#i thin not having that noise will make finding them more special

[irradiatedsnakes]

you can still see shinys in the overworld, however they no longer make the shiny noise or sparkle when spawning, only when you enter battle

gotchya! thank you

[reiderwriter]

Smutty part two of the hand to hand combat fic plz

A/N: Your wish is my command! I think a lot of people were frustrated at where I left the first part off lol, so here's a special treat for everyone who lowkey hated me after that lmao. Enjoy! 18+ MINORS DNI Also it is a crime that there aren't more gifs of Spencer wet, I have used most of them ㅠㅠ

You can read the first part here!

Warnings: shower sex, fingering, suggestive washing idk, Intercrural sex (he fucks the gap between her thighs for a while), no contraception, PinV sex, slight cum play? I guess?

You can also find my masterlist here, and if you enjoy my 18+ works, I'm partaking in kinktober, and you can find out about all of my plans here :]

As you washed off the day's sweat, standing in the shower rooms of the FBI gym, you cursed the gods above for making you such a coward. 

If you'd been bolder during your sparring session with Spencer, you could've ended the day in a much more pleasurable way, or you'd at least have the memory of whatever you'd do to aid your fantasies. You thought back to your humbling defeats of earlier that day. You really thought you could get the upper hand on Reid in at least one of your rounds, but no. He’d got the jump on you all three times, leaving you squirming under his touch on the mat as he enjoyed his defeats. 

The second-round had been close, having the initial upper-hand being in the assailant role, but he’d used his extra height to throw you off balance, pinning you to the ground from behind, his hands trapping yours against your lower back. You’d blushed at the compromising position, your ass raised suggestively, his bodyweight pushed on top of yours, crotch to your centre, as you tried stay calm despite the very thin materials of both of your work out gears that separated you. 

Not that you were complaining about the extra contact, but you weren’t beneath using it as an excuse for your loss. In your final round, he’d let you think you hand the upper hand for a second, teasing you about enjoying the view from your place above him, straddling his waist as you pinned him down. By that point, you were beyond horny, reaching near orgasmic levers of desperation to feel him push up into you, and he’d let you enjoy the feeling of your core grinding into him for a few minutes. Just long enough that no one else would notice that your movements weren’t simply struggles to keep him pinned. Then, he’d gone and ruined it by thrusting his hips up quickly and using the momentum and your shock to buck you off to the side, returning you to your earlier pinned pose. Despite the losses, you couldn’t really find much else to complain about other than the fact that you hadn’t kissed him right then and there, having not thrown caution to the wind. 

With each pulse of water from the shower head, you tried to clear your head, but he'd consumed your thoughts. You didn't think you wanted him this badly, but apparently one touch was all it took for you to become aware of the desire you had for him. You let your own hands trail between your legs as you decided to deal with your bodies pent up frustrations.

The door to the bathroom opened, though, just when you were about to get going and you had to pull your hand away as you called out to your new friend. 

"Pen? That you? God I'm so fucking sweaty from that work out." You laughed a little as you greeted her, but the other person didn't make any other noises, stopping dead in their tracks. 

"Y/N?" Somehow your blood ran cold as your body heated up. 

"Spencer? What are you…?" You whipped your head around to get a look at him over the glass shower stall door, pulling your hands over your chest, reflexively. 

"Morgan said the men's showers were broken, and he was heading home to shower. But I can't sit for that long on the subway without getting rid of all this sweat. He said there'd be no one else in here since we stayed so late…. I can… I can leave if you need me to?" 

"No! No, it's okay, it's not like we're using the same shower or anything, and I don't want you to feel so… Uncomfortable." 

He thanked you, then slipped into a stall a three away from your own, as you tried your best not to watch the flex of his arms as he firmly gripped his towel around himself. 

Turning back to your own shower, you decided you needed to speed it up, actually get on with it so you could escape this awkward, tempting situation. You were almost sure this was some kind of divine punishment. You lathered up your hair and began to massage your head when the water suddenly ran so cold it burned. 

"Ah, shit," you whimpered out as you ran from the water as quickly as possible. 

"Um, Spencer?" 

"Y-Yeah," he responded, having heard your moans and immediately perked his head up. 

"Your shower stall, it's the second from the door right?" 

"Yeah, why?" 

"Shit, I should've mentioned something," you ran a hand through your hair as you turned off your shower. "That one doesn't work too well, when you use hot water in that one for some reason, it makes the rest of these showers run cold for the rest of the day." 

"Oh, I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't realise." 

"No, it's good, I guess it's just cold shower time for me now." You sighed in a huff of annoyance, and turned your shower back on. 

"Do you… Do you want to come and use this one? My water's still hot and the cold water really won't be good for relaxing your muscles after all that work." 

"With you?" Your eyes meet his over the walls of your shower stall and you try not to sound too eager. Maybe this could be your chance after being such an idiot earlier. 

"Yeah, I guess. I still need to, you know, wash up?" 

You nodded at him then, and began collecting your things, your towels in your hands covering your sensitive areas, but only just as you stepped into his space.

He pressed himself against one of the walls as you entered, doing his best to cover his cock with his hands, but failing pretty miserably. You shot a single look down there, hoping he didn't notice. He was hard, and God did you want to help him out. 

But unsure of how to broach the topic, you ignored it and put your things down, before turning in to face the shower. A little sign of contentment fell over you as you felt the heat against your skin again, body relaxing as you began washing off your hair once again. 

You felt him move until he was a shadow at your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. 

"Y/N, let me help you clean your back. I don't want you to flare up that arm injury, and you're not reaching that well." 

"What?" Ill advisedly, you turn to face him. His eyes trail over your body, landing on the swell of your chest as you stand only millimeters from touching. Gently dragging his eyes back up, he repeats his plea, and turns you around, grabbing your body wash.

"Trust me, I'll help." But you know this isn't going to do any good easing the tension in your body, his hands on you being as distracting as they were. You almost jusmo a little when his bare hands finally come down on your waist. 

"S-Spencer I have a loofah!" You almost moan out as he begins to rub circles into your skin with his fingers spread. He's closer now, and with his hands out of the way. You can feel his cock, bare against your ass, twitching as you realise he's getting a lot of pleasure out of this. 

"Do you know how much bacteria can live on one of those things? You wanted to get clean, right?" It's all you can do not to buck back into him as he releases the words, hands coming up to your shoulders as he works his strength into your skin. His hands feel so good against you, that you barely notice them slipping around your front, as he begins to work on the plains of your stomach as well.

You throw your head back against his chest in pleasure as he slips higher and higher, hands eventually cupping your breasts as he slowly lathers them up, taking his time to feel every single inch of your skin. You whimper in your pleasure, and you hear his heavy breathing similarly pick up. 

"Spencer…" You don't know what your words are asking, begging for, but it's clear he does, as his hands spread. One goes up to your neck, wrapping around you tightly as you gasp out a breath, the other washing hanging in the air as he rids it of soap before trailing down between your legs. 

His fingers find your clit and you whimper. 

"That's it baby, I'm just gonna help you get clean, okay? Gonna make you feel good, too." You nod at his words, giving him the silent confirmation he needs to press his cock in between your thighs and start rubbing it up against you, not yet pushing it in. You're pushing your ass back into him now as he starts to fuck the folds of your sweet cunt, writhing in pleasure everytime his tip catches on your hole, pleasure rolling off your tongue in waves. 

His hand on your neck keeps you from gaining volume, keeping you grounded as he gets you close to that euphoric bliss. You're desperate to actually feel him inside you though, squirming in the hopes that one of his thrusts will accidentally land on target. 

"Spencer, please…" You know what you want now, and you're desperate for him to listen, as you turn your head to the side, grabbing the back of his own as you pull him down for a sloppy kiss. His hips still as he falls into the kiss, tongue dragging over your lips and begging for entrance. His hand stays on your clit though, and within a few more rubs you feel yourself twitch in his arms, fully held up by his hand on your neck. 

"Spencer, please, need you…" 

"Are you sure, Y/N? This is still a public bathroom, and I don't want you to think you have to do anything just bec-" You cut him off with another kiss, and that's all he needs before he's pressing you back into the shower stall, wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing his cock inside of you. 

You pulled his lips down to yours again and again, desperate to taste him, shower abandoned behind you. His pace picked up and soon he was slamming into you, with the full force of his body, the weight that had earlier been used to pin you down now being used to pleasure you to the fullest. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, letting his eyes fall to the place where your two bodies met, his grunts filling the space as you tried your best to bite your tongue. You knew that if you let yourself be as loud as you could've been in that moment, someone would definitely notice. 

"Just like that, Spencer, fuck, just like that." Your hips bucked wildly against his as he pulled your other leg up and around him, holding you fully off the ground as he continued his movements. 

You gripped his back, letting your nails find any purchase they could, dragging scratches down his skin, marking him as yours. You didn't feel so bad about the pain you must've been dealing him though, not when his hands were leaving red handprints on your hips from his tight grip, the sharp discomfort only fuelling your passion. 

"Spence, I'm… Fuck I'm close." Your head slumped into his neck. 

"Cum for my, Y/N, need to feel you clench around my cock." He grunted, and somehow your body listened to his demands perfectly, spilling over the edge with his next thrust. 

He moaned out quickly, lowering your legs to the floor, still holding you up, as he pulled out and stroked his cock a few more times. His white release painted both of your stomachs with his climax, and you fell against each other in your bliss, trying to both gain back your normal heart rate and calm your breath. 

"Spencer, I think we need to get back in the shower," you smiled up at him, and dragged him back over to it as he flushed, not finding the words needed to apologise for his mess. 

You pulled him in for a kiss under the water and mentally thanked Morgan for putting you through hell that day. He pulled away from you to attempt to talk, but you didn't want to let him. 

"You know," he started, but you tried to shut him up again, wanting desperately to feel his lips right back on yours. 

"Y/N, please," he laughed pulling your head away from him as you whined out childishly. 

"You know, Morgan was lying about us needing to do this physical thing." Your eyes bulged at the confession, as you tried to stammer out a reply. 

"What? I… What?" 

"He pulled the same act a year or so ago, too. Y/N, Penelope is never in the field, she doesn't have to do physical training, and we both have enough case hours to cover any further requirements." 

"So he… ThatThat son of a bitch." You muttered angrily to yourself as he ran a hand through your still damp hair, smiling down on you peacefully. 

"Wait, Spencer… If you knew that he was making this whole thing up, why did you go along with it?" 

"Needed an excuse." He pulled you in for another kiss, this one slow and languid, as you felt him twitch to life again at your thigh. 

"An excuse for what?" You moaned out as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving behind a trail of love bites you were sure would bloom into purple bruises, just another decoration for your neck alongside his handprint. 

"An excuse to touch you. You're very good at following professional boundaries, you know?" You laughed at him once more and let him pull you close into him again. It took you an extra hour to shower that day, but it was worth every second. 

[goldenhypen]

; ⎯ but i still love you .

synopsis. it’s relieving to know you weren’t the only one not taking the breakup too well.

pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader ⋅ genres. exes to lovers, angst to fluff ⋅ wc. 3.5k ⋅ warnings. hoon is shirtless for some of it sjsjsj

prompts 1. holding their hands when they are shaking ; 20. washing their back/hair in the shower ; 38. letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt ; 49. giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath ; 50. buying them a special treat when you go out shopping ⋅ requested ⋅ dark blood event

song rec. the truth untold — bts

a/n. somehow ended up combining all of the sunghoon prompts into one v long fic sorry not sorry djdnd this one was rlly fun to write since i haven’t gotten to write longer fics in a while,, so i rlly hope you guys enjoy <33

a strong gust of the chilling misty air shot past and against your body, causing you to shield yourself with the limited protection you currently had on you—in other words, your thin jacket. 

it was pouring hard, and you eventually made cover under the narrow overhang of the convenience store. you shivered.

taking a peak at the darkened night sky above, it didn’t look like the rain was going to pause anytime soon. you sighed, scolding yourself for not bringing any money with you this time. if you did, you could have purchased an umbrella. looks like you were going to be stranded for who even knew how long?

whipping your head to the left at the sudden sound of wet steps splashing against the puddles on the road, it looked like you weren’t the only one in need of temporary shelter. and of course, of all people in the entire neighbourhood, it just had to be your ex, park sunghoon.

you two had broken up about a month ago, though it felt infinitely longer. you two had barely talked throughout all that passed time, and even though you were the one who broke up with him, you couldn’t seem to remove him from the special place you reserved for him in your heart.

finding protection under the skinny roof, he panted, attempting to catch his breath. 

“y/n,” he stood there nearly speechless for a moment, processing the fact that you were standing in front of him for the first time in many long weeks.

suddenly he could hear the thumping of his heart clearly booming against his rib cage. he just hoped it wasn’t loud enough for you to hear—an impossible task considering you were standing about three metres away from each other, the sound of hundreds of water drops hitting the pavement simultaneously every second. he just couldn’t imagine exposing to you the fact that moving on hasn’t been nearly as easy as it should be.

“hey,” you finally spoke up, the softness of your voice causing your words to be barely audible over the loud white noise surrounding you. “did you just come from work?”

“yeah, i was walking home, and then the rain came out of nowhere.”

though you two were just trying to make conversation and avoid any awkwardness to the best of your abilities, and you should be trying to leave anytime now to aid your healing and not press deeper into that wound, both of you seemed to be stuck because sunghoon’s empty hands and drenched body was enough to tell you he wasn’t carrying an umbrella on him either. 

you hummed at his answer to your question, fidgeting with the tips of your fingers to look like you were at least occupied with something—but if you were being honest, it was to avoid his eyes because you knew looking into them wouldn’t do any good for your still-broken heart.

however, you couldn’t help but notice from the corner of your eye that he was moving around unnaturally, trying to do anything to regain some lost body heat. you turned to face and look at him to find that he was shivering. if only he was more responsible and reliable to at least look after himself and bring a jacket. 

you shook your head. this won’t do.

“come here,” you told him as you walked over and quickly grabbed his shaking hands and shoved them into the jacket you were wearing—again, it was thin, but something was better than nothing.

catching him off guard, he tensed as his eyes widened, unsure if he should pull his hands out from your grasp or if he should let you do your thing. after all, you always had a knack for looking after him when he couldn’t do it himself.

“you’re freezing, hoon,” you scolded, but from the worry in your voice, he could sense it came from a place of love. a love that remained in a place where it should no longer be welcomed. but moving on was much easier said than done, especially when it came to someone as special to you as sunghoon. “why didn’t you bring a jacket?”

“the weather was supposed to be clear and sunny today,” he answered.

“you’re kidding, right?” you said in disbelief. “did you even check the weather app today?! hoon, everyone in this entire city knows how much it’s supposed to rain this week! what’s your real reason?”

“i forgot it at home—”

“hoon—!”

“and here you are nagging me like you always do, even when we’re not together anymore. i thought it’s called a ‘breakup’ for a reason!”

at his piercing words, you furrowed your brows angrily, throwing his hands back aggressively.

but deep inside, he could see through you and all your emotions. he knew you so well that the faintest glint in your eyes was enough to tell him how much his careless words hurt you.

if he could take back what he had said, he would. but what’s said is done, and it was something he’d leave regretting for a very long time.

he didn’t even know how he let those insensitive words slip out. he was just so hurt by the breakup that he began to explode from the inside out.

but after realizing what he had said, he knew taking it out on you would help nothing and only be destructive, if anything.

“sorry, i shouldn’t have said any of that,” he started. “i didn’t mean it.”

“really, hoon?” you asked with a roll of your eyes as you shook your head.

he opened his mouth to speak, but gave up, knowing there was a high chance he’d just make things worse by talking. so instead, with a sigh, he walked towards you, and passed you, into the convenience store.

you scoffed and finally teared your eyes away in shock and frustration at the sheer amount of disrespect this man had. you couldn’t even believe you ever dated him!

after this, you told yourself for the 86th time that you were officially over park sunghoon.

you looked back up into the endless sky and hopeless weather, frowning.

what on earth were you going to do?!

not even a minute later, you heard the door to the store open, and you turned around to meet the source, and there stood sunghoon with one umbrella in hand, as well as your favourite convenience store snack when you two were dating, pepero. 

he remembered.

you shook your deceiving thoughts out of your head; being the forgetful man he is, he probably didn’t remember, and instead just got something for himself for the walk back home. he finally had his umbrella after all.

“here,” he spoke up, holding out the unused umbrella to you.

“what are you doing? why are you giving this to me?”

“just take it,” he urged. and just as he could see right through you, you could sense the care in his actions and even through merely the tone of his voice, as much as he tried to disguise it. “i bought it for you.”

“what about you?”

“just take it.”

“why didn’t you buy one for yourself?”

“this was the only one left—now will you just take it already?”

“how are you going to get back home, hoon? you can’t go through all this without getting even more drenched than you are already. you’ll get sick,” you explained before an idea suddenly popped into your head, knowing you both were aware your house was just a few minutes walk away. “let’s go to my place. we can get you warmed up and then i can send you home with the umbrella after. that way we can both get home safely.”

he thought about it for a moment and wanted to decline, but he couldn’t help but give in, letting you know he agreed with a nod.

you gave him a slight smile before he opened the umbrella and held it over the two of you.

little did either of you know until he did, how small the item above you was. in order for you both to be covered, you had to practically huddle in each other’s arms; the last umbrella in the convenience store was a single-person one.

so you two continued on the path to your house with your bodies pressed against one another and a very awkward and uncomfortable tension filling the surrounding air.

to make the trip easier on you though, without your knowledge, sunghoon, making sure to keep the umbrella 100% over you, did separate from your body just a little bit.

sure he had his slip-ups here and there, but he still cared for you and did his best to make sure you were comfortable the best he could.

the only thing was, that you weren’t his anymore and he shouldn’t be thinking about these things in the first place.

with a sigh, he continued to push forward in your journey to your home.

finally, you arrived to the warmth of your living space, a shiver rushing down your spine at the satisfactory change in temperature.

you looked at sunghoon who was in the doorway, somehow more sopping wet than he was when he first met you at the convenience store earlier that night. but you didn’t think much of it and shrugged it off.

“i’ll get you a change of clothes,” you told him. “in the meantime, go wash up.”

“a change of clothes?” he asked, confused. “where? how—?”

“i—” you paused, not knowing how to explain to him how you missed him and missed the way he would lend you his clothes to wear whenever you’d want, and how buying men’s size clothes was a way to help you (not so healthily) cope with the breakup. “they're a relative’s.”

“ah,” he let out in realization, not thinking much about the fact that you don’t really have male relatives you’re close enough to let stay over at your place or lend you any clothes. he was a forgetful one after all.

with a moment of awkward silence, you quickly rushed away to get the clothes in your room, leaving him to go to the bathroom himself—not that it was a difficult task to begin with. he had been to your place countless times during the time you dated anyways.

on his way, he took a brief look around, trying his best to not be too nosy, and he realized not much had changed since the last time he was over.

“here’s some clothes and towels,” you lended from behind him, causing him to turn around. “you can dry yourself off for now, and i can help you wash your hair.”

“you actually want to help me wash my hair?” he asked, stunned.

“oh—i mean, no,” you chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of your head. “sorry, i guess it’s just a habit.”

while you and sunghoon were dating before, something you would do for him whenever he was stressed or needed to relax was help him wash and dry his hair. and for some reason—maybe it was your tired brain after a long day—the words somehow slipped. who was the forgetful one now?

“i mean—if you want to, you can,” he expressed.

“do you want it?” you asked, hesitant.

no one knows what strange magic was in the air, but somehow you two were willing to take risks you both knew you shouldn’t considering the relationship you were no longer in. but he answered the way he did anyway.

“sure, that would be nice.”

nervously, you nodded. it seemed like he wanted it just as much as you.

“change out of your wet clothes first. i’ll get the water running,” you instructed, and he replied with a hum, taking the items out of your arms and walking to a different bathroom to change.

with a heavy inhale and exhale, you carried on your said duty.

after a couple minutes, sunghoon showed up behind you who was at the tub making sure the water was warm enough. he cleared his throat to make you aware of his presence, causing you to whip your head around. however, once you caught an eyeful of him, your head shot right back around, body tensed and unsure what to do.

“what?” he questioned with a chuckle. “it’s not like you’ve never seen me shirtless before.”

“why don’t you have a shirt on, hoon?!” you asked in a panic as you covered your eyes.

“stop overreacting,” he laughed. “we’re washing my hair, it’s easier this way.”

composing yourself with a deep breath, you nodded and faced him with more confidence this time. you waved him to come closer and kneel in front of the tub so you could get this over with, taking a great deal to not look at his toned chest and abdomen displayed directly in front of your eyes.

and you began, starting with wetting his hair, followed by the usual shampoo and conditioner. you massaged the products in before quickly rubbing and washing them away, and sunghoon then realized how much he missed this. these actions were enough to remove all of this week’s past stresses, one being still coping with the loss of you. and this intimate moment was enough to make him feel like you were together all over again—

from where sunghoon was leaning over the bath, he suddenly shot up, scaring you so much that you practically jumped from where you sat.

“what are you doing?!” you freaked out, caught off guard.

he stared at you, chest rising and falling violently with every breath. again, you did your best to keep your eyes matched with his and to not look any lower than that.

“this is wrong,” he explained. “i don’t think we should be doing this.”

you backed off a bit before apologizing, “yeah, you’re right. sorry if i made you uncomfortable.”

“it’s fine,” he said. “you’re not the only one at fault. i’m sorry too.”

and through his words, you could understand how that deep down, he wasn’t just talking about right now, but he was expressing his regret for everything he did before that led you two to where you were now. he felt that if it wasn’t for him and his past behaviour, maybe you would still be together in a happy and healthy relationship.

you closed your eyes as a deep frown started to form uncontrollably, and you turned away once a tear escaped and rolled down your cheek.

“y/n,” sunghoon said softly and sadly. it broke his heart just as much as yours to see you like this.

it was then that he realized he wasn’t the only one who was having a hard time moving on.

his hand moved to your arm cautiously, and after testing it was okay with you after you didn’t bother shaking him off, he rubbed your skin gently, up and down in a soothing manner and comforting attempt.

but his actions only caused your thoughts to travel deeper and rubbed in the fact that you weren’t together anymore. it only made you weep harder.

at the heart wrenching sounds of your cries, he immediately pulled you into his chest, and you were met with his bare skin and not so soft body, instead a little bit more muscular than what you remembered and were used to. but you didn’t mind.

your sobs quickly slowed, and eventually you were okay enough to finally pull back, and you laughed slightly, noticing how your tears painted his body and blended in with the water droplets that fell from his hair.

“ew, sorry,” you said as you wiped the wetness away with your hands until you realized what you were doing.

you were there sitting in his lap, his arms wrapped around you as your hands roamed his bare chest. not a common sight to see between ex lovers.

you stopped in your tracks and looked into his eyes that already stared back at you, and you quickly admired how breathtaking he was with his wet locks that framed his features perfectly. but his next words escaped his lips, calling you back to some form of reality, and leaving you in shock.

“i still love you, y/n.”

your heart immediately dropped like a heavy weight to the pit of your stomach—but somehow, not in a negative type of way.

you sniffled before following in a slight hush, “i still love you too.”

a wave of relief washed over sunghoon at the sound of that, and a smile rose to his lips, painting a lovely picture over his features that had your heart doing flips in your chest, until his face dropped. 

“i’m sorry for everything i’ve ever done to hurt you,” he began. “i understand the reason behind the breakup, and i’ve had a lot of time to process and reflect on it. i also tried so hard to move on, but for some reason, i still think about you every day, and you’re always occupying my mind and every thought.”

you stared at him intently as he continued.

“i understand why you broke up with me, but if you give me another chance, y/n, i promise i will try my best this time to do better—and be a better man for you—and look after you because you’re the only person in my life that i care for this much. and i realized that being careless enough to lose you was the worst decision i’ve ever made. if you’ll just give me one more chance, i won’t waste it this time. i was a fool to ever think losing you would be okay because ever since i did, i’ve been nothing close to fine without you.”

you let out a soft sigh, bringing your hands to his wet strands and brushing through the locks before circling them to cup the sides of his face and brush your thumbs over his cheekbones.

“and this is the reason i should have never let you go,” you stated softly. “i know you’re willing to improve, and i also know how much of a mess we’ve been without each other. it feels like the world is pushing us back together, and if i’m being honest, i don’t think i have a reason not to listen.”

“so does that mean—?”

“let’s get back together, hoon.”

“yeah?” he said with a growing smile.

you nodded as your expression began to mirror his.

“i missed you,” he let out as he pulled you into a hug.

you closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling your nose into the warmth of his neck as you savoured the moment.

“i really missed you, hoon.”

but before this could last long, suddenly a gasp left sunghoon and he pulled away, “wait! i almost forgot!”

oh, how very on brand of you, you thought to yourself with a chuckle.

he separated from you as he stood up and quickly rushed out of the bathroom, coming back moments later with something in his hands.

it was the pepero he picked up from the convenience store.

you smiled.

he opened the pack and quickly pulled one out before handing it to you. you accepted it and brought it to your mouth, savouring the flavour that you didn’t realize you missed so much.

you hadn’t had one since the breakup in fear that it would only bring back memories that would hurt you more.

but now, it felt nostalgic and comforting.

when you finished the piece, he pulled another one out and propped it between his teeth before letting go of the other end and smirking at you.

you scoffed playfully, “seriously?”

“what?” he asked you innocently with the pepero between his teeth and a shrug.

you giggled before finding the other end with your own mouth and quickly chomping away—him doing the same—before you both met in the middle, smiling into a kiss you each didn’t know you desperately longed for.

and he couldn’t stop kissing you.

but oh, how you missed his lips on yours.

with your arms moving to wrap around his neck, you pulled him closer by the back of his head, cherishing this special, intimate moment.

eventually, you both separated, breathing heavily to catch your breath.

and so sunghoon, still craving that sense of connection, resorted to pulling you back into his chest in a tight embrace that almost stole your hard earned breath away.

you learned sunghoon was an essential to your well being, and you knew your heart couldn’t carry on without him. you longed for each other like soulmates destined to be by the universe.

you breathed in his comforting scent, arms wrapped tightly around his body as you reminded yourself to never ever let him go again.

a/n. the pepero scene at the end was unnecessary but v necessary at the same time djdjdjd also didn’t know how to end this one but oop anyway i hope y’all enjoyed <3 it always means a lot if you let me know you did with some kind words, even if you show up on anon to do so, those mean the world <3 thanks for reading everyone <33

event masterlist.

taglist 1 (taglist 2 open). @raimbows4u @beibybtch @sultrybaby @kpop-nct @beans-and-jeanes @wccycc @enhacolor @enhasfever @nokacchan @yizhoutv @xiaoderrrr @soobin-chois @tyunni @shinsou-rii @liikno @softkpopplace @belle643 @nar-nia @rapmonie2047 @pshchives @sunjakes @ethereal-engene @exohclipse @yeosayang @4ri-ki @jaeyunjakesim @tnyhees @enaus @hoes4hoseok @palajae @clarakyunisageek @annoyingbitch83 @mirula @rcrystallocks @stepout-09-15 @zeraaax @enhasengene @ktttwwn @pistachiophobia @svnoofy @sweetjaemss @vatterie @mnsnts @chacottone @yeseoist @azurez @milisabunny @wonniestars @rikislady

[blackdollette]

happy (belated) birthday to me!

"eat my birthday cake, take all your clothes off." | spencer reid

madly. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: what better way to end your birthday than stuffing your face?...

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden @emma-e-a @bellasprettywords @hiireadstuff

⊹₊⋆ pairing: celebrant!bau!female!reader x spencer

⊹₊⋆ word count: 1,111 (lucky number!)

⊹₊⋆ contents: fluff, smut, cunnilingus, squirting, fingering, overstimulation

a sheepish knock came from the wooden door of your office.

“does the birthday girl have a minute to spare?”

you sluggishly spun around in your chair, eyes landing on spencer’s figure peeking in. a little smile tugged at your lips. it had been a long, stressful day. half the team didn’t even know it was your special day, but you could leave it to spencer to be that shining light at the end of the tunnel.

“nice birthday hat.” you remarked, staring at the rainbow spiraled party hat that sat on the crown of his head. a smile lit up his face in response.

you beckoned him to come inside, signalling for him to shut the door behind him as he held out a plate to you, holding a large slice of your favourite cake with a lit candle on it. your mouth dropped in a flattered grin as you accepted it, setting the plate on your lap.

“thanks, spencer. i appreciate this.”

spencer shrugged, his hands shoved in his pockets. “i meant to drop it off a few hours ago, but you seemed so caught up with work and everything. i figured, now that you’re alone, why not just give it to you now?”

you nodded, watching as he scanned the area once more to make sure the coast was clear. it was 11pm, but he didn’t want to take any chances. after a meticulous peek through the window, he shut the blinds and took your hands in his, gracefully bringing you to your feet and bringing a secure hand to your waist to ensure your balance, his lips finding yours in a polite but thirsty kiss. 

you sighed softly into the intimate display of affection, your hands finding the back of his hair and tangling themselves in his chestnut-brown locks. he held your waist in a close, unyielding grasp, his tongue sinfully meeting yours in a silent battle. it took all your willpower to not tear his clothes off and let him have his way with you right then and there.

spencer passively pushed you back down to the chair that you had originally been seated on, standing in front of you with a furious blush covering his cheeks. he cleared his throat, going down on one knee so he was level with your chest. he looked up at you, his doe-like eyes nearly manifesting a pleading expression.

“you… don’t mind if i give you your present right now, do you..?”

you pursed your lips, wiping away the thin string of saliva that dripped from them with your thumb. “go ahead, spence…”

he nodded, his hands resting on your thighs and kneading the flesh softly. “i’ve been practicing all week for you…”

his fingers crept under the fabric of your tight, short black skirt, starting to pull it up just enough to reveal your panties to him. he wasted no time running his thumb up and down your clothed crotch, giving you those eyes the entire time. it was like he wanted you to run absolutely mad tonight.

he began to pepper sweet little kisses onto you, forcing your legs further apart and feeding on the noises of your quiet mewls. the teasing was quickly getting to your head, making your body jitter in response to his touch.

he slipped a finger underneath the thin fabric, pulling it to the side and sighing at the sight of your swollen, wet cunt. 

“well, would you look at that… and i haven’t even gotten started yet.” he whispered into your pussy, his mouth connecting with your lips in an open-mouthed kiss down under. a strained squeal escaped your throat, your hand finding the back of his head and gripping it loosely.

spencer’s fingers dug into the plush skin of the back of your thighs, kneading the flesh in his grasp as he flicked his tongue on your puffy clit. your back arched in the seat, your vision starting to go slightly misty. you had to admit, he was way better at this than he let on.

“...s-spencer… i-i..”

as you began to request for him to pick up the pace, he darted his tongue in and out of your tight hole, groaning contently at the taste of the honey between your legs. at this point, he was doing it more for his enjoyment than yours. his tongue greedily flicked against your entrance, a shit-eating grin plastered on his saliva coated-lips. as far as he was concerned, this was paradise.

you squirmed as he jutted his tongue in and out of you, your hand starting to push him away as you felt your intestines tightening up. he departed his lips from your cunt, panting heavily as he struggled to speak.

“c’mon, baby… lemme do this. you deserve it…”

he clung on to you even tighter, making your legs wrap around his neck as he feasted on you like you were his last meal. you were so aroused that you hadn’t even noticed when he slipped his fingers into your sopping wet hole.

he curled his digits inside of you, his fingers pressing against your bladder as his wet lips tugged at your clit. he was desperate to have you saturate his pretty face with your fluids. and it was only a matter of time before you did just that.

“spencer..!”

you wailed as his fingertips began abusing your cervix. and that had done it. before you could do anything to stop yourself, you were gushing and creaming and squirting all over his face, your body succumbing to his passive dominance. like a starved dog, he hungrily fed on every last drop, pumping his fingers in and out of you rapidly to summon yet another waterfall.

he made you orgasm again and again, not reaching true satisfaction until your juices poured down his neck, drenching his uniform in an artfully messy way. he exhaled deeply, standing up and wiping off his dripping hands on his pants. meanwhile. you had melted into the seat, struggling to compose yourself after the brutal overstimulation.

he smiled slightly, extending a hand to you to help you up. you shakily took it, allowing him to pull you back to your seat. your knees were practically trembling and your panties were hanging loosely at your ankles.

spencer slowly fell to his knees, gingerly pulling them back up and patting your hips gently afterward, ignoring the obvious wetness in between your legs. he got back to his feet, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a tight hug, whispering as tears began to prick your eyes.

“...i hope you liked the gift, baby. you deserve it.”

author's note: this was meant to come out yesterday but I hope yall enojyed!!!

[creampuffqueen]

darlin', oh, you see i've never felt this way before

Yangvik Week Day 6: Jealousy

Summary: Yangchen knows that Kavik is handsome. She just didn't expect to feel so possessive when other people notice the same thing.

Word Count: 3811

CW: sex jokes, innuendos, implied/referenced sex, people being very openly thirsty

(will be posted to ao3 later)

~~~~

The Western Air Temple still smells like home. 

Sitting on the edge of one of the large stone platforms that form the temple, Yangchen takes a deep breath in, the thin mountain air settling deep into her lungs, wrapping its way around her heart. It’s still the same as she’s always remembered, the same she’s longed to breathe throughout her journeys across the world.

There’s a holy day coming up, the main reason Yangchen has come. The temple elders reached out to ask her to lead the ceremonies, to provide the blessings and prayers for the temple. 

Yangchen never minds giving blessings. But it’s a special honor to be asked to do so for her home.  

It’s early, but the temple is already full of life. Yangchen herself has just finished with a dawn meditation session, and now everywhere around her is bustling with activity. Brooms sweeping across the floors, nearby bison grumbling for their morning treats, nuns chatting as they carry supplies from one corner of the temple to another. 

And down on the floor below, a sound that brings a grin creeping onto Yangchen’s face: the gasps and giggles of a group of children utterly enthralled by something. She’s pretty sure she might know why.

Pushing herself to standing, Yangchen grabs her glider to pop it open with a satisfying snap. Her hand settles over the worn wood, fingers falling into a practiced grip. Leaping directly into the open air is as thrilling as always, her body naturally knowing which way to turn to catch the familiar air currents. 

She supposes she could just fly down to the next floor, letting her glider and her airbending catch her fall. But where would the fun be in that? She can’t resist making a few extra turns and spins, reveling in all the free space to fly around. It’s so nice to use her glider somewhere that’s designed for it. 

Eventually, though, she lets herself drop from the air until she’s on solid footing once more, landing with soft feet and fluttering robes, glider staff falling closed once more. She wants to see what all the commotion is about. 

The sight she finds brings a broad smile to her lips: a group of young girls, all around the ages of six to eight, stand gathered before a waterbender, fascinated as they watch him weave a complicated pattern of strings between his fingers. 

Kavik, for his part, looks absolutely thrilled to have amassed such an audience. His hands twist, strings looping over his knuckles, until he brings them apart to show off the design he’s created. 

“This shape is called ‘the polecat-wolverine’.” The little girls ooh and ahh, eyes wide. 

Glancing around, she notices that a few more nuns have gathered to watch, likely just as intrigued about the noise. The approaching holy day means that Air Nomads from all over have returned to the temple to help prepare. Rather than just children and the elderly, nuns of all ages are present - some of them that Yangchen even recognizes from her youth. 

It’s rare that outsiders visit for the holy days. Not that they’re particularly discouraged, but because most people from other nations are put off by the idea of hours-long meditation sessions, early hikes to sacred sites around the temple, and chants that seem to go on forever. 

But Kavik wanted to come. Yangchen told him she was headed to the Western Air Temple for a few days, and he’d packed his bags the same night.

“What?” He’d asked when she looked at him curiously, taking care to give her the most punchable expression he could manage, “You thought I wouldn’t come with you?”

Well, clearly he’s been made to feel welcomed. He untangles the string and starts on a new shape, blue eyes focused. The girls lean in, not wanting to miss a single loop. Yangchen remains off to the side, unable to contain her smile at the scene. 

A few more nuns take a pause from their tasks to join in. Though they stand near Yangchen, they don’t seem to take notice of her. 

At the temple, she’s just another airbender. Her orange robes and tattoos make her blend in, not stand out. It’s a rather nice change of pace, to not be the center of attention for once. She’s happy to let that task fall on Kavik’s shoulders for the time being. After all, he seems to be enjoying it. 

“He’s so sweet with the children,” One of the nearby nuns comments.

Kavik finishes with the new shape, presenting it to the gathered girls with an easy smile. “This figure is ‘the two boats’. See how the string forms the two men? Two men, two boats.”

“Another!” A younger girl trills from the crowd. She’s a tiny thing, clinging to the robes of another, taller child. The girls cheer, joining their sister in her request. Kavik looks only too happy to oblige them. 

“He’s good with that string - I bet he’d be good at weaving.” The same nun murmurs to her friend, “Perhaps we should try and get him on the loom while he’s here.”

“Yeah, I bet he’s good with his hands,” Her friend replies, giggling. “Look how fast he can move his fingers; I’d like to see those in action.”

The first nun elbows her, laughing. “Tsewang, you can’t just say that!”

That only makes Tsewang giggle more. “Like you’re any better! Don’t think I didn’t catch you checking out his backside during breakfast!”

Oh. Yangchen realizes with a sudden, uncomfortable clarity, They think that Kavik is attractive.

She can’t blame them, really. It’s one of the first things she noticed about him: that the thief caught red-handed in her room was almost unfairly good-looking. 

Still, she finds herself with a strong desire to move away until she can’t hear the rest of this conversation. She can’t blame them for thinking Kavik is attractive. But that doesn’t mean she wants to hear it said out loud. 

—

By the afternoon, she’s nearly forgotten about the whole event. There’s plenty of work to be done: the temple needs to be cleaned from top to bottom, food needs to be prepared, water needs to be hauled from the mountain spring to perfume it en masse. She may be the Avatar, but while she’s here she’s just Yangchen, and is expected to help out accordingly. 

Not that she minds, of course. She’s happy to help, happy to feel the ache in her arms from hours of hard work. Her heart will always long for the air, but for now she’s happy to feel grounded. 

She hasn’t seen much of Kavik since this morning. Abbess Dagmola put him to work in a different area of the temple, and even the most powerful being in the world is subject to the commands of her temple elder. 

Yangchen and a group of her sisters are cleaning up one of the lower floors of the temple, close enough to the canyon they can catch glimpses of others traveling through it, on their way to complete one chore or another. The floors have been swept, and now they’re up to their elbows in suds, polishing the stone until it shines. 

To pass the long hours, the nuns have been singing. Versions of prayers and chants put to a tune, old fairytale songs they remember from their childhood, even a randy sailor’s ditty one of them picked up from their time on the coast. It’s been distracting enough that Yangchen has been able to ignore the growing ache in her shoulders.

She rocks back onto her heels, wiping the sweat from her forehead and glancing around to observe their work. They’re nearly done, and then it will be on to shaking the dust from the many tapestries hung from the vaulted ceilings. 

A low whisper, punctuated by a muffled snicker, draws her attention from her sponge and bucket. A trio of nuns - slightly younger, judging by their short hair - stand perched at the edge of the floor, tittering between them like a flock of sparrowkeets. 

Yangchen heaves herself to her feet, wincing as her joints pop and groan in complaint. She wanders over to the gathering, trying to figure out just what could leave them so transfixed. One of the girls still has a dripping sponge in her hand, the water steadily soaking the hem of her robes. 

Then she peeks down into the canyon and everything becomes so much clearer.

The abbess must have sent Kavik to help with water-collecting duty. It’s the only explanation that makes sense for why he’s standing below them, knee-deep and shirtless in the mountain spring. His arms move in a smooth, unbroken circle as he bends the water into waiting buckets. Even from this distance, the motion enunciates every muscle in his back and shoulders. 

Warmth spreads through Yangchen’s stomach, face flushing hot. Judging from the expressions of the girls next to her, she’s not the only one feeling that way. The three of them are practically drooling. 

“I think I want him to just… lay on top of me…” One says aloud, eyes wide. The other two laugh and shove her, at least until another speaks up.

“I don’t have any money, but I’d pay to lick the sweat off his biceps.” 

The third girl, the one with the sponge, screws up her face in distaste. “You two are nasty.”

Her sisters glance at her, unimpressed that she isn’t taking part in their game. A moment later, the girl relents with a roll of her eyes.

“His hair is cute, though. I bet it’s really soft.” She squeezes the sponge to her chest, sighing dreamily. “And those eyes…”

For some reason, it’s that statement that brings the same odd feeling back to Yangchen’s chest. She clears her throat softly, watching in amusement as the girls whip around, eyes widening as they realize they’ve just been caught slacking by Avatar Yangchen herself.

“Something interesting to see, girls?”

They scatter like leaves on the wind, dashing back to their buckets with pink-tinged faces. Yangchen can’t help the chuckle that escapes her throat.

She risks a second glance at the spring below the temple. Buckets filled, Kavik has stopped bending. He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead to clear the sweat. His other hand settles against his hip as his head tilts back, chest heaving from exertion. 

Yangchen heads back to her bucket before she can do something stupid. 

—

Dinner comes, and still the feeling remains. Yangchen ponders it as she eats her steamed buns, watching Kavik from across the table. 

As the Avatar and the Avatar’s companion, they both have seats of honor, allowed to eat with the temple elders. Kavik is the star of the conversation, entertaining everyone with the excited, intense way he tells his stories. 

She knows that Kavik is attractive. She doesn’t mind it being pointed out, really. She’s had him use it to their advantage plenty of times in the past, saving several missions just by sending him to flirt until they could sneak away. 

She doesn’t even mind the way the other nuns have been so open about their attraction and desire. It’s simply the way they do things at the temples; desire is a human emotion, nothing to be ashamed of.

Besides, she remembers her own adolescence in the Western Air Temple. Once, when she’d been about fifteen, she’d been granted a few weeks of respite after she mastered waterbending before she traveled to the Earth Kingdom to start the next portion of her training. During that time, a group of monks from the Southern Air Temple came to stay. They’d all been newly tattooed, eager to take on the world as masters.

The other girls her age had instantly declared themselves in love, which soon devolved into a competition of who could make the naughtiest joke about the young men without getting scolded by an abbess for distracting the class. Yangchen, who spent her free time writing fake letters to faker people, had neither the time nor energy to devote to desires of the heart and body. In fact, for many years she wasn’t entirely sure if she had desires of that kind. 

She did, however, manage to get in a joke about how one of the monks ‘handled his glider’ - more out of the wish to see the others laugh than for any real attraction to the man - that brought one of her sisters to tears in pure hysterics. 

So. She gets it. Really, she does. 

But that still doesn’t stop the strange feeling of… possessiveness that she’s been getting every time she spies someone eyeing Kavik up.

Even now, she can see the signs. All around are nuns surreptitiously sneaking peeks, whispering in each others’ ears ‘don’t make it obvious…’, pretending like they’re getting up for second helpings but going out of their way to pass by their table. 

A small part of her wants to just march over to Kavik’s seat and kiss him senseless, right here and right now. That’ll show them. She’s the one who gets to drag her fingers through his hair. She’s the one who gets to feel the way he moves on top of her. She’s the one who gets to experience all the other creative ways he can use his hands. 

Unfortunately, that would be bad etiquette. Not feeling too hungry any more, she settles for resting her head in her hands, listening to Kavik finish up his story between bites of food. He gets an uproarious laughter from a particularly good punchline, and his satisfied smile sends her heart fluttering. 

He catches her eye from across the table, looking to her as if to make sure she heard his clever joke. 

A different idea worms its way into Yangchen’s head. Perhaps if I show that he’s off-limits…

She smiles warmly in Kavik’s direction, crooking her finger at him in a subtle come-hither motion. He’s quick to oblige, standing up and circling the table to get to her seat.

“Do you want me to get you anything else to eat?” Clearly, he’s noticed her half-eaten plate. 

Yangchen leans in, bringing her lips closer to his ear. “No. But I would like you to come to my room tonight.”

Kavik jolts in surprise, blue eyes wide. She’s never made an advance on him in public like this. At least, not a real one.

She leans in again, warming her breath with firebending for good measure. “Midnight. Be there.”

His face turns a shade of red that Fire Nationals would be jealous of. All around, watchful eyes take in the scene: The Avatar, whispering something in her companion’s ear that’s turned him into a blushing fool, stumbling over both his words and his feet. 

Yangchen lets her smirk be seen throughout the room as Kavik makes his way back to his seat, eyes firmly affixed to the floor. The best plans always have a sprinkle of the truth.

The nuns of the Western Air Temple manage to find more interesting things to look at for the rest of dinner. 

—

Yangchen wakes up in shades, consciousness seeping into her bones with each exhale of breath. The pre-dawn light creeps through her window, casting the room in a soft, dreamlike haze. It’s so early that even the lemurs are still asleep. 

The heavy, comforting weight of Kavik’s arm is circling over her, keeping her tucked close to his chest. The bed in her quarters is only really meant for one person, but they’ve made it work. 

Under normal circumstances, she’d be rousing him awake at this time, ignoring his protesting grumbles to give him ample time to sneak back to his own lodgings. Emerging from the same room in the morning usually leads to more complications than they want to to deal with, so they do their best to avoid it. 

But this is her home. If there’s anywhere in the world that she can be seen with him by her side, really by her side, then it’s here. And, of course, there’s the fact that she did orchestrate this whole situation to specifically invite those kinds of speculations, in hopes that it might put a bit of a damper on all the ogling. 

Though she will admit, it’s a lot harder to feel threatened when the object of everyone’s desire in question just spent half the night on his knees for her. And is now tucked beside her in the bed, sleepy and warm and completely naked. 

More awake now, Yangchen lets her eyes roam over Kavik’s sleeping face. His dark hair is mussed and falling to his shoulders, and his lips stay slightly parted, letting each deep breath end with a tiny puff of air from his mouth. Her thumb comes to rest there, gently stroking across his plush lower lip. The slight touch is enough to hitch his breath, eyebrows furrowing as he begins to wake. 

Yangchen’s hand moves to his cheek, cupping his face in her palm. His eyelashes flutter, and then, slowly, his eyes begin to open, revealing those blue irises that steal her breath every time. 

“Hi there,” Kavik’s voice is low and groggy, with a slight rasp that makes Yangchen want to melt into a puddle of goo. 

He stretches, long and languid, yawning so widely that Yangchen can hear his jaw pop. His fingers tangle with those already on his cheek, bringing her hand to his mouth so he can begin to kiss his way up her arm, tracing the pattern of her tattoos. 

When his lips reach her elbow, he pulls away, landing his next kiss on her lips. “Is it time for me to leave?”

Yangchen returns his sleepy kiss with one of her own, pulling herself as close to him as she can manage. His arms wrap around her, just as eager for the closeness. “Not this morning, no.”

“Hm,” Kavik notes, voice still scratchy, “You’ve been acting clingy since yesterday. What’s going on?”

She nuzzles her face against his chest, letting the scent of him settle into her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He just hums, leaning forward to kiss a path along the shaved portion of her hairline. Yangchen sinks into the easy affection, pressing her nose into the hollow of his throat, starting up her own trail of gentle kisses. 

However, when she reaches the opposite side of his neck, something gives her pause. Kavik, feeling her freeze, pulls away to look at her.

“Why are you looking at me with that face?”

Yangchen isn’t sure whether she should start laughing or apologizing. Laughter quickly wins out, so much so that she has to slap her hand over her mouth to muffle her giggles. Kavik’s eyebrows climb up his forehead in confusion. “What? What’s happening?”

She wriggles from his embrace to go search for a mirror. Finding one stashed away in her bag, she returns it to the bed as Kavik sits up, sheets pooling in his lap. 

Her entire body shakes with laughter as she watches his expression go from confused to concerned to horrified in a matter of seconds, eyes nearly bulging out of his head. “Yangchen, what did you do?”

On one side of his neck, an absolutely massive bruise lays, nearly the size of her closed fist. It’s undoubtedly a result of their activities last night, and even more undoubtedly Yangchen’s fault. 

She’d only meant to leave a small mark, maybe two. The kind that could be easily healed or covered up. Admittedly, she’d been a bit excited to leave some kind of physical evidence that proved Kavik was well and truly spoken for.

Okay, so she went a bit overboard.

“I look like I lost a fight to an octopus-leech!”

Yangchen rolls her eyes at that. “Oh, come on, don’t be so dramatic.” She gestures to the nearby washbasin, and the pitcher full of water sitting next to it. “Think of it as an opportunity to get some healing practice in.”

Kavik laughs in disbelief. “How did you even make one that big?”

“I don’t remember you complaining so much when I was giving it to you.”

His face flushes a delightful shade of red at that. “You’re terrible.”

It’s too easy. “Not what you said last night.”

“Can you stop-”

“Not what you were telling me to do last night!”

Rather than fall further into her trap, Kavik shuts her up by tackling her into the bed, making her shriek with laughter when his hands dig into her sides to tickle her mercilessly. 

She lets him get away with it for a few more seconds before tapping out, smacking her hand on the back of his shoulder until he relents. He stays above her, both of their chests still heaving with laughter. 

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” 

She reaches up to touch the bruise, biting her lip to stifle her giggles. He doesn’t flinch when her fingers rub across it, so it must look a lot worse than it feels.

“I might have.”

Kavik rolls off to the side, settling his head back onto the pillow. “Why?”

“Did you notice everyone staring after you all day?” Yangchen brings her hand to his head, combing her fingers absent-mindedly through his loose hair. 

An amused grin appears on Kavik’s face. “Avatar Yangchen, were you jealous?”

She shakes her head, but can’t find the words to deny it. “I don’t feel like sharing you.”

Kavik’s eyes soften. “You don’t have to. You know that I’m all yours.”

She supposes she does, deep down. Still, his assurance feels like a beam of sun, light and warmth spreading over her heart. 

Cupping his cheek once more, Yangchen leans in to kiss him. Kavik wraps his arms around her, pulling her tight to his chest.

When they part again for air, she holds his gaze in her own, trying to memorize every shade of blue in his eyes. There’s so many things she wants to say, words bubbling in her throat, confusing half-sentences threatening to spill out. 

She settles for what’s easiest. “I’m all yours, too.”

Kavik just smiles, like he’s already known this forever. Of course he already knows. How could he not?

Avatar Yangchen belongs to the world before anything else. Yangchen will always be the Avatar; even in death her spirit will remain to continue the cycle. She holds the world’s biggest blessing and its heaviest burden. It will always have a claim over her. 

But right here, her world is just this: the blue of Kavik’s eyes, the safety of his arms, and the love that she can feel pouring out of his very being. 

Yangchen kisses him again, and knows he can feel the way it pours from her, too.

~~~~

(a/n: idk how but my silly jokey fic ended up becoming a soft confession fic. sometimes i surprise even myself lmao)

[depravitycentral]

Haikyuu Dick Headcannons Pt. 3

Ft. the Seijoh men (Tooru Oikawa, Hajime Iwaizumi, Issei Matsukawa, Takahiro Hanamaki, Kentarou Kyoutani, Yuutarou Kindaichi, Akira Kunimi)

Tw: implied yandere, implications of stalking, lots of talk about cum, masturbation, oral, praise, a sprinkle of degradation, PSA Oikawa cries during sex, very slight misogyny in Kunimi's, fem reader, MDNI

Tooru’s cock is, just like the rest of him, pretty. It’s pale, slender, rigidly straight with a perfectly shaped bulbous tip that always makes this lewd schmuck noise when he pulls out of you. As he gets closer to coming his tip gets a little pink, but it’s nothing compared to the flush sitting high on his cheeks, or the rosy red of his lips. He’s got a single vein that runs along his underside, so it doesn’t marr the smooth appearance but still gives you that extra bit of stimulation when he’s fucking you. It’s just an overall outstanding cock, and he knows it, too - he’s confident in his body in general, but this is particularly true in the context of his penis. He takes good care of himself, shaving and making sure to use expensive oils and lotions to minimize any ingrown hairs or razor burns. He even uses a special genital cologne, just to make sure he smells good too. (The scent is one he thinks you’d like - he’d brought you to a perfumery one time as a joke because he thought seeing you scrunch your nose at some of the smellier ones was entertaining, but he’d been keeping note of which ones you’d found agreeable when he shoved them at you.) He’s not terribly sensitive - particularly when you’re sucking him off, because while it feels amazing to have your lips wrapped around him, he’s gotten enough head through his life that he’s just jaded and too used to it to find it especially pleasurable. But being inside you? That’s a different story - he hasn’t actually fucked that many women, and as a result the moment he slips inside you for the first time he’s gasping, his eyes blowing wide and this strangled, vulnerable little noise coming from his throat. He still takes a while to come, but he’ll gasp and murmur praise in your ear the entire time he’s thrusting into you, because you just feel so good and warm and tight. 

He’s a shooter, and it makes this perfect, porn-worthy little arc as he throws his head back and moans your name. He doesn’t produce much in terms of volume, but it’s pretty runny, so it’ll often feel like there’s more there than there really is. His cum is very smooth; there’s no lumps or globs, and when he rubs it against your skin (because he likes seeing you covered in it, and he claims it’s good for your skin - rich in nutrients and makes you glow) it almost feels like a thin lotion. When he comes his whole body freezes up, every muscle going taut and tensing up as the pleasure overwhelms him. He’s still for a moment, but after the first initial wave he’s suddenly moving like a madman, his hips bobbing and thrusting wildly and unpredictably, desperate to get any last bit of pleasure they possibly can. He’s always clutching onto you, too, like he needs to ground himself or else he’ll get carried away by the pleasure. (This often leads to finger shaped bruises appearing on your hips and ass, sometimes even your breasts, and while he’s apologetic about it, he doesn’t feel bad.) He makes this high, airy sort of moan when he’s coming, and his eyes always shut tightly, his thin brows scrunching together and his mouth morphing into a sort of grimace. He looks like he’s in pain, but he’s not - it feels so, so very good, and he’s just trying to stop himself from moaning something stupid or crying. (He does cry sometimes, if the sex is particularly emotionally charged - the first time you tell him you love him gets him sobbing as he bends your knees up to your chin, plugging you full with his cock, and kissing you the whole time, whispering to you in a strained, broken moan I love you I love you I love you, fuck tell me you love me again-)

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you’re simply good for him, taking his cock and letting him do as he pleases with you. He likes when you’re receptive to his touches, and ideally you’d be spread out before him on the bed, your legs wrapped around his waist and your fingers alternating between running through his brown locks and scratching down his back when you’re getting close. He likes the way your cunt flutters around him, your walls rubbing him and massaging his length in a way that makes him breathless, and sometimes his arms even go a bit weak and he nearly falls down on top of you because you just feel too damn good. He likes when you thrust your hips in time with his, trying to get him in deeper and feel him to a much fuller extent. It makes him feel wanted, like he’s doing a good job of pleasuring you, and if you moan? Tooru’s gone, burying his face into your neck and moving from the languid, sensual pace he’d been fucking you at to a more purposeful, calculated one, aiming for that spot he knows you love with every snap of his hips. He especially likes it when you come on his cock - the way you clench down on him makes him light headed, and sometimes - when your orgasm is powerful enough - you squeeze him hard enough to force him out of your cunt, his cock still swollen and throbbing, your slick coating him while he watches you fall apart below him. He likes the way you spasm around him, and more often than not it lulls him into his own orgasm, spurting cum into you and gasping your name with his lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple. He just really, really likes when you willingly pull him closer and encourage him to fuck you deeper; it’s a surefire way to get him breathless and crying out your name.

He’s solidly five and a half inches, with dark hairs framing his base and naval. It’s the perfect shape, with a slight curve upwards that hits you just right when he’s got you spread out on your back, bulbous tip ramming into that spot over and over again. It’s incredibly easy to arouse him - his cock’s got a mind of its own, and often there’s blood rushing south from the slightest things, like you licking your lips (he can’t not imagine how they’d look around his length) or mindlessly playing with your fingers (they’d look so small against him, running along his chest and gripping around his cock; he bets you couldn’t even touch your fingers when you grip him). He gets hard embarrassingly quickly, and stays hard, even if he desperately tries to get rid of it. This causes quite a few awkward moments when he’s around you, and he tries to wear baggier pants whenever there’s a chance you might be present - just because every encounter with you more often than not leads to him popping a boner at least twice. He’s moderately sensitive, and particularly likes when you give his tip and base attention at the same time. He likes when you suckle at the head and lap your tongue up and down his slit, all while your fingers massage and grope at the juncture between his shaft and his pelvis. It makes him shudder, eyebrows drawing together, and gets his hips bucking forward slightly. Especially if you rub at the spot right above where his balls and shaft meet - it makes him actually growl. 

His cum is thick and pretty bitter, landing on your tongue and leaving a residue like thick oil. The taste is hard to get out of your mouth, unfortunately, and when you tell Hajime this he’ll immediately feel guilty for how much he likes to finish down your throat. After that, every time you suck him off he’ll come on your face - he justifies it as being less invasive of your wishes, and because it seems to actually be good for your skin. (One time you’d had a nasty pimple, and after a spurt of his cum landed on it, the next morning it disappeared.) It’s okay, though, because his favorite place to come is actually on you, specifically on your pussy. He likes pulling out at the last minute and finishing himself off, watching as cum dribbles onto your pretty lips, making an absolute mess out of you and leaving you all sticky and warm. He’ll run his fingers through it sometimes, staring with this look of awe, intensely enough that you’ll get embarrassed. His ultimate, though, is when your spread your lips for him, exposing your quivering, swollen little hole, and he comes all over that - it’s dirty, taboo, and it makes his possessive urges towards you calm down a bit because now you’re marked as his, and anyone else can see the globs of his cum that are pressed up right against your most sensitive, intimate area. Of course, though, if you want him to come inside, he’ll never say no. He’s a gasper, his breath always getting caught when he’s fucking you. When he first shoves himself inside, he’s gasping lowly and biting his lip, trying to control himself and hold back the orgasm that’s already dangerously close. He’s not too terribly vocal for the most part, but when he gets close to coming he’s stuttering out your name, each syllable punctuated with a grunt and a gasp, until eventually he’s coming, his eyes blowing wide and a strained slur of your name falling from his lips. He stares the whole time, unwilling to look away, and it’s not until the oversensitivity overwhelms him that he lets the moment end.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when he’s giving himself a pussy job, using - of course - you. In general, he’s utterly fascinated by your cunt - he’s always staring at it, and although he’s certainly no virgin, there’s something about your folds, specifically, that makes him salivate. He’s always trying to rut his cock against you, obsessed with the feeling of the most intimate part of you touching the most intimate part of him, and he wants nothing more than to have you spread out before him, your eyes blown wide and legs spread for him, pretty body on display for him as he fists his cock. He wants to run his tip through your folds, to collect all your slick and wetness at his head, watching the way it mixes with his own pre, leaving him a sticky, wet mess that shines and gleans in the light. He’ll grip himself at the base, harshly exhaling as he runs himself slowly, so damn slowly, up and up, letting himself dip deeper inside every few centimeters, just enough to tease both him and you. He’ll run himself all the up to your clit, muttering out a curse as his tip draws circles against your little nub, his slit feeling so sensitive and needy that it makes him crazy. When he’s doing this, he tends to murmur your name a lot, growls of how pretty you look, amazed comments of how you’re already so wet for him, and curses of how fucking tiny your little pussy are always slipping past his lips. He’s amazed by how he can possibly fit inside you - you look so small and tight, and his cock looks much too big in comparison, and the idea of stretching you out gets him gulping, his cock visibly throbbing. Eventually he’ll cave and shove himself in, apologizing through grunts that he just can’t hold himself back anymore, that he can’t keep teasing himself, that he needs to be inside you and feeling how warm and wet and perfect you are. He’ll come very quickly after doing this - it only takes a few minutes, and soon he’s groaning your name and spilling inside of you, spurts of hot, thick cum plugging you up while he breathes in your scent and basks in you.

He’s a tall man, and his cock reflects that - it’s long, easily six and a half inches, hanging so heavily between his legs that even when he’s fully hard, swollen and practically begging to sink itself inside of you, it’s only standing at about 120 degrees, too weighed down by it’s own size to fully stand up. He’s not especially thick, but he’s veiny, with the raised skin criss-crossing and feeling perfect when they rub up against your spongy, sensitive walls. He’s not too terribly sensitive, but he likes steady, consistent pleasure stimulation, like a constant pace when he’s fucking you, or when you bob your head steadily, tongue lapping at his underside with fervor. His tip is always a darker shade than the rest of his shaft, the color matching his balls, and Issei particularly likes when you pay attention to those two areas. He’s extremely sensitive when it comes to any sort of stimulation to his balls, and the moment that your fingers brush them or your tongue flicks at them, he’s groaning, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tells you to do that again, angel, fuck just like that. He likes when you suck on them, trying to fit as much of each one into your mouth as you can, and just the sight of your lips wrapped around one while you suck and thumb at his tip with your hand makes his head spin, his orgasm drawing closer and closer at an alarming rate. He has a thing for making you kneel below him, and he really likes to be the one standing over you - there’s something about the power dynamic that gets him harder than he’s ever been in his life, and when you look up at him all sultry and dirty like that, it takes everything in him to not force your lips apart and fuck your throat like an animal. (And sometimes, the urge is too strong - you’re left with a bruised throat and a hoarse voice, but everytime you talk to him like that it makes his expression darken, his cock growing hard once more and soon you’ll find yourself bent over the nearest surface, ass cheeks on display while he breaths hard and nudges his tip at your hole, determined to give you a bruised cunt to match your throat.)

His cum is thick too, but sometimes the consistency can be a little strange. It tends to glob up a bit, and because he dribbles when he comes, this can sometimes result in little spurts oozing out of his tip. The volume of cum is quite high, and because of this, when he comes inside you, you can really only describe it as him stuffing you full. (He’s seen your tummy swell before when he’s creampied you - you don’t really believe him, but he swears your stomach got bigger. And just the thought of that - that he stuffed you full enough to stretch that little pussy of yours out - is enough to get him growling and sucking dark hickeys into your neck, his possessiveness shooting through the roof.) He’s not especially vocal in bed, normally preferring to stay quiet and just listen to you, but as he gets closer his breathing starts getting really heavy, pants coming from his lips that sound more and more labored the closer his orgasm looms. Right before it hits, he’ll close his eyes and groan, the sound low and full of timber, making a shiver roll up your spine because it sounds so primal, like some sort of animal. And when he’s actually coming, he’ll groan again - except this time, it sounds vaguely like your name, the last syllable sounding upturned as the pleasure makes his mind scramble. His hips will slow down to nearly a stop when he’s coming, because he tends to get oversensitive really easily and he needs a moment to catch his breath. His eyes are closed the whole time, eyebrows scrunching together and looking a bit like it hurts, but the way his thighs tremble and the way his jaw goes slack tells you just how good you’ve made him feel. He prefers coming inside you, but as long as his cum gets inside of you somehow, whether that be in your cunt or down your throat, he doesn’t really mind. 

His favorite way for you to touch him is when he’s on his back, and you’re perched with your cunt over his face and your mouth over his cock. He’s a fan of the classic 69 position, because while it isn’t the most sexually satisfying option, there’s something that he finds really endearing about the idea of pleasuring each other equally. He loves the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and the combination of that plus getting to taste your cute little pussy leaves him light headed and aroused enough to throw you down onto the bed. He likes to get on his back and give you a look, hoping you’ll understand what he wants without him having to articulate it, but if you don’t seem to get the message he’ll grab you and manhandle you on top of him, a hand gently pushing your face down to rub against his cock while his tongue slips between your folds. He’ll admit that the position is a little distracting, because it can be hard to focus on pleasing you when you’re doing such a good job of pleasing him, but he’s normally able to stave off his orgasm long enough to get you falling apart on top of him. He’ll aim for your clit and will sometimes bring a finger up to gently rub and curl against your walls, anything to get you shaking and moaning his name. (Plus, if he gets you wet enough, your slick will actually drip down onto his face - he fucking loves this, because it feels like you’re showering him with evidence of how well he’s touching you, coating his face with your slick because you want him to know that what he’s doing is enough.) He likes the way you gasp and struggle to stay consistent around him when he’s touching you like this, and feeling your fingers tremble as they stroke him and squeeze at his balls makes him sigh and buck his hips slightly. If he gets close, however, and feels like he can’t hold off any longer, his free hand will come down and hold your head in place while he thrusts up into your mouth, balls slapping against your nose as he fucks your face to his heart’s content. He just likes the intimacy of this position, and you’ll find yourself in it very often - especially towards the beginning of your ‘relationship’.

He’s just barely over five inches, but he’s pretty thick. It’s girthy, and when you first see it, the first thing you think of is how the hell he’s going to fit something that wide inside of you. It’s always a pink rosy color, even when he’s not hard, and although he’s embarrassed at first, he actually really likes having domestic moments with you where you see his cock both erect and flaccid - it makes him feel closer to you. (Plus, it normally only takes mere moments for it to go from soft to hard when you’re involved, which is what tends to happen nine times out of ten.) He doesn’t do a very good job of grooming himself, and takes pretty much no time to actually shave or trim or anything of the sort. It’s a bit of a mess down there, but he showers often so it all smells good and is clean. He doesn’t want you to shave or trim either - he firmly believes sex should be natural, and he wants to see you as you are, not as you present yourself. He’s decently sensitive, and while he’s got a bit of experience, he can get overwhelmed pretty easily when he’s inside you. He twitches a lot, especially once he’s settled between your walls - you can feel him moving inside you, bobbing and spasming as he gets closer to his orgasm, and sometimes his whole body shakes in time with them. It’s nice, actually, because it makes it easy to identify what kind of dirty talk gets to him - the moment you let any sort of praise slip past your tongue, he’s twitching and throbbing inside of you, acting as encouragement to get you saying more, to tell him that he feels good and that he’s gonna make me come ‘Hiro, please please please! (Begging normally gets him throbbing, too.)

He shoots, and there’s quite a bit of force behind the stream - it feels like the perfect amount of pressure in a shower, and he’ll always force himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch the way it spurts out of him and lands in ropes on your pretty body. His cum actually tastes surprisingly sweet, given how poor his diet is. It’s on the saltier side, but it’s nothing too outrageous. (You told him that once and he made some joke about how it would make the perfect replacement for that salt shaker that always seems to run out. You didn’t find the joke particularly funny, but the thought lingers in his mind for a while, and suddenly he can’t stop imagining the way you’d look actually eating his cum, not even in a sexual context. The thought makes him flush and have to clear his throat, but he can’t deny the allure.) This is great news for you, because Takahiro loves to come in your mouth. There’s something so dirty about seeing his cum dripping from the corners of your lips, down your chin, your pretty pink tongue coming out to lick it all up - and oh, if you hum or moan at the taste? He’ll melt, a few droplets of whatever remaining cum his body can scrounge up landing on your face without any warning. He’s a moaner, and while it embarrasses him, his voice always gets high when he gets close to coming, sounding less like moaning and more like whining and whimpering. He’ll always try to bury his face in whatever surface is closest by, though he tends to prefer your breasts or the small of your back, whichever is accessible. The moment he’s actually coming, though, he’ll  always pull back to watch, because even being a fully grown adult man, he’s still in awe of how your body just seems to affect his, almost like you’re pulling the cum out of him with how hard he orgasms. 

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you ride him. He’s not necessarily lazy in bed, but he likes to watch you and let you do most of the work until he needs to step in. He’ll lay back with his head on some pillows and let you straddle him, your cute tummy and pretty tits on display as you slowly slide down onto him. He likes when you grind a bit on him first, your folds rubbing and massaging against his length, and if you watch his tip you’ll see a copious amount of precum oozing out, showcasing his steadily growing desperation to get inside you. Once you slip him past your tight entrance and he bottoms out inside you, he’ll sigh and pinch at your hips, his voice cocky as he tells you to get on with it baby, wanna feel you bouncing on me like a good little slut. It’s uncharacteristic, with how most of his tendencies in the bedroom tend to air on the more submissive side, but the moment you’re actually moving? Well, all traces of cockiness and dominance are gone - he’s gripping onto your thighs for dear life, eyes fixated on the way your breasts bounce and jiggle, maybe even smacking against your ribcage if they’re big enough. He likes the way he’s able to get deeper inside you like this, the penetration going further and making you cry out his name because you just feel so damn full. He’ll stare and watch you, his cheeks bright red, unable to focus on anything except your body and the way his orgasm is drawing nearer and nearer, and eventually he’ll get close enough that he needs to take control. He’ll sit up and wrap his arms around your waist, face pressed against your chest and maybe even a nipple in his mouth as he moves you up and down like some glorified sex doll. He’ll control your body fully, his own hips snapping up to meet yours in a crazed chase of his orgasm, until finally it hits, and he’s moaning your name and his balls are pulsing against your ass as warm cum floods you. He likes the vulnerability of this position, the way he can be touching so much of you at once, and because he gets to see all of you, even the parts of you that you try to hide in other positions. (Like that cute stomach of yours or the fat of your thighs.) You just look sexy, and the way you pulse and clench down onto him like a fucking vice when you reach your own high only spurs him on, desperation for round two and three and four hitting him like a truck.

He’s a little under five inches, but he’s mean with it. He doesn’t have much experience, but he’s nursed a small porn addiction for most of his life, and although he knows porn isn’t realistic, he can’t help but fuck into you with reckless abandon every time he’s got you naked in front of him. He’s not too terribly thick, but he’s veiny, to the point where he almost looks like those veiny dildos you can get online. His tip is extremely sensitive - swiping your thumb across his slit or squeezing at the head makes him splutter, his cheeks turning bright red as his hips jerk forward. It’s easy to turn him on, because he’s really bad at hiding when he’s aroused. Seeing you in anything form fitting will make him feel hot and have him alternating between averting his eyes and staring at every inch of you, but the real nail in the coffin for him is when you touch him in falsely innocent ways. Place a palm to his chest and smile at him and he’s immediately hard, or run your hand over his hair and he’s practically panting, unable to stop imagining the way you’d grip at his hair and beg him for more when he’s got his face between your legs. He gets hard easily, but he’s normally able to make it go away pretty easily too, but his face stays this rich red color and he gets more skittish around you than normal, so you’ll be able to tell ninety percent of the time. He’s actually pretty meticulous about upkeep - he’s not clean shaven but the hair is very short, perfectly trimmed so that you have unrestricted access to everything below his belt. He does this both because it makes him feel cleaner, and also because he wants to be as enticing to you as possible so that you’ll be more inclined to touch him. He’d gotten drunk one night in his early twenties and decreed that he’d be getting his dick pierced, and a buddy had gotten it on video, and he wouldn’t let his pride be wounded, so now he’s got a Prince Albert piercing on his tip. It hurt like hell, but he really likes the way it feels inside you - it makes him more sensitive, he thinks, and you always seem to squirm when you feel the cold metal, the extra stimulation making you moan and clench even harder around him. 

His cum is thick and there’s a lot of it. It doesn’t taste great, and the first time you tasted it you couldn’t help but grimace slightly. Kentarou noticed, and while he didn’t say anything about it, he’s been trying to alter his diet to include more foods he’s read help sweeten the taste of cum. He prefers to finish on your body rather than in you, but he’ll never not finish inside you if that’s what you want. Really, if you ask him to finish anywhere specific, he’ll do it in a heartbeat, excited that you want it. He just likes the way you look with it smeared across your skin - again, that porn addiction has left him with a bit of an objectification kink, and while he doesn’t view you as simply a toy for him to fuck, there’s something that quells his possessiveness towards you when he’s covering you with his seed. He tries to avoid coming in your mouth though, just because he doesn’t want to see you grimace like that again. When he’s fucking you, he doesn’t usually say much, but he isn’t super quiet - he grunts a lot, always sounding a little bit like he’s in pain, and he keeps his eyes tightly closed for much of it. He’ll mutter your name under his breath, too, but it’s quiet enough that unless his mouth is close to your ear you won’t be able to distinguish what he’s saying. But as he gets closer to coming, those grunts turn more into growls, and right as he’s on the edge, he’s literally growling your name, along with slurred fuck’s and yeah’s and too damn tight’s. He’s not too expressive, but if his orgasm is particularly powerful he’ll end up sinking his teeth into the skin of your shoulder - not enough to break the skin or hurt, but enough to leave a mark when he pulls away, and enough to muffle the moan that bubbles up in the back of his throat. His whole body tremors when he’s coming, everything from his fingertips to his toes trembling and shaking slightly, the force of his orgasm nearly blowing him away. It takes him a long time to actually finish coming once it starts, too - he comes so much that it just never seems to end, him emptying into you for easily twenty seconds before the last few drops finally come out. 

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you take your time and just absolutely worship his cock. He’s never been embarrassed of his body or anything, but he likes the idea of being soft with you, and while he’s just a bit too awkward to take the time and worship your body, he likes when you do it to him. (It’s not that he doesn’t want to worship yours - he does, absolutely, more than you could ever understand. But putting himself into that position where you’re watching his every move and judging him, letting him explore and pleasure you and do whatever he wants with you makes him nervous, the pressure settling on his shoulders to do well making him chicken out at the last second. But when it’s you worshiping him, he can just sit back and watch, letting you do your magic until he’s eventually gasping your name and getting cum all over himself as you fist him and press kisses against his thighs.) It feels like such an intimate moment, and it helps convince him that you actually like him, that you’re actually returning the love he’s so frantically forcing onto you. He wants you to keep eye contact the whole time, looking up at him from your place on your knees, his own body seated in a chair with his legs spread so you have easier access. He wants you to kiss every inch of him, your soft lips pressing against his thigh, balls, cock, navel, everything you can reach. He wants you to pump slowly, telling him how warm he feels in your hands, how he’s so big and makes you feel so good, the compliments flowing off your tongue like sugar and making his face turn bright red. He wants you to suckle on his tip and lick along his slit, teasing him with not quite enough pressure, telling him how good it feels when he brushes against that certain spot inside you that makes you see stars. He wants you to squeeze and touch his balls, telling him how these always make you feel so full, they fill me up so well, Kentarou, I love it when you come in me. He just wants you to praise him and touch him all softly and slowly, showing him that you really love him. Give him hope that his one-sided feelings might be more reciprocated than he seems to think.

It’s solidly five inches, and curves very slightly to the left. He’s confident enough with it, but Yuutarou finds himself wishing he was just a bit longer, just a bit thicker, just a bit more. He spends a lot of time looking at himself in the mirror, and especially once his feelings for you form, he’s always idly wondering what you’d think of him. It’s a pale color, and when he gets hard it turns a gradient of pink down to his tip, where it’s flushed and always swollen within seconds of blood rushing south. He keeps himself clean shaven because he doesn’t want you to be grossed out when he eventually has you in front of him, naked and yearning for his touch. He wants everything to be clean and attractive and perfect, because the first time he gets to touch you and fuck you, everything has to go perfectly. He’s decently sensitive, and he especially likes it when you pay attention to his base. Gripping him there and idly squeezing while you talk to him will make him breathless and light headed, his voice strained and tight when you ask him if he’s wanting to fuck me? Do you want that, Yuutarou? Do you want to make me a mess on your cock? You’re so dirty when you talk to him like that, but it drives him crazy - and when you grip him tighter and tighter and tighter, it only furthers the feeling. He likes it, too, because your hand almost acts as a sort of cock ring, barring him from accidentally coming much too early - something that’s happened often when he was still left to his own devices with only the thought of you and his pillow to work with. 

His cum is watery and there’s not a huge amount of it. He comes pretty easily, all things considered, but he has a decently short recovery time, and if the worst case scenario occurs (he comes before you), he’s immediately getting onto his stomach and diving between your legs, tongue eagerly working at your clit and his fingers slipping past your swollen folds to curl and rub at you until you’re moaning and clutching onto the pillow under your head. He’ll let himself calm down, and within five minutes he’s normally able to get hard again, and while this time he’ll likely be shooting a blank, he will keep fucking you until you come for him - and this time he’ll have his thumb working at your sensitive little clit the whole time, his pride out the window because he needs you to come, dammit. When he comes he makes this weird little half-shout half-groan, the sound loud and a little bit jarring. He tries to keep quiet for the most part during sex, because no matter how many times you try to tell him that you like his noises, he’s too embarrassed to freely let them out. Besides, he’d rather hear you anyways. But when he’s getting close, he does tend to start blabbering, his voice slurred and the words coming out so quickly that they’re hard to understand. He’s trying to get every thought out in those last few seconds before he comes, because he has all these compliments and sweet nothings that come to mind when he’s fucking you, but he’s too engrossed in the moment and nervous to actually say them, so he waits until the last moment and all you can hear is y’so tight ‘n good, ‘m gonna come in you, fuck let me come, y’so pretty when you’re drippin’ with me and fuck fuck fuck, here it comes take it take it take it-! He writhes when he comes, unable to stay still, his muscles flexing and relaxing over and over again, leaving him to shake on top of you and then promptly collapse onto you. He’s exhausted after he comes, but he’s still attentive to your needs, and even if he’s on the edge of passing out, he’ll make sure to get his fingers stuffed inside you and his lips on your nipples, absolutely anything to guarantee you’re feeling good. 

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you take control. He’s always a little doubtful of his own abilities, nervous that he’ll do something that you don’t like, even though you aren’t the first girl he’s slept with. He’s just a bit paranoid that he’ll make a mistake and eliminate any form of attraction you feel for him, and so he likes it best when you take the wheel, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him, leaning down to kiss him and suck hickies into his neck. He likes when you grind on him, your hips moving against his in circles, your very thin panties (that he’d picked out, with a red face, the last time he’d visited a lingerie shop, having bought a few sets for you after learning your panty and bra size) rubbing up against his boxers, the navy material already stained a darker blue with a copious amount of precum. He wants you to move his hands for him, your grinding never stopping as you situate his large palms against your breasts (already bare, your - his - t-shirt haven’t been discarded across the room), squeezing over his hands to encourage him. He wants you to slowly sink down on him, before setting up a brutal pace, bouncing on top of him with reckless abandon while you smile down at him and hold eye contact. He wants you to move his hands to grope at your ass, while you reach behind you to play with his balls, squeezing lightly and feeling the way he tenses up and warbles your name. He wants you to suddenly switch your positioning, so that you’re facing away from him, your ass exposed to his prying eyes while you roll your hips again, the new angle making access to squeezing his thighs easier. He just wants you to manhandle him, really, because while he may be well over six feet tall and is finishing up his collegiate studies, he’s nothing more than putty in your hands, eager to do anything and everything you want.

He’s roughly five inches, with a moderate girth. Overall, he’s thoroughly average - tufts of brown, curly hair sit at his base and a vein or two decorates his shaft, which slims out a bit as it extends, ending in a round, mushroom-shaped tip that’s always covered by pretty, pink foreskin. He produces a lot of precum, to the point where once you get your hands on him, you’ll be surprised to feel that it’s almost like he’s already slicked himself up with lube. There’s just so much of it - but that’s because once Akira gets hard, he stays hard. No matter how hard he tries to distract himself or will away his erection, it takes at least fifteen minutes for it to go away. Even after he comes, he stays hard for a while - he gets oversensitive very easily, so he’ll try to swat your hand away if you reach for it when it’s still coming down after his release, but secretly he hopes you’ll reach for it again because he’ll begrudgingly let it happen the second time, content and pleased that you want to keep touching him. He stays hard, but actually takes him quite a bit to get hard - even with you, the woman he finds so sexually arousing and desirable that it makes him sick sometimes, he has to have a good mix of stimulation and thoughts to get him ready to go. Generally, if you want to get his cock swelling up and turning a deep pink color, kiss his neck and palm over his crotch, whispering his name in the most sultry voice you can manage, maybe even flicking even lightly biting his earlobe as you whisper into it. He’s not too sensitive, and because of this he tends to last a long time in bed, to the point where if he’s really concentrated and you’re in the right mood, he’ll get you to orgasm at least three times before he gets close. He doesn’t groom himself all that much, figuring that if you really have a problem with it you’ll let him know, and while he keeps everything clean and sanitary, sometimes you end up with a bit of hair in your mouth when you’re sucking him off. 

He doesn’t produce a huge amount of cum, but it’s decent tasting, enough so that you genuinely don’t mind swallowing it. This is good news, because Akira really, really likes when you give him head. His favorite place to come is definitely your mouth, and the feeling of your lips and tongue against him are often the quickest way to get him to orgasm. He’s a fan of pushing himself as deeply into your mouth as he can and then releasing, so that all of it goes directly down your throat, because he likes the idea of his cum being in you, even more than just in your cunt. He’s also satisfied with pulling back and coming all over your face, because while it isn’t quite as satisfying as finishing in your mouth, there’s still something lewd and dirty about it, especially if you open your mouth and let your tongue loll out. He’s pretty quiet in bed, mostly just breathing hard or muttering commands under his breath - they’re never too harsh, just things like keep going or say that again. But when he comes, he takes this long, harsh inhale - it’s not quite a gasp, but it sounds too uneven and heavy to be a normal breath. He’s not one to moan too much naturally, but he tries to push down any sort of noise if possible because he doesn’t want to turn you off in case you don’t like it - even if you try to reassure him, he doesn’t really believe you, and he’ll still do the long-inhale-thing rather than let out the little whimper he really needs to. His whole body jerks when he comes, and this normally ends up lodging him even deeper into whatever hole he’s buried in, which adds extra stimulation to his already sensitive cock, making him hiss and grit his teeth. His face gets red as he gets close, too, and it’s a telltale sign that he’s feeling good when his cheeks start blooming pink, all the way down to his neck and over his collarbones. He gets sweaty, too, exertion and holding back any sounds taking a lot of effort, and often his bangs will get stuck to his forehead.

Akira’s favorite way for you to touch him is when you take his cock into your mouth. There’s something about the power dynamic that gets to him, because while he doesn’t inherently view himself as any better than you (he may not show it, but he worships the ground you walk on, if all the stalking and tedious collecting of your information are anything to consider), something just feels right when you’re suckling on him like that, your pretty eyes sparkling up at him through your lashes and tears pricking at your lash line every time you take him just a bit too far down your throat. There’s something endearing about the way that you take him so well, relaxing your throat and bobbing your head over and over, and he especially loves it when you get messy. He likes your spit to be everywhere, dripping down his shaft and onto his balls, dribbling down your chin, just getting everything wet and sticky. He likes the sight of you pulling back and panting hard, a thin strand of saliva and precum connecting his tip to your lip, the sight making him gulp and clutch onto the corner of the chair he’s seated in so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He likes the way your lips are so soft against him, how your tongue is wet and warm and so very dexterous, licking around his tip and dipping in against his slit. He just likes the way you give him so much attention when you’re using your mouth; it makes him feel special and pleased that all your time and effort is going into him, to please him and make him feel good. And if you were to reach down between your legs, your fingers playing with your clit while you bob your head and use your other hand to lightly grope at his balls? Well, hopefully you take getting your throat fucked as well as you do bobbing your head, because the mere sight will have him losing control and needing to fuck something, and your pretty little face is the nearest thing. 

[brass-tacked]

Looked to the sky (and said Please)

2.3K words, Buck x Eddie

Tommy’s gone. He barely even said goodbye. They were back on a sidewalk. This time they were supposed to be meeting for lunch. Tommy was 13 minutes late.

Buck had done his best not to panic as those minutes ticked by. He tried not to constantly check his watch. He tried not to think of worse case scenarios. He felt a gut punch breath push out of him when Tommy finally climbed out of an Uber. Buck was so relieved that he didn’t even notice when the Uber didn’t pull away. That Tommy didn’t even bother to close the door. He just leaned forward a little and proceeded to tear chunks of out Buck’s heart.

“This isn’t going to work, Buck. I need something else. I need more than you can give me.” His voice sounded clinical. His fingers were gripping the top of the car door.

Buck felt that breath of relief suck back into him. This time the oxygen was gone and Buck felt like he’d been breathing carbon monoxide. It felt thin and made his head spin. Before he could recover enough to move, to speak, to do anything, Tommy was gone.

…..

He didn’t remember what happened next. His mind a whirlpool of not enough, not enough, not enough.

Not enough not enough notenoughnot enoughnotenoughnotenough

Never enough.

Then Eddie was there. When he looked at his phone later he found that some part of his brain had been working enough to send Eddie a pin to his location. Apparently that was all the information Eddie had needed to drop everything and come to him. To show up like a guardian angel and sweep Buck into his truck.

They don’t talk. At least Buck doesn’t remember them talking. He does remember Eddie glancing over at him every time they came to a stop or there was a break in traffic long enough to safely take his eyes off the road. At one point Eddie reached over and put his hand on Buck’s knee, gave a little squeeze and then left it there. Buck remembers the heat of the it. The grounding it gave him. The oxygen coming back into his lungs.

…..

Not enoughnot enoughnotenoughnotenough

He’s in Eddie’s kitchen. Sitting in a chair and looking at all of the ingredients for sandwiches spread out in front of him. The lettuce looks like it’s started to wilt and the avocado is brown. Eddie is standing by the sink. Hands gripping the counter. Chris isn’t there.

Of course Chris isn’t there. He’s in Texas. Buck couldn’t get him to stay. He wasn’t able to do the one thing Eddie asked of him.

Not enough not enough not enoughneverenoughneverenoughnever

Buck must make a noise or do something because Eddie is now right there, kneeling next to him, and placing a hand on his shoulder. His thumb finding a home in that spot right between Buck’s neck and collarbone making small sweeping motions. Sometimes Buck thinks that Eddie’s thumb was specially made to fit perfectly in that spot. Or vis versa, maybe he was made to fit Eddie.

“What happened, Buck? Is it Maddie? Is she okay?” Eddie’s voice is soft. Almost a whisper. It’s like he’s scared Buck’s going to break. Eddie’s other hand comes up and sweeps across Buck’s cheek. That’s when Buck realizes that he’s crying.

“He’s gone.” That’s all Buck can get out. Even those words feel like they rip apart his throat on the way up.

“Oh, Buck. I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here if you want to talk about it.” Of course Eddie figures it out from just two words. Of course he does.

“There’s not much to tell. I just… I wasn’t enough.”

Maybe if Buck didn’t know Eddie so well he wouldn’t have seen the flash of anger in his eyes. Wouldn’t have noticed the clench of his jaw and the tightening of all the muscles in his body. They way the gentle sweep of Eddie’s thumb across his collarbone stuttered for a second and pressed hard against the bone before resuming its back and forth motion. But Buck did know Eddie.

Neverenoughneverenough

“Is that what he said? Buck, you have to know that’s not true.”

“Of course it’s true, Eds. I’ve never been enough. Not to anyone. I just, I ju- I can’t do anything right. That’s why they leave.” Buck’s voice cracks and stumbles. He can taste the salt from his tears. They taste so much like blood. All he can taste is Eddie’s blood mixed with the oil from the truck and the hot asphalt. The panic. The fear. He came so close to losing something so important, but at least that day he was enough. At least he thought he was. He’d saved Eddie. He’d saved his family. But in the end it still hadn’t been enough. “Of course it’s true. If it wasn’t, he’d still be here. He wouldn’t be… he’d be here.”

“If Tommy doesn’t want to be here? If he wasn’t smart enough to see how great you are? To know how lucky he was to have you? Then fuck him. He wasn’t enough for you.”

Buck can feel his eyes go a little crazy. Eddie’s words sending a new wave of wild emotions crashing through him. “Tommy? That’s not. Tommy doesn’t matter. I still, I still failed. I lost him.”

Eddie take a deep breath. His eyes searching Buck’s face and his other hand coming to rest on Buck’s other shoulder. Gripping him tight and holding him in place. “You gotta help me out here. I think we’ve got our wires crossed a little. If we’re not talking about Tommy, then who are we talking about?”

“I mean, I guess we are kinda talking about Tommy. He did leave me and say I’m not enough.” Buck lets out of small sigh before moving his eyes away from Eddie’s and standing up. Eddie’s hands fall away with the motion. Buck feels so cold. His mouth still tastes like iron. He can feel Eddie’s confusion as he steps away to get a glass of water.

Once he turns back around he still can’t look at his friend. His eyes instead stare through the walls like he has x-ray vision and can see straight into Chris’s room. Where he knows the bed is neatly made. The controller for his video game console is placed neatly on the bed stand on top of the novel his was reading. His placed marked with a bookmark Buck bought him at the aquarium two years ago. The lampshade has a light layer of dust on it. So does the dresser and the bed. Buck thinks he should clean it soon. Just in case.

Notenoughneverenoughnotenoughneverenough

A broken sound brings Buck’s focus back to the kitchen. It’s halfway been a whimper and gasp. It sounds a little like Eddie. Buck can’t quite bring himself to look at his friend.

“Buck no”

“I couldn’t do it, Eds. You asked me for one thing and I wasn’t enough. Chris didn’t stay. I couldn’t get him to stay.” Buck is looking at the glass gripped in both hands. Still full of water because he couldn’t bring himself to drink it. He didn’t deserve to drink he. He deserved to taste the blood forever. For as long as his family was broken.

“No.” Eddie’s voice is like steel. Like a command that Buck wanted nothing more than to follow, but he can’t. He doesn’t deserve to. “That’s not on you. That’s not your fault.”

Buck can’t respond. He doesn’t have any more words. He just shakes his head while staring down at the glass. It’s a Superman glass. His fingers run rubbing against the raised lines of the emblem.

“I never should have asked you to go in there. I was being selfish and I was scared. It was never on you to get him to stay.” Eddie’s in front of him again. He’s so close that Buck can feel the pulse of his body, the warmth of his breath ruffling against his hair. It’s so hard not to lean into that warmth.

“Buck, can you look at me?”

Buck wants to. He really, really wants to. He wants to look into those beautiful brown eyes and find forgiveness and all the things that Eddie has always given him, even when he didn’t deserve them.

“Please, just look at me.” Eddie’s finger hooks under his chin. He doesn’t push. Doesn’t force Buck to looks up, but just keeps it there.

It feels like a magnet as Buck shifts. His head coming up and his eyes seeking Eddie’s. It feels necessary and cosmic and ineffable.

“Buck all I really needed that night was for you to be there. I needed you next to me. My world felt like it was crumbling down and I did that to myself. I am the reason Chris left. You didn’t fail at anything. You being here, having my back? That was more than enough. You kept my world from breaking to pieces. Yes, Chris is in Texas, but I know he will come back. And you? You are more than I could ever ask for. More than I could even dream of hoping for. You’re everything.”

Buck feels warmth start to seep back into him. He’s still crying, just a little bit, but now the tears taste like saltwater again. He tries to fight a small smile from escaping because he’s still not sure he deserves to feel any happiness, but he can feel his lips start to turn up anyway. The smile grows bigger when Eddie’s thumb moves up and starts gently sweeping across his lips.

It feels like too much and not enough and like he’s about to explode as he stares into Eddie’s eyes. As he shivers from the sensation ghosting over his lips. He takes a deep, shaky breath and they’re close enough that their shoulders knock together and their noses brushing against each other.

The kiss feels so natural. Eddie’s lips soft and gentle. His thumb sliding away from Buck’s mouth and moving to cradle the back of Buck’s head. The feeling of Eddie’s fingers burrowing into his hair almost makes his legs give out. He reaches for Eddie to steady himself, wrapping his arms around the other man’s back. The kiss feels like an inferno. Consuming him. But it also feels like a mountain lake, cool and refreshing. It feels like the warmth of the sun in the early days of summer. It feels like being welcomed home.

He lets out a little laugh as the kiss ends. He can feel joy and hope and so much love bubbling through him. He wants nothing more than to keep on kissing Eddie forever, but he has to clear one thing up first. Even though it’s serious, he’s so happy that he can’t keep the smile off his face or the laugh out of his voice. “You know it’s not all your fault right? You never asked Kim to show up and pretend to be Shannon. Please tell me you know how crazy she was to do that?”

Eddie laughs too. Just a little one. He keeps his hands buried in Buck’s hair and gently knocks their foreheads together. “Yeah, I worked that much out with Frank. But that’s not important. You’re what’s important.”

“Did you work that one out with Frank too?” Buck’s smiling as his hands start tracing imaginary patterns on Eddie’s back. Savoring the moment and a little unable to believe it is happening.

“Yes, actually. Frank and I talk about you a lot. About how, besides Christopher, you’re the most important person in my life. About visualizing what happiness looks like for me and it had your face. About how to handle being in love with you while you were in a relationship with another man.” Eddie’s voice is so soft and vulnerable on that last sentence that it makes Buck’s heart squeeze.

Buck tilts his head back to swallow back the emotion that threatening to overwhelm him. The movement dragging Eddie’s nose down his cheek sending another shiver through his body and making his hands clench against Eddie’s back before Eddie drops his head to rest on Buck’s shoulder. He has to clear his throat a few times while gathering his thoughts before he can respond.

“The thing about Tommy, well, he was really just a placeholder because I didn’t think I could have what I really wanted.” Eddie made a wounded sound and Buck shushed him while tightening his grip on the other man’s back, pulling them impossibly closer. “I didn’t realize at first or I never would have started anything with him. Then Chris left and that hurt. I wanted to be here with you. I never wanted to be away from you. It made me realize some things too. I was going to tell him today at lunch that I couldn’t see him anymore. I wasn’t being fair to him. Not when I’m so in love with someone else. He must have figured it out for himself though because he broke up with me on the street before I could even say hello. I can’t blame him though. I know what it feels like to be the placeholder and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“I need you to know that you’re not a placeholder to me and I never want you to feel like one again.” Eddie says before turning his head and places a soft kiss on the side of Buck’s neck. “And Buck, I am the someone you’re in love with, right?”

Buck can tell that Eddie’s going for teasing, but there’s the faintest tremor in his voice that gives away his nerves. It makes Buck’s heart clench once more. He never wants Eddie to have doubts. “Yes, Eddie, I love you so damn much.”

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

Of Lingerie and Sirius Play

coming back from hiatus, have been traveling; will be filling requests but starting with this that was tumbling around my horny head; i'll write sfw stuff soon; enjoyy

pairing: Sirius x reader

word count: 4.8k (smut, smut, and more smut)

tags / warnings: NSFW!! (MDNI!!), established relationship, lingerie, sex, fem! reader, oral (f receiving, face sitting), p in v, slight insecurities, body worship, very explicit but still tender hopefully 

You were staring at yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that, second thoughts ebbing and flowing in your mind. You never wore things like this. Never. Sure, you had some bras and knickers that were more flattering than others, some that matched even. But nothing like this. 

You were worried that the strip of your thigh just above the stocking garters didn’t look nearly as good as it did on lingerie models. You followed the line of the straps that connected them to the garter belt with your eyes then lightly with your fingers. The belt was more flattering than the thigh-highs, the lace resting on your waste a bit more comfortably than on your thighs. You pulled the back of your bra down for the nth time in the last few minutes, trying and retrying everything you could to make sure the cloth clung to your body in the most flattering way possible. Your boobs had never looked better. You turned around (again) to look at your mostly uncovered arse, the bright colour of the thin line of lace contrasting against your skin. This you were less confident about than you front, but you were probably just being typically overly harsh with yourself. 

You wanted to surprise Sirius; no special occasion, you just wanted to do something special for him. He always made you feel so special — in bed and in general — and it gave you the desire (and the confidence) to try something like this. 

You’re still fiddling with the outfit when you hear noises in the living room. Sirius is home early. 

“Shit,” you startle, looking around the room for something to cover yourself with, debating whether it’d be faster or slower to take it off first. Sure, there wasn’t a specific occasion, but you were still planning to do something more special than just have him find you like this in the middle of the afternoon. Then, to your horror, the noises solidify into… voices. Sirius is home early, and he’s not alone.

You hear his voice growing louder, coming closer: “…’Course, mate. I think I left it in here; let me just grab it, and we can see  if — bloody fucking hell…” He’s standing at the bedroom door, eyes wide, mouth agape, its edges already quirking up at the corners a fraction of a second later. Not even shock is enough to keep his delighted smirk from forming automatically. You’re standing there in your new lingerie like a deer in headlights, frozen, your hands too conflicted about which part of yourself to attempt to cover to move to any part at all. Sirius, stock-still, just stares.

“What? Y’alright, Pads?” Now James’s voice is louder, too, and you can tell he’s just on the other side of Sirius. 

“Uhh,” Sirius startles, turning rapidly on his heels and pulling the door half closed next to him. “Sorry, Prongsy, change of plans.” You don’t quite make out James’s quick response. “Yeah, mate, I know, but the thing is, I’m about to fuck my girlfriend silly, so that’s going to have to wait because this could take a while.” He sounds so smug already, and in the back of your startled mind, you’re ruing how your surprise for him has him smug and you flustered even from its onset. You hear what sounds like “bloody hell” and something about “bloody rabbits” from the other side of the door, and a moment later, Sirius has turned his attention back on you, the door closed behind him, the flat silent. He’s leaning back on the door, taking you in, looking you shamelessly up and down where you stand planted to the floor shifting your weight nervously. “Hello, sweetheart.” It sounds almost normal. Almost. His voice is a good octave lower than usual. He’s wearing a shit-eating grin too, but that’s pretty normal. “What’s going on here then?” He pushes off the door. 

“Hi,” you say, sounding much shyer than you have with Sirius for years. You struggle to hold his gaze, your cheeks burning. “Um. Nothing —” “Nothing?” he challenges immediately. “Really?” a bit more gently, fake considering. He’s stepping achingly slowly toward you. He reaches your spot in the middle of the room and stops in front of you, his eyes roaming your body conspicuously. “Because this…” he begins,  and he lifts his hand slowly. Gently, he sticks his finger between your bra strap and your skin then runs it up and down a couple of times. “…doesn’t look like nothing.” He snaps the strap onto your skin. You start a bit at the sensation but still say nothing. You don’t know what to say, and your brain has stopped functioning. You’re completely overwhelmed, and you’re not even sure by which feeling.

Sirius caresses your cheek with the backs of his fingers. When you still don’t say anything after a few moments, his cheeky expression softens subtly, and he asks, “Y’alright, love?” “Yeah, I’m good. I just… You surprised me,” you say quietly. “I surprised you?” he asks incredulously, full cheek restored. “Funny. That’s not how it feels from my side of things.” You giggle awkwardly but warmly. “Did I forget my own birthday or something?” he jokes. You giggle again, most of the awkwardness melting quickly away. Sirius has a way of making that happen. “No, Siri,” you smile. “I just wanted to do something special for you,” you shrug. “Something fun,” you add. “Oh. Darling.” His hand comes to rest on your cheek, and he takes a step closer. “Darling, darling, darling,” he teases, his eyes roaming your body. He takes his time then looks at the mirror behind you. Biting his bottom lip, he huskily whispers, “Do a little spin for me, baby. Show me all of it?” Blushing, you nod shyly and turn all the way around slowly. Sirius groans appreciatively, and his hand instinctively goes to the already prominent bulge in his pants. 

“You like it?” you ask him, your voice small. His eyebrows go up in response. 

“Baby,” he says, closing the distance between you. “Why’re you all shy?” His hands come up on either side of your face, holding and caressing you. “Is it part of the fun?” he asks cheekily. “Because if it is, I’m game,” he chuckles lowly. “I’ll do whatever you want me to.” His playful expression softens a bit as he continues, “But if you’re actually nervous…” He gently brings his hands from your cheeks to your shoulders then guides you toward the mirror, turning you around, standing close behind you. He rests his chin on your shoulder, and caresses your arms up and down where they rest at your sides. He pecks your cheek then looks back toward the mirror. “Do you like it?”

“I…” You look yourself up and down, biting your bottom lip as you consider. “I think so.” 

“Hm,” he hums by your ear then gives it a nip that sends shivers down your spine. He sees your eyes close and smirks at the effect he has on you, but he says, “Open your eyes, baby.” You do. “You, my love, are a fucking sight to behold. I pity the rest of the world for not getting to see you like this, to see what I see. But you do, right? You see how bloody gorgeous you are? So fucking sexy…” His arms come more tightly around you, and he plants a sloppy openmouthed kiss on your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse point, where the vibrations of his chuckle pulse through you. “Sirius…” you whisper, leaning back into him. His wet lips smile against you. 

“Let’s play a game,” he suggests, all mischief. You giggle softly, biting your lip and quirking your eyebrow. “What kind of game?” “The kind that’s going to end with you writhing in pleasure on that bed right there.” “Sounds fun…” “Oh, it’ll be fun, sweetheart. So much fun.” He takes a step back from you, and you immediately miss his warmth. You go to turn to him, but he stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder and a low  “uh-uh.” His chin jutting out toward the mirror, he says, “Look at yourself.” You squint suspiciously at him, making him chuckle, but then turn toward the mirror. You meet his eyes through the mirror and raise your eyebrows in challenge, soliciting his instructions. He asks you, “Which part of yourself do you like the most right now?” “Sirius —” you go to protest, but he stops you immediately, talking over you and coming closer again. “Because if I looked as good as you do right now, I’d definitely be turning myself on,” he jokes. You roll your eyes but keep smiling. “So? Which part?” 

“Which part do you like?” 

“Uh-uh. Not the game. Answer me.” 

You glare at him but answer, “… My tits.”

“Mmm. Good choice, gorgeous.” His arms wrapping around you from behind, his hands come up to your breasts. “These glorious tits?” He gropes them roughly, and you moan, your head falling back onto his shoulder. The gentle kiss he gives your hairline contrasts with the forceful kneading of your breasts.  “C’mere.” 

He drags you unceremoniously toward the bed, sits on its edge, and pulls you onto his lap. Straddling him, you can feel his hardness underneath you. His eyes level with — and glued to — your chest in this position, he says, “Perfect.” You don’t know if he means the position or your chest, but when he abruptly pulls one of the thin cups down and latches on to you, it doesn’t matter. He’s groaning as he sucks harshly on your nipple. When it’s completely pert, he moves his attention to the rest of your breast, biting, sucking, and licking everywhere, before returning his mouth to your hard bud to play with it again. After repeating this a couple times, he loudly pops off and moves his head between your breasts. Squeezing each in his calloused hands, he buries himself in your chest and gives a deep, loud groan. Then, looking up at you from between them, he tells you, “You taste as delicious as you look, you know? And I’m only just getting started.” He licks a stripe between your tits and across your sternum. 

He pulls back a tiny bit and just stares at your breasts, licking his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between them. With surprising gentleness, he fixes the crumpled bra cup so that it sits right on your breast again. Your hard, moist nipple is perfectly clear underneath the very thin, almost transparent material. He wraps his lips around it over the material, sucking harshly and running his tongue around and around. He gives it a little bite before leaning back again. “Much better,” he muses at his work. The bra is wet with his saliva, making it even more prominent where your nipple is poking through. He moves to play with your other breast until it looks the same and both are aching and sensitive. You shiver when the cool air hits you. “How do they feel?” he asks, his rough hands kneading them again. “Good,” you respond, raspy. 

“How good? I’m glad to keep going.” 

You’re not exactly sure what he means but just answer truthfully, “They feel incredible.” “Good. Because they fucking look incredible.” His hands still on them, squeezing, he bites one where it bulges above the cup, and you whimper. His hands then caress your body and move to rest on your arse, squeezing there. “Now. What other part do you like?” You’d already forgotten his game, but play along immediately, eager for his mouth to be back on you. “Umm…” You look down at yourself. You’re not sure if it’s the sitting position or the way Sirius is making you feel, but the garters on your thighs, resting either side of him, look better than they did during your nervous examination. 

You’re worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, looking down at yourself but not answering him when he prompts, “Don’t be nervous, doll. There’s no wrong answer; I mean, fuck, just look at you.” He gives your arse a little jiggle. 

“My thighs,” you tell him, and his hands squeeze their way down from your arse to your thighs where he kneads them.

“Good girl,” he praises. His fingers trace across the garters’ fabric then he sticks them in and tugs, snapping it back onto your skin. It elicits a little pain but a lot of pleasure, and you grind your hips down onto his. He bucks up into you in response, grinding back, his hands gripping your hips and his hard cock giving your soaked center delicious friction. “Fuck,” he comments, his head rolling back. “Don’t worry, darling, we’ll get to that.” He juts up once more in punctuation. “But first, let me show you how much I love your thighs… show you how right your are to love them too.” He leans in for a lingering kiss then, before his lips have parted from yours, tosses you sideways onto the bed. You laugh together. 

You shuffle back on your elbows scooting further up on the bed, but as you try to settle in, Sirius yanks you back down by the ankles. 

“Sorry, sweets,” he says, voice syrupy and cheeky. “That’s my spot.” 

He tugs his shirt off then crawls over you slowly, kissing and licking all the way up your body as he does, until he settles onto the center of the bed, his head comfortably near the headboard, his hands coming up behind his head. He quirks his eyebrow at you from where he’s lounging, looking you up and down. “You coming?” You make your way onto him, straddling his hips, but you don’t manage to sit back before he’s moving you. His hands are pulling you further up, his own body shuffling down with the same pull. 

“What are you doing?” There’s slight panic in your voice, guessing where this is going. Guessing correctly, in fact, as he nonchalantly responds, “Sit on my face.” 

You tense and resist his manipulations of your body.  

“Siri… I… Why don’t we switch?” With you sitting almost on his chest at this point, he sits up onto his elbows, looking up at you. 

“Because. I want you to suffocate me with your thighs.” He bites his bottom lip hungrily as he looks at them, spread across his chest. “And,” he rasps, his hands caressing your knees comfortingly, “Because I think you’ll like it…” You’re worried you’ll actually suffocate him, as ridiculous as it seems, and he knows. “Baby… Hey, look at me.” You do. “I want it, yeah? A lot, actually. And if it’s uncomfortable — for either of us — we’ll just tell each other. Yeah?” His thumbs are rubbing soothing circles on the insides of your knees through the thin fabric of your stockings. “We don’t have to try if you don’t want to.” He means it; you know. “But I think it could be great…”

You are curious, have been for a while. And you trust him completely. So, with your bottom lip nervously between your teeth, and your eyes glued to where your hands are fiddling with each other, you nod. 

“Yeah?” he enthuses, giddy. “Yeah,” you whisper. He pushes up so that he’s fully sitting up with you in his lap, and he wraps his arms around you. He kisses you ardently, holding you close. His lips are soft and wet against yours, his tongue hot and firm where it plays with yours. 

“Mmm,” he hums, pulling back slightly. Scanning your face, he asks, “Ready?” You nod again, more certain this time. “Brilliant,” he says, with the same look on his face he had as a second-year sneaking into Honeydukes for the first time. He dramatically plops back down onto his back, and he gestures you forward with his index finger. Covering your face with your hands, you groan nervously. You take a deep breath and scoot forward.

“That’s my girl,” he encourages. And when you cage his face between your legs, he adds, “My sexy —” he gives a loving bite to the inside of your thigh, “sexy,” he bites the other one, his face grazing your cunt as he switches between them, “girl.” You grab onto the headboard to help hold yourself up and stable. His hands caress the outsides of your thighs as he keeps nipping at the insides of them. He bites around where the lace circles them and licks at your bikini line. You shiver at the feeling of his tongue on such sensitive skin, so close to your core, and you feel him chuckle there. 

“Shut up,” you tell him shyly. You tighten your thighs a bit in playful punishment, and rather than act reprimanded, he barks into full laughter. 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish, love. You’re giving me exactly what I want,” he laughs. He slaps your arse, and you yelp. 

“You’re going to make me lose my balance!” You complain. “Good! I want you all over me.” “I am all over you.” “I know. I fucking love it.” His voice is muffled by your body, even more so when he nuzzles into your cunt, chuckling all the while. “This is very pretty,” he says, playing with the thin string of your skimpy knickers. “But it’s in the way.” He pulls it to the side. “And what’s underneath is much, much prettier.” He licks a wet stripe from as far down to as far up as his mouth will reach.

“Fuck, Siri, fuck,” you chant as he does it again and again. You start losing yourself in it, grinding your hips onto his tongue. It’s electric and incredible. And wet.

“Fuck, you’re dripping, darling. You’re not going to suffocate me; you’re going to drown me,” he laughs. You’re mortified. You tense immediately and try to pull off of him, but he pulls you back down with impressive ease. “Baby, baby, baby; wait,” spills quickly out of his glistening mouth. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s great; I’m great; I love it,” he tries to reassure, holding you in place.

“It’s embarrassing,” you say to between your legs. 

“Why? Do you think I should be embarrassed that I’m so fucking hard right now? Because of you, by the way.” “No…” “Exactly. It’s hot. And…” He gives you a good lick. “Fucking delicious.” 

He sucks on your lower lips, and you moan. He sucks on your clit, and your moan mutates into a full yell. 

It’s never felt so good before… And your level of control helps you guide the pressure perfectly… And Sirius seems genuinely thrilled…

You take a deep breath and lift up off of him a bit. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his gorgeous gray eyes flooding with disappointed concern. 

“Nothing,” you respond calmly, contemplating him. “Siri…”  “Yeah?”

“You like it?” His eyebrows furrow, wondering if this is some kind of trick question given there’s only one obvious answer. He gives it: “I love it.”

“And you’re comfortable?” 

“More like ecstatic, but yes.” He’s still squinting confusedly at you, but he’s grinning now. “Okay.” 

“Okay…?”

“Yeah, okay,” you give a nervous giggle. “Just tell me if it’s too much.” 

“‘Course.”

You start putting your weight back down on him but pull up at the last second and add, “You promise?” 

“Yes, baby, I promise. Now get back here.” He pulls you back down, immediately attaching his mouth to you. The pleasure shoots from where you connect through your entire body, and rather than be self-conscious, you follow the impulse and grind down.  Sirius groans throatily and doubles his efforts. You follow his mouth with your hips. Your hands are clenching the headboard, but you allow your weight to mostly rest on him, ignoring your inhibitions and chasing your pleasure. 

You build up together, Sirius adept at knowing when to be rhythmically  repetitive and when to switch things up, you using your leverage to guide the pace and pressure. Mere minutes later, you’re a moaning mess and Sirius’s groaning is constant and loud. Your legs buckle from the strain and the pleasure, and Sirius tightens his grip on your thighs and hips to hold you up. Sensing your weakening legs and growing pleasure, he picks up his pace abruptly, and equally quickly, you release onto his face with a piercing scream. 

Your whole body goes limp, but he does his best to hold you in place as he keeps moving his mouth on you, your shivers still shooting through you, your whimpers still music to his ears. 

A long, lingering moment later, you manage to swing one of your legs over and collapse next to him. Your breathing is laboured and loud. Next to you, Sirius looks blissful, looks like he’s the one who just came. The entire bottom half of his face is soaked in you. 

“Oh my god,” you observe, smiling, reaching over to wipe some of it off. He snatches your wrist and stops you. “I’m quite proud of this,” he informs you, looking down goofily and licking his lips. He pulls you by your wrist so you’re lying mostly on top of him. “You want a taste?” he jokes, face to face with you, jutting his chin toward you. You giggle and lick his lips. He takes your tongue in his mouth and sucks on it then molds his lips to yours and kisses you deeply. “Told you you were delicious,” he whispers. His hands caress your back; his nose nudges yours. Softly, he asks, “Did you like it, love?” 

Sirius is cocky. In bed, Sirius is very cocky. And yet, his questions is genuine. There’s no hint of “I told you so,” only “How was it for you? Are you alright?”

“It was insane, baby. Thank you,” you whisper back. He scoffs lightheartedly. 

“Thank you. For trusting me, for letting go.” He pecks your lips. “Fuck, it was so hot when you just let go.” Now you kiss him.

Your lips still lingering against his, you suggestively whisper, “Is the game over?” He chuckles brightly and shakes his head. “What other part do you like?” He kisses you. “Hmmm…” You act contemplative. “Oh, I know what I like.” You bite his bottom lip then release it with a lewd pop. “I know what I like a lot.” “Tell me.” He’s grinning adoringly up at you, but his pupils are completely blown, and his voice is low and raspy.

“Your cock.” You grind down onto him, and his groan is inadvertent and animalistic. 

“That’s not how this works,” he jokes, but his voice is as strained as his trousers. 

“It is now.” “Okay,” he gives immediately and lunges up to clash your lips together again. You chuckle into his kiss and reach down between you to undo his trousers. He helps you, never breaking the kiss, until his hard cock is free. You grab him and guide him to your still wet entrance, sinking down onto him. 

“Holy fuck,” he groans, and his hands bruisingly grip your hips. He lets you control the  pace, but you can tell by his grip, his expression, his breathing that it is taking all his self-control. You go fast, and when he bottoms out, his head plops back onto the pillow in tight bliss. “You feel so good. How do you feel so good?” He bucks up into you. 

You sit up, putting your hands on his chest, and clench as tightly as you can. Sirius’s eyes roll back in his head, and he whimpers. Slowly, deliciously, you pull your hips up until only his tip remains inside you then slide back down equally steadily. His fingers tense, and he bites his bottom lip hard. You do it again. His eyes squeeze shut. “You don’t want to look at me?” You tease. “After I dressed up for you?” 

“Baby…” He meets your eyes then looks at your chest then at where you’re connected. “You’re going to kill me,” he chuckles huskily. “I could cum just by looking at you.” One of his hands comes up to harshly hold your breast. You lift up and down and up and down, quickly and roughly now, your nails digging into his chest. “Mmmphhh, fuuuck,” he gasps. He moves his hand to grip the bit of your bra between your tits, making it move even more as you go up and down. He’s staring, transfixed, at your chest, as he pleads, “Yeah, baby, make ‘em bounce like that, fuck.” You oblige. 

You’re enjoying it thoroughly, both the sensations and the teasing, but your legs are already feeling like jelly after your previous activity. You sit still and look down at him. 

“Siri…” 

“Mm?” he grunts. 

His lidded eyes staring straight into yours, you grind your hips and ask him, “Fuck me?”

He sits up like a lightning bolt, more devouring than kissing you, and with a tight grip on your waist, he flips you over. He spreads your thighs roughly and plunges right back into you. 

His pace is immediately rough and desperate. You wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his shoulders, and cling to him as he pounds in and out of you. The headboard starts banging against the wall in rhythm with his thrusts, and the sound muffles your concurrent yelping.

You think he’s going to keep going until he cums, especially given it can’t be long with how hard he’s going, but after a stutter of his hips, you feel him suddenly halt. He’s panting into the crook of your neck, and he bites down onto your shoulder to calm himself for a moment. He pulls back and stares into your eyes. He gives you a quick kiss then moves up, pulling out, till he’s kneeling above you, his naked chest still rising and falling heavily, his mouth open, his eyes black and piercing, his hair a gorgeous mess. 

One of his hands grabs his cock, and the other slaps your thigh.

“Turn around,” he demands. You do, and you raise your hips. “Haven’t appreciated this side enough,” he chuckles breathily. He slaps your arse then gently traces the lace first of the belt, then of the garters, and finally of your wrecked knickers. He pulls it aside again and sticks his cock inside you, languidly pushing all the way in.

He’s still. The fronts of his thighs are flush with the backs of yours; his hands are exploring your back, your arse, your thighs. He gives a haughty chuckle. 

“Baby,” — he snaps your knickers onto your skin — “you’ve no idea how hot you look. This view is killer.” You wiggle your arse on him, and he laughs his full laugh, squeezing your cheeks in his eager hands. “Keep doing that,” he urges. When you do, he slaps your arse a couple more times. His chuckles turn to groans at a particularly harsh grind from you, and you squeeze your cunt around him to draw it out. “Fuuck.” He snaps his hips. The drag of his cock feels incredible at this angle. 

Having started, he doesn’t stop, quickly setting a brutal pace. “‘M not gonna last, love,” he confesses. “‘S too good.” He sounds completely spent, but the movements of his body are as fast and forceful as ever. “Touch yourself,” he urges. “Please cum on my cock, baby,” he pleads, his words more of an exhale by the end. 

He thrusts even harder but a bit slower, allowing you to snake your hand under yourself. You immediately start rubbing your clit roughly. 

“Fuuu — I’m gonna, fuck, fuck; I can feel you’re right there; you’re right there; that’s it, fuck; cum with me, baby.”

He starts cumming before you can get there, but the feel of it has you immediately releasing with him. Your tightening walls draw out his cum and extend his orgasm. You look behind you, and Sirius is completely blissed out. His hands are on you; his hips are making their best attempt at thrusting, but his mouth hangs open, low whimpers emanating from it. You push your hips back and forth onto him, helping him finish his climax and enjoying the end of yours, and after a few more languid thrusts, you both collapse flat on the bed. Sirius is half on top of you, his chest on your back, his arm snaked around your waist, his mouth playing lazily on your shoulder. He chuckles there. 

You turn to him, your faces close, your grins matching.

“So you like the surprise?” you ask.

“I love the surprise,” he responds, equal parts cheek and affection. “And I love you. So fucking much.” He leans in for a quick, adoring kiss. “You? you like it?” He runs his hands over the lingerie softly as he asks. You nod gently but certainly and hum affirmatively. “Good. You’re so beautiful, baby.” He kisses you again. “Wear whatever you want, and you’ll have me pining like a puppy.”  You giggle and kiss his nose. “Love you, pup.” He gives his barking laugh. “Love you, too.”

[bluenoo42]

How I do my job and accommodate my disabilities.

So, I have the best job in the world. I'm a fossil tour guide and basically walk around the beach with people talking incessantly about my special interest and they are actually interested and pay (extremely good) money for it. I'm living the dream guys!

As awesome as my job is, there are a few challenges due to my disabilities. Luckily, I have found ways to accommodate myself so both me and the customers all have a great time. I've decided to split this list up by disability rather than by different aspects of the job so if you have one of the disabilities that I mention you can just look at the bit that is relavent to you to see if any of the things that are helpful to me are helpful to you. If you have any other suggestions of different things to try, please put it in the comments!

Autism:

To be honest, the palaeontology field is full of autistic people so I really don't stand out. When people book a fossil tour, they expect the tour guide to be a little quirky, so I do have a bit of leeway for seeming socially awkward without too much judgement.

I don't really pick up the hint that someone isn't having fun any more, so when the weather is bad I make sure to tell people at the beginning of the tour "I know it's really (insert unpleasant weather situation here) today, so if at any time this stops being fun for you, we can always head back early, just please directly tell me 'I'm not having fun any more, can we go?' because I'm not great at picking up hints." If the family are from the UK, I sometimes make a joke about them not being my hostages, but I avoid this with foreign families because that kind of humour doesn't always land well with other cultures.

I have visual materials to help keep my talks on track and to better explain the points that I'm trying to make. I also keep my initial talk pretty similar every time so I don't have to think of the words off the top of my head every time.

I make sure I give clear factual answers to questions that give both the technical terms and a simplification to all age groups e.g."That is a fossil echinoid which is the scientific name for a sea urchin." This avoids having to guess the person's level of prior knowledge and avoids me being overly technical or coming across patronising.

I try to limit my work to around 3 hours per day to avoid getting overstimulated.

Deafness:

I always make sure to tell people about my deafness right at the start of the tour and tell them how to accommodate me. I try to make it lighthearted I'll say it like "Just so you know I'm Deaf which means I can't hear well. If I look like I'm ignoring you, I'm not, I just can't hear you. Please tap me or wave at me to get my attention and make sure to look at me when you're speaking so I can understand you." Some people just ignore the instructions, but at least then they know what they're supposed to be doing, and it normally works out okay.

I have a cochlear implant which helps me a lot, but is vulnerable to wet and windy weather. I use EarGear covers on my processor to block out the wind noise and to protect it from moisture. It works pretty well, but isn't perfect.

I probably would benefit from an interpreter, however my work schedule is pretty flexible and often there are last minute bookings, also there aren't many interpreters near where I live so it would be virtually impossible to find one, so I make do without and it seems to be working okay for me.

Balance and Mobility (HSD and balance disorder):

Luckily my hypermobility is pretty mild so I'm able to weight bear fully on both legs and climb stairs etc.

If I'm going to be walking/standing for over 1 hour, I use knee supports to help prevent knee pain. I use the ones that are thin and elasticated tubes (kind of like a sock) rather than the velcro ones because they look more sleek and I find them more comfortable, also I only need fairly light support. I recommend using the lightest support that is reasonable for you to avoid weakening your joints. If you're not sure, speak to a professional.

I use an ergonomic backpack with padded straps and try and keep my kit as light as possible. I always make sure to carry it over both shoulders to avoid an uneven load on my body. I used to just use any old backpack and cram it full of examples of every single fossil you could ever find. Don't do that. You're not on SAS who dares wins.

Trekking poles. (In my opinion) The most underrated mobility/balance aid out there. Does it make me look like I think I'm scaling Everest? Yes. Does that fact make me feel ridiculous? Yes. Am I very grateful for them when I lose my footing on a pebble bank? Also yes. Most of the time I use one pole just for balance so I can keep a hand free, but I do have two, just in case. It also allows me to point at things without bending down so much which helps with my vertigo issues. If you are considering whether you could benefit from a mobility aid for your balance, especially if you're often on uneven surfaces, I would urge you to try trekking poles. You can use two at a time for extra support, they're gentler on your wrists than a crutch or cane and they come with the option of rubber or metal tips depending on the surface you're on.

Here is my relatively comprehensive guide to how I do my awesome job. If you have any questions or you would like to suggest something that you've found helpful, please leave a comment.

[muffinsin]

Sweet Divorce, dark Obsession, Love to come

Donna Beneviento x Daniela Dimitrescu

Donna sees her, and she knows; she must have her. She must claim what is hers.

Partly NSFW, Stalking, Manipulation, Top Donna, Bottom Daniela, Obsession, twisted intentions and falling in love quickly, a long post

Could probably be considered a part in a Stalker Donna x Dimitrescu series. Bela’s part can be found: here

Masterlists

Donna Beneviento is said to be many things.

A crafter of beautiful dolls, tiny clothing, and tools. A scientist and doctor, interested in exploring every little substance and every unique thing in detail. A botanist, collecting and using dozens of flowers and their pollen to her advantage. Now, those are all noble titles.

She also is a puppeteer, however, controlling and manipulating, shaping and guiding all to fit into the plot she has designed for them. She is an observer, quiet and appearing meek, and it helps her blend in with the shadows perfectly.

And she sees no reason not to blend in with them, to observe from afar, to study, to watch. She never allows an opportunity to pass by, but rarely recognizes opportunities as worth her time and effort.

This, is about to change, when a single, special woman catches her dark eye.

A regular day, a regular visit, nothing out of the ordinary, all is as usual. This is what Donna believed that day was going to be. After all, why wouldn’t she? After all, every previous visit has been just that. Arriving at the castle, a greeting by Alcina, an offering of tea and biscuits before Donna could get to work.

Never anything else. Never any disruptions, never anything out of the ordinary.

That was, until today, when it changes, when Donna sits in the room provided to her as usual, the cracked open window allowing fresh, warm air to fill the room.

Only this time, it’s different.

This time, she hears a cry. A cry so desperate, so pure, so helpless, so passionate. More follow, and more.

Her curiosity rises, she must know where this sound is originating from.

Donna rises from her desk, the thick, white dress from her lap momentarily forgotten. Alcina would have to show patience, there are more pressing matters at hand as of just now.

“What are you doing? This isn’t any of our business!”, Angie scolds, but Donna can’t find it within her to care. She wants to find out about this noise. She needs to discover its origin.

She stands slowly, her fingers grasping and opening the window fully in a fluid motion. Immediately, the sounds become a little louder. It’s a woman’s cry. A lover’s cry.

When looking below, she at last finds the source of such dainty cries. A woman indeed, of auburn hair, sunken to her knees at the castle’s gardens. She looks almost angelic, surrounded by flowers and white. The seamstress can’t make out the woman’s features, nor her face.

“Can we get back to our work now? I want to get home!”, Angie complains, but the brunette pays her no mind. No, returning to the manor, or working, is not an option now.

Her eyes wander to the white halo surrounding the creature- a large, expensive dress. She recognizes it, the puffy sleeves, the long skirt, the thin waist, the pale colour. Only is it now dirtied by the mud and dirt of the ground beneath and dark red smears of blood.

The woman keeps weeping. It’s a small part of Donna that feels pity for her, for whatever must have happened. Yet a larger, much larger part of her finds itself fascinated and drawn in by the sound.

She did not think she’d find such a pure and raw sound at Castle Dimitrescu.

No, all work has to wait. She needs to investigate.

Adjusting the vail over her head again, she quickly makes for the way down to the gardens. Passing staff pays her little attention, and her equally so to them. Walking in shadows, as she always does.

She finds the entrance to the gardens fast, despite just rarely spending time at the castle to fix one of the countess’s dresses in exchange for rare and precious fabrics and wood.

Only this time she is not after such things.

She walks outside, the sun hitting her eye even through the mourning garb. But she can’t bring herself to pay any mind to it this time, when she would normally grow annoyed.

Instead, her dark eye is set entirely on the beautiful woman on the ground in the middle of the field. Clutching a single rose to her, red, she weeps to herself.

She doesn’t even seem to notice her, until Donna kneels down right in front of her, her knees hovering over the dirty ground.

“L-Lady Beneviento”, the woman speaks. Her voice is soft, her lips even more so. Donna finds herself staring at the woman in front of her. Up this close, she can make out her features properly.

Her auburn hair, slightly sticky and messy with blood, some sticking to her wet cheeks, the rest ascending down her back and shoulders.

Strong, golden eyes, wide and beautifully teary, almost gleaming in the sunlight. Donna finds herself lost in them easily.

A button nose, soft as the rest of the woman, a little red and wet from her endless crying.

Her plump lips. Unpainted, but smeared with blood and tears. Her cheeks are equally wet and sticky with tried and wet tears, some remaining makeup is smeared against them. Donna admires the shape of them, the beautiful tear streaks they created.

What catches her eye though is the black rose tattooed on the woman’s forehead. This beautiful creature is no mere maid, no staff member, no prisoner escaped from the infamous Dimitrescu dungeon, but one of the countess’s daughters herself.

Donna searches her mind for an answer to her own questions. Daniela, was it not? She never officially met the three sisters, only ever heard Alcina speak so very fondly of them.

Ah, but she remembers the stories about Daniela, the youngest of the three. How often she would fall in love and get her precious little heart broken. It seems, this is a similar situation.

Daniela watches silently, her teary eyes wide, her bottom lip quivering a little.

“La-Lady Beneviento”, she greets again, her voice shaky and cracking from the tears that still run down her soft and round cheeks.

Never before has she seen such a marvellous creature.

Donna understands all in an instant.

She must know more of her.

She must get to know her.

She must have her.

Her hand reaches out, icy cold, strong fingers coming up to grasp Daniela’s chin. The woman doesn’t struggle against her hold in the slightest, instead merely keeps on whimpering a little.

Donna eyes the flower clutched in her hand, her mind burning with envy. Surely, this must be for someone else. Surely, someone else has hurt this beautiful creature.

Possessively, almost, she extends her other arm and snatches the flower from the auburn haired woman. Daniela gasps sweetly at the quick movement and for a moment Donna hears the flies she is said to be made of buzz almost aggressively before they calm.

The rose is tossed aside, leaving the younger woman’s hand slightly bloodied, but empty.

Instead, Donna plucks one of the pink roses from the ground.

Daniela’s cries have quieted down a little, her attention turned to the Lord in front of her. Never has she met a Lord of the village, save for Alcina of course.

She feels intimidated and a fluttery feeling in her stomach all the same. Despite having her heart broken mere hours ago, her lover, her fiancée, murdered by her sister after an unsuccessful attempt of escape, she already feels her heart sing again.

Perhaps, this is a sign? Daniela resists the urge to shake her head. No, Mother keeps telling her, she falls too fast. No, Bela keeps reminding her, she’s naive, she’s young, she’s gullible. She keeps falling for the wrong people. No, for Cassandra insists Daniela is too clouded by the bubble of false promises and expectations from fantasy books to ever hold a proper relationship.

And still, she feels a flutter at her chest, being this close to the Lord. She feels lightheaded almost, like a foolish, young maid again, this close to the older woman, with her fingers grasping her chin and keeping her eyes set on her.

Only, she wishes she could see the face behind the veil. She wonders how the woman looks below it, what features she is hiding.

Despite her tears, her face burns bright pink and warm when the silent woman raises the rose and plucks each thorn from it. She then raises it to Daniela’s face, and she shivers at the unfamiliar, but welcomed touch when the flower is set behind her ear.

She hears the doll maker’s heart beat quietly beneath her chest, a wild contrast to her own, fast heartbeat.

Donna smirks underneath the veil. Daniela is proving very cooperative. She watches golden eyes flicker across her, searching for her face, over and over again. She might just grant the poor thing a look sometime in the future.

As her hand retracts, the brunette’s fingers brush lightly against the Dimitrescu’s hair. Soft, again, and warm from the sun hitting it for the past hour or so.

Donna smiles again. Yes, she must have her.

After all, who would make a better doll for her than Daniela Dimitrescu?

In the days to come, Donna finds herself at the castle increasingly more often.

While sometimes she lets Alcina know of this, at other times she merely sticks to herself, unnoticed, invisible almost. After all, she rarely finds herself in the company of the Lady of the house, nor her daughters, who she has found out spend their days out hunting.

All, except little Daniela, who is usually away for half a day before retreating to the library; a routine Donna has been able to see and figure out within the first week.

She watches from afar most of the time.

When hunting, Donna likes to create beautiful illusions of the thickest, quickest, healthiest animals. A perfect prey. A perfect trap. Of course, Daniela adapts to this eagerly, changing her hunting grounds and gradually pushing more into Donna’s territory, while rarely staying within Castle grounds.

During the time her doll is out, hunting whatever catches her eye, Donna reaches out using her pollen.

She fills her love’s mind with her scent and the thoughts of her, until the poor thing is too distracted and flustered to even hit her prey with a simple attack of her sickle.

This usually means Daniela is left panting and blushing wildly, oblivious as to why her head is full of the thought of the Lord and her scent is strong as though she had smelled it a thousand times over.

Sometimes, Donna gets lucky. Sometimes, her pollen has an almost aphrodisiac-like effect on her doll.

Then, she watches hungrily from afar as Daniela neglects whatever creature she was chasing in order to lean back against a tree, hike up her dress and shove her fingers in her underwear.

Such as she is doing today, with her head thrown back and quiet moans and whimpers passing soft lips.

Donna almost feels it, almost smells it. She considers helping her sweet doll out already as she is helplessly and clumsily rutting against her own fingers. But still, no matter how clumsy and careful Daniela is, her sharp nails take away a lot of the fun and barely help with the brimming heat and wetness between her thighs.

Ah, but Donna could to better. Being the seamstress that she is, she is more than skilled enough with her fingers to bring her sweet redhead to ecstasy over and over again.

She begins to crave Daniela’s moans. Her pollen reaches out a little more, just enough for her to slip inside the woman’s mind unnoticed.

She groans lowly under her breath. She almost feels the other woman’s need for pleasure and release. Instead of tending to it just yet, she opts for adding more to it.

Daniela whines and moans as images of the Lord flicker across her mind. Has she been thinking of her? She can’t recall, and doesn’t care either. She must have, if it’s in her mind, after all.

More and more, day after day after day, Donna fills more and more of her doll’s mind with images of her and her scent.

Daniela is completely used to it. She no longer picks up when Donna is near, too accustomed to the smell being around her at all times. And with her doll prepared, Donna is ready to make her moves.

She moves silently through the castle, her heart pounding a little. In her hand she grasps a basket, in the other her little doll companion’s hand. Every little fibre in her body calls to her, beckons her closer, urges her to keep going.

“What are we doing here?”, Angie asks. Was her voice not only in the doll maker’s mind, she would have hushed her companion.

With her friend in such a state, it’s almost as if the doll represents the small, sane part left of them. Alas, Donna no longer cares for sanity. She knows exactly what she wants and craves. What she needs to have.

“Don’t you think this is going too far? Let’s go home! They’ll catch us!”, Angie pleads. Yet, when the brunette woman only keeps walking, she follows behind quietly.

She stops only when she finds what she was looking for; a door, dark brown, with a small D engraved in gold in the middle of it.

Cautiously, she opens it. She’s completely quiet, but her breath quickens and an excited, almost sinister smile crosses her lips for a mere moment as she steps into the warm room.

Inside, she finds Daniela, sleeping peacefully. The beautiful creature is tucked beneath heavy, dark red sheets and surrounded by more pillows than Donna ever imagined someone had.

She trails her fingertips across the satin covers of the blanket. Daniela doesn’t even stir.

If she notices the new presence and scent in her room, she doesn’t give it much thought. After all, Donna is always with her. And there is no telling when she truly is next to her, and when she merely occupies her mind.

With each passing day Donna’s obsession grows, and with each Daniela’s love and dependance does, too.

Every little maid that caught her attention in this time was released and lost in the woods, where their pollen induced state led to their ultimate demise. Of course, Daniela doesn’t quite know this. Of course, even Alcina does not understand this little secret of Donna’s.

Of course, though, she is always there, always around, to comfort her doll when she cries so sweetly after losing another. And with every time the thought of Donna and the feel of warm caresses in her mind leave Daniela more and more smitten. Despite rarely having seen her since their first encounter, she feels already incredibly drawn to the older woman.

Donna smiles as the back of her fingers brush over her beautiful doll’s soft cheeks. She sleeps peacefully, content, perhaps even unaware of the actions and presences around her.

She moves from the bed, then. Crossing to her closet, she begins picking bits and pieces of clothing. Some dresses, some underwear, some stockings that aren’t in top shape anymore.

Instead, she gently takes the folded clothings from the basket and replaces the missing ones. Summer dresses are replaced by ones crafted by Donna herself, some representing house Beneviento subtly in their design and threads, some less subtly, such as pieces which have the very crest snitched into the waist piece.

She puts the taken clothing into her basket, ignoring the growing excitement in her chest. Only a little more, before she could claim her..

She steps closer to the bed again, her fingertips gliding across Daniela’s exposed shoulder before pulling something from the basket yet again. A flower, this time, shiny yellow.

“Do as I say”, she commands as she hands the flower to her doll companion. Although sighing, somewhat implying this can’t possibly be okay, Angie submits to the command and crushes the large petals directly under the sleeping woman’s bed.

Donna watches, enhanced, eagerly, as the pollen seems to rise. She holds her hand out in front of her, her eye closing.

She sees nothingness at first, then an image clears. Daniela, in her grace, skipping across a field and swarming in the sun with her sisters close behind her. A beautiful dream.

She sneaks into it, a woman standing in the fields. Daniela finds her in an instant, a wide smile on her lips. Yet, she gasps when suddenly clouds begin covering the sun and both her older sisters fade away. Still, her eyes are trained only on the dollmaker.

Donna moves as though in a blink, suddenly appearing behind the auburn haired woman. Her hands slide across her thighs, up to her hips. Daniela moans softly, even as her clothing begins to feel too tight on her.

She allows the woman to undress her, smooth, silky skin revealed more and more.

Donna groans. She yearns to reach out, to truly feel her soon-to-be lover.

Daniela moans softly as her clothing falls to the floor, the high grass tickling at her hips. She almost feels high, unaware of the sweet bliss coming only in form of a dream. She doesn’t question the many hands, some ghostly, two Donna’s, on her.

She feels them at her hips, her thighs. She moans breathily when they cup her large breasts and squeeze, two ghostly fingers pulling at her sensitive nipples.

Another pair slides between her legs, across her smooth thighs. Donna’s real hands, she notes dreamily.

With her head thrown back, Daniela sighs softly, then, a loud moan is pulled from her when the fingers push inside of her. She feels them, deep in, curling and pushing. Inside, across her clit, the palm of her lover’s hand smearing wetness all over her southern parts.

Donna feels her body tighten and her chest and pussy throb with want. She watches Daniela squirm on the bed, trapped, not unwillingly even, in her beautiful dream, constructed by her lover. She squirms and moans softly in her sleep. She watches as her hips raise and rock gently against the covers.

Daniela’s breathing turns faster, more desperate. The wind blows lightly against her face, somewhat helping her cool down even as her body grows hotter and hotter.

She whimpers and moans, slurry phrases and pleads passing soft lips the closer she gets. She feels it, the bubbly, light feeling, the rising pleasure.

She feels just how close she is. And then;

Donna pulls from the connection, a self satisfied smile passing from her lips as the woman whispers on the bed and a single, desperate tear runs down her cheek.

And as such, desperation and obsession, dependency and yearning rises and multiplies within Daniela for a final time…

Donna smirks confidently underneath her vail as she walks down the castle halls. She is unseen by most, bowed to by others. She could not care less about them, though.

She strides down the hall, then, upon arriving at the door with the golden D engraved on it, she opens it slowly.

As expected, Daniela’s eyes immediately flicker to her.

“Lady Beneviento”, she whispers, greets.

Donna smirks a little under the veil. She feels the power of her pollen all around the room. It has engulfed her little doll completely.

“A formal greeting to a Lord of the village starts with a bow”, she states, using the newly created bond to speak the command right within the other woman’s mind, rather than using her lips to convey the words.

Immediately, Daniela bends a little, her foot stepping forwards in a polite and almost regal bow.

“Lower”

Again, her darling Daniela follows her command in an instant. She bows lower, her head raised enough for golden eyes to meet Donna’s veiled face.

She whimpers lowly when a cool hand comes down to her chin. Donna cups her lower face gently, at first, then two fingers trap Daniela’s chin between them firmly.

She squirms in place, her entire body and all her flies buzzing, with electricity almost. She feels ready for the taking, ready to be reaped by her one and only love. She knows, it must be Lady Beneviento.

“Watch, my little doll”, Donna husks seductively. Daniela watches eagerly, her breath catching in her throat when one of Donna’s hands comes up and the veil is pulled up and left discarded on the small dresser by the door.

She feels almost lightheaded, both from the woman’s low and deep voice and the features of her face. A mix of harsh and soft curves, a dark eye, the other disfigured and scarred by the cadou.

She feels herself be pulled in closer already. This time, despite her shock, she needs to command or reminder to speak.

“You’re magnificent”, Daniela coos breathlessly. She received a sly smirk in return, then gasps upon feeling the same ghostly hands come up behind her.

Her face burns as she feels them grasp the hem of her nightdress and pull it up, revealing dark panties that leave little to imagination.

“I had a feeling you would show up…”, Daniela whispers shyly, her golden eyes, despite her shyness, set right on her lover:

“Strip, and kneel, little doll”, comes the Lord’s next command.

Again, Daniela does so eager and fast. She slides the panties down her smooth legs and steps out of them, then fully takes off the dress. She feels the ghostly pair of hands slide across her skin, groping here and there and making her jump.

She feels them tear apart her stockings as she takes off her bra and steps out of both the moment they fall to the floor around her.

Then, she kneels. She feels the pair of hands grip at her wrists and pull them behind her back, until the woman looks perfectly submissive for the older woman.

With her arms behind her back, Daniela can only stare and breathe heavily as Donna’s dress is lifted and comes off in a fluid, slow motion. Creamy, pale skin is revealed, a black garter belt and equally black panties, and a matching bra that comes off within seconds as well.

The younger woman’s mouth waters as she watches the panties fall to the floor. Then, suddenly, Donna takes a hold of her jaw and pulls her head forwards. She whimpers, her heartbeat quickening.

“Are you going to serve me, doll?”

Daniela shivers at the voice in her head, and nods fast.

Spoken like a question, it is more of a demand, really. A demand Daniela is all too happy to fulfill.

“Yes, my love!”, she insists.

In an instant, she feels the ghostly fingers wrap tighter around her wrists and shove her forwards. Her hair is gripped by her lover’s hand, just tight enough for her to be held in place. Her nose brushes up against Donna’s clit and her raw scent floods her senses.

Immediately, she gets to work. She moans against the other woman’s skin as she laps at every bit of wetness of Donna’s soaked pussy.

She feels, in return, how soft ghostly fingers slide against her slit and dip in a little. Never enough to push into her, just barely enough to give her a taste of pleasure.

An unspoken promise of a reward.

She moves her lips and tongue eagerly, Donna’s quiet moans fuelling her. The sweet taste of her arousal almost feeds into her efforts and the heat between her legs, as well as the slick wetness gathering there.

“Keep going, suck on my clit, my darling”

Daniela moans at the now familiar voice in her head, as well as the gentle pull of her hair to have her just where Donna wants her.

She wraps her lips around her pussy and folds and slides her tongue against and across her lover’s clit repeatedly, each time growing hungrier and more desperate.

She’s panting and rolling her hips down and against the pair of hands between her legs sliding against her slit and groping her ass and thighs shamelessly.

And Donna? She’s experiencing what can only be described as sweet ecstasy. Her eye is lidded when she glances down at what is hers and hers alone, the beautiful woman squirming and moaning on her knees, flushed face hidden between her thighs, bright pink pussy lips teased as she sucks on Donna’s dusty pink ones.

To some extend, she feels an extra set of thrills from taking the woman like this, from snatching her right underneath her family’s nose. No, Daniela may be born into house Dimitrescu, but she is of house Beneviento, now, Donna will see to it.

Her fingers tighten their grip on the younger woman’s auburn hair as she feels herself be brought closer to her orgasm.

A few more seconds, more hushed moans and groans, gasps and breathless whimpers even, and Daniela feels the woman cum just when her tongue pushes into her.

She is pulled up mere moments later, the hand sliding down and gripping at her neck guiding her to her tiptoes for Donna’s lips to come against her own.

“Good Girl”

Daniela moans at the low voice whispering in her mind. The groping touches only add to her desperation and want.

She is guided backwards, her arms and hands so flush against her back one could think they are tied or still held there by the phantom hands.

Donna smirks at this as she sits down on the soft, red mattress. Naturally, her sweet Daniela follows.

She allows the woman’s hands and phantom hands to guide her, her lips parted and allowing gentle moans and heavy breaths to pass by as she is set on Donna’s smooth, strong thigh.

She leans forwards eagerly, her lips hungrily pushing against soft unpainted ones. Both women moan gently. This close, both feel each other’s skin and smell one another’s scent. Daniela feels utterly consumed by the doll maker’s scent and the pollen around her, luring her closer and closer and creating more wetness between her thighs. Donna, in turn, feels more and more obsessed the more time she spends in such proximity to her doll. She craves her, can never be too close to her.

“Spread your legs. I wish to feel you”, she whispers against the younger woman’s ear. Again, her good girl obeys without hesitation.

She spreads her thighs and hovers just above Donna’s.

“Hha- A-Ah!”, she mewls upon feeling two fingers snake between her pussy lips and push inside. No virgin, certainly, but nonetheless the length of Donna’s fingers surprises the redhead.

She arches her back and grips her lover’s shoulders tightly, her lips parting wider and her moans and gasps increasing in volume when the fingers are thrust in and out of her at their full length.

“My lo-love!”, she cries out. She commands her arms to move and her hands to reach down at the fast pace, yet it’s as if they are glued to her back. She moans and rocks her hips, helpless to the overwhelming pleasure bestowed upon her.

Never has she had a maid this deep in her, this skilled with her fingers. Never have her nails been trimmed enough for her to curl them in herself or push them in properly without squeaking at the pain and damage they caused to her insides.

Donna, though? Yes. Lady Beneviento has no such problems. She easily finds and targets the most sensitive spots inside of her doll, with her G Spot being the one focused on the most.

Poor Daniela is a moaning, rocking, squirming and shivering mess. Her back arched and head thrown back, she can only rock her hips against the hand and thigh offered to her to attempt to regain some control.

“My beautiful doll”

“What a sight for sore eyes you are”

“You feel utterly soft on your insides, my little Daniela”

“At last, I am to claim you”

Daniela shrieks as the fingers of one ghostly hand shove between her lips. She feels her own wetness smear against the inside of her mouth and the back of her throat, then shrieks as another forces her flush against her lover.

Suddenly, the pollen surrounding her begins to burn. Daniela moans and cries at both the pleasure and pain given and forced upon her. She feels, slowly, how the burning pollen digs into the soft skin of her back, a brand made forever in the shape of the Beneviento house sigil.

Her first orgasm comes fast, even before the branding is completed. Tears of pleasure, happiness, pain and overstimulation mix with those caused by her constant gagging on the fingers down her throat, and each reflects in Donna’s dark eye.

The woman watches hungrily as Daniela’s wet pussy swallows a third finger and takes it inside, her body growing weaker and weaker, shivering and trembling on her lap. And yet, she keeps begging for more, endures the pain on her backside with the reminder that it shall mark her as Donna’s.

And such, Daniela comes again, her body trembling and caught by phantom hands and real ones alike.

Her body lays weak against her lover and her back stings and burns even as the pollen have let up. Yet, a large smile is set on her lips.

“I love you”, she coos dreamily. Donna’s smile widens. She nearly lets on about the darkness within her. Of course, her naive little Daniela believes to be head over heels in love. After all; her Mother kept telling her, she falls too fast. And her protective eldest sister, Bela, kept reminding her sister, she’s naive, she’s young, she’s gullible. She keeps falling for the wrong people. And of course, Cassandra, who would always insist Daniela is too clouded by the bubble of false promises and expectations from fantasy books to ever hold a proper relationship.

Now, Donna will ensure all this is only reserved for her.

With a smile on her lips, she kisses Daniela’s soft lips again, engulfing both of them in shadows.

[priestessame]

The Emperor's most favored II

FLUFF Part 2. As requested by 🎐annon ^^ I'm for sure making this a series of one shots~

Warnings: Slightly suggestive (^^) Fluff, angst, slight violence, name-calling, mentions of blood, and bullying. Sleepy mornings~~

Summary: The preparations of the lantern rite, bring unwelcome ghosts of the past.

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You rolled awake, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Your eyes adjusted in the dimly lit chambers. You turned so that you were resting on your side, your sight catching the familiar silhouette sitting across from you.

The desk was only a few feet away from your shared bed. Now it had almost become routine for you to stir awake, only to find him like this. The mahogany silks pooled around his waist. You watched as your husband leaned over his desk. Your eyes followed the vast expanse of his bare back, golden and black scales trailing down the spine, the muscles flexing as he continued to work on his scrolls. Dark and gold arms constantly at work.

It was only the early hours of the morning, even before sunrise. But even gentle morning light wasn't allowed in. Even if the emperor was writing, special care was taken so that the curtains in his chambers were shut tightly. The only light allowed, was the dim lantern placed close to his desk. Strong enough to just illuminate the papers scattered around him. His hand was gentle as he wrote, careful not to wake you from the noise of the ink pen scratching on the scrolls. So much care, just to make sure you wouldn't be disturbed.

But the absence of his warmth would make you stir from your sleep nevertheless. Most of the time you would fall back asleep again. But some mornings, just like today you couldn't help but gathered the silks around you, wrapping them around your body before sliding off the bed.

You sunk into him, wrapping your arms around his back. You murmured against the crook of his neck as the emperor chuckled. "Did I wake you again, beloved?" He asked.

"No," You replied, pressing down the urge to drag him back to your bed. If it was up to you, you would have rolled around in each other's warmth, limbs entangled until late afternoon. Fortunately for Liuye and unfortunately for you, the emperor had more discipline than that. Once awake, the emperor would be consumed with his duties. Not that you felt neglected because of it. He always found time, especially for you.

You pressed yourself against him tighter, his skin felt feverishly warm this early in the morning. You looked over his shoulder, at the scrolls pulled open along the desk. The whorls and runes on it were enchantingly beautiful, and the strange script he seemed so fluent in was completely alien to you.

Although now your husband, there was so much of him that was still alien to you. How many languages was he fluent in that you couldn't even begin to understand? You would wonder. There may always be a certain distance between you and his past. Something you wondered if you could ever transcend. But most of your reservations would melt away the moment you felt his touch.

Morax pulled you into his lap and you went willingly. His arms guide you to straddle him. His fingers cupped your face before he pressed his mouth on your forehead. His breath brushed against the hollow of your throat. As he murmured sweet praises, you couldn't help but laugh against his mouth. For a man known for his restraint, he couldn't seem to keep his hands off you. His fingers slid under the silk sheets you had pulled, sliding up your torso. He kissed you between your breasts, lips lingering just above your heart. "You should get more rest beloved," He said,

You brushed the hair framing his face, "Come back to bed Morax." You said through a pout, throwing your hands around his neck, "It's cold." His fingers dug into your hips, it was insane how his slightest touch would send your mind reeling. The scrolls on the desk were long discarded as he scooped you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you towards your bed, setting you down while sinking down himself.

His fingers brushed your cheek lovingly, after all, who was he to deny the empress of Liyue?

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It was late in the afternoon when the news reached you. With the emperor and his general out, you and Shi Lian sat in your study, trying your hand at another game of chaurang. The game board was spread out before the two of you, colored tiles arranged across it. Your lady-in-waiting rolled the dice, too engrossed in the game as Ganyu continued to narrate the finished details for the upcoming Lantern rite.

As excited as you were for the festival, you could hardly keep up with all the details. Especially now when Shi Lian was getting increasingly good at forming her tiles.

“And so Lady Nigguang wished to know your preferences.” Ganyu reported.

You gave the Adeptus an endearing look, “Ganyu, tell Ningguang that I completely trust her… aesthetic judgment.” You said, “Swans, deers, frogs- whatever she deems fit.”

Shi Lian moved her rose-carved tile forward, an intelligent attempt at defense but you saw through it immediately.

“As you wish, Your highness,” Ganyu replied.

“T-that’s not fair!” Shi Lian wailed, as you replaced her tile with your own. You laughed at her, feeling so at ease at the moment that nothing could have prepared you for the message the Yuheng had for you.

Keqing walked in just as Ganyu was about to depart, her gait as nonchalant as Ganyu’s was respectful.

“The Mililith have reported early visitors for the lantern rite, apparently.” Keqing continued, her tone as unbothered as ever.

“Visitors already?” You asked, although the lantern rite wasn’t that far away, you weren’t expecting any visitors at the palace for at least another week.

“From your homeland your highness.” Keqing said, “The carriages that brought them to the royal palace both bore the royal emblem.”

Your ears rang. Unconsciously you had dug into the gold-cut pawn so hard, it cut into your palm drawing blood.

Keqing's face twisted, "Clearly they didn't even bother sending a raven to announce their arrival." She started.

But you weren't listening, your hands going very very cold. "Who is it?" You asked, breath shallowing as you spoke.

"The 2nd princess and her Lord husband, your highness," she replied, her tone sensing your sudden discomfort. The two watched as the walls of safety you had built around yourself shattered like glass. You felt as if you were underwater.

"Your highness?"

Your eyes snapped towards her, “Take me there.” You said breathlessly.

Ganyu shifted on her feet, “Your highness, it might be better to wait for the emperor to return-

“No,” You replied at once, a morbid silence falling in the study. You stood up, placing the tile back on the board. Shi Lian followed your suit clumsily. “M-my Lady-“ she started. But it was like your mind had gone entirely numb.

“Take me to her, now.”

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She was already in your chambers, her tall silhouette reaching to inspect the ornate draperies.

Saili turned towards you, lips pulling themselves in a perfect smile. "Sister!" She exclaimed, reaching a hand out as if she expected an embrace. You felt as if you were about to throw up. Anger and disgust clouding your mind. Why, why after all these years was, she here again? Hadn't she made your life miserable enough?

You gave Shi lian a quick nod, dismissing her. Your lady-in-waiting gave you a concerned look but obliged. She scurried outside your chambers, leaving the two of you alone.

Your fingers curled, and you closed them in a fist, trying to hide the tremble. "I hope the weather was kind to you, sister." you tried.

"Look how lovely." She said, dismissing you entirely. Her fingers glided through the ornate curtains in your chambers. She inspected the fabric like she wanted to rip them up. She turned towards you again,

Her face was as beautiful as you remembered. Chestnut hair and wide eyes. The kind of beauty that makes people falter their steps. But those who could see past that really saw her crudeness. Out of the ones making your life miserable back home, the 2nd princess was one of the worst.

She walked towards you. You unknowingly took a step back for everyone she took forward until your dresser hit the back of your legs. "I'm afraid my husband, was rather upset at not receiving at least an invitation for your first Lantern rite." She said.

Her smile was razor sharp, "I thought they held high regard for family here in lieuye."

Family? You wanted to ask her, strong words for people who basically sold you off for convenience. Her face was close to you now. She smiled painfully wide as her fingers reached for your sleeves, "How long would it have taken to dye the fabric this deep blue?" She mused.

"I wouldn't know." You replied, mouth going dry. For that moment, you were back in your homeland. Fear coating your insides, your fingers dug into the dresser behind you.

They had called her the nation's first love when she was born. Lovely even as a child, she was perfect in everything she did. Even her most venomous words and actions were simply endearing to everyone else. Her violence was written off as harmless tantrums, especially because they were all directed toward you.

It had never mattered to her that her sapphire accessories were way more precious than yours. That given your status, you never were any competition to her, you couldn't be. Maybe it was that very reason that gave her a kick out of it, knowing you couldn't fight back.

Like ripping apart wings of insects, she liked to yank anything you were wearing off of you. Ripping out clumps of your hair as she pulled off your moon-stone hairpin in one tantrum, or tearing out the skin off your ear lobes when she demanded she wanted to wear your earrings instead. Her fingers would dig into you ruthlessly, nails scrapping your skin, the grip leaving marks across your hands.

Her mother, the princess consort would just pull her in her arms and laugh her tantrums off. Coaxing her with talks of sweets or new silks. Leaving you hunched over yourself, blood trickling down your face. Even then what hurt more was that you didn't have anyone to cry to. So, you had just stopped the tears or pain and anger, pulling on an emotional armour even her nails couldn't carve out.

As you two had gotten older, her violence towards you had receded, and she had just discarded you like a toy she no longer wanted to play with. To your own disgust, you were more than happy to be unseen. Elated that she had finally grown tired of you. But the fear would crawl up now and then. That one day as she saw you brush past her in the halls, she would remember the old doll she had thrown away. Wanting to rip it apart again. 

"Didn't you get lucky Y/n?" She mused, backing away from you.

She gave out a sigh looking around your chambers. She walked around curiously, her long robes flowing behind her. You felt pinned under her gaze, pushed into a corner just like you used to when you were younger. Suddenly seen again. The shadows that you thought you had left in your past, crawling back. You pushed through the pain, pulling your eyes away from her figure.

"Does your ship leave tonight sister?" You asked hating how your voice still wavered. Saili let go of the amulet she was inspecting, letting it clatter to the floor.

She had the audacity to look offended, "Why Y/n, you make it sound as if you want me gone." She laughed, her dazzling smile cutting into your skin. You felt the disgust coil in your stomach, although honey-tongued now, you remembered her morbid smile as she had told you about Morax's ugly scales and horns. How his talons would rip through your skin when he tried to touch you.

"It's a long trip back home." You replied, "It would be terrible if you got caught in sea-storms."

"It is a long trip, isn't it?" She said, your stomach dropped at her tone, "It's days and days on the sea, so much of the same blue makes you sick. You start wondering if there's anything alive this far into the ocean at all." She gave a chuckle, "Doesn't it feel like the ship would sail off the edge of the earth? She continued, suddenly sounding a lot more malicious.

You found yourself holding your breath, waiting for the mask to fall.

"We threw you away to the remote end of the earth and you still managed to wobble up like the trash you are." She sneered out.

"Sai-" You tried to reason with her, but you knew your words wouldn't matter. Her expression became more erratic, thoughts of who she was and where she was standing clouded by her rage.

"Just because they gave you a pretty jade crown doesn't really make you a queen, low-born." She growled out, her hands reached for your face and you flinched. She curled her fist into your thick hair, yanking you hard.

For the first few seconds, your body shut down from habit. Going limp against her anger, mind retracting within itself taking you away from the situation entirely. You were far too used to it. Far too used to just shutting your eyes close until her tantrum was over.

"Don't forget your mother was just a common musician whore." she said, her breath putrid on your face. For the first time in years, you reached for your anger. And the beast leaped up like it was waiting for your one command all along.  And just like that, you snapped.

She gasped as you threw her down, your jade ornament clattering down with her. Your hair tumbled down, falling around your face.

Her eyes were wide with shock. Her figure sprawled on the floor, looking up at you, mouth stuck half-open.

"Enough." You breathed out. Your body practically convulsed from the pent-up rage. Unlike her haphazard rage, yours was composed and cold. "Touch me again," You spoke through the tremble, your voice dangerously low "And I’ll have you thrown off Qingyun Peak. "

In the moment of silence and shock, you thought you had actually won.

"How dare you?" she said, "Do you think you can command me? You wrench?" she screamed at you.

In that split second, the door flung open. Keqing was a blur of violet. She moved so swiftly; your own eyes couldn’t keep up with her. Her blade was pure lightning. Within a split second, she was between the two of you.

She wrung the 2nd princess’s wrist behind her as she cried out in pain, "Daring to touch the Empress will cost you much more than just your hand." She said.

"Let her go Keqing." You said sadly, much to your Yuheng's surprise. "She poses no threat to me." you completed.

Before you, she really looked pathetic. The frizzled hair, fingers still tightly curled around your jade crown, her eyes wide and whimsical. She pointed it accusingly at you, "You have no right," she sneered.

"Get the princess's ship ready." You commanded, "She will not be staying for the lantern rite."

"Making an enemy of your own kingdom, do you think your Beloved emperor wouldn't cast you away if he knew your true bloodline?" she whimpered at you, already lost.

"Is that so?"

The sudden voice surprised you too. A voice that could move mountains.

Morax stood at the end of the room, flanked by Xiao and Bosacius by his side. He wore traditional liyue clothes, gold and ebony robes, with a rounded neck. They fell across his tall frame like a waterfall of dark colors. Dragon scales were sewn in along the elaborate sleeves, the beast made of gold thread, curling around the bodice.

He walked inside the chamber, unforgiving eyes pinned on the 2nd princess. “Slander against the Empress herself is high treason.” He said, "Just the thought of profane words against her is subject to Lingchi."

Her face dropped with horror.

His voice was still low, yet stripped of any kindness. Urging, beckoning her to try and challenge his authority. It sent chills down your spine. "You will ride the ship willingly, or I will have you and your husband impaled to the mast on the way back."

Silent tears ran down her face as she dared not looked up at any of you, surprisingly you felt no real satisfaction. Finally realizing how little she had always been compared to you. Keqing moved to take your ornament from her hands but you stopped her midway.

"Keep it." You said to her, hold its weight for the rest of your life. Let it remind you of where you really stand. "It's the closest you'll ever come to holding true power."

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 0 ♥---- (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 0 ♥---- (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 0 ♥----

His fingers moved deftly as he fixed your hair. It was just the two of you again, your silks pooling around your frame as he placed you in front of the mirror. Experienced fingers running through your locks gently. The afternoon had bled into a crimson evening, painting your shared chamber a deep auburn. The failing light caught the scattered gold embellishments around you, making them glitter faintly. Not wanting to break the somber silence, you couldn’t help but stare at the gold pieces instead. The beading of the draperies, the curved points of the chandelier, and most of all the molten-gold color of his irises.

You winced as his fingers brushed against a particularly sore part and he halted at once.

"I'm sorry." He said finally.

Morax wrapped his arms around your frame, "I promised that I would protect you." He said, sounding broken. He hung his head on your shoulder, and the lamp in your room flickered. "And yet I have failed you." His voice was heavy like you had never heard before. He hugged you lightly, as if he put any more strength in this touch, you would shrug it off.

The whole thing was so absurd that you laughed as you leaned back into him. Wrapping your hands around his arm. It echoed around the room, you looked up at him, his eyes wide with confusion.

“You’re a bit of a fool aren’t you emperor?” you said.

“I couldn’t even stop them from hurting you.” He replied.

You sighed against his warmth, shaking your head softly.

"My past was mine to confront," you told him.

“Y/n-“ He began again, “Even so..”

“All my life, I have only had bruises.” You replied, “Some of hurt and some of shame.” Your fingers ran over his as you inspected the bump on your head, “For the first time, these don’t feel so bad.”

“If it wasn’t for the peace you give me Morax, I would have been ashamed of them all my life.” You said, sinking back into his warmth.

Being held like this was the safest you had ever felt in your entire life. “The kind of safety I feel with you cannot be measured in actions.”

“So,” You picked up the ornate comb beside you, “Just go back to brushing my hair.” He finally chuckled, deep voice ringing in his chest. He lifted your hair from the name of your neck, pressing a feverish kiss on your skin, “As you wish.”

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 0 ♥---- (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 0 ♥---- (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 0 ♥----

Ayyy I finally finished this one ^^

[chemdisaster]

cat dad au fic! in which kitten comforts scar. few things you need to know for context - "the isaacs" is a silly name scar gave to the heroes who would bully him, kitten uses a bunch of neos, of which i'm using xit/xitself in this fic, and for a few years when scar first found kitten he was under a lot of stress with work and they both had a bad time. that is all

"I like this one." 

Scar hums as Kitten hands him another picture. In this one, the two of them are dressed up as Hotguy, both laughing as a tiny Kitten points a fake arrow at his chest. Touching his finger to the cascading reds and oranges, he inhales the smell of memories and watches the echoes flash by. 

"I have captured you, Hotguy! Give up if you know what's good for you!" 

"No! Never! You won't catch the tail end of my whiskers, Catguy!"

"Not if I use my special bow! You're dead, Hotguy! I will capture you and I'll—"

As joy rings out in the silent air of reminiscence, a smile warmed with time spreads on his face.

"Yeah. I like this one, too."

Carefully setting the photograph aside, Scar moves on to the next one. With Ari out this afternoon, he and Kitten spontaneously decided to clear out some old boxes—and the nostalgia is hitting like nothing else. 

Surrounded by various papers and bundles and scraps, they sit side by side on the floor of his room and exchange quiet comments as they pass around mementos of years past. The atmosphere is peaceful, hushed, and looking from the tiny kitten on the photographs to the grown up cat next to him, Scar can't help but marvel at how long it's been. 

He never thought he'd get here. 

Stifling a laugh into his palm over the picture of small Kitten with a rubber fish and a beard of foam, Scar adds it to the growing collection. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, he looks over at Kitten—

And his heart skips a beat. 

Centred in Kitten's padded hands is an assortment of crumpled papers, familiar as anything Scar wouldn't like to recall. Delicately smoothed out and held together with years old tape, the grid pattern has faded away, but he doesn't need to see the scribbles to immediately recognise them and everything that came with.

 

Art of Kitten that xit was never meant to see jumping at him from the frayed scraps, Scar asks, "Are those...?"

"Hm?" Kitten makes a noise that's more cat than anything. "Oh, these? Yeah, you—you drew them for me, didn't you? I remember I kept finding them in your bag."

"Yeah, I remember you kept going through my things like a nosy feline," Scar jokingly gripes. His grin thins at the edges, "I—I do remember these, yeah."

Drawing on patrols, sketch after sketch to block out the mocking, the insults—getting the drawings ripped from him and torn into tiny pieces right in front of his eyes. Sinking to his knees and cradling the pieces in his hands, tears littering the floor.

He kept them as a reminder of his failures. He never thought they would ever become anything more.

"Why were they torn?" Kitten asks after a while of Scar silently staring at his lap. "Did you not like them?"

Scar doesn't reply. Kitten knows about the mistreatment his old team would put him through, but somehow it still feels shameful, even after all these years, to acknowledge that it happened. That he let it happen, and let it go on for as long as it did because he was too weak to stand up for himself. 

Too bad to realise how that weakness was impacting the people around him.

"Scar."

"I did like them," he says suddenly, vehemence splitting from his tongue. "I liked them so much. It's just, I would always draw on missions and I'd get distracted and, well," Scar shrugs, smiling like it's all right past the bitter lump in his throat, "the Isaacs didn't like that."

"Oh."

He doesn't know why it means so much to him. They're only drawings. Stupid doodles of Kitten to chase away the self-loathing that never really left. They're not even good. And yet here he is, decades past and still getting emotional over things that don't matter. It doesn't matter.

He doesn't matter.

"I thought you were the one who tore them," Kitten blurts out. "I thought you didn't like them, and that's why you tore them. I," he breaks off, his tail curls around his legs. 

"Back when I was a kid, I thought it was because you didn't like me."

Guilt grips Scar's chest. All those years ago, when Kitten would curl up in front of a closed door—the drawings were an attempt at something good. To show him how much he appreciated him when words wouldn't come. And he ruined that, and now he's ruined what was meant to be a simple cozy afternoon.

He ruins everything, he's always known. Somehow it still hurts.

 

.

.

.

.

.

Kitten is worried about Scar.

Has been for a while now, and the torn drawings are only the start of it.

The few years during which little bits of tape would stick to his claws were hard on them both, and even years later xit can't stop the cold dark grey of abandonment from creeping up when xit thinks of that awful time. Staying up late waiting for Scar to come home, only to fall asleep and wake the next day to an empty flat—it was soul-sucking.

But he healed. He's not there anymore. Lately, he's not so sure about Scar.

A good few minutes pass before xit decides to speak up.

"It was really hard for you back then, wasn't it?"

Focus sinking into nowhere, Scar jerks as he breaks out of his daze. 

"Huh, what?" 

"Those first few years. When it was just you and me. Taking care of a child while working the way you did at the time can't have been easy," Kitten probes. He doesn't expect anything but the deflection he's come to know, and he wishes Scar would be honest with him. 

He wishes Scar would be honest with himself. 

"Well, I mean—there were some rough patches, yeah," his friend stammers out. "But—"

"You would cry yourself to sleep."

Scar's head shoots up, the dark bags under his eyes never seemed more prominent.

"I heard. Every time."

He looks down, "I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologise," Kitten says quickly. "Just...we keep talking about what it was like for me, yeah? But we never talk about what it was like for you."    

Abruptly, Scar gets up and walks over to the bed, sitting down, rocking back and forth as he pulls his sleeves over his fingers. 

"It's—it doesn't matter. I'm okay now."

Kitten follows, clambering up next to him and peering past the curtain of brown hair at the face hidden beneath. 

"I'm not sure you are."

Scar's expression crumples for a split second.

"Don't worry about me, Kitten," he says. "I'll—it's not your job to look after me."

Kitten scoots closer, xits tail lays itself over his back. Scar doesn't speak and xit doesn't either; words are difficult and xit's content to sit here staring at the old wallpaper, making out dirty kitchens and wine-stained floors in the peeling vinyl. Stillness can hold all the sentences within its grasp, he's learned—he'll never ask for more than what the quiet can give him.

Outside, damning clouds begin to gather as a shuddering inhale stumbles its way out of Scar's lungs.

"Sometimes it felt like it was all for nothing."

The confession breaks the silence, but does not break the gentle swishing motions of Kitten's tail against his spine. 

"It was just—so difficult," he continues, letters spilling out of his mouth like an avalanche of wretched revelations. "Nothing was working. I spread myself thin every day and I still just constantly felt like I was doing it for nothing. And I'm—I'm sorry."

Scar's hands thrust upwards, he trips over another inhale. 

"I tried so hard to do what was best for you and I just ended up hurting you—every time. And I just," he bends his head, swipes at his eyes, "maybe I'm not meant to be good. Maybe it would be better if I just...wasn't."

His features twist, eyebrows inching higher on his forehead; he looks devastated, wrought with grief for what could have been, what he should have been and everything he never was. Decades of regret play in the creases of his skin as he tugs on his hair, blinking rapidly in the way he always does—the way that always fails. 

Kitten was never one for words, but in this moment he thinks that maybe what he struggles to give is what Scar needs. He needs to exist, and touch not meant to hurt can only do so much.

Stillness can hold all the sentences within its grasp, but phantom promises won't stitch up an age-old wound.

"Scar, you did—so much for me," xit says, and Scar's back jumps in a tremor. "For so many people. I wouldn't be here if you weren't."

Eyes squeezed shut, the other emits a low noise, "I hurt you." 

"You talked to me and gave me drawings and found me a therapist. You did more to help than anyone else ever could."

Scar shakes his head, shakes it like Kitten's words are incomprehensible, impossible to believe, and maybe they are. Leaning forward, trembling hands lifting to press to his chin, he curls in on himself, shoulders hunching like a plea—a plea for Kitten to stop saying things that he can't, won't let himself believe are real.

Kitten does not relent. 

"Look, I know you have this fear in you that you'll hurt anyone you rely on but that's not true. You deserve support, that's what we're here for."

"No, I—these are my own struggles, and I—I can deal with it—" 

Scar's voice bounces up like marbles off the wooden floor; the tears he's desperately wiping off his cheeks render his assurances anything but genuine. Clouds descending in the streams of his despair, he's never looked more damaged.

"You took care of me for so long," Kitten says softly, reaching out for a man who won't let himself accept that love never had to be earned. "Let yourself be taken care of, too."

As his friend continues to shake his head in denial, he thinks of a rainy evening, a door left ajar, a room filled with muffled sobs—and he thinks of two friends, both hurt by the world, both having found healing within each other. 

"I like your ears. Remember?"

Scar slumps, defeated. Loud, uncontrollable weeping tears through him like a wildfire and Kitten pulls him close, rubbing a clawed hand over his back, muttering, "Relax. You don't have to be strong all the time."

Raking his claws over quivering vertebrae, listening to choked cries get suppressed against his rumbling chest, he leans back against the blankets and pulls Scar with him, carding thin fingers through long brown strands as his friend settles, trembling, atop his body. Scar's hands are freezing cold, the wire under his feet looms ever farther down below— 

And Kitten knows in this moment that all that he needs is for someone to make sense of him. And xit knows that, finally, xit understands.

And when Scar drapes himself over xit in an instinctual, unguarded yearning to be near, xit drops xits head into the crook of his neck and doesn't look up and begs that this moment would never end. Kitten's heart may not shine, but he would give all the gold in his possession to mend the cracks of Scar's tainted soul.

And as he drifts to a doze with his friend in his arms, he thinks back to the torn drawings—taped together, hidden away as something to be treasured. And xit thinks, maybe broken doesn't have to be forever. 

Under Kitten's hold, for the first time in years, Scar starts to believe that maybe everything he did wasn't for nothing.

[luminyxoxo]

The ruffle collar of his shirt is beginning to irritate him. With a huff, Miya Atsumu raises a gloved hand to tug at it, though his attempt is thwarted by his twin brother batting his fingers away.

“Behave.” Osamu tuts, shooting him a warning look.

“Brother, yer truly vexin’ tonight.” Atsumu snaps, opting to cross his arms across his chest in lieu of another attempt.

He will bear with the itch, so long as Osamu keeps his love for violence to himself.

Predictably, Osamu’s face morphs to one of unimpressed.

“Would it kill ya to be on yer best behavior? It is not always we get invited to the capital for a debutante. A special one, at that.”

Atsumu resists the urge to roll his eyes, only so that his brother doesn’t hit him again.

“Ya know what they say of us, ‘Samu. ‘Though we govern the town at the edge of the kingdom, we are mere country folks in their eyes. Should we not align ourselves with our reputation?”

Osamu looks up to the obnoxiously decorated high ceiling in utter defeat.

“The least ya can do is pretend to act like yer status, Baron Miya Atsumu. Do not tarnish the name of our family more than you already did.” Osamu shoots him another warning glance.

Atsumu knows a battle lost when his brother brings in the family name. His shoulders sag.

“Very well. I shall behave lest mama hears of this and have me clean the coop again. If I have to entertain the ton tonight, I shall do it with grace.” Atsumu turns his nose with a sniffle.

“Grace.” Osamu deadpans. “As if ya even have a smidge of it.”

Whatever argument Atsumu has to parry his brother’s insults vanish as the ton stirs with unrestrained excitement. His great height gives him the advantage of peering over the people’s heads, and overhearing snippets of conversations that has him scrunching his nose.

“Now, what excites them to the point of misconduct?” He whispers conspiratorially to Osamu.

His brother succumbs to the misbehavior of rolling his eyes. “as if yer the perfect example of conduct, dearest brother.”

“What?! I have been behavin’-“ Atsumu snaps his mouth shut.

“Do not distract me, ‘Samu. As yer baron, i order ya to strain yer ears and listen to their gossip.”

“The audacity.” Osamu grumbles, but obliges regardless.

Atsumu can barely hear from the jumbled noises but Osamu furrows his eyebrows in deep concentration.

The furrow smoothens out in genuine surprise as his gaze flickers to Atsumu’s curious face.

“It appears that I’ve found out why we were adamantly invited to this debutante.” Osamu whispers.

“Oh, why?” Atsumu can’t fight the almost predatory smile from crawling up his lips.

“The future duke has returned from his studies abroad.” Osamu says, with a knowing look on his face.

Atsumu blinks. “Duke—“

He whips his head around, searching for a glimpse of the scrawny teen he’d seen a handful of times growing up.

There is no sign of him.

“Impossible.” Atsumu scowls, glaring at his brother. “Yer just pullin’ my leg!”

“I do not kid of something untrue.” Osamu defensively says.

Atsumu stares at him. “Are ya, or are ya not the same man who told me he was down with a fever last week just to skip out on a chore?”

Osamu pauses, and relents, “at least, in those that truly matters.”

“Dear brother, yer priorities are truly impressive.”

Osamu smirks, “Thank ya.”

“That was not flattery.”

Osamu looks over his shoulder, and the minuscule shift of his eyes is what makes Atsumu turn.

Instantly, his gaze falls onto a man walking down the grand stair case. Atsumu narrows his eyes, finding familiarity in the new face that he cannot seem to place.

The man is tall, possibly even taller than him. Although his clothes are as dull as starless nights, there is no hiding the regal beauty of the man’s looks. He walks pin straight, with confidence that can be misinterpreted as arrogance. His lips are pressed into a thin, almost anxious line and his coal eyes are staring at nothing ahead of him.

Atsumu recognizes such look of nerves from the mirror within the first few months of his own debut to society.

When his eyes linger on the two spots above the man’s right eyebrow, the familiarity falls into place.

Atsumu gasps as he whirls to Osamu with a look of disbelief.

“Is that not the future Duke, Sakusa Kiyoomi?” He hisses.

Osamu hums appreciatively as he remains staring at Sakusa walking through the crowd which seems to part for him.

“Ya used to despise him, I recalled.”

Atsumu scowls. “He was insufferable!”

Osamu chuckles, reluctantly looking away from the future duke. “And now he’s insufferably handsome.”

Atsumu will not admit to such observation, not even in the name of his family!

“Behave, or I tell ya on ma!”

Osamu laughs.

“As if Ma would ever believe ya, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu can only seethe in silent fury, refusing to admit that Osamu is likely in the right as well.

They fail to notice Sakusa approaching them, until the people around them fall into hushed silence.

Osamu is the first to notice.

“My Lord Duke Sakusa.” Osamu bows lightly, prompting Atsumu to turn around.

Albeit reluctant, Atsumu bows, uttering the same greeting under his breath. He hopes his distaste does not show.

Sakusa glances between them, before his gaze settles on Atsumu.

“Lord Miya Atsumu.” Sakusa greets Atsumu. Then, he does the same for Osamu, correctly placing their names to their persons without struggling.

They have not seen each other in years, yet Sakusa has done what most have failed to do; recognize the twins respectively.

Like the traitor he is, Osamu excuses himself and runs off to the banquet. Atsumu almost calls him back but Sakusa’s gaze pins him to his place.

It appears as if the future duke is searching something in his face, and Atsumu can only return the same favor.

Sakusa has grown.

“Ya weren’t this tall when I last saw ya.” Atsumu blurts in the strangely tensed silence.

A corner of Sakusa’s lips curls upwards. “Nor were you this short.”

Atsumu frowns. “Ya are still as rude as ever.”

Instead of taking offense, Sakusa shakes his head lightheartedly.

“You’re as unfiltered as ever.”

“Are ya goin’ to parrot my every sentence?” Atsumu asks, irritated.

Sakusa chuckles, holds out his hand. “Unless you graciously accept my offer of a dance?”

Atsumu narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“We can catch up to all the years we’ve missed.”

Atsumu reluctantly takes it. “As if I am interested to know.”

Sakusa glances at their hands. “Yet, you are taking my hand, are you not?”

Atsumu stares at him. “Yer really are insufferable.”

Even so, he does not protest as Sakusa leads him to the dance floor.

[drgngutz]

P. - Coast - Luffy x f!soulmate!reader

Prologue

I've decided to cross post this from wattpad, since the teaser I posted seemed to be received so well. If you like this, and would rather get updates right away, I'll post the link to wattpad on my master list :)

I'll be starting a tag list for people who want to be notified for updates and don't use wattpad.

Hope u enjoy, <33

The bustling city created noise all around me. Over the years it's become the background for my rambling thoughts. The rapid and angry beeping of cars, which were always dodging the just-as-angry pedestrians, was as common of an occurrence as the construction going on across from the orphanage's scrawny apartment building. There was rarely ever a time of silence in the big city. The endless annoyance tended to grate on my nerves, and the days were passing slower and slower. A constantly parentless child in her last weeks of high school, there was barely enough money to make ends meet, much less move somewhere quieter. The side job at the convenience store wasn't working out, and having to care for the other kids in the orphanage with such a small amount was getting me nowhere. 

Sighing, I stopped my trudging footsteps and turned my head towards the underside of my arm.

'Hey, I caught you! -M.D.L'

It made me feel worse every time I saw it; the fancy script that tattooed my forearm, close to my wrist and scribed in black ink. The perfectly unmarred scrawls used to make my stomach flip in excitement when I looked at it, but now it was just a constant reminder of what I was lacking. My own soulmate; just another person that didn't seem to want me. 

Most people find their soulmates early in life, since we're gifted the markings of a soulmate at birth. The marks are hereditary depending on what kind you have, ranging from first words spoken (like my own), to seeing a glowing red string attached to their fingers; it all depends on what kind you inherited from your family. People can discover their soulmates as early as ten, though it's globally averaged they meet each other around sixteen to seventeen years old. 

I was seventeen now, and in my final year of high school, so everyday that passed without hearing those words, the more nervous I got. It was possible that I would never meet them with a soulmate mark that didn't give me any information. I couldn't track them, find a picture of them, or communicate with them. Some people on this overpopulated earth are unlucky enough to never meet their soulmate; even unluckier people are born without a mark to match with someone else's. I was more scared of the first option.

No matter how many times I posted online, searched the match websites, or attended special 'soulmate conventions' where thousands gathered in order to meet new people, I still hadn't found mine. Most of the students in my classes had found theirs, and more than ever I felt the peer pressure of needing to find mine. The few friends I had whispered behind my back, some were pitiful, some just flat-out criticizing me for not finding them yet; not that they really counted as friends anymore. To make matters worse, the women who ran the orphanage often reminded me that it was only a matter of time before I would have to leave and make a home of my own. There were years wasted with foster families who I hoped would give me a way out spilled down the drain, only to never stay for too long. Then, I was back at square one. 

The soonest way I could leave this place would be with the support from my soulmate. 

Leaning against the railing of a bridge that I crossed to-and-from school, I stared up at the gloomy sky, feeling the beginnings of rain build up into a thin layer of moisture on my skin. The cars sped by, whirring with life as they switched between lanes or sped past others who were going too slow for their liking. 

If I could speed past this point of my life like those cars, past the dullness of each passing day, past the hopelessness of my future; I would take that chance in a heartbeat. I could open a new chapter of my life, try to find some sense of self, maybe get the chance to find my passions. I loved the kids at the orphanage, them being my only 'family' left in this world, but it wasn't the same when compared to the idea of finding the one person you belong with. Someone who wants you for all that you are. I've been looking for that my whole life.

A low creak sounded, then a snap! Soon, I didn't have the support of the railing behind me.

Blinded by my brief desperation, I didn't readily take notice that I was starting to fall backwards; Stunned silent as I watched the metal rail of the bridge swing in disconnection above me. Small pieces of the metal followed my tracks as I began the plummet towards the rushing waters of the river below.

Stomach in my throat, I couldn't scream even if I wanted to. Falling silently to my death, heart racing, the delayed fear kicking in when I heard less of the rumbling cars and more of the rushing water beneath me. I finally started to understand that I was going to die.

My hair whipped around, a gust of wind blowing it into my eyes. I closed them instinctively, gritting my teeth with all of my muscles tensed so tight that they began to cramp.

I couldn't breath, couldn't see, couldn't feel.

The river below me flew and clashed with a ferocity; like the gnashing teeth of a beast.

It all went numb.

And then, I couldn't hear anything.

...

Slowly, I could register a difference. The soft sound of rushing wind around me. It was a lot warmer, coupled with the lack of the river noise from before. It was almost... gentle.

"Am I... dead?" I hadn't realized the words were said out loud until I felt my lips move, barely hearing my whispers over the wind, which was billowing harshly and picking up speed.

Opening my eyes I was met with a bright blue sky, the sun shining through the fluffy white clouds that were splattered across the scene. A small bird crossed the sky in front of me, blocking the rays of the sun for just a moment before it was out of sight again.

I blinked, wondering if I really was dead, before gazing at the (h/c) hairs that were flowing around my view.

Dazed, I took a glance below me.

It looked like a very large body of water; an ocean, to be exact.

What the hell was an ocean doing in the city?

Speaking of the city, there was none. It was vast, open space. Not a single landmass in sight. So, I was falling towards the ocean. An ocean that just sort of appeared, and not the river that I was previously about to drown in.

It took another moment before realizing the repeating danger; I was falling. Falling towards my death a second time. And at this height, a height much higher than when I had fallen off of the bridge, all of my bones would break and be pushed into my body. If the current didn't kill me, then the internal bleeding definitely would.

Tears bubbled up in my eyes. When my brain and body caught up to each other, I realized how close I had gotten to the water, and I was screaming shrilly before I could stop myself.

Terror ripped through me. After just having to accept the idea of dying in my fall off of the bridge, I was now flung into another gruesome death; but this time my brain had enough time to understand what was going on. There was no surviving this. I was either in hell, or stuck in my last moments; experiencing the fear of my own death on repeat. My vision was blurry as I choked on a sob.

The water was getting close... close, closer still.

Did I really have to go through this again? Was there no way I could survive this?

The instinctual, fearful process started again when I got within two-hundred feet of the water. I could hear the gentle lapping of the waves, now.

My teeth and eyes clenched shut, muscles tensing again to brace for the pain, heart racing for the incoming impact.

This was it. I was going to die. Again.

When the waves became the only thing that I could hear anymore, I felt a sudden pressure around my abdomen.

I was yanked to the side with a whiplash that was near breakneck speed. Grabbing at the squishy material around my waist for some sort of support, I opened my eyes right before I whacked into something solid. With a cry, we were both sent sprawling to the ground.

A low groan vibrated the object that I was now laying on, warm and firm, before I repeated the same sound; body aching from the fearful tension and then the rough collision. The surface beneath us rocked side to side, and I had to place a hand on the wooden boards beneath us to steady my trembling body before I fell over. Now on my knees between his thighs, I heard a shuffling in front of me.

Shaking my head, I opened my teary eyes to find the face of a boy right in front of mine. When our gazes met, he broke out into an enormous, adorable smile.

"Hey, I caught you!"

Chapter One

[herehavesomeheadcanons]

Seraph of the End x reader… and playing with their ears/fangs!

I can’t be the only weirdo on here obsessed with pointy ears and vampire fangs, can i? There really isn’t enough content acknowledging how attractive pointy ears and fangs are (unless it involves biting!).  But maybe that’s just me. Sorry for the long-ass post, but i added some mini one-shots into the mix this time! And, holy SHIT i did NOT expect to discover a talent for writing suggestive xReader oneshots.

Tw: some rather ✨suggestive✨ Content. 16+

Hoo boy, i love being lazy and nabbing images off pinterest and google-

Ferid Bathory

🤍♦️This bastard loves it when you play with his ears. They’re surprisingly sensitive; Just a little bit of rubbing is enough to make him a blushing mess! He’s gonna make some pretty sus noises, too. Are you really all that surprised?

🤍♦️ “Little lamb, just what do you think you’re doing?” He asks, as you reach for one of his long, pointed ears.

“I just want to touch your ears,” You chirp happily, unfazed by his sharp and curious stare.

“now what made you want to do tha~ aht~? ah~!” He sighs as you gently fondle his ear.

You freeze, not sure what to make of his reaction. Is he pretending, perhaps? Could this be a playful act? The blush creeping up his regal cheeks certainly seems genuine enough.

Ferid clears his throat. “Please… please continue,” he says in a shaky tone.

You carefully continue to rub his ear. The vampire noble seems to enjoy this attention immensely. 

“ahh~ mmm, yes~ that feels nice~” he chuckles, and pulls you closer. His thin, crafty arms snake their way around your waist as he begins to pepper your face with soft kisses. Your free hand reaches up to play with his other ear. His melodious sighs get louder. The sly noble kisses his way down your jawline, to your soft, warm neck. The feeling of his cold lips on your sensitive neck draws a gentle moan from you.  “Ah~ M- master Ferid~” you whine. As you rub his pointed ears a bit harder, you hear the familiar sound of his low, seductive purr. You know exactly what you’re in for, and there’s no escaping your fate now.

🤍♦️aaaaaaanyway… If you decide to stick your fingers in his mouth to fondle his fangs, he’s going to bite you. That’s just how he rolls. Why would you put your hand anywhere near his mouth if you didn’t want to be bitten? Aside from that, he also really enjoys having his fangs rubbed. They’re incredibly sensitive, hence why biting people feels so good. Get ready for more suggestive noises on his part, it just feels so good!

Lacus Welt

💜✨ Lots of protesting, until you actually manage to get ahold of his ear. Then he’s gonna melt into your touch like a little vampire puddle. Lacus is all about the pleasure, so it makes sense that he’d love to have you fondling his ears.

💜✨ “Cut it out!” He protests.

“Oh come on,” you sulk, “I just want to touch your ears! They’re so cool!”

“But WHY?” He demands. “What is so special about my ears that makes you feel the need to touch them?”

“I dunno. They’re just neat and I wanna touch them!” Successfully breaking past his defenses, you grab hold of his ear. It’s soft, and cold to the touch, just like the rest of him.

“Damn it, aren’t you supposed to listen to whatever I say?” He begins, “You insolent little-”

His speech falters as you begin to rub his ear between two of your fingers. Lacus freezes, and his eyes go wide. The purple-haired vampire hasn’t needed to breathe in several centuries, but he finds himself panting as his face flushes with this wonderful new feeling. He leans into your touch, wanting more.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch your ears~?” You tease him.

“Shut up and keep going,” he commands.  You happily oblige him. Within minutes, his head is on your lap. Whenever he isn’t moaning in delight, he’s purring loudly. He keeps a firm grip on your thigh the entire time. It’s quite clear to you that he enjoys what you’re doing.

Your brain graces you with what you think is an excellent idea. You gently guide his head up so his chin is resting on your shoulder. Hearing his delightful moans as such close proximity is really starting to turn you on.

“Wha~ what are you doing~?” He asks.

A loud groan escapes his lips as you nibble on his ear. You run your tongue along the top edge, and he grabs onto your shoulders with a shaky death grip. He’s leaning close, so close to you, as if he’s trying to fuse your bodies. His shaky panting and frenzied moaning have you feeling rather ‘hot and bothered’, so to speak.

💜✨ Very confused if you try to stick your fingers in his mouth, and will probably bite you. Once you start touching those sensitive fangs, however, he’s addicted. He’ll randomly grab your hand and start nibbling on your fingers to get you to rub them.

Rene Simm

🖤♦️ One of the least dramatic reactions out there. He’ll look at you with a “what the fuck are you doing?” expression. Once you start fondling his ears, the only sign that he likes it is the blush on his face and his low purring. He might close his eyes and sigh, if he’s in a particularly relaxed mood.

🖤♦️ “What the hell do you think you’re doing, livestock?” The emo vampire gives you a tired, questioning look.

“I just want to touch your ears,” you explain.

“Why?” He asks.

You shrug. “They’re just pretty.”

He gives an amused snort. His ears, pretty? Why his ears, of all things? He’ll never understand humans and their weird interests.

You gently rub his ear, and he lets out a surprised grunt. What is this strange warmth fluttering in his stomach? It feels so nice…

You chuckle as you hear him start to purr. He looks away from you, staring off into the distance, and his face flushes bright red.  “such a tsundere,” you chide him. “Why can you never just admit that you like my attention? Your purring is a dead giveaway.”

“Shut it, livestock.” He growls.

You move closer, turning his head towards you so that you can reach his other ear. His tired eyes seem to stare directly into your soul, but that adorable blush and his non-stop purring offset his intimidating aura. Not that you were ever really intimidated by him. To you, he was just your cute little emo vampire.

Rene closes his eyes; a slight sigh escapes his lips, barely more than a light exhale. But coming from Rene, this kind of expression was like a loud cry of pleasure.

“Just admit that it feels good,” you say smugly.

“Never.” The word comes out airily, almost a sigh in itself. The dark-haired vampire is in absolute ecstasy, but no casual observer would ever be able to tell just from looking at him. Only you, who seated yourself close enough to hear his quiet sighs and deep purring, could tell how much he was enjoying himself.

🖤♦️ If you decide to try touching his fangs, he’ll simply give you the most tired, done-with-your-shit look you’ve ever received. His expression will soften as you proceed to toy with his highly sensitive fangs. Oh, and he’ll purr for you. Cute, huh?

Urd Geales

💡He’s startled, for sure. I mean, you just reached up and started molesting his ears! And it felt good! He struggles to keep his composure, but he struggles in vain. Your soft fingers feel so good on his sensitive ears! Better not try it in public, though. If anyone else is around, he’ll promptly smack your hand away. He has a reputation to maintain, after all.

💡 “Aahhh~ very nice, (y/n).” The second progenitor’s relaxed purrs fill the room as you massage his tense shoulders. His scarlet eyes are closed, and a small smile resides on his calm, picture-perfect face. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, darling.” You smile.  As you watch him sigh and roll his shoulders to your touch, you find yourself staring at his long, pointed ears. You feel a sudden temptation, and reach to grab them.

“What are you- Ohhh~!” Urd groans as he feels your fingers set to work on his ears. He hadn’t even realized how sensitive they were. How could something so simple feel so lovely?

“Does that feel good?” You chuckle. His rich, gentle purring returns tenfold as he leans back into your touch.

“ahhhh~” he sighs, “yes~ very much so~” 

A sweet blush decorates his gorgeous, tan cheeks as he sighs your name. Such a soft sigh; barely more than a whisper, but easily heard in the quiet and secluded bedroom you two were currently sharing. When it’s just the two of you, it’s strikingly easy to get Mr. haughty-rules-lawyer to melt like putty in your hands.

His cold, elegant body is leaning against your figure; his head resting against your chest. As you rub those pretty, pointed ears of his harder and harder, his breathing becomes more erratic. His moans increase in volume and frequency.

“a- ahh~! Oh, (y- y/n)~ aah~!” He pants heavily. “Ohhhhhh~!”

He opens his eyes and looks up at you. Such a wonderful expression! His mouth slightly agape, revealing his sharp, white fangs. His intelligent ruby-red eyes trained on you, slit pupils dilated to their fullest extent. Every inch of his face shows how much he enjoys what you’re doing.

You can’t help but smile at him. “you look exquisite like this, my darling~” 

💡As for his fangs… He is SO confused as to why in the world you’re trying to stick your fingers in his mouth. He’s not gonna bite you, just sit there and look at you like: “what in the world are you doing?” Like all the others, his fangs are so fricking sensitive. He will melt into your arms like mercury at room temperature.

Ky Luc

🔹🤎Will absolutely let you touch his ears. He’s down to try pretty much anything! His curiosity knows no bounds. Once he finds out it feels good, he’ll definitely want you to play with his ears more often. He loves it when you giggle and coo over him while you do it.

🔹🤎 “You want to touch my ears?”  Ky Luc peers at you curiously.  You nod.

“A strange request,” he hums, “but easily granted.”

The fifth progenitor leans his face close to yours; his intelligent crimson eyes have a playful sparkle to them. He’s interested as to why you want to give attention to his ears, of all things. Surely there are more interesting parts of his body to touch, right? Humans are such curious creatures!

You reach up to fondle his sharply pointed ears. They’re cold, like the rest of his body, but oh so soft! You amuse yourself by playing with them a bit more: tugging on them, rubbing their pointed tips, gently running your thumb along their edges. 

You giggle as your vampire darling begins purring loudly, and nuzzling into one of your hands. His eyes close, and he sighs contentedly.

“You know, they say curiosity killed the cat. but…” Ky moans in delight, “Aah~! It seems to only lead to good things for me!”

“The full saying is ‘curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back,’” you explain.

“Mmmm~ but still,” he purrs, “In my case, curiosity never killed the cat in the first place!”

“Don’t worry,” you chuckle, “I’m sure one of these days you’ll pay for sticking your hand into random boxes.”

An idea strikes you, and you decide to entertain it. You gently pull the loudly purring vampire closer, and start nibbling the tip of his ear. You hear a sharp gasp, followed by a long, drawn-out groan. “Ohhhhh~! That feels good~!” He exclaims, “Mmmmmm~ Wonderful~!”

“Would you like me to keep going~?” You murmur into his ear.

“Aah~! Yes please~!” He sighs.

🔹🤎 He’ll let you touch his fangs. He’ll be a little weirded out as to why you want to stick your fingers in his mouth, but his curiosity will get the better of him. It’s a little strange, but at least it feels good!

[itto-l0ver]

“Your so adorable I could eat you alive~”

Aether spends some time around Kujou Encampment, where he ends up in the grasp of a flirty giant detective.

Aether is laid on your back with his eyes closed on a small flat rock, very close to the water at Kujou Encampment. Enjoying the sounds of the water and the wildlife all by himself for hours and taking a few naps a couple of times. Aether ends up becoming somewhat bored and hops off the rock making his way to the buildings in Kujou Encampment, who knows he may find some people to annoy for entertainment.

He walks beside the massive trail so he doesn’t get stepped on by any dumb giant that doesn’t pay attention. He clicks his tongue at this thought, why do giants always think they're so special.. yeah yeah they’re massive and considered “superior” but to me, all they are is giant meatheads that have no regard for life around them. Well.. some of them are fine hmm, like Thoma, Itto, Kazuha.. maybe Ayato but he teases me for being small mmh.. Heizou is much worse than Aya-

He’s snapped out of his thoughts hearing faint thumping behind him slowly getting louder and louder. Oh great a giant.. hopefully, they’re blind, stupid, and don’t notice me. He groans and peaks around his shoulder wondering if the giant is just a guard or someone he would know.

His eyes widen a bit as he sees familiar reddish purple fluffy hair and cheery green eyes on the approaching giant making Aether’s blood run cold. Crap.. Heizou… Archons why did it have to be him?! I have to hide quickly I’d rather not be teased and annoyed by that overly flirty giant.. Aether thinks quickly and dives into a nearby bush with a couple pebbles giving him more cover before Heizou could get close enough to see him.

Aether held his breath as Heizou’s pounding footsteps shook the ground for the small traveler, as Heizou gets closer to Aether he has to cling onto a thin branch to keep himself stable from the earthquake simulation Heizou makes, probably not even knowing the chaos he causes from his careless footsteps. Aether grits his teeth, Would it kill those dumb giants to walk around more carefully!? They aren’t the only beings living in this place..

He squeezes the branch in his hand hearing Heizou’s obnoxious humming making Aether let go of the branch and cover both his ears trying to drown out the sound. As he lets go of the branch to cover his ears Heizou steps down right in front of the bush the little traveler is hidden in causing Aether to lose his balance and stumble back into the thin branches making them scratch around his arms and waist causing him to let out a yelp mixed with surprise and pain.

Aether groans trying to pull himself up but he quickly clasps his hand over his mouth seeing a shadow loom over the bush.

“Hmm?~ who’s there.. that cute yelp sounds so familiar~” Heizou speaks above the bush in his sly tone nearly making Aether’s soul leave his body. No.. noo… shoot! Should I run? I shouldn’t make it easy for him to torment me.. since he probably already knows I’m here… Aether thinks to himself, letting out a panicked noise as Heizou’s knees come crashing down beside the sides of the bush.

“Travelerrrr!~ I know your scared adorable sounds very well~ I know it’s you..” Heizou taunts and Aether jumps hearing Heizou’s hands breach into the leaves of the bush and begins pulling the branches apart. Yep.. run.

Aether dashes out in the opposite direction nearly tripping over on his own feet, wanting to use as much stamina and bits of adrenaline to get as far away from the flirty giant as possible. The last thing he wants is for Heizou to get his pervy hands on his small form, which means absolutely no chance of escape.

“Oh!!~ hehe! Where do you think you're going?~” Heizou yells in a playful tone quickly getting up off his knees and darting to the tiny traveler, laughing, knowing he’ll easily catch up with him.

No! He noticed me running so quickly, how!? I should be small enough to be unnoticeable to a giant for a couple seconds.. Curse this detective’s sharp eyesight. Aether struggles to continue running as the grown shakes and rumbles beneath his feet as Heizou easily gains on him. Ugh.. I should just give up. I’m going to end up in his clutches regardless. Aether thinks to himself defeated and he stops abruptly sliding on the slightly sandy floor from his decrease in speed.

He shuts his eyes tight hearing Heizou also stop slightly jumping to stop himself from sliding too much causing a loud tremor and the ground to shake like crazy, luckily Aether was able to stop himself from falling on his butt.

Aether’s hair stands up on his neck hearing Heizou’s sly giggle echoing from above him, man.. I seriously did want to deal with any giants today… especially ones like him.. Heizou’s legs come crashing down, shaking the ground beneath him as he squeezes his thighs together close beside the sides of the tiny traveler making Aether cough from the dust coming off the huge impact.

“Archons.. do any of you giants know how to be gentle..” Aether mutters under his breath as Heizou’s massive shadow casts over him covering every inch in a soft darkness.

“Hm? Whatcha say traveler?~ your so little, I can barely hear a word!” Heizou says with a giggle looking down at the small insignificant form of the traveler. He tilts his head noticing the traveler not looking at him, “Oiii~ traveler look at me! C’mon pretty please?~” Heizou begs with the slightest bit of sarcasm, why would he have to beg someone as little as the traveler to give him attention?

Aether scoffs and continues looking away from the begging giant not wanting to waste any time on his little jokes, as he ignores Heizou he hears the giant boy shift behind him and his shadow slightly lowers down peaking the traveler's interest, Aether hesitantly turns around and is met with Heizou’s giant lips pulled into a little grin.

The little traveler jumps at the sudden closeness to Heizou’s face and his eyes slowly scale up to look at Heizou’s huge bright green eyes cross-eyed to get a better look at the tiny traveler making Heizou look like an excited cat staring down at his favorite toy. It doesn’t help that he’s in a cat stretch position with hands in paw-like poses, his arms cupped around his face and his knees on the ground, leaving his rear in the air swaying happily. Just like a cat.

Aether quickly looks away trying to hide the bit of blush on his face, why does he have to look cute like this..? I shouldn’t find any annoying giant cute! He quickly shakes his head slightly slapping his hand on his forehead trying to erase the bothersome thoughts in his brain.

“Hm? Are you ok traveler?~” Heizou says still staring down at Aether with a playful smirk, Aether looks down at the floor avoiding Heizou’s giant eyes.

Heizou stares down at Aether for a couple seconds then he cups his hands around Aether’s little body, getting a shriek out of the tiny traveler as his fingers curl around Aether’s tiny waist.

"Awwh~ are you scared of me traveler?" Heizou chuckles bringing Aether close to his lips and whispers against him, "You don't have to be..~" 

Aether’s whole body shivers feeling Heizou’s breath against his skin and he feels his face increasingly getting red. Heizou brings the little traveler to eye level and bites his lip seeing how red Aether is. "Oh?~ traveler you should see your face!" Heizou says with a laugh, teasingly rubbing his finger along Aether’s bare stomach making him squirm.

Heizou lies there in comfortable silence as he observes the little traveler that's very uncomfortable based on how he's constantly looking down and squirming not knowing why Heizou is staring at him for so long.

Heizou breaks the silence with a small hum, "you know traveler..." He says quietly, "you look delicious right now." Those words made Aether’s blood run cold. Delicious!? What does he mean by delicious!!! I'm not food! What if he's not talking about eating me..? Who am I kidding he's definitely talking about that...

Aether is quickly pulled from his thoughts hearing Heizou giggle, freaking him out more than he already was. "Travelerrrr?? Are you still here?~" Heizou teased slowly tracing his finger up Aether’s back and slowly curling it to the side of his neck where Heizou rubs along it getting a small noise out of the traveler.

Aether snaps out of it feeling himself leaning into Heizou’s finger and quickly pulls back. "Y-you-you just s-said you were going to uh.. eat me..!?" Aether blurts out finally looking up at Heizou’s eyes.

Heizou squints his eyes as he smiles widely, "Oh? Did I?~" Heizou says with a sly tone. "You can't blame me. You just look so adorable I could eat you alive..~" He speaks with a lower tone that Aether could feel vibrating through his body.

Aether gets very nervous and shuts his eyes, "y-you won't really eat me... ri-" Aether’s question gets interrupted by something huge, warm, and wet gliding across his little face making his little scream muffled.

As it glides off his face Aether blinks for a couple seconds and looks up to see Heizou licking his lips with a bit of excitement in his green eyes. "Whoah!~ you taste even better than I thought!!" Heizou excitedly says staring down at the frightened traveler.

Aether stammers trying to form a sentence when Heizou suddenly lifts his hand, pinching the back of Aether’s cape, hovering the little traveler over his slowly opening mouth. "H-hey! Wait n-no Heizou! I'm not food.. please!" Aether stutters out with a whimper in his voice as Heizou closes his eyes and lowers Aether down as he kicks his legs trying to escape this predicament.

The little traveler's pleading falls on deaf ears as Heizou continues to lower Aether down into his mouth, his lips slightly stretching onto a smile feeling the traveler's little legs brush against his lips. Heizou lets go of the traveler's cape without warning making Aether fall into his mouth.

Aether screams as he lands onto Heizou’s tongue, slipping a bit, and before he's able to react Heizou closes his mouth trapping the little traveler in darkness. "Heizou!! Please! L-let me out.. Heizou!" Aether begs struggling to stand up on the slippery surface, placing his hands on Heizou’s teeth trying to find somewhere to escape.

Heizou hums feeling the traveler stumble around in his mouth and he stays still for a while not wanting to startle Aether too much. After a while, Heizou moves his tongue making Aether yelp and fall on Heizou’s tongue, and Heizou curls his tongue around the traveler's waist, tasting Aether’s bare skin.

Oh.. he tastes sooo good! Heizou sits up and lays back, rolling his head back enjoying the taste of Aether’s skin. He does feel a bit bad hearing Aether’s uncomfortable noises and begging to be let out. "Traveler.." Aether lets out another small noise feeling the vibrations of Heizou’s voice run through his body. "Calm down don't worry I'm just teasing you~ I'd never eat you only keep you safe inside of my mouth, okay?" Heizou speaks with a gentle voice trying to not jostle Aether around too much.

Is his mouth seriously safe!? It's scary in here but I don't know if I should try to trust him.. Aether goes quiet making Heizou worry a bit. "Okay.." Heizou hears Aether say almost too quietly for him to hear. Heizou smiles and carefully gets up, curling his tongue around Aether’s waist to keep him in place. "I'm going back to my place.." Heizou whispers, "Get some sleep and I'll treat you to some food when you wake up I promise~" Aether hesitantly relaxes on Heizou’s tongue not fully knowing if he's safe or not.

Heizou would never hurt him, maybe obnoxiously tease him a bit but never too much.. Aether calmed down and managed to fall asleep in Heizou’s mouth which he never thought he would ever be in the position to sleep in, awaiting the food the giant promised him.

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