of us.

The man was still engrossed in his call, his voice dropping to a low, affectionate rumble. "I miss you too, babe. Tell my sweet girls Daddy will bring them a surprise when I get home... Yes, I know-AAARRGHH!"

His words cut off abruptly with a strangled groan. The phone slipped from his hand and clattered to the sidewalk. My boyfriend was already halfway into him, his form dissolving like smoke, merging with the man's body. Watching him use his power was always a sight that sent a chill down my spine, like watching reality bend for just a moment.

In seconds, my boyfriend disappeared completely, and his clothes fell to the ground on top of his empty shoes.

The man staggered, his eyes going wide, pupils dilating as my boyfriend took control. His hands flexed, then relaxed, as if getting used to this new skin. A few deep breaths later, the confusion cleared from his face, replaced by a smirk I knew all too well. It was my boyfriend now looking back at me, wearing the man's flesh like a new suit.

"Daddy, huh?" he said in the man's deep voice, testing it out, letting the word roll off his tongue with a new meaning entirely. "I think I can work with that." He picked up his phone off the ground and put it back on his ear, he then pulled down his pants, showing me the bulge in his black underwear.

He winked at me as he started talking again on the phone, only this time, his voice was no longer sweet and caring.

"Shut up, you dumb bitch! I'm so fucking tired of your voice... yeah, you heard that right! I don't want anything to do with you anymore, it's over for us! you hear me? Over!... Oh I'm perfectly fine! I've never been better!"

I walked towards him with a smirk and caressed his bulge, this man surely already had a present inside his underwear, I thought. I looked around—the area was clear—so I kneeled in front of him, pulled down his underwear, and took his cock into my mouth as my boyfriend dealt with this man's wife.

"You can stay with those little brats, I don't fucking care. I meet someone much better than you. He knows how to suck my cock like no other... Yeah, that's right, It's a HE, and in fact, he's giving me a blowjob right—" He stopped talking to look at his phone, then he looked down at me with a grin. "She hung up," he said, bursting out laughing.

He roughly grabbed both sides of my head and started facefucking me, just the way my boyfriend knows I like it. He moaned out loud, without worrying if anyone could hear him.

While I was deep-throating his new big delicious cock, we noticed an old man walking past us, he looked at us with disgust on his face, and we saw him grabbing his phone before turning around the corner.

My boyfriend pushed me away and pulled his pants up.

"C'mon, let's get to somewhere more private. I would hate to have to use my gift to take over a cop, this body is too good to be wasted," He said, buckling up his belt.

A downside of my boyfriend's powers was that once he stepped out of the body he was in, he couldn't go back to it because as soon as he was out, the body would deflate to an empty, hollow bodysuit.

Sure, it was fun to wear them later, but it was not the same thing as my boyfriend possessing their memories, controlling their tongue, having their cells...

I stood up and we shared a quick kiss; he tasted of coffee and mint. I followed him to an expensive car parked nearby, he opened the door for me to get in, like a true gentleman.

But once we were inside, he wasn't so gentle; he pulled down his pants, freeing his throbbing cock. "Go on, suck on this bad boy as I drive us to his hotel."

[touyasdoll]

Vulnerability

pairing: ex!Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: mildly angsty bc y'all broke up before, rough sex kinda, sex with feelings, y’all broke up and he’s back (surprise, surprise), unprotected sex, creampie, possessive gojo

notes: once Satoru is in love, he is in wholeheartedly. you are never getting rid of him <3

“Say it again, baby,” Satoru drawls, drunk in the pleasure that you’re providing as you glide up and down on his impressive length.

“I love you,” you whisper, just like old times as your hands rest on either side of his neck, keeping his ice blue gaze fixed on your face.

A lazy smile spreads across his handsome face as he guides your hips, his long fingers tightening around your flesh.

“I missed that. Missed you,” he whispers back, words that you’d never thought you’d hear. Not from this man.

It’s been months since he walked out that door. Since you told him to get the fuck out of your life and never come back. He was petrified of commitment and that wasn’t a secret to anyone who knew of your relationship well enough.

“I love you,” you say again, earning you a groan from a man beneath you.

“I love you too, gorgeous,” he replies, nearly stopping your steady rhythm, but the feel of his glorious cock keeps you going.

“Say it again,” you echo his words, desperate to hear those words after months of his denying you of the pleasure.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you, baby,” he breathes out. “I fucking mean it too,” he growls quietly.

His hands nearly bruise your hips, fingertips pressing into your skin when he starts holding you as tight as he wish he would have before. When he was too proud and too scared to just utter the words that roll off his tongue so easily now.

“I need you. I fucked up and I know it,” he pants, easily flipping the two of you over so that he lumbers over you.

He props himself up on one hand and catches your jaw in the other, using a firm but gentle grip to keep your half lidded eyes fixed on him as he keeps driving into you.

“You’re never gonna get rid of me, baby. I can’t imagine a life without you and I won’t. I won’t fucking do it,” he snarls, the sound a delicious noise reverberating between your two sweat slicked bodies.

“Satoru,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I mean it. Your pussy feels fucking amazing choking my cock, but that isn’t why I’m saying this,” he promises, never missing a beat as his impressive length pummels your poor, abused pussy.

“Satoru!” You cry, hand wrapping around his wrist, your hand so small in comparison to his.

“That’s it. Keep crying for me. Keep saying my fucking name. You will only ever say my name when you feel this good. Do you understand me?”

You nod, staring up at him, fighting the need to screw your eyes shut and the pressure in the depths of your core threatens to snap and ignite your entire body on fire.

“Good,” he grits out, teeth clenched as he doubles down, railing his rock hard cock into you, rushing you towards your finish.

All you can do is hold the fuck on as he sends you flying, soaring up into the heavens as you howl his name. Only his name. The only one you ever wanted to leave your lips as you enter complete and total, all encompassing bliss.

“Fuck,” he sighs, a shiver rocking his body as every muscle in his imposing form tenses and he breaks with you.

He grunts, his body flexing right as something in him snaps and he continues bullying his dick into your pulsing walls. They hug him so tight he feels like he might black out.

For a moment, he swears he does. His hips cast forward on their own, forcing him impossibly deeper as his tip knocks against the deepest part of you, spilling his seed inside to claim you once and forever as his and his alone.

Both of you are lost in a haze, but nothing has ever been more clear to the man panting in your ear. He needs you. He cannot live without you and he’s only sorry that it took him so long to admit it.

That’s why he showed up at your door tonight. Begging for you to just let him in and hear him out. That’s how you ended up right here, desperately trying to suck air into your lungs while your nerves scream and sing in response to every little touch that he offers your overstimulated form.

“I love you,” he reaffirms, the words a soft whisper against your collarbone as he trails his lips across them.

“I love you too,” you whisper, still in disbelief that you’re able to add the little ‘too’ on the end of that sentence.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t say it before, but I’ve always felt it. I’ve always needed you,” he swears, collapsing beside you to bundle you into his arms.

His gentle lips pepper kisses across your scalp, your forehead, and your temple, slowly trialing across your face.

“I missed you. I mean that too, baby,” he says with more conviction than you’ve ever heard leave his lips, his voice shaking with emotion. “I will never leave you doubting that again. I swear. I fucking swear it.”

You’ve never seen him like this. Never heard his voice with anything other than pure, radiating confidence imbued within it. Now, his voice quakes. His tone is full of tremors and uncertainty, something that is foreign to the one who has always known himself as the strongest. Weakness had no place in his words.

But with you, he is weak and he knows it. He has always known it and just never spoken the words aloud, but if it means keeping you. Having you, he will gladly break down those walls to keep you within them. He will build them back up to keep you here with him forever. Where you belong.

“I love you. I was scared and I can say that now. I was too petrified then. Afraid that I’d lose you somehow, but I went and did that anyway and I would do anything not to do that again,” he whispers, his nose nudging against your cheek.

“I’m yours, baby,” you whisper back. “I have always been yours for the taking. I’m not going anywhere.”

Relief washes over him as he holds you tighter, his spindly fingers dragging across your spine.

“I won’t let you,” he vows, holding you close enough that you believe he’s trying to mold you directly into his body. Into his ribs.

Straight into his heart, which you have no doubts that you now know belongs solely to you.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a like, comment, or reblog and they are all greatly appreciated <3

[aangelinakii]

NATURALLY.

— at times like this, it comes so naturally.

summary : jason's love language is words of affirmation, which you struggle with, so it means a whole lot more when you use them.

note : this was also requested a while ago, the original request is in a screenshot right at the bottom of the post :) thank you for requesting and sorry it took so long to complete !!

it was okay that jason struggled with physical affection, and it was okay that you struggled with words of affirmation.

sure, on paper it may not be exactly comptable, but you made it work. you liked each other, so you made that extra effort. and you worked well together, no matter the missed hugs or unspoken words.

the sun was out, shining down on gotham despite being halfway into september (a travesty!) but jason had gone out of his way to pick you up and take you out.

he'd recently cleaned the inside of his car, the scent of his amber cologne lingering on the seats, despite the outside still a little shabby. for the son of a billionaire, he sure lived up to his roots.

during summer months, you enjoyed sharing an ice cream in the park, or at a parlour, trying all the flavours and deciding which were best or worst. today, jason pulled up outside the ice cream shop you'd both deemed the best.

your boyfriend must have been feeling generous today, for he paid for a triple-scoop, all for yourself, and settled with a single tub of cookies and cream. pinky linked with yours, he held the door open as you led, and followed as your feet passed his parked car.

"thank you, hun," you hummed mid-lick, and jason pressed a kiss to the side of your head. a touch of affirmation, a dash of physical affection. see? you two work quite well, despite your differences.

cheeks warm but stomach cold, jason had opted for offering his bicep to you, so he could manoeuvre his tiny plastic spoon and delicious cookies and cream.

"so, how's your day been?" he asked after a few moments of comfortable silence, glancing over at you as he dipped the spoon beyond his lips.

swallowing down the top flavour on your cone, you gave a nod, lips curling into a smile. "yeah, i got a day off, so i've been relaxing. doing nothing, really, until you called."

his pale eyes met yours, cookies and cream dotted along the corner of his mouth as it mimicked your own movements.

"which i'm glad you did, by the way," you added, redirecting your path briefly to nudge into him slightly. "it's such a beautiful day, i'm glad you managed to get me out."

trying to keep the bashful blush from his cheeks (which he'd blame on sunburn somehow, if you asked), the soft hum of a laugh came from his throat. "that's my job." and he flexed the muscle in his arm slightly in an effort to squeeze against your hand lovingly.

smiling under the sun, you turned back to the path ahead, concrete warm, leaves on trees lush.

"you know how much i appreciate you, right?" you piped up, glancing back over at the man beside you, tongue flicking out from behind your lips to lick away some stray ice cream.

at first, jason couldn't respond, the ice cream in his belly melting in an oozing pool of adoration and happiness; the heat of the sun had nothing on him. his eyes stayed on the concrete below his feet, staring at the imperfect cracks along the sidewalk; broken, yet holding together, still.

much like the bones in his body, the bruises against his skin, healing after spending a night round yours, or after cooking you a warm dinner — or after walking beneath the sun, with an ice cream each, basking in the heat and presence of one another.

"i love you."

the words came from his lips in a chuckle, from behind lips tugged up to reveal teeth. despite the pot of half-eaten ice cream in his hand, it quickly became ignored, as the arm he had offered to you moved to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side.

it was okay that jason struggled with physical affection, and it was okay that you struggled with words of affirmation.

but, at times like this, it came so naturally.

[fastboatsmojito]

just saw ur scott reblog gRAAAHH WOOF WOOF anyway !!! and it inspired me to request something <3 (love ur writing btw) pls write something with scott and how big he is 😣 a lil suggestive if u know what i mean 🙈

OHH YOU GET IT SO HARD + thank you so much !! 🫶🏼🫶🏼 whenever someone says they like my writing i get so giddy, it’s just the sweetest 😞

Anyways!!! Absolutely, thank you for fueling my obsession with this large man 💓

Just some scattered Scott x reader thoughts really

|CW; somewhat suggestive, he calls you girl once ☝🏼 incredibly obvious size kink from both parties whoops, he’s pretty canon-accurately an asshole, + suggested dom/sub relationship stuff??? Kinda??? Like not really but a little bit??? idk how else to tag that lmao. Obviously there’s a size difference here but it’s not specific, you could really just be shorter than him and it’d work just the same mwah <33

The first time you really notice is a total accident, you got caught up in the sight of the storm in front of you, not even given time to react to his stern “get in.” before he’s picking you up and putting you back in the car.

“What the hell was that?” He snapped, figuratively and literally as you blankly stare at him, still focused on how effortlessly he carried you back to the car.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know, it was just so close-“

“Yeah, no shit it was close. You could’ve gotten yourself killed. You have to pay more attention than that.”

You just nodded, staring at the way his hands flexed as he drove away, suddenly aware of the drastic contrast between the two of you. He picked you up like it was nothing, which was nothing considering the size of him, you just hadn’t thought about it in that way before.

——

He doesn’t think anything of it for a while, chalking your lingering glances up to his over-analytical mind, until you unintentionally piss him off with it.

“Is this going to be a problem for you?” He was right in your face, arms crossed over his chest as he bitterly chewed his gum, working himself up even more when you couldn’t give him a direct answer.

“If you can’t do your job ‘cause you’re too busy staring at me or whatever the fuck, I’ll have to move you to Javi’s team. Got it?” He barked, shaking his head as he stormed off.

As soon as he realizes why you’ve been staring at him, it’s over.

You were at the diner with the rest of the team, smiling as you walked to the table, bumping into some hard, tall, figure in front of you on the way.

He turned to steady you, big hands landing on your waist. “You ever try paying attention to what you’re doing? It’s pretty helpful.” He was a dick, sure. But you still found yourself focusing more on the feeling of his hands and the way your face warmed up at his assertive tone.

“You ever try not being an asshole?” You rolled your eyes at him before you walked away, but he didn’t miss the pause, or the way your breath picked up at his words. He put it together then, having been so caught up in work he didn’t realize just how tolerable you were getting, his hands constantly drifting towards you absentmindedly whenever you were close enough.

——

He usually went to work to get his job done and go home which was made clear, but after a while he got carried away. Comfortable enough being around you to end up reluctantly carrying you out of the car one night.

He tried to wake you up, met with sleepy grunts and you repositioning yourself before falling back to sleep.

He wanted to just leave you in the car, give you a blanket or ‘whatever’ but it was too cold, and you were in some small town he didn’t know well enough. He rolled his eyes as he took you out, large, rough hands a nice juxtaposition to the way he gently lifted you up.

He had to bring you to his room, not sure of where your room key was and not interested in dealing with your mood if he woke you back up.

He laid you down on the bed, throwing the blanket over you before taking off his work shirt and getting ready to begrudgingly sleep on the couch in his own room.

He went to turn off the lights, groaning when he saw you sit up, whining and stretching your arms.

“You know your necks gonna hurt if you sleep on that couch, Scotty. C’mere.” You sleepily muttered, patting the bed next to you.

He knew it was a bad idea, not missing the new nickname as he put his face in his hands, too exhausted to argue and too self-aware to disregard the attitude he’d have if he woke up to you in his bed and a sore neck.

“Jesus Christ. Alright, fine. One time. Don’t make it weird.” He gruffed as he turned the light off before slipping into bed next to you.

You were facing him as he faced the ceiling, his arms crossed firmly along his chest like some grumpy old man, still awake and motionless when you cuddled into him in your sleep.

——

After that he’s basically torturing you until you say it out loud. Putting his hands on your waist all casual to move past you, refusing to acknowledge any of it first.

Both of his hands were on your shoulders as he crouched down to be eye level with you, losing his patience after he caught you staring at his arms when he was trying to talk to you.

“If you want something, you’ll have to use your words like a big girl and ask for it. All this pouty, wordless shit won’t work with me. I need you to listen to me when I talk to you.” He spat condescendingly, minty gum popping in your ears. He grabbed your chin between his thumb and pointer when you shook your head.

“No? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what you want. I’m not about to guess.” You squeezed your eyes shut to get away from his intense stare.

“I don’t want to say it here.” You barely whispered, opening your eyes when he sighed.

“Damn it.” He breathed before pausing, standing up tall and scanning over the parking lot you were in.

“Alright, come on.” He said bluntly before grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Scott-“ You pouted as he swept you back to his motel room.

“Just shut up and let me help you out for once, yeah?”

-

I need him so bad

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Cooper Adams x Reader • Includes themes of violence, murder, blood is mentioned often, period sex, infidelity, oral sex (m&f receiving) Reader and Cooper are both certified freaks seven days a week

You’d suspected for awhile.

You’d wondered even longer.

The question you’d wanted to ask Cooper had sat silent on your tongue so long, you’d have sworn you could taste it by now.

Even still, no amount of wondering could have prepared you for this moment: standing face to blood-streaked face with the man you loved, the question on your tongue quietly dying as it no longer needed answering-

Cooper Adams, your boyfriend, was The Butcher…

He stood still, lingering in the doorway, the one at the back of the house. Cooper had brought you here a couple of times, to smoke and fuck; and each time, he’d always brought you through that door, the one less likely to draw attention from neighbors. The house was isolated, but not completely. With Cooper being a married man, you’d understood his concerns and hadn’t objected to being brought in through the back of the house. Now however, it was obvious that he used the back door to conceal a much darker secret than his infidelity.

His left eye twitched, lips forced into a placating smile that chilled you to your core. “(Y/N)?” Cooper began, his voice wavering. “What are you doing here?” You swallowed as cracks in Cooper’s fake smile began to reveal themselves. Heavy rain pelted the ground behind him, lightning briefly illuminating his silhouette, tall and intimidating. He tightened his grip on the duffel bag slung over his shoulder; the sudden movement made you flinch, which Cooper found amusing.

Blood caked his jeans and the plaid flannel button-down he wore. His hair was tossed to the sides of his face, except for a few strands that seemed to be matted against his forehead with sweat. Cooper’s jaw was tight, the muscles in his neck flexing as he chewed the inside of his mouth, thinking. He’d have to get rid of you now, and that upset him. Cooper had enjoyed you, and not just fucking you. He’d grown fond of your dark sense of humor and the way both your mind and his seemed to play well with each other.

If he was being totally honest with himself, Cooper could even admit that he loved you. He’d confided in you, shared secrets of his past, his traumatic upbringing, the way he’d never been accepted by his mother or anyone else for that matter, until meeting his wife. And later, meeting you.

Your histories and minds were similar, in so many ways. Unfortunately, you’d proven yourself too clever for your own good…too clever to keep alive.

Cooper sighed, his insincere smile returning. “This is going to hurt,” he said, nodding for emphasis. “I mean that, (Y/N).” He took a step toward you; you shifted backward. “And I’m not even talking about the pain,” he continued. “Not the kind you’ll feel…” Cooper removed something from the bag, his eyes fixed on yours. It took you a second to identify the knife in his hand; it was so caked with partially-dried blood, you could barely make out what it was.

“…I’m talking about the pain I’ll feel,” Cooper continued, bringing the soiled knife to rest against his chest. “Here…in my heart.” He kicked his heel against the door, closing it behind him with a loud thud. You jumped, recoiling at the sound. Cooper held his hands tensed at his sides, the knife tucked under his right thumb. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, taking another step closer. You didn’t back away this time; your mind was racing for a solution, for a way to make Cooper understand that killing you wasn’t necessary.

“Then don’t,” you told him, trying to sound brave. You hoped he couldn’t see you trembling, couldn’t hear the plea in your next words even as you tried to suppress it: “Don’t kill me, Cooper…”

His expression was bittersweet, a resigned sigh leaving his chest. “They all say that,” Cooper told you, his voice eerily calm. “None of them want to die, (Y/N). They all beg me not to kill them.” He changed his voice to a slightly higher pitch, imitating his victims. “ ‘Don’t kill me, please…I’ll do anything, please…Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone’ .” Cooper’s free hand shot out and grabbed you by the wrist, tugging you into him, erasing the remaining space between you. “What makes you think you’re any different from the rest of the people I’ve murdered?” he glared down at you.

A tear rolled down your cheek, so hot it burned. “I’m different because I love you, Cooper,” you told him. And you meant it. His grip on your wrist softened immediately, the tension in his jaw easing. “I don’t care that you’re The Butcher, or whatever stupid nickname they’ve given you,” you continued. “I accept you. Cooper, I love you.” A few seconds passed in silence. “Have any of the others ever said that?”

Cooper’s eyebrows were drawn together in concentration as he wrestled with the conflicting messages inside him. One said to protect himself by ending your life. The second option was much more tempting for Cooper, to grant you the mercy of life, a privilege which he alone now held.

Cooper pressed his lips to the top of your head, his knife ghosting your cheek as he used the hand that held it to stroke your hair. His breath was heavy, his chest rumbling against your cheek as he spoke. “What am I going to do with you?” Cooper asked. It wasn’t a question at all, not really. You lifted your chin, eyes fixed on Cooper’s, tilting your head so the blade in his hand was deliberately primed against your throat. An offering up, not of surrender, but of submission. He’d seen his share of tears, heard more than enough screams to fill his ears a lifetime; but the way your resistance melted in front of him touched something in Cooper that hadn’t been touched in a long time, if ever. Faced with the darkest part of his soul, you still accepted him.

You placed a hand tentatively on Cooper’s forearm, where the sleeves of his shirt were rolled to his elbows. While his hands were clean from wearing gloves, Cooper’s forearms were spattered with blood, a viscous crimson syrup drying in the tufts of hair lining his skin. He repeated his question, a huskier, seductive tone making his meaning crystal clear: “…what am I going to do with you?”

Cooper released his grip on the knife. It fell to the floor with a clatter, as lightning lit up the room, thunder rumbling close by. He was bent forward slightly so your foreheads could touch, his eyes drifting closed as you smoothed your hands across his broad shoulders. Warm breath dusted your neck as Cooper’s kiss traveled down the slope of your shoulder, his big hands securing you in place at the small of your back. The energy between you was electric, buzzing like an alarm whose warning you refused to heed. You were in too deep, now. With Cooper, you always had been.

He began to work the buttons of his flannel undone, as you went down to your knees. You looked up at Cooper from between his feet, his heavy boots caked with mud and grass from the storm outside. Lightning struck very close to the house; the lights flickered as thunder bellowed from above. And then, the room went dark, moonlight alone providing any visual for the two of you.

Cooper was unaffected by the loss of electricity. He folded his shirt and set it aside, hands moving to undo his belt and jeans. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness quickly; you were able to make out the image of Cooper, his hulking frame towering over yours, stray strands of hair fallen forward as he watched you at his feet. You were on your knees in front of The Butcher himself, and it felt…exhilarating. Rather than making a plea for your life, your tongue was gently pleading for his sex, padding thick and wet against the outline of Cooper’s erection.

He tugged his zipper down and freed his cock, the wet tip tapping against your lips in the darkness. You felt Cooper’s hand come to rest atop your head, his fingers knotting softly inside your hair, guiding you gently onto him. The only sounds in the room were Cooper’s shallow breaths and grunts, and the wet sucking sound of your throat closing around him. Cooper let you suck him a moment longer, before removing his cock from your mouth, breathily explaining “-the shower, baby-want to fuck you in the shower.” He felt around the floor for his duffel bag and retrieved a flashlight from inside it. Switching it on, Cooper smiled when he saw your streaked makeup in the light, knowing his cock had made a mess of it. He held the flashlight between his teeth and trotted upstairs with you, using the beam to light your way.

The bathroom in its entirety wasn’t that large but thankfully, the shower was. Cooper switched on the faucet and held his arm under the water stream to check the temperature, bits of dried blood re-wetting and dripping to the shower floor. You’d quickly discarded your own clothes and stepped inside, around the water stream till Cooper had adjusted it. He shed his pants and hastily folded them before tossing them onto the sink. He was in a hurry; he’d never wanted you this badly before.

The flashlight’s battery was almost dead, its last real bit of power used on the way upstairs. Now, you and Cooper were essentially in complete darkness again, except for the moonlight threading through the small bathroom window. Cooper had no trouble manipulating your body in the darkness. His right hand slipped immediately between your thighs, reaching around with his other arm and pulling your chest into his. Warm water cascaded down Cooper’s back and shoulders, dripping along his chest and between your breasts where your bodies were pressed together. His fingers rubbed rough circles over your clit, making your hips buck into the heel of his palm as you selfishly chased your climax. “That’s a good girl,” Cooper murmured in the darkness, his breath labored with arousal. “Gonna come for me just like this, yeah?” You whimpered a reply, but Cooper wasn’t satisfied. “Oh, you can do better than that, sweetheart,” he said. “Use your words. Tell me how you’re gonna come-.” He dipped his head forward, teeth catching the soft skin of your neck and biting just enough to make you squirm even more wildly on his hand. “Ungh-on-oh!” you squeaked, your hips trembling. “-On your h-hand, S-Sir!”

Cooper’s face was stoic but satisfied in the darkness; he was in his element, his happy place. He was in control. As you quivered and shook on his hand cupping your pussy, Cooper slid his other hand around your throat, briefly silencing your scramble of moans and whimpers. “WORDS, baby,” he gently reprimanded, his fingertips tapping against your pulse. “Can’t give you what you want till you ask for it-.”

Cooper slipped a finger between your lips, hooking around the smooth spot inside you, your spongy walls sucking his finger greedily. Your head fell backward, a string of desperate pleas tumbling from your mouth, interspersed with Cooper’s name. He let you come, giving you what you needed because you’d asked for it so nicely. You gushed all over Cooper’s hand and wrist, slick spilling between his fingers and onto the shower floor. He couldn’t see it in the darkness, and he didn’t need to; he could feel your blood on his fingers, knew the texture well and that your orgasm had surely painted the shower floor red at his feet.

He removed his finger from inside you, once you’d stopped squeezing it, and popped the slippery digit inside his mouth. A coppery, musky flavor sank warm on his tastebuds; Cooper exhaled gratefully through his nose, releasing his finger only after sucking every drop of you from it.

Lightning crackled above the house as Cooper lowered himself to his knees in front of you. You rested your hands on his shoulders, leaning into his sturdy frame as he sank his mouth between your legs. Cooper’s tongue found exactly what he’d hoped to find, what he craved…more of your sweet arousal tinged with the bitter tang of fresh blood.

You knew you were bleeding; your period had started that morning. You also knew that Cooper had a preference for fucking you on your period; you’d just never really thought much of it. The truth was, the blood aroused Cooper, reminded him of his other, secret life, and the power he held over others. Seeing himself covered in someone else’s blood, especially such intimate places like his cock, helped Cooper achieve the most powerful orgasms imaginable. It’s one of the reasons he’d grown to love you; your openness to trying literally anything sexually was liberating, allowing Cooper the chance to indulge his most taboo fantasies. One of those fantasies included eating you out on your period. He’d tried to bring other women around to the idea, but each of them had been repulsed by even the suggestion. You, however, had no reservations about letting Cooper use your body however he wanted, in whatever state it was in…

His tongue bathed your outer lips, licking them clean. Cooper massaged his cock in lazy strokes, in no hurry to come just yet. When the tip of his tongue pressed inside you, he grinned against your pussy at the way your soft, wet entrance trembled around him.

One of your hands was now on Cooper’s head, fingers locked in the strands of his hair. When he hoisted your leg over his left shoulder, you braced yourself against him, knowing he wouldn’t let you fall. Cooper held you steady as he nuzzled and lapped your essence, his eyes closed in a kind of reverent, trance-like high. It was the closest Cooper had ever come to a religious experience, drinking your most precious offering at the altar of your thighs, and for him, it was more than enough.

When he’d made you come twice more on his tongue, Cooper rose to stand, pressing red kisses to your belly and breasts that looked like lipstick marks. He reached for you in the darkness, his hands pulling your hips closer. You felt Cooper’s erection prodding between your thighs, and closed your hands around it. He hissed in a sharp breath as you grazed his tip; he was so sensitive, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Get on your knees,” Cooper panted urgently, his hand on your head pushing you downward. You sank to the shower floor, letting Cooper guide his cock into your mouth in the darkness. Lightning flashed outside, briefly revealing his blood-soaked lips parted in desperation, his eyes fixed on you at his feet while he used your mouth for his own satisfaction.

Cooper finished down your throat with a growl, his stomach tense as hot streams of cum pulsed over your tongue. You swallowed his seed with a contented grin, humming softly around Cooper’s shaft as you tugged the last drops of his cum between your lips.

The water continued to pour over your bodies as Cooper cradled you against his chest, rocking you gently. In that moment, he almost regretted his decision, almost thought of changing his mind. But there was no sense in getting sloppy after all these years, after so long a run of keeping his secret life secret.

Cooper glanced at the bathroom sink. A thin sliver of moonlight cast onto the knife you hadn’t noticed him bring upstairs along with the flashlight. He pressed his lips to your forehead one last time in a silent kiss goodbye, and reached toward the sink…

[4ttack-ur-heart]

Jean Hc’s: Mf Whipped

Pairing: Jean x gn! reader modern au!

Warnings: none

Summary: Just jean not wanting to admit he’s a big softie when it comes to you.

Genre: fluff.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but Jean is the biggest softie when it comes to loving you.

Jean will absolutely hold your hand in public, kiss you, open the door for you, but he will never let anyone find out how much he’ll do for you.

Fuck, you wanna do a face mask at midnight? He’ll clip his hair back and have you apply it on him. You want to slow dance with him after watching a romcom movie? He’s there with his phone blasting pretty music. You need to talk to him after a bad day? Jean will leave his friends to make sure you’re taken care of.

He’s a simp.

But he tries to hide it.

It’s so funny when you catch on.

One day, you both were sitting at the park, hidden away from public eyes. Flowers littered around you both and you absentmindedly starting to pluck a few.

Jeans head was laying in your lap, arms crossed behind his head. His view was gazing at the clouds slowly passing by along, eyes darting to your face every few minutes with a longing smile.

“What are you doing?” He asked now with his eyes closed. He could feel your fingertips brushing along his hair every few moments and an extra weight of something being placed on him.

“Nothing, don’t move.”

Jean chuckled at your words, obviously amused in what you were doing.

After placing the last flower in his hair, you quickly snapped a picture on your phone before he noticed something was up.

“Can I look now?”

“Ugh, fine but don’t sit up.” You told him and he grabbed his phone and switched on his camera. A small smile gracing his features when he saw various amounts of little white daisies and yellow dandelions placed in his hair.

“You look so pretty.” You gushed and leaned down to kiss him.

Jean blushed a little and you had to resist the urge to tease him. His usual ‘strong man’ barrier always broke when it was just you two alone.

Jean poked at daisies before plucking one out of his hair and gently brushing your hair back and placing it behind your ear.

“There, now we both look pretty.”

————

A few days later, you were on the couch scrolling through your Instagram feed, liking your friends’ posts and commenting on a few.

Your notifications were piling in since you just posted a few pictures of some selfies you took, but the last one was something special.

“(Y/n)!” Jeans voice called through the apartment.

“Yeah?” You innocently looked up at him when he entered the room.

“Care to explain this, doll?”

Jean shoved his phone in your face and you had to blink a few times to clearly see.

A smirk grew on your face when you realized he found your special picture on the post you shared. Staring at the platform more, you realized Eren had reposted your post with the picture of Jean you had taken at the park.

The picture showed him laying down on your lap, his eyes closed and his lips were slightly parted. The little flowers in his hair were vibrant against his ashen brown locks and a small pink dust coated his cheeks from the sun. You also didn’t forget to capture the way his muscles were showing through his shirt as his arms were flexed behind his head.

You could see Eren had minimized your post on his story, the phrase ‘mf whipped fr 🤝’ in blocky letter captioned underneath the post.

A sudden laugh caught Jean off guard as he watched your reaction. You knew Eren supported your relationship to the max, but that doesn’t mean he still can’t tease Jean about it.

Looking at his face, Jean was trying to hide his amused face under a glare.

“Relax, my little flower.” You cooed in a baby voice and gently squeezed his face under your palms. “I was just showing the world how much I love you…unless you’d rather me take it down?” Your eyebrow rose as you pouted. You knew he’d never ask you to that.

He let out a soft sigh and locked his phone. “No, don’t take it down. But you owe me! I need to post another video of me working out.”

You playfully rolled your eyes as Jeans thoughts were rambling out loud.

“I’ll invite Eren to work out with me, yeah. Then when we post the video, it’ll be obvious I’m bigger than him. God damn, I’m a genius.”

Standing up, you gave him a soft peck on the cheek before walking to the bathroom.

“I’m gonna do a face mask right now, babe.”

“Wait for me!”

[writingsbychlo]

WHAT HAPPENS IN VELARIS | azriel

summary; what happens in vegas? what happens in velaris. or, what happens the morning after two blind-in-love best friends get married while black-out drunk at a starfall party?

word count; 6733

notes; okay, I know starfall week is technically over, but the end of my week got real busy unexpectedly, so there are another few fics to come which we'll technically count. shhh.

You awoke with a startle, the familiar feeling of a shadow stroking over your cheek, but unfamiliar for the morning. Your eyes snapped open, sunlight pouring in and burning your eyes at the brightness, a hoarse groan leaving you. As you dragged yourself up in bed, darkness exploded around you, a dizzying kaleidoscope of shadows whipping around the room in a flurry that made your stomach twist. 

“Az, make it stop.” You groaned, and he stirred a little, groaning himself. At your words, though, whether you or him, the shadows began to calm, gracefully blocking out the light coming from the window and setting the room back into peaceful semi-darkness. Propping yourself up a little further, the man snoozing at your side huffed, wings tucking in a little tighter as he began to rise. 

“Why are you in my bed?” He groaned, twisting to grab a pillow and slam it over his face, and you rubbed at your eyes, before turning to face him properly. 

“You’re in my bed.” Scanning your eyes greedily along his bare arms, a thing you could later blame on this raging hangover if you were caught, your breath stuttered when you properly took him in. Not just bare arms, but bare chest. Rippling muscles peeking out from here the covers had slid down to his waist, swirling tattoos and dark chest hair. Your gaze roamed a little further, a squeak leaving your lips before your hand slammed over your eyes. Bare legs, one hanging out from the edge of the covers now, draped over the side of the bed like his wings. “You’re in my bed naked! Why are you in my bed naked?”

“I’m what?” That caught his attention, the man sitting up almost ramrod straight, back stiff and crumpled, lazy wings flaring a little too late to catch himself in the sudden movement. His hand flew out, both of you taking a loud gasp when that hand, sliding under the covers to grasp at anything, connecting with your thigh, gripping tightly for balance. A look of sickness crossed over his face as his head presumably spun, much like yours, in an equally awful hangover. “That’s your thigh. Naked thigh. Bare skin. Please tell me you have clothes on?”

His voice rose higher and higher in pitch, eyes fixed determinedly forwards as you glanced down at yourself, lifting the covers to check. “Yes…” His shoulders sagged a little, head daring to turn to you. “Sort of?”

“Sort of, what-” His jaw dropped, eyes visibly widening a little as he stared at your chest, and you smacked his shoulder. His cheeks reddened, but he didn’t look away. His voice was much raspier when he spoke next; “Cute bra.”

“Azriel!” You yanked the covers up, covering yourself from the neck down, and that blush spread to his ears as he finally met your gaze. He only shrugged. Reaching a hand under the covers himself towards his crotch, you were ready to chew his head off, before he was letting out a relieved sigh. 

“I have my boxers on still.”

“Oh, okay. So, we didn’t…” You waggled a finger between your bodies, and that blush that had started to fade gained colour on his cheeks again. You were sure your own face was just as warm. 

“No, I mean, surely we’d remember if we did… that.”

“It’d be pretty hard to forget,” You mumbled, hangover clouding your brain enough that you didn’t quite realise your eyes were roaming down his chest again until he cleared his throat, the muscles of his chest flexing a little as he did. You’d pretend until your dying breath that the sight didn’t make your mouth dry a little. 

It didn’t change the fact, however, that you could get used to waking up like this. Sure, you’d seen Azriel shirtless before, many times. Just like he’d seen you in bikinis in Summer, or scandalous dresses that arguably revealed more than this when you visited Hewn City, but that didn’t make it any less domestic. This wasn’t causal beachwear, or training, or a mission. This was home, this was comfy mornings when he should be smiling and kissing your forehead and asking what you want for breakfast. It all made your throat pinch a little.

Azriel’s lips were moving, he’d been saying something and you’d trailed off into daydreams. Snapping away the small smile from your lips, your attention moved to him. “What?”

“I said, maybe we should get dressed, and I can try to sneak out before anyone notices us in the halls.” Normally, this wouldn't be such a challenge, because you only had Nesta and Cassian to deal with, and they’d likely sleep in late today. The problem, was that following last night’s Starfall party, Rhys and Feyre were here with Nyx, Mor and Emerie, Elain and Lucien, Amren and Varian, and probably a couple of party-goers just now rousing themselves enough to leave. So many people to hide from, and your head pounded at the mere thought.

“Good idea.” You rubbed at your temples, even the sound of the sheets rustling around him was grating on your eardrums. But, you couldn't pass up the opportunity for just one more look at him, before he was gone, and would doubtless avoid you for days to come as the awkwardness settled. As he stood, he flexed his arms up and over his head, wings fluttering in a loose stretch, and your eyes widened. The garbled sound, something between a gasp and laugh, that fell from your lips was beyond your control. “Your wings!”

“What? What about them?” From the tone of your voice, he tried to look over his shoulder, unable to see what you were seeing. You discarded the blanket, crawling on your hands and knees over the mattress until you could kneel up behind him, one hand cupped over your mouth. The shock had effectively eliminated any remaining headache or sensitivity, his wide eyes finding yours. “What?”

“Flare them all the way out.” He did as told, the white paint smeared across the leathery membrane was clear words to you now, and you let out a shaky breath, tracing one letter with the pads of your fingers. 

“Please don’t do that unless you want me to embarrass myself further.” His words came on a groan as you touched the flesh, and you snatched your hand back, cheeks burning hot now as you realised what you’d done. Squeaking out an apology, you stood, guiding him over to the large mirror in your bedroom and turning him around so he could see what was written there.

Painted in thick capitals across his wings in white paste, were the stark words ‘just married’. A little chipped, somewhat faded as you were sure you’d find paint in your bed for weeks now, but there was no mistaking it. “Oh my God, Az…”

He looked down at his left hand, finding a beautiful silver band there, adorning his finger and catching in the rays of sun that occasionally flickered in from between his shadows at the window. As he glanced at you, the thought lingered in the back of your mind that you were still in only your underwear, as was he, and perhaps you should care about that, but the fact he was married was pinging around the inside of your head like a pebble.

“Who the hell did you marry?” You forced a laugh out, like everything in your body hadn't gone numb at the idea.

He only cleared his throat, picking up your left hand, and lifting it up to show off the matching silver band there. “You, apparently.”

You took a moment to admire the ring on your hand, the worry inside of you at having gotten married quashed momentarily by both relief and the sheer beauty of the gem on your finger. It was a blue colour, the same as his siphons, ridiculously cheesy but somehow perfect, and exactly what you’d have picked while drunk. Dotted around it were bands of silver leaves from metal, making it look like a flower nestled amongst nature, wrapped delicately around your finger. 

The silence dragged on between you both, each of you taking a second to come to terms with what had happened. 

“Okay, I mean, this is fine. It's fine, right?” His focus snapped back to you, lowering his hand, and furrowed brows raised a little. “This is totally casual. Let’s just act normal and get some breakfast. I bet nobody knows.”

“Okay, good call…” He cleared his throat, shoulders rolling back the way he did when calculating his next move in a sparring match against Cassian, or a battle of wits with Nesta. “We eat, get rid of these hangovers, and figure out a plan later.”

“Yes!” Your voice was a little too loud, both of you wincing. “Yes. Good.”

Darting around the room, you left him there, gathering some clothes from your drawers and tugging on a pair of simple leggings and a hoodie, feet shoved into a pair of comfortable slippers, the most causal outfit you could think of for the day after a Starfall rager. He only stood, idling in the room and alternating between staring at the ring on his finger, the words in the mirror, and you.

“What?”

“I… only have that. It’s a little walk-of-shame-y, don’t you think?” He pointed to his suit, still lying in a crumpled heap on the floor near your dress, and your cheeks flooded with heat once again. 

“Right… you should go get some clothes. Do your little shadow-hop thingy.” Your hands settled on your hips, waiting.

“I can’t Rhys hasn’t removed the protection wards from the party yet.” He shifted, face that of pure concentration, and the shadows in the room pulled just slightly towards him, but quickly sputtered back to their own devices. Stupid protection wards against snooping guests. “You’ll have to go get some.”

“You want me to sneak across the palace, into your bedroom, and rifle through your draws to find your clothes?” His scowl formed.

“Yes, I want you to go across the hall, into my bedroom, a place you’ve been before, and go into my first dresser, top two drawers, and bring me some fresh clothes.”

“Snarky.” You muttered, making your way across the room. He stuck his tongue out at you childishly, before turning his attention back to the mirror. On the other side of your bedroom door, as it clicked shut behind you, the air was colder. Refreshing, clearing your head. The smell of food was already wafting through the halls, chatter in every direction but none too close, if you were quick. 

Sneaking along, around two corners and one small set of stairs - across the hall, snarky bastard - you found his room. The door was mercifully unlocked for you, and you were quick to close it behind you. It was calmer than your own, the curtains open and golden light spilling in far softer than your own as his bedroom faced away from the rising sun. It smelled like him, that perfect mix that you always found so enticing, and the pathetic hope that it lingered in your sheets for a while made your eyes roll to only yourself. 

First dresser, top two drawers. Pulling out the first, rows and rows of neatly folded sweatpants were presented to you, and you tugged out a pair of muted green ones, unsure you’d be able to handle seeing him swagger around in those sinful grey ones today. The second drawer was t-shirts, a black one to match, and you tucked them under one arm, before backing away.

The journey back to your room was just as quick and stressful, barely taking a breath until you were sealed inside of your just-married bubble with Azriel once again. 

“See? You survived the big scary trip and my big scary room. I’m so proud.” You only scoffed, launching the clothes at him. 

“You know, it’s adorable that you colour-organise your sweatpants.” His laughter stopped abruptly, scowl shot in your direction. As you gained the upper-hand once again, you took a look at him. He had a sponge in one hand, still standing by the mirror and trying to reach around himself. Water was dotted along the carpet, some of the paste smeared into grey on his back now, but he could barely reach it. You softened upon looking at him, holding out your hand. “C’mere. Come sit on the bed.”

He did as told, after tugging on his sweatpants, and yesterday’s socks with a grimace, settling on the edge of the bed. Kneeling behind him once again, he flexed out his wings, bowing his head forwards for you to start work. Carefully, you wiped down his wings, giving extra caution to the paces that made him shiver or his breath catch, until the words were gone entirely. 

You weren’t sure what possessed you, when you leaned forwards, pressing a kiss to the back of his head. “All done.”

He only turned, his face close to yours as he looked over his shoulder, and he bumped his forehead against yours once. “Thank you.” His whisper was as low as your own, and your smile only grew. Letting yourself bask for only a second longer, you peeled away, headed to the bathroom to discard of the sponge and at least give your face a cursory wash, a splash of cold water to wake you up. 

When you returned, Azriel was just buttoning his shirt up behind himself, both of you looking far fresher and feeling much more composed than you had twenty minutes ago. 

“Ready to go deal with this?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, husband.” He grinned a little, opening the door and peering out into the corridor. Nobody was present to see him slipping out of your room, and so he turned back to you. 

“Now or never, wife.”

“I’d prefer never, to be honest.” Your stomach rumbled in disagreement as you stepped up beside him, both of you leaving your room behind, and his shadows darted along behind, swirling around you both like a cloak as you began your walk toward the voices you could already hear and the tempting smell of food.

Nerves were eating you alive, Azriel’s presence beside you doing little to calm the erratic racing of your heart or the beading of sweat along your spine, and so you found yourself twisting anxiously at the ring on your finger, spinning it around and around and around-

It went utterly silent as the two of you stepped into the doorway, all eyes moving to you both, scanning every footstep and breath as you moved across the room to take the only two seats still available. Pulling out the chair beside Mor, Azriel motioned for you to sit down, and you offered the best smile you could muster in response as you sank into the seat. He took the one next to you, Lucien on his other side buttering a piece of toast, and the only sound in the room was the loud crunch it made as he bit into it. 

Nobody spoke, until Cassian did; “So, how’s life as a married couple going so far?”

“So you all know?”  

“Well, you invited us all to watch,” Rhys smirked, a loud groan left you, your head falling down to burying your hands, and as laughter broke out around the table, you wanted to curl up into a ball. Better yet, you wanted to disappear entirely. Jokes quickly followed the laughter, only spurring on everyone’s amusement, and the burning of your blush was so high you were sure you were going to catch fire at any moment. You couldn't bare to even look up. 

That was, until a finger was tapping under your chin lightly. The rough feel of a scarred- fingertip telling you exactly who it was, who was guiding your face back up from the sanctity of your palms. Before you, was a plate of all your favourites that he’d gathered, and he placed a tall glass of orange juice down to match it, giving a sweet smile when your stare shifted thankfully to him. 

He nodded in acknowledgement, his smile lingering as he began to gather his food, but the moment was ruined by Feyre’s cooing as she elbowed her mate. “Oh, look, such a good husband you make, Az.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get it all out.” He sighed, fixing his usual terrifying stare around the guests at the table. “This is your chance to make jokes, while I’m distracted with food and a hangover.”

“Fuck that, I want to know the story,” Cassian spoke right over the top of any jokes that were coming, ignoring Feyre’s stare for his curse in front of her son, various sounds of shock and agreement sounding out. Once again it was quiet, all attention still hanging on your both, expectantly. 

“What story?” You raised your brows, shovelling some of the food into your mouth, hoping it would quell the rising nausea within you at the spotlight that had been thrust onto you now. 

“The story. How in the name of the Mother did you two end up getting married last night? That story.” The warrior clarified, and your jaw tightened as you tried to think. All that came up was a blur, half the night was clear and half of it was gone, right up until this morning. Unfortunately, the half you needed was the blurry part. 

Azriel, though, stiffened beside you, pausing with food halfway to his mouth. It was only a minute stutter, picking up action again hardly a second later, but you weren’t the only one to notice. Rhysand’s smile widened. “Az, looks like you might remember something. Care to share?”

He looked like he absolutely didn’t want to share, not even a speck of it, until his eyes moved to you. You wanted to know, and you were sure your face conveyed that, because he slumped a little in defeat.

“I had plans to tell you something last night.” He paused, leaving everyone at the table, including yourself, in suspense, as he poked at some of the food on his plate, and ate a little more. “I was nervous.”

“You, nervous? Must have been something important.” The look on Nesta’s face was like that of a predator hunting its prey, she was delighting in this, and Cassian chuckled by her side. You shot them both a glare, but Az never looked away from you. He looked nervous now as your attention moved back to him, the look on his face sparking something in your memory, and it was like a part of that blur uncocked just a little bit to release a memory. 

“Well, don’t you just look dashing tonight, shadowsinger?” You smirked a little, raising your glass to tip towards his as he chuckled, smoothing one hand down the front of his suit. He’d really gone all out tonight, a dark grey button-up shirt under a smart black waistcoat, tight suit pants and his best pair of boots, all shined up and ready for the party. He looked practically edible, with his hair styled for once, a single curl flicked down across his forehead. He was all but glowing under the lights, like glitter was painting along his skin, a glow in those golden eyes. 

“Well, I had to make sure I’d look alright standing next to you.” He was bold, this line you’d been dancing along in these last few months was still exhilarating, new enough that your breath rushed from your lungs in a sudden burst when he raked his gaze along you, purposefully slowly. “You look… there are no words for how you look tonight. I could list a few; stunning, beautiful, breathtaking, but I don’t think any of them do you justice.”

Your blush was so warm you wanted to press your glass against your skin just to cool it down, a smile stretching your lips as you stared up at him, even in heels. You stepped a fraction closer, his hand coming out gently, to find your one, fingers brushing your free palm lightly enough that you shuddered. Then, his smile was gone, he was nervous, a look you rarely ever saw in him. 

“I wanted to talk to you tonight. I have to tell you something.”

“Well, you have my full attention.” You hoped your tone was soft enough to melt away that panic, linking your fingers with his firmly, and his gaze dropped for a second to your joined hands. A smile flickered on his lips, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles. 

A new song played on the drums, the live band filled the room with music, and so many loud voices cheered and sang along, faelights flashing in all different colours to mimic the fall of the stars outside that would start soon. You could all but feel it like a temperature drop in the room when Azriel’s fear got the best of him. He locked up, body going rigid, eyes hard and smile turning sour.

“Maybe some liquid courage, first, hm?”

He let out a relieved breath, nodding his head, body loosening once again as he took the lead, guiding you away towards the bar.

“I remember that. You were nervous, you said we had something to talk about. I suggested we get some liquid courage.”

Azriel’s eyes glazed over a little, as though he was remembering too, reliving the moment the way you had. His jaw dropped a little, a puffed-out laugh leaving it on a breath. “Yeah… well, I think we might’ve had enough liquid courage for an entire army the night before battle.” 

Your laugh was the first one this morning that felt truly genuine, a light sparking in Azriel’s eyes at the sound. He stared, watching you giggle over the entire situation, and you’d feel self-conscious about it in front of everyone, if it didn’t make you feel so adored. That was the thing about Azriel, one of the many things that had made you fall for him so hard all those years ago, only getting worse since. 

The way he gave you his attention, the way he could make you feel like the only person in the room with a single look, the way he could make you feel special. It warmed your heart like nothing else ever had. His attention, his devotion, it was something you dreamed about, and longed for at night when you lay in bed alone, knowing he was only a few doors away. 

“So, you drank, a lot.” Feyre interrupted, Nyx giggling loudly at the way his mother had cupped her hands over his ears, as though he understood any of it. “Then what happened?”

“Another?” The bartend offered, you and Azriel already a giggling mess. You were leaning against one another, a row of sticky shot glasses lined up in front of yourselves, surrounded by bitten lime slices and split salt. The feel of his hand on your waist was like a brand through your dress, one you loved enough to place a hand over his, squeezing to keep it there. 

He didn’t, only sliding it further around your waist to yank you into his body, and your laughter stopped for a second in shock, staring up at him as he stared down, awaiting your reaction. You both melted into laughter once again. 

You could feel each deep breath he took, the brush of his chest against yours, and that laughter slowly fizzled out the closer he leaned. The bartend was long gone, the atmosphere around you both melting away into nothing more than a haze. His nose was bumping your own, dragging over your cheek, kisses without ever kissing as you shared space, shared breath. 

“We should- we should go sit down. Before I fall over in these heels.” You mumbled, and he hummed in acknowledgement. 

“I’d catch you.”

That only brought more giggles. “I think we both know, that’s not possible anymore. We’d both more likely end up sprawled out on the floor.”

He laughed too, head raising again and arm tightening at your waist. “Fine, sitting it is, but only because the floor is so dirty. Where’s our table again?”

You were mortified, fingers tracing over the tip of your nose in a feather-light touch, nothing like the way it had felt to be so close to him, to be touched by him, and the new wash of colour on his face suggested he was thinking the same thing. 

“We had some drinks, and then we came over to the table with you all.”

“Some drinks? You two drank the rest of us under the table.” Nesta scoffed, everyone laughing in agreement. Your body was already regretting everything after that first shot. “It was impressive!”

“But, also kinda’ nice.” Elain chipped in, the first thing she’d said this whole time, and she was now tucked happily under Lucien’s arm, grinning at the pair of you. “Seeing Az let go, loosen up like that. It was funny, but also sweet. I mean, I’d never seen him like that before, you bring out that side of him.”

You ducked from her stare, poking at the remnants of your food on your plate. “Pretty sure that was the tequila.”

“No, it was you,” Azriel muttered, shocking you enough that your head snapped towards him, but he was just staring at his plate, a soft upwards-twist of his lips showing his feelings.

“You challenged me to an arm wrestling competition.” Cassian cut in, a smirk on his face as you turned to look at him. 

“Did I win?”

He almost instantly regretted that question, because his smirk dropped, shifting to Nesta’s face instead as she sipped her tea. “Yeah, you did. Made all us Valkyries real proud, you can boast about it at the next training session.”

“You only won because Azriel cheated and helped you.” The General grumbled, crossing his arms and slumping in his chair. The male beside you shrugged, leaning back in his own with a cocky expression, and the two began bickering. 

A phantom feeling raced along your back as you tried to remember it. Flashes of the night, your hand clasped in Cassian’s, pushing with everything you had, another hand sitting over your own. Heat at your back as Azriel pressed himself up behind you, one arm around your waist, the other hand wrapped with yours as you both pushed at Cassian’s. His hand slammed into the table, the two of you celebrating as Cass took his loss like a sore loser.

“You also did a lot of dancing,” Mor chipped in next to your ear, practically a whisper as the men all now fought over what constituted cheating in ‘arm wrestling’. Images behind your eyes again, you and Azriel twirling across the dance floor, chest to chest again, so close you could practically taste him, laughing and giggling your way all around the room in laps for what felt like hours, until your legs were shaking and feet aching, both of you panting. “And then, the two of you were sneaking off between the pillars, laughing so much. It was adorable, you were never apart.”

Hands on your waist, pulling you away from the dance floor, like you wouldn't have followed him just about anywhere. If Azriel had asked you to, you’d have walked straight into one of the lakes in Oorid, just to see that smile on his face. He dragged you away, your back pressing against the cold stone of one of the pillars. It was a relief, your whole body hot and flushed, the cold stone cooling you a little.

It was quieter here, darker, and so much more peaceful as you were hidden away from the rest of the party. He leaned in, enough that his forehead was sat on your own, eyes closed as you both giggled hysterically. 

“Wait- what were we laughing at?” Your mind had emptied as he invaded your space, the smell of him emptying your thoughts out like scattered sand. 

“I don’t know.” More laughter took over, his body all but falling against your own as he sagged, shadows leaping in happy twirls and jumps like they were laughing too, pretty shapes around you that your eyes followed. “You know what would be funny, though? If someone spilt red wine on Eris’ suit. Who wears all white to a party?”

Azriel’s words draw loud laughter from you, bounding off of the walls between gasping breaths as you pictured it. 

“Or, if someone pranked Cassian like last year.”

You could barely breathe, arms wrapped around Azriel, clinging to him just to stay stood, and he twisted around, arms looped at your waist until it was his back pressed to the column, wings drooping either side, and you were slumped against his chest. “No, wait, I have the best one.” You pushed yourself up, one hand on his chest so you could meet his eye. “It would be so funny if Helion actually managed to convince Feyre and Rhys into that threesome.”

“What about when Mor found out, and that Helion was just moving his way through the family?”

“If they did fuck, would Lucien have to start calling Rhys ‘daddy’? Or is that only if they got married?” That seemed to be it, the two o you laughing so hard you slid down to the pillar, collapsing into a heap on the floor. You were half strewn across Azriel’s lap, face buried into his neck, his head tipped back to let the sounds of amusement flow free. 

His hair was messy now, yours the same, his cheeks pink and lips shining and he’d never looked better than he did at that moment. He lifted a hand, smoothing it across your cheek, one thumb running over your smile gently, “You know what would be the funniest, though…”

Your hand slapped over your mouth, darting to Azriel who dropped his fork, mouth dropping in shock and cheeks going the darkest shade of red yet. 

“Then, suddenly, the two of you are inviting us all down to one of the temples, and telling us you’re getting married!” Mor had no idea the moment she’d chosen to speak on, the key memory flashing through your mind of what had led to it all. “Poor Gwyn’s face, when you bombarded her with questions, asking her if priestesses held a high enough status to marry someone, and whether she’d do it right there, right now!”

“Gwyn married us?” Was all Azriel was finally able to choke out, still steadfastly ignoring your burning stare, and refusing to even let his eyes move sideways in your direction. 

“Yep.”

“Would you like to see your spectacular wedding?” Rhys offered, and it was enough to finally pull your focus from Az, moving to watch the High Lord tap at his temple in offer. He wasn’t looking at you, though, his eyes shifting to the middle distance, a look Azriel had too, upon closer inspection, and they were obviously talking. A conversation the rest of you weren’t a part of. Rhys’ brows rose, a silent question, and Azriel sighed. 

His face moved from shock, to embarrassment, to resignation, shrugging a little as his eyes came back into focus. Finally, he turned to look at you. He was nervous again. 

Taking his hand from the table, you squeezed it in both of yours, and he squeezed back, letting you settle your joint hands in your lap, never breaking eye contact. “S’okay, Rhys. Might as well get everything out in the open at once. I can’t get any more embarrassed, anyway.”

You squeezed his hand again.

There was a tapping at your mental shields, polite as ever, Rhysand made his presence known, first, A request, never a demand. You were proud of yourself for even still having them up, actually, dropping them for him to enter your mind. He grabbed onto your consciousness, dragging you into his head, to show you the scene playing through his eyes.

The giggles you’d been encased in had long since stopped, but that didn’t make the two of you any less clingy. Instead of holding hands, Rhys watched his friends cling to one another, foreheads pressed together and smiles on their faces. They looked a mess, wind ruffled from the flight here, as they all did, and eyes bright. Gwyn, slightly tipsy and utterly elated, was chanting her way through a text passage from the tome in her hands. 

Nyx was bored, tugging on his lapels as Feyre tickled at his stomach, trying to keep him quiet as they watched from the front row of the pews. He couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn't bear to leave, not when he was finally watching his brother smile like that. Not when he was finally watching his best friend get the girl he was always meant to have. Centuries of sadness and pain and suffering, and finally, they’d all get to be truly happy. 

“Azriel, uh, I don’t suppose you have any vows?” Gwyn offered, the book making a mighty slam as it snapped closed, a cloud of dust leaving it and she gripped it to her chest, teal eyes bouncing happily between the two at the altar. 

“Sure, yeah. I have… something.” The speech, Rhys felt excitement bubble within himself at the speech he’d heard Azriel practising for days to tell her. “I have been trying to tell you this all night. All month. For years, actually, so, I’m glad I can finally say it.”

Chuckles sounded around him, and Cassian hooted in encouragement somewhere to his left. “Get her, Az!”

“I’m in love with you. Plain and simple. I’m so fucking in love with you, that I can’t think straight. I can’t act right. I can barely breathe when you smile at me, and when you look at me, it makes me feel worth it. Like everything I had to endure to get to this point was nothing, because you make it all right. Everything, from the scars on my heart to the ones on my hands, you make it all feel okay. You’re beautiful, you’re special, and I hope you feel even a tiny bit of what I feel for you, because if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you with everything that I have to give. And when we die one day, my soul will forever be bound to yours, following you across the winds, to wherever you want to go. Life or death, sickness or health, happiness or sadness, I’m yours.”

It was so much more than the speech they’d had planned, something truly poured from his heart, and he rubbed a hand over his chest as he watched. He watched you cry, watched tears stream slowly down your face as you gaped, and watched Azriel wipe them away patiently. 

You were overwhelmed, clearly so, and yet you reached up, cupping Azriel’s cheeks in both of your hands. 

“Some spymaster you are, huh? How did you not know I love you too? So much, Az, for years. There are so many things about you, everything about you, I just-” You cut yourself off with a sniff, lip wobbling as you stared at him, and with your confession too, Azriel was grinning. 

“It’s okay, don’t cry, my love.”

“When I stop crying, I’ll give you a real good speech too, I promise.” That drew laughter from them all, and he could feel Feyre practically buzzing with excitement against his side, could feel the overwhelm of both Cassian and Azriel’s emotions from their bond. 

“Are you sure you want to-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish that tickle of doubt, before you were pulling his face down, body flush to his as you leaned into the kiss. Your lips melded together, Azriel wasted no time in responding, and Rhysand let out his own loud cheer of approval to join everyone else’s as the deal was all but sealed. 

“Well, kiss your bride… I guess?” Gwyn teased, stepping down from the altar as the two remained locked in their tear-filled, happy embrace. With a wink of magic, Rhys was holding out his hand, a set of pretty bands sat in the centre. With another flick, the pair was sitting snugly around each finger, and at the sudden coldness, the pair snapped apart. 

Glancing down at your hands, you were busy admiring yours while Azriel’s head turned to Rhys, mouthing his thanks, before taking your hand and throwing them up in the air. 

“I got the girl! I got the girl, Cass!”

“Yeah, you did, buddy!” His friend hollered, all of them making their way up to the altar now in a stream to offer their congratulations. 

The memory fizzled out, you felt yourself being slowly deposited back into your own body, until you were blinking your eyes and taking a gasping breath. The room was silent, waiting for any kind of response, and Azriel was pushing the last of his foot around his plate aimlessly, an anxious frown sitting on his lips. Your hands squeezed, coming up empty, and finding his hand was now sitting on his lap, clenched into a tight fist so hard his knuckles were white.

“I had imagined something better for our first kiss. Preferably, something I’d consciously remember.” He still wasn’t looking at you, even as he spoke. Out of everything about this situation that made it crazy, somehow, marrying Azriel, it all seemed to make sense. Nothing about it felt wrong, or crazy, and you only wished you’d remember the beautiful moment through your own eyes instead of someone else. It was your turn to direct his attention now. 

“Yeah?” Your hand settled behind his head, sitting on the nape of his neck and rubbing lightly, until he looked up at you. Hope. Hope shone in those pretty eyes. “Something more like this?”

The moment your lips met his, gasps sounded and cutlery dropped to hit plates sharply. But, you didn’t care. Moving slowly, Azriel barely paused, before letting out a quiet moan against your lips, relief and love mixed into the sound, as he kissed back. One hand found your cheek, the other spreading along the back of your chair until his arm wrapped around you to tug you in closer. His lips were shy against your own, growing in confidence with every drag, your noses bumping, promises and affection and need shining through. 

He pulled back, for a quick breath, your lungs burning in a heady way that made you dizzy, before he was stealing more, prolonging the kiss. Vaguely, you could hear Cassian cheering, Feyre aww-ing, and Lucien chuckling. Nyx was clapping his little hands excitedly, obviously picking up on the joy in the atmosphere. Azriel’s thumb swiped over your cheek as he pulled back, a final kiss left on your still-puckered lips. 

His pupils were blown wide as he licked over his own. You smiled, hoping to maintain at least a little of your dignity and all of your innocence, before you jumped your new husband right at the table now that all of the confusion was cleared. His nose was still bumping your own lightly, lips barely brushing, and he placed another chaste kiss on your lips, need burning hot between you both. “Yeah, just like that.”

Finally, he pulled away, sparing you both any embarrassment if he’d stayed longer and you’d lost all your self-control. He was grinning stupidly as everyone stared at you both, his arm still spread along the back of your chair, fingers brushing your shoulder in aimless patterns. 

“So, what are you going to do now?” Lucien raised a good question, you hadn't really thought that far. And yet, still, as you glanced from your wedding band to your husband, you felt nothing but bliss. 

“Well, I think Azriel should take his wife on their first date, for starters.”

Azriel only nodded, turning to look at you and you swore hearts were visible in his eyes as he did. He leaned in, lips brushing your own again, a tease of a kiss that had you leaning forwards for more, and before he gave in, he simply whispered, “I’ll pick you up at six, my love.”

[kidney9-9]

Kinktober Day 3 - Bucky Barnes

Welcome to day 3 of Kinktober! I hope you enjoy, please read the warnings!

Bucky Barnes x Reader [Smut] Warnings: Smut, hand kink, fingering Word Count: 1529

“Ok, I don’t get why you’ve been avoiding me, but this stops now.” Bucky spoke up, shutting the door behind him and locking it. Your eyes widened, looking around the room and realizing no one was there. It was the private gym for the Avengers group, which you were a new addition to.

And he was right, you’ve been avoiding him like the plague.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You tried to lie, nervously taking a step back towards the wall.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Yes, you do. Is it because I was the winter soldier? Did I do something to you or your family?” His questions made you shake your head.

“No! Nothing like that.” You responded, hoping he wasn’t offended.

“Then what? You’ve got a stick up your ass that tells you to keep away from me?” He snorted and you almost smiled at the joke, but you were too nervous about it.

“It’s uh, really nothing, Bucky.” You tried to convince him, but he obviously did not believe you.

“Just tell me or stop avoiding me. Seriously.” He groaned, pushing a hand through his hair. Your breath hitched at the sight, which he noticed instantly.

His eyes narrowed, “Is it my metal hand?” When you didn’t respond, he groaned and threw his hand up into the air.

“Of course, it is! Why did I think that the new member of the team would be accepting my hand? Fucking hell.” He cursed and rolled his eyes again.

You realized that he didn’t understand why you were affected by his hand, and you sighed, feeling even worse. You have to tell him now, or else he’ll feel so uncomfortable around you when he was being himself.

“Uh, look, it’s not that. Nothing like that at all.” You paused, glancing at the hand, then looking away a few moments later. “I have this thing… you know? It’s like I really um,” You cleared your throat, and sighed, not believing you were doing this. “I really like hands…especially yours.”

Bucky immediately stared directly at you, eyes slightly widening, “You…like hands.” He smirked, “You really like hands, huh?”

You gulped nervously, “Yes, I do. So, if you’ll excuse me.” You made your way to the door, but then he blocked you.

“Nope, you’re not allowed to leave right now.” He chuckled, standing close to you. Again, you back away slightly and look at him confused.

“What, why? I just embarrassed myself so bad!” You covered your face and groaned.

“Tell me why you like my hands. I want to know.” He looked so pleased with himself and you rolled your eyes.

“Really, man?” You let out and he nodded back to you, a laugh escaping his lips.

“Uh, they’re just really hot. I like when hands grip things because it flexes and – you know what, stop it, I’m not saying anymore.” You were more than just embarrassed now, and it was making you angry.

“C’mon, don’t be like that. And besides, I find you attractive too.” He responded, laughing at your reaction.

You blew out a sigh, “I didn’t say I was attracted to you!”

He raised an eyebrow, “Hm, you didn’t have to say, I could tell.” He took a step towards you and grinned.

You felt a bit flustered, “Are you flirting with me because you like seeing me angry? Or are you flirting with me because you want something?”

“A little bit of both.” He admitted.

“What do you want?” You grumbled out, crossing your arms as he took another step towards you, becoming very close to you. You tried to act nonchalant about it, but it was affecting you, so you took a few steps back, hitting the wall.

He grinned at you and followed you to the wall, putting his metal hand up against the wall next to your head, causing you to shudder slightly at the sight of his hand so close.

“I want you. Do you want me?” His voice was lowered.

You blinked in surprise but nodded, “Yeah I do.” You revealed.

He lowered his head to yours and captured your lips into a sweet long kiss, then it started to deepen. You kissed him back after a moment of surprise and slipped your arms up around his neck. You moaned slightly as he pressed his tongue against your bottom lip, slipping into your mouth and gliding against your tongue.

You pulled him closer against you, pressing your body up onto his, as his other hand trailed down to your hip, squeezing tightly. You moaned again at the feeling, and Bucky pulled away slightly, “Up, get up.” He told you, and you jumped up and wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Fuck,” You panted, starting to grind your clothed pussy against him, as he carried you across the room towards the gym mats.

He grunted as he went down on his knees, placing you on the soft mats and following you to place his body on top of yours. He pulled away from the messy kiss and pushed your shirt up roughly. You got up a bit to take your top off and Bucky threw it across the room. Instead of taking your bra off, he pulled your breasts out of the cups of your bra and pressed his mouth down onto one of your tits.

“Ah, oh my, Bucky!” You cried out as he took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked on it, then took it between his teeth, pinching it harshly.

You pushed your body up against his, wanting to feel more of his bare skin. “Take your clothes off,” You panted, making him pull away from your breasts.

He took off his shirt and while he did that, you started to take your yoga pants. You took your panties off as well, tossing them to the side of the mats. He gazed down at you hotly, “Fuck, I should’ve asked you sooner, then we could’ve done this.”

You chuckled slightly, “Yeah, maybe in a proper bedroom.”

He shrugged, “The gym isn’t the worst place to have sex.”

He grunted as he took his pants and underwear off, revealing his hard cock. “I don’t have a condom.” He groaned.

“I can’t do this without a condom.” You responded with a frown.

“I’ll just fuck you with my fingers, you’d like that huh? Then we can head to my room for the next round and I’ll have a condom there.” He replied nonchalantly.

Your eyes widened, “Oh! Okay, yeah, that’s good.”

He placed one of his hands on your stomach, causing you to gasp. He almost chuckled at your reaction. “You really like hands.” He spoke up.

You nodded at him, “Well, that’s what a hand kink is.”

“That’s what it’s called, huh?” He chuckled. You gasped as he settled his metal hand on your inner thigh. You watched eagerly as he teased you by trailing his fingers closer and closer to your pussy. It felt cold compared to the heat radiating off your skin.

Finally, he placed his hand on your pussy. He played with the outer lips of your pussy slightly, as he reveled in the look on your face as your breathing started to speed up. He circled around your clit just very slightly with his metal thumb, making you jump.

“Oh god, Bucky!” You gasped, grinding your hips down to get more of his fingers.

He dipped one of his fingers into your pussy, stretching it out. You groaned at the feeling, “More, please.” You whimpered.

“Mm, look how well your pussy’s taking my fingers.” He chuckled, causing you to look down and moan at the sight.

It made you even wetter, looking at how he dipped another finger into your pussy as his thumb rubbed your clit in circles. His other hand went up to your tits and started to play with one of your nipples, making you shudder more.

“Bucky… I’m so close.” You warned him, your legs started to shake. His fingers were hitting your g-spot repeatedly and his thumb rubbed your clit even faster and harder.

“Good, I want you to cum on my fingers.” He grunted, and you noticed his cock was leaking pre cum. It made you gulp, ready for him in the next round he was talking about.

Just then, you felt your orgasm hit you, “Fuck, Bucky, it’s happening, I’m coming.” Your entire body was shaking and shivering as pleasure hit you intensely, pushing you further into your orgasm. He continued his actions with his hands, switching to the other nipple to play with.

You came hard on his fingers, and he groaned, feeling your come on his fingers. He pulled his fingers out of your pussy and smiled at the sight.

“Look at it, your cum on my hand. You like it, right?” He asked, chuckling as you came back. You gasped and nodded, feeling even more aroused and ready for more.

“Fuck, Bucky…” You panted. He licked his fingers cleaned and hummed at the taste, enjoying it.

“Aw, don’t look so tired already. We’re just about to head into the next round!” He chuckled.

[mousy-nona]

Possible prompt: tails? Lucifer finds out Alastor has a tiny deer tail (as the fandom envisions) while Alastor finds out he likes playing with Lucifer's sharp tail (in his transformed state - not to mention, the black tail with the red heart is Alastor's colours lol)

“Gerroff,” Alastor growled. 

They’d been fighting. Again. It happened so often that the rest of the hotel had long given up doing anything about it, treating them like two overactive toddlers before nap time. Let them tire themselves out. They'll get bored eventually.

Except Lucifer and Alastor were decidedly not toddlers, and their brawls usually ended up in someone – or something – getting hurt. 

This time, Lucifer had accidentally launched himself at Alastor hard enough to send them both tumbling over the railing from the top floor. He’d transformed at the last second, his wings creating enough of a drag so they didn’t break the floor of the hotel. 

But the sudden movement caused them to flip over in midair, and Lucifer found himself cushioning Alastor’s fall with his own body. 

“Ouch!” 

His roar of pain was deafening. Alastor winced, his sensitive ears twitching. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he scowled. 

“When you stop being such an asshole,” Lucifer hissed back, rubbing his sore bottom. 

Alastor rolled his eyes. “You didn’t make this much of a fuss when I blasted you into the Greed ring.” 

“Well, I landed on my tail this time,” Lucifer said crossly. “Don’t you know you never mess with a man’s tail? What kind of savage are you?” He sighed, shaking his head at him pityingly. “I guess I can’t expect too much out of someone who doesn’t have one.” 

Alastor snorted. “And what makes you think I don’t?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened. The slightest hint of a blush rose across his pale face. “You have a tail?” Is it fluffy?

“I’m a deer, my dear. Of course I have a tail.”

Lucifer gasped, then winced as his own tail perked up in excitement, accidentally tugging at the spot he’d landed on. Alastor’s gaze flicked to his ass. 

“It does look a little bent,” he admitted. One of his claws reached out and trailed gently across the pitch black line, starting from the sore spot and ending at the heart. Lucifer shivered, the hyper-sensitive skin sending sparks of something up and down his body. 

“Who told you you could touch it?” He asked, his voice pitched embarrassingly high. 

Alastor’s hand stilled. “My apologies. I thought you might want some help straightening it out.” 

“I didn’t mean – it’s fine.” A strange thought suddenly occurred to him, and before he knew it, his mouth was moving before his brain could catch up. “Since you touched mine, can I touch yours?”

Alastor cocked his head, considering this for a moment. Just as Lucifer was about to take it back and claim temporary insanity, he nodded and held out his hand. “An acceptable deal. Shall we shake on it?” 

Lucifer took his hand – and suddenly, the world blurred. He found himself unceremoniously thrown off of Alastor. He started protesting, but immediately cut himself off when the tall demon stood and started shedding his coat.

He gulped, his mouth suddenly dry. “What are you doing?”

Alastor looked at him strangely. “Showing you my tail. Surely you won’t be able to reach it with this old thing in the way?’

Two strong forearms, scarred and slim and strong, appeared from underneath the coat. As Alastor neatly folded it and placed it on the couch, the thin fabric of his shirt twisted and flexed, revealing the powerful, slender form hiding underneath. 

Then Alastor turned around, and Lucifer gasped.

“Oh my god it’s so fluffy!” He squealed, sounding exactly like his daughter. Alastor even glanced around nervously, checking to make sure Charlie hadn’t somehow snuck in while he’d been distracted. 

“There will be no tail-touching for you if you don’t calm down this instant,” he frowned. 

Lucifer forced himself to sit still. “I’m calm, I’m calm.”

Alastor cast a suspicious glance at him, but sighed and crooked his finger forward. “Well, come on then.” 

The first touch was heavenly. The little puffball stuck on Alastor’s behind was even softer than he’d imagined, like rabbit’s fur mixed with fresh-fallen snow. It was sensitive too, twitching with every soft stroke. He was so focused on patting it he didn’t even notice Alastor was getting near his tail until he’d pinched the end of it between his claws, hard. 

“Hey!” He yowled. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

He flashed his trademark grin. “That was the deal, my dear. I touch yours, you touch mine. And can you blame me? You have quite the fascinating specimen back here. I haven’t seen anything like it.”

The unexpected compliment brought an alarming amount of heat to his cheeks. “Yours isn’t so bad, either.” 

And Lucifer added two things to his list of things he knew about Alastor that day: Alastor’s tail was adorable enough to make a baby bunny rabbit jealous, and he made some very interesting sounds when it was touched.

It was, all things considered, a fine day.

[shitsndgiggs]

PLS DO PART 2 TO THE COCKY KENAN PLS BUT CAN HE BE JEALOUS BECAUSE READER OS GOING OUT WITH FRIENDS BUT THERE MOSTLY BOYS AND HES TELLING ALEX “how can you let her go out like that” OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT BUT A RLLY JEALOUS KENAN

Part 1

THE GAME WE PLAY (Part 2) - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan getting jealous that you are going out with your guy friends

Brother’s best friend! Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Kenan had been quiet for most of the day. Too quiet.

I’d gotten used to him showing up at my house, always trying to flirt or flex—literally. It was his thing. But today, something felt... off.

I’d spent the past hour getting ready—nothing too fancy, just a cute dress, some light makeup, and my hair loosely done.

The plan was to go out with a group of friends, just a casual night out, but I had a feeling that Kenan wasn’t exactly thrilled about it.

“Bro, come on! You seriously think this is a good idea?” Kenan’s voice had that desperate, almost pleading tone I wasn’t used to hearing from him. “I mean, you’re cool with her going out like this? With guys?”

I stopped mid-lip gloss application and tilted my head, listening closer.Was Kenan really getting worked up over this?

Alex, as usual, sounded completely unbothered. “Dude, she’s an adult. She can do whatever she wants.”

“That’s not the point!” Kenan groaned, and I could practically hear him pacing the room.

“You’re really okay with her going out dressed up? You know there are going to be guys there who—”

“Who what?” Alex cut him off, sounding more amused than concerned. “Who are gonna hit on her? So what? She can handle it.”

I had to cover my mouth to stop myself from laughing. Kenan was really panicking.

I took one last glance at myself in the mirror. Apparently, Kenan thought I was about to cause a riot or something.

I tiptoed closer to the hallway so I could hear more of their conversation.

“Alex, seriously, man,” Kenan’s voice dropped, almost a whisper now, like he didn’t want me to overhear. “How can you just... let her go out like this? With guys? She looks—”

“She looks great,” Alex said, interrupting him again, clearly enjoying how much Kenan was squirming. “And why are you so worked up about it?”

“I’m not worked up,” Kenan mumbled, sounding anything but convincing. “I’m just... concerned.”

I couldn’t resist anymore. I stepped into the living room, catching both of them off guard. Kenan was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking frustrated, while Alex was sprawled out on the couch, smirking.

“What are you two talking about?” I asked innocently, leaning against the doorframe.

Kenan’s head snapped in my direction, and for a second, he just stared at me. His eyes ran over my outfit, his jaw tightening as he took it all in. I could see the wheels turning in his head, and he didn’t even try to hide his irritation.

“We were just talking about how someone is about to go out with a bunch of guys,” Kenan said, his voice tight as he gave me a pointed look.

I shrugged, pretending like I didn’t know exactly what he was hinting at. “They’re just friends.”

Kenan scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, his biceps flexing in frustration. “Yeah, friends who are going to be staring at you all night.”

Alex snorted from the couch, clearly finding this whole situation hilarious. “Kenan, man, you’re being dramatic. She’s just going out for a few hours.”

Kenan shot Alex a desperate look, his voice dropping in urgency. “You seriously don’t have a problem with this?”

Alex raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying watching Kenan squirm. “Why would I? She’s my sister, not my prisoner.”

Kenan groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “But, like... look at her! How can you just let her walk out the door like this? There are going to be guys hitting on her all night!”

I couldn’t help but smile at how flustered he was. Kenan, always so cool and collected, was falling apart at the thought of me going out with a group of guys.

I took a few steps toward him, enjoying the way his eyes widened slightly as I got closer. “Kenan, are you... jealous?”

His eyes flickered, but he quickly tried to play it off. “Jealous? No. I’m just... I don’t trust those guys, okay?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t trust them, or you don’t trust me?”

His face softened for a moment, but he quickly covered it with another grumble. “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s them.”

Alex, still lounging on the couch, couldn’t resist jumping in. “Dude, relax. You act like she’s going to run off with one of them or something.”

Kenan shot him a glare. “You’re not helping.”

I stepped even closer, so close I could see the tension in Kenan’s jaw, the way his chest rose and fell a little faster than usual. He was definitely jealous.

“Kenan,” I said softly, placing a hand on his arm, “I can handle myself. You don’t need to worry.”

He stared down at me, his eyes conflicted. “I know you can. I just... don’t like the idea of those thrashy guys even thinking they have a chance with you.”

I smiled, squeezing his arm gently. “They don’t.”

Kenan blinked, looking a little caught off guard by how direct I was. His shoulders relaxed slightly, but he still looked unconvinced.

“So, what? You want Alex to tell me I can’t go out?” I teased, glancing over at my brother, who was now watching us with a smirk.

Kenan’s eyes flickered to Alex again, and for a split second, I saw the desperation in his expression. “Maybe.”

Alex burst out laughing, slapping the couch. “Oh man, you’ve got it bad, Kenan.”

Kenan shot him another glare before looking back at me, his face softening. “I just... I don’t want you to go out and come back with stories about how some guy was flirting with you all night.”

I smiled, standing on my tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “You don’t have to worry about that. Trust me.”

Kenan’s jaw relaxed, and I could see the relief wash over him. He still looked a little annoyed, but at least he wasn’t in full panic mode anymore.

“You’re really driving me crazy, you know that?” he muttered, his voice low, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

I grinned, stepping back and heading for the door. “Good.”

He watched me with a mix of frustration and fondness, his arms crossed over his chest as I grabbed my purse.

“You better not let anyone buy you a drink,” he called after me, his voice full of warning but also playful.

I turned back with a wink. “I won’t. I’ll be thinking about you the whole time.”

Kenan’s lips twitched into a smirk, though I could still see the jealousy lingering in his eyes. “You better.”

As I walked out the door, I could feel his gaze on me the entire way. And honestly? I didn’t mind one bit.

Let him be jealous—because deep down, he knew exactly where I’d be coming back to at the end of the night.