#i’m not particularly happy with this and i think it could have turned WAY better

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Shutter 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Peter Parker

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Peter and Pipsqueak.

Summary: a community class brings together all sorts.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The community centre is a good place to waste time. After a particularly brutal break-up, it was Peter's only distraction. His only solace. He couldn't stay in that apartment he shared with MJ and working as a freelancer couldn't keep him busy if there's nothing going on.

It got even better when she showed up. Most of his students are seniors, looking for the same thing as him, a way to keep busy. She's younger but enthusiastic. While the others come once or twice a month, she's there every week.

That day, she walks in with Betsy. She always finds one of her classmates before she even gets there. She has her camera bag over her shoulder as she adjusts her thick-lensed glasses. They magnetize her irises and make the rest of her look even smaller. That's no great feat as she's tiny all over.

He welcomes each student as he always does, a smile, or a wave, a hello, or how are you. It's a bit awkward to teach people older than even his aunt, but it's more of a club than a class. There's a few new tag alongs; Jeffrey and Edith.

He goes over the focus for the week. There's lot of birds around and he asked them all to get some good snaps before migration season. There's a bit of technical difficulties as he helps them get their prints on the overhead or upload to the cloud from their SD cards. He always has to account for their varied skillset.

His attention strays from the blue jays and the cardinals to her. She sits with her legs twisted together, her eyes set on the large screen. Her glasses reflect the tint. When it comes her turn, she presents a hummingbird she proudly explains was lured to her balcony by her honey feeder. She adds that it's also against the rules but she doesn't care. She giggles and takes her seat again.

When the meeting comes to an end, the elders bluster about the traffic or bingo. It's only two in the afternoon but some are even on the way to dinner. As he waits for them to filter out, he shuts down his laptop.

"Um, excuse me, Mr. Parker," the warbly voice startles him. She stands across from him sheepishly. He almost laughs. No one calls him mister. "Um, I was hoping you could help me but if you're busy."

He's almost breathless. He's talked to her before. He talks to everyone but she's shier around the men in the class, even him.

"No, I don't have anywhere to be. What's going on?" He forces out, wondering if he sounds as nervous as he feels.

"Erm, okay," she moves her camera bag to the front of her. "I found this old camera at the thrift shop but um, I don't want to break it. I wanted to start using it..."

She pulls out the camera with the strap attached. He tilts his head as he examines it. He reaches for the compact device.

"May I?" He asks.

"Please," she hands it over. "I don't know if it's any good. It was ten bucks but... if it doesn't work I thought it would be a good ornament."

"Holy," he turns it over, "it's a Leica. That's... you know these go for a good penny on eBay. I restored a few myself..."

"Really?" She leans in and he almost loses feeling in his fingers. She's so close but doesn't seem to realise. Being so small, she probably doesn't think about it.

"Oh, sure," he plays with the shutter button. "I could have a look over and see if it's still in good condition. Do you mind if... I take it home?"

"Yeah, that would be--" she reaches for her bag again and finds her small blue wallet inside. "I could pay you--"

"What? No," he waves her off. "It's fun to me."

"Right, um..."

"I could have it done in like a day or two," he can barely hear himself over the thumping of his heart. Is he really going to ask? "Maybe we could meet up?"

"Oh, sure. I could... I could do that," she widens her eyes and they look even bigger.

"Okay... uh, maybe we could exchange numbers?"

"That sounds good," she bounces on her soles. "Let me just..." she takes out her phone in its butterfly case, "what's yours? I'll send you a message."

He recites the numbers, his tongue sticking as he focus on getting every digit right. She smiles and taps the screen triumphantly.

"There, uh, okay, you hold onto that," she sticks up a spindly finger, "and I will wait patiently for your phone call!"

"Sure, cool, yeah," he stammers, fighting his own excitement. He takes out his phone. "I'll save your number now."

"Have a good one, Mr. Parker," she gives a little hop. "I gotta go get my train."

'Guess who just got her number!'

She flits out right as he says "you two" missing the "sweetheart" at the end. He stares at the door then slowly peeks down at his phone. He adds her to his contacts then flips over to the discord chat. He smirks as he keys in his message.

A rolling eye emoji comes from Bucky and Thor sends a celebrating one. Curtis gives a thumb up and several others see the message.

'Did you get it or steal it?' Jake snarks.

Peter sneers and blacks the screen. He's not arguing with those idiots again. They're just jealous.

[agnes-draws]

hello, it’s been a while

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[tusks-and-claws]

Cold Love/Hot Blood

Miguel O’Hara x female reader

Summary: “Between teeth on a broken jaw/following a bloodtrail, frothing at the maw”

Miguel is struck with something that he’s never experienced before

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, dubcon by way of pheromones, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, size kink, feral Miguel, biting, marking, blood drinking, paralytic venom

Wordcount: 3k

Ao3 link here

-

You opened your eyes, blinking at the soft light from the bleary haze. Wincing, you raised your hand to your head. It didn't necessarily hurt, but it definitely felt wrong. What had happened? You were on a mission. That's right. And it had been going so well, until… until the anomaly villain threw something at you and Miguel. What was it? It had such an awful smell to it. And, where was Miguel?

You traversed the rubble of the abandoned building you were in. You couldn't see him. You shouted out for him.

"Here, I'm here," you heard him from the distance. Following his voice, you found him under some pieces of sheetrock from a collapsed wall. He was pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask.

"Geez, Miguel, are you alright?"

"Been better." His voice sounded strained. "Got a transmission from Jess that she's got hands on the anomaly. We'll meet her back at HQ. You go on ahead of me."

"What? No, we have to-" you started grabbing at the rubble to pull it off of him. He caught your arm before you could keep lifting.

"Please," he said, trying to meet your eyes from behind his mask. "Just go."

"What the hell is going on, Miguel? You're not… you're not acting right. We have to get you out of here."

He brought his hands up, holding his head in frustration. "Please, just do it. Don't make me beg."

"LYLA, please check him," you said, the avatar popping up and saluting you.

"No, don't-!" He tried to catch her in the air but she evaded him.

"His heart rate is really elevated but he seems okay otherwise. I think he's being dramatic. I don't detect any major injuries," she reported. You thanked her and she disappeared.

You crouched down to where he was. "What's going on, Miguel?" Your tone was serious.

He tried to hold your gaze for a moment until he swore and looked away. "That bomb that the anomaly threw… it affected me in a way that it clearly didn't affect anyone else, alright? Are you happy now?"

You furrowed your brow. "I don't understand."

He sighed, his breath shaking ever so slightly. "Itwasapheromonebomb." He said it so quickly and quietly.

"...What?"

"It was a pheromone bomb. Just leave me here so I can wait it out. This is so shocking humiliating- I," he sighed again. "Don't make me explain any further."

You blushed, not sure what to say. But you couldn't leave him like that, half-buried and vulnerable. "Can I at least help you up…? I promise I won't make fun of you. I just can't leave you defenseless like this."

He seethed for a moment, considering your offer. "...Fine. Grab this stupid sheetrock."

You did so, lifting it off of him with some effort. He did his best to stand up quickly. Despite his best, though, you could see the source of his embarrassment. He had a rock hard erection, and a particularly desperate one, by the looks of it. It laid upward, reaching towards his abdomen and pushing up against the tight fabric of his suit, straining. The size of him was nothing short of impressive.

You turned your gaze pointedly towards the ground as he moved away from the pile of rubble. Don't react don't react don't react. Could you pretend like you didn't notice? Even though not noticing was impossible, even from a single glance? You swallowed a lump in your throat, your head swimming with unprofessional thoughts.

Miguel turned from you, crouching down, hissing out a slow breath. "Fuck, it's getting worse," he whispered to himself, his body starting to tremble.

You took a step closer, reaching a hand out to his shoulder.

"Your proximity isn't… isn't helping." He admitted without turning around.

You stopped, silently moving your hand away from him. Touching him would surely make things harder.

"Miguel, I don't think waiting it out is an option for you. You just said it was getting worse."

He swore under his breath to himself. "I didn't mean for you to hear that. This is- shock it- this is completely foreign to me. Never been hit by anything like this before, it's s-so intense."

You winced at that, you'd never heard his voice so pained. But, what was the other option? You shivered just to think about it, your body reacting in ways that surprised you. How could you possibly propose helping him without making him think less of you? Would he even want help from you? Across from you, he was in turmoil, on his hands and knees trying desperately to control his breathing.

“Miguel… how can I help you?” It was a foolish question, a loaded question.

“You know the answer,” he replied from over his shoulder, his tone cold. He cried out again. “I- I can’t- can’t do that to you.”

“What if I’m offering?” You asked, a little too quickly, pushing down your fear and embarrassment for even thinking such things.

He turned further to meet your eyes, though you still couldn’t see his from behind the mask. You didn’t even need to see his eyes, his body language was communicating perfectly on their behalf. His muscles were pent up and quivering. Every breath rocked his massive shoulders. “Why?”

You didn’t think he’d ask that question. You searched your brain for an answer. “Because it isn’t your fault. And I respect you enough that this won’t change my mind.”

His thoughts seemed to be diverting to his baser instincts, his voice becoming a growl. “Need you… to be sure. Don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“I’m sure,” you said.

In no time at all, he pounced, bringing you to the ground. He was on top of you, his taloned fingers caging in your wrists against the cracked concrete of the floor, your arms above your head. You landed with your legs apart and with him between them, his hips desperately close to yours. Your eyes widened at his feral energy, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. He brought his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling. His exhale was shaky. “You smell so good… always smelled so good.”

Your body grew hot upon hearing that. Always? Had he thought about you in that way before? You smiled to yourself as he nuzzled the nose of his masked face into your neck, his hot breath coming through and ghosting over your skin. You could feel his huge frame shaking around you. He brought his hips down to your pelvis, seemingly being as cautious as possible as he began to grind his hardened length against you. His breath quickened at the contact, and he met you again with fervor, stimulating himself on you. His cock was unbelievably hard and hot, the temperature of him coming through both of your suits to meet your skin and overwhelm you. The feeling of him against you was sending shivers down your spine, the pleasant pressure made even sweeter by the promise of more to come. He positioned himself on top of you in such a way that each rhythmic, grinding rock found your clit and teased it with clothed contact.

You moaned lightly, the sound of it causing him to growl into your neck. You lifted your hips up, meeting him with the same tempo so he could grind into you more thoroughly, your bodies now writhing in tandem. His heavy breathing became panting. "Need to… need to touch you." He picked up his head and released your wrists, one hand steadying himself on the concrete, the other reaching down eagerly.

You got the memo, quickly slipping the pants of your suit down and throwing them aside so he wouldn't rip them off for you. You had at least enough hindsight to know you couldn't go back to HQ looking so disheveled. He dismissed the gloves of his suit and retracted his talons as his fingers found you immediately, honing in on the wet heat of your sex. Two plunged inside as he loomed above you, his muscles shaking again as he wet his fingers with your arousal. You shook right alongside him, your reaction bodily, as your back arched and your legs closed instinctively to hold his hand in place and not let him go. His fingers hooked inside of you, already relentless.

"Soaked," he whispered, almost to himself. The word resonated with a deep, animalistic hunger. Without removing his fingers from your warmth, he sat back on his knees and used his free hand to pry your legs open. "Need to see," he said. He watched the length of his fingers disappear over and over. The large hand that kept your legs wide was squeezing the soft flesh of your inner thigh, and he seemed fixated on the way it was yielding to his rough touches. Nearly everyone was small compared to Miguel, but you… you were different. He had his hands on you, inside of you, the comparison was tangible. You were small, soft, and his. His mind swam with how he would take you, how he would sheath himself inside of you until he bottomed out, how he would desperately fill you with his hot cum and hold your hips up to keep any precious drops from leaking out. It took everything in him to not reach down and start rubbing his impatient cock through his suit, but his fevered brain convinced him to keep his free hand on your leg so he could watch you fall apart from his fingers alone.

He was delirious as your walls started to spasm around his fingers, white hot pleasure pooling in your core, threatening to overflow as he kept up his efforts. The constriction of your muscles bolstered him, and he began to go faster and harder, starting to overstimulate you. You threw your head back, hands wildly trying to grasp at something on the concrete floor but coming up short. He removed his hand from your throbbing sex to start teasing your clit with abandon, and you moaned as your body lifted up off the floor.

"H-holy shit, Miguel," you gasped out. "It's- it's so much."

His hand moved so fast against your swollen clit that you could hardly think. The feeling was electric, and your orgasm was dangerously close. Your legs started to shake and tried to close around him again, but he kept them forced open as he intently watched, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. You came and it utterly racked you, your body shuddering as you cried out, hot liquid spewing from you and drenching Miguel's hand and forearm. You squirted on him, because of him. You thought you should be embarrassed, but he gave you no opportunity.

As your head just started to clear, he recalled his mask into the neck of his suit. You quietly gasped at unexpectedly seeing his face. So strong, angular, and handsome. His red eyes looked wild, his mouth was open, his fangs fully extended. He studied his hand, turning it over so the mess you made could catch the light. As it started to dry down on him, he brought the two fingers that had been inside of you up to his mouth, and he licked them both clean. You gaped at him, almost fully unable to process what was happening.

When he was finished, he turned his gaze from his fingers and back onto you, as you sat up on your elbows to watch him. You saw that his cock was still as hard as ever, still pushing to break free. As if reading your mind, he recalled that part of his suit too as he grabbed your legs and yanked you toward him. He rested his cock over your abdomen, once again reveling in just how much bigger than you he was. The hot weight of his manhood on your skin set you ablaze once more and you eagerly awaited him. He thrusted but without penetrating you, sliding himself over you and wetting his cock on your cum. His exhales quaked with anticipation until he could wait no longer. Even on his knees, he towered over you, and so he needed to tilt your hips up further so your entrance could meet the head of his leaking cock. He shifted his grip to your waist, holding firm as you steadied yourself on your elbows and looked to him with bated breath.

He slowly pushed his hips into you, his cock sinking deep into your pussy. The steady penetration had you reeling. You needed to feel him, all of him. Every inch, all at once. It felt like it took ages for him to finally reach the hilt, but when he did, he waited inside of you for a brief, merciful moment. You basked in the feeling of being so full, so complete. He began to pull himself out of you, leaving you cold and empty for a split second until he slammed his entire length back into you, repeating and repeating at an unwavering pace.

Each powerful thrust reached so deep inside of you that it was nearly painful. Immediately, the head of his cock found your cervix and was hitting it with each hard pump that Miguel delivered. Your eyelids grew heavy as your eyes began to roll back towards your skull. His onslaught was so thorough, every smack of his hips against your pelvis reverberating through every inch of your body. The overstimulation of when he fingerfucked you had carried over, and you were already close to losing control all over again. He felt it too, as he growled in response to your pulsating walls.

"This cunt…." He snarled through his fangs. "This cunt is mine."

"Yours," you moaned, meeting his words a little too quickly.

"Going to mark you… so everyone knows."

"Mark me, Miguel." You agreed, not quite realizing what he meant. He started to lay you down onto the ground without removing himself from you, continuing to fuck you in missionary as he brought his face down to the crook of your neck. Your pulse quickened with excitement. He opened his mouth, his breath making your skin somehow even warmer. You wished that you could've seen the flash of his fangs before what came next.

He bit down on you, hard, and you could feel the course of his venom like molten lava through your veins. When the searing heat reached its crest, a soothing wash of warmth followed in its wake, leaving your muscles loosened and relaxed. Blood started to drip down your shoulder, the wet trickle quickly cooling as it made contact with the atmosphere. Miguel stayed latched to you as his tongue met your skin, lapping at the red stream, determined to consume it all.

You submitted to him fully, allowing him to position you how he saw fit so he could fulfill his feral need. His strong hands snaked around your torso to your back, lifting you up with him as he rocked back onto his knees. He helped you to swing your legs around his slim waist and to drape your arms over his huge shoulders. You let your face settle against his neck, the clean musky smell of him overwhelming your senses. His hands found your hips and he effortlessly lifted you up and down on his cock, fucking himself with your pussy like you weighed nothing at all. You moaned into him as you clenched around his cock, your limp body succumbing to the overpowering feeling of him. You started to shudder as your orgasm claimed you with a white-knuckled grip. You whined into Miguel's neck as it hit you with shock after shock, your vision going spotty while your cunt tightened around him.  

He couldn't hold it any longer, and his cock jerked inside of you as he came. You were still getting hit with aftershocks of your own climax, your muscles bearing down to milk every drop of cum that he filled you with. He held you closer and he thrusted himself as far into you as he possibly could, instinctively trying to make sure as little seed would have the chance to leak out of you as possible.

Your muscle control started to slowly come back to you as you and Miguel were chest-to-chest, both of you sweating and heaving. You weakly raised your arms so your hands could tangle with the hair at the nape of his neck. You lingered there for a bit, his strong arms holding you in the place as you played with soft locks of chocolate hair. You finally leaned back to see clarity slowly returning to Miguel's expression, and he looked utterly mortified. He held your gaze as he turned red, removing one hand from your body so he could cover his face.

"Oh my God," he whispered. "What the shock came over me?"

You were struck with sudden fear. "Do you… not remember?" The fact that he was still buried inside you should've been a dead giveaway.

"No, I do," he said, nervously. "I remember getting hit with that stupid bomb, and you helping me, then me wanting to split you in half."

You couldn't help but giggle at that.

"I tried to make sure I wasn't too rough with you. I was still in there, the whole time," he said, taking his hand away from his face to smooth your hair. He stopped when he reached your neck, seeing the bite marks he left. "Guess I didn't do all that well, did I?"

"It's fine. I can take it."

"Clearly," he said, raising his eyebrows, mildly impressed. "Thank you. I… don't know what I would have gone through if you hadn't been so… generous. But… for God’s sake, let’s not go around telling people what happened. We have reputations.”

You agreed, the secret safe between the two of you, the puncture wounds on your neck a silent souvenir.

[trustmypoison]

SVT doing your makeup

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘i love all your svt reactions!! could i request a fun one where svt gets asked to put makeup on their partner? who do you think would take it seriously and do extremely well? who wouldnt even know what half of the items are? i think the members would also find it fun to do hahahah’

Cannot help but do badly - Seungcheol, Jun, Woozi, Vernon

He really does his best when you ask, but he would prefer not to wear much for himself, so he’s not particularly skilled. You can tell that he’s not happy with anything that he does because he’s grimacing, particularly when he gets to the eye makeup, where the finer details matter. But he’d never turn down the opportunity to do something with you, even if he’s totally deflated when he’s done. He’ll sigh deeply and apologize while handing you the mirror. It’s… not great. But it’s cute that he tried. He can’t wait to help you clean it off, though, ready with the makeup remover and face wash. 

Purposefully makes you look like a clown - Jeonghan, DK, Chan

You feel like things are going well until he spends way too much time on the blush. Then you get a glimpse of the colors that he uses on your eyes, and you kind of wonder why you even have them because they don’t compliment you in the least. He’ll slyly grin when he announces that he’s done, presenting you with a mirror. Will absolutely snap a picture before you can stop him, giving you a big smooch on your lips that are painted in a color that does not work for you. When you glare and tell him you regret asking for this, he’ll relent, helping you clean it all off. I’m so sorry; he’ll never delete that picture. He has backups of it. 

Really tries and does decently - Hoshi, Wonwoo, Seungkwan

The epitome of focus. Picture them being inches from your face for the little details, tongue poking out in concentration. Then, he’ll pull back to look at his work and go back to perfect it. He gets the concept of all of the products and figures out how to use them relatively quickly. Does a little bit at a time to not overdo it. He agreed to this because he likes being close to you and spending time with you. But if you look pleasantly surprised by how great he did, he’ll scoff and say that he can’t believe you doubted him. 

Better at it than you could ever be - Joshua, Mingyu, Minghao

Are you kidding? You don’t do your own makeup half the time, anyway. If you grumble about doing it when you guys are getting ready to go out, he’ll sit you on the counter and do it for you from start to finish. If your eye makeup isn’t blending just right or your eyeliner is uneven, he simply takes the brush or the pen from you to help you with it. He does it with such a quick and careful precision that puts your own skills to shame. And throughout the day, if he notices something is smudged, he’ll delicately fix it for you. (As someone who loves the look of makeup but hates putting it on, this would be a dream.)

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt6) | Leah Williamson

First rounds of Wimbledon note: Well,, I tried to wrap all on this part but it was taking too long to fit everything in one go, so next part is coming. The opponents' names are made up by the way warnings: fluff and slow burn, a bit suggestive(?) nothing really pt1 my masterlist

Music used to relax you, there was nothing better than blasting your ears with tunes at full volume while taking a little nap during a massage session. But now, that seemed impossible with Jane, your physiotherapist, working on your legs, pressing hard on your most tense spots.

“Fuck, Jane, are you sure you're a physical therapist? It feels like you're wrecking my legs,” you complained, wincing as you clenched your fists. You were lying on your stomach, your face sunk into the hole of the massage table. 

Jane just smiled, a mixture of amusement and professionalism in her expression. She would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy seeing you like this after all the frustration you caused by not listening to her advice about overdoing your workouts.

“Stop whining, this is good for your muscles,” she said softly, still working on your legs.

“It’s not whining, it’s just-” you started to say, but another particularly firm squeeze shut you up, and you let out a whimper. “Jane!”

Jane leaned over a bit and took off your headphones. “If you’d listened to me, we wouldn’t be in this mess. You told me you don’t want to have any problems with injuries, and for that, your body needs to relax and recover from all the overactivity you’ve had.”

You knew she was right. You sighed heavily, but you wouldn’t admit it. Jane knew that all too well. “Can you at least be a little gentler?”

“If I were any gentler, it wouldn’t be effective,” she said, shaking her head. “Besides, you mentioned you want to be 100% for your game tomorrow. My guess is you’re trying to impress someone, but since I’m not a specialist, I’ll keep that to myself,” she added with a cheeky grin.

You managed a small smile despite the pain and her teasing. “Yeah, okay, I’ll shut up. But seriously, how much longer?”

Jane glanced at the clock on the wall, but when she saw your coach walk in, she didn’t answer.

“Hmhm,” Lucas cleared his throat, standing by the table. From where you were lying, you could only see his legs. “Can you explain what’s going on here?”

Jane’s hands stopped immediately as she turned her attention to Lucas.

“What’s going on now?” you asked, reluctantly sitting up on the table and facing your coach, who was holding a bouquet of flowers. “Since when does Wimbledon send flowers to players?” you chuckled, it was a pretty classy move, just right for an English tournament.

“It’s not from Wimbledon,” Lucas said, pulling out a small pink envelope from the flowers. “I haven’t read it,” he assured you, handing both the envelope and the flowers over. 

Lucas didn’t look happy, but surprisingly he didn’t seem mad either. His face was more a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

“I think I have a guess about who sent them,” he said, glancing over at Jane.

“Was it you? Aww, how sweet! They say you get nicer with age,” you teased the woman, giving her a playful nudge.

“It wasn’t me,” Jane said, playfully pinching your cheek with a grin.

“Ouch! Don’t do that,” you said, rubbing your cheek and then looking at the flowers. They were perfect, not too flashy, not too small. With a smile you didn’t even notice you had, you figured out who must’ve sent them. It was pretty obvious.

You set the flowers aside on the table and opened the envelope, with your coach and Jane watching intently. As you read the note, your heart skipped a beat.

[Best of luck for tomorrow, darling. I can’t be there, but I’ll be rooting for you no matter what. Kisses, L.W.]

“Is she blushing?” you heard Lucas mutter to Jane.

“Tell me, have you ever seen her this calm? She almost looks like an angel,” Jane said, shaking her head with a grin.

“I’m hearing you loud and clear,” you said, trying to keep your cool, even though you could feel your cheeks warming up.

“So, who’s the flowers from?” Lucas asked again, crossing his arms and giving you a serious look.

“The card doesn’t say,” you said, trying to slip the card back into the envelope.

“But you know who it is,” Jane said, her tone more certain.

“Nope.”

“Ah, well. We know who it is,” Lucas said with a smirk.

You stared at them, unsure of what to say.

“You’re just trying to get me to spill the name. I’m not telling you,” you said firmly.

“Oh, we know,” Jane insisted, her grin widening.

“Alright, then tell me who it is,” you said defiantly, crossing your arms and copying Lucas’s posture.

“Leah Williamson,” they answered at the same time. Lucas was dead serious, while Jane had a cheeky smirk.

You choked on your own saliva, realizing you’d just heard the name of the person who’d sent the flowers.

“W-what are you talking about? Have you both lost it?” you stammered, trying to cover up but failing miserably.

“We’ve seen her leaving your hotel a few times these past weeks,” Lucas said, staring at you with that intense, questioning look.

“Just a coincidence,” you said, turning your back on them, cursing yourself (and Leah for not being more discreet). “She could be friends with another player. The hotel’s packed.”

Jane giggled, and Lucas sighed, crossing his arms with a resigned look. “Yeah, right. And I’m the king of England,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I get what’s going on here. Just make sure you don’t mess things up. Focus on tennis during the matches. You can do all your talking and showing off with Williamson after you win your match. Got it?”

“Got it”

Wimbledon, day 2. Round of 128. Court 2.

The first match was usually the easiest since your opponent was often weaker, but tennis isn’t always about rankings and stats. Knowing that anything could happen made you a bit nervous. Even though those nerves hadn’t shown on the court so far, with a score of 1-0 and a pretty straightforward 6-3 win in the first set. But you still felt the pressure.

Your opponent’s first serve wasn’t the strongest, but you stayed alert. As the ball bounced on the grass, you got ready to return it. You adjusted your visor to block the sun, reminding yourself how crucial it was to stay focused between points.

When you saw your opponent toss the ball for her serve, you sprang into action, returning it with force. Unfortunately, you hit it a bit too hard, and it landed just inches outside the line.

The next serve was a bit stronger, and although you didn’t handle it perfectly with your racket, you still managed to get the ball over the net. Your opponent went for a volley but missed, giving you another point.

You glanced over at your team and saw Lucas grinning and giving you two thumbs up. You took a deep breath, feeling pretty relaxed knowing you had the match under control. You were almost there and could almost taste moving on to the next round.

The rest of the points were pretty smooth, though your opponent switched things up towards the end. She figured out that when she hit a low, fast ball, you had to work harder to return it.

On the last point to win the match, she did exactly what she’d been doing for most of the last set. When you saw that low ball coming, you rushed forward without thinking, got to it just in time, and smashed it across the court in the opposite direction your opponent was running.

And just like that, you’d made it through the first round.

Relief washed over you. You grabbed the gold chain around your neck, giving it a little tug as you walked over to your opponent. With a subtle smile, you shook her hand. She gave you a firm grip and a tired smile back. There weren’t many words exchanged, neither with her nor with the umpire.

As you waved to a few people in the stands, you couldn’t help but wonder if Leah had been watching. You really hoped she had.

“Great game, fast and on point. Nicely done,” Lucas said when you met after, giving you a friendly pat on the back.

“I made a bunch of unforced errors though. We need to work on that,” you said, handing him your racket bag.

“We’ll sort it out after the press conference,” he replied.

Leah was pretty nervous. She had no idea how you’d react to the surprise. After a match, she figured you’d be wiped out, and here she was, standing in your hotel room with dinner ready on the table. She’d made sure to keep it alcohol free, just as she promised Lucas early.

She still couldn’t figure out how she ended up with messages from your coach in her DMs. You hadn’t said much since yesterday, just sent her a selfie with the flowers she gave you.

Then she heard footsteps and voices outside the room. The door opened, and there you were, looking exhausted. You shut the door behind you with a bit of a struggle.

“Surprise,” Leah said softly, trying not to startle you.

You couldn’t help but jump when you saw her standing there. All that tiredness from the match seemed to disappear in an instant. You rushed toward Leah, and luckily, she reacted quickly, opening her arms just in time to catch you. As you practically threw yourself at her, she wrapped her arms around you, keeping you both from crashing to the floor.

“Leah! How the heck did you get in?” you asked, still stunned.

Leah didn’t answer right away. Instead, she looked at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, clearly taken aback by how close you were. Then, without missing a beat, she leaned in and kissed you. You closed your eyes, melting into the kiss as your lips met hers.

“Congratulations,” she whispered against your lips before kissing you again, this time with more intensity. She wrapped her arms around you, lifting you slightly so you could wrap your legs around her, holding you close in the air. “You were incredible today,” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “Loved the new white outfit”

“Stop trying to flatter me while you’re kissing me,” you said, scrunching your nose with a playful grin.

“Why?” Leah asked, tightening her grip on your waist just a bit more.

“Because it turns me on, and I’ve got this no-sex-on-tournaments rule,” you explained, trying not to roll your eyes at Leah’s mischievous grin.

“You know that sex doesn’t actually mess with your performance, right?”

“It’s not about that,” you said, holding up your gold chain for emphasis. “It’s just bad luck for me, and I’m super into my rituals and all that.”

“Sounds kinda boring,” Leah said with a laugh, clearly enjoying teasing you. Then she set you down and, before you could say anything else, she cupped your face in her hands. She made you stand on your tiptoes and kissed you again, this time gently and tenderly. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said, almost against your will, as you gently pushed Leah away. “Now, without sounding like a stalker, how did you get into my room?”

“Well, it’s pretty much common knowledge that your coach knows about us now,” Leah said, giving you a knowing look. You nodded in agreement. “Well, he messaged me to thank me. He says your backhand’s gotten way better since we started talking”  she added with a smirk, clearly pleased with herself.

“That’s got nothing to do with you,” you shot back, trying to play it cool.

“Anyway,” Leah said, brushing off your comment, “he told me I’ve got his blessing to be around you, especially now.” She playfully tugged at the laces of your joggers, pulling you so close you could feel her warmth and her breath on your skin. “He thinks I bring you luck.”

“It doesn’t,” you said, feeling your heart race and your stomach flutter from her closeness.

“Well, you won Roland Garros with me in the stands,” she murmured with a soft smile.

“I won because your mom was there,” you replied, trying to stay serious.

“Ugh, don’t mention my mum when we’re this close,” Leah said with a glare, giving you a playful shove. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way she tried to look frustrated while you both stood so close.

You’d never had company like this during a tournament before. Sure, your parents would show up for the big matches, but it wasn’t quite the same as seeing other players with their partners by their side throughout the whole tournament. You couldn’t help but feel a little envious.

“And besides,” Leah said, taking your hand and guiding you toward the table where dinner was set up. “I’m here to make sure you eat something decent, not just shove sandwiches down your throat.” She gestured at the table with a playful sigh. “It’s something light and flat- I didn’t pick the menu,” she said, wrinkling her nose at a plate full of vegetables.

Even though it was just a simple thing, having Leah here made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. It was something new and comforting that you didn’t realize you’d been missing.

“But it has the right amount of protein-” Leah started again, but you gently pulled her arm, making her turn to face you. Before she could say more, you leaned in and kissed her, your lips brushing against hers with a smile. She looked surprised for a second before smiling into it.

“I adore you,” you murmured against her lips, feeling the warmth of her presence make everything feel right.

Wimbledon, day 4. Round of 64. Court 3.

Having Leah in the stands was a whole new level of intensity. Sure, she’d been there before, but this was the first time you were fully aware she was just a few feet away, watching your every move. She was standing next to Jane, who was chatting away as you walked onto the court. You didn’t want to draw too much attention (though it was already a bit odd that the captain of the Lionesses was sitting with your team), so you just gave a casual nod and a small tilt of your visor to acknowledge her.

“Who’s the blonde?” your opponent, Feya, asked from her chair. You got along with her well enough, so it was more curiosity than anything else.

You glanced over at Leah as you opened your first bottle of water. She was wearing sunglasses, but her blonde hair was still pretty noticeable. However, in a tennis crowd, people would probably recognize a top 50 player faster than a female football star, so Leah wasn’t really standing out.

“Just part of my team,” you said, trying to keep it cool as you headed to the center of the court to warm up.

“She’s really locked in,” Leah said, nodding as the first set ended 4-6 in your favor. She’d been worried that having her here might throw you off, but it looked like you were totally on top of your game.

“You know,” Jane chimed in, still keeping her eyes on you as you rested with a towel over your face. “But Y/n can be quite... full of herself,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “She loves the spotlight and showing off. And trust me, having you here today is like adding fuel to her fire. She’ll be pushing herself even harder, wanting to impress you. When it’s over, she’ll probably act like it was easy, but she’s doing all this to catch your eye.”

“I don’t think that-”

“It’s not a bad thing. ” Jane said with a chuckle. “We’ve seen it before, I mean, trying to impress her parents. That’s why her coach isn’t bothered by you being here.”

Leah sighed, glancing over at you. You were hunched over, focused on a spot on the grass, completely in the zone.

“If she keeps this up for the rest of the match, she’ll have it in the bag. Let’s just hope it stays that way,” Jane said softly, her eyes full of admiration and concern as she looked at you.

The first few games of the second set had been going great. You were already 1-2 up, having just broken your opponent’s serve. Now it was your turn to serve, and you were locked in. You adjusted your grip on the racket, focused on your routine, bouncing the ball, eyeing the service box, and preparing to unleash a powerful first serve.

Just as you were about to toss the ball, the umpire’s voice cut through your focus. You glanced around and saw people talking and walking away, and the ball boys darting across the court. You muttered a curse under your breath, feeling a wave of frustration. Looking up, you saw a massive black cloud rolling in.

“Fuck me” you muttered, frustration thick in your voice. You looked up at the sky again, knowing what was coming. 

The umpire’s voice came through, barely audible over the commotion, “We’ll see if we can resume play in an hour.”

The din of the crowd grew louder as the reality of the rain set in. You tried to keep your frustration in check, knowing that any outburst could earn you a warning. You bit your lip, took a deep breath, and tried to calm your racing thoughts.

You wanted to scream, but you knew better than to lose it in front of everyone. You bit your lip and took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. You were playing some of your best tennis, every shot was spot on, and now rain was messing it all up. It was definitely going to give your opponent a breather, and you could practically see her smiling with relief on the other side of the court. 

Grumbling, you grabbed your stuff and headed back inside, your eyes almost blank. You didn't want anything to distract you. You put on your headphones, letting the music fill your mind and block out the chaos around you. You walked to the bathroom and locked yourself in. The echo of your footsteps bounced around the empty hallway, and every second of waiting felt like a hit to your concentration.

Inside the bathroom, you leaned against the wall, closing your eyes and trying to keep your focus. You replayed every point won in your head, every strategy planned.  Hopefully, your opponent was the one freaking out during this break. But Feya had way more experience and probably knew exactly how to handle this situation. You, on the other hand, had only a couple of rain delayed matches under your belt and had lost all of them after the restart. The statistics weren’t in your favor.

Pacing back and forth, you tried not to get cold. Your heart was still racing from the match, and you didn’t want to lose that. This was only the second round of Wimbledon, and going home this early was not an option, especially not with Leah watching you so closely.

You took a deep breath, still leaned against the cold wall, and grabbed your phone. Without hesitation, you dialed Leah's number. It didn't ring for more than three seconds before you heard her voice.

"Hey..."

"Leah," you said, but then froze. Damn, you had to stay focused, you were still halfway through the game.

"I wanted to call you, but your coach said it wouldn't be a good idea."

You put the phone down for a moment and adjusted your headphones. Your breathing started to hitch. You brought your forearm to your face and covered your eyes.

"Why? Did he say it would be a bad idea because I might be upset?" you said, letting out a nervous laugh.

"He said exactly that."

"Well, he was right, damn old man," you said, laughing despite the lump forming in your throat. "Would it offend you if I said how much I hate England right now?"

Leah's laughter calmed you a bit. It seemed as if she was oblivious to the whole situation that had you on the verge of collapse. That helped. Maybe everything wasn't as bad as your head was making it out to be.

"It's not the first time I've heard that," Leah said. "But England has good things to offer too. You just have to give it time."

"I would if it wasn't for this damn rain," you mumbled. "I was sure I could win 1-6. I just wanted to finish the match, and now I don't even know if it will be over."

"Your coach says the weather isn't too bad. Just hang in there..."

"Leah, I think I'm gonna lose this round," you said, rubbing your face with both hands, frustration bubbling up. "I don't wanna go home." You didn’t want to cry, but the tears were already starting to fall.

"You're not going home," Leah said firmly. "Remember last year? You made it to the semifinals with no problem."

"Yeah, but... I didn't have any rain delays last year," you sighed. "I got lucky last year. That's what I kept telling myself throughout the tournament. But this time feels different... maybe it's a sign that things aren't going my way this time."

"No," Leah cut in, her tone sharp. "It's not different. You're more experienced now, you've just won a Grand Slam, and you've worked on your game and your mindset. Don't let a cloud ruin all that."

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, letting Leah's words sink in. You needed that reminder, that spark of trust, to know she believed in you.

"Thanks, Leah," you whispered, feeling the lump in your throat start to dissolve. "I'm going to try."

"That's all you can do. Now, breathe, relax. You're in control."

"Promise me that if I lose... you won't leave," you asked in a soft, vulnerable whisper.

Leah was silent for a few seconds before she spoke again. "You won't lose. You'll win the next points, get through this round, and then we'll go rest."

"That's not what I asked," you said, almost pleading.

You heard Leah sigh. "I promise, I won't leave, no matter what."

Leah kept talking after that, slowly helping you keep it together, distracting you from the chaos around and within you. Her voice was a steady anchor, grounding you in the moment, making you feel like everything might just be okay.

An hour later, the game finally resumed. As soon as you stepped onto the court, it was clear you weren’t the same player from the first set. Your arms felt heavy, and your legs were shaky. The sky still looked threatening, and the air felt different from a few hours ago. You glanced at Feya, who seemed to be loving this new scenario, walking energetically to her spot while you felt like you were moving through mud.

Passing by your team's section, you couldn't even lift your head so you just shook it. You needed to pull yourself together. Unzipping your top a bit, you grabbed the chain around your neck. This was where you were supposed to be, and you had to push through. You wouldn't let Leah see you as a loser.

But thinking about it was easier than doing it.

Your serve was awful, like you had butter on your hands making the racket slip. You couldn't get any balls inside the lines. With each missed serve, frustration built up inside you, making it harder to rally and cheer yourself up.

As the match dragged on, you were piling up unforced errors, practically handing points to your opponent with every shot. You needed to pull yourself together before Feya completely wrecked your game.

"Focus Y/n," you muttered, adjusting your visor, sweat dripping from your forehead more from nerves than from running around. You took a deep breath, trying to channel all your frustration into your wrist as you prepared to hit the ball. Unfortunately, your swing lacked precision, and the ball ended up hitting the net.

The game was now at 40-15 to Feya. One more mistake and she would go up 4-2. You hadn't won a single game since the rain delay. Right now, you just needed to get the ball over the net, just that one simple task first. Trying to stay calm, you managed a clean serve. Luckily, Feya returned it weakly, and you seized the opportunity, smashing the ball with all your strength, aiming for the line.

The ball landed just behind Feya, and you heard the crowd cheering, but there was no time to celebrate as Feya immediately challenged the call.

"The ball never touched the line!" she argued with the umpire. Your stomach knotted up as you watched the exchange.

You knew she was right a minute later. 

“Game, Feya,” the umpire said into the mic, giving the point to your opponent. Feya was already celebrating, waving to the crowd.

You felt the weight of the match pressing down on you. It was a tough blow, but you couldn't let it break your spirit. You had to regroup and fight back.

Hearing the crowd go wild for Feya was overwhelming. Every cheer and clap made you feel smaller and smaller on the court. The cheers that used to lift you up now felt like they were weighing you down.

You glanced over at Lucas, hoping for some reassurance, but his face was as blank as ever, trying hard not to show any concern. Hesitating, you looked towards Leah, just a couple of seats to the right. She gave you a small thumbs up and a faint smile, a quiet gesture that seemed to offer a bit of calm.

“Come on!” Feya shouted after nailing another winning shot. Her excitement felt like a stark contrast to your growing despair.

When you went back to your chair, you took a sip of water and tried to calm your breathing. Leah’s words kept running through your head. 

“You’re in control”

But right now, it felt like that control was slipping through your fingers.

“Come on, breathe,” you muttered to yourself, but it felt like the air was stuck in your lungs. You shut your eyes and clenched your fists, feeling the sweat and frustration mix on your palms.

When you got back to the court, it was like your body was on autopilot. Every swing felt off, and your movements were sluggish. Your opponent was all over you, dragging you from corner to corner, wearing you down physically and mentally.

By the last game of the second set, you weren’t even trying to win points anymore. You just wanted it to be over. You promised yourself you’d pull it together and make a comeback in the third set.

You sank into the chair again, trying to catch your breath and calm your racing thoughts. Taking a long sip of water, you glanced around. The sky was finally starting to clear, with the sun making a slow comeback behind the clouds. A gentle breeze brushed against your face, and you shut your eyes for a moment, trying to recapture the focus that had slipped away.

Man, if only the weather had been like this all day. Leah was right, you’d need some time to really appreciate this place, but you were willing to give it a shot, just for her. You daydreamed about hanging out with her, going for a lazy walk, or just chilling at her place,  breathing in her scent and running your fingers through her hair. If only you could wrap up this match and get to enjoy those moments, where you could kiss her, let her hug you, and hear all those cheesy lines of hers that make your heart flutter.

But first, you had to win this. You didn’t want Leah to have to comfort you; you wanted her to celebrate your victory and be proud to be with someone who had accomplished something great. You were determined to give her that.

The umpire called you and Feya back onto the court for the start of the third set. You knew you needed to grab an early lead to turn things around. Feya was looking pretty cocky, flashing a grin that made it seem like she was reading your every move. But you couldn’t let that get to you. It was all about focusing on each point.

You took your spot on the baseline, mentally gearing up for battle. The umpire's voice cut through the tension, announcing the start of the final set.

Feya served first, and the ball came toward you with impressive speed. But you were ready for it this time. It was the same serve you’d seen throughout the previous set. You sprang into action, positioning yourself for a powerful forehand return. You whipped the ball with a deep, precise cross court backhand, the kind you’d been perfecting ever since Leah had pointed out how well you were executing that shot in some or your previous dates. Feya managed a weak return, and you seized the opportunity, charging forward and smashing the ball into the opposite corner. Feya was left scrambling halfway down the court.

0-15

You felt a burst of confidence. You looked over at Leah and for the first time in the match, flashed her a big, genuine smile. It was like a switch had flipped, and you were right back in your element.

The next point turned up the heat even more.  Feya tried a serve and volley move, but you were quick on your feet. You lunged forward and nailed a backhand volley that just skimmed the net, landing right on the baseline. Feya had no chance of reaching it.

0-30

You could see Feya starting to lose her cool. She was slipping back to the nervous player from the first set, just like you were getting back into your game. Realizing she needed a new strategy, she started hitting higher and deeper shots to mess with you, but you stayed calm and took your time to set up your shots.

In one of the rallies, you spotted your chance. Feya sent up a short, high ball. You smacked a topspin drive that landed perfectly in the corner of the court.

court.

0-40

The game was slipping into your control. With every point you won, your confidence surged back. You knew you had to keep up this level of play. You took your position to receive the next serve, focused and ready. Feya tried an open serve, but you anticipated it perfectly, firing back with a powerful cross court shot. After a few intense exchanges, you decided to end it, pushing Feya into a tough spot. With a decisive forehand, you wrapped up the game.

“Game, Y/n” the umpire called out.

You celebrated with a big grin, clapping your hands together, just like Feya had done earlier.

“Williamson,” Lucas’s voice made Leah jump. She turned to find him with a serious look on his face. “What did you do to her?”

“Huh?” Leah was confused.

“Whatever it is, keep it up. My girl’s on fire.” Lucas said with a huge smile, almost with a hint of pride.

“I didn’t do anything, sir,” Leah tried to explain, as she watched you return to your spot after the break.

You had a serious look on your face, eyes focused straight ahead. Leah swallowed hard. You were a whole different player now compared to the previous set. Back then, she’d seen your hands shaking. Now, you were celebrating each point with passion, flashing her big smiles and winks after every great shot. Leah couldn’t help but think you were dedicating those moments to her, and she wasn’t wrong. 

All Leah wanted now was a cold shower, and if she could share it with you, even better.

The score was 2-5 in the final set, and it was your turn to serve. The whole court felt electric, with everyone hanging on every move, knowing this moment could be the game changer. Leah sighed deeply, watching as you neared the end of what had been one of your toughest matches.

You stood at the baseline, gripping your racket tightly, trying to calm the nerves buzzing inside you. You were determined to finish this match on a high note. You took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand, knowing that you could turn things around with the right mindset.

You tossed the ball into the air and served it with precision and power, landing right in the corner of the service box. Your opponent barely managed to get her racket on it, sending back a high, weak shot. You moved in quickly, taking full advantage and smacking a winning volley that left no chance for a return.

0-15

The next point was a real battle. You and Feya were just slamming shots back and forth from the baseline, moving side to side all over the court. Then, you broke the pattern with a killer cross court backhand that pushed your opponent into a corner. Desperate, she tried a smash, but it went wide.

“Out!”

0-30. You were almost there. 

The crowd was now buzzing with excitement, sensing the win was within reach. You took a deep breath and got ready for your next serve. This time, you went for a powerful serve to the corner. The ball shot off your racket and bounced before Feya could even react.

“Ace!”

You were on match point.

The court fell silent after a second, everyone waiting for you to close it out. This was your moment, the chance to turn things around and give the crowd something to cheer about after the previous set. With a grin, you adjusted your visor and shot Leah a playful look as you tightened your gold chain. You knew exactly what you were doing, and you hoped she did too.

You tossed the ball up again, locking in on it. Your serve was fast and right on target, aimed at the T. Your opponent reached for it, but the ball zoomed past her, landing perfectly in the corner.

“Ace!”

“Game, set, match,” the umpire announced.

You raised your arms up as the crowd went wild.

After all the interviews, press conferences, and autograph signings, you finally had time for Leah. You spotted her, she was chatting with Jane, and without a second thought, you sprinted over to her, not caring about the hours your legs spent on the court before. You jumped into her arms, knowing Leah would catch you, no matter what.

“Careful, darling!” she laughed, catching you with just one arm around your waist. You were drenched in sweat and out of breath, but Leah didn't seem to mind at all. “How do you feel?” she whispered in your ear. 

“Like I’m the best tennis player in the world,” you said with a cheeky grin.

“Hm, you might not be feeling that great tomorrow,” Jane said with a roll of her eyes, giving you a friendly shove to get you off Leah. “Let the poor girl breathe, she was on edge the whole game, and her legs must be killing her now.” she added, grabbing your bag and heading off, leaving you alone with Leah.

After you two were alone, you noticed Leah was carrying a huge bag and that’s why she’d only used one arm to hold you. “What’s in the bag?” you asked

“Oh, um… ” Leah’s face went red as she scratched the back of her neck. “Well, I had a lot of free time during the rain delay and... I was a bit nervous too, so I ended up going to the Wimbledon store.”

Before Leah could react, you snatched the bag from her hand.

“Damn, Leah,” you said, trying to hide your laugh by covering your mouth with your hand. “What the heck, did you bring the whole store?”

“Hey, I didn’t get to shop last year, and I needed some stuff,” she said, cringing as you started pulling things out of the bag. A lot of keychains, strawberry-shaped ones, little tennis rackets, and balls. “How many keys do you have that you need this many keychains?” you teased.

“Some of them are for gifts,” Leah said, quickly snatching them from your hands.

You reached in again and pulled out a huge green blanket. “What’s this for?”

“I was freezing! Unlike you, I was standing around and it was cold!” Leah said, her eyes wide as she almost panicked.

“Please tell me you didn’t get the Wimbledon socks,” you said, barely whispering, but Leah’s guilty look said it all.

“Don’t look at me like that! They’re absolutely my style!” Leah shot back, looking offended. “I can definitely pull them off!”

You thought about it for a second... Yeah, Leah had this way of rocking whatever she wore.

"Alright, you’ve got a point there, babe,” you said with a bit of a chuckle, feeling a bit defeated.

"Thanks," Leah replied, her smile warming up as she heard the nickname. “And I got one more thing,” she said, getting serious as she grabbed the bag and pulled out a giant tennis ball. “Here,” she said, handing it to you.

“What do you expect me to do with this?” you asked, eyeing the ball, it was one of those that kids get autographed all the time. “Leah, are you for real?”

Leah didn't say a word at first. Instead, she walked over to you and gently placed both hands on your waist. Leaning in close, she whispered, “What do I need to do to get my favorite tennis player’s autograph?” She gave you a quick, sweet kiss on the tip of your nose. “Is that enough?”

“I’ll think about it,” you murmured, almost lost in the sensation of her breath brushing against yours.

Leah shook her head with a playful smile and cupped the back of your neck, guiding you into a deep, tender kiss. 

“Congratulations on making it through the round,” she murmured between kisses, her voice filled with warmth and pride. Your smile widened as you let the joy of her affection wash over you.

“Maybe you are a lucky charm” you whispered. 

[ssa-danhotchner]

Crawling back to you | Aaron Hotchner x reader

summary: Aaron Hotchner finds himself unable to stop thinking about the connection he let slip through his fingers.

cw: fem!reader, use of y/n, past situationship

wc: 934

note: this is my first time writing here please be kind, english isn't my first language

The clock ticked past midnight, and Aaron Hotchner sat alone in his dimly lit study, the amber glow of a desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. A half-empty glass of whiskey rested by his hand, untouched for the past fifteen minutes. His gaze wasn’t on the paperwork scattered in front of him, nor on the book he’d meant to start reading an hour ago. Instead, it was fixed on his phone, his thumb hovering over a name that made his chest tighten.

[Y/N]

It had been years since he’d spoken to you. Not since you left the BAU. Not since he made the call to end whatever it was that had been building between you two—before it became something neither of you could control.

It had been years, but Aaron could still recall the way your laughter echoed in the bullpen during quiet moments between cases. The sound had been a rare gift in his otherwise chaotic world. You brought a lightness he didn’t know he needed—a reprieve from the endless weight of profiling killers and navigating his fractured personal life.

He thought of the nights you stayed late, pouring over case files with him in companionable silence. You didn’t ask questions about why he couldn’t leave, didn’t push when he kept his walls up, but your presence had a way of eroding his defenses. You didn’t demand anything from him, and that was the problem. You deserved someone who could give you everything, and Aaron knew he was not that man.

Still, there were moments when his resolve faltered. The way your hand brushed his when you handed him a file. The soft, concerned look in your eyes after a particularly grueling case. The lingering touch of your fingers on his shoulder as you said goodnight. He told himself it didn’t mean anything, but he knew better.

Aaron swallowed hard and leaned back in his chair, exhaling a shaky breath. The memory of your last conversation played in his mind like a song on repeat, the words still as sharp as they were the day they were spoken.

You stood in his office, arms crossed tightly over your chest, the tension between you palpable. The door was closed, the blinds drawn, but it felt like the whole world could see the cracks forming between you.

“You’re really doing this?” Your voice was quiet, but the hurt beneath it cut through Aaron like a knife. “You’re going to pretend like we don’t mean anything?”

“It’s not that simple,” Aaron replied, his tone measured, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

“It is that simple,” you snapped. “You either want this—want me—or you don’t. But don’t stand there and tell me it’s for my own good, like I can’t decide that for myself.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I’m doing this because I care about you,” he said finally. “Because I can’t give you what you need. I can’t be what you need.”

You stared at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Aaron. You don’t get to push me away and call it love.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But this—us—it’s a distraction. And distractions get people killed.”

The words hung in the air like a death knell. You took a step back, shaking your head as if trying to make sense of what he’d just said. “You’re scared,” you said, your voice trembling. “You’re scared to feel something real because it might actually make you happy. And God forbid you let yourself have that.”

Aaron didn’t reply. He couldn’t. He stood there, watching as you turned and walked out of his office, the sound of the door closing behind you echoing in his ears.

Aaron glanced at the phone again, your name glowing on the screen like a challenge. Are you awake? The words he’d sent seemed too small for everything he felt, but they were all he could manage. He hated how easily he could picture your face—your tired but curious smile, the tilt of your head when you thought he was being ridiculous. Would you even want to see him? Or had he burned that bridge too thoroughly?

The truth was, Aaron wasn’t sure what he wanted. Did he want closure? Forgiveness? Or something more dangerous—something he wasn’t sure he deserved?

Aaron hit send before he could stop himself. The phone felt heavy in his hand as he set it down, the seconds ticking by agonizingly slow. He told himself not to expect a reply—it was late, after all—but when his phone buzzed a moment later, his breath caught.

I wasn’t. I am now.

He stared at the words, a thousand emotions flooding through him at once. Relief. Nervousness. A flicker of hope. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of how to follow up, but he forced himself to type the truth.

I’ve been thinking about you.

The reply came quickly.

Funny. I’ve been trying not to think about you.

Aaron winced, though he supposed he deserved that. Still, you hadn’t ended the conversation, and that was something.

Would you meet me? he typed. I know it’s late, but I need to see you.

There was a longer pause this time, and Aaron held his breath, waiting for your answer. Finally, his phone buzzed again.

Same café as always?

Aaron grabbed his coat before he could think better of it.

The only thing he knew is that this time he wouldn't let you go.

[runnning-outof-time]

Hiiii, thank you so much for all of these they are so wonderful.

I would love something with Tommy and maybe 30? "You're not hurt are you?"

Was thinking maybe Tommy comes home after a particularly trying day and just flops onto the couch. Y/N comes home from food shopping shortly after and finds him and is concerned for him. They can be either married or whatever you see fit.

Uhmm I'd love it to be nice and fluffy, and I know you said you're not into writing shut sooo just go as heavy as you feel comfortable with and coat it with fluff and I'll be happy. >w< thank you so much I hope you're doing well and I'm happy to be part of this celebration with you! 💜

Thanks so much for sending this in, @chumon ! I’m sorry it took so long for me to write! I absolutely love this idea (thanks for adding some more detail to it…it made it easy to follow). I hope you like what I did with it! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Never Tired For You

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: a slightly suggestive conversation/situation

Word Count: 1153

Summary: (Y/N) finds Tommy laying on the couch and immediately thinks the worst…he couldn’t just be laying down, right?

Tommy was tired. It had only been two days into his two week stay in London, and he already felt exhausted by the numerous meetings he had to carry out. There was so much to keep track of: the on-going deal with Alfie Solomons and all of the turns that took, making sure Arthur continued to keep things in line at the Eden Club, and keeping tabs of whatever Inspector Campbell was going to have him do next.

Somehow he managed to carve out an afternoon to himself. He was hoping to spend it with his wife, (Y/N), who had joined him on this trip — against his own volition — but upon returning to his sister’s home, he found that she wasn’t in.

So he decided to lay down on the couch. Yes, Tommy Shelby actually took a moment for himself so that he could rest. No, the world didn’t come to an end. But he actually managed to find a position comfortable enough that made him want to stay on the couch.

(Y/N) had been out grocery shopping. She realized that Ada needed a few things, and so with nothing better to do she set out and ran some errands.

The surprise that was waiting for her back at the house just about made her drop the basket she was carrying. Never had she seen her husband laid out on the couch — especially in the middle of the day. The sight of it alone was enough to get her mind running in overdrive.

“Tommy? What’s happened?” she got right to the point as she hurried over to the couch he was laying on.

“Huh?” he asked in confusion, beginning to move from his laying position so that he could sit once more.

“No, don’t move,” she rushed to stop him, her one hand extended in his direction, “you’re not hurt, are you?” Asking the question made her heart drop. She’d did a quick scan of his frame and found nothing glaring at her, but she couldn’t be too sure.

“No, love, I’m not,” he shook his head, continuing with his motions of sitting up, looking up at her with furrowed eyebrows. “I was just laying down,” he told her then, fishing the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket so that he could slide one between his lips.

The second half of his statement made (Y/N) audibly gasp. There’s no way that Tommy Shelby would willingly lay down, she thought to herself incredulously. “Ok now I’m worried, Tom. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” he chuckled at her worry, “there’s not a scratch on me. I’ve just had a long day is all,” he made another attempt to quell her concerns. The look on her face told him that she didn’t quite buy it. “Would you like to check for yourself?” he asked then, his one eyebrow quirking upwards as a grin teetered on his lips.

She could tell by his facial expression that his question was leaning on the suggestive side of things. Just the thought of what he was hinting at made heat rush to her cheeks. His cheekiness was one of the things she loved about him.

“Hmm?” Tommy cut into her thoughts, looking up at her through his eyelashes as he waited for her response.

“No…” she trailed off, biting her bottom lip to conceal her grin when she saw a tinge of disappointment fill his features, “I think I’ll believe you. And besides…you said you had a long day,” she called back to his previous statement.

“I had a long day…doesn’t mean I’m too tired for me wife,” he reminded her, the previous glint returning to his eyes.

“Maybe later,” she decided, her grin growing to match his.

“C’mere then,” he beckoned, leaning back against the couch as he placed the cigarette between his lips again.

“Let me put these away first,” she answered him, lifting the basket she was still holding. He nodded in response and she went to the kitchen to put the groceries away. Moments later, she was back in the front room curled up into Tommy’s side. “So you’ve really only had a long day?” she couldn’t help but bring their previous conversation up again.

“Yes,” he answered, his fingertips absentmindedly dancing over the skin of her arm. “Arthur’s losing it at the club again…I’m not sure what I’m going to do with him.”

“Give him another chance,” (Y/N) suggested, lifting her head from his shoulder when she felt his eyes on her. “I mean it,” she doubled down on her stance, her eyes locked with his.

Tommy pursed his lips and thought about her comments for a moment before he let out a breath and looked to the windows.

“I’ll drop it,” she broke the silence, realizing that his mind was going again. She didn’t want to ruin this moment. “Let’s go back to just sitting here.”

After speaking, she turned on the couch so that she was able to straddle his lap. His hands quickly found their home on her hips, and his eyes were immediately back on hers as the mischievous glint returned.

“Just sitting here, eh?” he questioned her with raised eyebrows.

“I’m sitting,” she grinned, her hands finding his cheeks before she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Tommy’s hands moved to press flat against her back as their kiss deepened, bringing her body flush against his.

“If this is what it’d be like…” he breathed as they pulled away just slightly, “I’ll have to start coming home early more often.”

“If you hold up your end of the bargain, I’ll hold up mine, Mr. Shelby,” (Y/N) pulled further away from him so that he could see the smile present on her face.

Their lips met again, teeth clashing and tounges pressing together as they became lost in their embrace. Tommy tried to be sneaky with it, but (Y/N) pulled away when she felt him start to unbutton the top of her dress.

“Not so tired anymore, hmm?” she questioned, a suggestive glint in her eye as she sat up straight, her hands running down his cheeks so that she could settle them on his shoulders.

“Never tired for you, love,” he husked, his eyes blown with lust as he managed to continue with his mission despite her breaking further away from him.

“Let’s go to our room then. I don’t think Ada’d want us to do this on her couch.”

That was all Tommy needed to stop what he was doing and drop his hands from her frame. “Go on, then,” he nodded his head to her, “lead the way.”

(Y/N) wasted no time in standing from his lap. She waited for him to stand also before she gingerly took hold of his hand and led him to the steps and up to their room.

*tags in the reblogs so they’ll hopefully get sent out

MASTERLIST

[izvmimi]

cw: smut. both of you are inexperienced. handjob and cunnilingus only. fem!reader. reader has vaguely specified magic.

I want to do all the things that make you happy. 

Mash has a way of saying things that light a flame through your body from head to toe as though they are natural and hold minimal weight, as if the very idea of the man being at your service is a matter of fact, rather than a privilege you won’t easily give up.

It’s been a long road to making things official so to speak, converting the idea of friend into boyfriend, going so far as to having to use your magic to demonstrate the kinds of things ‘couples’ do. At times, it feels a little pushy and you wonder if you’re demanding too much of him, and that your next unexpected graze of his fingers might be met with recoil rather than softness. 

But when he holds your hand tighter whenever you reach for it, or rests his head on your shoulder; when he tells you how he feels, however serious or silly, you know that perhaps, at least for the time being, there’s something special between you. 

The only remaining matter is sex. Sex is something you’re hesitant to propose, particularly to someone who thinks of physicality only in the sense of battle or sport. You’ve laid awake many nights, conjuring images in clouds you think you could present to him to help better explain it, but your boyfriend is innocent like a child, and there’s no pure and demure way to tell him you want him so far up your center he needs a tour guide to come out.

But he’s told you, honestly and meaningfully, that he wants to make you happy, in any way he can. 

And so here you are, under the cover of night, letting him spoon you the way he knows you like, and wondering if he’s asleep yet.

“Mash.”

“Mm?” His legs fold, the fronts of his thighs pressing closer to the back of your legs. Sleeping together was something you’d also proposed, and for now it truly meant sleep, with some cuddling, and he’s found that he’s good at that too, fond of nuzzling his neck in the crook of your shoulder and inhaling your scent. You turn around and face him, and he’s not asleep or even tired yet, but his eyelids are lowered as he watches you, gold catching the moonlight. He’s pretty like this, mouth closed, and watching, attentive and waiting.

“Are you sleepy?” you ask. 

“I’m okay.” His hand grazes your cheek hesitantly then falls back under the bedsheets. “You need me?”

You fight the urge to pull his hand back to your cheek, then muster the courage to say, “Yes.”

He doesn’t ask how, because he can tell that there’s the same need in your eyes whenever he kisses you and pulls back too quickly, or when you watch a movie with him and a scene is particularly steamy, forcing your legs to press together as you lay against him, wrapped in a throw blanket. Instead of inquiring further, he turns your face towards him and lets his lips press to yours, tongue slipping quickly into your mouth, pulling your leg around his waist. You breathe him in until you’re practically dizzy, panting by the time you’ve pulled away from him. You never go further than this, but tonight, nipples pert against the thin fabric of your pajama set, warmth flooding the space between your legs, you are selfish enough to ask for more.

“Mash, can I… touch you a little lower?”

His hand takes your wrist and presses it to his abdomen, letting your fingers trace over the ridges of his sculpted core. His voice is breathy as he responds to you. “Here?”

“Lower.”

He nods and lets go of your wrist, letting you take the reins and have your fingers march slowly down, keeping heavy-lidded eye contact with him to make sure he’s okay. You travel to the soft hair of his happy trail, to the uncharted territory of his pubes and stop as he gasps, your hands reaching the root of his cock. 

“I-I can stop,” you say breathily. He kisses your wobbling lip, then smiles gently. 

“I don’t mind.”

Reassured, your hand closes around the girth of his cock, warm, thicker and heavier than you expected which makes your throat dry up and water just as fast once you start stroking. His eyes close as you pump his cock, leaning forward to suck kisses at his clavicle. He moans, a new sound that you haven’t heard, one that excites you and makes you hungrier for him - you pump faster, thumbing the pearls of pre coming from his tip, delighted in the fact that he feels good, you’re making him feel good, and soon-

He gasps and shudders, and your hands are now wet, sticky and he’s breathing heavily, looking at you again with a new hunger in his eyes.

“Can I repay you?” he asks, quickly, too eagerly. It’s all you want him to do, and your body arches as his fingers travel in the same way along your own anatomy, down the soft of your lower belly, past your pubes, lightly resting on your clit. There he lingers for a moment, and watches you for instruction. You don’t use the clouds you’ve prepared, rather you just whisper,

“Tap softly.”

He does, and he moves faster when you ask him to, slower when you do, the pads of his fingers surprisingly soft and careful. He dips his fingers in your warm center when you ask him to fill you, two teasing through your wet walls and curling, pressing up with gentle pressure against your front wall, the way you’ve guided him. Your stomach turns pleasantly as you careen into pleasure, and soon he’s up, straddling your legs, his other hand resting on your belly as he continues to move his fingers in and around your pussy. 

What shocks you, sending electricity down your spine is when he dips low and presses his mouth to it. 

“You, ah-” you moan and shudder involuntarily as his tongue replaces his fingers. “H-how do you…” your voice trails off as he continues to suck at your sensitive places, making your head rock back in need.

“I asked.”

The idea of him asking how to give you head should make you laugh, but you’re too busy letting your thighs squeeze around his head and hang off his shoulders. He’s doing a good job, it almost upsets you because perhaps you should have just asked earlier.

“M-Mash…”

He’s still working your center and now he seems like he’s gotten a rhythm to it, lapping up the juices that leak out of you like sweet cream. His hands dig into your thighs and his hands slip under as he eats, lifting your lower body off the ground to adjust his angle. 

He’s quiet and intentional, trying his best to make your body feel the pleasure you so desperately crave, to wear you out so you can fall asleep peacefully in his arms and not worry about if you’ll ever receive a sexual flavor of love from him, or how he feels about you sexually. He likes you in all ways, even if you have decided that him not wanting you sexually is acceptable if you can have the rest of his tender love and care.

Your head spins as the last long lick of his tongue from clit to taint sends you over the edge and you tremble in his mouth. He lowers you down as you shake, content to watch you let pleasure wash over you, hot and pliable before him as he settles on his knees.

“Do you feel good?” he asks.

He kisses you as you nod, then settles beside you. He smiles to himself as he stares at the ceiling, his own hand on his cock again, stroking up and down. 

“You wanna try something else?”

And as usual, Mash shows you that in all things physical, he's a very quick learner.

And more importantly, he's very good at what he does.

[dracoxsworld]

Can you do a fic where ron was jelly bc the reader was being too friendly to draco and had to show her who she belonged to ?

Hello friend! Thank you so much for the suggestion! I hope this is good enough for you :) I’m doing some requests as I prep the next part of arranged, I’m very excited.

WARNINGS: dom!ron x sub!reader, kinda rough sex ngl, jealousy, angry ron, p in v, oral sex both sides receiving, fingering, reader has female anatomy.

photo edited by me :)

You and Ron have been together for quite a while. Everyone knew you were together, no one even questioned it. Ron liked it that way.

You were his and nobody could do anything about it. He had always had a slight jelousy for his best friend, Harry Potter. He always got everything he had wanted. Ron thought Harry could get any girl he wanted with ease. So when Ron met you and got into a relationship with you, he is never going to let you go.

This was his opportunity to show the school, his family, the world, that he wasn't Harry Potter's lame and single best friend, he had the prettiest girl in school on his arm; and he was particularly protective.

Some of your peers liked to use you to annoy Ron; or try to make him feel insecure. This of course, included Draco Malfoy. You were a tad naive to realize it. You were simply thinking he was just trying to be your friend. It started out as you both being assigned as partners in potions. Draco was well aware of you and Ron being together; and used that to his advantage. He’d flirt with you, constantly talk to you, all while Ron would watch, just thinking.

“So Y/L/N, what’re you doing after class today?” Draco asked, side eyeing Ron, who was seated with Seamus. (Not a good mix, by the way.)

“Oh! I’m not sure, I need to study for Transfiguration…I’m struggling a bit.” You said while chewing on your bottom lip, reading the inked-in instructions for the current potion you both were assigned.

“I can help you with that, you know.” Draco suggested. This had caught your attention, you looked up from your potions book and smiled politely.

“Oh, no I’m okay, I believe Ron is assisting me,” you declined, looking over at your red headed boyfriend; who was watching you both the whole time. His arms were crossed, his eyes were darker than usual.

“Are you sure?” Draco voiced again, stepping closer to you, sliding the potions book away with one hand. You got nervous, just before you could respond, Professor Snape announced that class had dismissed, and you’d have to finish todays project tomorrow.

You swiftly grabbed your bag and ran out the door, leaving some of your belongings on your desk.

You ran to your dorm room, feeling a sense of panic. You were hoping Ron wasn’t think you were engaging with Draco’s behavior, that you weren’t flirting back.

You shook your head at the thought. Ron knows better, you told yourself. He would never think I’d do that.

Does he?

You had opened the door to your dorm quickly and slid in and slammed it, locking it. You set your bag in the floor and flung your body onto your unmade bed. “Stupid Y/N. It’s so obvious he was flirting with you.” You mumbled to yourself, your face squished into your duvet. You sat up and looked in your body-length mirror.

Your hair was a bit of a mess, probably from you flinging yourself onto your bed. You ran your hands through your hair to make it look a bit nicer, and gave yourself a small smile of reassurance.

Knock knock knock knock

You jumped, and turned towards your door. “Please don’t tell me your name is Draco Malfoy.” You groaned.

“You’re damn right it isn’t.” Your boyfriends voice boomed through your door. It startled you, it was his voice but it sounded different. “Ron?” You fled out.

“Yes, open the door.” Ron demanded. You did as you were told and unlocked the door and peeked through. You saw your beautiful boyfriend looking down at you, looking not too happy.

You looked down and noticed he had the belongings you had left at your desk in his arms. Some potion bottles, your book, and some quills. You then noticed his knuckles looked slightly stained with red, and bruised.

You looked back up at him with your lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, still peeking through the small crack in the door.

“Are you going to let me in?” Ron asked impatiently. You nodded and let him in, closing the door behind him. Ron set down your supplies on your desk neatly. Setting the potion bottles up on their designated shelves, putting your quills in ink you had, and setting your book in your built in shelf in your desk.

He turned towards you and slowly walked up to you. You were picking a hangnail, unable to get even a sound out. “Draco has taken quite a liking to you.” Ron seethed. You shook your head. “I disregarded him, Ron. You know I’d never—“

“I’m not worried about you, pretty girl.” He specified, his hand lifting your chin towards him. You licked your lips, looking at his. He smiled down at you. “I’m going to show him that you’re mine, he’s going to hear you. He’s going to see you all fucked up from me.”

Your underwear was wet, your eyes widened and you rubbed your thighs together at his words. “On the bed, pretty.” He prodded you, pushing you towards the bed. You listened, wanting him to do whatever he wanted to you. To be honest, you loved it when he got this way. There was something about it that immediately turned you on.

He took off he belt, keeping his eye contact with you. You sat up on the bed, your eyes scanning him up and down. He took off his uniform pants, sliding off his shoes with them. He crawled on top of you, his hands beginning to fiddle with your button up shirt. “These bloody buttons-“ He grumbled before crashing his lips into yours, it was aggressive but loving all at once. It was demanding, you stood no chance of taking over. You let him have control.

He got fed up with your shirt at one point he just ripped it off, buttons flew everywhere. “Ron!” You exclaimed, breaking the kiss.

“Shut it, you have hundreds of those blasted shirts.” He spat. He kissed you again, harsher, and unclasping your bra. He threw it across the room carelessly, not taking any attention off of you, he pushed you back toward the headboard of the bed, putting you in his lap so you were straddling him. His hands were everywhere; your hair, your waist, the hem of your skirt, etc.

Ron’s fingers crept past your skirt, and they lightly grazed your clothed heat. You moaned in his at the feeling immediately. “You drive me fucking crazy, do you understand?” Ron mumbled in the kiss. You nodded, hardly containing your sounds of pleasure from his fingers teasing your soaking wet core, your panties still acting as a barrier. “I want to hear your response.” He prodded. “Yes Ron, I understand,” you whimpered. Ron’s hips grinded upwards towards yours, as his finger continued to tease your core still clothed.

“Please–“ you begged him in the heated kiss. You wanted him now, you didn’t care how. Ron broke the kiss, still teasing you “Please what, princess?”

“I want your mouth,” You pleaded, your face pink from embarrassment. “What a perfect idea, pretty. Only if you moan my name loud enough will determine if I let my pretty girl cum, how does that sound?”

You moaned, his fingers were still lightly touching you. You needed more, this wasn’t enough. You tried to grind towards his fingers more, and he immediately took them away. You whined, it felt like torture. “Don’t be a brat.” He demanded. He slid himself out from under you, so you were laying in the pillows and on your back, and flipped your skirt up into your belly. He laid on his stomach and inches himself close to in-between your legs.

He teasingly licked slowly up the inside of your thighs, making you moan his name, your hands in his red hair pulling it like reins. He hummed as he got closer to your core, with your now saturated panties. You felt lightheaded, this wasn’t fair, you needed him desperately more than ever. Your core was aching for his mouth. “Fuck Ron, please please!” You cried desperately. He finally complied, hooking his fingers under your soaked panties and pulled them off.

“My goodness, excited are we?” Ron teased, licking his lips. Your pussy was dripping, begging for him to clean you up. He went in immediately afterwards, slowly licking your core up and down. Focusing on each inch. In circles, his tongue went. He planted a few kisses, and went back to licking up your juices. You threw your head back and screamed his name, forgetting you both didn’t set a Muffliato spell. Oh well, Draco’ll definitely hear you.

He hummed as he ate you out, making it even more pleasurable. “Ron, fuck!” You moaned loudly, felt like you shook your dorm walls. You saw him smile and he was licking every inch. His tongue abused your hole, going in and out as his thumb played with your clit. “God, Draco wishes he could lick your cunt like this, fuck Y/N.” Ron groans

You felt a knot forming in your stomach, your legs were shaking violently. “Ron, I’m close!” You moaned. He immediately backed away. You moaned in frustration.

“Ron please, I can’t take much more,” you begged. Your boyfriend shook his head at you and laughed. he took your jaw in his hand “You’re going to earn it, you’re going to learn to not even look in Malfoy’s direction. Understood?” Ron demanded. You nodded, tears falling down your cheeks. Your core was dripping, making a wet spot on your sheets.

“You’re going to pleasure me” Ron announces.

You got up on your knees, which were very weak. Ron’s hard cock was easily visible in his boxers, he slid them off letting it free. He got up from the bed and stood towards the edge. You got on your stomach with your legs in the air and crossed behind you, taking his length in your mouth immediately, licking off the pre-cum.

“Fuck baby, you already know what to do.” Ron groaned, collecting your hair and making a ponytail with his hand, wrapping it around his fist. This made you groan in his dick, rolling your eyes back, but still staying stable enough. You pumped him with your hand and he guided your head, bobbing it up and down on his dick. He again, had a majority of control. That bastard.

His dick was hitting violently against the back of your through causing the urge to gag. You free hand was balled up in a fist with your nails going into your skin making crescent-shaped indents, trying to distract yourself from the urge.

“Take it, look at me.” Ron demanded, your eyes fluttered open and looked at him. “Malfoy couldn’t fuck your mouth this could, could he? Huh? You’re stuffed with my cock.” You made noises at his response, rubbing your thighs together. You shut your eyes again trying to focus on not orgasming right there, even with the absence of his touch.

“Eyes on me, I said.” Ron’s voice boomed again. You whined and opened your eyes agin and looked at him. He threw his head back, his mouth agape, “Pretty girl, I’m close,” He groaned, eyebrows together. You bummed around his dick, head being pushed on it up and down violently by his hands gripping your hair. His hand pushing you on his dick started getting off beat and sloppy, you knew he was very close.

You went faster and faster, ignoring the tears and sweat rolling down your face. You felt his warm liquid roll down your throat as his dick twitched and his loud moans were all you heard.

He hands gently ran through your hair, he pulled out of your mouth and looked down at you. His smile was wicked, but you still saw the love behind it. “On your back, on you go.” You excitedly complied. Your body was aching for him, begging him to fuck the shit out of you. you flipped your skirt up to expose your cunt, soaking wet from his sexual torture. Ron hovered over you, his arms on both sides of you, he leaned down and left sloppy kisses on your neck and collarbones, leaving bite marks. You moaned his name and begged for him to pleasure you.

“You’ve been patient enough, pretty girl,” Ron said sweetly, he likes himself up to you, and teased your slit with his cock. You whines and dug your nails into his back.

He entered into you, giving you time to adjust. You felt so full, so good. “Ron, fuck.” You whined.

“Pretty girl, you feel so perfect; so warm and tight, fuck.” Ron groaned into your neck. His pace was slow, it hit the right spot, he knew you so well. The room was full of your moans and the smell of sex.

Ron had sped up, the sound of your skin slapping together joined the sounds of pleasure you both were making together. His dick was hitting your g-spot like a arrow on the middle of a target. Over and over again. Meanwhile, he continued to leave hickeys on your chest, collar bones and shoulders.

He then sat up and tossed your legs over his shoulders, exposing you more. He railed into you, more aggressively now. Your eyes were full of tears from pure pleasure. The knot in your stomach was forming again.

“Ron, please– let me-“ You moaned, looking him in the eye.

“I am too, cum in my cock baby, come on,” Ron grunted.

After a few more thrusts, you both hit your point, both of you groaning simultaneously, Ron then pulling out and collapsing next to you. You both were covered in sweat, and each others fluids. Ron’s hands ran over his chest that was rapidly going up and down.

“Y/N?” Ron perked up, holding himself up by one arm, looking down at you.

“Yes, Ron?”

“I love you, you know that, right? I just can���t stand Malfoy talking to you like that..”

“Of course, Ron. I love you too. He’s not really interested in me, he just does it to piss you off, I think.” You replied, your hand on his cheek. He gave you a doubtful look.

“However, I should talk to Malfoy more often, that was quite fun.” You chuckled. Ron rolled his eyes at you, and gave you a kiss on the nose.

[elryuse]

For Better Or Worse, Right?

Yandere Asa & Rami X Male Reader

Requested By My Friend @superkpopeditsgirlgroup on Tumblr & Discord. I hope You Like it.

The first time you saw Asa and Rami on stage, you were captivated. The way they moved, the way their voices blended seamlessly—it was perfection, an artistry that touched something deep within you. You followed them religiously, attending every live broadcast, buying every album, and scouring social media for their latest updates. Your admiration wasn't just infatuation; it felt like love. You convinced yourself that what you wanted most was their happiness, even if it came at the expense of your own.

But never in your wildest dreams did you think you'd meet them.

The day of the fan meeting felt surreal. As you stood in line clutching your album and a handwritten letter, your heart raced. Hundreds of other fans surrounded you, all buzzing with the same excitement. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, you felt like today was your day. A flicker of hope, perhaps foolish, told you that something special would happen.

When it was finally your turn, you stepped up to the table where Asa and Rami sat, radiant and smiling. Asa's sharp eyes scanned you curiously, while Rami offered you a warm, genuine grin.

"Hello! What's your name?" Asa asked, tilting her head slightly.

You swallowed hard, feeling your palms grow damp. "Y-Y/n."

Rami leaned forward slightly, her voice soft yet teasing. "You look nervous, Y/n. Don't worry; we don't bite."

Their laughter, light and melodic, put you at ease, if only for a moment. You handed them your album and watched as they signed it, occasionally glancing up at you. It felt like time slowed as they asked you questions—what you liked about their music, which performance was your favorite. You answered as best you could, trying not to stumble over your words.

Then, as Asa was handing back your album, she slipped a small note inside. Her fingers brushed yours for the briefest moment, sending a shiver up your spine. She winked before leaning back.

The fan meeting ended, but your world had just shifted. When you opened the note later, it simply read: Text me sometime with a phone number scrawled beneath it. Your hands trembled. Was this a mistake? Did she give this to anyone else?

You stared at the note all night, questioning its authenticity. But the next day, with your courage bolstered, you sent a text. To your surprise, the reply came quickly.

Asa : Hey, Y/n! It’s me, Asa. Don’t tell anyone I gave you my number, okay? ;) How are you?

You : Hi, Asa. I’m… honestly, I’m still trying to believe this is real. Is it really you?

Asa : Of course, silly! Why would I joke about this? Rami says hi, by the way!

Rami : Hi, Y/n! Asa’s been talking about you nonstop since yesterday, so I figured I’d join in, haha.

From that point on, your life became a whirlwind of excitement. Asa and Rami texted you daily, sharing photos and updates that no one else got to see. Sometimes, they’d even call late at night, their laughter and voices keeping you company when the world felt too quiet.

"Y/n," Asa said one night during a call, her voice playful but serious underneath. "You’re really special, you know that? I can tell you genuinely care about us, not just as idols but as people. That’s rare."

"I just want you both to be happy," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Well," Rami chimed in, her tone lighter, "you make us happy too. Don’t forget that."

It felt like a dream. They were everything you ever wanted—kind, funny, and breathtakingly beautiful. And somehow, inexplicably, they seemed to like you back.

The dream, however, began to crack weeks later.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you received a text from Asa. At first, your heart leaped, but as you read it, a strange weight settled in your chest.

Asa : Hey, Y/n. Just thought you should know—Rami and I both have boyfriends. I hope that doesn’t change anything between us.

Your hands froze over the screen. Boyfriends? It felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs. You re-read the message several times, hoping you’d misunderstood. But the words didn’t change. They had boyfriends.

"Are you okay with that?" Asa asked during a call later, her tone light but with an edge of concern.

"Of course," you lied, forcing a laugh. "Why wouldn’t I be? I just want you both to be happy, remember?"

Asa sighed in relief. "I knew you’d understand. You’re too sweet, Y/n."

Despite your words, a storm brewed inside you. You convinced yourself it didn’t matter. They were happy, and that was all you ever wanted. But as time passed, the texts grew less frequent. The calls dwindled. Asa and Rami, once so warm and engaging, began to feel distant.

One evening, after nearly two weeks of silence, you decided to text them. The reply was curt.

Rami : Sorry, Y/n. We’ve been really busy lately. Hope you’re doing well.

Busy? You wanted to believe it, but their social media told a different story. Pictures of them laughing with friends, enjoying lavish dinners, and spending time with their boyfriends flooded your feed. There was no mention of being "busy."

The pain was sharp, almost unbearable. You sat in your room, staring at your phone, hoping for another message, another chance to feel the warmth they once offered. But the screen remained dark.

Had they forgotten about you? Did the moments you shared mean nothing to them? The thought consumed you, pulling you into a dark, restless spiral.

The decision to let go wasn’t easy. It had taken weeks—no, months—of restless nights, wondering if you were just a footnote in their story. Asa and Rami had once made you feel like you belonged in their world, but now, that world felt unreachable.

Staring at your phone, you took a deep breath and began typing the message that had been weighing on your mind.

You : Hey Asa, hey Rami. I hope you’re both doing well. I just wanted to say thank you—for everything. Knowing you, even for a little while, has been one of the best experiences of my life.

I think it’s time for me to step back, though. You both have your group, your fans, and your lives. And I’ll keep supporting you, always. But it’s time for me to focus on my own life, too.

No matter what, I’ll always love you both. Take care, okay?

You hesitated before pressing send. Once the message left your phone, there was no taking it back. But deep down, you knew this was for the best. The bond you once shared was gone, and clinging to it only made the ache worse.

Asa responded a few hours later, her reply short and devoid of emotion.

Asa : Got it. Thanks for understanding. Take care too.

Rami didn’t respond at all.

It stung, more than you cared to admit. But you told yourself this was the closure you needed. They were busy with their careers, their boyfriends, their lives. It was selfish to expect anything more.

For the first time in what felt like forever, your phone was quiet. There were no late-night texts, no selcas or updates that made your heart flutter. The silence was deafening at first, but slowly, you began to adjust.

You focused on work, picking up new hobbies to fill the void they left behind. Life started to feel... manageable. The pain lingered, but it dulled over time. You told yourself that Asa and Rami had moved on, and so should you.

Meanwhile, Asa and Rami were riding the high of their latest comeback. Their schedules were packed with performances, interviews, and fan events. They barely noticed your absence, too consumed by the whirlwind of their careers and their relationships.

At least, that’s what you thought.

It started small. A message from Asa late at night.

Asa : Hey, haven’t heard from you in a while. Everything okay?

You stared at the screen, conflicted. Part of you wanted to reply, to fall back into the pattern of clinging to their fleeting attention. But you resisted. She didn’t need you, not really.

A few days later, Rami sent you a selca. Her smile was radiant as always, but the caption beneath it struck an odd note.

Rami : Miss your compliments, Y/n. Hope you’re doing okay.

Why now? You hadn’t heard from them in weeks, and now they were reaching out as if nothing had changed. You replied politely but kept your responses brief, not wanting to reopen wounds that had barely begun to heal.

But the messages didn’t stop.

Asa and Rami started texting you daily again, more frequently than before. At first, it was casual—asking how you were, what you were up to. Then it became more persistent.

Asa : Why don’t you ever call anymore?

Rami: You’re not ignoring us, are you?

You tried to maintain boundaries, replying sporadically, but they seemed determined to pull you back into their orbit. They’d send you photos—candid shots from backstage, videos of them goofing around in the studio. It was as if they were trying to remind you of the connection you once shared.

One night, Asa called you out of the blue. Her voice was unusually sharp.

"Why haven’t you been talking to us, Y/n?" she demanded.

"I thought it was better this way," you admitted. "You’re both so busy, and I didn’t want to get in the way."

"You’re not in the way," Asa snapped. "We... we liked having you around. Don’t you care about us anymore?"

Her words left you stunned. Before you could respond, Rami’s voice joined the call, softer but no less insistent.

"You promised you’d always love us, Y/n. Did you forget?"

Their messages became more erratic over the following weeks. If you didn’t reply quickly enough, they’d bombard you with texts, sometimes accusing, sometimes pleading.

Asa : Are you talking to someone else?

Rami : Don’t forget who was there for you first.

You started to feel like a prisoner in your own life, their presence suffocating despite the physical distance between you. They began to show up in unexpected places—cafes you frequented, even outside your apartment building. Always with the same excuses: "We were in the area," or "We just wanted to see you."

Their boyfriends seemed to vanish from the picture. Asa and Rami never mentioned them anymore, and their social media accounts were conspicuously devoid of any couple photos. When you asked about it, Asa brushed it off with a dismissive laugh.

"They weren’t important," she said. "Not like you."

One night, you came home to find a package waiting for you. Inside was a framed photo of Asa and Rami, along with a handwritten note.

We belong to you, Y/n. Don’t ever forget that.

Your heart pounded as you stared at the note. The handwriting was shaky, almost frantic. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut: they hadn’t moved on at all. If anything, they had become obsessed.

You tried to confront them, but they denied everything, their voices sweet and convincing. "You’re imagining things," Rami said, her smile never reaching her eyes. "We just care about you, that’s all."

But their actions told a different story. You began to feel like you were being watched, their presence lingering even when they weren’t there.

The opportunity to manage Nov4 was a lifeline. After everything with Asa and Rami, it felt like a chance to start over. Nov4 was a smaller girl group, just beginning to make a name for themselves in the competitive industry. The girls—Mina, Hana, Jisoo, and Nari—were hardworking, kind, and grateful for your guidance. Working with them brought a sense of purpose you hadn’t felt in months.

For the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe.

But it didn’t last.

The fan event was supposed to be a joyous occasion, a chance for Nov4 to connect with their growing fanbase. You stood near the back of the venue, watching as the girls charmed their audience with bright smiles and energetic performances.

Everything seemed perfect—until you felt it.

A chill ran down your spine, the unmistakable sensation of being watched. You scanned the crowd, your heart sinking when your eyes landed on two familiar figures. Asa and Rami.

They stood near the back, their faces partially obscured by masks and hats, but their eyes told you everything. They weren’t here for Nov4. They were here for you.

Asa’s glare was sharp enough to cut steel, while Rami’s expression was a mix of hurt and fury. They didn’t approach, didn’t make a scene, but their presence was enough to rattle you.

Your phone buzzed incessantly in your pocket.

Asa : So this is what you’ve been doing? Babysitting nobodies?

Rami : Do you think you can replace us with them?

Asa : We see you, Y/n. Don’t ignore us.

Your hands trembled as you turned off your phone, shoving it deep into your pocket. This was wrong. What they were doing was wrong. They had boyfriends, for God’s sake. Why couldn’t they just leave you alone?

Ignoring them seemed like the only option, but it only seemed to provoke them further. The messages became more erratic, their tone oscillating between anger and desperation.

Asa : You’re ours, Y/n. You promised.

Rami : Why are you avoiding us? Do you think you can escape?

Asa : We’re not going to let you forget us.

You blocked their numbers, but somehow, they found other ways to contact you—through anonymous accounts, through emails, even through fan mail addressed to Nov4.

One night, as you were walking back to your car after a long day at the studio, you found a note taped to your windshield.

You can’t hide from us, Y/n.

Your blood ran cold

The breaking point came during another fan event for Nov4. The girls were busy signing albums and chatting with fans when you noticed a commotion near the entrance. Asa and Rami walked in, flanked by their boyfriends.

Your stomach dropped.

They made a beeline for you, their expressions icy and unreadable. Before you could react, Asa’s boyfriend shoved you back against a table, causing a loud crash that drew everyone’s attention.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Asa hissed, her voice low but venomous.

"You think you can just walk away from us?" Rami added, her eyes glinting with malice.

The girls of Nov4 froze, their smiles faltering as they watched the scene unfold. Mina stepped forward hesitantly. "Is everything okay?"

Asa turned to her, her smile sickly sweet. "Oh, everything’s fine. We’re just catching up with an old friend. Right, Y/n?"

You didn’t answer, your jaw clenched as you tried to contain your humiliation. Asa’s boyfriend gave you another shove for good measure, laughing mockingly.

"You’re pathetic," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Jisoo and Nari moved to your side, their expressions protective. "Leave him alone," Jisoo said, her voice trembling but firm.

Asa sneered, but she didn’t push further. "We’ll see you around, Y/n," she said, her tone dripping with warning.

They left as suddenly as they’d arrived, leaving you to deal with the aftermath. Nov4’s fans whispered among themselves, the girls looking at you with a mixture of concern and confusion.

That night, Mina found you sitting alone in the practice room, staring blankly at the floor. She sat down beside you, her usual bubbly demeanor subdued.

"Who were they?" she asked gently.

"Just... people I used to know," you said, your voice hollow.

Mina didn’t push for details. Instead, she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Whatever’s going on, we’ve got your back. Okay?"

Her words brought a lump to your throat. You nodded, grateful but unable to shake the feeling of dread that clung to you like a shadow.

Because deep down, you knew this wasn’t over. Asa and Rami weren’t going to let you go that easily.

The bullying started subtly but escalated quickly. Asa and Rami seemed determined to destroy every shred of peace you’d managed to find. At first, it was snide remarks during public events, whispers loud enough for you and Nov4 to overhear.

"Guess even nobodies need a manager," Rami had said once, her boyfriend laughing along.

Their boyfriends became involved, too, their behavior disgusting and cruel. They made lewd jokes about Nov4, their appearances, and their talents. The girls—Mina, Hana, Jisoo, and Nari—tried to stay strong, but it was clear the harassment was taking a toll.

You saw the exhaustion in their eyes, the way their smiles faltered during rehearsals.

One night, as you were walking Mina to her car, she confided in you. "Why are they doing this to us, Y/n? What did we do wrong?"

You couldn’t tell her the truth. That this nightmare was because of you.

"I’ll handle it," you said firmly, though the weight of your promise felt unbearable.

When Asa and Rami’s harassment extended to Nov4’s performances—spreading false rumors, sabotaging their equipment—you’d had enough. You sent a message demanding a meeting, hoping to reason with them.

They replied almost instantly.

Asa : We’ll be there. We’ve been waiting for you to come to your senses.

The meeting took place in an abandoned café after hours. Asa and Rami arrived hand in hand, their smiles unsettlingly sweet.

"You wanted to talk?" Asa asked, her tone mockingly innocent.

"Stop this," you said, your voice trembling with suppressed rage. "Leave Nov4 out of this. Whatever you want from me, I’ll—"

"Whatever we want?" Rami interrupted, smirking. "Y/n, you already know what we want. We want you."

"I can’t—I won’t," you stammered. "This is wrong, and you know it. You have boyfriends, careers—"

"Boyfriends?" Asa cut you off, laughing darkly. "Oh, Y/n. You still don’t get it, do you?"

Rami reached into her bag and pulled out a tablet. She tapped the screen, and a live feed appeared.

Your blood ran cold.

Nov4. The girls were tied to chairs in what looked like a dimly lit basement. They were crying, their muffled screams piercing your heart.

"What—what the hell is this?" you yelled, lunging toward them.

Rami stepped back, holding the tablet out of reach. "Don’t worry," she said sweetly. "We’re just helping you make a decision."

"Let them go!" you begged, your voice cracking. "They haven’t done anything! Please, I’ll do whatever you want—just don’t hurt them!"

Asa leaned in, her face inches from yours. "You say that, but you’re still trying to run from us. Why, Y/n? Why can’t you see we’re meant to be together?"

"This isn’t love," you spat, tears streaming down your face. "This is sick!"

Asa and Rami exchanged a look before smiling.

"Well," Asa said, her tone turning cold. "If you’re not going to choose, we’ll make the decision for you."

She gestured to the tablet, and the camera angle shifted. Two men stepped into the frame—Asa and Rami’s so-called boyfriends. One of them smirked at the camera before pulling out a knife.

"No!" you screamed, your voice breaking as the men approached the girls.

Mina, Hana, Jisoo, and Nari screamed, their cries muffled by the gags. You pleaded, begged, but Asa and Rami just watched, their expressions eerily calm.

The men acted quickly, their movements efficient and brutal. You screamed as the feed went black, the sound of the girls’ cries haunting you.

"You... you monsters!" you yelled, collapsing to your knees.

Asa crouched beside you, her voice a whisper. "Don’t you see? We did this for you. They were in the way."

"You’re insane!"

Rami sighed, her tone almost bored. "You’ll understand eventually. But for now..."

There was an explosion in the distance, shaking the ground beneath you.

Asa smiled. "Oh, don’t worry about them. They’ve served their purpose."

You stared at them in horror as they stood, hand in hand, laughing at the destruction they’d wrought.

You collapsed to the ground, your knees weak and trembling. The weight of it all the screams of Nov4 still echoing in your mind, the sight of Asa and Rami laughing as if they hadn't just orchestrated a massacre-was too much.

"You're monsters," you whispered, your voice hoarse.

Rami knelt in front of you, her eyes wide and filled with a dark kind of love. "We're not monsters, Y/n. We're your salvation."

"You'll understand someday," Asa said, crouching beside you, her voice soft like a lullaby. "This is all for you. Everything we've done is because we love you."

"Love?" you spat, tears streaming down your face. "You call this love? You've destroyed everything! You've killed innocent people!"

Rami tilted her head, her smile unnervingly gentle. "They were just distractions. Now it's just us. The way it was always meant to be."

Your hands clenched into fists, your nails digging into your palms. Guilt and anger warred within you, but the guilt won.

"This is my fault," you whispered, your voice breaking. "If I'd stayed away... if I'd just..."

"You're right," Asa said, her tone calm yet cruel.

"It is your fault. But that's okay. We forgive you."

Rami leaned closer, her breath warm against your ear. "We'll always forgive you, Y/n. No matter what."

You couldn't take it anymore. The weight of their words, the lives lost because of you-it was unbearable. A broken sob escaped your lips as you clutched your head, shaking violently.

"I... I can't do this anymore," you choked out. "I can't..."

Your hand moved instinctively toward your pocket, where you kept a small pocketknife.

Maybe, just maybe, you could end this nightmare.

But Asa was faster. Her hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with an iron grip.

"Ah-ah," she cooed, her voice a mockery of sweetness. "That's not an option, Y/n. You don't get to leave us."

Rami pulled a syringe from her bag, the liquid inside glowing faintly in the dim light. "We thought you might try something stupid," she said with a sigh. "But don't worry, we've got it under control."

Your eyes widened in panic as you struggled, but Asa's grip was unyielding.

"Let me go!" you screamed, thrashing against them. "Please, just let me go!"

Rami's smile never wavered as she pressed the needle against your arm. "Shh," she whispered. "It'll all be over soon."

The sharp prick of the needle pierced your skin, and a cold numbness began to spread through your body. Your vision blurred, the edges of the world dissolving into darkness.

"No... no," you mumbled, your voice weak.

Asa leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear. "You're ours now, Y/n. There's no more running, no more hiding."

"You'll never escape us," Rami added, her voice low and haunting.

As the world faded away, their faces were the last thing you saw-smiling, serene, and utterly unhinged.

"You belong to us," they said in unison, their voices echoing in your mind as you slipped into unconsciousness.

And with that, everything went dark.

The End

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

could you do a yandere demon mitsuri or shinobu with a demon slayer darling

Demon Slayer Reader in Reverse AU | Yandere KNY

In this alternate universe the hashira are the equivalents of the Upper Moons. Unbelievably strong, incredibly devious, and just as responsible for innumerable deaths as their creator. You on the other hand are like Tanjiro Kamado, a demon slayer dutifully following the orders of Muzan as he’s determined to finally stop the rampant killing that those demons do. But there’s something special about you. Something that the demons just can’t deny. That has them persistently chasing you their greater their connection to their beloved creator. Maybe it’s the blood of their kin, or your kissable lips, or the curses you mutter as your sword doesn’t slice through their necks. Either way they are down-bad:

Mitsuri Kanroji

Turned after being rejected for her strength and differences

Now she uses them to eat scores of humans particularly the most bland people she can find

Can you believe just how few people she actually loves?

Too few people are special because of their differences or physical traits

Which means she’s happily devour all those who don’t which is a lot

She of course claims it’s love at first sight when she sees you

It really can be something as simple as a colorful hanafuda or being deaf

Anything unique to you makes her weak in her knees

“You’re making me so happy just to have met you! I love you!”

So busy fawning over you, she barely misses your swing

Stronger than others she only falls for you deeper

In her twisted mind the blood of Ubuyashiki makes beautiful people of his divine choice even more beautiful 

Thus her mission when fighting you is to turn you

So she can have your beauty be eternal

“Don’t avoid me for long my Love! I’m going to make you perfect soon!’

The biggest challenge other than her flexibility, the cherry blossom flooded air, and her insane physical strength is her beau

Rarely does the Demon Moon of Love leave without the Demon Moon of Snakes in tow

And while for your first meetings he definitely is not trying to keep you alive for the change

After he get’s to know you and a nice talk that involves lot’s of dying lower rank demon slayers they’ll both be on the same page

Which will spell absolute doom for you as the conniving duo is not going to bother being upfront 

They’ll scheme

They’ll plot 

Hold your tsugoko or friends from up high as they take advantage of your heightened emotions

“I want to love you forever and ever and ever. And no one is going to stop me! Not even you”

Shinobu Kocho

She was turned along with her sister who Ubuyashiki saved after she fell ill

For years prior she had devoted herself to science, to medicine only for it to fail her at every turn 

Only when she incorporated the great Ubuyashiki’s blood into her creations does she find proper results good results

And she is praised with having so many willing addicted meals and servants to offer as she produces her remedies for masses

Interacting with prey so often gives her a better way to hide and know about the demon slayer’s actions

And amateur slayers that come into her shop swords drawn are usually bullied by the surrounding towns folk

All to be beaten up and kicked out of the town becoming easy pickings at that point

She thought she’d do the same to you

By the way you walked she could sense your power and her mortal end coming closer

But you didn’t attack

Surrounded by many of her loyal customers you ask that she try the contents of a vial to tell what it is

Since it’s suspicious to the people you offer to drink it, another villager drinks it

“You’re the greatest medic in this region. Won’t you tell me what it is and where to find it?”

It’s Wisteria

Potent and poisonous wisteria 

Here shinobu is faced with a choice

Attack you ruin her reputation and have to deal with a mob

Or…

drink it and writhe revealing her demon form to be attacked by the mob

“You think you’re a cunning little butterfly don’t you. Flashing your poisonous colors at me. You aren’t aware of the hunger you’ve aroused in me!”

She wasn’t happy as a human with the limits she had

So she doesn’t choose any of those options opting to kill everyone 

You block the attack finding out it’s a feint for her to run away 

Run away with a snarl that she hasn’t shown for hundreds of years

How dare you!? 

Ruining her perfect system 

When she reports to the Ubuyashiki compound by night she’s got her head down low while reporting 

As expected she was chewed out not only by The Ubuyashiki but the Upper Moons as well 

And there is one person she blames above all for her shame

“That despicable little demon slayer!! I’m going to make them pay!”

Her hatred for you becomes a widely welcomed truth among the other demons

Hanging your whereabouts above her head 

As she snaps at them like a snarling dog

But her hatred is not simply that

She wants to own you 

To hold your face as she successfully demonstrates her mass attack absorbing all within the vicinity 

To clip your pretty little wings and delight in your forbidden flavor for as long as possible

When one of her colleagues theonesheclaimsshehatesthemost pressures her she’s rambling to him about how she’d never want to actually kill you nor turn you completely into a demon like she

“They’re not good enough for Master…but it’d be a shame for such a beautiful butterfly to die so quickly.”

So she’ll turn to science

Once again using her expertise to craft some serum that she plans to keep you attached to for the rest of your not-so mortal life

She’ll use her own blood measuring and testing how little is needed to give you the best parts of being a demon

She knows the clock is ticking as your life goes on

So she’ll be excited to track you down, learning as much as she can about you

Almost as much fun as she’ll enjoy making simple humans that remind her of you as test subjects

She’d even be willing to get help from one of the Upper Moons with her hunt for you

“I hope your ready for a change, butterfly! There’s nothing I can’t do without his blood.”

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Healing together

Hii, I hope you enjoy this story. Before you begin reading, I want to make something very clear: in no way am I romanticizing mental health problems. I understand how serious these issues are, and my intention is not to glamorize or trivialize them in any way.

My goal with this story is to bring attention to mental health, to encourage understanding and empathy, and to show that these struggles are real and valid.

Lando is tired, tired of everyone being on his business, of dating rumours of him appearing every week, of comparing himself to his colleagues, or even when he is surrounded by people still feeling alone.

That's why his visits to his psychologist have risen these last months, but he feels better after them not only for the medical help he is receiving but because of them Lando feels as if he has found a source of happiness in the less expected place.

Lando walked out of his psychologist’s office, feeling a little lighter than when he’d walked in. The sessions had been tough lately, but he could feel them slowly chipping away at the heaviness weighing on him for so long. Today was no different. He had spoken about his fears, his frustrations, and the intense scrutiny he felt under the constant watch of the media and fans. His psychologist had listened intently, offering guidance and strategies to help him cope. It wasn't an immediate fix, but it helped. As he turned the corner in the narrow hallway leading to the building’s exit, he suddenly collided with someone, almost knocking them over.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed, reaching out instinctively to steady the person he’d bumped into. His hands brushed against a woman's arm, and he quickly drew back, embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” she replied with a soft smile, smoothing out the crease on her sweater. Lando noticed the sparkle in her eyes, the gentle way she carried herself. She was around his age, and there was something about her that made him pause. “I should have been paying more attention,” she continued, a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks.

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Lando said, smiling back. He felt a strange flutter in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just startled,” she laughed lightly. “I’m here for an appointment,” she added, nodding towards the door Lando had just exited.

Lando recognized her. She had been in the waiting room a few times when he arrived for his sessions. They had exchanged polite nods before, but they had never spoken. There was something about her that intrigued him—a quiet presence that seemed to draw him in, even in the brief moments they shared in passing.

“Same here. I mean, I was just here for one,” Lando responded, feeling a bit awkward but curious about her. "I'm Lando," he introduced himself, offering his hand with a friendly grin.

"I'm Y/N," she replied, shaking his hand.

Lando nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement in his chest. "Nice to officially meet you, Y/N."

From that day on, their encounters in the waiting room became a highlight of Lando's visits. They started talking more, sharing little bits about their lives. He learned that Y/N was an artist, her world filled with colours and canvases, while she learned about his passion for racing and his struggles with the spotlight. He found solace in their conversations, a break from the chaos of his life.

Between visits, Lando found himself thinking about Y/N more and more. Her laugh, her kindness, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved. She was different from anyone he had ever met, and he found himself looking forward to their brief moments together, the connection they shared growing stronger with each passing day.

One day, after a particularly challenging race weekend, Lando walked into the psychologist's office, his thoughts swirling with frustration and disappointment. But as soon as he saw Y/N sitting there, his mood lifted. She was sketching something in her notebook, her focus intense.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted, sliding into the seat next to her.

Y/N looked up, her face brightening when she saw him. "Hey, Lando. How did the race go?"

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not great, honestly. But seeing you here makes it a bit better." He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N blushed slightly, a smile tugging at her lips. "Thanks. I'm glad I can help, even if it's just a little."

Over the next few weeks, Lando's feelings for Y/N grew. He admired her strength, her resilience, and the way she approached life with a quiet courage that inspired him. And as he got to know her better, he realized he wanted to be more than just a friend to her.

It was after a particularly good race that Lando finally decided to take a leap. He had won, and the high of victory was still coursing through his veins as he walked into the psychologist's office, hoping to see Y/N.

To his delight, she was there, sitting in her usual spot, her face lighting up when she saw him. "Hey, Lando! I heard about the race. Congratulations!" she said, her excitement genuine.

"Thanks, Y/N," Lando said, his heart racing as he gathered the courage to say what he'd been thinking about for weeks. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Y/N's smile faltered slightly, her eyes flickering with a hint of apprehension. "Oh? What is it?"

Lando took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. This was it—the moment he had been building up to ever since he first met her. "I was wondering… would you like to go out with me sometime? Like, on a date?"

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, and for a long, agonizing moment, she was silent. Lando's stomach twisted, anxiety gnawing at him as he wondered if he had misread all the signs. Had he pushed too far, too fast?

Finally, Y/N spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Lando, I… I really like you, but…"

"But what?" he asked gently, his brow furrowing in concern. Her hesitation made his heart clench, his mind racing through every possible reason she might be pulling away.

Y/N looked down at her hands, her fingers nervously twisting together. Her eyes were shadowed with fear, a fear she had tried so hard to keep hidden. "I come here because… I'm scared of falling in love. I’ve been hurt before, and I don’t want to get my heart broken again. I… I didn’t expect to feel this way about anyone, especially not you."

Her confession hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of her past. Lando’s chest tightened, his heart aching for her. He could see how much it cost her to say those words, to admit to the pain that still lingered in her heart.

Lando reached out, his fingers gently brushing against hers before he took her hand, holding it tenderly in his. "I understand, Y/N," he said softly, his voice filled with empathy. "I know how it feels to be scared, to worry that opening up will just lead to more hurt. But I promise you, I would never intentionally hurt you. If you give me a chance, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never feel that way again."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears she was trying so hard to hold back. There was a wariness in her gaze, a deep-seated fear of letting herself believe in the possibility of something good, something real. "You really mean that?"

"I do," Lando replied earnestly, his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand. "I like you a lot, Y/N. More than I thought possible. And I think we could be great together. But I don’t want to rush you or push you into anything you’re not ready for."

Y/N's breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She wanted to believe him, to trust in his words and in the warmth she felt whenever he was near. But the scars of her past were still fresh, the fear of falling only to be caught by nothing but empty air still too real. She bit her lip, trying to steady herself.

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat as she tried to find the courage to let herself take this leap. Her heart pounded in her chest, torn between the desire to protect herself and the yearning to let herself hope again. As she looked into Lando's eyes, she saw the sincerity there, the raw, unguarded emotion that he had laid bare for her.

And despite the fear, despite the voice in her head screaming at her to pull back, to protect herself, she felt a spark of something else—a small, fragile spark of courage. A tiny flame of hope that maybe, just maybe, this could be something different. Something worth risking her heart for.

"Okay," she said finally, her voice trembling with the weight of her decision. She squeezed his hand, holding on to him as if he were the lifeline she needed. "I'll give it a go. But please… be patient with me. I’m scared, Lando. Really scared."

Lando's face softened, his expression one of tender understanding. "I promise, Y/N. I’ll be here, every step of the way. We’ll take it slow, as slow as you need. One step at a time, okay?"

Y/N nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek as she let herself believe, just for a moment, that maybe she didn’t have to face her fears alone. "One step at a time."

And as they sat there, hand in hand, their fingers intertwined, they both felt a surge of something new—something that was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. It wasn’t just about the promise of a date or the thrill of new romance; it was about finding comfort and courage in each other, about taking a chance on something that might just heal the wounds they both carried.

Together, they were ready to face whatever came next, one tentative, hopeful step at a time.

[b00kdiary]

I love your series with the Bat Boys and the Plus Size reader. Could I request a story where the plus-size Reader is feeling low and unpretty especially compared to the Archeron Sisters and distances herself so she doesn't burden the IC with her issues but Cassian won't let her and shows her how beautiful she is on the inside and out. And maybe they find out they are mates in the process (I hope I made sense lol and sorry for the long winded request)

Mirror, Mirror | Cassian

Cassian (ACOTAR) x Plus size reader

Y/N flees a party where it seems Cassian and Nesta can’t stay away from each other, but when Cassian comes rushing after her, more than one declaration is made and more than one secret is discovered.

A/N: I made a few adjustments to this (wherever my imagination took me) and this might be the best one I've written yet, I was literally so happy re-reading this :)

Warnings: mature themes (18 +) swearing, body-image issues, eventual smut and Cass being utterly infatuated with his thick, beautiful lady (Hint: mirror-play)

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

Nesta laughed, a wonderful, breathtaking sound and something ugly twisted in me as Cassian’s face lit up, stars twinkling in his eyes as he beheld her.

I sunk back further against the wall, into the shadows, willing them to hide me, to hide the hurt and jealousy that ate and ate and ate at me the longer I watched them.

His hand on the small of her exposed, flawless back.

The sensual curve of her pink lips as she stared up at him.

The shadows that darkened his gaze as he trailed his eyes down her perfect body, over that blood-red dress that clung to every delicate curve and lean expanse of flesh, every inch of her tan and smooth and gorgeous.

A sharp pain stabbed at my chest, directly at my heart, at the sight of them together- they looked perfect. She was everything he deserved: tall, slender body curved like sin in all the best places, and the kind of fierceness that could bring the General to his knees.

And Cassian wanted her, it was obvious, the way he looked at her, the way he laughed with her, the tension between them, it was never like that with me, he was never like that with me.

“Y/N.”

The sound of my name startles me, but I swallow my surprised gasp at the touch of shadows that dance around me, clinging to my shoulder and waist, a soft and sweet greeting and I manage the barest smile as Azriel walks over to me.

“Hey, Az,” My voice is hoarse, strained, and Azriel’s lovely face deepens into a frown at the sight of it, never one to miss any details, no matter how small, “Enjoying the party?”

“I thought I was having the least fun here, until I saw you,” Azriel’s face is contemplative, sad, and I glance down when his eyes move to Cassian and Nesta, inching closer together, “You should go talk to him, you know he wants to see you.”

“He seems perfectly content with Nesta,” I sigh, and I hate how ugly my words sound, how hollow and bitter I sound, “There’s no way I can compete.”

“There’s nothing to compete with,” Azriel furrows his brows, his shadows erratic over his shoulder and I scoff at his words, at the kindness in them, “Truly Y/N, you look lovely tonight, Cassian’s an idiot if he doesn’t see it.”

I feel heat behind my eyes, a sharp pricking sting of emotion that makes it hard to see or even swallow. I tuck my hair behind an arched ear, clearing my throat, and hating the pity in Azriel’s gaze, hating that he felt he had to compliment me just to make me feel better.

“Thanks, Az, but I think the only idiot here tonight is me,” I manage a strained laugh, and Azriel sees right through it, he sees right through me. “I’m not particularly in the partying mood tonight, I’m going to just go back to my room, and have an early night.”

“Let me escort you,” Az steps forward, his scarred hand reaching for my waist, but I stop him, smiling appreciatively, but shaking my head, those treacherous tears rushing to the surface.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” I whisper, and his face turns hard, unforgiving at the sight of my tears, those hazel eyes sharpening as he turns his head back to Cassian and Nesta. “Goodnight, Az.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

I barely hear his farewell, already stepping away and this room and the people and the music and laughter and joy all dwindle into nothing as I leave, as the tears begin to leak down my face, as my bleeding heart erupts in pain, as I slip out into the silence.

Alone.

***

“Stupid, so stupid,” I mutter roughly to myself as I slam my door shut behind me, the door clicking shut with a resounding thud, strong enough it rattled through my bones and straight to my heart.

I sniff furiously, a mixture of anger and sorrow filling me as I stumble through my room, the distant sound of music and people echoing in through the open balcony, a far cry from the still and deathly silence I was surrounded by.

I kick off my heels, flinging them messily to the side and I sigh at the feeling of the cold floor against my sore soles, at the relief from the pressure on those two thin heels, that burned with every step I took.

Stupid, so stupid to think I could put on a pair of too-high heels and be as tall and intimidating as Nesta Archeron. Stupid to think I could slip on an expensive gown and look as beautiful as she did as if it would hide the fact that my body looked nothing like hers.

I was an idiot to think that the hair and the makeup and the jewellery, that any of it would be enough to make Cassian see me, to make him want me.

“So fucking stupid,” I choke out into the silence, and this time I don’t hold back the pain, I let one tear fall and then another and another, until I can’t make them stop. I gasp on my sobs as I collapse onto my bed, my arms wrapping around me for comfort.

Alone. Utterly alone.

That thought, the reality made me cry harder until I couldn’t see or breathe, until every single atom in me shook with the sobs, until my voice bounced off the walls, ringing through the air as if mocking me.

My hands quivered as I unclasped the tear-drop diamonds from my ears, discarding them easily to the bed beside me and my lip broke as I reached behind my long hair, unhooking the diamond necklace, the stones heavily dropping to my hands.

A gift from Rhysand.

‘Cassian won’t be able to take his eyes off you, especially if you show up to his room wearing only this’  Rhysand had teased me, and like the idiot I was I giggled- giggled, and blushed like I was a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl.

Stupid.

“Y/N?” Three swift knocks against my door and I froze, “Y/N? Are you there?”

Cassian.

“Y/N,” His voice turns worried, frantic and his knocking doesn’t persist, “Are you okay, open the door for me please.”

I groan quietly, gnawing on my lip as I rise from the comfort of my bed, discarding that necklace beside the earrings, something scorched and bitter filling me at the sight of them- and when Cassian calls my name again, that feeling spreads.

I wipe the tears from my face, harsher than needed, my footsteps pattering against the flooring as I march over to the door and somehow the sadness in me has vanished, evaporated into something cold and cruel and angry.

My fingers curl around the handle and I yank the door open, my heart so loud I can hear it thundering in my ears and my face is blanketed, like a sheet of ice as I half-shield myself behind the door, unable to meet his gaze.

“Y/N,” Cassian sighs, and I hear the relief in his voice. I avoid his gaze, a pregnant pause sounding through the room as he stands there, and I see his body go stiff, “You left the party, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” I clear my throat, my hair shifting forward to hide my tears and I feel Cassian’s eyes piercing down at me, unyielding and confused, “I was just tired, I’m going to go to bed.”

“Wait, Y/N-“ His voice becomes quiet, and I pinch my eyes shut at the feeling of his eyes on me, at the worry that lingers in the air, “Have you been crying? What- what happened, are you alright-“

“I’m fine, Cassian,” I try and push the door closed, trying to force him out before I crumble again but his large hand comes to the door, halting it in place and I don’t have the energy or strength to fight him. “Please, just go, go back to the party, go back to Nesta-“

“Nesta?” He interrupts, and all amusement and joy has left his voice left his face and when I lift my eyes to him, I see them narrow, hurt flashing through them, “What does Nesta have to do with this, can I please come inside-“

“No, I don’t want you here, Cassian!” I hiss, my words sharp and lethal and honed to hurt him- and they do, I see his face fall, his breath catching at the anger on my face, the anger in my words, directed toward him, “Just go back to her, I wouldn’t want to ruin your night ahead.”

His face falls, and I see the moment realisation flashes through his eyes, and the look on his face, the pity, makes me want to die.

“Y/N, that’s not-“

“Please, Cassian, spare me,” I scoff, and I force myself to be cruel, force myself to be cold and unfeeling because otherwise the reality would consume me and I would not humiliate myself further, not in front of him. “I don’t care who you fuck, just leave me alone, I’m tired.”

I release my hold on the door, my throat unbearably tight as I turn on my heel, ripping my gaze from him, unable to take the hurt in his face, unable to see him looking at me like that- he was my friend, long before I loved him, he was my friend, and I was being so horrible to him right now.

Silence stretches on as I walk away from the door, my footsteps heavy as I move to my bed, my fingers curling around the wooden pillar, needing it for strength, needing it to keep me up.

I sighed when my door clicked shut after a moment, that light dying out and I was utterly alone again. He was gone and I was alone.

I bite my lip hard enough to pierce the flesh as fresh tears brim in my eyes and I curl into myself as they fall, my head falling against the wooden beam, and I clutch it tighter as small cries break through my lips.

“Azriel said you saw Nesta and me together at the party, saw us laughing.”

I flinch at the sound of Cassian’s voice, echoing through the room and running over my skin like a phantom touch, and I gnaw on my lip harder, pinching my eyes shut and keeping my back to him as his feet step closer to me.

“I wasn’t flirting with her, I’m not interested in her, Y/N,” Cassian’s voice was tender, and calm and it made me feel sick, “Nor does she feel that way about me.”

“I don’t care,” I grit out, tasting the saltiness of my tears seeping into my mouth, “You can do whatever you want Cassian, you don’t owe me an explanation, just-just leave me alone.”

“I was with Nesta because I was nervous, I was nervous to see you,” His words turn low, and my entire body stills at the lament, his footsteps getting closer still, “I always get nervous around you, and Nesta knew that she was teasing me about it, about how I felt-“

“Right, I’m sure with Nesta Archeron standing next to you, I’m the one who made you nervous,” I drawl sarcastically, the words tasting like poison on my tongue and again, more tears fall, “Spare me the bullshit Cassian, I don’t need your pity.”

He sighs- no, it’s more like a frustrated growl, irate and furious and a sound I’d never heard Cassian make toward me. I sniff as his footsteps bound closer and my mouth parts in a silent gasp when his hand curls around my wrist and he rips me around to face him.

“Look at me, Y/N,” His canines flash, sharp and deadly, a mirror to the darkness in his eyes as he stares down at me, his wings splaying and that handsome face turning vicious, “Just fucking look at me.”

“I don’t want your gods-forsaken pity,” I tear my wrist from his hold, and I immediately miss the warmth, miss his touch, miss him- but still, I curl my lip and I scowl up at him, “I told you I’m fine, so what do you fucking want from me?!”

“You!” He bellows and the walls shake, the syphons at his shoulder blaring bright red with power and the lament, the strength behind that single word. He shakes his head, his jaw locked and eyes blazing, “I want you- I don’t pity you, I love you.”

My face drops, the blood rushing from my cheeks and I think, no, I know that my heart has stopped dead in my chest.

“What?” I breathe and all the anger and hurt and degradation has turned to ash in my mouth, as I stare up at him, at the lovely face, soft and sincere and real. “Cassian, I don’t understand-“

“What’s there to not understand? I love you; I want you, I have for so long, Y/N,” Cassian sighs, his throat bobbing with the movement, and I inhale a sharp breath when his hand comes to my face, cupping my wet cheek, “How can you not see that?”

“B-but Nesta,” My lip trembles and Cassian’s face falls at the sight, his grip tightening and when he draws me closer to his body, to the warmth and strength of him, I don’t fight it. “You could have her o-or any other female you want- why would you want me? I’m not enough-“

“Stop, don’t say another fucking word, I won’t hear it,” Cassian growls, his eyes tapering and my eyes flutter as he runs his thumbs over my cheek, soothing, wiping away the tears that can’t seem to stop, “You’re enough, you are everything and more- you’re intelligent and fierce and elegant, you’re funny and sarcastic and kind, you are the best female I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

“But I’m not beautiful, Cassian,” I mutter and the way his eyes shatter, the way his whole face shatters at my words, it’s like I broke something in him. “I’m not beautiful like the females you’re surrounded by- I’m not tall or thin, I’m not delicate or petite, I don’t look like them.”

“Oh baby, I don’t want them, I want you,” His voice cracks as he draws himself down to me, his face inching toward mine and full of so much feeling it made me breathless, “I want all of you.”

I gasped at the feeling of his lips crashing against mine and I didn’t fight it, can’t fight it when his hands curve around to the small of my back, dragging me flush against his body.

Cassian’s lips move against mine with hunger, devouring me and tasting me in a way that has my whole body reacting, all the way down to my toes. I arch my back into him, my fingers curling into his dress shirt, nails cutting through the fabric for leverage as he slips his tongue against mine.

I taste the bittersweetness of wine in his mouth and a whimper escapes me as he laps his tongue against me, firm and sure, as if memorising the feel of me, memorising the taste of me, of every sound that slips past my lips.

“Cass-“ I huff in a harsh breath when his hands, large and ringed and rough, slip down the rolls at my back, his fingers digging in perfectly as he curls them under the curve of my ass and lifts me up into his arms. “Cass!”

My protests die out on my lips, Cassian dismissing my worried cry by pulling me into another all-consuming kiss and I can do nothing but moan, my legs wrapping around to latch onto his waist and my hands slipping around his neck.

My core burns, sensitive and aching as Cassian begins to walk, every step brushing his hard, toned stomach against me and eliciting the filthiest moan from my lips. Cassian grins, gnawing at my bottom lip, his fingers kneading against my ass with reverence as he moves us.

But not toward the bed.

I flutter my eyes open as Cassian comes to a stop and the look in his eyes, the feral delight makes my body shiver. He helps me slip down from his hold and I raise a curious brow at him as he places his hands on my waist and then spins me around.

To look in the mirror.

“Cassian,” I frown, catching my own eyes in the reflection before immediately looking away, a pit of dread opening in my stomach as I latch my eyes higher, to where he stood towering behind me. “What-“

“Do you trust me?” Cassian whispered the question, his hands running soothingly up and down my arms, the touch so bare that I craved more. “I need you to trust me, Y/N.”

“I- I do,” I swallow, my voice shaking but I steel my spine and push away any fear at the kindness in his eyes, at the male I’d known for years and trusted with my life. “Of course, I trust you.”

“Good,” He nods, and my body tightens, prickling with fear and anticipation as his fingers begin to tug at the straps on either shoulder, his eyes darkening with something filthy and heady as he stares at me through the looking glass. “Because I’m going to show you how much I love you, every inch of you.”

My breathing turns shallow and burdensome as Cassian gently tugs down each strap, his movements deliberate and slow and making every second feel as long as an hour. I don’t take my eyes off his as he runs his palms down my back, moving to the zip there.

His body is thrumming with energy as he watches me, piercing and unblinking as he tugs down the zip at the back, inch by inch, the sound of it unzipping the loudest noise in the room.

He releases a desperate whoosh of air and I catch the look in his eyes, the carnal lust in them as he slowly drags the front of my dress down. I clamp my eyes shut the second the material falls, revealing my bare aching breasts and the flesh of my stomach.

“Cauldron fucking spare me,” Cassian hisses and I don’t need to see his face to know how he’s watching me, can hear the appreciation and need in every word.

I still don’t open my eyes, can’t open my eyes as his hard body shifts behind me, his touch turning rough as he begins to yank the material down my wide hips, over my love handles and down my thick thighs until it hits the floor.

My underwear tugged down with it.

My body shakes with every inhale and exhale I take, my heart pounding as Cassian trails his fingers across my thighs, hips, and waist, over the sides of my breasts and down the length of my spine.

“Open your eyes, Y/N,” His voice is at my ear, soft, coaxing, and my back arches when his rough, calloused hands curve around me, cupping my breasts and kneading them tenderly, “Open your eyes and see how fucking perfect you look right now.”

I suck in a steadying breath, the feeling of his fingers twisting and tugging on my taut nipples distracting me and eliciting waves of sparks and embers through my body. I brace myself and before I overthink it, I open my eyes.

I come face to face with myself- utterly naked, every flaw and imperfection, every roll and stretch mark, cellulite, and bump on display. And yet Cassian was looking at me like I was the single most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

As if in his five hundred years of existence this was the closest, he had ever gotten to heaven.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” His voice quivers, emotion clogging the words and tears prick my eyes when he presses soft, loving kisses against my neck and jaw, adoring me, “I wish you knew how much I crave you.”

“Cass,” I moan, feeling his hard length pressing into my back and this time, when my eyes meet his in the mirror, I let him see how much I needed him, how much I wanted him, “Show me, Cassian.”

“Y/N,” He groans, a primitive, male sound as I rub my ass against his cock, his entire body shivering at the touch and his eyes growing heavy as I press my bareness against him, “Are you sure-“

“I’m sure,” I whisper, and Cassian’s eyes turn wholly black as I lean forward, bracing my palms against the mirror before me and spreading my legs as I press my ass back into him. I glance back up, to the feral need on his face and I smile, “Take me, Cass.”

A low, terrifying grumble reverberates from him, from somewhere dark and unsatiated inside him and my core throbs when he cements himself to my back, turning my head to capture my lips in his and he tastes me like he’s addicted.

I pant as he plants one of his hands beside mine on the mirror, our fingers interweaving and the sound of him unlacing his breeches, his fingers tugging and yanking and ripping at the material makes me clench with anticipation.

“Are you ready- I don’t want to hurt you,” His face buries into my neck, biting and suckling on the flesh but I hear the concern in his voice. I grab his free hand from behind me, bringing it down between my thighs and he moans as I drag his fingers through my wetness, messy and leaking.

“I’m so ready, Cass,” I plead, my nails digging into his arm as he pulls his cock free from his trousers my eyes meet his through the mirror and he smiles at the desperate pout I wear, “Please, please-“

His head runs up and down my folds, collecting the wetness and when he stills at my entrance, teasing my hole, I go weak at the size of him.

“How could I ever deny you, baby?” He hisses in my ear, his fingers curling around mine against the mirror and a roguish smile stretching across his face- one that promised to ruin me.

“Cassian!”

He shoved his cock into me, hard and fast and unforgiving and the shriek that escapes me echoes through the whole building as he sheaths himself all the way, forcing me to take it.

I choke on my cries as Cassian moves his hand to my hips, his fingers holding onto the flesh for leverage as he drags his thick, pulsing length out of me, the stretch so far and wide that it hurt more than I ever knew it could.

But then he snapped his hips forward, stuffing it all back in and I moaned, my body wrecking with the intensity of it, with the intensity of him.

“Fuck you’re so tight, baby,” Cassian gritted out, nudging my thighs apart with his knee and pressing a hand down onto my lower back so that I was leaning forward, my face inches from the mirror and his cock slipping in so deep. “So fucking tight.”

“Cassian, oh- Cauldron-“

My tits bounced and my thighs shook as he fucked into me, his pace brutal and merciless, pounding me hard and deep, my pussy sucking him in and clenching, my eyes rolling at the mixture of pleasure and pain that throbbed through my core.

He didn’t give me any time to adjust, didn’t give me time to get used to the size of him- and I fucking loved it.

“Does that feel good?” He muttered, fingers curling into my hair and yanking my head back so that my eyes met his in the mirror and I whimpered at the pressure on my scalp, at the sound of my wetness and his skin slapping mine as he slammed his hips to meet my ass again and again.

“S-so good,” I blubbered, my words slugging together as I watched his face tighten, watching him sweating and panting and grunting, those dark eyes sliding between our bodies, watching his dick slide in and out, coated in my juices. “Don’t stop, don’t stop- please, please-”

He snarls, the sound animalistic and the electricity in my core intensifies when Cassian’s hand releases my hair, his hand slipping around to grip my throat and the angle shifts as he brings me back to his chest, our sweating bodies melting together, his fingers around my neck tight as he keeps me there.

“Look at yourself, baby,” He croons, his voice like sin as he nibbles against my cheek and I cry out when he drives into my pussy faster, his eyes watching every reaction, every movement through the mirror and it drives him on. “See how fucking perfect you look, taking my cock like it was made for you.”

“Cass, Cass,” His name is a prayer on my lips, the head of his cock slamming against a point in me, deep and untouched, a point that has every nerve ending setting alight and he laughs, like claws running down my spine, delighted at how close I was.

“So beautiful,” His fingers tighten around my throat and my eyes flutter open, latching onto the sight of us in the mirror, his body against mine, the sweat coating my skin and the absolute adoration in his eyes, “See how beautiful you look? Say it baby, say you’re beautiful.”

A command, a raw and final command.

“I’m-oh,” My head tilts back against his shoulder, my back arching as Cassian’s hand slips between my thighs and he begins rubbing brashly at my clit, fast and messy and forceful, and my knees start to quake. “Cassian, I can’t I’m- I’m-“

“No, no- You can’t come until you say it,” He growls, and I mewl when his fingers circle harder, his hips driving into me so perfectly that I can feel how red and bruised my ass is getting. “Say you’re- shit- say you're beautiful, say it, baby-“  

Every word is emphasised with a snap of his hips, again and again, and the sound of him panting and moaning in my ears, his fingers ruining my clit it’s too much.

“I’m beautiful,” I moan, tears trickling down my cheeks at the tautness of my body, that bubble in my core starting to expand and expand and it hurts so good, “I’m beautiful, fuck-fuck-“

“Come, baby, come,” Cassian chuckles, dark and sinful and when my body gives out, his arm wraps around me, keeping me up and fucking me so good, sliding against my walls and ripping apart any control I had, “Make a mess of my cock for me.”

“Cass- Cass- Cassian!”

He hits that spot again and again and again, not stopping, not giving me even a second to breathe and that bubble bursts, explodes, and all I can do is chant his name over and over as releases rocks through me.

“Shit, Y/N,” Cassian curses, and my stomach clenches and unclenches, moans falling endlessly from my lips as I come, wrapping around Cassian painfully tight, and I know he’s close, know he’s barely hanging on.

I pant, damn near hyperventilating as my orgasm shatters me and my body starts to ache and burn as Cassian chases his high, his hips stuttering and his body hard against mine, curses falling from his lips as I clamp down around him, again and again.

“Shit, baby,” Cassian groans, eyes clamping shut and I watch through the mirror, enchanted as his fingers curl into my hips, his head falling to the crook of my neck as his body goes utterly still and he releases inside me.

The sound he makes, that devastating rumble of power that emits from him, is muffled into my neck and I whimper as his hips come to a jagged halt, the feeling of his warm come spreading through me making my head spin.

I can’t look away from him, not as he clutches onto me like a lifeline, canines scraping against my neck and his wings arching up high and spread wide, trembling with the aftermath of his orgasm.

“Fuck,” Cassian pants, the both of us sagging forward with exhaustion, and as he slowly slips out of me, he groans at the sight of his seed leaking out from me and down my soft thighs. “Fuck Y/N.”

I suck in greedy gulps of air as I lift my head, my heart pounding in my chest and a sense of clarity wrecking through me, waves of release fading into oblivion and the silence settling around us. Cassian smiles, tenderly, as I meet his gaze in the mirror.

But then something happens.

I freeze, my body jolting the second my eyes meet his, the second I see those hazel orbs and melt into their serenity, into their comfort.

Something clicks into place.

“Y/N?” Cassian’s worried voice greets me, pushing through the haze and fog and disorientation and I feel his hands pushing back my hair, trying to gain my attention, “Y/N, baby, what’s wrong?”

Tears burn my eyes, strong and overwhelming and maddening and when my eyes lift, when I see Cassian through the looking glass, his face pales in worry.

“What’s wrong-“

“You’re my mate.”

He stills, his entire body stills, and I release a shaking, astounded sob. Cassian doesn’t speak, doesn’t breathe as I turn on my weak legs, finally face to face with him.

“You’re my mate, Cassian,” I choke out, half-laughing, half-sobbing and my hands shake as I bring them up to his beautiful face, watching him melt into my embrace, “My mate.”

“It only took you fifty years to realise,” Cassian muttered, tears brimming in his eyes and my mouth went slack at his words, at the broken teasing in them, “Made me wait long enough I think.”

“You-you knew?” I gasp and Cassian’s hands fall to my waist, drawing me closer and the feel of his hands, his touch, ignites something raw and dangerous in me. “How-“

“I knew the very day we met,” He whispers, voice hoarse and lip trembling and more tears leak down my cheeks at the sight, at his words, “I knew you were my mate from the second I saw you, and I have loved you in silence every day since.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I croak out, my fingers curling around his cheek- I wasn’t angry but it hurt, my heart hurt for him, for the years he spent knowing and being able to do nothing.

“I wanted you to realise on your own,” Cassian says, and something breaks in my chest at the tear that streaks down his face, sinking into my hand, “I wanted you to be ready for me, for us.”

“Cassian, I love you, I have loved you from the first moment you smiled at me, from the first moment you spoke to me, from the first moment you looked at me,” I smile, rising onto my tiptoes and pressing the softest kiss to his lips.

Sparks. Utter sparks.

“I have always loved you,” I laugh as his hands cascade down my back, curling around my ass and this time, when he lifts me with ease, I wrap my arms around him, hooking my legs and bringing his face close to mine. “My Mate.”

“I’ve prayed to hear you say those words,” He muttered against my lips, his eyes fluttering at the tender touch, and I sighed as we pressed our foreheads together. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Cassian.”

____________

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

Comment to be added to the tag-list >3

[itstheoneshot]

Two For One

Summary: Why have just one when you could have both?

Word Count: 8.6k

Pairing: Ricky x Gyuvin x Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Marking/Biting Kink, Size Kink, Possessiveness, Ownership Kink, Daddy Kink, Threesome

Bouncing on your heels, you wait at the front door of your friends’ apartment after knocking only a minute ago. You have arrived later than you had planned, and momentarily feel anxious that he may have forgotten your pre-organised visit. You raise your hand to knock again, but just before your fist hits the hardwood, the door swings open and you are greeted with the most breathtaking smile.

“Hi, doll!” Gyuvin smiles, that nickname drives you mental, “I wasn’t expecting you!”

Kim Gyuvin. You are friends with him too, but it wasn’t him that you were planning to visit, but his roommate.

“Gyuvin-oppa,” You beam back at him, “I’d come to see Ricky-gē, is he here?”

Gyuvin rolls his eyes at you, playfully laughing it off with a jokingly toned “What, are you not happy to see me?”

You stare at him with your cutest pout and scowl combination, knowing how easily he folds when you put it on, and that he does, as expected.

“Ricky had a last minute schedule,” Gyuvin explains, as he steps back to allow you space to enter the apartment, “He will be back in a couple of hours if you wanted to wait? I was just about to put on a movie.”

You simply smile with a nod, bowing your head slightly as you follow him inside, “That sounds nice,” You hum, “What were you going to watch?”

Gyuvin grins at you cheekily, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his head tilted slightly to the left, and you suddenly fear what you have set yourself up for. It better not be some rom-com, Gyuvin knows that you hate those, or at least, hate watching them with other people because you don’t want them to see you cry. 

“Just some found-footage horror I saw while scrolling Netflix,” He replies, “Are you in?”

It has been too long since you watched a horror, they don’t particularly shake you, in the sense of thinking about them afterward, losing sleep etc, but you are easy to jump, quick to frighten, and you already anticipate how much Gyuvin is going to tease you for it the entire film.

“Of course,” You reply defiantly, “I’m not afraid.”

Gyuvin laughs as he closes the door behind you, taking his arm over your shoulders, he leads you down the hall towards his bedroom. It is not the first time that you two have watched something together, just the two of you, having been friends for a while now, it isn’t weird or uncomfortable to either of you, to get comfortable in his bed, sitting up with your backs against the wall, waiting for the opening credits to begin.

Barely ten minutes in, and a sudden jump has you screaming in fright, and sends Gyuvin into a fit of laughter, as you instinctively curl into him to protect yourself from the demon in the movie. Although he laughs, Gyuvin holds you close to him, his warmth reminding you that there is nothing to be afraid of. You breathe him in for a moment before lifting your head to watch the movie again, but this time you don’t move away from your position in his arms.

Your relationship with Gyuvin is strange, but not dissimilar to yours with Ricky too. Nothing has ever happened between you, but there has always been an inkling of desire, an unspoken, un… acted upon, attraction. You are reminded of this as you cuddle up close to him, but you don’t say a word, pretending to ignore the way that your heartbeat speeds up as your head rests against his shoulder.

“Are you sure you aren’t too scared?” He teases you, ten minutes later when you scream again, this time burying your face in his chest, “Do you want me to turn it off?”

You shake your head, but don’t look up at first, not until he lifts your chin with two fingers, forcing you to make eye contact. No longer afraid, the second that you look into his eyes, but your heart races for a whole other reason.

Before you have a chance to speak, he kisses you, and you kiss him back as if it were second nature. Desire burns in you, as his stupidly large and masculine hand cups your cheek, the other holds you by the waist, fingertips digging in hard enough to make you gasp, giving him the freedom to taste you, his tongue practically half-way down your throat. It is messy, hot, and desperate, your fingers tangling in his hair as you try to get even closer.

He guides you onto your back, and you are suddenly reminded of just how much bigger he is than you, as he fits between your legs, and you cross your ankles behind his knees.

“Babydoll,” He murmurs breathlessly, leaning back just to look at you, “You’re just so little.”

You realise from his tone, and from the darkness in his eyes that you have never seen before, that he likes that, a lot, and so do you. You feel powerless in a way that sends heat surging to your core, a pathetic whimper escaping you instead of words, as he leans down to kiss you again. This time is even hotter, the hand on your cheek now moves to your throat, and the one on your waist is now under your shirt. The skirt you are wearing has ridden up, your legs fully exposed, wrapped tightly around him as he grinds into you.

He pulls you up by your neck, to the point that you can’t breathe, but he lets go so that he can pull your shirt up over your head, and allows you to take his top off too. You don’t have time to think about whether you have seen him shirtless before, but if you had, it was never this close up, and holy fuck, he is unreal. His proportions are insane, so tall, lean and lanky, your hands are all over him as he pushes you down again and he leans in to kiss your neck.

You throw your head back into the pillow, arching your spine with a pitiful moan as he bites down, right up close to your ear. Your nails drag down his back as he makes quick work to mark you, leaving bright red indents all the way down to your shoulder, and slowly across your chest. He slips a hand under you, unfastening your bra with nimble fingers, pulling the item off you so that he can then focus attention on your breasts. His hands dwarf every part of you, and it is driving you both crazy.

“Oppa~” You cry as he sucks a mark onto your breast, “Fuck… more, I want more.”

Gyuvin chuckles before sinking his teeth into you again, “Patience, doll… you’ll get your fix, I promise.”

You whine, whimper and moan as he makes a mess of you, until he too can’t take anymore, the bulge in his pants too much to handle, and from the outline alone, you wonder if it will be too much for you, too.

Gyuvin catches you staring, and he moves up so that you can feel his hardness against your inner thigh, it is enough to get you dripping.

“You’re so big, oppa,” You pout at him, eyes wide and innocent, “Are you going to break me?”

He bites his lip, momentarily trying to hold himself back, though the temptation is too strong, you have him so close without doing anything more than putting on a little aegyo. Gyuvin is almost embarrassed about how badly you have him worked up, but when he reaches down to remove your skirt and panties and sees just how fucking wet you are, that feeling completely disappears.

“I fear I might, babydoll,” He smirks as he leans back to pull his pants down, his underwear coming off with it, “I will at least try to be gentle.”

Your jaw drops when you see what you are up against. His cock is bigger than any you have seen, thick and veiny, the length damn near comparative to your forearm, and your mouth salivates at the sight. It is going to hurt, of that you are most certain, but you want it, more than anything right now.

Both fully naked, the make out session grows hotter, with Gyuvin’s hand between your legs, toying at your entrance, the tips of his fingers slicked and he hasn’t even entered you yet.

“Already so wet?” He teases, “You make this so easy for me.”

You haven’t processed the implication of his words before he enters you with both his middle and index fingers. Long, slender, and he curves them at just the right angle to have you cry out. You grip tightly to him, whining into the kiss as you get used to the initial stretch, trying to prepare you for what is to come when his cock will be inside of you instead.

“You just turn me on so much, oppa,” You mumble when he pulls back to stare at you, scissoring his fingers to get you wetter, “Covered in your marks, so little under you, do you like it too?”

Your words awaken something in him, an animalistic demeanour that has him pull his fingers out of you, only to thrust straight in with his cock instead, as deep as he can fit, hitting your cervix and causing you to scream.

He holds still for a moment, your breathing is staggered as he leans back again to take in the sight of you, tears in your eyes as you beg your body to adjust to the sheer size of him. You have definitely never taken a cock this big, and when you glance down you see that there is still so much of him that hasn’t even entered you.

“Breathe for me, little one,” He soothes you, gently caressing your lower stomach, your hips, and down to your thighs, “Relax, it’s okay.”

You nod, gulping before you try to steady your breathing, assuring yourself that it feels good to be filled like this, although you can’t really think straight. He pulls out slowly, before thrusting into you again, and this time you see stars as he fills you up once more, his gaze never leaving yours, inspecting you, making sure that you are okay, and that you know he is holding back.

“Harder, oppa,” You whine, impatient and needy despite the burning sting, “You don’t have to be so gentle.”

He moans low in his chest as he finds a steady rhythm, one hand on your shoulder to hold you still as each thrust threatens to push you further up the bed, his other hand is balled in a fist in your hair at the base of your scalp. He leans down to kiss you again, biting at your bottom lip as your moans escalate in volume and intensity.

Gyuvin kisses along your jawline, and tugs your hair to tilt your head back to give him access to your neck. He begins marking you again, feverishly claiming and defiling you, as he continues to fuck you with a desire that is almost indescribable. 

You are malleable for him, so easy to manoeuvre, he rolls over onto his back, and brings you up on top of him. He doesn’t pull out for a second, keeping you full, and him deep, as he thrusts in from under you, and you press your forehead to his as pleasure washes over you with your first orgasm, coming swiftly and without warning, you shake in his arms, cunt clenching as his moans get louder to match.

“God, just look at you,” He groans, guiding you to sit up, knees either side of his hips, “Such a good little fuck toy, so much fun to play with.”

He moves his hands to your hips to keep you stable, and finds he can reach around completely to touch his fingertips together, his hands splayed across you only feeding into his kink further. He helps you bounce on his cock, your breath catching in your throat with strangled moans each time that you take him in, and Gyuvin stares intently at the inches of his cock that don’t fit even when you can’t go down anymore.

“Feels so good,” You stutter, “You’re so strong, oppa, love it when you fuck me like this, do you like it too?”

You rest your hands on his shoulders, leaning forward a bit so that you can ride him better. This new angle has your legs shaking almost instantly, orgasm nearing much faster than you had expected. Your eyes well with tears as you try to hold it back, wanting to wait until Gyuvin is ready this time, wanting to cum when he does.

“I love it, babydoll,” He replies, “I’m close, are you going to cum again for me, too?”

Nodding furiously, your body begins to seize, answering for you without words. Your orgasm tears through you with twice the intensity of the last, as Gyuvin fucks you harder through it, though his rhythm falters as his cock twitches, his own release following just moments after yours. He fills you with his seed, the warm sensation noticeable as the last few thrusts have him leaking out of you, too full to take in anymore. 

As he slows down, you collapse forward so that your head rests on his chest up by his collarbone. Your breathing is heavy and laboured, your head spinning as you try to calm down after the most intense sex you have had since you can remember. Gyuvin kisses your forehead, carding his fingers through your messy hair as he too tries to catch his breath, though he is not quite ready to pull out just yet.

“Holy shit,” He breathes, “That was incredible.”

You look up at him, eyes glassy, glazed over with the remnants of the orgasm euphoria, “So fucking good.”

Gyuvin gently guides you off him, chuckling as you whimper at the loss, suddenly feeling barren and empty without his giant cock plugging you up. You feel his cum dripping from you, but couldn’t care less about making a mess of his bed, that is the least of your worries.

“I need to shower,” He sighs, “I have to leave… like really soon, for my own schedule.”

You are reminded in that moment, of why you were there in the first place. To see Ricky, who is currently out, but surely will return soon, and you are thankful that he didn’t come home any earlier. 

Gyuvin kisses you again before he gets up, and you roll over onto your back, splayed out on the bed as you listen to the water running in the shower in the next room. You wait a few minutes before getting up too, and you gather your clothes before heading to the main bathroom down the hall. You feel his cum dripping down your legs, and it makes you whimper, speeding your steps up to make it to the bathroom without leaving a mess behind.

You clean yourself to the best of your ability, but your hair is still a mess, at least to your usual standard, and the hickeys on your neck are still visible despite every attempt to cover them. You leave the bathroom just as Gyuvin walks out into the hall, striding up to you in only a few steps, with those crazy-long legs of his. He wraps his arms over your shoulders and pulls you close to him, kissing you on the forehead once before letting you go.

“That was fun,” He chuckles, “I’ve gotta go, but I might still see you when I get back?”

You giggle at the implication, unsurprised that he is insatiable, “I’ll see you then.”

You walk with Gyuvin to the door to see him off, before retreating to the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. It won’t be long now until Ricky is back, and you start to feel a little nervous. You aren’t sure that you want him to know that you just had sex with Gyuvin, but you can’t quite pinpoint just one reason as to why that is.

——————

Leaning back against the kitchen counter for some time, you hear the front door open, and giggle to yourself as you picture the two men passing each other on the road as one leaves and the other returns.

“Gēgē!” You call out, your voice whiny and cute just for him as you leave the kitchen and head out to the hallway, “I missed you!”

Ricky rolls his eyes, but quickly joins you, picking you up off the floor and spinning you around before placing you back down onto your feet. You gaze up at him, admiring his features, happy to be with him again. It’s not like you haven’t spoken, but a few weeks have passed since you saw him in the flesh, and you are usually inseparable best friends, so this is nice.

“I missed you, xiaomei,” He replies, his voice deep and sultry, hoarse from what you assume must have been a singing schedule, “Come around more often, okay? Don’t make me wait so long.”

“I’m sorry,” You pout at him as he tucks your hair behind your ear, “Work has been crazy, our schedules always clash.”

Ricky’s gaze narrows in, and you instantly realise what he is seeing. Red marks litter your neck, and you quickly try to readjust your hair to hide it.

“What do you want to do?” You ask in an attempt to distract him, “You’re surely tired, right?”

“A little,” He replies, as he links his arm with yours, “Should we go back to watching that weird anime we started last time you were here?”

You walk together to his bedroom, with you leaning into him a little for support, emotional more than physical, though it is a little hard to walk. Ricky puts the pillows up against the wall and gestures to you to join him while he turns the TV on and scrolls through a couple of menu screens before finding the show that you had begun to watch a little while back. 

Tucked under his arm, you make yourself comfortable as the opening credits roll. You rest your hand on his chest as he absentmindedly plays with your hair. It’s nice like this, but you find your thoughts drifting to where you were only an hour or so ago. Ricky’s hands, even bigger than Gyuvin’s, are making you feel a way that you have not felt for him before, but you try to keep your cool, you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, nothing has ever happened between you, and you don’t know whether he would even want to anyway.

You glance up at him to see that he is already staring at you, and that feeling in the pit of your stomach stirs as a result of how piercing his gaze is.

“Everything okay, gē?” You ask him, “You’re not watching?”

Ricky takes a moment to respond, and you become hyper aware of your neck, the fact that he has brushed your hair off it, leaving the skin, and all the marks you so recently obtained, exposed.

“What did you do with Gyuvin?” He asks, his tone is neutral, but you know him well enough to understand the meaning, “You were here a while with him, correct?”

You begin to fluster, you are an awful liar, and you don’t want to lie to your best friend. You also worry about judgement, you don’t want him to think badly of you for what you consensually did.

“I… we… um,” You stutter, confidence falling as you know there is no way out of this, “We… watched a movie.”

You don’t convince him, that is obvious with the way that his fingers trail down your cheek and to your neck, fingertips grazing over the hickey closest to your ear, and then further down. Your skin raises in tiny goosebumps, and you feel your cheeks burning red, flushed and embarrassed to be caught out this way.

“He fucked you, didn’t he?” Ricky presses for an answer, “Don’t lie to me.”

This should be the time for you to stand up for yourself, because you can do what you want, or who you want, but the way that Ricky continues to stare has you backing down so damn easy.

“I mean…” You start, but falter again, “We did, but…”

Ricky draws in a breath sharply, his hand stopping at your shoulder, grip slowly closing to keep you there, although you had not tried to escape, nor were you really planning to. You watch as he processes the concept of you and his roommate, his other best friend, having sex, and you fear for the worst.

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” He replies, “But you should know better.”

His answer confuses you, and it is written all over your face, so you reply, “Know better about what?”

Ricky smirks just slightly, his eyes darkening before he opens his mouth, “You’re mine, kitten, and I don’t want to share.”

Your jaw drops, unsure if you heard him right, and so very stuck on the name that he called you. Kitten. The way that it makes you feel has your eyes glazing over, way ahead of yourself without even being certain that Ricky is insinuating what you hope for.

“Am I?” You ask innocently, sure that this will give you the answer you are searching for, “I didn’t know, you haven’t made me yours yet, have you?”

He moves closer to you, as if there was much space between you in the first place. You feel his breath, hot on your lips and it sends you spiralling.

“All mine,” He tells you, his tone darker than before, threatening, “I’m gonna make sure that you don’t forget it either.”

Your breath hitches as he kisses you, his kisses are harder, much more charged than Gyuvin’s were, though by the second kiss you stop comparing, your entire being now completely focused on and taken over by Ricky instead.

You are powerless under his hold, body moulding to him effortlessly, already so used to being close, and finding it even easier to be closer. He may well be the best kisser you have ever kissed, your entire body reacting as he licks into your mouth, fuck, you already want more.

His hand instinctively finds its way to your throat, gripping with light pressure in more of a warning than anything else, reminding you not to fight back or try to flee, as your fingers tangle in his hair and you wrap a leg over his.

“I’m sorry,” You mumble, as he nips your bottom lip and your mouth falls open, “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

He pulls you on top of him, his stare burning deep into your soul, “I’m sure you will, kitten,” He replies, “I know you’ll be good for me, as long as you do what I say.”

You involuntarily whimper as he tugs you down to kiss him again, his hand remaining clasped around your neck, keeping your breathing shallow as he kisses you over and over again. Your hands trail down his chest, feeling his muscles, lean, but defined, clear evidence of how well looked after he is. It’s hot, the tension between you is too much to bear, you are falling and fast.

“I’ll be good,” You manage to choke out, as Ricky’s free hand starts to tug your shirt upwards, “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Ricky smirks at you, and you wonder whether you are going to regret giving him that freedom. You don’t have long to ponder this though, as he lets go of your throat, allowing you to breathe in deeper.

“Strip for me,” He orders, putting his hands behind his head, “I want to see all of you, and then you can undress me too.”

You feel self-conscious, though Ricky has seen you in your swimwear before, fully naked is a whole new level. You feel inferior in comparison to him, his visuals are so breathtaking, though by the way that he looks at you, it is clear that he thinks the world of you too.

To begin undressing you sit back on your knees and slowly pull your shirt up over your head, maintaining eye contact as much as you can. It feels so impure, removing each item of clothing until you are totally bare, marks littering your skin from the encounter you had earlier, and holy fuck you can tell how much Ricky doesn’t like that.

“Gēgē,” You whine, as he holds your wrists to stop you from covering yourself up, “Want to see you too…”

He moves to sit up himself, though you are resting on his thighs, and he directs your hands to take the hem of his shirt, fists balling in the material before you tug upwards, revealing that sculpted chest of his, skin like porcelain, not a single mark or blemish to be found other than a few tiny little moles, each like the lucky stars that you see in the sky living in the city, rare but existent, and so very special.

“Is that better, kitten?” He teases you, catching you staring, “I’m still half-dressed.”

You catch the indication behind his words, and shuffle back to give yourself room to work at his jeans, fingers nimble and quick with the button and fly, grateful as he lifts his hips up for you to tear the denim down his long legs. Now in only black Versace underwear, you feel inferior again, although your black lace set is nice, it is definitely not designer.

“Much better, gē,” You nod, “You’re so…”

Trailing off as you scan his body, well aware of how much he enjoys being praised, having no problems with admiring him, it is so easy when he just looks like that.

“Handsome?” He chuckles, as he pulls you down to kiss him again, fingers knotted in your hair.

“Fēicháng shuài,” You reply, with the limited Mandarin that you have picked up from his incessant need to teach you, repeating it again in English, “So handsome.”

His free hand snakes around to your back, effortlessly unclasping your bra with two fingers, fuck that was hot, before pulling it from you, and proceeding to grab at your chest instead. You moan into his mouth, hot and heavy as you feel him begin to harden under you, shit, are you wet already too?

“Pay attention to only me,” He murmurs, pinching one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger, “I don’t want you looking at anyone else.”

He grinds up into you, yep, you’re definitely wet, and you gasp at how worked up he has you, “I won’t, gē,” You obey him, “Only you, I promise, only you.”

You cry out in shock as he quickly flips you over onto your back, climbing on top of you, he pauses momentarily to tear your panties down, “I don’t want to wait,” He purrs, “I need to claim you.”

His erection is so obvious to you now, thick and long, even through his black underwear the veins are evident, Jesus, is there anything about him that isn’t perfect? You watch in awe as he tugs his own briefs down, giving you a much better view of the cock that will be inside you in the coming moments. Not quite as thick as Gyuvin’s, but his length definitely competes, his cock curves just slightly upwards, and your eyes roll back a little as you begin to imagine just where he will hit you inside.

Before you get too far ahead of yourself, Ricky leans in to kiss your neck, biting gently at the marks left behind by his friend, deep guttural growls escape him as he is constantly reminded that you were taken by someone else. You try to reach for his cock, but you can’t get close enough, as he moves down your body, kissing your breasts, moaning over your sensitive nipples as one hand grazes over your core. You are a whimpering mess as he continues downwards, and you become aware of what he is going to do, his mouth closer and closer with each kiss to where you so desperately need it.

He starts with small licks, getting a taste for you, teasing and tantalisingly slow before diving right in. He uses his hands to hold your legs apart as they threaten to close around his head, the pleasure so intense, so quickly. It feels so fucking good, he eats you out with an ease that has you reeling, all the while still staring you down, wanting to know that you are enjoying it, as if the screams of his name aren’t enough evidence. Your back arches prettily, and he moves his hands under your ass to hold you up, the angle easier for him, and so much better for you. Sweat begins to bead on your forehead, your orgasm nearing so much faster than you had expected.

“Fuck,” You moan, your voice is strangled, choked up, “So good, holy shit that feels so fucking good.”

Ricky chuckles, and the vibrations shoot through your entire body, you don’t often curse, at least not so many times in a single sentence which Ricky finds comedic, and he pulls away for a second only to ask you, “You like it when Daddy goes down on you, don’t you kitten?”

Fuck. As if this could have been any hotter. Of course he could read your mind and go straight for the kink that has you worse than any other.

“Yes, Daddy,” You cry without missing a beat, so easily calling him the name that he so proudly gave himself, “I love it, you’re so incredible.”

Ricky hums approvingly before lowering his head, your orgasm mere seconds away, going, going, and you release with another flick of his tongue over your clit, he then moves down to lap at your arousal, not wanting to leave anything behind. You try not to pull too hard on his perfectly bleached blonde hair, but at this point it is so messy, you know that he wouldn’t care. A steady rhythmic chant of daddy, daddy, daddy leaves your lips as he only slows down when you try to pull away.

He looks up at you with glazed-over eyes and a desperation that you can’t quite comprehend. Ricky doesn’t waste a moment, moving up to kiss you, his tongue in your mouth so that you can taste yourself on him. You must seem so pathetic, with the way that you grind up into him, nails dragging up his back as you feel his cock almost at your entrance, god, you want him now.

“Daddy, please,” You whine, all but kicking your feet in impatience, this level of subspace is new to you, but Ricky seems to love it, “Fuck me, Daddy, I need you, please?”

You feel like you could burst into tears at any moment, and you are sure that Ricky can tell, as you feel him teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock, and without warning he enters you in one swift thrust. Your moans mix beautifully, Ricky’s deep and breathy, yours high-pitched and much louder, his cock stretching you out has you clinging onto him for dear life.

“Oh, kitten,” Ricky purrs, finding his rhythm so easily, thrusting into you with force, “You were made for me, weren’t you? You take my cock so perfectly.”

His gaze narrows as he awaits your answer, though there is only one that is correct, it is getting increasingly harder to find your words as the cock-drunk state you are in only becomes more apparent.

“Yes, Daddy,” You babble, your words beginning to slur, as the curvature of his cock means that with each thrust he hits the nerves inside you that have you threatening to go over the edge again, “Made for you, owned by you, only Daddy forever and ever.”

The commitment falls from your lips so easily, a promise required by the man hovering over you, one that makes him happier than he can express. He leans down to kiss you more, holding you still with fingers tangled in your now so messy hair, his pace is fast but purposeful, you feel each individual thrust with the care and poise that he means for it to.

“My kitten,” He coos, nuzzling his nose into your neck, breathing in your scent right up by your ear, “I want you to see how good you look like this.”

You aren’t quite sure what he means by this, until he pulls out of you and drags you up into a new position. Turning around, he has you face the mirrored wardrobe on the opposite wall and moves behind you, before tugging you up by your hair so that your back is against his chest. You look dazed, fucked out and cock-drunk, barely able to stay upright if it were not for his tight grip on your hair and your waist, you smile lazily at him and he lets out a deep, animalistic growl from the back of this throat.

“My Daddy,” You giggle, trying your utmost to make sense, but distracted by the feeling of his hardness against your lower back, “So sexy, want your cock again.”

Ricky releases his fingers from your hair, his hand moving around to your throat, and then upwards to cup your jawline. With his index and middle finger, he presses against your bottom lip, demanding entry. Of course you obey, willing to do whatever he asks of you, and he pulls your jaw down, sticking his fingers down your throat far enough to make your eyes water.

“Such a perfect little slut, aren’t you?” He asks, chuckling at the sound you make when he degrades you, “So desperate for Daddy, just the way he likes it.”

You wiggle your butt back into him, unable to move much more than that with the pressure he holds you to him, you hope that by being the whimpering, whiny mess that he has made you, he will give in. Your eyes well up with tears and not just from Ricky making you gag, but with a desire for him to fill you again, losing your mind from how long he has kept you empty. 

He moves his hand from your waist, down to your core, his fingers grazing over your swollen clit sending shivers through your body. The whine that you emit is pathetic, pitiful, and god, does it turn him on. You spread your legs further, pressing back into him in an attempt to make your neediness even more obvious, and you are grateful when he finally obliges, pulling his fingers from your mouth to take his cock into his hand instead.

Ricky lines himself up with you after a moment of adjustment, and you watch in the reflection as he enters you again. The new angle is better than before, he hits you deeper, as if you could take any more, and the angle of his cock nudges against those nerves that have your body shaking with each and every thrust.

He holds you up with an arm over your chest, fucking into you with little care for your own sensitivity, this is about him in this moment, but in that, it is so much for you too.

“Kitten,” Ricky moans, as you clench to him with yet another orgasm, losing count now as with each descent another peak rolls through, “Daddy’s close, where do you want it?”

Your tongue is tied, so flushed and flustered it takes a moment to register, while Ricky doesn’t slow down at all, you need to think fast but your brain is mush, “In me, Daddy,” You cry, “Fill me, need it.”

Ricky pushes you forward, keeping your ass up, and he grabs your hair to lift your head so you can see the perfect arched angle he has you in as his rhythm begins to falter. He lasts not even another 30 seconds like this, before he groans with his release into you, warmth spreading inside you as he cums so much you swear it overflows, though mixed with your own arousal, you can’t quite tell what is what anymore.

He roughly pulls out of you, flipping you onto your back as you cry out in sensitivity and from the loss, but your cries are quieted as Ricky kisses you, with as much force and want as that first kiss not so long ago. You feel his cum leaking out of you, making a mess of his pristine black sheets, though neither of you mind it.

“Mine, kitten,” He murmurs breathlessly, pressing his forehead to yours and staring at you with that piercing gaze, a warning, “I’m keeping you, you’re all mine.”

A confession. One that you hadn’t expected, and one that you don’t quite understand. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you wonder whether you were holding back feelings for him all along. Your hands roam his body, memorising every curve and rivet, the way that his hips jut out and leave that delicious v-line that leads to his even more delectable cock. He is perfect, and he is yours as much as you are his.

“You mean it?” You ask him, “I’m really yours?”

It’s vulnerable, your uncertainty is clear in your tone, leaving you open to either become whole, or to be completely broken.

“You are,” Ricky responds, “As long as you want to be, your heart is mine.”

He kisses you again before you can respond, and you lose track of time like that, in his arms, feeling his body pressed to yours, limbs tangled, intertwined.

——————

Neither of you hear as the front door opens, too distracted by the growing desire between you, Ricky half-hard again, and you dripping wet. It isn’t until Ricky’s bedroom door opens that you realise Gyuvin has returned, when he shouts at the sight he sees, and you rush to cover yourself, though Ricky does not care.

“Home already, Gyuvin-ah?” Ricky smirks at his friend from behind you, his hands still roaming your body, finding your right breast to squeeze it in his palm, “Can’t you see we are busy?”

Gyuvin’s stare moves between the two of you, his mouth parted slightly as he tries to find his words. You are flustered, flushed, and sinfully turned on as Gyuvin watches Ricky touch you. A moan leaves your lips as Ricky pinches your nipple roughly, red and raw from the abuse he has inflicted on them, god, this is hot.

“I… but we,” Gyuvin stammers, and you can see how hard he is trying to show confidence, “I was hoping to go for round two now I’m back.”

Your jaw drops open, as you feel Ricky draw in a sharp breath. His grip tightens on you, and you know that he is angry.

“She’s mine,” He growls deeply, “You made a mess of her before, but she’s mine now.”

You whimper as Ricky pulls you back closer to him, and you feel that his cock has now reached full hardness. You try not to make it obvious as you press into him, back arching slightly in want for him.

“I think you made a mess of her too,” Gyuvin observes, his gaze flicking up from yours, into the eyes of Ricky’s, “And I don’t think she’d be opposed to my taking of her again.”

Heat surges between your thighs, as you recall the way that Gyuvin fucked you, the way that his cock stretched you out, burned your insides with a sting you can’t quite explain the feeling of. You promised Ricky, but in the state you are in right now, god, you wouldn’t say no to having him just once more.

“She’s not leaving my sight,” Ricky spits, tangling his fingers in your hair, “I said… she’s mine.”

You like that, Ricky speaking for you, maybe a little too much. You feel so pathetic, objectified, and it makes you whimper.

“I didn’t say you had to leave,” Gyuvin smirks, “You’re welcome to watch, gē.”

Ricky hisses through gritted teeth, he is shooting daggers at Gyuvin, as he confidently steps further into the room. You aren’t sure what to say or do, as the two men have their power-play, and you’re left in the middle of it. Committed to Ricky, but definitely not objecting to Gyuvin fucking you again.

“If you think I’ll let go of my kitten for even a second,” Ricky murmurs, “You’re dreaming, it’s not going to happen.”

Gyuvin chuckles as he reaches the bed, bravely kneeling on the edge of the mattress down by your feet. His stare continues to swap between you and your now-boyfriend’s, and you truly have no idea what to expect.

“That’s okay,” Gyuvin smiles sweetly as he moves closer to you, “You don’t have to let go.”

Ricky kisses your neck, in an attempt to mark his territory, though that doesn’t stop Gyuvin from finding position between your legs, where Ricky’s hand rests over your core in another protective action.

“Back. Off.” Ricky warns him, “This won’t end well for you. Get out.”

Gyuvin comes closer again, he hasn’t touched you yet, but he is close, his hand supporting his weight on the mattress next to your hip. Your breathing is staggered, from the friction that Ricky is causing, and the closeness of Gyuvin, you’re overwhelmed and nothing has ever tempted you more than this.

“Come on Ricky,” Gyuvin whines playfully, “I’m sure we could share, just once?”

You feel like you’re going insane, hips bucking reflexively into Ricky’s hand in a feeble attempt to relieve some of the pressure, eyes glassy and dazed as Gyuvin places his hand over Ricky’s to help you out. A strangled moan leaves your lips, you feel filthy, impure and broken.

“Fuck me,” You manage to stammer out, unsure which of the boys you are talking to, or if it is aimed at both, “Please, please, please, just fuck me.”

Ricky presses two fingers into you, his palm flat over your clit makes your legs shake, tears prick your eyes as the feeling isn’t enough, though it is still good, but you are losing your mind. 

“You heard her, gē,” Gyuvin sneers, “Go on then, don’t be shy.”

Ricky is so tense, he hates being told what to do, but you find him repositioning, sitting up and adjusting his legs before pulling you back onto his lap, still facing Gyuvin, with your back to Ricky. He guides you up, only to force your hips down, making you take his cock in all the way, the sound you make is inhuman, a cry loud enough to probably wake the neighbours, but you are so damned far from caring.

“Daddy,” You babble, nails digging into his thighs as you try to find some sort of balance while Ricky eagerly bounces you on his cock, “Feels so good, fuck, more, more, more!”

Gyuvin is still close enough for you to feel his breathing, his hand palming at the erection growing in his grey sweats, biting his lip as he watches you.

“Good, kitten,” Ricky praises you, slapping your ass and grabbing roughly at the flesh as you drop down on his cock again, clearly proud of himself, “You’re looking jealous, Gyuvin-ah.”

You watch through teary eyes, barely able to see, just enough to make out Gyuvin beginning to undress. The harshness of Ricky’s thrusts pick up a bit more as he feels threatened by his slightly-younger roommate, while you are so cock-drunk that you are unaware. 

“Just sizing her up,” Gyuvin chuckles as he kicks his underwear off, “Wondering whether she could take us both, is all.”

Your ears are ringing as another orgasm racks through your body, and you aren’t sure whether you heard Gyuvin right. Ricky pulls out of you suddenly, and flips you over to face him, though you’re still on top, and your stomach drops as you process Gyuvin’s words, and the lack of rejection from Ricky towards them.

Ricky uses the new angle to thrust up into you from underneath, your body is practically limp at this point, it is so hard to hold yourself up. When you feel the weight shift on the mattress behind you is when you give up, resting your head in the crook of Ricky’s neck, a string of incoherent words, drool and staggered breaths all that are leaving you now.

“Don’t make us wait,” Ricky replies, his tone almost too calm and collected, “Kitten’s gonna pass out completely before you get the chance, otherwise.”

You feel it, Gyuvin’s cock, as he teases the tip at your already full entrance, before he takes two fingers to help open you further, giving him just enough room to enter with a couple inches. You stop breathing completely, the sensation nothing but pain at first, and Ricky slows down to try and soothe you through it.

“Breathe, my baby cat,” Ricky coos, lifting his hand to your mouth, giving you his middle and index finger to suck on, both for your own need, and to save his neck from any further marking, “You can do it, come on, it’s okay.”

Gyuvin slowly moves in further, and you finally find your breath again to break down into full sobs. The pain is so intense, you are filled in a way that you didn’t even think was possible, but you love it. You lazily suck on Ricky’s fingers, though your mouth hangs half open now, unable to move as Gyuvin and Ricky fill you completely.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Gyuvin hisses, his teeth gritted as he pulls back before thrusting in again, still slowly, but with a little more speed, “Fuck, this feels so good I don’t know how long I’ll last.”

Ricky finds another opportunity to strike, his competitiveness and dominance always at the forefront of his mind, “It’s okay, kitten… Daddy will last as long as you need.”

Gyuvin and Ricky match their pace, finding a rhythm to fuck you in, as you lay between them in a state of being that you struggle to even describe. The feeling is amazing, in the cursed, sick, twisted way, taking two cocks at once wasn’t on your agenda for the day, but here we are, you are basically paralysed, an object for them to take from, and nothing more.

Ricky is driven wild by the feeling of his best friend’s cock against his, perhaps more than he is proud to admit, as he too struggles not to falter. He flicks his gaze between you and Gyuvin above you, and his stomach ties in knots as he sees Gyuvin staring him down.

“I knew you’d like it,” Gyuvin teases, his voice is cracked and breathy, “Feels good, fucking her tiny pussy at the same time, doesn’t it? Does my cock feel good to you Ricky?”

Your eyes roll back in your head, unable to do anything but listen to this seemingly never ending power play between the two, insults and jabs between them are constant, but even in your fucked-out state, you can see that they both like this way too much to act normal.

“Cum,” You mumble, “Daddy… Gyuvinnie… please.”

It took all your strength to utter those words, the pool of saliva on Ricky’s chest from your mouth now flows down his neck, staining the pillow under him. They have got to be close, right? How long has it been? Overstimulated is an understatement for you, unsure whether you could even get another orgasm out no matter how hard you tried.

“What’s that, kitten?” Ricky sneers at you, god, he is insatiable, “You want us to cum? To fill you up? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You aren’t even sure if you nodded, or said yes aloud, reality shifting you between dimensions, are you awake or asleep? You try to dig your nails into Ricky’s arm, but you can’t tell whether your hands work anymore.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” Gyuvin gasps, and with a particularly hard thrust that has you jolting forward, you feel it, “Fuck.”

Gyuvin’s cock twitches and pulsates in you as he releases, his thrusting is erratic, off beat as he fills you effortlessly, just like earlier, but this time with another cock inside you too.

“Gyuvin,” Ricky moans, and if you were more alert you would have been wide-eyed at this, at hearing him call Gyuvin’s name, and not yours, “That’s so fucking hot, I… I…”

Ricky too, releases barely moments after Gyuvin begins to slow down, you feel that same sensation, warmth spreading and filling you to overflow, cum dripping straight back out onto Ricky and he hasn’t even finished yet.

You can’t stop the tears from flowing, you are a crying, shaking mess as the two men finally come to a stop, and Gyuvin pulls out first, slow and gentle, but you still let out a sob. The room is silent other than heavy breathing from Ricky and Gyuvin, and quiet cries from you, but it is not awkward at all.

Gyuvin stares at Ricky for a moment, who quickly pipes up, “I’ve got this, Gyuvin, you go clean yourself up.”

Gyuvin laughs as he shuffles back off the bed, picking up the clothes he had thrown onto the floor a little while ago when he was just too desperate to get into you, and he makes his way toward the door before turning to face you again.

“Don’t start,” Ricky chuckles, seeing the devious grin on his best friend's face, “Get out of here, Gyuvin-ah.”

He rolls his eyes before leaving the room, closing the door behind him and leaving you and Ricky alone. You have Ricky’s fingers in your mouth again, and you are still full of his cock. Most of the pain subsided moments after Gyuvin pulled out of you, but you aren’t sure that you’ll be able to walk properly for a few days at least. You steady your breathing by focusing on Ricky’s heartbeat, and by staring up at him as he looks down at you. 

“You okay?” He asks you softly, “That was… a lot.”

You nod with a soft smile, releasing his fingers and letting him brush your hair off your face. You are a mess, and you know that you look it too, desperate for a shower, but not quite ready to move just yet.

“I’m okay,” You reply, “Yeah, it was.”

Ricky leans down to kiss you, and it is not until you begin to kiss him back that you realise he was doing this to distract you, the perfect opportunity to pull out of you, leaving you empty and bare, more cum dripping out onto the bed under you. The pain spikes with the sensitivity, but decreases fast enough that by the time Ricky pulls back from the kiss, it is nothing but a dull ache, a very prominent, unwavering dull ache.

“How about I run a bath?” Ricky asks, “You’ll stay the night, won’t you?”

“A bath sounds nice,” You reply easily, “I’d love to stay, too.”

Ricky kisses your nose before he gets up, walking to his ensuite bathroom and turning the faucet in the tub to run the water. He glances back into the room to see you have rolled onto your side to watch him, you will never get sick of watching him, and he breaks out in a full smile too.

“Good,” He purrs, “You are mine after all.”

[cece693]

Make Me Cry

pairing: nico di angelo x son of zeus tags: nico cries, emotional mess, abandonment issues, male reader is the son of zeus

Nico sat in the far corner of Cabin 13, knees drawn to his chest, trembling fingers pressed to his mouth in an attempt to stifle the sobs that refused to quiet. Shadows hung heavy in the cramped space, as if even the dark itself sought to crush him. He could barely breathe from the weight of it all—guilt, doubt, and the incessant whisper in his mind that told him he wasn’t enough. That he would never be enough.

Why couldn’t he just be happy with the one person who truly cared about him?

You—son of Zeus, golden and radiant—were his opposite in every conceivable way. You were everything he was not, and yet you chose him. Nico had thought he’d forgotten how to love, how to trust until you slipped through the cracks in his armor. Each time you smiled at him, it felt like the sun piercing through a storm-ridden sky. But in the quiet moments, the voices in his head turned cruel: you were only with him out of pity, or because you felt responsible for the broken son of Hades.

They look at me like I’m cursed. They look at you like a god.

The memory of camp’s glances burned in Nico’s chest: the subtle stares whenever you walked side by side, the hushed whispers that you, the shining hero, could do so much better. Some of the other campers—particularly from Camp Juniper—had begun suggesting, almost teasingly, that you were better suited for someone stronger, someone like Ethan, a powerful demigod who had fought by your side during the war with Gaea. The two of you had effortlessly bonded during the chaos of battle, forming a friendship so strong that it almost felt like it was destined.

Maybe it was true. Maybe you did belong with someone like him—someone who could keep up with you, someone who didn’t have the weight of a dark underworld hanging over him. Maybe Ethan's warm charisma and warrior's spirit made him a better match for you, someone who could shine just as brightly as you did.

Maybe they’re right, Nico thought. Maybe you could be happy with him. With someone who doesn’t make you feel like you’re always walking on eggshells. He’s going to realize it one day. He’s going to leave…

So lost in that spiral, Nico failed to notice the cabin door sliding open. You slipped inside, your eyes adjusting to the darkness before they locked onto his silhouette. The sight of him, small and trembling against the wall, made your heart clench. “Nico…?” you called softly, stepping closer. At the sound of your voice, his heart lurched painfully. He didn’t want you to see him this vulnerable, to confirm what the rumors suggested: that he was too damaged to stand at your side.

But you were determined. You approached slowly, eventually kneeling beside him, your tone infinitely gentle. “Hey…” you whispered, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. Instead of leaning into it, Nico jerked away with a shudder. You froze, worry etched on your face. “What’s wrong, Nico? Did I…did I do something to upset you?”

Nico squeezed his eyes shut, afraid to see the hurt in your expression. You, who always took on everyone’s burdens like they were your own.

“S-stop,” he managed, voice hoarse from crying. “I—I can’t do this anymore. It’s not fair to you.”

Your eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

He dragged in a wavering breath. His chest felt tight, but he forced himself to continue. “I…can’t be with you,” he croaked. “I don’t…I’m just not—I’m not what you need. You should be with someone like you—someone who’s not…”

His attempt at pushing you away was undone by the quivering in his voice. Though he tried to make himself sound resolute, tears glistened at the corners of his eyes, betraying the pain beneath his words.

You took a small, steadying breath, refusing to budge from your spot. “You don’t really want that,” you said, voice quiet but firm. “Please talk to me, Nico. Whatever you’re thinking, whatever you’re feeling—it’s okay to say it.”

He trembled under your earnest gaze. “You don’t…you don’t get it,” he muttered, tears gathering at his lashes. “Everyone thinks that you’re doing me a favor. That you’re bound to me because you feel sorry for me, or something like that. And I…I can’t bear it. How can I not feel insecure when everyone sees that I'm a burden—”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

Nico’s eyes flicked up in surprise. He could feel the storm brewing in your gaze, just as tangible as the distant thunder echoing beyond the cabin walls. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence weighed down by the echo of Nico’s own insecurities. “Don’t…” your voice broke slightly, “don’t ever call yourself a burden.”

Nico swallowed hard, tears still slipping down his cheeks. “Then what am I?” he whispered, half in desperation and half in challenge, like he wanted to believe you but couldn’t find it in himself to try.

“You’re everything to me,” you said, more forcefully than you intended. You edged closer, fingers aching to reach out but holding back, not wanting to startle him further. “I chose you—and I keep choosing you every day. You didn’t force me. There’s no pity involved.”

Nico shook his head, curls falling over his eyes. “They say you shine too brightly to be with someone like me. That I’m nothing but a shadow in your light.”

You inhaled, slowly reaching out. This time, you didn’t give him the chance to pull away, gently settling your hand atop his. “Nico,” you murmured, softly but unyielding. “I am light, yeah—but light doesn’t only illuminate all that’s bright and perfect. It finds its way into the darkest corners, too. It reveals things worth seeing, worth loving—things you refuse to see in yourself.”

Nico’s throat bobbed. “But—”

“And as for Ethan,” you continued, letting just a trace of humor soften your voice, “he’s great. He’s strong, loyal, sure. We’re friends. And that’s it. The rest is gossip, Nico. Nothing more.”

Your words wrapped around him like a lifeline. He bowed his head, breath catching. You gave his hand a careful squeeze, hoping it could somehow convey what you couldn’t put into words. You wished you could reach into his heart and silence every lie he told himself.

“Listen to me,” you whispered, leaning in. “I choose you. I don’t feel bound by some duty, and I’m not doing you a favor. This—” You gestured between you and him. “This is real. And if you'll have me, I'll stay with you forever.”

Nico’s face crumpled, another wave of tears gathering. But there was relief there, too. He let out a shuddering breath and loosened his grip on his knees, letting your fingers curl more securely around his own. “I—I’m scared,” he confessed, voice trembling. “I’m scared that one day you’ll wake up and decide…decide that what they’re saying is true.”

A bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, just enough to cast wavering shadows across the walls of Cabin 13. You felt the thunder in your chest, echoing the resolute thrum of your heart. Gently, you reached up and cupped Nico’s chin, guiding his gaze to meet yours.

“They don’t decide what’s true,” you told him. “We do.”

For a moment, the cabin was silent save for the soft rise and fall of your breathing. Then, cautiously, Nico uncrossed his legs. He let you draw him in, wrapping him in an embrace so tender it nearly broke your heart. His tears dampened your shirt, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was holding him close, letting him feel the certainty in your arms. Camp could whisper all they wanted. They could talk of Ethan’s strengths and your supposed perfection. None of them knew the warmth that sparked in your chest whenever Nico looked at you and finally believed, if only for a moment, that he was worthy of love.

You’d show him that truth as many times as it took.