#it did have readers who appreciated it at the time

[florestalio]

HIDE-N-SEEK — l.hs

recently, your town has been getting terrorized by a serial killer, going by the name of 'ghostface'. of course you were scared to be his victim. imagine the sheer terror on your face — and the utter delight on his — when your fear turns out to not have been caused by your paranoia.

GENRE— ghostface au, stalker au

WARNINGS— dubcon, then noncon, and then dubcon again (you'll see what I'm talking about), both reader and heeseung are kinda fucked up, mentions of killing, mentions of stalking, knife play, fear play, reader has tits, reader's pussy gets called 'her' a few times?, fingering, cum eating, slight spit play, spit kink (?), name-calling (baby, slut, bitch, etc.), unprotected sex (don't), blood, blood play, bulge kink, clit pinching, missionary, mating press, kind of an open ending (?), NOT PROOFREAD, let me know if I missed any!

WORDCOUNT— 8.2k

NOTE— among the italicized text, if you see normal text, it basically indicates the opposite. as in, if the entire block of text wasn't italicized, then the normal text would have been in italics instead... if that helps

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

NO ONE WAS SAFE.

No matter where you resided, if Ghostface chose you as his victim, consider yourself to be dead.

No amount of protection, whether it be in the form of weapons or guards, locked doors or high security neighbourhoods — no one was safe from him.

You may ask, who exactly was ‘Ghostface’? Why, he is a renowned serial killer, one who wears a pitch black coat and a creepy mask, paired with white rubber gloves. The last thing his victims see before dying is the creepy ghostface mask smiling down at them — as said by a ghostface victim, who had miraculously survived the attack, only to die hours later in the same hospital at which he was interviewed. Reports say that the victim had been stabbed a total of twenty times, the word ‘Ghostface' carved onto his forehead. Apparently, he didn't appreciate the fact that someone survived him — even if it was only for a few hours.

Which was why everyone was scared to go out, even during the day. Till this date, no one had ever seen his actual face, his entire existence a mystery to everyone except him. He was truly an enigma, the source of both amazement and horror for all.

People were scared to even interact with each other, in case said person turned out to be Ghostface. What if they did something to piss the other person off, resulting in their death — perhaps in just a few hours from the aforementioned incident?

For an introvert like you, avoiding people came easy to you, it being your second nature. You weren't too worried about offending Ghostface, even by mistake. But no one was ever truly safe, not from the hands of a psycho serial killer, were they?

You would often find yourself peeking behind your shoulder at random times of the day, checking if someone was looking at you, or worse, following you. Perhaps it was simply due to your paranoia, combined with the increasing cases of deaths in the hands of Ghostface. Either way, your guard was always up.

You used to stay at the dorms on campus before, even when the deaths had started occurring on a daily basis. It was only after Regina — a girl who you never really liked because of her bitchy attitude — was found one morning by her roommate, completely mauled in her own dorm, lying in a pool of her own blood — did you finally feel terrified enough to move out of them, moving into a house in a slightly secluded region of the town, just around ten blocks away from campus. It wasn't a complete guarantee of your security, but it was better than nothing.

From some of the recent reports, apparently the victims of Ghostface were — stalked by him a few days prior to him killing them. Photos of the victims taken without their knowledge during the week before their death were found with their body. The police declared them to be taken by Ghostface, a fact that left you even more shaken than before.

You didn't have to be afraid of him. You were more than sure that you never did anything to piss anyone off, at least not knowingly. Surely no one could be holding a grudge against you, right? Especially not Ghostface?

Right?

IT WAS A NORMAL FRIDAY NIGHT — or as normal as it could be with the threat of becoming Ghostface’s next victim hanging heavily in the air.

Friday nights used to be the time when you danced, sang, got drunk, and hooked up, all night long at the frat parties that were held religiously every Friday. Now? Now people were afraid to look in other people's direction, in fear of provoking Ghostface.

It was truly remarkable, the way he had everyone in his chokehold. Rumors surrounding him specifically were mostly to blame for this.

See, according to many, Ghostface apparently likes to… toy with his victims before killing them. Exactly how does he toy with them?

According to the rumours, he gives them a phone call, taunting them. His voice is always distorted by a voice modulator, adding to the air of mystery surrounding him.

People were already downright terrified of him, but some people who apparently thought themselves to be hilarious, often mimicked Ghostface's antics — or what the rumours about him said — and called people up randomly, with a voice modulator. They would take advantage of the fact that no one actually knew what it sounded like, terrifying people to the core.

While some did it for pranking purposes, others did it for more malicious intentions, taking advantage of people's fears. It started getting worse and worse, the fakers, that is — until the government finally declared it to be a crime to mimic Ghostface, announcing a long time in jail for anyone who attempted it.

This put a stop to the mimicking, but it only made people grow more antsy. People were always silently waiting till their turn arrived to be Ghostface’s new victim, a fact that thrilled no one, but sent a chill down their spines, everytime they even thought of it.

Tonight was especially dark. The moon was behind the clouds, the eerie darkness causing you to feel more terrified than normal. It wasn't that dark, but with Ghostface out in the open…

You decided to focus on washing the rest of dirty dishes instead, trying to get your mind off the serial killer. You had procrastinated long enough, the dishes starting to pile up. What better way to distract yourself?

You turned on the television, listening to an anime while washing the dishes. Silence scared you, — which was ironic, since you were an introvert with terrible social anxiety — the need to have some kind of sound, in the tiny and isolated house of yours, other than the sound of washing dishes, was extremely high. The only available option on the television was anime, and… well, the news. But no one wants to listen to the news during these times — all the news channels simply showed Ghostface's new victims and their mutilated bodies that lay in a pool of their own blood.

You were done with washing the dishes, putting all the plates away neatly — when suddenly, your phone rang. You peeked at the screen, your lips turning into a frown — it was an unknown number.

You wiped your hands on your pants, picking up the call, putting the phone to your ear. “Hello…? May I know who this is?”

The phone remained silent for an entire minute. Just as you were about to speak again, a somewhat distorted voice came from the other side of the call. “What's your name?”

You frowned. Why was this person asking for your name, when he was the one that called you in the first place? What a fucking weirdo.

You spoke again. “I don't wish to sound rude, but — shouldn't I be the one asking that? I mean, you were the one that called me, you know — not the other way around.”

You heard a chuckle from the other side of the phone. It creeped you out, the sound more menacing than amused. He spoke again, his voice still sounding distorted. “Aren’t you adorable?”

You were starting to feel creeped out now. Your hand was gripping the last plate in your hand tightly, not even noticing how much pressure you were using on it. You spoke in a slightly higher voice, your tone pitchy with a detectable hint of panic. “Listen Mr. Stranger — I don't know who you are, nor am I particularly curious. But you aren't fucking funny, so if you don't have anything of importance to say, I'm hanging up.”

Silence. Again. This guy was really testing your patience.

Finally, he spoke again, his voice lower… still distorted. “I would watch my tone if I were you, sweetheart. It's no way to talk to a… stranger, is it?”

You gulped. He sounded so… ominous, his tone nothing short of menacing. With your anxiety spiking, you spoke again, your voice mostly level except for the slightest tremor to it. “What do you want…?”

The guy on the other side of the call let out a hum. “To know your name, of course. You still haven't told me.”

You let out a shaky breath, your grip on the plate tightening. “But why? What is the importance of my name to you?”

He let out a chuckle, his next words making your blood run cold. “So I can know who I'm looking at.”

You almost dropped the phone, all the colour from your face draining. You managed to speak up in a shaky voice. “C-Cut the act. You're not funny — the government declared jail for the pretenders, yet you're impersonating him–?”

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “But darling, I'm not an impersonator, am I?” His voice grew lower, an underlying threat evident in it. “You don't believe me to be one either.”

Tears stung your eyes, the hand that was clutching the plate starting to shake. You slowly put down the dish, your eyes darting frantically around your living room that was connected to the open kitchen, looking around to spot any potential threat — said ‘threat’ being… Ghostface. Even if you knew that it was pointless. If Ghostface wanted to kill you, he would succeed in doing so — no matter what obstacles he faces. “L-Look Mr. Ghostface — I barely even go out! Even when I do, I mostly keep to myself, I don't even interact with anyone. I'm sure I haven't done anything to piss anyone off — let alone you, even unintentionally! So why…”

Your voice took on a tone of desperate resignation at the end, the subtle acceptance of your fate evident in it. Ghostface cooed at your tone, his own voice sounding like that of an excited child. “Aren't you cute? Don't worry, you didn't piss me off, just — intrigued me. You're always so alone, all by yourself… I just had to find out everything about you, didn't I? You are such a mystery, one I took utter delight in unraveling. It's only fair that I get a prize for my hard work, right ___?”

With each word he spoke, his voice could be heard louder and louder, coming from somewhere around the house. Right as he finished the sentence, the side door of your house, leading to the garden outside, slammed open. Ghostface stood in the doorway, a knife in one hand, a burner phone in the other. He spoke, his voice distorted from the voice modulator.

“Right, ___?”

You let out a loud scream, the tears finally breaking free, as you turned on your heel, getting out of the open kitchen, towards the stairs. You knew from all those horror movies that running into your bedroom would be the worst possible move, but you really had no choice. You could hear him behind you, laughing as he gave chase. “Running off so quickly, darling? Won't you at least give me a greeting, welcome me into your house? That's bad manners, you know. Or did mama not teach you any?”

His voice sounded like two people, speaking at once, one of a real person, the other a distorted voice like those in old radios. It unnerved you, since his voice modulator was probably glitching due to him running. You ran into your bedroom, locking it quickly — just in time for him to bang on the door loudly.

He yelled loudly, his voice bordering on that of manic excitement. “Open the door ___! You know that the bedroom is never a smart move. Or are you a dumb baby that doesn't know the basics of survival?”

His taunting was causing your already scattered thought process even harder to get together, your hands shaking. You looked for a hiding place before he inevitably broke down the door.

Under the bed? A good idea, but he would probably think of the same. But what other hiding places could there possibly…  the closet.

You quickly ran to the closet, throwing open its door. You pushed some of your clothes apart, going far inside, before pulling the clothes in front of you to make it seem as inconspicuous as possible. You sat at the back, your legs pulled up to your chest, your breathing shallow. You realised what a terrible hiding place it was, but it will have to do.

The banging grew more frantic, before he finally managed to kick down the door. You could hear his voice from inside the closet, causing you to still your breathing, to avoid getting caught. His voice was more of a menacing growl, no longer disoriented — maybe his voice modulator ran out of batteries? “Having fun princess? You're so fucking naive if you think hiding here will save you.”

He paced about the room slowly. “Where could you be hiding, hm? I hope it's not–” He dropped to his knees, peeking under the bed. “–under the bed? No, of course not. That would have been too easy. You're naive, but not that much, huh?”

But then he let out a snicker, one that almost caused you to start crying again. You could hear his footsteps again. “Or are you?”

Before you could comprehend the meaning of his words, the closet door was thrown open, his hand grabbing your wrist in a vice-like grip, pulling you out, tearing a scream out of you. “Turns out you are a dumb little bunny after all.”

He tackled your struggling figure to the ground, pinning your legs with his knees on either side of you. He used one of his hands to pin your wrists above your head, his other hand raising the knife, pushing it under your jaw, just a hair-breath shy of cutting into your throat. His voice sounded like a growl, an octave deeper. “Don't you fucking dare move — unless you would like me to slit your pretty little throat open. Trust me, I would take great pleasure in doing so.”

Your movements stilled, your breath coming out in short huffs. Tears were streaming down your face freely, your entire body covered in goosebumps. You stared up at him — at his mask, rather. He tilted his head to the side. “Did you have fun playing hide and seek? I hope you did, because I cannot guarantee that you will be having much fun now — it's my turn to have fun now, afterall.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. You were starting to accept your fate. Any moment now, he would slice the knife across your throat, slitting it in one clean swipe. He would laugh while watching the blood flowing freely from the wound, watching as the life leaves your eyes. It was all just a game for him, after all.

But he seemed to have different plans. He trailed his knife down, under the edge of your shirt. He slipped it inside, the cool metal making contact with your skin, the temperature difference sending a jolt through you. He traced the pointed end on your stomach, before doing something that shocked you — and gave you a hint of his true intentions.

He turned the knife sideways, sharp side facing up, before digging it into your shirt, slicing through it. The knife tore through the fabric like paper, before he threw the ruined fabric in some random corner of the room. You gasped at the cold air, squirming slightly. He pressed the knife above your stomach warningly. “Sit still darling. Or else I won't hesitate to cut up your useless body.”

Tears stung your eyes again at his words. But you stilled, too eager to survive. Your eyes suddenly widened as you saw him slip the knife under the middle part of your bra, before slicing it open. You gasped as he threw the discarded fabric away, the cool air hitting your boobs, your nipples instantly hardening. You were suddenly acutely aware of the precarious position you were in, unable to stop the heat creeping up your neck, as you noticed his intense gaze on your tits.

He gave you a warning look from behind his mask, his knife coming back against your throat. “One wrong move, and your throat will get sliced open.” He let go of your wrists — watching as you kept them in the same place. He smirked under the mask at your pliancy, his gloved hand coming to pinch your hardened nipples.

You let out a tiny shriek of surprise at the feeling of his rubber clad fingers groping you, unable to resist a whimper as he squeezed your mounds. He was merciless in the way he groped you, squeezing and pinching, completely unaffected by your whimpers and gasps — it was exhilarating.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hold back a whine, as he twisted your nipple in between his fingers. You desperately tried to ignore the heat that was pooling down in your lower stomach, your heart racing.

He pinched your nipple again, squeezing your left tit roughly. He felt you shudder underneath him, the usual thrill that came with threatening his victims, running through his veins.

Yet, there was something else — an almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing, a flicker of… heat in your eyes, despite the situation you were in. Curious, he slightly moved his knife away from your throat, but not enough to make you feel any less threatened. “What's this…?”

You looked into the eyes of his mask, gulping audibly. He pinched your nipple again, tearing out a whine from you. His eyes narrowed at your reaction. He wasn't dumb — he knew when someone was turned on. But… in this situation? With a knife to your throat? Your life in his hands? It made no sense. Still — his body responded, his pants tightening.

He slowly dragged the knife down, in between your breasts, pausing at your stomach. He looked up at your face, searching for any sign of fear, or even defiance — nothing.

Instead, he saw your lips parted slightly, your breath hitching — he swore he saw your pupils dilate. He let out a shaky breath, his voice laced in disbelief. “You…”

His grip tightened noticeably, curiosity and annoyance warring in his expression. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" The realization sent a jolt of dark excitement through him. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Sick bitch.”

You let out a whimper, shaking your head frantically, in denial of the whole situation. Still, your thighs rubbed together involuntarily, trying to quell the ache between them.

An almost menacing chuckle escaped him as he registered your movement. His free hand moved to pin your thighs down, trapping them between his own once again. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, feeling his control slip. "You're really getting off on this?”

You let out a whine, squirming slightly. He stared down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never been this close to losing control before. But the way you were reacting, the way you were looking at him — it was driving him insane.

"I should cut you," he growled, the knife trembling against your stomach. Your eyes fluttered slightly at the threat, a slow exhale leaving you. You couldn't understand your own body. Why, the fuck, were you reacting the way you were?

He blinked rapidly, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. The knife lowered incrementally. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" His voice was incredulous, though tinged with reluctant awe. "Getting turned on by someone threatening you?”

Your eyes stung with tears at his words, your body reacting in the completely opposite manner — your thighs clenched, an almost pitiful whimper leaving you.

He watched your body language, the tears welling up in your eyes — a strange mix of emotions hit him. He dropped the knife to his side, as one of his gloved hands slid up to grip your jaw firmly. "You're fucked up." He whispered, anger and desire clashing in his voice.

You gulped, only just realising that your hands were free. Yet you made no attempt to move them.

His grip tightened on your jaw, leaning in until his face was almost touching yours — his mask, rather. His breath was ragged, mingling with yours. "Is this what you wanted?" he snarled, though the bite was gone from his voice, replaced by confusion, mixed with arousal. "To get me all worked up?”

You whimpered at the pressure on your jaw, your nails digging into your palm, as you clenched your fists. You were so, so painfully aroused.

A rough sound caught in his throat as he stared down at you, fighting an internal battle. He originally just wanted to play with you a little, make you feel worthless — like trash that he could easily dispose of. Disposing you was exactly what he had planned to do, although now that plan was no longer going to be put into action — at least for the time being. 

He threw the knife away, causing it to clatter to the floor. His other hand moved to your hip, digging into the flesh there. "You little…”

You winced at his grip, your nose scrunching up in pain. You stared up at him, tears still evident in your waterline.

That was his last straw. He took off his mask, allowing you a brief glimpse of his face. His last semblance of control shattered, as he cut himself off, his mouth crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. His tongue forced its way in, tangling with yours demandingly. He kissed you like he was trying to punish you, to make you pay for the effect you were having on him.

Your eyes widened in shock, as you gasped loudly into the kiss. You tried to kiss him back, to match his pace — all in vain. His lips were punishing, intending to make it hurt for you. Unfortunately all it did was make you crave for more.

He finally broke the kiss, panting heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. His heart was racing, his mind reeling. "What the fuck is going on…?" he muttered, his voice shaking with a combination of anger and awe. "You're supposed to be scared, not turned on."

You gulped. Your senses were starting to blur, all of them zeroing in on his touch and his voice. It was painstakingly weird how you were reacting — how he was reacting to you. But damn, you enjoyed it — so fucking much.

He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes with a fierce intensity. "Say something, fuck. Explain this." His hands remained gripping you, betraying his conflicted desire and frustration. "I'm trying to terrify you and instead..." He trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

When you didn't immediately respond, he growled low in his throat. His hands tightened around you, his body pressed flush against yours. "Fucking talk, you little bitch. Tell me why the fuck you're so turned on right now."

Your breath hitched, your mind going blank. He was insulting you, his voice carrying disgust — you fucking loved it.

A dark smirk crossed his face at your breath hitching, his thumb brushing across your lower lip. "Look at that — all worked up, can't form words…" He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Does it make your pussy throb when I threaten you?"

Your eyes widened at the sudden crude language and the bluntness in his voice, your skin pricking, panties practically sticking to your cunt. He was right — your pussy did indeed throb when he threatened you.

Suddenly, you realised that you recognised him. He was Heeseung, one of the most popular guys at your college.

You remembered having interacted with him just once, when he bumped into you back in your first year. He was your senior, who immediately apologised to you after that, helping you pick up your books. He walked with you for a while after that, forcefully engaging you in small talk. He didn't seem to mind your short answers or your eagerness to get rid of him at all, continuing to talk — until a friend of his called him to go to class, causing him to reluctantly stop his rambling, waving you bye and leaving.

You remembered finding out all about him that very day during recess, overhearing his name from the table next to yours in the cafeteria. It was a group of girls, who seemed to be gossiping in what they thought were hushed voices… only, they weren't. You could hear every word.

They were specifically talking about Heeseung, about how hot he was, how smart he was — both book smart and street smart. You remembered mentally rolling your eyes at their fawning, before a certain piece of information had caught your interest.

They mentioned him to be a prude, never showing interest in going into relationships or even casual hook ups. Apparently, he had never gone on a date with anyone, politely turning down everyone who asked. It seemed rather odd of him, since he seemed like the dream package.

This incident had occurred a year before the killings first started. Nevertheless, Heeseung was never the kind of guy who seemed to be capable of something as shockingly gruesome as this. The thought made you sick to your stomach, a nasty feeling under your skin.

You snapped back into the present time, looking up at him, truly looking at him. He barely looked anything like the Heeseung you met during freshman year. His smirk grew wider at the sudden realization on your face, his hand moving to gently squeeze your throat. He was going to have to have a talk with you about college later on. Right now, he had more important things to focus on. For instance, how aroused you were from your life being threatened. "Yeah, that's it. Your little heart races and your pussy gets so fucking wet when I scare you." He leaned back to look at you, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light.

He watched your throat bob as you swallowed, his hand still gently squeezing. "You're a fucking mess, you know that?" Heeseung leaned in again, his lips just a hair's breadth from yours. "A little slut who gets off on being threatened.” His words were a whisper against your lips, his breath hot against your skin. "And you know what the worst part is? I think I might actually like it." He pulled back, his gaze boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

You stared up at him, your breathing slightly shallow, begging him with your eyes to touch you. Heeseung let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable." His hand slid from your throat, trailing down your chest teasingly. "Here I am, supposedly threatening you, but we both know it's me who should be terrified.”

Your back arched into his touch, a small whine leaving you. He chuckled darkly at your reaction, his fingers brushing over the swell of your breasts. "Look at that — arching into my touch like a fucking bitch in heat." His hand continued down, tracing the curves of her body possessively.

You whined at his words, your back arching even more. You let out whimpers, shaky exhales leaving you. His eyes flashed with wicked amusement at the sound. "Oh, listen to those whimpers. Pathetic." He pinched your nipple abruptly, twisting just to the point of pain. "You're so fucking desperate for it, aren't you?”

You let out a loud gasp of pain, your body jolting — yet your body begged for more, a whimper eliciting from you the very next second. A smug grin spread across his face as he watched you whimper. "Five seconds ago I was trying to scare you, now look at you fucking trembling for my touch." He bent down, his lips grazing against your neck, as he nipped at your skin. "What does that make you?”

You gulped. His teeth dragged over your pulse point, marking your skin. "It makes you a needy little slut, doesn't it?" His hand finally reached your thigh, gripping it possessively. "A slut who can't get enough of my touch, no matter how much she pretends to be afraid.”

You whined, begging for more. "Mmm… that whine is fucking music to my ears." He abruptly lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist as he pressed his hard cock against you. "Don't you see what you do to me? All of that bullshit where you pretended to be scared…”

You let out a shaky moan, pressing back against him. Heeseung silenced you with a brutal kiss, biting your lip to keep you quiet as he rubbed himself against you through your clothes. "You think I'm scary?" He growled, his hands roaming over your body possessively.

You let out sharp gasps, your voice coming out shaky. “A b-bit–?”

He bit your bottom lip harder, pulling back with your lip caught between his teeth. "Shut. Up." His voice was rough, commanding. "You don't get to smart-mouth me while you're practically dripping." He let your lip go with a sharp tug, making you whimper.

You bit your lip to muffle any further noises. His eyes darkened dangerously as he noticed your silence, one hand capturing both wrists above your head once again, while the other trailed down to your center. "Not going to lie, but princess? The way you just submitted to me like that?" He pressed against you meaningfully. "Fucking hot.”

You whimpered at his touch, your hips bucking up, pressing into his hand. He pushed his hand inside your shorts, his fingers finding her soaked panties, rubbing against your clit through the fabric. "So fucking wet. And you know what?" He rubbed faster, his thumb pressing against your clit. "I fucking love it." He released your wrists to grab your face, forcing you to look at him.

You let out a loud whimper at his sudden grip. His fingers continued their torturous rhythm, watching your expression carefully. "You're supposed to be terrified, remember?" He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Shouldn't you be trying to push me away instead of grinding against my fingers like a good little slut?”

You bit your lip, staring into his eyes, trying to prevent yourself from moaning out loud. His free hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you flush against him, as he continued his movements. "You're a fucking liar." He growled, his fingers moving faster. "Admit it. You're not afraid of me. You're so fucking turned on.”

You let out a choked moan, grinding back onto his fingers. He grinned sadistically, his fingers finally moving your panties aside to slip inside you. "Mmm, look at that." He curled his fingers, hitting your g-spot perfectly.

You let out a loud gasp, your back arching. You could see stars at the back of your eyes, that's how good it felt. He thrust his fingers deeper, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. "You're so fucking tight. And wet." He leaned down to bite your neck, hard, sucking a bruise on your skin. "I bet my dick would fit perfectly in this pretty little cunt.”

You clenched around his fingers at his words, the thought of it making you crave even more. His fingers continued their relentless pace, feeling you clench around him. "You haven't answered me." His voice was low and dangerous. "Is that silence because you're afraid? Or because the thought of me fucking you is making you even wetter?”

You gulped, choosing to stay silent. He nuzzled against your neck, his breath hot against your skin, as he spoke. "Let me make it easier for you. Answer this." He thrust his fingers deeper. "Am I scaring you? Or turning you on even more than before?”

You let out a moan at the feeling of his fingers hitting deeper. His fingers curled harder, hitting your g-spot perfectly. "Ah, fuck, that's it." He pulled his fingers out, using the wetness to rub against your clit before shoving them back inside. "You're turned on. Impossibly so.”

He pulled his fingers out again, this time using his thumb to rub your clit in tight circles. "You're so fucking turned on, you can't even answer properly." He pressed two fingers back inside you, curling them to hit her g-spot again.

You let out a loud moan. He chuckled darkly as he felt your moan vibrate through your body. "That's it, princess. Don't hold back." He pumped his fingers harder, the wet squelching noises filling the room. "Your pussy is practically begging to be fucked.”

He added a third finger, stretching your cunt further. "Fuck, look at her." He pulled his fingers out, rubbing your clit with all three before shoving them back inside. "Your cute little cunt is starving for my dick.”

Heeseung increased his pace, fucking you with his fingers mercilessly. "Come all over my fingers," He growled in her ear. "Show me how badly you want it." He bit down harder on your neck, hitting your g-spot perfectly as he curled his fingers.

You let out a loud mewl, your eyes rolling back into your head. You clenched around his fingers, the band in your stomach starting to coil impossibly tight. The squelching noises from where his fingers slid in and out of you at a fast pace, did absolutely nothing, but cause an embarrassed flush to creep all over your face and neck.

He pressed down on your clit with his thumb, rubbing on it sloppily. Your abundant slick helped him do just that, the pace of his fingers growing harsher, mirroring his buddying frustration. A low growl bubbled in his throat, as he forced his fingers to go in deeper, trying to practically force an orgasm out of you. Needless to say, he succeeded soon enough, your back arching with a loud cry, your pussy clamping down on his fingers, your release practically gushing around them.

“That's it…” He coaxed, his fingers still pumping in and out of you, drawing out your release. “Look so pretty like this, all pliant for me.”

Your head was empty, completely devoid of all thoughts, your legs shaking slightly from the overstimulation. He let out a snicker at your state, bringing his hand up, in front of his face. He locked eyes with you, spreading his fingers, letting you see the strings of arousal clinging to them.

Upon seeing your flushed face, a smirk creeped up on his. Maintaining eye contact with you, he leisurely started licking his fingers clean. He dragged his tongue from the bottom of his finger to the top, collecting your cum on it, his saliva replacing it on your fingers.

Your eyes fluttered slightly, mouth parting. Heeseung took that as his que to grab your jaw and hold it open — with the same hand that he had stuffed inside you just moments ago — pushing his thumb inside, pressing down on your tongue. Holding your mouth open, he gathered a wad of spit with his tongue, before leaning down and spitting right into your open mouth. He watched with hooded eyes, as your own rolled back into your head, his spit dripping down to the back of your throat.

You could feel a tingling in your pussy again, empty, aching to be stuffed. Maybe with something more than just his fingers. He noticed the slight change in your body language almost immediately, of course he did — but who was he to deny you, when you were being so good for him?

Heeseung gave you a stern look. “Behave. Be a good girl, and keep still for me, hm?”

You could only gulp in response, as he released your jaw. You watched, as he shook off the black coat — or costume, whatever it was supposed to be. You kept still, your wrists still above your head, your fists clenching tightly, mimicking your thighs. Your eyes raked over his bare torso, your gaze trailing down — eventually resting on his extremely obvious hard on in his boxers. A large patch was already forming on its front from his precum, his cock straining hard against the fabric, begging to be released.

He smirked at your gaze. Teasingly, he ran his palm over his bulge, feeling it twitch under his hand. “Like what you see baby?”

You gulped, your eyes snapping up to his own. Your breath sped slightly, wanting to do something risky. Your life was still very much in danger, but you were willing to take the risk for now.

You slowly sat up, your face now extremely close to his. He raised a brow, an unimpressed gleam in his eyes. Yet, there was a curiosity in them — wanting to know your next move.

Although your next move didn't really impress him. Quite the opposite.

You raised your hand, slowly inching it closer to his boner. His eyes narrowed at your audacity. In a flash, he reached to his side, and picked up the discarded knife, holding it to your throat. He glared down at you, a cold, calculating look in his eyes. “Lay. Back. Down. Unless you want me to slit your throat, cut the rest of your body up, and use your blood as lube to fuck your corpse?”

Your eyes widened at his words, your hand freezing mid air, before quickly falling back to your side. Upon receiving another pointed glare from him, you laid back down, mindful of the knife that was back in his hands. You wanted him — no, needed him to fuck you — you, not your future possibly no-longer-breathing corpse.

Upon ensuring that you weren't up to anymore tricks, he once again put the knife away — out of your reach, but not out of his. Heeseung shrugged off his boxers, his cock immediately slapping against his stomach. It left a trail of precum, which he gathered on his fingers, before wrapping that same hand around his dick. He started to slowly pump it, using his own precum to slick it up.

Noticing your almost pitifully needy expression, he let out an amused scoff, before holding out his hand under her mouth. “Spit.” He ordered in a gruff voice.

Your eyes widened slightly at his command, before you hesitantly obeyed. Gathering a wad of saliva in your mouth, you spit it into his hand, watching with hooded eyes, as he used it to jerk himself off faster.

Once he was done, he spread your thighs again, letting out a confused grunt at how much more force he needed to use as compared to last time. He glared up at you. “You and I both know you want this, princess. So stop trying to deny me what I hunted you for. Or else…”

You bit your lip to suppress a whimper. Were you sick for getting even wetter at his words? Definitely. Should you tell him to stop and possibly escape whatever he was going to do? Obviously. Will you do it? Absolutely not.

In fact, an absolutely brilliant idea struck your magnificent brain. You decided to not obey him. Him, the renowned serial killer, Ghostface. Were you basically signing your own death certificate? Well… no harm in finding out, right?

You tried to close your legs shut, something which immediately earned you a nasty glare from him. His jaw clenched tightly, as he forcefully shoved your legs apart again. His hand reached for the knife, your eyes widening at the sight. “Seems like someone hasn't learnt their lesson yet…”

You tried to beg him to not hurt you, but the words died in your throat when he pressed the knife to it. A creepy smile adorned his face, as he caressed your face in a gentle manner, a sharp contrast to the knife to your throat. “Let me spell it out for you–” Right as he said those words, he grabbed your wrists tightly, holding you under him firmly, the knife lifting from your throat. You got confused for a second, before a scream tore out of you.

He was carving something on your stomach.

He shallowly carved his initials onto your stomach, laughing as you screamed. “Squirming will only make it hurt more~” He almost sang, his tone causing you to sob.

He was finally done, watching the blood flow out of the wound, almost moaning at the sight. “Fuck baby, do you even realise how hot you look right now?”

You hated it, every single bit of it. You didn't want him to fuck you anymore, hell, you felt ashamed of yourself for ever wanting it. You felt disgusted beyond words by yourself, for having him carve his initials on your stomach to make you realise the kind of guy you were dealing with. He wasn't some hot fictional guy from the books you read, he was an actual serial killer — someone who could quite literally kill you as and when he pleased.

Heeseung seemed to sense your inner monologue. He snickered. “Suddenly regretting everything baby? That's cute… it's as if you believe you had a choice in this in the first place. Cute.”

You wanted to scream, cry, sob — all at the same time. How did you even manage to get yourself into this mess?

You didn't have much time to ponder, as he suddenly sliced his knife through your panties, finally ripping them off you. He shrugged off his own boxers, rubbing the tip of his cock along the arousal coating your puffy folds. A shiver ran down your spine, causing you to bite down on your lip. You hated it, you didn't want it — but your body couldn't deny how good it felt.

Heeseung wasn't any less affected than you. He let out a groan, his eyes shutting briefly. “See how good that feels baby? You think you don't want it, but your body says something different. See how your pussy keeps dripping all over my cock?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears welling up in them — tears from exactly what, you didn't know. Was it embarrassment? Pain? Pleasure? Neither did you know, nor were you keen on finding out.

With his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, he slowly pushed himself in, groaning from how easily he slid in, thanks to your slick. He let out a rough noise from the back of his throat. “Look at how your cunt is sucking me in like a slut. You sure you don't want this, baby?”

His knife had returned to your throat, his other hand gripping your hip. You could only bite your lip to muffle a whimper, your tears having broken free. He felt — good. You just wished this happened under different circumstances. When he wasn't cutting you up or threatening your life as Ghostface, maybe.

He bottomed out, burying himself to the hilt. He let out a groan, his eyes falling to your stomach. They widened, noticing something other than his initials he had just carved on it. There was a bulge on your stomach. “Holy shit…”

As if in a trance, he pressed down on it with his hand that wasn't holding the knife, watching as you involuntarily arched your back. He let out a laugh in disbelief. “Would you look at that? Had no idea you were this sexy, princess.”

He didn't wait to see your reaction, pulling out slowly, before slamming back inside. He watched your body jerk at the force, the bulge disappearing and reappearing. It was so, so hot.

He put the knife away, just out of reach of you. He gripped your hips with both hands, once again pulling almost completely out, watching as the bulge disappeared, before slamming back in, watching it reappear. He effectively tore a moan out of you this time, watching in amusement as you quickly slammed a hand onto your mouth, your eyes looking mortified. It was as if you were still trying to convince yourself that you didn't want this.

You were so cute. So. Fucking. Cute.

He pulled out again, pushing back in with much more force than before, setting a fast pace. He watched with a perverse amusement, as you let out a choked scream, flailing your arms above your head aimlessly, as if looking for something to grab on to. He fastened his pace, grunts leaving his throat with every thrust.

Your screaming was gradually turning into moans, the undeniable pleasure coursing through you making your head spin. It didn't help how the room was filled with wet slapping sounds from where the two of you kept connecting, the sting from the cut on your stomach barely there anymore. You felt hot, an insatiable thirst in your pussy, being quenched by his unforgiving pace.

His thrusts never once faltered, the bruising grip that he had on your hips starting to hurt — just a bit. He let out a small groan, his eyes once again falling on your stomach, the bulge disappearing and reappearing in it at a comically fast pace. “Hah — look s’fucking cute like t-this — just lying there like a pliant little whore — taking my cock — fuck–”

He was cut off by your pussy clenching around him, his groan cutting through the constant wet slapping from where you both kept connecting. Encouraged by reaction, he sped up, reaching an almost animalistic pace.

Your head was starting to go blank from his pace, the way he continued to pound into your sobbing cunt had you seeing stars. His name left your mouth in a breathy moan, causing his eyes to pop out, him almost spilling his load inside you right then and there.

Without stopping his unforgiving pace, he grabbed your jaw in one hand, his nails digging into your cheeks. “Say it again — c'mon baby, moan my name again — let me hear you, fuck–”

He was cut off by you whimpering, the unmistakable sound of his name leaving your mouth for the second time. With a growl, he gripped both of your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders. The new position allowed him to reach deeper, hitting your spot with every thrust. It had you seeing stars, uncontrollable moans and his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

He reached one of his hands down to rush harsh circles on your hardened bundle of nerves, trying to force an orgasm out of you. “C'mon baby, cum for me — squeeze my cock harder, fucking cum for me–”

The band in your stomach tightened to an impossible level, ready to snap. He pinched your clit, hard, continuing to rub dizzying circles around it. He delivered a harsh slap to it, causing you to finally topple over the edge.

Your ears were filled with a loud ringing noise, vision going white. You clenched around his length, gripping it in a vice like grip. Your cum flowed around his length, coating it completely. He groaned, as he kept pumping in and out of you, a white ring forming at the base of his cock. The sight had him pistoning out of you at a ridiculously fast pace, before burying himself to the hilt inside you. Warm, thick ropes of cum erupted from his tip, painting your insides white. He slowly grinded his hips, still inside you, ensuring that none of it fell out.

He stayed like that for a moment, before pulling out his softening length with a hiss. He fucked his cum back inside with his fingers, enjoying the way your body racked with shudders, little whines escaping you from the sensitivity.

He slowly sat up, admiring your spread out body. He brushed his hand through your hair, rubbing the sweat off your forehead. “You know,” He started, looking down at you with an unsettling smile. “I never fucked anyone I was going to kill before. Never felt attracted enough to them. But you–” He hesitated for a second, before speaking again. “I used to have a crush on you back in college. Remember when I bumped into you once? It was on purpose. I needed an excuse to talk to you. It really hurt me when I realised that you weren't interested in doing so, you know? You were the reason I never went out with anyone, either.”

You gulped, staring back at him. He had an unreadable expression on his face. “I started this — this killing streak, to get your attention. But then I started enjoying it too much — fantasizing what you would look like, all cut up and bleeding prettily for me, begging for me to let you live. It got me so fucking hard, you know? Jerked myself off to that thought so many nights. Until tonight — I knew I had to get you — kill you. Play with you a little first. Didn't think it would escalate to this though.”

He grinned, his eyes holding a kind of craziness that sent a chill down your spine. “Maybe I won't kill you…” He murmured, his hand caressing your cheek. “I’ll just… keep you. My pretty little toy, mine to use and play with, as and how I feel like. Isn't that right, princess?”

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: boyfriend Katsuki's strange guilty pleasure, harassment, nasty online comments, noncon ideations, online pervs

♡ FEM reader

Your laptop’s out of battery, and you have something you need to check—so, instead of waiting for it to charge, you decide to just use Katsuki’s. The guy’s so anal-coded—he has it plugged into the charger every second of every day to avoid running out. 

“I’m borrowing your laptop, Kats!” you call. 

He’s the bath, so you’re not sure he heard you, but also, you don’t think it’s any big deal. You’ve been a couple for years now, and living together has only brought you closer. Besides, it’s not as if you’re going to snoop or anything—you’re just going to check something real quick.

You rethink it when you have to write in his password. Maybe it would be better to just wait for your own machine to get ready—it’s not as if you’re in a hurry or anything. But then again, at the same time, it doesn’t hurt to give it your best guess.

Right on the first try—your name and birthday. Though you appreciate the gesture, he really should see into getting something stronger than that. The information he is privy to through his work is quite sensitive, after all.

But anyway. Onto the task at hand. You click into the browser. It’s already got some tabs open. 

You don’t mean to let your eyes wander, but it just can’t be helped. Katsuki sits before this thing, sometimes for hours during the day. Of course, most of it is surely work-related, writing incident rapports and profiles and the like. But this page right here… you don’t know… something about it seems strange.

“Some type of forum…” you mutter to no one but yourself. Katsuki had never struck you as the type to neither read nor partake in other people’s banter. Again, you’d promised yourself you weren’t going to pry, but it only takes a few seconds to read the comments—it’s over before you can stop yourself.

I bet she’s a squealer, like a really cute squealer

I wanna tie her up in an abandoned building somewhere no one will hear her scream

Same, but not on the bed though, on the floor and take her like a bitch

I‘m sure dynamight fucks her every day, i know i would! 

Dynamight’s such a lucky guy I hate him

You blink reading through the comments—completely having forgotten what you were doing in the first place. Who are these people? What are these comments about? You keep scrolling, eyebrows knit, and then you see it—your name. 

She looks like the type of girl that lets her man fuck her anywhere he wants whenever he wants

I’d literally kill for an hour of having her alone. And I’d make good use of that hour. Make her dump that blond asshat to be with me.

If she were my girlfriend, I’d keep her leashed to the bed with a collar. Can’t have other guys looking at her when she’s mine.

I’d only feed her cum. Trust me, she wouldn’t go hungry.

You’re eyes are fully wide now. Are all these chats about you? What’s Katsuki doing in a place like this? Reading all these sick comments as if he isn’t your boyfriend.

“Hey!” A shout knocks you out of your trance—and startles you enough that it very nearly even knocked you off balance.

“What’re you doin’ on my computer?” he asks in accusation while taking hurried and thundering steps toward you—still wet from his shower, wearing nothing but a white towel around his lower half.

“Uh,” you struggle to find your voice, heart hammering in your chest, head spinning—feeling both caught red-handed and the exact opposite. “Uhm, nothing—I just—”

He rips the laptop off the desk, angry eyes staring at the screen—then quickly going round.

His face pales. You can practically see the goosebumps as they rise in a rush across his skin. 

He swallows thickly, jaw-locked—doesn’t even dare look at you as he asks the question, “Did you read?”

You almost consider saying no but decide against it. This wasn’t something you could just ignore. No, you needed an explanation. Who knows? It might be completely innocent.

“Some of it…” you confess.

He shudders, and then he places the laptop down again, slowly, soundless. He rests his hands on the table and leans his weight on them, head bowed, voice small.

“I just… I… It’s, well…” He scratches the back of his neck, looking for the words.

You’ve never seen him like this before. Katsuki is nervous. But you suppose it’s for good reason.

“It’s not what you think, okay?” he declares, finally looking at you. 

His face is something unfamiliar—riddled with this guilty anxiety you’ve never pictured before—frazzled. It’s completely odd.

“Okay,” you say calmly. You don’t know if you’re angry or not yet. You know you probably should be, but the look on the man’s face is making you feel sorry for him.

“I don’t agree with any of this,” he insists, gesturing to the laptop. 

“Well, yeah, I sure hope so,” you say, although the question still remains, “But why are you on there then?”

“It…” He’s blushing—profusely—bright vermillion-tipped ears and apple-red cheeks. He looks away again. “I don’t know…”

I don’t know is an excuse you’ve never heard come out of his mouth. In fact, excuse or not, it’s a phrase you didn’t think him capable of. But look at him now, using it the same childish way a kid would after being caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You better not lie to me, Katsuki Bakugou—or I know someone who’s sleeping on the couch,” you finally find your strict tone. He’s crazy if he thinks this is something you’ll just forget about.

He sighs and then he falls into his desk chair, back hunched, hiding his face, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you close, nuzzling his head against you, mumbling under his breath, “It’s sick, and it makes me sick…”

You wait, giving him the time to figure it out.

“But it…” he continues. You feel his hands tremble just a bit before he confesses, “It makes me feel good.”

You’re not sure you understand, and so you ask for clarification, “What makes you feel good?”

He sighs again, and this time, his voice comes out dark and lusty, leaving no room for confusion, “To know that I have something everybody else wants.”

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist ♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist ♡ ALL masterlists

[dollyhyuckii]

physical touch with enhypen۟ ׅ ͡ ୨ৎ

강화 ── fem reader!, g • fluff, suggestive ౨ৎ establish relationship, (5 headcanons for each member with dialogue) credits to everyone who did this before me! and credits to the dividers and photos ₊ ˖ ་. ! 𝑫𝑶𝑳𝑳𝒀𝑯𝒀𝑼𝑪𝑲𝑰𝑰𝑺 𝑫𝑰𝑨𝑹𝒀!

秋のメモ… ︵ ︵ ིྀ!, jakes is a little bit short, (im sorry☹️) likes, feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、LEE HEESEUNG | words of admiration ₊ ˖ ་.

• constantly reminding you how much he loves you

“angel, you’re the best thing that’s has ever happened to me, you know that?”

• writing little notes for you and hiding them so you could find it

“check your bag angel, i slipped a little something in there for you.”

• encouraging you when your feeling down or upset

“angel.. don’t be so hard on yourself, your doing so good.. my good girl..”

• always telling you how proud he is of you

“mm yeah angel, im so proud of you, your working so hard.”

• sending you messages to let you know he’s thinking about you

“good morning angel, i hope today is as beautiful as you pretty.”

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 | gift giving ₊ ˖ ་.

• he loves surprising you with gifts he knows you’ll love

“princess, i saw this necklace and it reminded me of you, isn’t it so pretty?”

• leaving presents when he has to leave early for work

“mhm princess, couldn’t let you wake up early without a smile, so i got you this”

• planning surprise dates for you, just to see you smile

“princesses where something comfy, wanna take you somewhere i’ll know you’ll love

• handcrafting gifts for you

“yeah angel .. i made this for you, it might not look the best but it’s special”

• always picking up little things for you when he’s out

“angel, i saw this and thought it would look perfect on you”

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、SIM JAEHYUN | physically touch ₊ ˖ ་.

• holding your hand every chance he gets

“please darling.., don’t let go of me okay?

• hugging you tightly after a long day

“darling come here, i missed you so much today..”

• making sure you’re always by his side, keeping you safe

“stay close to me darling, i’ll keep you safe”

• comforting you when you’re sad, making sure your always in his arms

“darling don’t cry.., im right here, always”

• falling asleep with you in his arms

goodnight darling, sleep well..”

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、PARK SUNGHOON | quality time ₊ ˖ ་.

• spending hours doing things you enjoy together

“baby let’s watch that movie you’ve been talking about all week”

• always making time for you, even when he is busy

“baby i have a free hour, let’s grab coffee later, just the two of us”

• sitting with you in comfortable silence, just the two of you

“baby, you don’t have to talk, just being here with you is enough”

• teaching you stuff he loves, like ice skating

“baby baby.. , hold my hand, it’s okay i won’t let you fall

• going on long walks and talking about everything and anything

“yeah baby, tell me what’s been in your mind lately

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、KIM SUNOO | words of affirmation ₊ ˖ ་.

• showering you with compliments because he can’t get enough of you

“sunshine your so beautiful.., the most prettiest girl, my prettiest girl”

• writing you messages for you on special occasions that always make you cry

“sunshine, the card doesn’t even begin to express how much you mean to me”

• always telling you how much he appreciates you

“sunshine, i don’t know what i would do without you, your truly amazing”

• randomly whispering sweet things in your ear when cuddling

“sunshine, do you know how lucky i am to have you?”

• always finding the perfect words to cheer you up

“sunshine .. the sun shines brighter when you smile, so don’t stop okay?”

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、YANG JUNGWON | act of service ₊ ˖ ་.

• he will always notice the little things you struggle with and takes care of them without being asked

“you looked tired sweetheart, so I packed your bag for you, don’t forget to your water bottle this time”

• helping you with things around the house, you don’t necessarily like doing

“sweetheart let me do the dishes tonight, you relax alright?”

• always making sure your comfortable

“is the blanket okay sweetheart, i don’t want you catching a cold”

• cooking your favorite meals, even when he’s busy

“sweetheart come here, i made your favorite, taste it and tell me if it’s good”

• picking up things you forgot and bringing them to you

“sweetheart, you left your lipgloss at my house, i brought it for you”

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、NISHIMURA RIKI | physical touch ₊ ˖ ་.

• linking pinky’s with you when you two walk

“baby this is our thing now, our little handshake”

• burying his face in your neck when he feels sleepy

“baby… just let me stay like this for a little longer”

• squeezing your hand gently when he knows your nervous

“ baby im right here okay?, you’ve got this baby”

• resting his hand on your thigh, while sitting next to you, he always needs to be close to you

“baby don’t look at me like that.. it’s just comfortable”

• kissing your hand softly before leaving

“baby i’ll see you later okay?, take care of yourself for me”

©dollyhyuckii ꒰ do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without permission ۟ ׅ ͡ ୨ৎ

[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part five

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x reader | WC: 6k | warnings: general angst, canon violence, blood, loose medical stuff that likely doesn’t make sense

Summary: avoiding Azriel only works for so long when he uses Rhysand to get you to see Eris one more time. You’re more than shocked when your meeting is ambushed, wounds making you reconsider things.

A/N: we’re insecure, and we don’t know what for! Anyway please enjoy 💕

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After Azriel had left you in the bathroom, you stood there for what had to have been hours, the last remnants of his warmth clinging to the air around you. You had never felt so alone, his rejection an intense sting you were certain branded your soul.

Your chest felt heavy with his presence. At some point in the night you had finally figured out how to shut him out. The iron was heavy as it shackled your heart, cutting off the mate who was supposed to protect you, not knowing he was who you needed protection from.

Sleep didn’t come to you that night and it was a battle the next night to sleep for even a few hours. Your mind felt stale and stagnated, yearning for the fixation that was his journals. Azriel had given the most recent one to you just before rejecting you, not even having the chance to crack the spine yet. His confession that Eris was above you still stung too much.

You spent most of your time outside of work now laying in bed, unable to stop your thoughts from analyzing every angle of your entire relationship with Azriel. You hardly slept, no idea how much time had passed in the stillness of your grief.

Rotting in bed was an option both Nesta and the House did not appreciate - the latter stopped giving you full meals, the former making her way into your room this afternoon informing you that you would be seen at dinner so she had proof you were alive and eating.

The last people you wanted to see were happily mated couples, practically rubbing their mateship in your face just by existing. The Mother was surely testing you in some way, and you weren’t sure if you could handle the outcome of failing.

You had left your room one singular night during your solitude. The moon had been bright through the windows as you snuck to the library, leaving a note for Clotho to deliver a book on failed mating bonds to your room in the House of Wind.

It was an unusual request, but you knew Clotho would do it. You spent many nights in the library pouring over textbooks, dropping off various sweets for Clotho and the other priestesses in offering and thanks for their help.

By the next afternoon the book was on your bedside table, placed there by the house no doubt to ease your embarrassment from the nosey eyes of Cassian. Now the book on broken bonds sat on top of the last journal you had gotten from Azriel, taunting you with your future within its pages.

They were all going to find out eventually that Azriel had rejected you, but that left you in an even more impossible situation. Reaching out for comfort from your friends meant Azriel’s secret mating with Eris became public knowledge. No matter how mad or upset you were with the both of them, that was a line you refused to cross.

Would Nesta and Cassian kick you out? If Azriel didn’t want you, surely you’ve lost the friendships you’ve made the past few years with his family?

Maybe you’ll move to Spring. Tamlin surely won’t notice if you just picked a spot and built a house.

You put your head in your hands, wanting to claw the possibilities out to find which one would save you from this grief.

Your self imposed isolation hadn’t kept you safe from seeing Azriel. You had asked Cassian to fly you home from work, a job he did with delight. You avoided dinners, changed your entire schedule to maximize your potential to avoid him.

And yet you’d pass him in the hallway, see him in the stairs, and find him in the kitchen. He was everywhere, each appearance only pissing you off further. Every time you ignored him, even going so far as to bump him with your shoulder when passing by.

But he never said anything. Just looked in your direction, his eyes not catching the light like they used to. His shadows don’t even follow you around anymore. They clung to Azriel like a second skin as if holding him upright.

Were you a failure? Had any other fae had such a short mating? Was it even truly a mating?

Your anger had been simmering for a while, but now as you descended the steps to dinner, your rage was palpable, nearly carrying it with you like Azriel does with his shadows. You craved it, needed it to hold you through seeing him, having to pretend he hasn’t laughed in the face of the Mother and carved out your heart.

But your anger was for naught as you approached the dining room. Azriel wasn’t there amongst the faces of his family, a rarity for the House of Wind. Usually dinners consisted of Nesta, Cassian, and Azriel, but tonight Rhys and Feyre were in attendance, a small Nyx situated on Feyre’s left.

Your fury tampered down, taking it off the heat and letting it cool down as you walked in, all eyes turning to you.

“Just in time! Now can we eat, Nes?” Cassian was impatient, his fork already in hand, clearly waiting for the second you showed up.

“Let her sit down first, Cassian.” Rhysand laughed. “Or perhaps you’re going to gnaw on her legs, hm?”

The growl of Cassian’s stomach rippled through the air, his body’s own testament to the discomfort it felt.

“Go ahead and dig in, I wouldn’t want Cassian to starve.” Cassian let out a ‘thank you’ between mouthfuls as you sat across from Nesta. She watched as you sat, her eyes tracking as you picked up the tongs to plate your food. She didn’t relax until you began eating, and even then it was only enough for her to eat.

You watched her watch you, confused about her intensity, not even paying attention to Rhys and Feyre’s light teasing of each other.

It was wonderful that they had happiness with each other. Good for them. You stabbed your chicken with a bit more force, chewing slowly, putting on a show for whatever Nesta was watching for.

“Azriel should be back in time tomorrow.” It was almost comical how quickly your ears tuned into the conversation at his name.

“In time for what? What’s going on tomorrow?” It was the first words you had spoken, and you didn’t notice the glances they all shot to each other. Rhys turned his attention to you, violet eyes kind as he spoke.

“You and Azriel will be seeing Eris tomorrow.”

“We are?” The incredulity of your tone could be heard from streets away, other family dinners halting at the annoyed tone that floated on the breeze.

“Yes, he told me Eris is quite chatty with you. Azriel left word that Eris had something important to share and that it was urgent the two of you met with him.”

You blinked a few times, trying to push your anger aside to make way for the bewilderment. Had Eris called for this? Or was it Azriel, finally wishing to put an end to this?

Your heart hammered, the string around it pulsating tighter, worried it would be broken and left unraveled to slosh around inside your chest for eternity.

“Maybe Eris likes you.” Cassian made kissing sounds at you. Your eyes remained fixed on Rhysand, as if the longer you looked the more answers you’d get. He tilted his head, the slight caress of a claw tapping onto your mental shields the only thing to get you out of your trance.

“Don’t be gross, Cass.” Feyre chided despite her giggles. “I don’t think he’s capable of enjoying anything.”

“Eris likes fresh blood.”

“So did Amren.”

“Rhys, I’m not sure if I should go.” You broke up their joking, finally responding to Rhys’s prodding. You were pleading with your High Lord, trying to make him understand you can’t.

“I know he’s a bit much, but if Azriel’s right and Eris has some soft spot for you, it’d be in our best interest to exploit it.”

How far Cassian had been from the truth. Eris would delight in nothing more than ripping out your arteries with his teeth.

You nodded silently, looking back to your plate, pushing the peas around. You don’t say another word, you’re not even keeping watch of Nesta before retiring for the evening.

-

Rhysand hadn’t given you a time to expect to leave, so you spent the morning working with Madja, telling her you’d have to leave at noon to attend to some affairs Rhysand had asked of you. The older fae was annoyed, her wrinkles deepening, but she kept her mouth shut before walking off, muttering something about young males in power.

A few patients had come in, mostly to have previous injuries checked for an all clear. The cold snap in Velaris had left several fae slipping on ice, many twisted ankles keeping you busy the past few weeks.

You left promptly at noon, saying goodbye to Madja before heading out. Seeing your most recent patients had you checking every step for ice, ensuring sure footing before fully putting your weight down as you headed to the end of the road, already seeing the tips of Cassian’s wings.

You bundled yourself in your coat, burying your face into your scarf as you began mentally preparing yourself for seeing Azriel. Eris you could handle - he was cruel, but manageable. He never pretended to be something he wasn’t. But Azriel kept popping in and out, handling you delicately and with care before shattering you unexpectedly. Your heart was beating faster at the thought of seeing him, while also sinking deep into your stomach.

Your eyes followed the cobblestones, being mindful of any patches of ice, too busy to notice until you were right in front of him that it wasn’t Cassian you had seen. His blue chest siphon m was the first thing you saw, a soft expletive leaving your lips before you could stop it.

“Hello to you too.”

You finally looked up, his shadows peeking out from the collar of his leathers, tracing up his neck in beautiful patterns. You nodded in greeting.

“Where’s Cassian?”

“We’re heading straight for Spring, so I told him I could come by and get you.”

It was painfully silent as the two of you stood there, Azriel’s head moving constantly to try to catch your eye. His annoyance flared up in your chest, and you were too absorbed in it to shut it down.

“Talk to me.” His voice was pleading, but with a sharp edge.

“I don’t want to.” Your tone was petulant, a childishness to it that was uncommon.

“Why not?”

“You’ve made your opinion of me very clear. Besides, don’t you need Eris’s permission to talk to me first?” He sighed, the siphon on his chest glowing slightly. “Surely he’ll be upset you had to hold onto me to winnow here. Maybe he’ll have soap on hand to scrub your hands of me once and for all.”

“You’re being childish.”

“Can we just get this over with? I know why we’re here and I don’t exactly want to linger for a long time.”

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up at the curtness in your tone, but you couldn’t be bothered with niceties anymore. You were exhausted of chasing after him, begging for his attention, just for it to always be on Eris. The sooner this was over, the sooner you could move on.

He reached his hands out, gently scooping you into his arms. You took care not to dive nose first into his neck like last time, not wanting his scent to overpower you or make you spiral further.

The bond inside of you was rattling in your ribcage, desperate for you to fight, to snark, to do something to get Azriel’s attention. But you blocked it out, only looking ahead for the entirety of the flight.

The two of you landed in the familiar spot, an earthy scent clinging to the air. The spot was empty, and you felt Azriel’s stomach drop in disappointment at the knowledge through the bond. Your hand rubbed across your face before you quickly tampered down the bond, not wanting to know how they’re feeling about this.

The two of you waited for several minutes. The chittering of the forest was loud, heightening the awkward silence. It was so green and bright in Spring, the plant growth nearly blinding after the intense snowfall Night had been experiencing.

You felt Azriel’s eyes on you, hazel irises unwilling to depart from your form. Your name was a soft exhale from his lips, a pleading tone that would have sent past you spiraling. It only furthered your resolve.

“Don’t do that. I’m only here out of duty to Rhysand. My High Lord asked this of me, and frankly, it’ll likely be the last time Eris ever sees me.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means I’m done. Clearly the Mother was wrong and clearly you and Eris both know that. It’s just taken me until now to figure that out myself.”

“That’s not true.”

You finally looked at him. Your beautiful, beautiful mate, who had always been so kind to you. He had been nothing more than a charade, a carefully crafted story to deter from his actual mate. You straightened your shoulders to gather your words, trying to voice your exact thoughts.

“No, Azriel. I’m done being your second choice, I’m done being strung along. I don’t want that for me, and as my mate, you shouldn’t want it either. So treat me with the respect I deserve and recognize I’m only here because of Rhys’s asking. You and Eris have made your opinions of me very clear.”

Azriel opened his mouth, but rage flew from yours. The dam had broken, and now a flood was headed directly for the shadowsinger.

“Was it just so I wouldn’t say anything about you and Eris? Was that why you kept stringing me along? Keep your precious bond between you and Eris, keep it to yourselves, I no longer want any part of it.” It felt incredible to say the words aloud, to try to get the point across. But his face twisted with anger, his wings twitching behind him.

“You were never just a secret keeper. You’re my friend, you’re important to me. I told you about Eris in an effort to show you something! I’m trying to reprioritize, but it’s hard.”

For the first time in ages, a shadow moved from Azriel’s body, swirling around you. You were too caught up to notice the little thing, its attempts to calm you down failing.

“Azriel, when have you ever prioritized me? Every time something happens, you’re gone.”

“What do you want me to do? Eris is my mate.”

“And what am I?”

The question cut through Azriel, slicing between his ribs, the pain fracturing through his chest. He didn’t get a chance to reply before Eris materialized in the woods.

Eris was in more regal attire now, a vest covering his tunic that was likely thousands of hours of embroidery. The stiff collar made his jawline seem sharper, his features even more cutting in such regalia. Eris blended into the trees, making the natural world bend a knee to his beauty.

“I see the two of you are incapable of leaving me alone.” He didn’t even look at the pair of you, looking instead at his manicured nails. Filed to a point, the red polish made it look as if blood were dripping from his fingertips.

“Eris, stop.”

“It’s fine, Azriel. I came on your invitation, after all. What is this most pressing matter?”

“We need to talk.”

“Think of that all by yourself?”

“Shut up, Eris. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know anything going on in your life as of late.”

You looked up, surprised at that tidbit. Maybe you weren’t the only one uncertain of where you stood with the shadowsinger.

“I’m trying to figure it out, Eris.” Azriel’s words were icy, coming from some deep, dark depths of himself.

“What is there to figure out?”

The pause after Eris’s question was too still. The forest was quiet, all birdsong gone. Not even insect chittering to fill the gaps. The world was still outside of the three of you. You looked up into the canopy above you, a chill going down your spine.

“Azriel, I asked you-“

The sound that cut off Eris was a quick burst of wind as an arrow came whizzing past. Azriel was the first to move, pushing you onto the ground, his body laying on top of yours, sheltering you. You pushed against him, trying to get up, trying to see, but he wasn’t budging. Panic flooded you as his wings formed a cocoon around the two of you, what should have been a womb of safety felt more like a cage.

Wood splintered as arrows hit trees, impossible to tell how many fae were targeting the three of you. It sounded like hundreds of arrows, each whizzing past at speeds that could easily kill.

Your breathing quickened as a new worry overtook you: had Azriel been shot? Was he injured?

And where was Eris?

Azriel grunted into your ear, his body jolting. His arms cradled your head, not even a slither of light coming through. This darkness was so different from the one that followed Azriel. It felt nearly suffocating, not even his shadows pittered about in it. It felt cold and hopeless

You could hear the roar of flames beyond the shelter of Azriel’s body, the crackling getting closer to the pair of you. Sweating and breathing heavy, it felt like Azriel’s body weighed even more. You tried to push him off again, but your ragged breathing made it even harder.

Something reached through Azriel’s body, a warm touch gripping your wrist. A flicker of light made it through, not enough for you to see anymore than a blinding white. Suddenly the world shifted, the mud beneath you hardening into wood floors. Azriel’s body was heavier now, his weight digging into you.

“Push.” A muffled voice came from somewhere beyond Azriel, nearly muffled by his body. Fear struck through you - was this whoever had ambushed you? Was Azriel the intended target and you were simply a bystander?

Or was Eris the target, carted off to some court while they dealt with the witnesses?

Despite the panic, your heart tugged in the direction of the voice, practically guiding your arms to push Azriel from you. As you did, more and more light filtered to your eyes, his shadows clinging tight to his body, securing their master’s wounds.

Pale hands wrapped around Azriel’s torso, and you thought you’d never be so happy to see the ring clad fingers of the Vanserra. It took a moment, but Eris was able to lift Azriel enough for you to crawl out from beneath him.

You glanced over Eris, the only injury to be seen were cuts on his face and arms. Relief flooded you at the sight of him, your breaths still shallow. You felt the adrenaline coursing through your veins, only speeding up with the lack of danger. The cabin was dark around you, the place seeming more empty than when you were here last.

“Aren’t you a healer?” Eris had been speaking to you for several moments by this point, his words a buzzing you couldn’t make out until now.

“Yes.”

“Then help him.”

You were frozen, unable to do anything other than look at your hands. You had never been in combat before - during the Battle of Hybern you had been left in the city to run the clinic, the only one left behind.

Azriel’s blood was on your hands, sinking into your skin. Are your bones marked red now?

“Useless.” Eris was a wildfire, moving quickly down the hall before coming back, his arms full of tonics and bandages. The sight snapped you back, your thoughts coming in full force at what to do. You stood, moving quickly to stop Eris.

“Stop, you need to give him some pain medication first.” You rifled through the bottles and bits, each of Azriel’s labored breaths making your heart sink further and further.

“No, we need the arrows out of his back, they’re killing him.”

“I can give him some medicine to manage the pain first. Removing the arrows will mean we’ll have to act quick to stop the blood. It’s better to give him something for the pain now.” Your voice took a sharp edge, the commanding tone of someone in charge. “Then we take out the arrows in his wings.”

Eris’s face was hard as he looked toward you, no doubt hating you even more. Azriel dove to protect you - his state now should have been you. You found the bottle you needed, it’s not as strong as you’d like, but it’s the best you can do.

“Azriel, you have to swallow this.” Your hand gently caressed his cheek, letting him know someone was there. He slowly opened his mouth, allowing you to pour the purple liquid down it. The grimace he made almost made you laugh, like this were any other time, having him eat something unappetizing because Nesta had made it.

Fire stung at your fingers, but you ignored Eris as Azriel finished the potion.

“Okay, we need to trim off the tops of the arrows so we can pull them out more easily. Eris, find a knife and use your fire to sterilize it.”

He started to open his mouth, but you leveled him with a stare that had him quickly closing it.

“Are you going to waste our time by second guessing everything I tell you? If you bothered to let Azriel tell you anything you would know I work directly beneath the court’s healer and am quite competent.”

Eris’s sharp canines protruded from his mouth, a low growl emitting from him, but no more protests as he heated a knife.

“Az, we’re going to cut off the arrow heads and remove them from your wings. Can you stretch your wings out for me?” You rubbed your thumb across his cheek, trying to offer any tenderness he could hold onto.

He nodded so softly you hardly noticed it, his wing unfurling ever so slowly. It didn’t extend fully, but he got about three fourths of the way there.

“I’m going to help you stretch it out this last bit, okay? I need to see all of your wings to help.” You sent a light pulse of what you hoped was soothing down the bond before closing it off again, bending to rest on your knees as you sat in front of his left wing.

Several arrows had pierced through the delicate membrane, but only four remained caught in his wings. You swallowed down your guilt - it wasn’t what Azriel needed now. He needed Madja’s apprentice, not his rejected mate right now. You took a deep breath before extending his wing further, ignoring Azriel’s groans of pain.

“Eris, hold his wing taut.” The uncertainty slipped off like a second skin, making way for the commanding presence you took on for the care of your patients. Once Eris had his wing, you took the hot knife from his hand, quickly and methodically snipping off the heads of the arrows, making sure to hold the base to keep it stabilized before pulling each one out.

You pulled the wood slowly, trying to keep the wood from grazing his skin again. Each arrow went into a pile behind you until his left wing was clean of them, the holes they left the only reminder of them. The two of you repeated the process for his right wing, this one only having three arrows in it, the extraction going much more quickly.

“Is he still awake?” Eris shuffled before a grunt of agreement came from Azriel.

“Azriel, we have to move to the arrows on your back. It’s going to hurt, but we’re going to move fast.” You looked back to the bottles of potions Eris had found, searching for anything that could help Azriel clot faster or sanitize the wounds.

“Why didn’t we do his back first? It’s worse and the arrows are draining him.”

“Because I’m not sure how much blood he’s going to lose. It was a 50/50 gamble, either way.”

“A gamble? Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Of course I know what I’m doing, Eris! I’m dealing with a squabbling family member who thinks they know better and are keeping me from my job. My job right now is to save his life, not argue with you over semantics. Now either shut up or get out.”

You don’t even watch to see his response, your attention solely on Azriel again. Your hands worked of their own accord, rubbing potions across his back, careful around the protruding arrows. You eventually looked up to find Eris just staring at you.

“Have him drink this.”

Eris took the vial, coaxing it down Azriel’s throat, murmuring softly to the shadowsinger.

“Do you have any towels or rags? We’ll need as many as you have.” Your hands felt down his back, his skin riddled with scars, each one telling a story. You couldn’t fixate on them - how the small nick by his third rib was made by steel a little over a century ago. The sideways gash across his fourth vertebrae made from a carbon blade roughly twenty years prior.

You focused on his current wounds, pinpointing how far the arrows have lodged themselves. You closed your eyes, feeling for his body. A path unfurled in your mind’s eye, following the layers of tissue and muscle the arrow penetrated.

Both arrows avoided the soft, delicate organs housed in his chest, but the longer they stayed inside, the likelihood they’d cause more damage to him.

“Eris, as I remove the arrows, I need you to immediately place rags on the wound. The arrow didn’t pierce any organs, but it cut through several veins. Is Azriel still awake?”

“Yes,” it came out as a croak, so different from Eris’s usual snark and calm.

Eris was ready as you pulled the arrow out, quick and unflinching. A spurt of blood followed the arrow, shooting onto you before Eris covered the wound.

“I can either move onto the next one or start trying to close this one up.” You were muttering to yourself, trying to decide on a course of action.

“The faebane in the arrowhead will make his healing take longer, it’d be better to pull it out.”

The faebane from the arrows was already swimming through Azriel’s bloodstream, but Eris was right - the sooner it comes out, the better for Azriel. You nodded to Eris.

“Right. Keep holding pressure while I pull this other one out. Then we’ll switch sides and I’ll start working on healing him.”

The second arrow was much messier, Eris’s rags darkening with blood much more quickly. The air held a copper tang that was getting stronger by the minute, your concern rising with it.

“Eris, do you know how to count heartbeats?” You don’t even watch for a response before you start explaining. “Count how many times his heart beats for a minute, and then keep repeating. After a few times you’ll know if his heart rate is steady or not.”

You focused on one wound at a time, magic making its way through Azriel’s skin, slowly stitching up the path of destruction the arrowhead forged. It was slow work, his body fighting against the faebane with every breath.

Every ten minutes or so you made Eris help Azriel drink water, hoping the fluids will help wash out the toxin. Each time he did, he’d also make a call out of Azriel’s heart rate.

Azriel remained unconscious, his heart rate changing drastically every few minutes. It had dropped quickly a time or two, causing Eris to panic, but Azriel’s heart rate never got below a threshold, always staying where it could manage.

The sun had set at some point, the cabin surrounded by darkness. Your hands ached from stillness, your joints crying out to move even just a little, but you refused, remaining steadfast. You were a conduit for the magic that lived inside you, magic that was slowly stitching Azriel back together again.

“Here.” Eris sat next to you, holding the cup of water before your face. You hadn’t heard him move, too focused on Azriel. You shook your head, pointedly looking down to your hands.

“I can’t.”

“I can help you.” You looked to find a new expression on his face, something you’re not sure anyone had ever seen on the male. As much as cruelty sharpened his cheekbones, the softness of his eyes made him nearly blinding in the moonlight. You nodded, unable to speak. He held the cup up to your lips, the cold liquid refreshing as it trailed down your throat. Your hands remained on Azriel, but you gulped down the entire cup, not realizing just how parched you were.

Eris pulled the cup away, settling in next to you. More time passed, all of it a blur as you kept your focus on Azriel. Neither of you spoke. Azriel’s face was pale, from blood loss or his shadows having gone missing, you’re not sure.

You slumped back against the couch, rolling your stiff neck. Azriel’s wounds weren’t perfectly healed, but your magic had repaired his blood vessels enough to allow you a break.

It was easy to get swept up in healing - you have a focus, a goal. You know what steps to take next. But as Azriel’s breathing remained strong and steady, yours became shallow. The reality of the day hitting you all at once, Eris’s warmth from next to you making you feel claustrophobic.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Your words were quiet, not much louder than Azriel’s breathing. He was still so close to you, his eyes closed as he laid there. He looked so peaceful.

A month ago you would have salivated at the idea of touching him for hours, but now the smell of his blood made you want to throw up the contents of your stomach.

“He’s yours, Eris. I can’t - you won. I’ll go away, move to the continent to be as far away as possible.” A soft confession that had been lingering in the back of your mind the whole day. You were foolish to believe you could best Eris, completely underestimating the deep well Azriel and Eris’s mating bond ran to.

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“You despise me. If you feel anything like I do, you want me gone.”

Eris was still, his heat nearly unbearable despite the distance between you two. It was so hard to breathe around him, as if he were drawing in all the air for himself.

“He doesn’t want me. I’m tired of fighting for his attention when his mind always goes back to you. He was my friend for so long, and the fact he can just toy with me like this.. I’m not sure how to handle it.”

All you could hear was Eris’s breathing, but you knew he was listening.

“He was my friend and now I’m- well, I don’t know what I am. He’s going to pick you, Eris. He doesn’t want me.”

The confession you had been holding so tight slipped from your tongue like silk. The words sent the bond in your chest into a chorus of screams, their agony the perfect soundtrack to your turmoil.

“Say the word and he’s yours.”

For once, Eris was quiet, no words coming from his mouth. He only shook his head, the movement so precise and imperceptible you thought you dreamt it. You looked back at Azriel, needing to prepare to winnow the two of you away.

Coated in his blood, you had to leave sooner rather than later - Rhysand is surely on the cusp of worry, and there was only so much explaining you could do without forfeiting the cabin.

You watched Eris as you grabbed Azriel’s hands, his eyes reflecting all the hurt you’ve felt the past few weeks. Eris was the easy choice to be mad at - you were tied to Azriel, Eris was just some male tethered to the other end of your mate. But watching him keep his gaze on Azriel, some part of your anger to the redhead cracked, allowing the words to come from you.

“I’ll bring him back to you. He’ll be okay.”

“Thank you.”

Eris’s face hardened as the world blurred, your grip on Azriel strong as the ground gave out beneath you, the wood flooring exchanged for the hard stone of the House of Wind. The two words followed you through space and time, ringing in your ears.

Those two words broke you completely, every ounce of sorrow and pain breaking through. There were no soft cries, only guttural wailing.

It was Nesta you saw first, having followed the loud commotion throughout the house. She found you gripping Azriel, softly crying out to him before she pulled deep in her chest to get Cassian’s attention.

She crouched next to you, wrapping her arms around your shoulder as fat tears rolled down your face.

The bond cried out in pain, practically pleading with you to change your decision, but you knew it was the right choice. Once he healed enough, you’d sever it. You had to. Someone had to put an end to the madness, and you could do what Azriel couldn’t.

Azriel almost died because of this stupid arrangement.

Too lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice when Cassian or Rhysand arrived, their voices indistinguishable to the inner anguish you felt. You were exhausted, your soul crying out in pain. You swore you could hear tiny cries echoing how you felt.

Through the thick fog of your thoughts, you heard Cassian’s voice clear as a bell.

“I bet Eris is behind this. Bastard tricked us.” You crouched over Azriel, becoming even more defensive of the Illyrian. It was a ridiculous stance, trying to shield him from his brother, but you couldn’t help it.

“It wasn’t Eris.” It came out more as a snarl that sent Cassian reeling back. “I don’t know who, but they- it was bad and- Eris winnowed us away to some clearing.”

Your pleas were gut wrenching, anger dissipating and making way for what you had pushed too far down to heal him.

“Azriel’s bandaged.”

“Eris left and got us supplies. He came back for us. He wouldn’t do this, you have to believe me.” You were sobbing now, clutching Azriel’s arm to your chest like that would fix everything. Your breaths were quick, bringing in enough air to sob once more.

“He didn’t - and Azriel-“ arms wrapped you from behind, gently pulling you into their embrace. The smell of leather and sweat enveloped you, Cassian’s strong arms slowly pulling you from Azriel.

You were blubbering now, mostly cries of Eris’s name over and over. You were scared and full of guilt for Azriel, but your mind kept playing that tender moment between Eris and Azriel over and over again. Your heart cried out for the redhead, a deep well of sadness that you had to pull him away from his mate.

Footsteps retreated away from you, but you reached out, clinging to Azriel’s sleeve to remind yourself he was still there.

Header by @tsunami-of-tears 💕

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If you want to be tagged or aren’t being tagged, let me know ❣️

A/N: if you’ve read this far, just know I’m a bit on the fence about this part so don’t be mean to me 🔫

[cybrasigilism]

Could you write a threesome with Nam-gyu and Thanos but Reader and Nam-gyu are topping Thanos?

Thanks!

-👽

You On Me, Me On You, You On Her (Thanos + Nam-gyu X F!Reader ONESHOT)

warning: smut | 🌽 no plot | not proofread | lowercase intended | ménage à trois | possibly OOC | f!reader | face-sitting | handjob | oral (f! receiving) | degradation | these are my interpretations of these characters, please be respectful even if my opinions of the characters differ from your own

characters: thanos (player 230), nam-gyu (player 124)

A/N: this is my first time writing for dom reader in a non headcanon format, wish me luck! also i 1000% got the title from Bounce by timbaland, of course 😈🙏

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

the air hung heavy with lust; sounds of sex and sweet ecstasy filling up the room as you, thanos and nam-gyu were partaking in your favourite activity.

poor thanos, he decided to get cocky and tease the two of you earlier; look where that landed him. moments ago, he was certain he had you both wrapped around his finger, and now he was truly at your mercy. with your pussy smothering his face, and nam-gyu fisting his dick, surely he would think twice before testing you guys again.

you had to admit, you could really get used to using thanos’s mouth like this. all that smooth talking he did clearly served him well; he was utterly phenomenal with his tongue. maybe the desperation came into play for the particular occasion, but you didn’t care. you preferred that, as a matter of fact. his rhythm was totally thrown, but you chalked that up to the fact that nam-gyu was for sure edging him at this point. his pained moans muffled by your sitting on his face, nam-gyu seemed to be enjoying this as much as you were.

“aww, ‘s it too much?” he taunted, lightly squeezing thanos’s cock, causing him to whimper into you. “can’t take it?” you weren’t surprised nam-gyu was being a jerk, but it was all in good fun. the sheer level of nam-gyu’s bullying made thanos dig his nails into your thighs, earning a slap from you.

“getting bold are we?” you breathed, rising from his face as he whined. “do i need you to show me why you deserve my pussy again, if you want to be a brat like that?” thanos was so overwhelmed with pleasure at this point; god, look at him he was practically crying. nam-gyu followed your lead, continuing on with the ceaseless teasing. “yeah, i think someone needs to be told how to act right— seeing as he wants to be a little bitch.”

“you’re right.” you agree, cocking your head as you look down at thanos, who even while half lidded still had a face riddled with desperation. “beg for it.” “p-pl-please… i wanna taste ya..s’ bad.” fuck, he could hardly speak he was so blissed out. you decided that you’ve been mean and, what the hell, he was fantastic at eating you.. so back on his face you sat. now that the routine was back in motion, you took no mercy in riding his face. but it was fine, both you and nam-gyu knew that thanos loved being your little bitch.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

gotta love some submissive thanos content! thank you so much for this request anon, it was fun to write dom!reader in a oneshot format! apologies if i made the reader too mean, i kind of just let loose with this one.

as per usual, if you have any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing it is greatly appreciated and requested! have a fantastic day/night lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @kouzih @strangelife122 @kvstjwonnie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga @gabbystinks

[just1cefor4ll]

A rare kind of love

Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader

warning. I don’t really know the reason of Dae-ho’s debt so I made something up other then that no warnings

genre. hurt comfort

Shadows stretched across the floor, where the sleeping figures of players shifted in their deep slumber, the tension in the room never ceasing, not even in their sleep. But being next to Dae-ho, keeping watch for the night as everyone else slept was something that brought you a bit of comfort even in these tough circumstances. Dae-ho sat a few feet away, his elbows on his knees, eyes quietly sweeping over the restless forms. You watched him for a moment, his calm and steady presence oddly warm in a place like this. It was strange how much trust you’d built with someone you barely knew—someone you’d met under conditions that could kill you both.

“You know,” you said finally, breaking the silence, “I used to stay up late like this back at home. Not for anything important—mostly just lying in bed, stressing over things I couldn’t fix.” You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Guess that habit didn’t really help me in the long run.”

“I could say the same thing about myself. The marines made me develop insomnia so I never really slept after i got back— but I guess I’ve gotten a bit better with the help of my sisters” He replied, giving you a soft smile which you returned with a hint of curiosity in your eyes. “You have sisters? How many?” “Four. All of them are older and I’m thankful to them for being who I am now.. though I can’t say everyone in my family is proud of how I turned out.” It was like his mask had faltered for a split second, his shoulders slumping and eyes looking like a disappointed child.

You didn’t push further, staying in comfortable silence, only the soft snores os players and shuffling of those who were having nightmares in their beds.

“Sorry uh—“ “[Name] [Last Name]” You cut him off with a smile but make a shh gesture with your pointer finger. “Don’t let the others know my name, only you and Jun-hee are the ones I trust to the fullest with this information.” You wink playfully before letting him go on— his face starstruck as you looked at him with a face no one has ever looked at him with. “Right, [Name]. How’d you end up in here? I mean you seem pretty smart to me so proper education is something you have no doubt.. so?”

You hesitated, wondering if you should even say it. But what was the point of holding back now? It wasn’t like secrets mattered in a place like this. “Debt.. a lot of it. Just like everyone here I made bad choices, bad timing… one thing snowballed into another. And then—” You paused, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. “Well, here I am.” You smile sheepishly, but your once beaming energy did die down a bit. “I was a psychologist.. It payed very well but with my poor choices and actions I lost my job and I fell into the arms of gambling where I lost it all.”

He didn’t interrupt, letting you keep talking.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “I figured I’d win back just enough to cover everything. I thought, ‘What’s the harm in trying?’” You shook your head. “Turns out, the harm is a mountain of debt and a bunch of very angry people coming after you. Then my mom got sick, and the hospital bills started piling up. Insurance only covered so much, you know? So, I started taking out loans to keep up.” You leaned back against the rail, staring at the ceiling as the memories came rushing back

He didn’t say anything right away, just nodded slowly, his expression was sympathetic and no hint of judgment was evident either which you appreciated.

“I was out of options,” you continued, your voice softer now. “So when this… game showed up, I thought, ‘Why not? I’ve got nothing left to lose.’”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence. Then, Dae-ho spoke, his voice calm but edged with something you couldn’t quite place. “It’s easy to fall into, isn’t it? Debt. Mistakes. Feels like one bad move and your whole life spirals out of control.” “Yeah,” you said, glancing over at him. “Something like that. What about you? How’d you end up in the marines is my first question.. I mean why’d your sisters let their precious brother get into the hands of such a traumatic thing? Respect to you though! I wouldn’t be able to handle it any better than you so I’m very proud of you for serving the country, soldier.” You teased, looking at him with a big smile.

He hesitated, his eyes dropping to the railing, though a slight chuckle did manage to escape his lips from your silly nickname. For a moment, you thought he might brush off the question, but then he let out a soft sigh. “My dad,” he started, his voice quiet. “He wanted a ‘real man’ for a son. Someone strong, someone tough. But I wasn’t what he wanted.” You frowned. “What do you mean?” “Like I’ve mentioned before, I grew up with four older sisters,” he said, a faint, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “They were the ones who raised me, really. Taught me how to cook, how to listen, how to be patient. I guess I turned out too… soft for my dad’s taste. He’d look at me and see failure. Said I’d never make it in the real world unless I ‘toughened up.’”

You could hear the bitterness in his voice, even though he tried to hide it.

“So he sent me to the Marines,” Dae-ho continued, his gaze distant. “Said they’d make a man out of me. And I guess they did. But they also…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “They took the parts of me that my sisters had built. Replaced them with someone who could fight. Someone who could kill. And when I got out, I didn’t even know who I was anymore. The marines take your spark.. or at least dim it with all they got.”

“What happened after that?” you asked gently.

He hesitated again, his fingers curling loosely around the railing. “When I got back my sisters were more than happy to see me but they knew I was different. It was a bit awkward at first but they got through to me and got me to go to therapy for a while but bills started piling up. I tried working—construction, private security—but the flashbacks made it impossible to hold a job."

He looked down at his hands, as if trying to remember a time they weren’t shaking. "I kept borrowing money to keep my head above water, but no matter how much I tried, it was never enough. My dad called me weak for struggling. Sisters tried to help, but I couldn’t let them. Too much pride, too much of him in me, I guess."

“I came here,” he said finally, “because it felt like the only thing left. At least here, I could do something. I could try and make my father proud.” For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then you reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “You didn’t deserve any of that,” you said quietly. He looked at you, surprised, and for a moment, the guarded expression fell away. “Maybe not,” he said softly. “But it’s done now. All I can do is try to keep moving forward, survive this place and get my life together.”

You nodded, your grip on his arm tightening slightly. “We’ll figure it out. Together.” You said and squeezed his hand, laying your head on his shoulder. “We’ll get out and open up a small shop.. we can sell whatever we can think of and buy a small house on Hyepjae beach. I’ve always wanted to visit Jeju, haven’t you?” You rambled, completely forgetting the fact how you were just mere strangers a few days ago. He nodded, putting a over your shoulders, holding you close. “I’d love that.. more then anything.”

You looked up at him, and his heart nearly stopped in the process. “For the record, I don’t think you’re weak at all. You’re one of the strongest people here, and considering what you’ve been through in your past, the fact that you’re still such a kind-hearted soul is rare in a place like this. You’re one of a kind, Kang Dae-ho.” You spoke softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before standing up to switch places with Jung-bae and Gi-hun, who were just waking up so you could get some rest.

He could only stare, his cheeks flushed as a quiet chuckle escaped him. Heading toward his own bed, which was a bit farther from yours, he suddenly paused. Kneeling down beside you, he gently brushed your hair behind your ear. “You’re one of a kind too, [Name] [Last Name],” he murmured, his voice soft but full of meaning, your name rolling naturally off his tongue. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Sleep well.”

As your eyes fluttered closed, a faint smile curved your lips. “Good night, Dae-ho.”

He lingered for just a moment longer, his gaze lingering on your peaceful expression, before whispering to himself, “How could someone like you exist?” Then, with one last glance, he quietly made his way to bed, his heart still racing.

© just1cefor4ll— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

[kiyo-cant-write]

hello!! good morning, afternoon or night, idk. Could I request Diasomnia (or just Silver and Malleus if it's too much characters) with a Snow White like reader? I recently re-watched Snow White and it kinda got me thinking about how they would interact with a reader that acts similarly to Snow White (very kind, caring, motherly and a tad bit naive). Thank you either way and have a good day!

diasomnia w/ snow white!reader ✧･ﾟ

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I am so sorry this took me so long! I do a lot of writing in addition to this blog and between that and school, things got away from me! Thank you for the request and I hope I did this idea justice ^^

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Summary: The following scenarios and headcanons depict the members of Diasomnia with a Snow White-inspired reader. Each of these is meant to be its own universe, like a visual novel route.

TW/CW: N/A

Notes: pre to in a relationship, the reader is Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu, they/them pronouns for the reader, the reader is explicitly human/non-fae

Guest Stars: N/A

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Malleus Draconia

Malleus and [Name] share a certain innocence about the world.

They both fall victim to Lilia's pranks often.

Malleus is fond of them from the get-go because they seem more worried about him than afraid of him at the joint event.

This is where their friendship began.

Malleus thinks that [Name] is a unique person.

He wants to protect the person who seems so soft and caring.

Malleus doesn't understand how [Name] is so soft to others.

Everyone seems to like them. Can they teach him how to do that?

"How do you do it, [Name]?" Malleus asked them one evening as they walked around the school at twilight.

It was cold and [Name] was wrapped in a blanket from their dorm to keep out the cold. Still, they were walking. These walks were something they looked forward to even if it disrupted their (already questionable) circadian rhythm at times.

"Do what, Malleus?" they returned his question with another question, unsure what the draconic fae meant this time.

They didn't do anything out of the ordinary. Did they? Were they doing something so special without even being aware of it? They looked at him with wide curious eyes, urging him to elaborate.

"You are someone that everyone likes," Malleus told them plainly.

Name paused. Was that true? They thought about their relationship with the other students at Night Raven. Maybe they did have a lot of friends. Was that upsetting Malleus? He was rather... a solo rider.

"I suppose so... But it's not something I'm trying to do, so..."

They trailed off and Malleus placed a hand on their shoulder.

"I am not mad at you, Child of Man," he continued, "It is just something that I have noticed as we have known each other."

They nodded slowly, trying to understand what he was saying,

"Does it make you worry?" they asked, looking at him and taking a small step closer, "I don't want to cause you distress, Malleus..."

His brows furrowed slightly as he stared down at the small human he had become friends with. Was he worried? It seemed more than that.

"It's not just a worry," he continued, "Perhaps it is also... admiration."

They stopped before they could even begin their next sentence. Was Malleus complimenting them in earnest?

"Oh?" they managed to say.

He smiled, eyes gleaming.

"I do admire you deeply, [Name]," he told them, "For... For being all I cannot be."

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Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia starts off viewing [Name] as a child.

They remind him of Silver and he is much older than the other students, so it's only natural that he's a bit apprehensive.

They seem naive and that worries him, but it's also fun to use.

A few pranks have [Name] scrambling to get Sebek's help.

Still, Lilia cares about them, mostly from afar.

He would not be the one to confess first because he knows he will depart soon enough but he is always sweet to [Name].

The joke about [Name] being a second parent to Silver does not go unused. Silver did not appreciate that one but laughed in the end.

"My dear," Lilia began his statement in earnest, giving an almost evil grin as he came closer, however, to the person he had claimed as his lover only days ago, "May I ask you something~?"

"Lilia?" they asked, startling slightly when he hugged them but relaxing into it all the same, "What is it?"

They were used to him being a bit strange but part of him seemed... very serious and they were not sure what to make of it. [Name] was new to this whole "dating" situation. Sure, they had read about it. But this was different. This was real. Wasn't it?

This was new for them, in more ways than one, he was Lilia-senpai.

"[Name], how do you feel about being a mother?" he asked.

They paused. What was he asking them? Why? Now? Why would they be a mother? Children? They were still in school and, and, and...

Their thoughts raced a bit at the question but calmed as soon as they heard the giggly laugh that suggested he was messing with them somehow.

"You must not fret so," he told them, patting their head affectionately.

"But you asked if I was going to be a mom?" they asked him.

"Not of new life, not yet," he told them, that was a plan for some other day at some other time, "I meant to my son who is almost grown."

Son... who is almost... SILVER?

Their jaw dropped at the realization.

"You want me to help with Silver?"

[Name]'s eyes were wide. Silver wasn't too far from their age.

"Yes!" Lilia chirped an answer.

"Well..."

What were they supposed to say to this? They weren't the type to decline their lover's request and they did care for Silver. They could see how he would need another parent to balance the chaos of Lilia now. But, them? It was a lot to take in.

"I will let you think about it, but as my lover, it does make you a parent to him in some sense of the word, perhaps an unconventional one, though," he explained to them.

They nodded.

"Father, please do not harass [Name]!" Silver spoke up from across the room, looking at [Name] a moment later, "You do not need to be my mother if you do not wish to be."

Ah, [Name] had forgotten. They were in the Diasomnia Commons. Silver and Sebek were here. There was an audience.

"Hmm..." they hummed, trying to think it over.

"But isn't Silver still so cute?" Lilia cooed.

"Father-" Silver attempted to cut in but [Name] spoke too soon.

"I suppose I wouldn't mind helping with your son, Lilia."

"Yay~"

At least Lilia was happy. Silver might need to vent to someone later.

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Silver

Silver does not realize he has befriended [Name] until they have been friends for several weeks. He does not have the heart to back out after this and only grows closer to them from this point on.

He grows to like their optimistic attitude.

They share a bit of naivety in the world and others sense this.

Silver confesses first as he believes this is the "correct" way to do it based on the books (manga) that Lilia offered him as advice.

They decide to be a couple fairly easily and it's a first for them both. Silver has never had a relationship outside of his work as a guard and being Lilia's adoptive son.

Silver and [Name] don't realize they are in love until everyone else is already painfully aware of their feelings for each other.

Lilia likes to mess with both Silver and his lover.

Silver and his lover often become victims of these pranks.

[Name] and Silver are too forgiving in these instances.

Sebek sometimes yells at them about it.

"Is this cheese?" [Name] asked Silver, trying to get the substance out of her hair and failing, "Cheese from the ceiling?"

Their expression was one of confusion as they looked between their hair and the white-haired boy who was also trying to get the sticky orange substance off of his dorm uniform's horned hat. He didn't seem pleased but was far less surprised than they were.

"Yes, I think so," he told them.

They paused, thinking about it more deeply.

"....Why?"

"Well..." Silver trailed off for a moment, trying to think of a way to answer her without incriminating someone, "It was a practical joke."

"A joke? Cheese from the ceiling was a joke?" she asked, confused but not angry, trying to find the hilarity in the event, "What does it mean?"

"I don't think it has a meaning, this is just how my- How Lilia-senpai shows his affection for me, for you, for ... us, I suppose?"

"Oh..." they said before their eyes widened, "Oh!"

"Yes..." he managed to respond, hesitant.

He felt a bit bad Lilia had done something that startled them.

"Does that mean Lilia-senpai thinks of us as... a pair?"

"Maybe?" Silver responded.

It seemed likely enough that Silver and [Name] were seen as a pair by his father. He was prone to assigning roles to people in Silver's experience. It didn't warrant cheese but, oh well. They really do sell everything at the School Store, he noted.

That was probably where his father had gotten this... whatever it was.

"We are best friends, right Silver?" [Name] asked, pulling him from his thoughts at what other oddities the store might be selling.

"Yes, but..."

He wanted to say it. He had thought it over for a week, been yelled at by Sebek, been told to "court properly" by Prince Malleus... He had to do it. He was a knight. What scared him so much about this?

Silver let out a soft breathy sigh.

"But?" [Name] asked, repeating what he had half-said.

He had to do this. He wanted to do this. Silver was determined.

"I have been meaning to ask you something, [Name]," he told them.

"What is it...?" [Name] asked, surprised for the second time that day.

Copying what he had read in the books Lilia offered him, he took their hands in his and looked at them with a sparkle in his eyes they had not seen until this very moment. He was serious.

"[Name]," he spoke once more.

They blinked at him. What was he trying to say?

"Yes....?" they replied.

"Would you do me the... honor of..." Silver paused for a second or two before he continued, "Being mine? I am in love with you so ardently I might... You're lovely."

The line was a jumble of the things he had read. Would that suffice? Would it be a proper request to them? He knew it had to be done respectfully or else he would bring shame to his father and master alike. Silver would never want to do that, he was loyal to the fae despite his very humanity.

His eyes gazed into theirs, not wanting to look away and miss their answer. Silver watched as they processed his words, face flushing slightly as soon as they understood what he meant with that flowery question. They struggled for words.

"You. Me..." they paused, "Yes!"

He expected a bit more hesitation but they seemed enthusiastic about it as they jumped into his arms and wrapped theirs around his neck, hugging him tightly. They both ignored the strings of sprayable cheese that was still covering them both and the laundry that would need to be done shortly after.

"I am glad you accept my feelings," he managed to say.

[Name] nodded into his shoulder.

"This is all like a dream.." they said softly to him.

If this was a dream, Silver noted, it was a sweet one.

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Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is annoyed by [Name] for the first while they know each other but it is mostly because their "kind" personality causes them to approach him and they are a HUMAN.

They grow on him only because he just keeps running into them?

Is the universe trying to get them together? (yes)

Through repeated exposure, they begin a kind of friendship

[Name] listens intently when Sebek speaks about Malleus.

This aids in the development of their friendship.

Sebek does not know how to confess.

There is some internal conflict for this guard about his feelings.

[Name] remains blissfully unaware of his struggles.

Sebek means well he was just raised by a very human-phobic grandpa who he idolizes. We're all aware it's a problem.

"Sebek!" [Name] finally said a bit louder than the original attempt at getting his attention, "Are you okay?"

The knight was startled to attention and instantly straightened his posture before taking a fighting stance as though they were in danger. To that, [Name] was not sure what to say.

"Ah, it's you," he said, albeit quieter than usual, "I'm fine."

They narrowed their eyes at him briefly but didn't say anything. [Name] trusted him at their core, so they believed his words.

"If you say so," they shrugged, "So, are we going into town?"

Sebek turned to see [Name] sparkling at him with the sweetest smile on their lips. They were excited about this trip, weren't they? How could he have let himself get distracted from a task that Lilia gave him? Lilia told him to accompany this human, his friend, into town as a guard. Something about magic-less people not being safe alone.

He was in no position to question Lilia.

"We are!" he said, volume returning with force, "OFF WE GO!"

[Name] just giggled as they followed after him, blissfully unaware of the reason for his awkward posture and strange fluctuation in volume (even more than usual). They simply assumed it was Sebek being himself. He always was a bit strange and they adored him for it, seeing the passion in his eyes even when he was being a bit... much.

As kind and caring as they were, there was a certain naivety about [Name]. Falling in love was foreign to them. Perhaps that was why they did not notice the tell-tale signs that Lilia would have pointed out to them if he didn't like seeing Sebek squirm so much.

Sebek was in love with [Name].

But how did he tell someone that he cared for them? That he appreciated their mothering side and the fact that they listened to him. He thought about them! He wanted to please them! And... He dreamed of what their life could be like after they graduated. That one was embarrassing.

He glanced over toward them for a moment.

There they were, blissfully unaware of the anxiety within him at the thought that his feelings could change the friendship they had.

"This will be a fun day," Sebek told [Name], "You have my word."

"As a knight?"

"Yes... As a knight."

"Yay!!"

Their smile was all that mattered to him. He could wait just a bit longer to tell them the truth. All in good time... He could do it.

Lilia might have other plans though...

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Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[amoristt]

closer

「 ✦ thanos / reader / nam-gyu ✦ 」 tags: smut MDNI // afab! reader, DP, mild drxg use, like super mild, no plot lol, light coercion but reader is into it

a/n: when is it my turn im barkingggg i want them so bad theyre gonna have to burn me off w a lighter the way im biting word count: 9.5

・❥・Never in your life had you felt so grateful for something as simple as lukewarm water. Fuck, any water at all that wasn’t ice cold felt like a luxury- your palms collecting the clear liquid before tossing it up to your face. The splashes only offer so much, it’s awkward to bend over the sink to wash yourself, but it’s better than nothing given there don’t seem to be any readily available showers. 

Paper towels make shitty loofahs. The hand soap isn’t exactly your favorite fragrance ever. Your tracksuit and t-shirt are slung over a stalls door, and you’re craning your entire spine forward just to wash your upper half. The last game had been so strenuous- you were sure you absolutely reeked. 

Man, you miss your shower. If you make it home, you’re going to spend most of the rest of your life under as hot of water as you could get, you think. The ultimate pick-me-up.

Speaking of pick-me-up’s, you wonder if Thanos's would be a kind enough soul to let you bum off some more of this muscle relaxants. You had no idea what the things were, but holy shit, did it knock you off your ass the last time. It was like being made entirely of lead. Every time you shifted positions, you fell into an even comfier spot, the thin mattresses offered to you suddenly about as comfortable as a kings. 

You could use some good sleep right about now. Sore, exhausted, and more high-strung than you cared to admit. Thanos and Nam-gyu were always entertaining enough to take some of the edge off. Even when your lives were on the line, they made it hard to take anything too serious at all at all. Or maybe that was the drugs- either way, you were appreciative of their company. Who better to hang around with than friends, right? Long before the games, before you all became a trio of sorts, you’d met them both a handful of times, only when your friend groups would clash because a few people knew a few people who knew a few people. 

Thanos was always the center of attention, but he was never outright unkind to you. Notably, he was always particularly focused on you when you were in a giggly mood. You would laugh at all his jokes, even the shitty ones, with a drink in hand. He ate it up- worked overtime to keep you around- you made him feel like he was the funniest man alive. 

Nam-gyu worked at the club you both frequented at and he came to be as equally as interested in your friend. He hung around your table, they chatted endlessly on about some online currency thing most times, and you’d zone out all too easily. Other times, your favorite times, Nam-gyu would sneak you all into a private lounge and share some of his spoils he’d come across. They took drugs like water, you always chose the bottle, instead. 

Friday’s would blur into sunday evenings before you could even really get a grapple on what was going on. You’d wake up in hotel rooms with them both strewn about, sleeping in all sorts of positions. It was fun. It was really fun, in a wreckless, manic type of way. You never understood why they kept you around, but you didn’t question it, either. Why question when you could just enjoy. Why question when you could just enjoy?

When you’d found them among the crowd on day one, it was like the planets had realigned. Actually, you hadn’t even been the first to notice. You just heard your name shouted over the crowd and suddenly someone was slamming into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. A blur of purple hair and green tracksuits. 

You aren’t sure you’d have made it as far as you had if not for your buddies. You try not to think about it too much- you’d hate to ruin your own vibe as lives come to end all around you. It was the first time you’d ever taken something from Thanos- a muscle relaxant that really took the anxieties away. 

Dipping your head into the sink and rinsing your face once more, you don’t bother looking up when you hear the door push open and then click shut. You’re too focused on how the water is warm enough, and you don’t stink to the high heavens any longer. 

A man’s voice cuts through the silence, echoes off the tile walls. 

“Woah.” 

You rip your head from the sink so fast it almost nails the faucet on your way up, alarm flashing through you, arms coming to cover your chest only clad in your bra. When you manage to process the not only one, but two men standing before you, you feel anger bubbling in your chest. 

Low and behold, speak of the devils. 

“What the fuck!” You hiss, tightening your arms around your chest. 

Thanos’s hands are tucked into his pockets casually, and he looks around the bathroom with his brows raised, like he wasn’t sure what to expect out of the women's bathroom. Nam-gyu tails him but passes by after offering you a snarky grin. In your relief that you knew the two souls invading your space, you almost forgot the fact that you were naked from the waist up. 

“You seriously scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Thanos hummed, putting his hands up to his chest mockingly. He moves like he’s light on air, but his eyes never leave you. 

You turn on your heel and grab your shirt from its spot over the stall door, throwing it on quickly. In the mirror, you don’t miss the way Thanos’s eyes drink you in, but you do miss the way Nam-gyu is almost seeming to scout the girls room, checking under the doors and pushing stalls open. 

“What are you guys doing in here? Aren’t you worried about getting in trouble.”

Thanos scoffs. “Trouble. It was crazy boring out there.”

Nam-gyu sighs dramatically, snaking up beside the taller male. “And you’ve been in here forever. We thought maybe something happened to our buddy.”

You actually laugh at that. He’s said that before- and this isn’t the first time your friends have barged into the women's bathroom in search of you. Usually at clubs, they’d be pushed and shoved out by other women, but right now there’s no one to chastise them for being irritants. 

“My heroes. I’m definitely doing fine. Buuut…” You trail off in a hum, eyeing your purple haired friend. He raises a brow again. “You got more of what you had me take? Not the crazy shit, obviously, whatever the white one was from the other night.”

“Why? You stressed?” He rocks back and forth on his heels, shoving his hands into his pockets. You can’t help but stare at him, incredulous. 

“Yeah, I’m stressed. All this game shit is starting to get under my skin.”

“Yo, you’re not voting no are you?” Gam-gyu is already touching you. So clingy, all the time, thin fingers petting and pressing on your shoulders any chance he could get. At any point it seemed like he was tugging on you from somewhere. 

“No, I’m just saying I could use some relief.”

He slips behind you, hands on your shoulders. Your friends are trading looks that you can’t quite place, this unspoken vibe that you’re clearly not tuned into. Something thicker settles between all three of you, as does your confusion. They were up to something- you knew it. You knew them like the back of your hand. 

Thanos is jostling the necklace around to sort through all the colors. Eventually he settles on one and he hands it over. The entire time he’s searching for it, Nam-gyu is still standing along your back, the heat of him palpable. Consistent. He’s always exuded heat like a furnace.

Thanos pulls his necklace from his shirt and pops the cross shaped case open. Plucking out a small white pill, he eyes it before flashing it in your vision. You brighten up at the sight, but he’s quick to take a step back when you reach out. 

“What is it?”

“Hm… I’m just thinking. You know, I give you a couple of these, but what do I get in return?” 

That stops you, your eyes narrowing just enough to notice, subtle suspicion settling over your features. 

“Uh… What do you want, I guess…?”

Thanos eyes glance around the room as he thinks, before they settle on you. They’re different. A bit darker, a flame of mischievousness to those irises. Not a look you’ve never seen before, but certainly not a look you expected to be directed at you of all people. 

“How about… a kiss.”

There you go, laughing again. Now that was certainly a first. When you have your little giggle and straighten back up, you see that Thanos doesn’t find his request even slightly as funny as you do. He’s staring at you with his expression of expectancy, so much so that it makes you raise a brow. 

“For real?”

He jingles his necklace, the pills rattling around audibly. There’s no way he’s serious. But he looks serious. He was a flirt to his very core, you knew that a fact to be true, but ever since you’d left the ‘cutie in his friend group’ category and slipped into the boundaries of being his genuine friend, he hadn’t made any advances. 

Maybe this was some sort of test, because he’s still not budging. If he is serious, well… You can’t exactly say you’d mind a little peck. He was handsome- they both were. With cool, untouchable attitudes to match. Fun, fun, fun, and the rare times they had to look out for you, they were as reliable as concrete. 

If you hadn’t developed such a bond with them- not quite something like siblings, but not of lesser importance either, you’d have been all over the idea. Now you have to put thought into it, tread more carefully than you’d like. 

You decide, though, fuck it. If he’s to be the fisher, then suppose you’ll be the fish that bites.

“Sure. Why not.”

They both trade looks again. Quick, only in a flash, but you catch it. Nam-gyu’s thumbs rub circles into your skin through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and for some reason it makes your breath catch in your chest. There’s a strange energy about them. Something charged, determined. Every move is calculated with some end goal in their minds. 

“Here.” 

A strange pang of disappointment rings through you, though, when Thanos plants the little pill in your palm- you had kinda hoped he’d kiss you, after all. But oh well. You knew he was just clowning around- he always was. You always had turned his meaningless flirts down, maybe he was trying to see what you’d do in the name of drugs, or something like that. You feel prickly heat on your cheeks- embarrassment. 

You wish you had turned him down now, too, kind of feeling like an idiot. 

The pill is just as bitter on your tongue now as it had been the first time, a grimace playing over your lips as the texture bursts into a gritty chalk-like powder dancing over your tastebuds. You had about five minutes before it’d start kicking in. 

“Jesus, that taste is so fucking na-”

You’re cut off by Thanos pressing his lips firmly against your own. It’s sudden, it’s intrusive. His hand is firmly cupping your jaw and the other is resting on the pulse of your neck. It pushes you back against Nam-gyu roughly, and his hands come to grasp at your forearms from behind you, continuing to rub circles into your skin. Your own hands come up instinctively, planting on Thanos’s shoulders. 

There’s heat flooding your cheeks, heat flooding down to your chest and out to your ears. Worsened, a flame so fiery hot it scorches, when Thanos tilts his head to deepen the kiss even further, his hands keeping you flush against him. Nam-gyu’s sliding his hands from your arms down to the curve of your waist, feeling the shape of you through your t-shirt. You shiver, electricity rippling up and down your spine in body shivering shudders. 

When Thanos splits from you, your mind reeling, there’s fingers replacing his grip on your jaw almost immediately, making you face over your shoulder. Another set of lips overtake yours, tongue lapping into your parted lips, pushy and demanding. Thanos’s kiss wasn't especially apprehensive, but it wasn’t like this. Nam-gyu kisses you like he owns you, fervent and sloppy and noisy.

There’s a string of spit bridging you when he pulls away, watches you gape at him, breathless and flushed. You’re stammering, unsure of what to say next. 

“What- what the fuck-”

“You are so beautiful.” Thanos interrupts again you by running a hand through your hair, nails gently scratching along your scalp. It’s not the first time he’s ever said it, but there’s something different now. Passionate. Like he really means it this time, and not some off-handed flirt that was easy to swat away. 

You’re blushing a raging red, your heart pounding in your chest- you don’t know what to do with your hands anymore. He takes them for you in his own, long fingers stroking over your knuckles before he dragged your right hand up to his lips and places kisses along your knuckles. Over the top, up your wrist. Up to your forearm and then only stopping when your t-shirt blocked away your smooth skin. Nam-gyu brushes hair from your neck and buries his face into the cradle of you, breathes you in, his hands still squeezing gently on your hips. 

“What’s going on…?” You chirp, eyes falling half lidded.

“You tell us.” Nam-gyu murmurs against you, hot breath ghosting over your skin, and you shiver in, you realize, pure delight. You feel a weight start to settle in your cheeks, your head starting to feel just a little bit heavier than before to hold up on your neck. 

The drugs are kicking in just in time, your shoulders slumping, a content sigh leaving your lips. Opening yourself up to them, head lolling to the side to give Nam-gyu more of your collar. He takes, greedy, excited, and presses a smile into your jugular. 

This was calculated. This was planned. And fuck, it’s working. 

“I don’t know.” You say. But you do know. And you know you’re clearly enjoying it- already wet between your legs and feeling the roll of anticipation settle in your belly. 

The anxieties start to ebb away, and Thanos is watching your every micro expression with blown pupils. You watch him from under your thick lashes, lips swollen, your breath leaving you in shallow pants. It beckons him, draws him in for another kiss. 

Thanos is the one who finally decides to stop beating around the bush. He breaks your second kiss to touch your face, one hand caressing down your cheeks, the other brushing stray strands of hair away from your eyes. He’s beautiful- he’s always been beautiful. 

“You want more?”

You swallow. “Drugs? Or…”

He traces his thumb over your lower lip. “...Or.”

Yes, you do. Fuck yes. But for some reason you can’t say it outloud- this weird, nagging feeling that surely comes from some insecurities buried among the skeletons in your closet, that this is all some cruel prank. That if you say yes, really give in to them, they’ll leave you high and dry, laughing all the way back to their beds outside. You’d never live it down. It would change everything. 

“...Are you being serious…?” You have to ask, even if you’re so wet it’s uncomfortable, clenching on nothing when strikes of need course through you. 

There is no laughter. Just excited, aroused breathing all around in the silence. Nam-gyu squeezes you once more, fingers pressing into your skin through your clothes that are suddenly much, much too warm to be under. 

“Seriously.” Thanos murmurs, and then he finds your lips again. Kisses exhilaration into you like a drug of its very own. You let him in, lean forward and hum a sweet little sound into his mouth. He pulls back again, and there’s those expectant eyes again. He’s being genuine, they both are, their hands and their eyes and their mouths unable to leave you for even a moment. 

“Let’s have some fun, yeah?” Nam-gyu breathes, and you shiver. His fingers dip below the thin fabric of your t-shirt, barely brushing his calloused fingers over your skin, and it’s enough to light you up with goosebumps and desire. You can feel your heartbeat throughout your entire body now, from your head all the way down to your aching cunt. 

Yeah. Let’s have some fun. 

The moment you nod, it’s the green light they’d been waiting for- hoping for. 

Your shirt is gone in a matter of seconds, Thanos making quick work to pull it over your head and toss it over the wall of the nearest stall. Before you even get the chance to cover yourself, exposed in the bathroom before them all over again, you’re being walked backwards, pushed gently by the front when Thanos kisses you fervently- like he can’t get enough of you. Like everytime he breaks away he’s just waiting for his chance to find your lips again. You’re sore with him, kiss-drunk and willing. The world disappears behind the stall, and all else disappears except for them. 

Nam-gyu backs up to the wall, keeps you in front of him, sandwiched between their bodies. His hand slips under your bra and he kneads your breast with one hand, the other wrapping around your waist, keeping you pinned against his warm, warm body. When his thumb flicks over your nipple, you jump with a sharp gasp. Thanos groans an equally as delighted sound against you, doesn’t let up, doesn’t give you the chance to have second thoughts. 

Gentle pinches and tugs make you whimper, forced to break Thanos’s kiss when you’re overwhelmed with the need for air. You suck in greedy breaths, a sound that raises into a high keen when there’s suddenly pressure flattened right where you needed it between your legs. Thanos’s palm is grinding against your sex through your sweats, your hands clutching against his jacket in need of purchase. 

“I knew you’d sound cute.” Nam-gyu harps, grinning into your hair. 

You wonder when they’d planned this. Initially you had figured it was a fuck it, why not scenario- after all, tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. But the little comments like that, like this was something they’d thought about before, tells you otherwise. It makes you even hotter. Fuck, if you had known, you would have been on it. Especially if it felt like this. 

Your head tips back, resting against Nam-gyu’s shoulder, and he makes quick work of nipping at your throat. Thanos is all kisses, but you’re finding the other male is mostly teeth, biting and grazing along the sensitive flesh of your neck. Thanos adds just a bit of pressure, just enough to make you moan again, the sound like music to their waiting ears. You’re quickly dissolving into a squirming mess of sultry cries and ember-hot skin. 

Your bra is next up on the chopping block. It’s actually shocking it’s taken this long, Nam-gyu growing impatient with the idea of touching, but not seeing. When it’s pulled away, the cold air meets you, makes you shiver, exposed. Now it’s getting real- you’re entirely bare from the waist up, panting in front of them like a present begging to be unwrapped. 

“So fucking hot,” Thanos coos, feeling you, bouncing between catching your sensitive nipples in his fingers and easing his palm against your sex. You need more- you’re so wet you’re sure he can feel it through your clothes, now, hips rocking, begging for more. He drops to his knees in front of you.

“Woah-” You clam up, tensing, and Nam-gyu lifts his head so he could see what your sudden fuss was about. Thanos freezes, his fingers caught and hooking over your sweats. You swallow hard and squirm. “I mean- You don’t have to do that.”

“You don’t… Want me to?” He’s actually taken aback that you’re stopping him, clearly worried about cold feet coming into the picture. You stammer again.

“Well-, Not like, I don’t want you to, but that’s… I don’t know.”

He leans back on his heels, tilting his head. “So you do want me to.”

You’re under the spotlight, frozen, floundering. They’re exchanging glances from over your shoulder. Fuck- you don’t want this to stop but you’re nervous at the thought of him eating you out. You force out, “I-I just- I’m embarrassed.”

Thanos gapes at you. “Embarrassed?”

You can’t bear to look at him in the eyes anymore, nerves getting the better of you. 

Fuck, you want more drugs. Anything to get away from this random bout of insecurities that seemed to jump you out of the blue. Or maybe it was the sobering reality that was your good, good friend about to be face to face with your cunt. 

Nam-gyu drags his hands along your sides, makes you shiver, before they settle on your breasts again. He grasps you, rolls your sensitive buds between his fingers. He’s trying to break you out of your funk, you know it, and it’s starting to work. Reminding you how good this feels, how they’ve been all over you like drooling hounds to scent from the moment you’d invited them into yourself. 

“Don’t be shy, c’mon.” He whispers in your ear. You’re inclined to listen, even if it takes a few extra beats of silence. 

“Okay.”

Thanos’s eyes light up. He leans forward. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

He’s quick to drag your pants down, takes great care to bring your underwear with them, into a pool around your ankles before tugging them away all together. When you lift your left leg to step out, he catches you by the thigh and hikes it over his shoulder, your other leg supporting your weight. You’re spread open and he’s eyeing your sex like a wolf eyes a cornered rabbit. Hungry, primal. He doesn't let you develop those worries this time, wastes no time before butting his tongue up against your slit and licking a broad, deep stripe. 

A high, blissful sound escapes your lips. Something like a mewl, but from somewhere deep in your chest. It’s lewd, it’s downright pornographic, and it’s making Nam-gyu groan into your neck while Thanos’s eyes slip shut. Every lick makes you jump, every prod of his tongue against your lonely clit a cause for squirming. If Nam-gyu’s arm wasn’t wrapped around your waist, crushing you against him, you would have crumbled into a heaping mess. 

“God, you’re such a fucking babe.” He murmurs in your ear, a taunt to his tone. “You’ve wanted this bad, huh?”

You did want it. You wanted it so bad that you’re already dripping with your own slick, Thanos devours you like the finest of fruit. He’s ravenous, hungry, sucking on your clit and spreading you open with his fingers until all you can do is wheeze out sharp cries. You can’t do anything to slow him down, urge him deeper, stuck in place and expected to do nothing else but let them have you. 

“Look at that,” Nam-gyu’s voice again in your ear, you can hear his grin. “You're soaking his face already.”

It’s too much. You can’t lock eyes with him- you can barely even stand the sight of him buried between your legs on its own, let alone locking eyes when he's making all these obscene, salacious sounds, drunk on your slick. But then the male behind you grabs your chin and he makes you look and he whispers dirty, downright bawdy things in your ear that make you shake in his unrelenting grip.

When Thanos’s eyes flick up to find yours, you whine and bury your hand in his hair. He moans against you, letting his eyes fall shut again, reveling in the way you tugged and clawed. You’re covered by them, covered by hands and kisses, losing any and all sense of prudence. These wanton, needy sounds are slipping past your lips and you can’t seem to stop them. It’s all so good, pleasure from every angle. 

Your orgasm is quiet, but it rocks you to your very core. This rippling, climbing tantamount of pleasure that bursts into fiery roars of euphoria fluttering under your skin. Head tossed back against Nam-gyu’s shoulder, scrabbling for purchase on his arm around your waist, you cum and cum and cum until it feels like you’re never going to find your way back down. 

If you’d been soaked before, you were downright drenched now, and Thanos couldn’t have been happier. He’s greedy, clutches your twitching hips so you can’t jump away from his mouth when he drinks you in until you’re writhing to get away from it. When he finally pulls away, he laps another wet kiss onto your clit for good measure, and then another for the road. And then one more, one more just for good luck. 

“Holy shit,” Nam-gyu chuckles against your hair. “Fuck, that was so hot.”

Thanos kisses up from your thighs to your abdomen, up to your breasts, where he finds his mouth busy once more latching onto a nipple and earning another bout of whimpers. You lurch back, wiggly and restless, but you can’t go anywhere else. You’re trapped, cornered. It’s perfect.

You’re suddenly hoisted into the air, hands gripping into your thighs and ass. Your back presses weight against Nam-gyu’s front, and instinctively, you wrap your legs around Thanos’s waist for support. They’ve got you sandwiched in between their bodies even more now, your weight entirely supported by their grasps, the soft fabric of their tracksuits brushing against you with every shift. Occasionally, there’s a sharp chill of cold along your back, the zipper brushing against your heated skin. 

There’s a quiet, rustling of fabric that reaches your ears over the incessant pounding of your heart rate, and when you look, you feel your stomach roll. Thanos is shimmying his pants down to his mid thighs, and you watch with eager eyes as his cock springs free from its confines. His tip is red and angry with need, precum glistening under the overhead light. It makes you clench of nothing, suddenly realizing how empty you feel, how he could fill you up so perfectly. 

When he settles between your legs again, he tests the waters, drags his tip along your slit, knocking it against your clit. You jerk your hips against him, trying to urge him in without outright telling him. He’s a good listener- doesn't make you wait and agonize, doesn't even make you beg for it. Just lines his shaft up with your entrance and lets out a shaky, eager breath. He doesn’t wait for an okay. He doesn’t need one. Not when you’re driving your heel into his lower back and biting at your lip in anticipation. 

You’re so drenched that he’s inside of you all the way to the hilt in one move. You go from uncomfortably empty to suddenly bracing the impalement, your walls fluttering and sucking him in, drawing these deep guttural groans from both of your throats. His hands are squeezing your ass, nails barely catching the skin. He certainly feels thicker than he looks, snug inside of your gummy walls. 

“Damn,” English meets your ears, low and sultry as you wrap your arms around his neck. “So fucking wet.”

“Take her.” Nam-gyu says, and before you know it, your weight has shifted onto Thanos almost entirely. The arm wrapped tightly around your abdomen slithers away, and then you feel it. The unmistakable, undeniable feeling of Nam-gyu’s erection pressing flush to your occupied slit. He’s so hard it must hurt, breathing heavy against your neck, a fever growing within him. And he’s bigger- you can tell, thicker. Thanos’s cock twitched inside of you, reminds you that you already feel full. You still, the sudden dawning realization that they’re both going to take you temporarily yanking you from your haze of euphoria. 

“You gonna be able to take it?” Thanos can sense the change in you. He always does, his eyes seem to never leave you. 

You can’t bring yourself to answer, because quite honestly, you don’t know. You don’t know if you could house both of their swollen cocks within the confines of your cunt. You’re trying to even your breathing, to relax around him, but it’s hard when Nam-gyu knocks his length along your sex once again. He’s trying to wait- but patience has never been one of his virtues. But he does it for you, does it because he wants this more than anything in his entire life. And he wants it done right. 

Thanos rocks himself into you, sets you alight once more, lighting little sparks behind your eyelids. Reminding you, again, that they’re going to take care of you. Chirping, mewling little sounds pass your lips every time he does, spurs them both on, especially Nam-gyu, who butts his cock up against your slit one more time before he presses inside with a hiss. 

It’s an impossibly tight fit. Your chest heaves, your body tenses, your heart is beating so rapidly you’re afraid it may burst any time now. There’s hands all over you, soothing you, toying with you, rubbing circles into your clit and catching your nipples between the pads of their fingers. The first inch of Nam-gyu manages a path inside your pussy. You tense with every fiber of your being, this searing, rippling burn forcing you to toss your head back with a dying yelp on your lips. It hurts- it hurts more than you thought it would, and you knew with certainty you’d be struggling. He won’t fit- he can’t fit, there’s no way the size of you could accommodate them both. But he continues anyway, forces another inch inside of you. 

The stretch is unbelievable. You can’t cope 

There’s hands petting down your hair, lips on your cheek, trying to kiss and lick and sooth you. 

“Quiet, it’s okay.” Your ears are swimming, you can barely hear Thanos’s voice over the crashing waves beating along your eardrums. You whimper a pitiful noise- one that makes him shift your weight onto Nam-gyu’s iron grip. Your eyes are screwed shut so tight you’re unsure if they'll ever open again. Something pokes against your lips- fingers, you realize, slipping inside your warm mouth and dragging along your tongue. You’re so lost, swirling, you just let them explore you.

“You’re so pretty, baby, let me help you.” He hums, and that reaches you just fine. Another wave of red hot blush creeps over your cheeks as if having both of their cocks jointed in the cavern of your cunt wasn’t enough before. Chest swelling, leaning into his fingers collecting your drool and prying your mouth open for him, like an obedient dog. 

A bitter, sharp taste explodes over your tongue. 

Try as you might to rip your head back, retching, Nam-gyu’s holding you up so Thanos’s other hand has got you by the back of your head and he’s shoving that terrible taste to the very back of your throat until you're gagging it down. His voice is so sweet in your ears, sickly so, faux honey tipped words that reach you in cooing there you go’s. 

“How much-” You gag with the taste of the pill still drifting down into your stomach. “How much was that?”

“Don’t worry about it. I got you.” And his broad hands are back onto your body, supporting and dragging you against him, burying his face in your neck, lapping the smooth skin there. 

You trust him. You trust both of them, even when they give you every reason not to. And so, let them handle it all for you. To take care of you. In return they ravage you, take and pull anything they can get their hands on, stuck somewhere between treating you like the finest of china

 whilst simultaneously brutalizing you at every turn. This precious, pliable, breakable, but oh so usable thing at their very fingertips. 

At the very least, Nam-gyu hasn’t continued trying to bulldoze his swollen cock into you, not yet. He’s giving you the chance to relax, to let him have you. 

This round of drugs takes as quick of effect as the first, and you can feel it starting in your back before all else, this overtaking, tranquilizing sooth that works to pacify your tense muscles. It spreads to your face, your arms, your thighs and your legs, like a flood slowly rising until you’re soggy and heavy in their arms. Your head lolls forward on your shoulders, your brain grows foggier by the second. Their heartbeats are in tandem- or perhaps, it’s just your own, pulsating through every nerve in your being. 

The drugs are helping, you think, or you really are starting to enjoy the way you’re being lanced in two. It’s hard to think at all anymore, all you can really do is feel and pant and try not to cry anymore than you already have. As the seconds tick by, you’re still lucid enough to know a glaring fact- they’re going to gut you with this. But you’re starting to lose the ability to care and you aren’t sure if that’s entirely a good thing or not. 

In that moment, however, it was bliss. Painful and scorching, but all euphoric consuming bliss. 

There isn’t enough space for them between your legs, but they carve it out anyways, shape and mold you around their cocks. Nam-gyu pushes in again, and you wrench around them, gasping out high noises in the back of your throat. He stills- there isn’t enough room like this. Even being so soaked that there’s this audible, obscene wentess to your cunt as he makes his way inside, there’s simply not enough room. Not with Thanos already buried so tightly inside of you, snug and occupying. Your fingers grip anywhere they can get- their arms, their shoulders, desperate for something to cling to in your woes. 

“I don’t think she can-” Nam-gyu groans when you squeeze around them mid sentence, and even with just half of his length sheathed inside of you, it’s fucking tight. He can’t even move, letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder. “M’ not gonna fit.”

Your weight is tossed back to Nam-gyu, your head tipping back, and he kisses your cheek again, breathes hot pants against your trembling skin. Thanos shifts inside of you, just enough to draw out urgent moans from all three of your throats. He’s so snug inside of you that it’s almost seamless, you can’t tell where he begins, where you end. That felt fucking good, whatever he had done. Your walls flutter around them, clenching, sucking them both in despite your qualms. Thanos resettles his grip, the weight redistributed. 

“Just-” His voice is strained, coming out in quick huffs. “Just do it.” Thanos ducks his head to find your eyeline, this pseudo, eager concern on his knit brows and pleading eyes. “You can take it, right?”

All you can do is nod, even though you’re still sure that this will kill you.

Nam-gyu jumps you just a bit, hoists you up just an inch or so higher so he could get a better grip on around your waist while his other arm snakes up your face so he could touch your face. Small tears are biting at your waterlines, you’re weightless and heavy all at once, on fire from the very core of your being, terrorizing you from the inside out. He kisses your cheek again before his palm finds your chin. 

“Don’t scream, don’t scream.” He covers your mouth, stifles all your frantic little noises, in preparation for what came next. 

In one single thrust, he bottoms out inside of you. You do scream- a high wail against his palm that still echoes off the stall walls even muffled. Fire spears you, you’re wrenching around them as if it’s going to help ease the flame. You go nowhere. You can do nothing except cry into his hand and accommodate them. There’s no other choice.

Buried to the very base of his cock, Nam-gyu’s groaning against the back of your head, a hiss dying on his lips every time you squirm and vice around them. Thanos mirrors him, grunting at the friction, the unbelievable feeling of being stuffed into something so warm and so soft. You’re so full- you’re too full, filled to the very brim, wall to wall, crevice to crevice. Stuffed so deeply you can feel them in your fucking throat. 

“It’s okay, you’re alright.” Frantic english meets you but you can barely register it. Nam-gyu’s hand leaves your lips, and the moment cool air meets your lips, you’re choking out sobs somewhere between erotic pleasure in its rawest form and the genuine pain of feeling as though you were being ripped in two. You’re struggling, tensing in all the wrong places. They’re heavy inside of you, both of their intrusive beings splitting you in half. Taking you, ruining you. All the while your walls are putting in the work, clamping down, rolling waves of squeezes that have them struggling to focus. A vice so wet and plush that it truly does seem like you were built for this- built to take them, painfully for not. 

Thanos is trying to keep you at bay, trying to pet down your face and ease those lines in your expression brought on agonizing, brutal pleasure. 

“Fucking- so fucking tight,” Nam-gyu, however, isn’t trying. Not at all. “Holy shit, baby, can’t even breathe-“

Since the very beginning he’s been desperate to have you on his cock, waiting for the moment he could sink into your heat long before you’d let them kiss and lick and bite you, corner you, feel your soft skin underneath all those dreadful clothes. Long before he followed Thanos into the women's room, and long before the games were even a thought at all. And now that he’s finally got you, he’s out of his mind with it. He’s ramrod straight and terribly hard, damn near pulsating inside of you, crushing you against his chest. The hand that was once stifling you is now gripping marks into the flesh of your under thigh- but you’re slipping, just barely. Just enough for him to have to jump his hips to have you properly held in his grip. It rips a cry from you, the burn clawing and tearing from within all over again. 

There’s not enough space. They’re killing you. 

“Take it easy, this is a lot.” Thanos’s brows are knit, he adjusts himself and slips in just a little further. Such a small action but it sends riveting electricity up and down your spine. It’s enough to draw yet another whimper from your sore lips, and he coo’s at you, at least tries to act like he isn’t getting off on your pathetic noises. 

Their lust dark, greedy beasts, drooling and starved with prey backed into a corner fit for the taking. 

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” Nam-gyu tries to sound like he’s apologetic but it falls flat in comparison. Mostly because you can feel him grinning, feel him tighten his grip. His breath is a quick ghost over the shell of your ear. “Taking it so well, though, fuck.”

“Oh god.” You’re crying again- not entirely out of pain. It’s overwhelming, they're all over you, their voices are swimming around the fishbowl of you skull and they sound so sweet but they’re devouring you whole and tearing you into bits. There’s another nudge inside of you that's making your stomach roll- you still can’t decide if this hurts too bad or it’s so fucking good that it’s almost blinding. The noise that leaves you certainly sounds pleased, however, and Nam-gyu groans in response, an instinctive carnal reply. 

“That’s it, that’s it. Feels good, right?” You can hear his smile in his words, your face is red hot with all the attention, and the tears, and the mind numbing rapture of it all. 

“We’ll take care of you baby, just-” Thanos hisses, struggling to get the words out. “Just say the word.”

You’ve got them teetering on the fine line of wanting and waiting, craving the slick and lushious feel of your walls writhing against their cocks, ready to take you and break you and fuck you. Thanos tries to be patient, or at least act like he’s patient, but you can see how he’s grappling with it. You’re stuck, held fast in the chains of their arms and strong hands, and he knows he could just take you like this and you couldn’t stop him. But he wants to wait, he wants to hear you sing, and he wants to hear you cry and cum for him, and forcing you wasn’t the road to that destination. 

Something urged you to wrap your arms around his neck and drag him down for a kiss he’s all too eager for, clashing teeth and pressing into your mouth so intensely he’s pushing your head back against his friend's shoulder with the force of it. And while you’re distracted, scrambling to keep up with the ferocity of him, Nam-gyu decides to take a gamble. He rocks his hips just enough for you to feel that tight, tight pressure against your cervix where he lays. Pleasure lights up within you like a spark that soars from the very depths of your cunt all the way to the behinds of your eyes, and you constrict around them. 

This longing, aching keen leaves you and plants itself against Thanos’s lips, he's quick to grasp your jaw in his fingers and swallow the sound like fine wine. You hadn’t expected it to feel this good already, this glorious thrum of heaven that makes you arch and press into the feeling for more. Your walls are clutching, dragging them in, your brain is choosing to ignore the burn in favor of the racing pleasure vibrating through your core. 

Thanos breaks away from your kiss to lick up your neck, and you finally get the chance to whimper, please.

The beasts close in on their prey, snarling and snapping, catching its little body between their teeth. 

Thanos, with his face buried in your neck and his hands shaking as they clutchy you, draws back just far enough to kiss your stretched slit with the tip of his swollen head before he’s driving himself back inside of you. Fuck, you could scream all over again at the spread, but instead all that escapes you is hoarse cries. Nam-gyu presses his forehead against the back of your hair and breathes you in, readies himself. You don’t even get the full length of a second to prepare before you’re ravaged. 

He moves quick- hard, with the hiss of fuck on his lips. He’s been waiting and waiting and waiting and you’re so soaked around his cock that it’s dripping onto his legs, how could he ever stop himself from gripping you in his mighty claws and fucking you like an animal. He’s drawing himself to the tip and forcing his way back inside at a speed you can’t keep up with, and he’s making all these guttural lewd grunts into your ear that make you even wetter, somehow, even slicker. You’re sucking them in and constricting around their lengths like you’re trying to keep them buried within the confines of your body forever. 

“Oh my god,” Thanos is chirping out mixtures of english and korean, all words lost on you, his eyes slipping shut as he takes his time properly fucking you. He’s slower than Nam-gyu for sure, but the way he rocks his hips against you is making you squirm, toes curling, fingers grabbing hard into his tracksuit for some sort of desperate need of release. His cock is mapping you out, becoming familiar with every ridge and valley of your softness, seeking out the entirety of you and the perfect curve of his dick is hitting spots that have you barking out yips of ecstasy.

Nan-gyu changes his angle and you can’t take it. There isn’t a slow thing about him. He fucks you like he’s been dying for it, like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, savage and wild, so fervent and profound that it’s making you see stars. He’s a little longer than Thanos- but only just a little, just enough for him to pound away at your cervix while you’re stuck folded and taut in his iron grip, damn near bouncing on his length. Wet squelches and the undeniable slap of skin on skin thicken the humidity between your bodies until it’s hard to breathe between the thickness and the rapid beat of pleasures sweeping through you in pulses. 

You’re crying out broken little sounds that either die in your throat or find their way lost in all the hazy noise and he’s echoing you, telling you dirty, dirty things in your flushed ears, how you’re so fucking tight, how perfect and wet you are for him. 

Someone- you can’t even figure out who anymore, finds your lonely clit under their fingers, rubbing quick and slick circles into the sensitive nub. Your thighs clamp down around Thanos’s waist but he’s too broad to offer any reprieve, your eyes slipping shut, head tossed back. It’s escapable- they’re inescapable, and their uneven tempos are making you see blank- a sheet of veneer white sparks you can feel with every pop. There’s no air left in your lungs, there’s so much pressure between your legs that you fear you may burst. 

There’s a certain moment when you’re right on the edge. This perfect moment when you’re right there and then you’re rolling through it in convulsing waves. All the stars align, the inferno stoking within you suddenly becomes this roaring wildfire swallowing you whole. You’re at that peak, focused on nothing but the endless stream of slurred words and the feeling of being stuffed to the very brim, no singular spot of your leaking pussy left abandoned. 

“You gonna’ cum?” Nam-gyu’s voice barely even registers with you when you first hear it. He’s still got you taking him in pistoning jerks of his hips, bullying himself into your poor, swollen sex. You don’t exactly try to nod, but the way you’re being pounded is making it all too easy to. Just a little more…

It’s not Nam-gyu pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit- no, his free hand is right back to grasping at your face, roughly flattening your hair back out of your face and keeping your expression on full display. Not quite pulling, but ensuring your head doesn’t leave its spot pressed against his shoulder. 

“That’s it, fuck, lemme’ see you cum.” You’re twisting in his grip, drooling and babbling please, please, please, and the fucker is laughing at you between carnal grunts. He’s hissing and groaning against your cheek like you’ve made him feral. 

“Come on, baby.” There’s another voice- Thanos’s, it’s reaching through the fog of lust and sultry cries, fishing you out of your own head and lulls you into a messy, heated kiss. You’ve gotten familiar with these lips now, familiar with the taste and the feel of his tongue slipping past your lips until you’re panting breathy cries against his taste buds. His fingers, you’ve realized, speed up their assault on your clit. 

Anything anyone says after that point is lost on you. 

If not for his lips on your own, you’d have outright screamed when you finally tipped over that edge. It’s everything, it’s everywhere. It’s in your eyes and your mouth, it’s in your toes and fingertips, it’s racing in colliding atoms up and down the length of your spine. 

The sheer shove and weight of their cocks pushing and grinding raw friction into you, impossibly deep, their grips holding you in place, you’re in a damn chokehold. Can see nothing, can hear nothing. Can only feel, and feel, and feel that pressure having snapped and unfurled into blooming pleasure that takes root within the very core of your being. 

You’re squeezing them, a torrent of slurry drenching and spilling around their shafts. Pulling, dragging, you’re clamping around them in pendulum pulses. It’s knocking the wind from their lungs, drawing out all the air in a slew of chest rumbling groans and teeth-whistling hisses. You’re delicious on it- blissed out and fucked and still being fucked with reckless abandon.

Nam-gyu bites and licks red into your neck, little specks turned into welts just above where your tracksuit collar reaches, the asshole. But he’s lucky- you’re so spent and raw and limp in their arms that you aren’t even registering it. That’s a problem for later, right now you’re too focused on how they’re both so damn heavy inside you, swollen intrusions that twitch for release everytime they drag along your plushy walls.

“Shit.” Thanos is gripping wounds into your thighs, hips stuttering, fighting his own release. You’re too warm, too perfect and tight around him, he doesn’t want this to end- not yet. Not when he’s got you just where he wants you. His head is falling on his shoulders, chest shaking with his stuttering breaths. “Slow down, slow down. Make it last.”

Nam-gyu listens. Kind of. For good measure he bucks up and slams himself as far as he’ll reach before he finally settles and breathes heavy pants against your collarbone. 

“Slow down, man, fuck.”

“Can't help it, feels so good.” Tongue lapping over your jaw, cruel laughter grazing your skin in huffs. “Look at you. You feel good, baby? Hm?”

You’re still reeling from your orgasm, still riding out the aftershocks. Some strangled whimper-like sound leaves you, he’s laughing at you again, finds everything you do something worth a reaction. He kisses the marks he’s littered on your throat. Shivering and trembling, you’re blitzing on the borderline of over and under stimulation while they’re suspended inside of you. There’s a sense within you, something filthy and needy, that’s so insatiable, unsatisfied until they’ve had their fill with you. Or, perhaps, until you’ve been properly filled with them. 

Thanos presses his forehead against yours. “See? I said we’d take care of you.”

“Feels- I’m-...” You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “I’m so full.”

Nam-gyu groans against your jaw. Your voice has this gravitational pull to him, like he leans on every word, or feels the primal need to meet you at the end of every noise you make. That same primal need also crosses him when you suddenly grind into him, feels the urge to find you halfway and kiss your cervix with the tip of his dick in a sharp buck. It rips a shrill sound from your throat, his tongue tasting the vibrations on your skin. Wet kisses dot your chin before they’re on the corner of your mouth, and then taking over your lips entirely. 

Nimble fingers pinch and knead your clit, sliding through your swollen folds before showering the sensitive nub with attention. Thanos doesn’t wait for any sort of confirmation from you, barely even waits to collect himself before it’s been entirely too long since he’s felt you moving against him. You run your fingers through his hair, feel him sigh against your collarbone, and then he’s dipping down to bite marks into your chest. It’s that same rhythm that drives you insane, nerves buzzing back to life following your earth-shattering orgasm.

Nam-gyu is still by choice for the first time since he’d entered you, something about the way your lips are moving against him keeping him locked in this trance. One of your hands finds it’s way from Thanos’s hair and into Nam-gyus, having to reach over your shoulder to clutch at the back of his black strands. It beckons him, draws him in deeper into the feeling. When he finally does start to move again, it’s different. Different pace, different angle, different sounds, even. Sensual and smooth, a slow drag inch by inch until he’s just buried by the tip, then rocking his hips until he’s pressing hard against your cervix all over again.

You’re trying to be still, trying to not heave out breathless sobs but Thanos is still rubbing you and it’s too much to take- Nam-gyu eats every sound funneled into his lips, tongue tangled with yours, unwilling to let you catch your breath. 

You don’t get even a second of reprieve, their rhythms mismatched but also perfectly timed, never a moment you aren’t full, wrecked with jolting twitches and shaking legs. At this point you’re just along for the ride, nothing but flesh and warmth and slick. A pound of meat  masticated and devoured between them.

Teeth find your left nipple, Thanos’s excited hum meeting your ears when you writhe in response. He speeds up, both his thrusts and his fingers, grunts against your breast and you start to feel it- that deep, deep simmer between your legs. A crescendo up, and up, and up within your belly that mounts alongside  the seconds. You’re so messy and wet that you’re feeling it run along the underside of your thighs, each movement accompanied by slapping skin and trilling moans. 

Up, and up. The pressure building until you’re arching your back and trying to squeal into Nam-gyu’s mouth that you’re right there, you’re gonna-

You seize up around them and wail. It rips through you, spears you like a lance, you aren’t sure how anything in this life could ever feel so good. How anything will ever feel this delicious again. 

Heaven is on earth, and it’s in your shaking hands and leaking pussy and shoved up inside you with their cocks. Surging pleasure washing through you and scrubbing you of everything else except the rut of their hips into yours. 

Nam-gyu cums first, manages to fuck you through you through your own, but no longer than that, growling into your mouth and biting your lips and your biting your jaw when he wrenches himself out of your cunt and paints the underside of your thigh with thick, pearly ropes of his cum. He’s shaking hard, and you’re sure you’re shaking harder, more akin to a leaf in a raging storm than a fellow human being. 

Thanos bites your shoulder. You’re absolutely covered in bites, in drool, in their sweet words lashing into your skin. He’s so close- you can feel him twitching inside of you, his cock pulsating before you feel the spread of his cum coating your walls. It’s thick, it’s red hot, and there’s so much of it that before he even pulls himself out of you it’s already dripping around him and onto the floor. Your head tips back, eyes half lidded, unfocused on the ceiling. 

You’re hollow. You're so empty that it's uncomfortable, carved out and built into their perfect mold. 

“Fucking dick. I pulled out.” Nam-gyu pants, irritated, but not on your behalf. No, irritated because he would have loved to see his own seed seep from your spent pussy and down your trembling thighs. 

When you’re set back down, you forget how to stand. Your knees buckle underneath you in an instant and you plummet, only stopped by Thanos’s arms suddenly hoisting you up from underneath your shoulders. He pulls you to him, your face rubbing drool into the chest of his tracksuit. The ‘O’ patch scratches your face but you can’t be damned to care. You’re too focused on wondering how the hell you’re supposed to walk at all after this- fucked out and completely drunk on sex. Useless and sore and swollen. 

You’re sticky, you’re sweaty, you’re fucking exhausted and barely managing to stay awake now that you’ve settled and the drugs are still in effect. Pretty soon now, when you’re able to stand upright without having someone supporting most of your weight, they’ll have to sneak back out of the room and saunter away to their beds. You’ll have to wash yourself off, again, and figure out how you’re going to get back to your little corner of the dormitory without limping. 

But for now, you just hum out a sound dripping in satisfaction. Your eyes are shutting, all the tensions and the nerves slipping away in the white noise. 

“I have to ask,” You slur. “How long have you guys been planning this.”

Thanos’s chest rumbles with his reply. “You don’t want to know.”

“You should have done it earlier. That was…” You start to laugh. It’s a drained, weary sound, but a laugh nonetheless. “Fuck. That was nice. I’ve wanted that.”

You can practically hear it when Nam-gyu shoots a wide-eyed glare at his friend. 

“I told you!”

[leighsartworks216]

My Pretty Bird

Sylus x gn!Reader

Soooo I got this idea suddenly and I HAD to write it. In my head I imagine you have a shapeshifting Evol that lets you turn into a crow and Ever ran experiments on you that basically mechanized you. Sylus found you and you've been partners ever since. But build whatever backstory you want lol

Warnings: silly, fluff, established relationship, shapeshifting, kissing, nudity, casual nudity, references to Midnight Stealth (Bond)

Word Count: 914

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Third Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Sylus smirks as he approaches you, all too amused with the hijinks Miss Hunter is getting up to.

You are decidedly less amused. Your feathers are all in disarray - some lay sadly on the floor, some are crumpled. You’re working desperately to straighten them out with your beak. Gentle fingers join in the work, caressing and flattening the feathers on your head and neck.

“What did she do to you, hm?”

Once your feathers are all smooth and settled, you hop up onto his shoulder, still bare from his shower and a little damp. He walks over to the bed. He outstretches an arm toward it, which you use as a bridge, stepping down from his wrist to the comforter. He busies himself with gathering clothes.

The familiar sound of shifting metal comes from behind. It’s not grating; softened over years of this happening.

“She shook me!” you cry out. The bed sinks under your weight, now in the shape and form of a human. The familiar red eyes of your bird form stare at his back. “I know you like her, but she’s really pissing me off. Who shakes a bird?!”

He chuckles, ruffling your feathers even more as you glare at him. His towel is tossed carelessly aside as he gets dressed. Rippling muscles are soon hidden with sleepwear and a robe. “She shook you?”

You huff. “Don’t say it like I’m stupid. You know I have it recorded.”

“I know. And I’m sure you’ll make sure she gets hers, soon enough.”

“You got that right.”

The towel is picked up on strands of energy and carried away to the hamper. You watch them as they go. You’ve always enjoyed the way it looks. Like rubies and ash. An unobtainable shiny object.

His hand glides along your jaw, rough calluses rubbing just under your chin. You automatically tilt your head back, eyes drooping in pleasure. “Just a few more days, I promise. You can handle that can’t you?” Damn him and that low timbre voice. On top of the scratches, you’re a goner.

You sigh. His fingers slow to a stop to grab your chin. When you open your eyes, he’s right there, looking at you with a deep fondness.

“Fine…”

He grins as he leans down to capture your lips. He tastes so warm and familiar. A soothing balm to all the stress you’ve been under lately, chasing after Miss Hunter and making sure she’s not being tracked by anyone else. A fitting reward for putting up with her.

When he pulls away, you shoot him a look. “But if she gets near me again like that, I’m pecking her eyes out.”

He chuckles warmly. “I’ll make sure she knows. I can’t have her upsetting my pretty bird like that again so soon.”

“I’d prefer ‘ever again’, but…”

“You’ll find something else to be annoyed about with her.”

“I already have a list.”

“Just a few more days.” His eyes close as he presses a kiss to your cheek. Then he rubs his nose against yours. It makes a fluttering sound of contentment slip free from your chest. And he looks all too smug about it. “Can you do that for me?”

You reach up, fingers slipping into soft white locks. He leans into your touch with his own appreciative grunt. “I can, but only if you call me your pretty bird a few more times.”

It’s the easiest deal he’s ever made. He’s more than happy to provide as he brushes his nose along your cheek, kissing lightly as he goes. “My pretty bird,” he hums lowly as he kisses just behind your ear.

You sink into his attention like always. You expose more of your neck to him without hesitation, giving him full access to kiss and nip at the skin there.

He grazes his teeth along your artificial pulse. “My pretty bird.”

Every mark, every peck is pure reverence. He sighs at the junction of your shoulder. He bites down harder here, hot tongue soothing over the indents of his teeth. “My pretty bird.”

The slightest twitch of your fingers in his hair is enough to draw him back up. His mouth finds yours with ease, kissing you deeply and in absolutely no rush. The cool air of the room chills the patches of his saliva left behind on your skin. It sends a chill down your spine.

You’re loath to pull away, but you can feel the exhaustion that slows his movements. It’s so faint - even Miss Hunter wouldn’t notice it. But you do. You always notice everything when it comes to Sylus.

You give him one last peck. His eyes, half-lidded and beautiful, watch you with unbridled care. “It’s a deal.”

Before his eyes, metal shifts and shrinks, until there are no fingers in his hair and he’s scratching under the chin of a mechanical crow. He smiles. “Goodnight, pretty bird.”

You hop away and fly off to your perch. He watches as you go right back to preening your feathers, as though being up there again has reminded you of Miss Hunter’s cruel acts against you.

He straightens back up with a sigh. Ever will pay for the cruel methods of their research. For everything they’ve done. For everything they did to you. It’s only a matter of time now. And it will be done. All he needs now is for Miss Hunter to find the brooch, tucked safely under the lapel of his robe.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

[girlsworldillusion]

so this is what falling in love is like?

Ominis Gaunt x Gryffindor Reader

Summary: “Ominis, what — what are you trying to say?”

He breathes your name huskily, and you feel your cheeks tingle with the heat of a fresh flush of blush.

“I’m in love with you,” he says earnestly, more whispering the words than saying them, his hand tightening in yours a fraction more, and all you can do is stare at him in utter shock.

Where a night of studying at the Undercroft grows into something much bigger than you expected.

Rated: Explicit (+18)

Word count: 9k

Artist: (x) @oladcnfthb

Author's Note: My first fanfic of the HP universe. Not the last, if I may have a choice. I hope you all like it, your comments will be greatly appreciated by this poor writer.

English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find.

"And then I heard this girl, Grace Withey, or Whitney, I'm not sure now," the boy mutters thoughtfully before dismissing the question with an exquisite wave of his hand, "either way, she was asking if he had time to offer 'some much needed and much appreciated guidance in the Care of Magical Creatures', like she said. She claimed to be a disaster in that class, though it seemed like she was doing quite well before he arrived, if you ask me."

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh, but keep your eyes closed as you listen to Ominis report the detailed case of the latest romantic incident that simply fell into Sebastian's lap - emphasis on report, as this could never be classified as gossip. Ominis Gaunt has never stooped to the social stratagem that is the art of spreading gossip, as he himself makes a point of reminding you every time that possibility is remotely suggested in some witty comment.

After a long study session, you were both lounging carefree on the opulent burgundy couch set against one wall; a gaudy luxury that you fought tooth and nail to add to the cold expanse of the undercroft so that you could rest while you did some reading, or simply when you were too tired to return to your dormitories. Two tall stacks of books rested on the low table in front of you, some even open and scattered across the carpet on the floor, as well as piles of half-scribbled parchment, inkwells and quills. The flickering flames arranged in the braziers hanging on the walls provided an orange illumination that was both functional and comforting to the eyes. In the cushioned space between you two lay the remains of two boxes of Chocolate Frogs - his clearly opened in a much more elegant manner than yours.

Outside the castle the snow fell without stopping, freezing everything around with its cloud of crystals, but inside the walls you felt safe and warm.

"She was clearly interested in more than just his guidance on creature care."

Despite the suggestive tone, there's a soft smile on your lips as you says this, your feet swinging languidly on the tabletop where they're propped up on top of each other.

"No surprise there." He snorts beside you, a sullen quality to his tone that definitely wasn't there a few seconds ago. "This sort of thing always happens to him. And oh, he's so pompous about it too, really insufferable. It's obvious by now that he can have any girl in school, even some boys I dare say, and he's amply and unfortunately very aware of it. It's annoying that he has that kind of power, if you ask me."

This time you can't help the amused chuckle that escapes your lips, perfectly conjuring behind closed eyelids the sullen pout the man is surely making just by his tone of voice.

"Careful now, Gaunt, some poor unsuspecting person who hears you speak like that might interpret your words as jealousy." Your tone oscillates between a weak attempt at reprimand and amusement, enjoying poking the poor man. "What's wrong, haven't you been getting enough attention from the student masses?"

It was a teasing comment, intentional in the aim of maintaining the fun and pleasant atmosphere that surrounded them. But when a few good seconds pass without him saying anything in return, you slowly allow your eyes to open, staring at the Slytherin sitting next to you.

The first thing you notice is how tense his body is; shoulders rigid and head turned away from you, hands clenched tightly on his thighs. He looks uncomfortable in every tiny line of his tall body. He's not denying what you suggested and you've teased him enough times in the past to know that he should have done so already if he disagreed with your words.

Oh

"I would find such a notion rather unbelievable if that were the case, of course, since this is you we're talking about." You murmur slowly when it becomes obvious he's not going to respond, watching his every reaction intently as you fish for information.

"What—wait, what are you talking about?" He looks a little dazed, tilting his head toward you just a fraction, but you continue your train of thought, taking advantage of the fact that you have his attention once more.

"Well, you're Ominis Gaunt. Not only do you have all that physical representation of cold elegance and an aura of royalty that your House so annoyingly likes to impose, but you're also a member of one of the most notorious families in the wizarding world. It's hard to believe that there isn't a line of lovestruck hearts out there just waiting for an opportunity to date you. I bet you're just as popular as Sebastian these days - you're just more discreet about it than him, obviously."

Your comment, although honest in every word, is made innocently, with no apparent justification for any fuss - just sincere curiosity about the question raised. And that's why you're taken aback by his reaction to you. Even though he remains frozen where he sits with all the grace and refinement of an enchanted lord from a fairy tale, the poor man's cheeks burn with such an intense blush that you quickly find yourself worried that he's about to have some kind of silent breakdown.

"I-it's not quite like that." He straightens his already perfect posture as he brings a limp fist to his lips, covering his sudden stutter with a subtle cough that, in and of itself, carries more pomp than you could ever achieve in your entire life - which, of course, only confirms what you've just said. "While my family is admittedly reputed in the wizarding world, I can assure you that it is not in a good way at all. And it goes without saying that everyone here knows it too. They vacillate between avoiding me as if I've been jinxed with a repulsive Slugulus Eructo or fearing me as if I'll Avada them at the slightest sign of movement. That in itself is a major romance deterrent, you know. I don't blame them, of course. My family's crimes extend to me through the bloodline, whether I like it or not. It's inevitable, really."

You part your lips, all too ready to interrupt what was proving to be the beginning of another session of misplaced guilt from the Slytherin, when you see him smirking. His pale cheeks are still stained with that pink dust, but his lips are stretched in a mischievous pull that actually disguises his embarrassment for a few seconds.

"Besides, although I am, as you well know, completely averse to the dark practices of the Gaunts, I confess to taking advantage of all that reputation, sometimes. It suits me at some very specific moments."

You tilt your head, giving him your best unimpressed look.

"Oh, I am quite aware of that. Your readiness to use the Gaunts' reputation for your own benefit was especially evident that night when you threatened to terrorize my last generation if I opened my mouth about the Undercroft. You certainly know how to make a good point when you put intention behind it."

It washes the smile from his lips so instantly it's almost comical, leaving behind only a kicked, embarrassed expression, the flush in his cheeks highlighting the constellation of beauty marks on his porcelain skin.

"I - I already said I was sorry about that, I was just -"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it doesn't bother me anymore. I'm just teasing you." You cut him off with a sly smile. "Anyway, you're not going to get away from the real issue here."

Because, well...you really couldn't stop thinking about the suggestiveness of his previous statement. The possibilities - oh - were running through your brain nonstop. So, against your better judgment, and with your cheeks flush with heat, you find yourself pressing him on it.

"I don't understand what exactly you want to know." He mumbles, trying to cover up his embarrassment with a look of disinterest that is too poor to be taken seriously.

"You...have been with someone before, right?" This time you're deadly direct, no hints or openings for half answers. You had a question and you wanted to clear it up, your embarrassment in uttering such words wouldn't be enough to stop you. "Ah, intimately, I mean."

Obviously, it's not the kind of question that a decent lady would have asked a young man of such high prestige as Ominis Gaunt, you imagine. But after everything you've been through since you started your journey at Hogwarts, you feel bolder than the tolerable standard for young ladies, as if you'd lost some of your subtlety somewhere along the way. But how could you not?

More times than you can remember, you've been teetering on the brink of death, facing enemies who didn't think twice about whether or not you were too young for such things. More times than you can remember, you've been responsible for making decisions that would directly impact the lives of many people, even the wizarding world as a whole. The power in your hands, the skills and the often almost unbearable weight that such responsibilities brought to your life, made your mentality run miles ahead of those of your schoolmates - of society, in general. Inevitably, you felt that circumstances had forced you to develop a sense of urgency and raw honesty that even some adults lacked.

It was true that you lacked practical experience in some intimate matters - now mind you, you didn't exactly have a lot of free time for romantic interests and sex, too busy between the Keepers Trials, running tirelessly through the Highlands performing exhausting tasks for every poor soul who crossed your path - tasks that often culminated in your near death - attending the many classes during the day and the intensive study for the O.W.L.s in the library.

It was a true miracle when you managed to find time to sleep in your own bed in the dormitory - more often than not you were so exhausted that you simply lay down wherever you were and took a nap.

The fact was that you weren't exactly experienced in matters of intimacy, not really. There had been a few daring kisses here and there, of course. Even a few curious hands while you were snuggling with a Ravenclaw boy between the shelves of the library, hidden from Madam Scribner's watchful eyes. But you hadn't gone any further than that with anyone - even though the rumors circulating around school were that you and Sebastian Sallow had once been caught in an embarrassing and quite explicit situation in the Prefects' Bathroom. Which, of course, was a blatant lie. You had only been in the Prefects' Bathroom once and it certainly wasn't for any...carnal purposes.

You suspected that it was Sebastian himself who had started such rumors.

Either way, your lack of experience in the field had never bothered you much. Honestly, you didn't have the energy to bother yourself with it more than superficially. But you’d be lying if you denied that the prospect that Ominis, the most unfairly handsome and well-born boy you’ve ever met, might be as inexperienced as you is doesn’t offer a kind of comfort you didn’t even know you needed — as well as a funny thrill of anticipation in your belly.

You blink slowly as you stare at his handsome profile, bracing yourself for more of his cold scowls and frustrated huffs of impatience — perhaps even a sermon on how unladylike it is to ask such questions. He’s very good at sermons. Instead, however, you’re met with something else entirely. The upturned bridge of his nose is stained with blush, as are his cheeks. His unseeing gaze is turned away from you, his lips pressed tightly together, the corners slightly turned down. He looks…nervous? Distressed? You feel bad for pushing him like this. But as blushing and regretful as you are, the thought of what this means makes your heart beat faster by the second. The thought that you were right about your deductions after all makes your throat almost dry.

"H-hey, Ominis," you stammer awkwardly, but he still doesn't tilt his head in your direction. His arms are crossed over his chest like a physical shield, his entire posture screaming barely contained tension, making you slowly pull your feet off the table and adjust yourself on the couch so that you're sitting sideways to face him better. You take a deep breath, but Merlin, the air between you feels heavy now. It's strange, really; you don't think the two of you have ever been this awkward around each other, except for the first time you had a conversation - which was actually more of a threatening monologue on his part than a conversation per se. The regret of having insisted on this subject begins to weigh on your chest - a sincere fear that something that seemed so harmless to you a few minutes ago could be the cause of a crack in the bond you've arduously cultivated with Ominis is taking root in your mind.

You adjust uncomfortably the red hood of the robe around your neck, thinking that it wasn't worth trying to satisfy your curiosity after all - and let it be recorded for all that a Gryffindor knows when to give up their pride and admit to having made a bad decision, no matter how bitter the aftertaste is on your tongue. With a forced smile on your lips and a hand rubbing the back of your head, you silently pray that your next words will ease the heavy mood that has settled in the Undercroft.

"You know what? Let's forget about it. This is really none of my business and I'm sure that -"

"No." Ominis interrupts you shyly, impossibly redder than before and you immediately shut up, eyes wide as you stare at him with your heart wanting to fly out of your chest. "I've never been like this with anyone." The small tremor in his voice indicates how nervous he feels.

It would be comical if it weren't so desperate how by now you were already certain of this statement and yet it still manages to leave you completely speechless when it leaves his lips. The regret of having started this whole thing is ridiculously more overwhelming than before because you simply don't know what to say now that you've heard what you already knew all along. Thinking back now, what in Godric's name did you plan on saying in the first place? He would confess what you suspected to be the truth and then what?

Congrats, that's what you get for being so inappropriately curious.

"T-there was this girl in fourth year and we, well, she kissed me - but it was weird and a complete accident, it only lasted for a second and...and after that I never, you know...I've never been interested in anyone like that...at least not until -"

You think you might just burst into a ball of flames from how scorching your skin is, and Ominis is obviously as disturbingly embarrassed as you are because he's gesticulating with his hands and babbling nonstop, his nervousness causing him to reveal far more than you had initially asked, making both of you more awkward by the second.

Oh. Oh, Merlin. He hadn't even kissed anyone. At least not really.

What are you supposed to do with this information?!

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, sighing so deeply that his shoulders slump with the movement, deflating the way a balloon punctured by a needle would. 

Despite your brutal state of embarrassment, you frown, leaning forward on the couch so that you’re a little closer to him. “Sorry? Why are you sorry? I’m the one who asked you things that didn’t concern me. If anything, I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

Ominis gives you a shy smile that lacks any sincere joy. “I know, but still. I mean, I shouldn’t have — it’s weird for me to say these things about you, even though I’ve wanted to say them for a while. But I didn’t — I just didn’t want it to be this disastrous.”

In retrospect, you think this might all just be a trick of your overactive imagination. It's quite possible that you simply blacked out while Ominis was telling you about Sebastian's latest romantic endeavor - in his deep, soft voice - and that this is all just a dream.

It's a very plausible option, given that this has happened before. His presence, always so calm and controlled, combined with his mesmerizing baritone have guided you into a lethargic state of drowsiness more times than you can remember. It's just how he makes you feel - relaxed and safe.

Yes, that's what's happening once again. It has to be. Why, for heaven's sake, can't you have just heard what you think you heard, right?

But the way he stands there, serious features and a deep blush on his face, waiting for your answer with a visible degree of insecurity in his normally impassive being, is what makes you finally say something.

"W-was that about me?" You let out quietly, your racing heartbeat somehow accelerating even more, to the point where you question the harm this would do to your health. "When you said you've never been interested in anyone like that, at least until..." you continue, trying to bring some semblance of order to your thoughts, "was it me you were talking about then?"

It took a few seconds before he nodded once.

"I've wanted to talk to you about this for a long time. But there was always something going on - someone you needed to help, a poor creature needing to be rescued in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, a Goblin Helm to be recovered in a cursed cave far away from here..." he chuckles softly and you find yourself laughing back, shy and gentle, though a long exhale leaves your lips as you feel a bit of lightness begin to permeate the air between you two once more.

He reaches for you hesitant, but gently - oh so gently - places his cold hand above yours on the couch. You don't flinch or avoid his touch, though you still stare for a few seconds at the place where his long, pale fingers cover yours, trying to assimilate the unreal image that unfolds in front of you. And when your gaze rises and finally finds his face, it almost breaks your heart.

Realistically, you know he can’t see anything at all, but that becomes an afterthought in your mind as soon as you look at him. His eyes, bright, pale blue orbs like two moon-like spheres, are tilted and fixed at the exact same level as yours — and in this particular moment, you’re certain he’s seeing you, as impossible as that possibility may be. Swallowing the saliva that’s building in your mouth is suddenly a difficult task, but you force yourself to do it anyway.

"Ominis, what—what are you trying to say?”

You whisper slowly, as if the mere question is a secret between the two of you, the unexpected intensity in his cloudy eyes making your heart stutter as he continues to stare at you, his bushy brows furrowed in an expression that’s hard to discern. Suddenly, you realize how close you’re standing. Nothing but a small gap in the couch separates you, where your hands are clasped together and two boxes of Chocolate Frogs still rest. You can smell him, confunsing your mind as you unconsciously lean a little closer to him — fresh mint, chocolate, and something that reminds you of open parchment or the scent of the pages of a rare book.

He breathes your name huskily, and you feel your cheeks tingle with the heat of a fresh flush of blush.

“I’m in love with you,” he says earnestly, more whispering the words than saying them, his hand tightening in yours a fraction more, and all you can do is stare at him in utter shock. The expression on his face is vulnerable, evidenced by the furrowed lines of his brows in what looks almost like agony. But he’s also determined — a single-minded determination that’s enough to steal the breath from your lungs. "It took me a while to understand it, but I think I've been since the day I met you, to be honest. When you arrived late to the Great Hall, out of breath and in a hurry, but still so ecstatic with everything around you - as if being brutally attacked by a dragon while trying to get to school was no big deal. You've been stunning to me ever since. It was impossible not to be completely enchanted by you."

You're at a loss for words, so you don't even try to find them, opting for silence as you repeat his words on a loop in your mind.

It's strange how you always imagined confessions like this should be made in front of silvery moonlit ponds or in lush meadows during the spring season or literally anywhere that could be considered even remotely inspiring for romance. Certainly not in secret spaces filled with dust, crates and training dummies like the Undercroft. But here you are; overwhelmed and speechless by a declaration made in the last place you imagined you'd receive one.

And oh Merlin, you want to believe him, to entertain the idea that someone as utterly adorable as Ominis could feel that way about you - even though you've never been able to explain to yourself how you really felt about him.

Ominis Gaunt has always been an enigma.

The Slytherin's obvious qualities are nothing new to you; his gentle disposition despite his aloof facade and the weight of his family's unsavory reputation, or his polite and gentlemanly manners towards everyone. But these were attributes that anyone with even the slightest interest in him could see, qualities that didn't set him apart that much from others you knew.

But the truth is that, with time and familiarity, you noticed other distinct peculiarities in Ominis.

Leaving aside his ethereal beauty and his tall, majestic physique, which, again, are very obvious positive traits about him, he was the most captivating man you've ever met. The patience he possessed towards others, the fierce loyalty to you and Sebastian, the fact that despite the long sermons that accompanied it, he was always breaking the promises he made to himself in favor to protect and support those he loved. His far above average intelligence, the way he annoyingly always knows the right thing to say - even, and especially, at the times when you don't want to hear it. And, of course, his most attractive side in your opinion: the unexpected softness in his dark nature - it's about him being able to frighten and silence an entire room with just his imposing presence and still be the one to comfort and care, with kindness and respect.

You certainly understood that Ominis was someone seriously conflicted. The way he sometimes tended towards a cold temperament, or how, at times, he let his emotions guide him to his dark and cold side, did not go unnoticed by you. But still, you saw how he tried hard to let his gentle side prevail in his manner.

But

Did noticing these little details that would normally go unnoticed by others mean that you reciprocate his feelings?

Well, you felt safe with him. Even safer than you felt with Sebastian. While the latter was undeniably a friend you held in high regard (and even a small crush, if you were honest) he did not give you the same sense of complete comfort and trust that Ominis did. With Sebastian you felt like you had to constantly prove yourself, like just being who you were was never enough for him. Now with Ominis...

And as you stare at him, open-mouthed, searching for the right words to respond to his unexpected declaration, you think that maybe that's why you've never been able to put a name to what you felt for him. There was no heady, bubbling, flowery passion to announce any feelings, like there had been with your other brief flirtations before - or even with Sebastian. There was only the warmth, the relief, the peace of feeling whole and completely safe.

The feeling of knowing that if you were in a life-or-death situation and could count on only one person to save you, he would be the one to come to your rescue.

Godric

Realization borns in your chest to the point where you feel like you could float, like the feeling after eating a mouthful of Fizzling Whizzbees. Suddenly, you feel like you have so much to say, but you don't know how. Ominis, as usual, is much more eloquent:

"You wanted to know if I've ever been intimate with anyone, and my answer is no." He seems more hesitant, as if his hopes have been diminished a bit along with your prolonged silence, but his voice is still soft - as is the grip of his fingers on yours. "I've never been intimate with anyone because the only person I've ever wanted to be with was you."

All the air in your lungs leaves you in a sharp exhale, the warmth of deep admiration, affection and trust filling your chest and making your heart beat wildly. Overcome with emotion, you look once more at his hand holding your smaller one, opening your mouth, fumbling for the words in a confusing jumble of vowels and consonants.

"It's okay," Ominis assures you with a sad smile, his large milky eyes slanted downward, staring blindly at where he feels you squeeze his fingers. "I know it's a lot to take in at once. I don't mean to pressure you into anything, I swear. I just, I guess I just needed to tell you how I feel. But I understand if...well...I really understand that you don't feel the same way." His thick eyebrows sink, his face hardening slightly, as if he's already prepared for your rejection.

"Ominis." His name is a sigh from your lips. Touched. Longing.

You don't know how exactly what was supposed to be just another night of studying has brought you here. All you know is that you intend to enjoy every moment of this unexpected confession, eager to discover what new paths it might lead to.

The heat of Ominis so close combined with the way your heart had raced as you focused on his perfectly flushed lips, and how his scent was making your head spin, made you suddenly feel more impulsive than ever. And that's saying something considering your history of questionable choices.

You decide to go for it.

"Can I kiss you?" You ask in a frail whisper as you realize that nothing you could say would be enough to make him understand the emotions you're feeling right now.

His head snaps up at the question, his eyes wide and his lips parted.

"W-what? I mean, yes. Merlin, yes you can -" he breathes quickly, his pale skin stained with a deep blush, his orbs darting aimlessly. "But I've never actually kissed anyone - I might not be as good at it as -"

You cut it.

"I seriously doubt that."

This only makes him blush harder and you almost regret what you said, rushing to save him from the situation.

"B-but I can show you how, if you prefer."

You’re almost breathless at this point, vaguely reminding yourself that you’re no queen of the experience either, but when he nods eagerly, everything flies out the window and it’s like the pulsing muscle in your chest has given up on this whole adrenaline show and simply stopped beating.

Well, that’s it, you think as you push the boxes of Chocolate Frogs onto the rug with trembling fingers and move closer to Ominis until your legs are touching.

You’re almost facing each other on the couch now, his breath fanning your face, gentle and soft, and you stare for a moment into the milky expanse of his eyes. Pale skin dotted with a few beauty marks, perfectly sculpted jaw, elegant nose, flushed lips slightly parted.

For a moment, shame takes over you to the point where you almost turn around and beg him to pretend none of this happened. Almost. But his thumb lovingly caressing your knuckles is what grounds you in this moment once again.

You wouldn’t be a self-respecting Gryffindor if you gave up on your goals over a little embarrassment, would you?

“Right.”

You gently cup Ominis’ jaw between your fingers, delighted when he immediately leans into the touch, unable to hide the small hitch in your breath as you feels his heart rate spike as press on a pulse point.

You lean closer to him than you’ve ever been before, your noses not even four inches apart, his minty breath tickling your face. "Close your eyes, please,” your voice trembles weakly and you wet your lips before continuing, your skin so heated that you’re sure Ominis can feel the flames emanating from it without even touching you, “and then just do what feels right, I guess – let your body guide you.”

You didn’t even know what you were saying anymore, but there he was, bathed in the flames of the braziers and the partial darkness of the Undercroft; his long, thick eyelashes fanning over his flushed cheekbones as he does exactly what you say, more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in your life.

He keeps one hand covering yours to stroke your fingers back and forth, his other hand, however, is on his own thigh, clenched into a tight fist – like a restraint. Restraint for what? You’re not sure. But the possibilities still conjure a swarm of butterflies in your belly.

Ominis leans in a little closer, almost unconsciously, parting his lips and inhaling audibly as you exhale a soft sound. Your hand slides down the sharp line of his jaw, stroking the curve of his ear with your thumb until you rest your fingers delicately on the back of his neck, guiding him to extinguish the last few inches that separate you as you let your own eyes drift closed. With a tentative brush of your lip against his, you press forward, sealing your lips and your heart with his in that moment.

The first touch is nothing and absolutely everything you imagined.

You sigh.

For the first second you freeze, afraid that you have no idea what you would do now that you finally felt Ominis Gaunt's plush lips on yours, but apparently your previous advice to him is very convenient and your instincts take over the worry almost instantly.

Your lips mold between his like a perfect fit, soft and moist, his heat invading your mouth in shy puffs. You melt almost immediately, letting the kiss remain chaste - a firm but soft pressure, with gentle movements over his.

All tension drains from your body because this is familiar; sweet, warming your body from the inside, like drinking butterbeer with friends in front of a fireplace on a cold winter's day - comfortable, safe. But it also gives you an anxious tingle that makes you unconsciously squeeze your legs together; your stomach twists and turns with funny somersaults, the swarm of butterflies more agitated than ever.

Having your lips collide with his, the softness and fresh taste he exudes, you realize how much you miss this - even if it's the first time you're experiencing it with him. So much for emotional incoherence.

Ominis breathes a shaky, heated breath into your mouth, fingers releasing your hand to grip your wrist in an almost desperate gesture.

You're the first to pull back, suddenly dizzy, blushing even more when he chases your lips for a few inches before stopping himself. Through half-lidded eyes, you watch him slowly begin to open his too, a dazed look on his face, with panting lips and rosy cheeks that make him look both childish and incredibly sinful at the same time.

"O-Ominis," you whisper, panting as if you've just finished climbing one of the mountains in the Highlands. “That was…”

In a game-changing moment, he furrows his brows and locks his jaw once before parting his lips to say, “Can we do this again? I mean, do you want to… will you let me do it again? Like, right now?”

Despite your earlier determination, you find yourself whipped by the abrupt change in his tone. At the restless eagerness in his breathy voice, at the possessive grip on your wrist. How, in the blink of an eye, the tables seem to have been turned and he’s the one taking control now. But inexplicably, your own greed for more collides with his and you find yourself nodding, before remembering that he couldn’t possibly see your silent consent.

“Yes, please…”

Unlike you thought, he doesn’t immediately pull you to his lips. What he does, however, stuns you more than any alternative. His fingers, long and elegant, adorned with a few rings that are surely worth more than your life, close around the sides of your waist as soon as the words leave your lips, hoisting your body off the couch with such blatant ease that it would surprise you if you didn’t have more shocking things to deal with at the moment. Like, for example, the fact that he made you sit facing him.

On his lap.

You gasp, absolutely mortified, but, removed from all logic, you make no move to escape his grip; allowing your legs to remain parted on the sides of his thighs, hips against his, hands gripping his broad shoulders for stability.

Ominis, unlike you, seems quite at ease with the awkward position he’s placed you in, releasing your waist to tentatively raise his cold fingers to your burning face, pale blue eyes intensely and greedily locked on your features - features he could never see. Not in the usual way.

“I can?”

Deeply disturbed by the way he’s looking at you and how quickly things have climbed, you can’t find the words to respond, choosing instead to take both of his wrists in your delicate, trembling fingers and guide his hands to your face. You try to control your rapid breathing as his fingers trace the angles of your eyebrows and jaw and the soft roundness of your cheeks and chin, the icy feel of his rings prickling your skin. His eyes slowly close, his brows furrowed in concentration, as if he’s replicating the image of your face in his mind.

“You always smell like honey and lemon tea leaves.” He murmurs with a satisfied hum, and your eyelashes flutter along with your heart as he traces the arch of your eyebrow and then the line of your nose. Your mouth falls open unconsciously when his fingers touch the softness of your lower lip, and it’s Ominis who gasps this time. You watch in embarrassed ecstasy as his face darkens with a blush, the muscle in his jaw twitching once more, his thick eyelashes fluttering over the apple of his cheeks.

You nervously smooth the green hood of the robe around his neck, playing with the texture of the fabric to distract yourself from the intense emotions that threaten to make you faint.

“Your heart is beating so loud I can hear it from here,” he says softly, tracing the delicate cupid’s bow over your lips, a mischievous tug at the right corner of his mouth.

Your eyes widen a little as you let out a shy giggle, still pretending to maintain a confidence that has surely flown out the window long ago. Ominis once told you that since he lacked the fundamental sense of sight, his other senses have been immensely enhanced over the years, including hearing. And, well, your heart was beating so loudly and unkindly as the quickening footsteps of a Graphorn.

The thorough exploration stops for a moment so he can gently cup your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, and you feel the slightest pressure toward him. He pulls you straight to him.

Your faces are almost touching once more. You feel his soft breath on your cheek, hear his light but greedy intake of breath. His grip tightens the tiniest fraction.

Soft lips press against your cheek.

He doesn’t rush at all. The kiss lingers. A warm, syrupy sensation spreads through your body. Your hands tighten in the fabric around his neck. His lips press a little deeper, the tip of his nose nudging your temple affectionately. A warm sigh blows over your flushed skin before he pulls away. His fingers trail, impossibly soft, along your jaw in comforting movements as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, your other cheek, and another to the tip of your nose. His contradiction shocks you as much as it always has; how one moment he can be shy and hesitant and the next the most confident and dominant person in the world.

“So beautiful, sweet girl.”

You’re about to scream, bubbles of affection and desire exploding in your chest, your fingers itching to pull him in for another kiss. Wanting — no, needing — his lips on yours once more. You don’t have much control left, though. He’s stolen your confidence and turned it into a messy, tangled puddle of wants. You know what you want, but you don’t dare take it. Not when he’s clearly calling the shots like this. You’re frozen, barely breathing, and only vaguely aware that he’s touching your neck now, tilting your head so your faces are pressed together as he push his lips to yours again.

Merlin, yes

This time you actually shiver beneath his fingers, a helpless noise rising from your throat straight to his mouth. His other hand tightens around your waist, and the one on your neck slides into your hair, his fingers digging into your scalp.

This kiss is clearly different from the last, bolder and hungrier from the first contact. And you actually find yourself questioning the veracity of his claim about being inexperienced at this, because by Merlin' sake, he certainly seems very skilled to you.

You assume this is another one of those inexplicable situations where he’s exceptionally good at whatever it is he sets out to do, even if it’s the first time he’s doing it. The thought almost irritates you, as it reminds you of your first kiss — the one that was an awkward, painful mess of teeth chattering and more saliva than there should have been. But just as quickly as the feeling appears, it’s gone.

Your head feels light and buoyant, and it feels a lot like being enchanted with a Wingardium Leviosa the exact moment his tongue brushes against your bottom lip. Then, all you can seem to hold in your mind is the sensation — the heat of his tongue in your mouth, the almost painful stab as he pulls your head back by your hair, the shocking, abject excitement that surges as he starts to act more roughly. You moan, and he wraps his arm around your back to pull you so close to him that your chests are pressed tightly together.

You’re not sure when you do it, but behind your closed lids you swear you see entire constellations exploding with the sensations he gives you with his kiss.

There’s a certain degree of inexperience in the way his tongue moves inside your mouth, but that’s nothing more than a tiny detail when compared to the absolute hunger with which he seems to want to devour you. His saliva, like all of him, seems to melt on your tongue with the most addictive mint flavor - and, deliciously, the lingering taste of the chocolate you both ate not long ago.

It’s all overwhelming, perfect but overwhelming, and the dizziness comes faster than you could have anticipated, making your movements slower and heavier. A wet breath, a grunt from him, another maddening kiss, lips seeking lips, soft cotton under your fingertips. Ominis’s robe feels like a lifeline, and you grab it with everything you’ve got.

If you focused on something other than the sensation, you might notice how heated you both are and how flushed you look. Maybe you could notice Ominis’ hand gently releasing the death grip of your hand on his robe to place the aching fingers on the back of his head.

Just when your nails unconsciously scrape his scalp to pull a few strands of blond hair between your fingers, Ominis parts his lips between yours to release the most sinful of sounds — something that lies somewhere between a growl and a moan, and the thing goes like a lightning bolt straight between your legs.

It’s you who pulls him back into a feverish kiss this time, wet, breathy sounds escaping you both between the clash of your tongues as you press against each other. You’re hyper-aware of how hard he is beneath you, his length straining against the fabric of his uniform pants, and you blush — but you want him even more. Delicately but purposefully, you catch his swollen bottom lip between your teeth to tug once before licking it, but Ominis gasps so loudly and closes his hand around your neck so unexpectedly that you actually choke on a startled, high-pitched sound.

Regardless of the adrenaline rush the action generates, or perhaps precisely because of it, you brace your knees better on the couch around him, rocking your pelvis against Ominis’s before you even realize what you’re doing, enjoying the strangled gasp he lets out despite the almost fierce grip on yyour throat.

“Again. Do it again,” he breathes against your lips, resting his forehead against yours, and you do. Ominis begins to move too, thrusting his hips up while you thrust yours down, getting into a rhythm that has you both gasping in the silence of the Undercroft, the flames of the braziers the only other noises to be heard around.

His hand slides under your shirt without any warning, over the soft skin of your stomach and to the edge of your bra before pushing it up and over your breast. The shock of his cold fingers on your heated skin is so much that you cry out, your nipple hardening in his broad palm as you push harder against him, and the shuddering gasp that leaves him in response has you aching to touch him too. And, by Godric, has the Undercroft always been this suffocatingly heat?

You pull apart for air as Ominis chases your lips with his, the feverish movements of your hips momentarily ceasing.

“Ominis…?” Your unspoken question hangs in the air between you, curious, thirsty to know how far you both intend to let this go.

His nose brushes against yours, his brows furrowed in anguish, his eyes pale and intense. “Every…Every single time I heard you, or smelled you near, I felt this. This desire. I’ve imagined you, like this, with me. So many times. It’s always been you. I want this so bad.”

“Y-yes,” you whisper as breathlessly as he does, your words a shared secret between you two and the darkness. “I want this too. I want you.”

He sighs in rapture, pressing his grip on your throat a fraction further, kneading his hand over your breast until he catches a nipple between his fingers, teasing the flesh with the cold silver of his signet ring. “Then don’t stop. Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

The commanding quality in his normally restrained tone coupled with his unusual choice of dirty language causes a spontaneous clench in the wet region between your legs. With unsteady fingers you snake your hand under his shirt, mimicking the same liberty he’s taken with you, and feel his back arch in response as you slide your soft and warm palm across the hard planes of his abdomen. With your other hand, you hold a silky handful of his hair, pulling him into a hard kiss as you roll your hips over him again - both of you moaning at the sensual grinding of your intimate parts.

“Baby, just like that -” he breathes shakily as he pulls away from the kiss and turns his head. At first you think he might just be hiding his face in the crook of your neck, but when you feel a pair of warm lips on the delicate flesh of that area your eyes flutter shut.

“Ominis,” is all you can manage to say as you tilt your head to the side for better access and hold him tighter by the grip on the back of his neck, rolling your hips to press yourself against the Slytherin as he begins to gently suck on the sensitive skin.

There are so many layers between the two of you. Ominis’s pants, his underwear, your panties, the heavy robes draped over your bodies, the uniform shirts. Barriers that at the moment only serve to prevent the actual touch of skin on skin. And, Merlin, you want so badly to feel his skin against yours, but you feel like you can’t rush it. Either way, neither of you seem to have the patience for the task at the moment, his mouth on your neck feeling so incredibly good that you can’t think of stopping him from continuing – not even so you can undress.

This intimacy with him already surpasses any practical experience you’ve had, any previous secret make out session. The adrenaline coursing through your veins is more than you’ve ever felt before – more electrifying than raiding Goblin and Ashwinder encampments, more than rescuing a Hippogriff right under Theophilus Harlow’s nose, more than completing a Trial from one of the Keepers. And the sheer euphoria and newness of it all, the overwhelming and unfamiliar sensations, his panting breaths in your ear, the needy grip of his hands on your body, his cock pressed greedily between your legs – and, most of all, the fact that it’s him, is pushing you rapidly towards your inevitable end. You’ll come soon, and for the first time, not from your own fingers.

Ominis licks a particularly hard bite mark he’s just left (in a place that’s going to be pretty troublesome to hide, you think) and pulls back a few inches as you both move together, leaving you alone to deal with the overwhelming image of his face carved in lust; the way his porcelain skin flushes and his kiss swollen mouth opens in a long sigh, pearly eyes half-lidded between his thick lashes as he grinds eagerly against you, the normally perfectly straight strands of hair now messy from your fidgeting fingers, falling across his forehead in a way that’s disturbingly sexy.

“I thought something like this would never happen. I never thought you’d want me the same way. Not someone like me.”

The way he speaks, breathless and feverish, yet so vulnerable and sincere, has you tearing up before you even realize it, sinking your fingers into the space between his chest, right above where his heart flutters like the wings of a Golden Snitch.

“Ominis...you’re so beautiful. You’re perfect. I-I’m so sorry I didn’t notice your feelings before. But I’m here now - you have me now.”

The breath seems to be knocked out of him by your words and you can taste his need as your mouths push together again in a slick mess of saliva and teeth - this time in the right way. Your own mind goes blank, any capacity for thought draining from you as he releases your breast to bring both hands under the skirt of your uniform, possessively grabbing the soft cheeks of your ass between his fingers to pull your body in time with his thrusts.

“Salazar, how can you be so good?” He groans as he breaks the kiss and shamelessly grinds your quivering pussy against his swollen cock, the fabric of his pants growing wet - as much his fault as yours. “Oh, I…fuck, y/n, harder. Harder, baby, please.”

You feel like your face is literally on fire, but you do as you’re told, grinding yourself hard against Ominis and watching with hypnotic attention as his eyes drift closed, his head tilting back against the back of the couch as his hips thrust upwards more roughly. The Adam’s apple in his slender, pale throat bobs with each hard swallow, his skin beginning to glisten with a subtle sheen of sweat. He’s so gorgeous, the sight of him ravished like this is so enchanting that it takes a few seconds for you to realize he’s mumbling something - and a few more seconds for it to sink in that you don’t understand the language.

Because he’s speaking in Parseltongue.

You don’t think he even realizes what he’s doing, considering his reservations about the dialect, too lost in the dizzying rush of pleasure. You are, however, hyperaware of the sounds that flow with hypnotic fluidity from his parted lips; harsh hisses, elongated chirps, vibrant trills of a pink tongue…

You may not understand what he’s saying, but you don’t need to be an expert in the speech to know that it’s definitely not something that should be said in public.

Your cheeks flush as he hisses something that sounds particularly filthy through clenched teeth, skin flushed and eyebrows furrowed in an almost irritated frown — which only makes him more irresistible to your eyes.

You can’t help the way your legs widen to their maximum limits, trying to mold your pussy to the thick line of his cock hidden beneath his pants as best you can.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” he whispers, seemingly back to normal speech (a part of you regrets this), his mouth opening in a guttural moan.

“O-Ominis—” You say, tasting his name in your mouth and it almost sounds like a question, but he fucks himself harder against you, clawing at the flesh of your ass to keep you in place, thrusting his hips into yours until you’re moaning louder — even with the barrier of fabric separating you, you feel it perfectly when the rounded head of his cock manages to hit the exact spot where your clit is.

“Louder,” he growls, lifting his head to you once more, chasing that beautiful sound that came out of your mouth like a starving man. “Let me hear who you’re rubbing yourself against like that.” He leans down and licks a stripe down your throat to your ear.

“Oh, Ominis—” You gasp louder, arching your neck to give him more acess. You can’t even finish your sentence, your lips parted in an “o” as his cock pushes against your pussy in the sweetest way. Your thighs are trembling now, and it feels so good, and you’re going to come, you know you will. “Please, please, you’re going to make me-” the muscles in your stomach are already clenching in anticipation, your back arching, and there’s a high-pitched sound wanting to rip from your throat and you know it’s going to be loud if you can’t control yourself.

“Come on, that’s it, just like that,” he rasps, and your moans grow more intrepid, until they finally turn into desperate gasps as you feel yourself one small step away from the edge.

It feels a little like going crazy, like being out of your mind, just using each other, fucking dirty and rough through your clothes, and you barely realize you’re digging your nails into the skin of his chest until Ominis’s head is jerking back, a sound that fluctuates between a moan of pleasure and pain leaving his lips — even as he murmurs a ‘keep going, please don’t stop.’

“Give it to me, my pretty girl,” he murmurs breathlessly, and you pull the blond strands of his hair between your fingers, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open with sounds that only make his grip on your ass grow greedier. Fuck, that feels good. “Come on, y/n, baby—”

His needy plea is what sends you flying over the edge. Within seconds, your eyes are watering hard, a spiral of lightning-fast heat hitting you as your pussy flutters and clenches around emptiness, the familiar wetness soaking your panties even more.

You cover your mouth a second too late, nearly choking on the scream you muffle into the sweaty palm of the hand that was once under his shirt, your orgasm ripping through your body without any subtlety. Neurons collapsing, couch creaking with the force of your movements, vision blurring and darkening at the edges - but Ominis isn't done with you.

When your drunken gaze flickers open to focus on his face, you notice how absolutely enraptured he looks, his pale eyes locked on your face as if he can actually see you in your breakdown.

Your body is limp and shaking, but you press your forehead against his as he struggles to keep up the pace now that you've given in to exhaustion. Your mouth is parted as he breathes in and out right next to your lips, eyes half-lidded. You lean in to kiss him gently on the lips as he thrusts hard into you, cupping his face to pepper kisses across his cheeks amidst his moans.

One of the hands on your ass comes up to tangle in your hair and tilt your head back so he can kiss your jaw. He thrusts into you hard enough that your body jumps up, but you hold on to him as best you can. Your bodies as entangled as they can be.

You even try to muster the strength to rock your hips against him, but his fingers in your ass tighten to keep you in place as he picks up the pace himself.

His fingers were digging into your flesh and your hair so hard it would have been painful in any other scenario. But not in this one. As it was, it was a reminder of how deep he was falling, how much he seemed to need this, need you, judging by his noises. 

“Come on,” you whisper when you manage to slide your lips to his ear, both of you sweaty and flushed, your little fingers scratching the back of his neck in comforting motions as you encourage him to reach his limit, “come for me, Ominis. Please, please -”

It works. Ominis parts his lips almost immediately, giving a husky moan of release that makes your pussy quiver back to life, his larger body tensing beneath yours, shuddering once, twice. His pale, cloudy eyes look watery for a few seconds, and his perfectly chiseled cheekbones are stained with the most charming blush beneath the sweat on his skin — fuck, gorgeous, that’s what he is.

He collapses back against the couch completely after a while, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame to keep you clinging to him. Not that he needs to. You’re too languid to move. Too exhausted and spent to care about anything or anyone other than him.

His head rests against your collarbone, rising and falling with your ragged breaths. Your arms wrap around him, your hand still lightly stroking his hair. There are blond strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, and you do your best to brush them back when he looks up at you, though his eyes are still closed, visibly pleased with the end result of this study session.

His own fingers run through the unruly strands of hair around your face, brushing a few behind your ear with a gentle caress. He opens his eyes after a while, orbs cloudy and ethereal, but you swear you can see an infinite constellation of glowing dots on their pale screen.

“I…” he begins hesitantly, his voice a little firmer now, though he still wets his swollen lips before continuing. “This meant a lot to me. You have no idea how much. But I don’t want to assume anything - I just, you don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to - you know, don’t feel like you have to be with me just because I…” he sighs, swallowing hard, trying to find the words to say something you already understand.

“Shhh,” you place the tip of your index finger over his lips, chuckling softly when he blushes, “I may have taken a while to realize it, but I also want to see where this can lead us. I do, Ominis.”

He sighs in relief, as if he’s come up for air after a long time underwater, cradling your face between the broad palms of his hands.

"Salazar, that's so good to hear. I really didn't know how I was going to go back to acting like just friends after what happened, if it was your decision." He murmurs seriously, but his sharp features are relaxed as he rests his forehead against yours.

"Don't be so dramatic." You roll your eyes as weakly scold him, though your heart is warm and cozy inside your chest, embracing this moment for what it is - precious. "Didn't you hear what I said just now?"

He pulls back a few inches, his nose wrinkling slightly as he tries to figure out what you're talking about.

He's so cute.

You can't help yourself before you purse your lips into a pout and plant a tender kiss on the tip of his nose.

"I told you you have me now, little fool."

The smile he gives you in response is extremely rare; full and bright, two cute dimples on each side of the cheeks, showing off his perfect teeth; everything as charming as the rest of him. Even though he doesn't say anything after your declaration, seeing something so unusual directed at you already tells you everything you need to know. You sigh in excitement, letting him pull you by the nape of your neck for another kiss, pouring all the adoration he feels for you into the act.

Your skin is sticky with sweat, your hair a mess of knots, your clothes wrinkled and askew, the space between you a wet, embarrassing mess - the heat from both of your robes heating your skin to an almost suffocating level. But neither of you makes any move to separate, or even to pick up your wands and cast a simple cleaning spell - too enraptured with each other and so completely satisfied that you happily ignore everything else.

You feel so happy. And, most importantly, ready for what is to come.

Outside the castle, the snow falls without stopping, freezing everything around with its cloud of crystals. But here, in this dusty and unlikely place for romance, you feel safe and warm.

[jynxpsiche]

About daeho,can you write him being in the game and then meeting gn reader that was like taller than them whehagwgwgwg

OMG SURE BB! <3 so reader is like 6’4’’ (193 cm) a bit taller than our beloved! I implied reader as a foreigner and an aspiring model who got scammed !! Hope you like it! Thx for sending me this request and remember to stay hydrated!! <3 <3

futile insecurities

kang dae-ho (player 388) x gn!reader

🎐. summary: going to South Korea to try becoming a model was the dream that led you there in a foreign country. convinced that you finally found a recruiter you later learnt the truth behind it. so that’s why you decided to call that number and try to win some easy money to get back on track. but even if you felt all the prejudices from others you managed to find someone who appreciated you for who you really were.

🎐. warnings: gender neutral reader, no use of y/n, canon squid game gore and violence, minor swearing, reader is a foreigner, no proofread. English is not my first language!

requests are open !!

Screams and cries.

That was all Dae-ho heard in that fragment of time. People running desperate to somehow save their lives, pleadings and begs leaving their trembling lips hoping to leave that place after what they witnessed.

It should have been easy. An ‘in and out’ situation, you know? Just to gather some easy money to pay off some debts. To start a new decent life.

At least, that’s what Dae-ho thought. And supposedly everybody else, too.

Now they were running for their lives, escaping and avoiding the claws of death.

Shot after shot they fell to the ground not giving any signs of life. Their dull eyes staring off into space. No more light behind those empty gazes.

That unbearable sound of constant shooting overpowered the unstoppable screams and the former marine forced himself to stand still and to stay froze on the spot.

However, his will was slowly crumbling, the trembles in his fingers more persistent and clearly evident, but he tried to contain it. He couldn’t die like this.

Then a voice.

Like a signal sent from above to save them all.

The same man from the beginning of the game. Player 456.

He had played these games before, or so he declared, but right now that statement was becoming more convincing minute by minute.

It was true that when they were eliminated they were going to get killed. And the only way to survive and pass the game was to hide behind someone taller and form a straight line. The robot’s eyes couldn’t detect movements from behind something. And the player 456 proved it so.

Immediately Dae-ho offered his help, hiding behind his broad structure as many people as possible. It was in his genes to help others.

Numerous lines formed all over the field in no time and his eyes incredulously spotted a tall player leading one of the lines.

They were taller than an average korean person, so he supposed they were a foreigner. Their steps were quick and long and even with their tall height they seemed so agile and fast, ready to sprint if necessary.

When he glanced at them from time to time he felt a sense of tranquility pervade him. Watching them waltz through the field with that elegance and velocity helped him concentrate on his current goal: survive and pass the game.

And he did.

The moment he passed the finish line he felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. But even after passing the game his mind was immediately on you.

He searched you through the players with an frenetic gaze, scanning everybody and then he spotted you, slightly crouched down and gently reassuring an old lady who couldn’t stop showing you her gratitude for saving her and her son’s life.

Slowly he approached you, the old lady and the son off somewhere else, leaving you alone.

He didn’t know why but he felt his pulse rushing and the blood pumping loudly in his veins. Trying to act casual he cleared his throat hoping to catch your attention. And he did.

You turned around with a quizzical look on your face and only then he noticed your big and bright eyes scrutinizing him from the bottom to the top. He also paid attention to how taller you were than him. He had to tilt his head up a bit.

He met your gaze and forcefully managed to send down the lump in his throat. Breathtaking. That was what he thought when he saw you.

“Can I help you?” Your soft voice reached his ears and for a moment he thought that in reality he was dead and the person in front of him was an angel. But he regained his focus.

"You...you're really tall" his mouth spat out those words without being processed by the brain first and he should have thought of better words to say because he immediately saw how your expression morphed from a confused one to and irritated one. "Thank you, I didn't know that" you barked back with a calm fury, even scarier than a normal one.

And after that statement you went your way without looking back in his direction and he felt devastated at that.

Dae-ho only wanted to get to know you better and to express his admiration for how you handled the game with cold blood.

With a fallen expression he followed the other players back to the dorm room when the game ended. A lot of people had been eliminated and of course the amount of money gained from their deaths convinced more of the majority to continue playing.

The former marine stared at the blue patch on his chest and a pressing weight tortured him again. He needed the money to pay of his debts. He didn't want to fret his family further, already too much on their plate.

During the vote he didn't really ponder about it too much, but simply followed his insticts and press the circle. Only when your number was called he noticed your slumped and insicure figure instead of the confident one he found on the field. He surely heard all the whispers coming from the others and how they were effecting you.

And it was then that Dae-ho realised he should have voted X. Beside his family, who was still good financially compared to him he had no one out there, but when you came into the picture, even though he didn't know you at all and somehow managed to offend you, he wanted to protect you.

You looked brave on the outside, but he knew how fragile and breakable you were on the inside. Just like him.

He felt a strange bond with you: for him you two were very similar. And maybe he wasn't so wrong.

His gazed stayed focused on your figure, he didn't miss the slight tremble of your hand when you pressed the red button and the quick little steps you took to join the other side opposed to his.

Regret was eating him alive. And he felt the need to redeem himself.

His attentive eyes immediately spotted your figure on the stairs where your bunk and also player 456's was situated. You had decided to stick with him, since both of you wanted to leave that place so bad.

Dae-ho slowly tried to approach you, your gaze fixated on the small tray of food in your lap, while player 390, another member of your 'team', was talking with player 456. You were oddly silent.

Only when he reached a rather close proximity the other two noticed him. You also acknowledged his presence and a cold expression settled on your face.

He still felt bad for how he had treated you, even if it wasn’t his original intention. He couldn’t change the past but was right on time to make the best out of the present.

Player 390 was the first to speak up, “what are you doing here?” Dae-ho froze on the spot and transferred his gaze from you to the old man now standing behind you, “I wanted to join your team. I found player 456’s speech really stimulating and I would like to help you all to get out of here.” He stated firmly after he took a deep breath of encouragement.

The man looked at him from head to toe, “I think I could be a good addition since I was a marine” he added, showing off his tattoo. At that sight the man proudly took off his hoodie and flashed him the same tattoo.

“If you want to get out…” the two men were interrupted by another voice “…then why did you vote to continue with the games?” It was player 456 who had spoken, his voice serious and unshakable.

His gaze was set on Dae-ho who gulped his anxiety and gathered some courage to face the supposed leader of the team. “Because I have no one and nothing waiting for me out there so I thought to give it a chance, but—“ he stopped himself, moving his gaze to your figure, warming up a bit, “then I found something worth fighting for…”

You noticed how his gaze was locked on you and the sudden warmth and gentleness in his eyes, making your heart skip a beat. So you simply adverted your gaze and focused it on your lap again.

You wanted to appear composed, his words from before still lingering in your mind.

Gi-hun also understood the reason behind the guy’s change of heart and with a small sigh he accepted Dae-ho into the team, convinced that someone like him would have been a great addition.

The young former marine thanked him profusely and then uncertainly took a seat beside that tall and breathtaking person. He wasn’t aware of being staring at them but they noticed since they felt his gaze on them, so they decided to call him out.

“What do you want now? It wasn’t enough what you had said earlier?” He immediately picked up their irked tone and considered this as the perfect opportunity to apologize and explain the situation.

“I’m sorry if I offended you before, it wasn’t my intention” he replied firmly but without looking at them in the eyes, still not brave enough to face them at the moment, “I must admit I had been shocked when I saw you” “but!” He immediately added, to avoid any type of misunderstanding “but…I didn’t find you strange or annoying like the majority of the players here…”

Dae-ho didn’t know if now he had to be sincere with them and possibly making a fool of himself or simply apologizing. They had been looked down enough by others and by how they know showed themselves, closed off and slightly insecure about their aspect, he felt the need to speak the truth, facing any type of consequences.

Gaining all his bravery the former marine locked his gaze with theirs, who were simply ogling at him during his speech, and when he did it was over for him: their big bright eyes observed at him with an indescribable warmth and surprise.

“actually…” he felt himself shift closer to them, their eyes never breaking contact, “…during the game I thought you were so brave and elegant. The grace you showed by crossing the field left me…breathless”

You widened your eyes at that statement, throwing you off guard.

No one had ever called you elegant or saw any type of grace in you.

You had always wanted to become a model and being blessed by such height was a gift and a sign from above. But unfortunately you lacked of delicacy and charm, making you feel humiliated and a failure.

When you tried different auditions you had always been rejected, neither being able to pass the first selection because they all grimaced when they saw you trembling on those heels.

Though, you never lose hope and always practiced with walking without stumbling or falling completely.

But things weren’t going great, you were also struggling financially since in the meantime you were working for minimum wage and every audition ended with the same negative evaluations.

You were tired and almost close to drop your dream but then you saw a light at the end of a tunnel: a recruiter came up to you one day and gave you his business card to arrange a proper meeting and to talk more clearly about a modeling stage.

You were thrilled. Maybe things were finally going your way!

And then…the disaster.

When you meet you met a second time with that recruiter you ended up spending a large amount of your life savings and only later, a couple of days after the encounter, you discovered by the news that a man, who pretended to be a model recruiter, had been arrested for fraud and scamming.

It was him. The same guy you had met in a cafe to fill in all the papers and to cover all the costs.

The police only arrested the man but there were no signs of the money he gained with his illegal activity.

The world was crumbling beneath your feet. You had reached your lowest and deepest point, now nothing was enough to save yourself from this situation you naively had pur yourself in.

A dream.

Only because you wanted to follow a stupid dream.

That’s why people locked them in the furthest part of their mind. They knew they were impossible to realize.

Still you needed to prove them wrong, how they just failed to pursue theirs and instead show them how you were going to make it.

In reality you only showed how you really were a failure. And they all had always been right from the start.

However, those words whispered so gently by him flabbergasted you, but in a good way.

They were like a lighter that ignited a new spark in your chest, in your soul. You felt…seen.

For the first time someone really saw you.

A boy who’s jacked and kind, making you believe in yourself again. Making your heart flutter for some praising words and making you feel all giddy inside.

You simply stared at him but with a new perspective; the hatred you felt for him immediately dissolved into thin air and was replaced by warm and a bubbling feeling in your chest.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered bashfully “for how I treated you…the first time” he understood what you meant and slightly smiled at you.

Chuckling softly he shook his head “it’s fine…really…i understand where that came from” “this whole situation…isn’t the best and if someone came up to you saying strange things…it’s totally understandable” he voiced your thoughts with a comforting and comprehensive tone.

You felt it again, the flutter and warmth in your chest.

“I’m y/n” he had never heard such a unique name, it fitted you so well. He tried repeating it, your name rolling off his lips in a low and tentative tone. You had never thought your name could have been so different and singular till now. He made it sound so pretty.

“I’m Kang Dae-ho” he then murmured leaning closer to you “Dae-ho…” you repeated back, your gaze locked into his. The ex-marine smiled and a small chuckle left his lips when your cheeks reddened for the embarrassment.

“If somebody tries to make fun of your appearance, I’ll deal with them, ok?” He reassured you “you don’t have to…I can take care of myself” you quietly stated, but he didn’t want to hear it.

“I’m serious…I will protect you. Whatever it takes.”

[cherry-smokes]

My Strange Lady

Life has thrown many curveballs at Steve, so he shouldn't be so surprised when he begins to grow fond of a very peculiar librarian. Paring: Single dad!Steve Harrington x oddball!reader Word Count: 3.1K Note: this is a reader insert, I just don't really use y/n in my work so instead the reader goes by the nickname Birdie here.

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Steve always wanted to be a father. He had a plan, fall head over heels in love and have a big wedding. While his big house always gave him the creeps as a kid because of how empty it was, Steve wanted to fill his own with kids and a dog if they wanted one. The halls wouldn’t feel haunted, they would be full of memories. Crawling with proof of life there. Crayon marks on the walls, stains on the carpets, baby gates and everything. While he didn’t get the wedding, or the big house, he did get the crayons and the stains. He got Robbie.

His sweet baby. Who came out with the same head of hair as his daddy and an even bigger heart. Steve made sure to let him feel as deeply as he wanted to. He knows how long it can take a person to come out of that cold shell when they’ve been conditioned to think that feelings are a sign of weakness.

Steve wouldn’t trade their little life for the world. Of course he still spends endless hours at night fretting over whether or not he’s good enough to fill both roles in Robbie’s life. Dad guilt. You can’t escape it, but Robbie is healthy and happy and so very loved.

When Robbie started sleeping in his own room Steve struggled with it more than he did. He would wait for him to fall asleep and lay on the floor next to his small bed with a pillow and a blanket. He did this until his shoulder started perpetually aching and then he realized maybe it was time to stop.

Steve has tried to devote every waking moment of his life for the past five years to Robbie. He’s on his own here, so as much as he wanted to be a stay at home dad Steve took up a job at the hospital working the front desk. It paid well enough and gave them both good health insurance. So he braved through putting Robbie in daycare and tried his best not to spend his day worrying about how he was doing. If kids were being nice to him, if he was being nice to others. If he was eating his lunch and if the adults at the daycare center were being sweet to him. It’s a little easier now that he’s in kindergarten. Steve’s more used to the dynamic of Robbie being away for a few hours a day. Steve's met his teacher, a nice older lady with glasses that make her eyes look buggy and a kind soul. Robbie adores her, he makes her drawings with messy handwriting misspelling his appreciation for her. He’s good like that. He loves sharing, sharing his feelings and his snacks. He gives out compliments like they’re nothing but the best part about it is that he really means them.

He’s such a kind kid. That’s probably why he almost cried when he told Steve he forgot to return some books he got at the library and now they’re overdue. It’s four thirty in the afternoon and the library closes at five. While Steve tried convincing him that it would be okay if they returned them tomorrow morning before school, Robbie wouldn’t budge.

The poor guy just felt so guilty.

So now Steve’s rushing into the library hand in hand with Robbie ten minutes before they close, praying to whoever will listen that the cranky librarian Debby isn’t cruel enough to turn them away. He prays even harder that she won’t scold Robbie for an overdue return. Instead of Debby he spots a much younger woman standing at the desk stacking books neatly into a big leather bag. It’s bulky and she pulls things out and puts them back in as if she’s playing Tetris with her books, glasses cases, hand sanitizers, and various other miscellaneous objects. She has a deadpanned look. She kind of reminds him of a younger, much prettier version of Debby.

Her hair is in a messy updo. She’s in all black, in an off the shoulder sweater with some frilly lacy shorts and tights. He catches a glimpse of her shoes from under the desk, bright red ballet flats. The amount of rings she wears make clinking sounds against each other as she sorts out her bag.

“Excuse me?”

Her head snaps up. He gets a good look at her finally, and she really is much prettier than Debby.

“Returning books?”

Steve snaps out of his daze and nods his head.

“Yeah, sorry we’re so late I know you guys are about to close but my boy just really wanted to return his books.”

The woman shrugs as she moves to sit down by the boxy dated computer on the desk. “We don’t close until five. It’s four fifty two, you’re allowed to come in until five. I’m getting paid regardless of if people come in or not.”

He expects her to smile, or give him any inclination that she’s trying to make them feel better about the situation. Instead she just has the same somewhat bored look on her face and he realizes she’s just saying it because it’s true.

He hopes his confusion isn’t visible on his face as he hands over the books along with Robbie’s library card. She grabs them and begins logging them into the system. She looks at the card and then to Robbie.

“Are you Robert?”

The boy nods.

“These books were due yesterday.”

The boy tucks into his father’s side in shame.

“I’m sorry.”

Steve’s about to tell her off. Scold her for making a kid feel bad about something that was an honest mistake but she speaks up before he can.

“Thank you. Deadlines are probably only implemented on kids your age to try to build up a routine of responsibility and time management. It’s probably a good sign you found it so important to turn them in before the end of the day today. Most kids wait at least a week before they bother coming in here.”

Robbie looks just as confused as Steve. The woman looks between the two of them. Something lights up in her eyes as she notices that their eyebrows scrunch the same way. She’s not made of stone. It’s sweet, and she decides to just explain what she meant.

“This was very responsible of you Robert.”

He eases up, and suddenly he isn’t hiding into his father’s side out of shame but instead out of shyness.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She finishes logging the books in and stacks the books on the return cart next to her. She spends a second organizing them from thickest to thinnest, which isn’t a huge difference since they’re children’s books but it’s curious to Steve that she takes the time to do it. When she turns around she holds out the library card to Robbie.

“Robert.”

He reaches out to grab it before speaking up. “My name is Robbie.”

“It says Robert on the card.”

“It’s a nickname.”

“Would you like me to change it in the system?”

Robbie shrugs, then you shrug and as Steve’s about to thank you to walk away but Robbie speaks up once more.

“You’re nicer than Miss Debby.”

You think about this for a moment.

“Deborah’s old. People get mean when they’re old.”

“Why aren’t you mean?”

Steve thinks you might turn mean at his son’s insinuation that you’re old. But for what seems to be the tenth time in the span of the last few minutes, you surprise him again.

“I’m not as old as Deborah. Maybe I’ll get mean when I’m her age. We’ll have to wait and see.”

Robby finally seems at peace with this answer and says his thank you’s once more. Your rings clink again as you wave to him. Steve says goodbye and thank you quickly as Robby starts rushing out with a tight grip on his hand.

“We have to go fast, she's closing!”

He looks behind him and he swears for a second, he almost sees your lips quirk up. Maybe it was the light or his lack of sleep catching up to him that made it seem that way. As they walk to the car Steve can’t help but realize he never got your name.

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Steve loved when weekends came around. He always asked for time off, wanting to spend them with Robbie. On days where he has to go into work he’ll usually have Robbie stay with whoever’s available. Usually Robin or Hopper. To Steve’s surprise Hopper fights for his Robbie time like he’s fighting for his life. He loves that kid almost as much as Steve does. Almost.

Luckily, this was a free weekend for Steve. He savored getting to sleep in a little. He always wakes up feeling like he could use a few more minutes of sleep. He’s restless, wakes up multiple times in a night and tosses and turns too much, for multiple reasons. One of them is that his bed just feels too big. He’s been thinking about getting a smaller one but they’re expensive, he’d rather save the money for when Robbie grows and needs a bigger bed himself. His extra few minutes of sleep are interrupted by a sudden weight next to him.

He feels him before he sees him. Small digits poking at his face and whispering. “Daaaad. Wake up. Rise and…and uh…”

“And shine?”

Steve’s voice is rough with sleep. He peeks an eye open to look at his son. His hair is wild, sticking up in different directions and his pajamas are askew, one pant leg higher than the other. Steve’s heart swells as he opens his arm to bring Robbie in for a morning cuddle.

“Mornin’ buddy”

Robbie tries to mimic his fathers gruff voice, but it comes out a little warbled when he replies. “Morning buddy.”

Steve can’t help but chuckle. He ruffles up his son’s hair before asking what he wants for breakfast. Robbie hums, and makes a big show out of thinking about it as if Steve doesn’t already know the answer.

Weekdays mean quick breakfasts. Eggs, toast and jam, pre-cut fruits, things that can get them both fed and out the door. Weekends mean pancakes. Steve makes them extra special for his kid. Uses fruits to make little faces in an attempt to convince him that eating healthy can be fun. It works like a charm, Steve feels pretty smart for that.

Robbie eats like his dad. He just about inhales his food and Steve, like a hypocrite, has to ask him to slow down through a mouthful of pancakes himself. Robbie, being the angel he is, starts chewing slowly. Probably too slow, but Steve has learned to pick his battles. Robbie waits until he’s done chewing to speak up.

“Can we go to the book house today?”

Steve loves the terms his son uses for things. He gets the point across so Steve’s never really felt the need to correct him. Not yet at least, he just wants him to be a kid a little longer. Before he starts wanting to spend more time with his friends than his old man. So naturally Steve agrees to take him to the book house.

They walk in and browse the shelves for a bit, Robbie picks up some children’s books and then Steve walks him over to the ‘grown up’ shelves so he can find something somewhat interesting to read. He’s never been a big fan of reading for fun, but lately he finds it’s better to read in bed than stare at the ceiling thinking about every past, present, or future thing in his life.

He looked away for a second. Just one second. He was reading the inside cover of Frankenstein, when he turned to make a joke to Robbie about how it would be too scary for himself, he was gone. Everyone talks about how your stomach drops when you lose sight of your kid. Steve’s didn’t just drop, he felt like he was about to throw up all of those smiley pancakes he ate this morning.

He rushes out of the isle they were in and turns the corner. Just before he was about to start screaming like a madman he spots two familiar heads of hair over by the check-out desk. Steve can’t even find it within himself to be mad at him for roaming off, he’s just happy he didn’t get lost. Or worse.

He starts walking towards the pair, seemingly in a very intense conversation with each other. He wants to interrupt and beg Robbie to never scare him like that. Maybe give him a quick lesson about the importance of not running off, but he’s derailed when he gets close enough to hear the conversation.

“-it’s my auntie Robin’s name, but-but with different letters at the end because I’m a boy and she’s a girl.”

“Robin can be a gender neutral name. It’s a type of bird, not all Robin’s are girls.”

“What kind of bird is that?”

“It’s a Robin. They have a red-well kind of red, kind of orange. Like a brick colored chest. They sound like this-“ she then proceeds to whistle in a way that really did sound like a Robin. “You’ve probably seen them around, or heard them. They’re pretty common.”

Robbie’s jaw drops. “You can speak bird?!”

Steve finally walks up, drawing your attention away from his carbon copy of a son and to the original model instead. He tries to find something casual to say. Or clever. Anything really, but your hair is styled differently than it had been the other day and you’re wearing a pretty blue cardigan. He gets distracted and you beat him to the punch.

“Hi Steve.”

He waves and before he realizes he never told you his name.

“Uh- hi. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself properly the other day but at least Robbie did it for me.”

“He didn’t. I looked you up in the system. There’s only two Harrington’s on there so I assumed the second one was you.”

Steve feels something warm crawl up his neck. Something he probably hasn’t felt in the last five years. “You looked me up?”

“I got curious.”

You’re so…honest. Like you could really care less about niceties and ‘polite’ manners like introducing yourself to people. Not in a rude way, just in a sort of…odd way. To him at least. Maybe some people wouldn’t find it all that strange. People who didn’t have parents like his, maybe that’s why Robbie didn’t seem to mind.

“Dad-dad the lady speaks bird!”

“Bud you should call her by her name-“ “I don’t speak with birds, I just mimic them.”

You speak over each other, except you finish your sentence and Steve cuts himself off. He reaches a hand out to shake yours. “Sorry, we didn’t catch your name?”

Your hand reaches out to him, and he feels a spark shoot up his arm. An actual spark, static probably. You both flinch away and you give the softest laugh while gesturing to your sleeve. “Sorry. Wool.”

He laughs, a breathless thing and he and Robbie stand patiently waiting for an answer to his, kind of, question.

You stare back at them for a moment before coming to your senses. “Oh right!” You give them your name and it dances around Steve’s head for a moment. His son saves him any embarrassment of looking like a total doofus.

“Is it a nickname like Robbie?”

You shake your head no. “Nope. Just my full government name. People usually acquire nicknames from loved ones or in honor of something meaningful they did.”

“Meanful?”

“It means something special buddy.”

His son makes an ‘ooooooh’ sound before dramatically gasping and throwing his arms on your desk. Steve watches you freeze suddenly, like you were finally caught off guard. For some reason you can’t figure out what to do other than place your arms on the table as well, parallel to his own. “You just did something me-meanf-ugh! Special! We can call you uh…uhhh-“

Steve decides to take the reins on this one.

“Birdie?”

“YES!”

Robbie dramatically throws himself at Steve and starts shaking him. He realizes now maybe chocolate syrup wasn’t a smart choice on the pancakes. “You’re so smarty pants!”

Steve pats his son on the head endearingly as he thanks him for his compliment.

“Do you know a lot about birds?”

You look at him when you realize he’s talking to you and nod.

“They’re really fascinating creatures. For being so small they’re actually quite smart. Some Bowerbird’s actually build nests that are reminiscent of auditoriums to make their calls reverberate off the walls. They also decorate their nests in very meticulous ways to attract partners. It really begs the question of whether birds are able to have aesthetic opinions.”

"Huh, strange."

"Yeah. I have a bird watching club here but it's usually just me. Sometimes Deborah joins, but I think it's just to avoid telling people where to find the self-help section. They usually end up telling her their life story. I think people assume librarians are close enough to therapists but Deborah is the last person I would go to."

Steve can't help but let out a real laugh. It comes from deep in his chest and escapes him before he can stop it. You smile, or at least you begin to before you stop it promptly.

"Can we be in your club?"

Robbie's never shown any interest in birds. Steve is thankful he suddenly is, because a full smile actually breaks through from you. Steve isn't sure if it's the air conditioning in the library, like the static from your cardigan, or if it's just you. Regardless, your smile is followed by shivers up Steve's spine.

"Sure, it's a public library. So it's technically also a public club, anyone can join. It might be boring but the garden is nice." You lean down towards your bag and pull out a crumpled flyer. It's not colorful. Plain white paper with plain black lettering that states "Bird Watch Club, Sunday mornings" along with the library's address and what looks like a hand drawn sketch of a bird. He couldn't say which one but it was pretty. He thinks the flyer looks a little off-putting. Kind of like it's a trap to lure someone in. When he sees a much softer, kind of happy look on your face, the flyer doesn't seem so scary. You're like the Mona Lisa, not frowning but not quite smiling.

"We'll see you tomorrow morning then."

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a/n: this ended up wayyyyyy longer than I planned. I'll probably have more parts to come. I've gotten attached to Robbie.

[mistress-riddle]

cw. none, just fluffy content with mother!reader and father!tom. masterlist.

the sound of soft patter coming from tiny feet hitting the floor causes a small smile to lift at the corners of your lips and you wait patiently for your little darling to approach you from your spot on the couch, coffee clasped between both hands as you appreciated the warmth it offered you in the chilly morning.

"mama!" the giggle coming from your two year old causes your grin to widen once she's at the foot of the couch looking up at you with the cutest smile of her own.

"good morning, sugar" you place the mug down on the table in front of you in favour of opening your arms for valeria to jump into. she does so, nuzzling her face into your chest "goo' mornin, mama'" the last letters of her greeting forgone in her soft whisper.

"did you sleep well?" you ask her, pulling her up and sitting her properly on your lap to fix her wavy hair that was falling into her face, somewhat similar to her father in the mornings.

"mhmm" her giggles continue once you place a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"wonderful!" you murmur with affection "why don't we go brush your teeth and then say 'good morning' to dada, okay?"

she beams in response and almost yells "okay" in your face, her excitement to see her father who was currently cooped up in his office, dealing with work since 5 am, palpable. you playfully pinch your nose and swat the air in front of you which elicits more laughter from your daughter.

"come now, we should deal with that dangerous morning breath immediately." you pick her up and head to the bathroom, placing her on the step stool so she can somewhat see her face in the mirror.

"brush time!" you sing song and she excitedly grabs her pink toothbrush designed for children and waits for you to squirt a tiny bit of toothpaste for her.

you watch as she follows the motions you instruct her to do every morning and night with a proud smile on your face and you make sure to remind her to not swallow any of the fruity-minty foam. once she says she's done, you quickly inspect her mouth and take care to gently brush the teeth at the back before encouraging her to spit out the toothpaste. shortly after, you brush her hair back and style two pigtails, adding her favourite accessories which she picked out with enthusiasm "this one, mama!". you then washed her face and dried it off, making sure to get rid of any "eye boogies" which clung to her long lashes.

"t'ank you!" she says once you're done and places a kiss on your cheek which causes your eyes to tear up. your daughter is an angel.

she hops off the stool by using your hand to support her and in a rush hurries to her father's office giggling, making sure to knock 3 times. she hears the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and footsteps approach the door, with a click, it opened and she cranes her neck to look at her father.

"oh, good morning, princess." he greets once he notices that you're too far away to have knocked, and opting to look down to follow your gaze, and sees his adorable daughter.

"good morning, papa!" she mimics his serious expression and tone that he usually dons. it only took a couple of seconds for her exterior to change into a similar wide, teeth-baring smile she gifted you earlier and raised her arms out "uppies."

tom's face breaks into a small smile and he bends low to pick his daughter up to place a kiss on her cheek before throwing her gently into the air and catching her, he repeated it a few more times as he walked over to his desk. he took a seat and sat valeria on his lap as well and let her play with his fingers.

"aww," you voice in disappointment once you enter his office and pout exactly as your daughter was keen to do "mummy wanted uppies too..."

tom rolls his eyes at you, but you notice a begrudging smirk on his face "don't you have work today?"

you groan in response "don't remind me, i want to stay with my baby."

"don't exclude valeria like that, you're a terrible mother."

you deadpan at him meanwhile valeria turns to look at you with a pout and glassy eyes, probably trained by her father to weaponise it by command "very funny, riddle." you join them at the desk and kneel to give your sweet daughter a hug.

"mummy's going to work sweetheart, i love you, be good to daddy and don't miss me too much okay?" at the sight of her lip wobbling, you attacked her with kisses and tickled her sides to get her to giggle which effectively distracted her.

with a huff you got up and crouched to be at level with tom's face "and to my other baby apparently, make sure she's fed and bathed by five pm, okay?"

"yes ma'am" he lazily drawls out, valeria had shifted in his lap so that she's standing (his arm held her up so that she wasn't tiring herself) and hugging his neck, head resting on his shoulder. you took the chance to quickly kiss him before standing up straight.

"bye, my loves!"

"say bye to mummy, valeria" tom picks valeria's arm up to wave at you from the door as you send them a kiss and with her hand, the two catch your kiss.

[lvrgurlblobbu]

first encounter

college!zayne x fem!reader

⤿ CW: pure fluff!

⤿ word count: 1.4k

⤿ first part of code love series :)

The campus café was buzzing with students, the scent of coffee and pastries filling the air. You, still adjusting to the rhythm of college life, scanned the dessert counter and locked eyes on the last slice of tiramisu. Just as you reached for it, another hand brushed against yours.

Startled, you turned to see a tall, confident-looking guy eyeing the same dessert. He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his sharp gaze.

“Well, this is awkward,” he mused, withdrawing his hand slightly but not stepping back.

“I saw it first,” you said, standing your ground. You looked at him and his hazel eyes met yours which made you slightly shiver, eye contact was never your thing as you find it hard to focus.

“So did I,” he countered smoothly, still not letting go of the dessert. You were about to counter when someone called him, causing for his attention to divert towards the person who called him.

So with his attention being focused on his colleague, you took this opportunity to grab the dessert, “Sorry, in a hurry!” you mumbled as you hurriedly went to the counter to pay for the dessert.

As you’re paying for the dessert, you noticed that he’s now seated beside the window, typing something in his laptop while his colleague is sitting infront of him as they continued to discuss something which seems to be serious.

“You’re a freshman aren’t you?” Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted with the voice of the cashier, who gave you a knowing smile as they rang up your dessert.

You blinked, momentarily distracted from watching the mysterious sophomore. “Uh… yeah. Is it that obvious?”

The cashier chuckled. “A little. First-years always have that wide-eyed look when they step into the café for the first time.” They handed your change. “That guy you were talking to—Zayne, right? He’s pretty well-known around here.”

You glanced back toward the window, where Zayne was still typing, his expression now more serious as his colleague spoke. “Well-known how?”

The cashier smirked. “Let’s just say he’s got a bit of a reputation. Smart, sharp-tongued, and impossible to read. Some people avoid him, some are drawn to him. Either way, you don’t forget him easily.”

You hummed in response, gripping the plate a little tighter. Your first interaction with him had already left an impression, and now you were even more curious. You couldn’t explain it but something is just pulling you closer to him.

“Good luck, freshman,” the cashier added playfully as you turned away.

With your dessert in hand, you hesitated for a moment before deciding on a seat—not too far, but not too close— but then, you saw that Zayne’s colleague already left which leaves him alone in his table, still typing in his laptop.

You bit your lip, contemplating whether you would seat because all tables were now occupied and it seems like no one wants to sit with Zayne. So, with a heavy breath, you stride towards his table.

When you placed your plate of tiramisu on his table, he suddenly stopped typing and he looked up at you.

“Yes? Is there anything you need?” He asked, you gulped and prayed not to stutter.

“Well, the place is a bit crowded so is it okay if I could sit with you? If not, I can just find another place to sit.” You replied, it seems like he’s contemplating for his answer. His eyes wandered throughout the whole cafe, scanning for any available seats before finally settling back on you. He hesitates for a moment, then exhales softly.

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead,” he says, gesturing toward the empty seat across from him.

You nod in appreciation and set your dessert down before pulling out the chair. As you sit, you take a moment to glance at him. He seems deep in thought, his fingers idly tapping against the rim of his coffee cup.

“Thanks,” you say, offering a small smile. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. This place does get packed around this time.”

A brief silence lingers between the two of you, not necessarily awkward, but noticeable. You wonder if you should strike up a conversation or simply enjoy the shared space in quiet.

You slid the spare fork which you grabbed earlier to his side, “I was thinking that their serving of tiramisu is big enough for two people.” you said as you smiled at him, he suddenly stares at the fork, then at you, his brows raising slightly in surprise. His fingers hover over the utensil as if debating whether to accept the silent invitation.

“Please have some, I felt bad taking the last slice when you were eyeing it too,” you said with a sheepish smile.

Zayne paused, his gaze flicking from the fork to you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re an interesting one.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He took a small bite of the tiramisu, his expression thoughtful. “Depends on how you interpret it.”

You shrugged, rolling your eyes lightly, then took a bite yourself. The rich flavor of the dessert settled between you, and the earlier tension seemed to ease.

“So, you’re kind of a big deal around here,” you remarked, remembering the cashier’s words. Zayne’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Let me guess, the cashier filled you in?”

You nodded. “Yeah, they said you’re sharp, smart, and a bit… hard to read. Sounds pretty accurate.”

He leaned back, a small chuckle escaping him. “They always make it sound more dramatic than it is.”

You smiled, teasing, “Maybe. But I’m getting the vibe you don’t usually share your dessert.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “Maybe not. But I’ll make an exception this time.”

His mini remark caused for you to smile, as you both shared your dessert. You both fell into a comfortable silence wherein only the chattering of students, clicking of keyboards and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended into the background.

As you were wandering your eyes throughout the cafe, your gaze immediately landed upon Zayne’s eyes who’s intensely focused on his laptop monitor, and from time to time he uses his fingers to push his glasses upward.

As you stared at him, that’s when you noticed his features. His jawline was sharp, giving him a slightly rugged yet refined look, and his dark hair fell messily over his forehead, as if he didn’t care to keep it in place. His glasses, though simple, added an air of intelligence to his appearance. His eyes, a deep shade of hazel, were fixed on the screen with such intensity that it almost felt like he was in a world of his own.

You couldn’t help but notice the subtle confidence in his demeanor, the way he exuded a calm yet focused energy. It was the kind of presence that made it hard to look away. As he pushed his glasses up again with a quick flick of his finger, the small action felt almost deliberate, like a little routine he did without thinking.

For a moment, you forgot to look away, your thoughts drifting as you observed him. There was something captivating about how he carried himself—like he didn’t need anyone’s attention, but somehow, everyone around him seemed to want it.

But then, it was suddenly interrupted when your phone alarmed and as you saw the time, you’re already running late for your next class.

“Shit!” you muttered which caught Zayne’s attention as you hurriedly fixed your things.

“What’s the matter?” He said as he noticed how panicked you looked, he immediately closed his laptop as he focused on you.

“I’m running late.” you said as you stood up, about to leave “Thank you for letting me sit with you, it was really nice chatting with you. Goodby-“ you were about to leave when he immediately grabbed your wrist.

“Wait, how am I going to treat you for dessert next time?” he asked which immediately caught you off guard.

“When we see each other on campus,” you responded, and when he finally let go of your grip, you hurriedly rushed toward the exit. You hadn’t gotten far from the café when you heard him call out to you.

“How am I supposed to find you when I don’t even know your name?”

You turned your head at the sound of his voice, his tone playful but with an edge of curiosity.

“(Name)! That’s my name! I’ll see you around, Zayne!” you shouted back. As you turned away, you couldn’t help but bite your lip, trying to suppress the smile that was creeping up on you, especially when you noticed the smile that formed on his face upon hearing your name.

[alicentlander]

thankful

summary: Homelander saves you on Flight 37 and expects you to give him a proper “thank you”.

(18+, noncon (blowjob), kidnapping, forced relationship, homelander’s god complex, meanlander, fem reader)

author’s notes: he’s a bit meaner than i usually write him but god plane scene homelander drives me insane!! i did struggle writing this a bit though since blowjobs aren’t really my thing haha

wc: 1.5k

You were still shaking when Homelander landed on the balcony that led to his penthouse and took you inside. You barely even processed your surroundings, staring off blankly.

He was a fucking monster.

When he had first shown up on the plane, you and all the other passengers had assumed you were saved. People clapping and cheering him on, his laughter ringing throughout the plane as he told you all that “you guys are the real heroes”. You were safe. You were going to be fine.

You’re not sure what exactly happened next. He went into the cockpit, presumably to make sure the captain was alright, and then it felt like the plane was dropping from the air. When he came out again, people immediately started asking him what was happening as he made his way towards the back of the plane. Was he leaving them? Despite him saying he wasn’t, that he was just going to go check something, but even a toddler could see through that lie.

You’re not sure what it was about you that made him pause. You weren’t crying or shouting at him, instead just sitting quietly in your seat as you internally panicked while processing everything and tried to keep yourself as calm as you could. But in the blink of an eye you felt your seatbelt being torn off and a rough hand that you had no chance of ever escaping from grip your arm.

“Come on,” Homelander grunted, dragging you along behind him. You stared dumbfoundedly at him, unable to move your feet on your own.

You felt people trying to grab at Homelander, begging him to save them too that he ignored until he finally snapped and threatened to laser them all if they didn’t stay back. When he was satisfied they stopped, he roughly yanked you to follow him again, easily hitting down the exit with his super strength, grabbing you bridal style before flying out.

The cry of a mother begging him to save her daughter too would likely haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Hey,” Homelander snapped his red leather-clad fingers in front of your face several times. You blinked, looking up at him. He smiled sickly-sweet. “There she is.”

He stroked your face with the back of his hand with a tenderness that felt unnatural coming from him. You looked into his eyes, trying to find any hint of guilt or remorse in them.

There wasn’t any.

“I just saved you, you know,” he murmured with a deceptive gentleness, thumb brushing your bottom lip, “you know what good girls are supposed to say to heroes who saved them, right?”

“…t-thank you?” you answer, finding your voice for what felt like the first time in days, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple hours since you last spoke.

He raised an eyebrow, “are you asking me or telling me?”

You swallowed hard, his eyes briefly flicking to your throat then back to your face.

“T-thank you,” you repeat.

“Hmm… that’s a good start, I guess,” he pulled back, “you could sound more appreciative, you know. I did just save your life.”

“…you left all those people to die,” you whisper.

Homelander pulled away from you with a huff, looking annoyed. He crossed his arms.

“What was I supposed to do? Hmm? Lift the plane? There was nothing to stand, it was in the fucking air if you recall. Ram it? With that speed I’d just punch straight through the hull. Flying each passenger one by one down to the ground?” he clicked his tongue and shook his head like it was a ridiculous idea. Like he didn’t possess the strength and stamina to do that easily.

The day must’ve been weighing heavily on your mind, clouding your judgement on if talking was really a good idea when you said, “a real hero wouldn’t have left a hundred people including a child alone and terrified like that.”

His annoyance quickly faded into anger and the look in his eyes made you feel like the worst danger you would face today wasn’t a plane crash.

He yanked you off his bed - which you were only now beginning to process. He took you to his home - into his fucking bed. What the fuck?

“You know what, sweetheart? I really don't think you’re showing me enough gratitude,” he growled, his grip tightening to the point you knew there would be bruises. “I could’ve left you there to die with the rest of them. But I didn’t. I think it’s time I get the proper appreciation and “thank you” I deserve from you, don’t you think?”

Before you had any chance to argue, he shoved you onto your knees. One of his hands held you down by your shoulder while the other went to his belt. Your eyes widened.

“W-wait…!” you tried to stand, but he just kept you down without the slightest bit of a struggle. “You… You’re right, okay? I-I wasn’t being very appreciative. I’m so sorry. But I’m very… very grateful that you saved me, Homelander.”

He hummed while his eyes seemed to light up when you said his name, “if you’re really grateful, then this shouldn’t be a problem, hmm?”

As soon as his belt was unbuckled and pants down, he moved his hand to tangle into your hair. He all but shoves your face against his hardening dick as you choke back a terrified sob.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay,” he murmured, his tone so different from how harsh it had been a moment ago, “come on now, don’t fight. We both know it would be pointless.”

Knowing he could easily crush your skull if you didn’t comply with what he wanted, you reluctantly take his length in your month. Almost immediately he made a noise that sounded like a whimper.

“There you go… that's a good girl…” he praised, thrusting inside your mouth with a surprising amount of restraint for someone of his strength. “Jesus fucking Christ your heart rate is going a mile a fucking minute. Would you calm down? I’m not going to kill you. What a waste that would be.”

Anything you might have said in response was forced back down by him as he slowly moved your head forwards to take more of him. You grip onto his hips to steady yourself, hesitantly sucking his cock which got another groan from him. You choke slightly as he rolls his hips forward, willing this all to be over as quickly as possible.

Luckily (or as lucky as you can be in a situation like this) it didn’t seem like it took much for Homelander to get off. Using just a bit of tongue had him making whimpers and moans you wouldn’t have expected from a man like him.

When you taste him starting to cum, you try pulling back, but he grips your hair tighter, not allowing you to move an inch.

“Nuh-uh,” he tsked, “swallow. All of it.”

What choice did you have but to obey?

When he finished unleashing his seed into your abused mouth and released your hair, you quickly scrambled back, taking in deep breaths greedily.

Homelander rolled his eyes before kneeling down in front of you. He tenderly - almost lovingly - wiped your chin and mouth with his thumb, then held it up in front of your lips expectantly. Bits of his seed that had managed to escape your mouth stained his gloves. With teary eyes, you shakily licked the remnants off him. He hummed in satisfaction.

He whispered absent praises to you when you finished, then moved his hand to stroke your hair, staring at you with something akin to fascination.

It’s quiet for a long few minutes before you spoke again.

“Can I… can I go home now? P-please?”

You just wanted this nightmare of a day to be over.

Homelander stopped his movements.

“About that…” he moved his hand to your chin, tilting it upwards to force you to keep eye contact, “you see, you can’t leave. Liability stuff, you know?”

You stared at him in disbelief. He can’t be serious. What was he going to do? He already said he wouldn’t kill you (though you really wouldn’t put lying past him). Was he just going to keep you here like some sort of pet?

“I-I won’t tell anyone what happened. I promise.”

“Can’t risk it,” he said dismissively before standing and pulling you up with him. “Besides at this point the media’s probably all over the crash. Your friends and family already think you’re dead.”

You stare at him in disbelief.

“Don’t worry, this will be so much better for you anyways!” he said with a smile, “I’ll take care of you. Anything you want is yours. Any type of food, clothes… anything besides leaving.” He laughed at the last part like he thought it was funny before his face quickly dropped and he sighed at your lack of a reaction. “Not very enthusiastic, are we?” He sounded disappointed. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he almost sounded hurt. “That’s alright. We’ll work on that. You’ll learn to be grateful for a God taking care of you. You’ll learn to love it here. To love me.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, sealing your fate.

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 27.

Summary: Felix takes charge of his own story, his own romance, and with intent to confront Ollie about his lies. He doesn't want you to fee like you have to do this alone. But neither does he.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. Reader's biological parents are named Pearl & Andreas.

Warnings: discussions of the reader's parents continuing to be shitty to them via legal documents and wanting nothing to do with them.

A/N: 6032 words. google 'how do words work'. also HELLO! NEW YEAR!! since we last spoke like this, i proposed to my partner (i have a fiance now!!) i took more photos in my silly, little Saltburn costumes, both as Felix and Venetia (when they say 'get u a man who can do both' they mean me), i became a licenced Dogger (if u need someone for ground rigging at an event message me) and I continued to be UNWELL about saltburn. i missed you. how was your new years? Is this chapter at all coherent. OH ALSO WE GET A FELIX CHAPTER NOW! I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOUR!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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It's your voice that echoes in Felix's mind as he tries to fall asleep that night. So often it is, but usually the words are far sweeter than the broken whisper that plays on repeat when he closes his eyes.

"I want to know why he did what he did before I tell you."

Felix is desperately trying to make himself believe that this isn't like last time, that this isn't like Eddie, but right now, from his shockingly limited perspective, it's hard not to focus in on the similarities. So he has to believe in you; if not you, then who, or what? Oliver? That's a hard no right now, but something about Oliver, despite everything has you believing, and Felix has never not trusted your judgement before. He's not going to start doubting you now.

And fucking hell, he can't even begin to process the revelation that it had been you who had caught Venetia and Eddie last Summer, not Farleigh. He might owe Farleigh an apology after all of this, or some kind of thank you basket... for what, he's not exactly sure of in this moment, but it definitely feels apt. Maybe for still putting up with him all this time, all things considered. Farleigh had never liked Oliver -

Again, Felix has to remind himself to trust in you in this moment, to breathe deep and believe it's not like last time. However the smug devil on his shoulder - that definitely looks like Farleigh wearing those two party hats and a shirt that simply says 'Easy', telling him 'I told you so' - is very loud.

But by his side, your breathing has evened out, and the air that flutters in through the half-open window is surprisingly cool for the Summer, and though the stars you'd painted and stretched across the ceiling have lost their glow after hours in the dark, if he squints, he can still make out his favourite constellations.

Felix has never been as sentimental as you, at least that's what he tells himself. That's what he lets everyone believe. If you knew better, you'd be the only one, not that you'd ever tell anyone. That's one of the many things Felix likes about you; you're sentimental enough for the both of you. The things you hold onto are so often special to the two of you; as much as Felix is glad you hold onto them, as much as he loves that they so often end up in his - your shared - room, the only person who he lets see that affectionate appreciation is you. You're the only one that matters.

He's entirely too aware of how he's perceived by others. He'd argue - again, to you alone and never anyone else - that he had to be. Felix had always been more self aware than most people liked to give him credit for, despite his best effort. Efforts to not be self aware that is, because when he thinks too hard about it, his life becomes almost claustrophobic. The privilege, the constant eyes on him, the expectations.

"You're Sir James' and Elspeth's son." Sometimes he thinks about the first conversation the two of you had shared, how you'd identified him before he'd even said his name; "you're Felix Catton." Ten years old, and the first person in all the years that Felix had already been paraded out like a show pony, to make him feel like a person.

Right now, his role had barely changed, it was that of fanciful youth; be pretty whilst headed in the direction of success. One day there'd be responsibilities, but both his parents were in good health and sound of mind, so he was to do what he pleased so long as he kept up appearances, wore a suit when they asked him to, and barked on command in front of their impressive, vapid friends.

For all that the estate dripped with it's own kind of sentimentality, it's impressive history oozing from the walls themselves, his parents, and the company they kept, so often favoured novelty. Felix does too, he knows this, he's a Catton after all... most of the time.

Sometimes, around you, and once or twice this Summer with Ollie if he's being honest, he felt like he didn't belong amidst these people, his family, at Saltburn... Or, well, no; he felt like he didn't want to belong at Saltburn.

Right now, staring up at those stars you'd painted for him all those years ago, he feels it so strongly he aches. He wants to belong to that little apartment in London you'd asked him to run away to, wanted to belong to something that wasn't a sister who'd roll her eyes at his heartbreak, or parents who'd sweep it under the rug. His role in this home, this family, had never been one that allowed for him to be broken hearted. For Venetia, it had always seemed almost expected, but Felix was expected to be the one breaking hearts if he was ever in that situation.

Love was meant to be freeing. For most of his life, it had been. After all it's why he'd always been so grateful to have found you so early in life. He knows it's a big part of the reason his family had taken to you so quickly, why his parents had allowed you to stay, to get so close.

Felix closes his eyes and he still sees the stars above.

Still, sleep eludes him. If you can tell, or if you could feel the absent-minded way he was still stroking your back when you'd woken up and realised he hadn't thought to stop, you don't say anything. The air is different, Felix is exhausted already, and you are tender with him. You always are, but this morning is different. Almost difficult for you.

It's soothing to focus on you. He knows you've always struggled when confronted with a problem you felt like you weren't allowed to solve, however he's grateful that you're letting him step up. He's done being passive, done being the one in this relationship that things just happen to at the behest of the people around him. That's his usual role when there's even a hint of genuine emotional investment. It's suffocating; like his role at Saltburn, his role as Future Lord Catton, he doesn't want to belong in that neatly defined identity.

Felix wants, no, he needs to believe he can do for himself what you've always happily done for him. So he's grateful that you're letting him try... even if he sees how uncomfortable you are, how you're holding yourself back from offering to make all his troubles go away, if only he'd ask. Usually, he didn't even have to do that. Now, you can't even look at him, can't stand to see him exhausted and unhappy and being unable to help. You'll spiral, or break the agreement the two of you had come to the night before, so you don't look at Felix. But he looks at you.

Even with all the emotional turmoil the two of you found yourselves in with Oliver, there's no doubt about you in Felix's mind. Honestly, he's even ashamed that there ever was back at Oxford, even if it was only akin to a heartbeat of time in your relationship.

Except that wasn't the whole truth. That golden afternoon he still recalls so clearly, you surrounded by newspapers, searching for Ollie's dad's obituary to try and memorialise the man who, by all accounts, didn't deserve it. Felix has always kind of known that you were far better than he deserved. It was never you he doubted, it was himself.

He hated that he'd made you cry that afternoon, hated that you'd so clearly seen and spelled out how scared he was of the idea of you finding someone better than him, someone like Ollie who could love you, could treat you right, without needing Felix as an audience. Hated that you were right. Hated everything that said about him. Most of all, he hated how he couldn't even bring himself to ask the one goddamn question you wanted him to.

Could you love someone without me?

The thought of any answer was terrifying to him at the time.

If you'd answered yes, he'd have to face the idea of a life without you, no matter how small the possibility. But if your answer was no, he knows all he'd feel is guilt. Even if he'd pretended not to notice, he'd loved Eddie without you. Felix had still loved you, he's certain he'll never stop, but as much as you'd liked Eddie before he'd come to Saltburn, you never loved him.

And even if he ignored every single red flag at the time, Felix knew in his heart that Eddie had never really even cared about you as a person. Then again, had he even cared about Felix? Considering what happened last Summer, how things had ended, how Felix has never heard from him since, he - he doesn't want to think about it. It's in the past, he tells himself.

But Felix loves this thing between you, Oliver, and himself more than he'd ever loved what he had with Eddie. Felix isn't afraid of the question anymore, because he knows you well enough to know your answer would be just the same as his. It's the essentially the same answer he'd given that night he'd asked if you could live without him.

Even if I could, I wouldn't want to.

Which is why he's doing this. Because despite all his attempts at denial, he loved Ollie, and you love Ollie, and aside from this one issue - and the subsequent lying - it seemed that Ollie loved you both too. So he has to do this; you've been caught in the crossfire of Ollie's lies for Felix's sake, now it's his turn to step up and sort things out. Make things right.

That's why he watches you, he's doing this so he can see you smile again. Without hesitation, or reservation just behind your eyes.

And right now you aren't even able to smile.

Nothing feels real at breakfast. Felix thinks he can taste static. No Farleigh. Ollie, oblivious. Venetia reading at the table and avoiding looking at anyone. His parents, as always, in their own, little bubble.

"Venetia, please no headphones at the table," Elspeth sighs. Venetia sighs louder, but obliges without looking up. She's not even pretending to eat breakfast with them this morning, book open on her empty plate as she sips tea. The only person she engages with is James, who asks about her book. Venetia doesn't even look up, and her voice is forcibly light, like it alone can mask how she looks like she'd rather be anywhere else.

"I forgot we had it," she admits softly, though her next words have Felix instinctively scowling, "I think Pearl left it here for Farleigh a few years ago after one of those Arts dinners, but he's never touched it. It's a biography of that performance artist in New York, the controversial one, Marina Abramović. I found it going through his room the other day."

"The one that Aunt Fred cheated on her husband with?" Felix can't help but ask as the name lights up something in the back of his mind.

"Supposedly," Venetia's tone is dismissive, and she turns to the next page, "Farleigh thinks it's a load of bull his dad was spouting when he found out we'd cut her off, but I have seen Fredricka Start mentioned as a collaborator here. Maybe Aunt Fred did have a lesbian affair with a controversial, Serbian, performance artist. Seems like something she'd do."

Before Felix can even process any of this, James steers the conversation away from his estranged sister's potential affair with all the subtlety of a bulldozer, asking if the book itself was any good. Shrugging, Venetia takes another sip of tea, sounding so utterly nonchalant.

"I'm still making my mind up about it, I'll tell you when I'm done."

Remembering the utter state you'd been in last night coming back from spending time with Venetia, Felix can't help but hope his sister is hurting over whatever words the two of you had shared.

It seems Duncan senses the strangeness too, as he's uncharacteristically mobile, at least for him, making the rounds about the table when they all know the maids are more than capable of collecting the dishes themselves. Felix watches him circle like a vulture.

For just a moment, their eyes meet. Usually looking into Duncan's eyes is like gazing at a stone wall of unshakeable professionalism, today however there was... something there. Something utterly unreadable. Still, it was an anomaly. Duncan definitely feels the strangeness in the room.

"Is there anything I can get you, Felix?" He sounds as curt as ever though. Felix gives a practiced smile, declining. Finally, he looks away. Duncan gives a moment of pause before adding, "anything for the Captain?" When Felix looks back to him, he sees the way Duncan's eyes flick to you, by Felix's side, how he must sees what Felix does in his peripheries - the barest shake of your head that he's sure all others at the table miss, but Felix and Duncan never would - but he still waits for Felix's answer. Because you too are quiet, in trapped in your own mind in a way none of you can articulate, but all seem to understand.

"No, they're fine," Felix gives a more genuine smile, "thank you, Duncan." Duncan nods, stepping back from where he'd been hovering by Elspeth's chair, striding over to take Venetia's empty tea cup and pass it on to a bemused, waiting housemaid.

"Are you alright, Pet, you seem rather out of sorts this morning," Felix and Duncan's interaction had caught his otherwise oblivious mother's attention, as she finally turned to you. As if woken from a trance, you look up to Elspeth, almost surprised by the question.

"Yeah, I -" but you take a moment to breathe. Beneath the table, Felix gently pets your thigh in silent support. After taking a moment to compose yourself, you start again, "I think I may have to quarantine myself in the study for the morning," you sighed, though your smile doesn't reach your eyes. When Elspeth asks if you're feeling alright, you give a humourless laugh, gaze going back to your food. You take another bite before explaining, "I'm fine, however this contract from Andreas and Pearl gets more convoluted and ridiculous the further I read; I think a quarantine is the only way to save you all from their toxic bullshit."

"Have you had a lawyer look it over?" James asks with genuine interest, putting down his paper, but your expression just scrunched up with vague confusion.

"I think that breaks the contract?"

"That you haven't signed?" Ollie points out. Clearly your mind has actually switched to thinking about the contract, rather than the clusterfuck of a situation with Ollie himself, because you do take his words onboard.

"Which I haven't signed," you agreed, face scrunching up further, as if you're trying to recall details outlined in the document itself, "I think if I'm able to find an untraceable way to contact them, um, somehow indirectly, they might send me a lawyer of my own?" You don't exactly sound sure, however you follow it up with a humourless smile, "but if I contact them directly, I believe they think it will curse my entire bloodline, even retroactively, and therefore they will trebuchet me directly into the sun."

Despite everything Felix laughs at that, as does Venetia. Farleigh would have too, if he were here.

"Darling, they're not going to trebuchet you into the sun -" Elspeth tries to soothe you, surprisingly genuine care in her tone.

"Mum, I think you underestimate how much Andreas loves that stupid trebuchet he built during college," you respond flippantly, before gesturing to James at the end of the table, "you helped, didn't you? You know he loves it."

"I-" James actually seems a little surprised, taking a moment to recall what you were speaking of, "I had forgotten all about that, but yes," he begins to smile fondly, "quite an impressive feat we pulled off that Summer, building that - was it a trebuchet? Have I've been misremembering it as a ballista all these years?"

While James was fondly caught up in his reminiscing, Elspeth just looked a little forlorn. However Oliver, seemingly bewildered by the entire concept, can't help but voice his surprise.

"You spent your Summer building an actual trebuchet with Y/N's dad?"

"Yes, I suppose I did," James chuckled, "at the end of our first year, I believe, just a few months before Andreas and Pearl got engaged. Andreas invited myself and a few of our mates to stay at his family's townhouse in - oh, it was so long ago now - Kensington, I think? Four of us from Oxford, Andreas, and his brothers, all working on this project and otherwise having a grand, old time around London."

"Wait, was that the Summer you kept running into Freddie Mercury and his husband?" Venetia piped up, to which James smiled broadly.

"Garden Lodge was just a few doors down," he enthused brightly, "it seemed like every other day Jim would have to come and collect one of their cats from where we were working; Delilah was very fond of Andreas especially."

Felix himself is bewildered by the information; he knew your parents attended Oxford at the same time as his, but sometimes he forgot that they were actually friends before you and Felix got involved. Of course he kind of knew, considering both of your mothers' heavy involvement in the Arts' Collective, but to think his father had once spent a Summer with your own... It felt uncomfortable in ways Felix hadn't expected.

But when he looks back to you, there's something faraway in your gaze. Your smile doesn't even begin to reach your eyes.

"He's still very proud of it, I'm sure," you tell him with as much warmth as you're able, "the trebuchet, I mean," which Felix knew to mean 'he was proud of it when I was a child, but I haven't spoken to him in years'.

"Darling," Elspeth brings the conversation back around, her tone firm but sweet as she reiterates, "they're not going to trebuchet you into the sun."

At face value it sounds ridiculous, but there's something about how his mother can see through your hyperbole to how genuinely hurt you are by the whole situation that makes Felix quietly marvel. Even with all of her strangeness about you, your identity, and even your relationship with Felix at times, she honestly cares about you. Sometimes she seems to see you as clearly as Felix does.

Maybe she can help Felix see the whole situation with Ollie more clearly too.

In the moment that follows, you let the tension in you break for just a moment, fixing an endeared smile upon Elspeth for her kindness.

"I know," you assured her sincerely, "I'll be okay, I'm going to give nan a call and talk things through with her." With that, you stand, having had enough of this charade for the time being.

"Good," Elspeth nodded firmly, then adding, "give her my love."

"I always do," this time, your smile is entirely genuine, and for just a moment you turn it upon Felix. There's actual amusement as you rest your hand on his shoulder.

"Am I allowed in the quarantine zone?" He can't help but tease in an attempt to play along and lighten your mood; your smile, for just a moment, widens.

"Even you, my love, are excluded," though you pause, giving it some thought, "until lunch." But then, as you contemplate leaving, as you seem to remember the totality of your situation, you face starts to fall. Felix takes your hand, giving it a squeeze, which you return, and press a kiss to the top of his head.

And then you're gone.

Ollie's looking at the doors you'd just left through, and Felix wonders if his concern is at all genuine. But before anyone can say anything else, Felix turns to his mother, trying his best to keep the mood light.

"Mum, could I have a word with you after breakfast?"

Immediately Venetia's head shoots up, looking sharply at Felix. It's a struggle to keep his focus on his mother's surprise and act like his sister's sudden attention in his peripheries didn't make his blood burn. She should be scared.

"Of course, Felix," Elspeth actually seems delighted that he wants to spend time with her, though for a moment her brow furrows, "is everything alright?"

"Yeah, of course," he lies easily, "Y/N was just telling me about some stuff they wanted to chat to you about, and I said I could talk to you about it if they wanted to focus on their family stuff this morning. They made me a list," he adds for good measure. Elspeth's concern softens to understanding. Her thoughtful, helpful boy, he can almost hear her thoughts. Technically she's right.

Venetia's expression is sour, but she goes back to her book.

"Darling," Elspeth turns to James, who once again lowers his paper to give her his attention, "you were going to head into town this morning, were you not?"

"Yes," James perked up considerably, suddenly enthusiastic about his day, "one of the boys back from when I played polo invited some of the team to catch up over fish and chips," he seemed positively gleeful at the very novelty of the idea, "at a pub! I should be back before dinner."

"Oh, that sounds marvellous, I hope you have a wonderful time," Elspeth coos, before turning back to Felix, "would you like to have morning tea on the balcony of the sitting room next to your father's study?"

"Sounds perfect, mum."

However as he leaves the table, he's quickly followed by Ollie, who's asking what's wrong the minute they're alone.

"What?"

"What's wrong," Ollie repeats in earnest, "with you, with Y/N, with Venetia? Everything feels a bit off, you know? But I don't know why." He knows exactly why, the lying, little - but that thought's cut short. Considering the company his parents' keep, Felix knows all too well what fake concern looks like; Ollie is being infuriatingly genuine.

"My best mate's family is attempting to excommunicate them," Felix says through his teeth, gazing anywhere but at Ollie, "Venetia-" he huffs an irate sigh, lying when he says, "I couldn't begin to guess at the source of her mood, you'd have to ask her," which he regrets as soon as he says it; the last thing he wants is Ollie spending any more time with Venetia, especially when she's particularly volatile.

Rocking back on his heels, Ollie takes a beat to consider this, before ultimately coming to accept it. Side by side, they start back towards their rooms in silence. There's anger simmering just beneath Felix's skin, but if he opens his mouth, all he's going to do is start shouting. Being alone next to Ollie less than twelve hours after your revelations and his subsequent taking of responsibilities, not to mention his utter lack of sleep, means he's definitely not in his right mind to have a reasonable conversation about... well, anything.

"I want to know why he did what he did before I tell you."

That's what you'd kept repeating. Felix wants to be in a state of mind where he can get that information out of Ollie before actually passing judgement. But it was fucking difficult if he was being honest.

And outside of his room, Ollie apologises quietly. Felix keeps his mouth shut, but suddenly is levelling his furious gaze upon Ollie. Who doesn't see it. He's looking at the ground.

"S-sorry about Pearl and, um, their dad," he clarifies into the silence, "I can't remember his name."

"Andreas," Felix bites out automatically. Ollie's expression wrinkles reflexively; it's almost amusing, the way his reflexes give away his disdain for just the name itself. It's a wanky, asshole name, for a wanky, asshole man.

"Right," Ollie quickly recovers, finally meeting Felix's gaze. Thankfully the intensity of that gaze had softened, "I don't think they'll ever apologise, but I think Y/N deserves an apology," he admits. It's... conflicting; the sentiment is sweet, but Ollie has so much more he actually has to apologise for. Felix keeps his mouth shut. Clearing his throat, Ollie doesn't seem to be done, "but at least they're not Y/N's actual family," and in seeing Felix's faint confusion, he actually smiles, that small, sweet smile that's frustratingly endearing, "you are," he explained, "they said so themselves; you and Venetia and your mum and dad. Pearl and Andreas are excommunicating them, they've got better family than that."

Felix kind of hates how much he loves Oliver Quick and his thoughtful, insightful mind. How can he say things while Felix is mad at him that still make him want to sweep Ollie off his feet and kiss him? Bastard.

"It's what they deserve," Felix finally manages, reaching out to his doorknob, feeling the conversation coming to a close, "we love them a lot."

"Me too," Ollie agrees quietly, opening his own door, "hope morning tea with your mum is nice, I think I'm going to head down to the pool."

And he leaves Felix alone with his thoughts.

The minute he's in his room, Felix closes his curtains and flops into bed. One of the staff will come and fetch him when his mother is ready for morning tea. After this morning and all of last night, the only thing Felix knows for certain is that he can't have another serious conversation without at least an hour of sleep.

Thankfully he gets that hour. Actually his mother has the grace to give him several, as Duncan comes to collect him just before eleven. Felix feels like a child, still yawning and shuffling his feet for at least half the journey as the butler always stays three steps ahead. As if Felix could get lost in his own home. The only person who's ever been better than him at hide and seek around Saltburn was Venetia, and only because she's smaller and can fit in more obscure places.

All that to say that he doesn't need Duncan to lead him to his mother's favourite sitting room, but that's just how things have always worked around the estate. Felix doesn't even think to comment on it beyond thanking the head of staff as Duncan lets him in after a cursory knock on the door.

Felix has always liked his mother's favourite sitting room. It's one of the few rooms in the house that actually feels like someone lives there. It's where his mother keeps the portrait James commissioned of their family when Felix was a child. He remembers how his parents wanted the experience to be authentic, just as the royals on their walls would have had. It had been a real bonding experience for the Catton siblings, who absolutely hated said 'authentic' experience; right next to the beautiful, oil painting, Elspeth had lovingly framed the hand written letter a six-year-old Felix and eight-year-old Venetia had angrily written together, threatening to call the government if they were ever made to stay that still for that long in clothes that itchy ever again.

There's framed photos his mother loves but feels like she can't display in the rest of the house - unflattering or overexposed photos full of motion, and laughter, and love. An uneven throw that Venetia had made for a school assessment over the back of a sofa, accompanied by an lumpy, little pillow Felix had made for a similar school project only a few years later, amongst others bought from expensive, eclectic stores over the years. All the letters James had written Elspeth whenever they were away from each other, from the week they'd begun dating, to the day they got married, professionally bound amongst other coffee table books.

Gilded glimpses of his family's humanity.

If things somehow work out with Ollie, Felix makes a mental note to bring him here and show him every last thing. He'd never even thought to show Eddie this room, his mother had never even brought it up last Summer, though perhaps it was for the best. Or perhaps it was on purpose.

Elspeth is absolutely thrilled that he wanted to spend time with her. Before he's even halfway across the sitting room itself, she's off of the sofa on the balcony, and has met him halfway, kissing him on both cheeks with the biggest smile. Then she's taking his hand, asking him if he was able to get any more rest, as she leads him out to the little balcony, and the tea and biscuits waiting for them.

Felix tells her he had as he sits down beside her, but Elspeth takes gentle hold of his face, expression concerned. He knows he still looks tired before she even says anything.

Something in his mother's eyes changes, like she can see the sword of Damocles held aloft by a gossamer thread above his head. Usually she shies away from moments like this, from ugly ideas like heartbreak and discomfort, but she sits with him in this moment, quiet, giving him space and time to find his voice.

For just a moment he is a child again, and he is exhausted.

"I'm always glad to spend time with you, my darling," Elspeth tells him with the kind of softness he rarely hears from her anymore. She squishes his cheeks fondly, and Felix, going with his youthful impulse, shifts on the sofa so he can lay his head in her lap, squeezing his eyes shut.

He's too big for the tiny sofa at the best of times, but they make do, with Elspeth gently stroking his hair as she finally decides to break the silence.

"I was thinking of having Nana Bijou over, I'd love for her to meet Ollie," she says carefully; Felix can't manage more than a noncommittal hum right now. Depending on how things go with Ollie, he may have to talk his mum out of that idea, but he doesn't want to tip his hand just yet, "actually I was wondering what you would think if I invited her to Ollie's birthday."

Your Nana would probably have a blast at what you and Elspeth already had planned for the event, but Felix still held reservations. As cool as she was, he wasn't sure he wanted her to see either you or himself shitfaced, and no matter how things turned out with Ollie, Felix still kind of wanted the party to go ahead either way.

And if it went bad he'd definitely be shitfaced.

"Maybe," is all he can give his mother in this moment. It's like he can feel his mother's concern in the face of his perceived apathy; Felix loved your Nana as much as he hated your parents, his apathy was worryingly uncharacteristic, "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night," Felix admits softly after a long sigh.

"I could tell," Elspeth gives his cheek a sympathetic pat, though she chooses to follow it up with - "though I must admit, that was my concern with you and Y/N sharing a room."

"Oh god, mum, not like that!" Felix hissed, mortified, his whole face scrunching up with embarrassment.

"Though I suppose I was fighting fate with that one, wasn't I?" She continues blithely, and Felix sits up, hunching over with his face in his hands.

"That's not- mum, please, I wanted to actually talk to you about something serious, can you not do this -" Felix groaned, and when he lowers his hands, he tries to give his mother an imploring look.

"Oh God, darling, please don't tell me you're pregnant," Elspeth bemoaned, expression practically pleading, "I'm too young to be a grandmother." This... wasn't the direction he'd been expecting. Actually, it might be worse.

"I'm... not?"

"You don't sound sure; is Y/N pregnant?"

"No," Felix answers flatly, but his confusion is only heightened as his mother continues on.

"It's not Oliver, is it?"

"It... it kind of is." His exhaustion and confusion are definitely about Oliver -

"He's pregnant?!"

"What?! No! Mum, what?!" This conversation is quickly veering out of control, and Felix has absolutely no way of stopping it. Unfortunately, his mother doesn't slow down.

"I'm sorry, I had assumed it would be either you or Y/N -"

"Why? Why would you assume that?" Felix tries to wrap his head around this, but it's not quite working, "especially me, the son you gave birth to?"

"Oh, Felix, please don't remind me," Elspeth mutter, looking vaguely squeamish, "I spent a lot of time repressing those memories."

"Isn't it the birth of your children meant to be the happiest days of your life?"

"Don't take it personally, dear; I love you, but I never enjoyed bringing you or your sister into this world. Hospitals are dreadfully ugly, even the nice ones, and the smell -" before she can continue, however, Felix cuts her off.

"Sorry, I just - I tell you I want to talk to you about something serious, and your first thought is that my best mate got me pregnant? I cannot stress this enough, mum, I am physically incapable of getting pregnant. I do not have the equipment."

"Which is why I then asked about Y/N -"

"Mum -"

"Well I don't know, Felix!" Elspeth huffed, "what was I meant to think when you and your- your- your gender-defying- subverting- whatever they are -"

"Non-binary, mum," Felix corrects automatically, but Elspeth continues like she hadn't heard him.

"- when the two of you are loudly debasing yourselves all over the estate?"

"Oh my god," oh, Felix kind of hates this.

"Don't be ashamed, dear, the rest of us just tend to avoid your wing of the house after sunset; it's not that hard, it's a big house. As long as you're both happy," Elspeth insists, before offering casually, "and I think Pamela, god rest her soul, was telling me about male seahorses just before she left -"

"I'm not a seahorse!" Felix cuts her off loudly, unable to believe this was a real conversation he was having, "I'm not pregnant! No-one's pregnant!" He throws his hands in the air, "I think I'm in love with Oliver, fuck, that's what I came here to talk about!"

"Oh thank god," Elspeth breathes with a laugh, petting Felix's knee. Her earlier concern has evaporated and she fixes him with a fond smile, "I know, sweetheart. Your father and I love you very much, and we always have, no matter who you love. We're glad you and Y/N have found such a beautifully interesting man who makes you both happy," she tells him pointedly, as if his whole point was that he was worried about coming out to her. Christ, like he hadn't explicitly introduced them to his whole boyfriend the year before.

Like you and Felix had any idea what the hell subtlety was when you were at Saltburn.

So maybe his mother sees the situation too clearly, if she can see how in love you and Felix both are with Ollie.

And maybe, despite her best efforts, she wasn't someone who could help Felix sort out all the bullshit in his head and heart. He'd have to bite the bullet and just talk to Ollie... preferably soon, because the stress was going to give him a headache. He has no idea how you held out for days, over a week, with this kind of thing weighing on you.

At least if things went well, he knew his mother liked Ollie.

But wait, what was that last bit?

"'Makes both of us happy'?" Felix frowned, "what's that supposed to mean?"

It was Elspeth's turn to look tired.