#it's like my inner secrets have been exposed

[xmalfoyweasleyx]

Jealousy, jealousy - Azriel x reader

Summary: The whole inner circle is tired of you and Azriel flirting with each other, without acting on it. So Rhys decided to help his sister and Azriel with that, by planning a special birthday party for her. Based on this request.

Warnings: Smut! 18+! Az is jealous (but it's fluff)

Azriel couldn’t stop watching you. Again.

You were sitting on the couch in front of him at the townhouse, silently watching your brother, Rhys, talk. Azriel loved watching you, your shy, yet clever eyes were always so observant. On top of that, you looked beautiful tonight. You wore a dress that looked like it was made of starlight and your pretty lips were painted in a color that made-

“You’re daydreaming again, Az,” Rhys interrupted his thoughts, making Az’s eyes quickly avert his gaze from y/n, to her brother sitting next to her.

“Probably dreaming about his undying love for Truth-Teller,” y/n smiled. The shy, yet flirty smile that always made Az go week in the knees.

Before he could even try to suppress it, a wave of warmth filled Az’s cheeks, exposing his adoration. You were the only person who could make him blush like that. It has been this way since the first day he’d met you, when you were teenagers, which is already centuries ago. Rhys only introduced his sister years after he’d met Azriel and Cassian. She was still young, but so was he. It wasn’t hard to fall in love with her. The way she was hiding behind her brother, shy, yet curious, peeking behind his shoulder at the two Illyrians standing in front of her. Suddenly a smile was on her curious face, and the first thing you’d said was: “Are those shadows yours? They’re very beautiful.”

Since that moment, Az was a goner. He never acted on it though. Too scared, too insecure and too worried he would ruin your friendship. It had been the same for years. The flirting, the teasing. But never more than that. 

Until a few months ago. When the bond snapped.

In that moment, Azriel couldn’t be any happier. It all made sense now. But then he realized, it didn’t snap for you. You didn’t seem to know. And it happened all over again, he was scared. What if you didn’t want him as your mate? What if it would freak you out? And what if Rhys would hate him for it?

“You’re still staring at me, Azzie” he heard y/n’s soft voice, yet again interrupting his thoughts. He looked confused for a moment, as if finally realizing where he was. “Oh yes, I'm sorry, you do look beautiful tonight y/n, you can’t blame me,” he smiled nonchalantly. It was always like this, the flirting and the compliments. It was normal.

“You look great too Az,” you returned the smile. Another wave of warmth heated his face. He quickly tried to hide the flushed cheeks, when fortunately, Cassian guided the attention to him. “So, what are we going to do for your birthday tomorrow y/n?” Cas asked. 

“Oh, I don’t know, I guess we could go out or something? Nothing special, just like we always do,” you answered.

Rhys clicked his tongue at that. “Nothing special? My dear sister, I think you don’t know me that well then. We have the perfect surprise for you.” That was something new. “Do we?” Az asked confused. “Well, now I’m curious,” Feyre smiled.

What Az didn’t know is that the whole inner circle knew about his “secret” feelings for you, only Az and y/n were oblivious. Honestly, his friends didn’t know how the observant shadowsinger didn’t notice how obvious it was. He always gets shy and smiled with y/n. It was a mystery how he didn’t realize the fact he had a lovesick look all over his face when he’s watching her. So Rhys, the good brother he is, decided to come up with a plan. The easy strategies didn’t work, so he decided to use the one thing Az couldn’t hide, jealousy.

*******

When it was finally the evening of your birthday, it turned out Rhys’ surprise, indeed, was special. Your brother had decided to take you all to some dance show’ but it wasn’t some normal dance show, you realized when you saw the poster hanging on the door of the club. It were only male dancers. Male dancers with not so many clothes, it seemed. “Now I’m really curious brother” you sighed. “You’ll love it.”

Your brother was right, it was so much fun. You ate and drank with the inner circle, watching the show from your shared table. They even got you a cake with fireworks. But that wasn’t the only surprise.

You were all cheering when one of the dancers came to you. He was muscled and had beautiful, curly blonde hair. Before you could process what was happening, he grabbed your hand and pulled you on the stage with him. The male put you on a chair in the middle of the stage and started moving around you, your face flushed immediately.

He smirked at you, showing off his impressive moves. You couldn’t help but smile at him. It was fun to let go for a moment and enjoy the silliness of it all. The whole inner circle was cheering for you.

Az on the other hand, didn’t like it that much. He balled his hands into fists, when he saw the way the male grabbed your hand and guided you to the stage. He gritted his teeth, the way you blushed, the way he was moving around you and even touched you… And then you smiled at that male.

Az had to muster every ounce of self-control. He did all he could to not just get up on that stage, and bring you back to their table. He wanted to be the one to touch you like that. He wanted to be the one to make you smile. 

Even after the show was over and you were brought back to your original spot, Az couldn’t shake off the jealous feeling. His whole body was still tense and he had a dark look on his face.

“Something the matter, Azriel?” Rhys smirked teasingly, grabbing his friend's shoulder, knowing damn well why he was acting like this. “No.” Azriel answered shortly, taking another big sip from his drink.

******

Y/n was so tired when she arrived at her bedroom. She sat on her bed, taking her shoes off with a relieved sigh, ready to go to sleep. But suddenly she heard someone knock on the door. It was Azriel.

“Hey Az, what are you doing here?” 

“Just wanted to say goodnight after such a… special… birthday evening,” he grinned.

“Yeah it was… something,” you giggle. You sat next to each other on the bed in silence for a moment.

“Did you think he was hot?” Az blurted out. “Who?” you asked confused. “That guy, the one who danced for you,” he grumbled. “Oh, I-I don’t know, he was fine,” you faltered. 

Az didn’t answer. “Are you okay Azzie? You seem tense.” You rubbed his shoulder gently, trying to comfort him.

“I didn’t like it” he stated. Y/n was confused. “W-were you… were you jealous?” Az only sighed, looking down.

“It was just, he was… he shouldn’t touch you like that” he tried to explain without making his jealousy too obvious. You were disappointed for a moment, he probably just didn’t like it because he saw you as his little sister, you thought. Because he wanted to protect you. “I’m sorry Az,” you silently said. “No, no, don’t apologize y/n, it’s my fault, I’m acting stupid.”

“I get that you feel like this, you see me as a... sister, you feel protective over me or something, I get it Az,” you sighed. Azriel looked up, his hazel eyes carefully watching you. He frowned, “Do you really think that’s how I feel about you?” It’s silent for a moment. “I was jealous y/n, very jealous” he finally confessed.

“Y-you were?” you stroked his cheek softly, fingertips tracing the freckles down his neck. Azriel nodded, you looked in each others eyes for a long moment. His pupils dilated, a hungry look on his face. Then the room suddenly filled with the smell of your arousal. “You want to… you want to show me what you look like without that shirt then?” you hesitated. “Yeah? You want that?” he smirked. “Yes” you answered breathlessly. 

Az slowly took his shirt off, your eyes tracing the lines of his muscles hungrily. “Much better than that male,” you sighed. “C’mere” he groaned, surprising you by grabbing your hips and lifting your body on top of him in one move. You were straddling him now, arms tightly wrapped around his neck.

And then his lips were on yours, hungrily moving against each other. He grabbed your ass, squeezing it gently. A gasp left your mouth, “Azzie, Az please.” You started moving against him, pressed so close to each other, yet it wasn’t enough. 

“What do you want, baby?” he whispered against your lips. “I want you.”

“And what exactly do you want from me? Tell me y/n,” he groaned.

“Your cock, I want to feel you in me, Azriel, please” you begged.

“So pretty when you beg like that, darling. But not so fast.” He wrapped his arms tightly around your back and turned you around. You’re back now against the bed, with Azriel’s body hovering above you. His wings were spread wide and his shadows were moving around you. Silently asking their master for permission to touch you too.

They helped him with getting you out of your birthday dress, the soft tendrils caressed your skin so deliciously. The shadows danced around your whole body, touching you almost everywhere. You felt a familiar heat growing in lower stomach.

The male above you spread your legs wider, placing soft kisses closer and closer to where you wanted him most.

You grabbed his dark locks in your hand, eagerly trying to guide him to your pussy. “Patience, baby, patience,” he calmly said.

His hands traveled up your body, gently grabbing your breasts, his palm stroking your nipple. “So pretty for me,” he cooed. 

And then he finally pressed his soft lips against your pussy, a load moan left your mouth. He started to lick like a starved male. His lips softly wrapping around your clit, sucking messily. He then wrapped your legs around his head, locking in his face in between them. He groaned into your cunt, “Azzie, yes, feels so good”.

Then you noticed that he was grinding against the mattress, trying to find some relief too. He was already so turned on, just from the taste of your pussy. “I want you to feel good too,” you whined. Azriel replaced his tongue with his fingers, the scarred skin softly rubbing your clit, “Oh I already feel amazing, baby, don't worry.”

You gasped when you felt his finger enter your pussy, stroking the soft walls. Your breathing grew louder. “Yeah, you like that?” He chuckled. 

It felt amazing, but you wanted him in you, you wanted him pussy drunk, feral for you. So you could only do one thing, touch his wings. 

You gently stroked the less sensitive part on the outside of his wing, testing the waters. He groaned, “Oh baby, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

You decided to stroke a more sensitive part, making him grab your thighs harshly. Az sat up. “Come here, you dirty little girl,” he said huskily. “Do you want me to fuck you y/n? Is that what you want, huh?”

“Yes, please, yes” you whined.

“How could I deny that pretty face? My beautiful little girl,” he cooed, leaning in closer to press his lips against yours again. You helped him pull his pants down, his impressive length sprang free. You gulped. He was long.

"Don’t worry, if you want to stop we’ll stop” he murmured into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin gently. “No, no! I can handle it,” you claimed, your hand wrapping around him, eager to feel the soft skin in your hands. He groaned into your ear, “Shit, you have no idea how turned on I am right now.” You giggled, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, already soaking wet.

“Are you sure?” he whispered. “Yes, I’m sure Az, want to feel you” 

He slowly entered you, sucking your nipples as a distraction for the pain. But it was a good kind of pain, you wanted more. So you grabbed his ass, trying to push him deeper into you. "Don't... don't be scared, it feels good," you said in between heavy breaths.

“Needy little girl” he grinned. His rhythm picked up and his thrusts started to get harder. His hips slamming against yours

“You feel so good, this pussy is mine isn’t it? Only mine” he whimpered into your ear. “Yes, Az, my pussy is yours. I'm yours,” you moaned. Az started to fuck you harder, “Say it again” he demanded.

 “I’m yours, only yours Azriel” 

“That’s right, good girl,” he moaned, putting one of your legs over his shoulder. The new angle made you gasp. Your places your hands against his chest, your nails softly stroking down his abs.

Azriel was mesmerized, his eyes fixated on your swollen lips, the lips he couldn't believe he just kissed, and the way your tits bounced because of the force of his thrusts.

He looked so handsome like this. His messy hair falling over his face, his eyes half-lidded, the blush on his cheeks and the heavy breaths that left his mouth.

“I’m already so close Azzie,” you whined. "Already?” He teased. You nodded. “I want you to come with me,” you pleaded, one of your hands lifting up again to stroke the inside of his wing. Az moaned at the feeling, the arm that held him up collapsed beneath him, his body softly falling against yours.

His chest was now pressed against you, the position was so intimate. His thrusts started to get sloppy. “Baby, baby…” he whined softly in your ear. Both drunk on the feeling of each other.

His fingers circled your clit, making you moan his name like a prayer, over and over. The familiar feeling coiled in your lower belly, finally snapping when he nibbled on your earlobe. High-pitched moans filled the room, your orgasm washing over you like a big wave. Azriel moaned with you, his brows knitted together.

“Where do you want me? On your tits? On your pussy? In your pretty mouth?”

“In me, I want you in me Az, please,” you whined, craving to feel more of him, to be claimed by him. You wanted to be his the way no one ever was before. Az groaned in answer, heavy breaths tumbling out of his mouth. You felt him release inside your pussy, moaning your name against your cheek, riding out his high slowly. 

Azriel fell next to you with a loud sigh. His arms tightly wrapped around you. He placed a soft kiss against your neck and stroked your inner arm. “You don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming about this.” he confessed. “Me too” you answered. You should probably talk about this, but for now, you just wanted to sleep. Comfortably in Azriel’s warm arms.

********

The next morning, y/n was watching Azriel sleep next to her. Her hand stroked his naked chest while her other hand played with his soft dark hair. He looked like an angel, laying there, so peaceful. 

And suddenly, she felt a tug in her chest. A thread, a feeling like no other. Y/n gasped, making Az’s eyes open slowly. “Good morning” he whispered with a smile. Y/n only stared at him.

She couldn’t believe it. He was her mate. Her mate.

“Y-you’re my mate” she whispered. Az sat up immediately, grabbing her cheek gently. “It snapped? It finally snapped for you too?” He whispered, his eyes getting teary. “You knew?” 

“I’ve known for a few months now, but before last night, I didn’t think you’d want me” he murmured. “Oh Az, of course I want you, I’ve loved you since we were teenagers and met in Windhaven, I’ve loved you since I noticed the beautiful, smart and compassionate male hidden behind those shadows,” you smiled. “I love you” he smiled, kissing you softly.

An hour later you went downstairs together. The rest of the Inner Circle was already in the living room, doing each their own thing.

Rhys’ eyes immediately went to your intertwined hands, an unreadable look on his face. “Rhys, before you say something, I want you to know I would never hurt your sister and I am-“ Az quickly tried to explain. But Rhys interrupted him with a voluminous laugh.

“Finally!” He smiled, getting up to face you both. “I’ve been trying to get you together for the last year, but you both were so oblivious” he teasingly rolled his eyes and opened his arms, hugging you both. “Yeah honestly Az, it was about damn time” Cassian smirked.

[yumeka-sxf]

Japanese Linguistic Observations in Spy x Family - part 1

This is a post series I've been planning for a while and I've finally had the time to complete part 1! 😃 I may have mentioned here before that I got my B.A. in Japanese/East Asian Studies, and even though I'm not fluent, I know the linguistics of the language fairly well. So I thought it would be fun to examine the interesting aspects of the Japanese version of the SxF manga that aren't reflected in the English translation. It might also be an informative experience for those who don't know any Japanese to learn a bit about the language through SxF! I'll try not to get too technical with the linguistics and keep my explanations at a beginner's level.

-----

Part 1 - Twilight's "honne and tatemae"

One of the main themes in SxF is how many of the characters have secrets they want to hide, so they act a certain way in front of others in order to mask their true selves. Japanese has a word for this phenomena called 本音と建前 ("honne and tatemae").

I remember learning about the concept of "honne and tatemae" during my Japanese college studies – a quick google search will yield a lot of publications on the topic and its relation to Japanese culture in particular. While the idea of hiding one's true intentions behind a fake facade can exist anywhere and is not something unique to Japan, it is enough of an occurrence in Japanese culture that there are specific words for it. The Wiki article has a basic but good definition of honne and tatemae, to quote:

A person's honne may be contrary to what is expected by society or what is required according to one's position and circumstances, and they are often kept hidden, except with one's closest friends. Tatemae is what is expected by society and required according to one's position and circumstances, and these may or may not match one's honne. In many cases, tatemae leads to outright telling of lies in order to avoid exposing the true inward feelings.

Sounds very much like the characters in SxF, doesn't it? Twilight especially, because unlike other characters like Yor and Anya, who simply have secrets they need to keep but don't create fake personas for themselves, Twilight does – the cheerful, friendly Loid Forger is a different person from the cold, calculating Twilight after all. Also unlike Yor and Anya, who speak the same way consistently no matter who they're talking to, Twilight uses different speech levels depending on which persona he's using and who he's talking to.

There are many different levels of speech in Japanese, ranging from super formal to totally crude. These speech levels are distinguished mostly by the pronouns the speaker chooses to use for themselves and who they're speaking to, as well as how they choose to conjugate the words they use. For example, 座ってください (suwatte kudasai), 座って (suwatte,) and 座れ (suware) all mean "sit," as in, telling someone to sit down. But the tone being conveyed is different: the first one is polite, the second one is casual, and the last one could be seen as rude if you're not using it with a close friend/family member.

As Twilight, he uses casual speech with the masculine and less polite pronoun 俺 or オレ (ore). This is the speech he uses when talking to a fellow spy like Fiona, and for his own inner thoughts.

As Loid Forger, he uses the polite 敬語 (keigo) speech, which is basically comprised of using the -ます (-masu) conjugation for verbs and the "to be" verb です (desu). He also uses the pronoun ボク or 僕 (boku), which is the standard male pronoun and more polite than "ore." He uses keigo to address pretty much everyone who doesn't know his true identity. When talking to a higher-up like Sylvia, he'll still use "ore" but will use polite speech instead of casual speech.

Anya is an exception to this: with her, he uses his most casual speech, the same as he uses with Franky.

I discussed a bit about this in part 24 of my Twiyor analysis posts, but this could be because Anya is a little kid, so he doesn't feel the need to put on any airs with her (same with Bond, whom he also uses casual speech with).

An interesting side note is that, as a child, Twilight used the pronoun "boku" but then changed to "ore" as soon as he became an adult/soldier.

Another aspect of keigo, besides using the more polite forms of pronouns and verb conjugations, is putting the honorific さん (san) after people's names. Twilight does this all the time with Yor, as she does with him. However, he switches to casual speech and drops the "san" part in her name when addressing her in front of people who (supposedly) believe they're a real married couple, such as Yuri and Fiona – because it would be weird for a real couple who have been married for a year to address each other in such a formal way, especially the husband. In the below panel when Fiona visits them, he's calling her "Yor" instead of "Yor-san" and using casual speech instead of keigo.

Oddly in these situations, while he uses just "Yor" when addressing her directly, he still calls her "Yor-san" when talking about her. During Yuri's first visit for example, he calls her "Yor-san" when telling Yuri how much Anya loves her (talking to someone about her) but then calls her just "Yor" a few moments later when telling her that he'll clean up the spill (talking to her directly). It's strange to me that he wouldn't just consistently use "Yor" whether he's talking to her or about her in these situations...I'm honestly not sure if he does this intentionally or if he just slips up since he's so used to using "Yor-san" in her presence.

*UPDATE* Thank you to @dentedintheworld-blog for enlightening me with the below reply about this!

"In Japanese, when speaking to your spouse's family about your spouse, you address her/him by attaching "san" her/his name out of respect for her/his family. This is also to show her/his family that you respect your spouse. That's why Loid calls Yor with san when he talks about how much he loves Yor to Yuri."

That definitely makes sense for why Twilight switches between "Yor" and "Yor-san" in these situations.

Regardless, this is why the scene in chapter 86 is so significant – when Yor isn't present, there's no reason for him to refer to her as "Yor-san," especially in front of a fellow spy like Fiona who knows he (supposedly) shouldn't have any feelings for her. Yet, even after he just called Yuri by his full name "Yuri Briar" a moment before, he doesn't do the same for Yor and continues to call her "Yor-san" here, much to Fiona's dismay.

In the same chapter, it's also significant that he uses "ore" when addressing Yor directly in his thoughts. Even though he's not speaking out loud, I believe this is the first time he's speaking directly "to" her as Twilight and/or his true self and not as Loid Forger.

But despite all this, I think that both Loid Forger and Twilight are tatemae…they're both masks to hide the person he truly is. The person who fondly talked about his mother to Yor on the park bench, the person who genuinely expressed gratitude for her sacrifice when leaving the resort island, the person who refused to kill Yuri in a life-or-death struggle because he knew it would hurt her…that's his actual honne. But of course, the ongoing conflict of the series is that he has yet to realize this. He won't even show his honne to his closest friend, Franky. Seems like it mostly comes out in dribs and drabs during his interactions with Yor...no surprise there, lol. The man is certainly a work in progress. When he finally starts letting his "honne" show, I'm curious what form of speech he'll adopt.

-----

Continue to Part 2 ->

[bangchansdirty-slut]

Can you please do the office meeting fucking "hyunjin x m'reader" please?? I'm begging you! :D

Boss's Request

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: Top!Boss!Hyunjin x Bttm!Assisant!Male Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Hyunjin decides to spice up the meeting after being pent up and teased by you all day.

More: Masterlist

A/n: Requests are open

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

The fashion world was abuzz with anticipation as the new Hwang Hyunjin line was about to be unveiled. M/n, the boss's "personal" assistant, was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, making sure every last detail was perfect. Hyunjin himself was pacing the floor, his usually immaculate suit rumpled and his hair mussed. Something was clearly bothering him, but no one could quite put their finger on it. Everyone else was too focused on the new designs and the potential impact they could have on the industry.

Meanwhile, M/n caught a glimpse of Hyunjin stealing glances in his direction every now and then. It was almost as if the boss was… admiring him. M/n couldn't help but feel a blush creep up his neck. He'd been with Hyunjin for long enough to know that look, and it usually meant trouble.

As the final touches were being put on the collection, Hyunjin called M/n over to his office. Once the door was closed and they were alone, Hyunjin leaned against his desk, his eyes raking over M/n's body. "You've been busy lately," he purred. "I've barely seen you. I've missed…" He trailed off, biting his bottom lip. "I've missed my stress reliever."

M/n felt his heart skip a beat. He knew exactly what Hyunjin meant. Their relationship had been secret for months, but it was no secret that whenever M/n was around, Hyunjin seemed to forget about everything else. He was always so focused on M/n, and it drove him wild.

As the two went to the meeting and sat down, M/n could feel Hyunjin's eyes on him, even when he was speaking with the other designers. It was a mix of desire and possessiveness that made M/n's blood race. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn't help but feel turned on by the attention.

The meeting went on, with M/n doing his best to keep his mind on the task at hand. But every time Hyunjin shifted in his seat or let out a soft groan, M/n's focus would slip. It was obvious that Hyunjin was struggling to contain himself, and M/n couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he gave in to those urges.

Finally, midway through the presentation, M/n felt Hyunjin's hand snake its way up his inner thigh. He glanced over in surprise, only to find Hyunjin's dark eyes locked on him. The boss's expression was a mix of desire and possession that made M/n's heart race. Without another word, Hyunjin leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I can't take it anymore. Bend over the table."

Embarrassment washed over M/n as he complied, lowering his body and resting his elbows on the smooth surface. He felt Hyunjin's fingers trace the line of his boxers and pants before they were roughly yanked down, exposing him. The cool air from the air conditioner hit his sensitive skin, making him shiver.

But any hint of modesty was quickly forgotten as Hyunjin's hard length pressed against his entrance. There was no gentleness in the thrust, only a primal need that took control of the boss. M/n let out a gasp as Hyunjin pushed deeper, filling him completely.

Their moans filled the conference room full with employees, drowning out the sounds of the other designers as they presented their work. M/n could feel Hyunjin's hips slapping against his ass, driving himself deeper inside him with each thrust. He arched his back, unable to contain his own pleasure as his boss took control of him.

The other employees shifted uncomfortably in their seats, trying to pretend like they weren't watching the intimate scene unfolding before them. But Hyunjin didn't seem to care; he continued to fuck M/n, his gaze never leaving the other people in the room. He let out a husky laugh as he pulled out, only to thrust back in harder. "See, M/n? They're all looking away. They're afraid of what I'll do to them if they say anything about this. And you? You're mine. You have no reason to be embarrassed."

M/n gasped as Hyunjin's words sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn't deny the thrill he felt, knowing that they were putting on a show for everyone. It was a power play, and Hyunjin was in control. He arched his back, meeting Hyunjin's thrusts with equal fervor. The boss's cock felt impossibly big inside him, stretching him in ways he hadn't thought possible.

"That's it, baby," he whispered in M/n's ear. "Make them jealous. Make them wish it was them up there, taking my cock." With each thrust, Hyunjin's hips slapped against M/n's ass, driving him deeper inside. The boss's hands gripped M/n's hips tightly, holding him in place as he took him roughly.

M/n could feel his orgasm building, the pleasure overwhelming him as he felt so completely owned by his boss. He moaned Hyunjin's name, the sound filling the room as he lost control. His muscles tensed, and he arched his back, meeting Hyunjin's thrusts with a ferocity that left them both gasping for breath.

As he came, M/n felt Hyunjin's own release, felt the hot liquid spill over his entrance as the boss found his own release inside him. Their bodies moved together in perfect sync, the rhythm of their movements mirroring the power struggle that had brought them to this moment.

When at last they came down from their shared high, Hyunjin pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants. He straightened his tie, adjusting his suit jacket before turning back to face the others in the room. His expression was cool and confident, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired.

M/n, on the other hand, felt a mixture of emotions as he tried to regain his composure. His heart raced, his body still trembling from the intense release. He looked around, feeling the weight of the other designers' gazes on him, knowing that they had all witnessed what had just happened. But he also felt a newfound sense of power, of being a part of something bigger than himself.

Hyunjin leaned back against the table, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. His eyes met M/n's, and there was a smug satisfaction in them that M/n couldn't quite place. "Well," he said, his voice still husky from their exertions, "I think that's enough for today. You all have your assignments. Get back to your desks and make me proud."

As the other designers began to file out of the room, murmuring amongst themselves, M/n lingered behind, still feeling the aftershocks of their encounter. Hyunjin placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. "Come on, M/n," he whispered in his ear, "let's go back to my office and discuss your performance today."

[ode2rin]

it has become an awful pattern of habit how much itoshi sae always shows up at your doorstep only when he wants to. 

“don’t go out with oliver.”

and here he was again, like a recurring relapse that happens every single time you thought you’re doing better. the kind that hits when you think you're finally making progress, that momentary flicker of doing better before it all crumbles.

and you were. you’re doing good, doing better, but god, does it hurt like hell when he pulls stunts like this.

it was a relentless tug-of-war, a game he played so unfairly, leaving you with no rules, no defenses. you were damn sick of it. 

“really?” the word escaped as a scoff, a blend of disbelief and irritation coating your voice. “you're showing up to my place at this hour just to say that?” 

a drawn-out exhale left sae's lips at your reaction, the scent of alcohol accompanying it—a scent foreign to the sae you'd known. was he drinking? itoshi sae doesn’t drink – or at least the sae you knew would never let a single drop of alcohol taint his flesh. 

“just don’t. he’ll hurt you.”

a bitter laugh escaped you, “you're one to talk about hurting people, aren't you?”

if you didn't know better, you'd mistake the look he shot you for something resembling an apology mixed with regret. but no, you knew that those eyes can never hold such, not for you, not for anyone.

“news flash, itoshi. you don’t have the right to decide who i can or cannot go out with.” 

“don’t i?” 

his challenge lingered in the air, a question not constrained by words but driven by conflicting wills, a daring meeting of gazes that had been evaded until now.

you're so fucking unfair, itoshi sae.

“leave,” you spat, your grip on the doorknob tightened, fingers almost digging into the cool metal. 

“don’t i, y/n? do i not have a right to you?”

“please, sae. just go,” you murmured, eyes squeezed shut, a trace of tears threatening to break free.

“— because you have all damn rights to me that it fucking terrifies me.” 

and there it was.

the vulnerability he so fiercely and stubbornly concealed, laid bare for you to witness. it slipped out like an admission, raw and unguarded.

sae's insides churned as your gaze bore into him, the intensity of it feeling like a searing heat that left him exposed, his thoughts laid bare. it was as if you were looking at him as if he had grown a second head, an incredulity mirrored in his own disbelief at what he had just blurted.

but it’s the truth, a truth etched not in alcohol-induced haze but in the sobering clarity that you, ever loving you, terrified him. 

“you– you terrify me," his words stumbled out, like he was admitting a secret he never meant to reveal. “you’re the first thought that comes to my mind, and the last one before i sleep. i feel you everywhere, your presence, your absence — it terrifies me, y/n.” 

he ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration that echoed the inner chaos he couldn't quite contain. the sting of alcohol just added to the jumble of thoughts, like mixing a cocktail of emotions he wasn't prepared to deal with. 

sae had never been great with handling drinks, and here he was, wearing his heart on his sleeve, a little more vulnerable than he’d intended. 

after all, a body so foreign to alcohol can only handle so much.

and it's ironic how that also applies to sae's acceptance of your love – like a liquor he's not used to, but still very much would like a taste.

he knew he had absolutely no right to show up here; he had no right to stop you from going out with another man; he had no right to claim a part of you, not after he shattered your heart because he was afraid of his own.

he knew that, but itoshi sae is selfish. he wanted you, terrifyingly so. he hoped — prayed, even—no one will ever have you the same way he does. 

and he meant that in the most selfish way possible. because, time and time again, itoshi sae was selfish, even more so when it came to loving you.

“it terrifies me,” he carried on, a touch firmer this time, his gaze unyielding as it held yours, “how much you consume me, and it frightens me even more how much i would let you.”

“then just let me, you stupid asshole.” 

the words burst out of you, a declaration that felt like a leap of faith. your arms instinctively reached out, embracing him as if to underscore your determination. you had caught his confession like a lifeline, and now it was your turn to throw your heart into the mix.

“and you have all the damn rights to me too,” you murmured against his lips.

the truth is, he doesn't deserve you, not in the slightest. but god, you want him to— so bad. and after hearing what he said, you knew he wanted the same thing too.

you wrap your arms tighter around him, and it's like fitting together two missing pieces. you missed this, missed him. no amount of trying will ever relieve the longing. because truth be told, hearts aren't great at playing hide and seek; that much can be seen from the way you’re both holding on to each other.

“i'll love you slowly, until it's not scary, until you get used to it,” you whispered, forehead pressed against his.

in the quiet space between your whispered words, sae felt the world shift beneath his feet. 

love with you wasn't meant to be frightening. love with you wasn't meant to be all-consuming.

love with you, he realized, only needed to be exactly like this— your fingers against his nape, a smile curving your lips, and the assurance in your gaze that promised better times ahead.

“i’ll get used to it.” maybe the words came off wobbly, but he couldn’t care any less now; it was a promise.

“you better.” you let out a chuckle, genuine this time, and it took just one chuckle for sae to realize that everything will be just fine. 

[extra]:

“sae?”

you pull his attention, sensing his wakefulness from the lingering kisses he peppers on your skin. the same man who laid bare his heart to you was sprawled within your sheets, his breathing gentle against your neck.

though his lips stay sealed, the comforting squeeze of your hand relays that he was listening.

“where did you hear that i’m going out with oliver?”

a brief pause, followed by a scoff. way to ruin a moment, sae’s inner voice grumbles at the timing of your question. why bring up another guy's name now, especially when he's shirtless and right above you? the nerve.

“doesn’t matter.” he dismisses your question. 

yet, there's something oddly satisfying about riling up the usually composed sae, it’s one of your life’s greatest pleasures. and so, you press on, unable to resist the urge to tease. 

“come on, now. i want to know what made my cold and grumpy sae to show up at my door at 2 am, professing that i terrify him,” you pushed, meeting his irritated glare with an arched brow. “— and don’t give me that look. those were your words, not mine!”

tch. he clicks his tongue, fully aware you won't let him live down his confession. “got it from shidou. he told me right before asking me to drink with him.”

as those words escape sae’s lips, you burst into laughter, leaving him to wonder if he broke you with last night's late-night affection.

“what’s so funny?” he raises an eyebrow at your sudden outburst.

“shidou tricked you into drinking with him, love. i turned down oliver without a second thought. we didn't even get close to going on a date,” you playfully reveal, your grin growing. “i kind of mentioned that to shidou. we share gossip occasionally, you know.”

sae froze at what you said, and he didn’t need no damn mirror to see that he was turning red from the embarrassment and realization that he had been lured to drink.

“i’ll kill him.”

“and i’ll thank him.” may shidou get all the dopamine he so cunningly desires. 

note. i also don't know what this is so don't look at me now :P i'm throwing tomatoes at myself

[perpetual-stories]

Eight Strategies for Improving Dialogue in Your Writing

Well, hi! Oh my… wow! It’s been a long time since I’ve posted! I’ve been very busy and I am genuinely sorry to all my followers, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about this account, but here is one final post for the year!

Hopefully next year I become consistent with it again!

Let’s begin!

One of the best ways to help a reader connect with your writing is by crafting excellent dialogue. Use these tips to learn how to write dialogue that showcases character development, defines your characters’ voices, and hooks readers.

Why Use Dialogue?

Good dialogue performs all sorts of functions in fiction writing. It defines your characters’ voices, establishes their speech patterns, exposes the inner emotions, and showcases their character development. Beyond mere characterization, effective dialogue can also establish the setting and time period of your story and reveal information in a way that doesn’t feel overly expository.

Authors use lines of dialogue to reveal a character’s personality and express their point of view. For instance, an archetypal football coach might speak in short, terse sentences peppered with exclamation points and quotations from famous war generals. By contrast, a nebbish lover with a broken heart might drone on endlessly to his therapist or best friend, speaking in run-on sentences that circle around his true motivations. When an author can reveal character traits through dialogue, it cuts down on exposition and makes a story flow briskly.

Eight Writing Tips for Improving Dialogue

The first time you write dialogue, you may find it quite difficult to replicate the patterns of normal speech. This can be compounded by the concurrent challenges of finding your own voice and telling a great story overall. Even bestselling authors can get stuck on how a particular character says a particular line of dialogue. With practice and hard work, however, lackluster dialogue can be elevated to great dialogue.

Here are some strategies for improving the dialogue in your own work:

Mimic the voices of people in your own life. Perhaps you’ve created a physician character with the same vocal inflections as your mother. Perhaps your hero soldier talks just like your old volleyball coach. If you want to ensure that your dialogue sounds the way real people speak, there’s no better resource than the real life people in your everyday world.

Mix dialogue with narration. Long runs of dialogue can dislodge a reader from the action of a scene. As your characters talk, interpolate some descriptions of their physical postures or other activity taking place in the room. This mimics the real-world experience of listening to someone speaking while simultaneously taking in visual and olfactory stimuli.

Give your main character a secret. Sometimes a line of dialogue is most notable for what it withholds. Even if your audience doesn’t realize it, you can build dynamic three-dimensionality by having your character withhold a key bit of information from their speech. For instance, you may draft a scene in which a museum curator speaks to an artist about how she wants her work displayed—but what the curator isn’t saying out loud is that she’s in love with the artist. You can use that secret to embed layers of tension into the character’s spoken phrases.

Use a layperson character to clarify technical language. When you need dialogue to convey technical information in approachable terms, split the conversation between two people. Have one character be an expert and one character be uninformed. The expert character can speak at a technical level, and the uninformed one can stop them, asking questions for clarification. Your readers will appreciate it.

Use authentic shorthand. Does your character call a gun a “piece” or a “Glock”? Whatever it is, be authentic and consistent in how your characters speak. If they all sound the same, your dialogue needs another pass.

Look to great examples of dialogue for inspiration. If you're looking for a dialogue example in the realm of novels or short stories, consider reading the great books written by Mark Twain, Judy Blume, or Toni Morrison. Within the world of screenwriting, Aaron Sorkin is renowned for his use of dialogue.

Ensure that you’re punctuating your dialogue properly. Remember that question marks and exclamation points go inside quotation marks. Enclose dialogue in double quotation marks and use single quotation marks when a character quotes another character within their dialogue. Knowing how to punctuate dialogue properly can ensure that your reader stays immersed in the story.

Use dialogue tags that are evocative. Repeating the word “said” over and over can make for dull writing and miss out on opportunities for added expressiveness. Consider replacing the word “said” with a more descriptive verb.

[rieriel]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐄

「content」 1.6k+ wc, fem!reader, reader wears heels, established relationship, cunnilingus, edging, praise, fingering, pet names, just satoru putting your heels on 🎀

☆ in which: gojo satoru isn't above kneeling if it means getting to taste you

You should have known it was a bad idea to let Satoru stay in the same room while you got ready for your weekly date nights.

And you should have known that by now, the only thing you're getting ready for is to unravel beneath him.

The man in question is seated on your shared bed, legs invitingly apart, elbows resting on each knee. He watches every step you make, from applying glitters to your eyelids to finally putting on jewelry as the finishing touch. With all the years you’re together, Satoru isn’t particularly ashamed to admit how this is one of the many things he likes doing with you. Shockingly, it’s also one of the few things that could make him go quiet.

He just sits there and watches you, without uttering a single word. To anyone who knows him, that’s as bizarre as cows flying around.

You're ready to go, but the sudden presence of a warm body looming behind you suggests otherwise.

“Satoru,” you warn, feeling his large hands holding you by the hips, his long fingers tracing patterns across the fabric of your dress.

“You look so good in this dress,” he breathes into your ear, “Can we not go, baby, please? Want you all for m’self.”

“I'm all yours,” you affirm, a soft smile playing on your lips from a rather devious idea you thought of.

Earning a satisfied hum of response from the white-haired, you turn around to face him, halting his indulgence of littering featherlight kisses in your nape down to your exposed shoulders.

You place your hands on his neck, chest against his own, and murmured in his lips, “But after we go to this restaurant, please? I’ve been wanting to go there, baby.”

Ah, you used it against him—the pet name and the pleading eyes.

You know better than anyone that he can never say no to that. It's all it takes for your lover to do your bidding in a heartbeat, because it’s no secret how much he was a goner for you. He lets everyone know that as clear as day, anyway. 

“Fine,” he pouts.

Beaming, you plant a peck on his lips, and before Satoru can chase your lips with his own, you release him to turn once again to your vanity mirror.

“Oh, by the way, can you get my black heels for me?”

“The ones I like?” Even with your back turned, you can practically see the bashful smile playing on his lips from his chirped voice.

“Yup. That one, baby.”

Without a minute passing by, Satoru again appears behind you, holding a pair of black stilettos in one hand. You're just about to grab them from him when he raises them above your reach.

“We’re going to be late, Toru.”

“We won’t,” he assures, a boyish grin materializing on his lips. And god, he is so unbelievably handsome in his crisp suit— you're starting to regret insisting on going out now.

“Let me?” he asks, head slightly tilting to the side.

“The straps could be tricky…” you trail off. Satoru doesn’t respond, but he holds your gaze before slowly going down on both knees.

All while still not breaking eye contact with you.

You know what he’s trying, and Satoru knows perfectly well it’s working.

Satoru places the heels in front of your feet and holds your left calf to slide on the left pair. Your dress rises at the slight raise of your leg, making your breath hitch at the sensation of his warm breath grazing your exposed inner thigh.

The sound of your reaction is everything he needed to make the two of you late on that dinner reservation.

As he finishes putting both straps of the heels, you wait for him to stand– your intentions clear on staking claim on his lips as payback. But all expectations were replaced with arousal building up on your center as Satoru nuzzles his nose closer to your navel, sinking inch by inch in height to reach what’s down below.

“You smell so good, baby…” he mumbles, “Let me taste you, baby, please. It will be just a taste, I promise…” you could hardly make out what he’s saying from how muffled his voice is because of how close he’s pressing his face to your front, taking your scent and letting it consume him.

The strongest— on his knees, begging just for a taste. What a sight to behold, truly.

“T-Toru,” you stuttered, “Just a taste,” you gave in, echoing his needs.

All hell breaks loose for Satoru the moment those words escape your lips. He took one more glance from your pretty flushed face down to your feet, taking his time to marvel at you. He loves you in dresses like these— short and easy to access. Not to mention how divine it hugs your tits.

His left hand, once resting in your leg, started making its way to lift the hem of your dress— enough to expose your lace panties that weren't covering much to begin with.

Oh, heavens, pray heed of his greed because there was no getting enough of you. Knowing that you wore this intentionally just for him made his cock throb and his pants to tighten. 

You let out a gasp when your lover started drawing circles on your clothed pussy, going far beyond slowly sliding his index finger back and forth in between your legs, teasing you.

“Satoru,” you hiss, “Do not tease me.”

“But you’re so wet, princess…” he hums before sliding his long finger at your arousal, “All of it for me?”

“Yes —yes, all of it, ‘s for you, toru.”

“Damn right it’s for me. This pussy is f’ me— made just for me.” 

Familiar fingers looped around the waist of your panties, gently pulling it down your knees.

Even though you’re wearing a four-inch stiletto, his face was now perfectly leveled with your pussy. And just before you prepare yourself for what he intends to, Satoru leans in to plant a wet kiss before hungrily delving his tongue in your folds making knees buckle in pleasure.

“Oh, dear god— there, keep me there..” you whimpered. He put one hand behind your right knee for support. Fingers gently tapping against your knees, as if asking you to look at him as he sloppily eats you out. 

“S-Satoru—” 

“Satoru? Oh, I thought I was dear god, baby,” he teases, smirk evident in his voice.

Satoru looked up, tongue still deep in your clit, to gaze at you. He couldn’t help but swallow hard upon seeing how you were slightly gaping with your eyes shut, obviously blissed out. Fuck, you look so pretty.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he whispered, every breath of his words fanning against your flesh, making you shiver. “Watch how good I make you feel.”

He waits for you to look at him before flicking his tongue at your wetness— the action making you instinctively grip on his white mop of hair. Satoru felt your hands aimlessly guiding his head to lap more at your cunt. 

More, more, more— you need him badly. Needy, you grind your hips against his face, strong jaw touching the sides of your inner thighs. 

Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand, he knows you’re close— so he stops, licking his lips to clean your sweetness that’s almost dripping down his chin.

“Don’t stop, toru. I– I’m close, please. Please–”

“Shhh— I know, baby. I know,” he chuckles, “Would you be a good girl and do something f’me, baby? It’s for you, I promise.”

“Anything… anything! Just please…” you plead, almost tearing. So close, you’re so close. 

Satoru was on his knees, but it felt more like you were the one at his very mercy. Every touch, every sigh, pushed you closer to the edge, the brink of a pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable.

“Put your leg on my shoulder and stand firmer. Can my pretty girl do that for me, hm?”

“I can’t, toru– too weak for it..”

“You can and you will, baby,” he interrupts your whine. 

You did as he told, and lay one of your legs over his shoulder as your other stood firmer in heels. You felt one of Satoru’s hands snaking up to your ass, holding you in place.

“See? now, that’s a good girl,” he cooed at you. Deciding you deserve a treat for your obedience, he slides two fingers in your clit– pumping them in and out while his tongue does wonders circling your cunt.

A loud moan escaped your lips, involuntary, as desire pulsed through you. Dazed and breathless, you look down at your lover only to be met with his clear sky eyes looking up at you. His eyes, dilated with need and want— all at once, revealed a hunger you know you will be paying for to satisfy.

“Tell me, baby” he dared, “should I cancel our reservation?”

The only answer Satoru got from his pretty girlfriend was her loud mewls, heavy breaths, and the shivering of hips against his hold. Your cum dripping from your clit straight to his mouth.

That’s better than a yes, he chuckles in thought.

“Yeah. I thought so, too, pretty girl,” he licks his lips before carrying you to bed to continue where you left off.

『 ↳✧･ﾟ minimal proofread! :>

[theship-thewalrus]

Avoidance || Benedict Bridgerton

benedict bridgerton x reader

secrets are uncovered as you confront Benedict about avoiding you

word count: 848 words reading time: about 4 minutes warnings: none

It had been some time since you had seen or heard anything from Benedict. Considering you believed the pair of you were relatively close this sudden cold shoulder surprised you. What could cause this sudden change in demeanour? Had you done something? Said something? You could not stop the thousands of possibilities of what you might have done to flood your head.

You had given him space for some time, in the hopes whatever it was would pass and you both may return to normal. But it seemed time had not wavered the cold shoulder you received. Thus, in an attempt to find an answer to your burning question, you confronted the man. No longer would you wait for him to come to you.

"Benedict, wait."

Finding in the crowd of a ball you attempted to confront the man. You deserved an explanation for his actions. No longer being able to live in the dark. Yet, it seemed Benedict was not ready to talk to you. The man weaved through various people that danced or talked. In the word of people, you were determined not to lose him. Twisting through the small gaps between people you followed the man, keeping an eye on where he was walking.

It was not long until you followed him out into the night. The cool air nipped at your exposed skin, forming goose bumps on the skin. Though this cold air would not deter you from your mission. You had set your mind to this and you would not see yourself backing down.

"Benedict, please, just tell me what I can do to make this right."

Your voice was pleading as it carried in the wind as you remained a few paces behind him. Benedict simply strung you along to where ever he desired to go. It was deep in the gardens that Benedict finally decided to stop this little game of chase. Between large hedges, trees and flowers. The sound of the music inside was now fair behind you both, only the faint tune of the trumpet could be heard.

The large moon above you both was the only light that was provided for this meeting in the dark. For a moment you worried about what others would think if they were to stumble across you both. At night. Uncharpored. Alone. You would be ruined. There was so much on the line for you to simply try to get a few words from Benedict and it angered you.

"Tell me what I have done. Please. I can make this right, I swear it. Why have you been avoiding me?"

Your voice was louder than you expected. It shocked you when Benedict whipped around to face you, having half expected the man to simply pretend you were not here. He seemed conflicted. His eyes held an inner struggle. Reaching out like one would a wounded animal, you took Benedict's hand in your own. Carefully running your thumb over his knuckles.

"Speak to me, please" "You have done no wrong. It is I that has wronged you."

His response shocked you. To your knowledge, he had not done anything that could grant you to be upset with him. Was this truly all about something he believed he had done to upset you? It seemed so stupid.

"You have not done anything. I do not understand. Stop being foolish, I-" “Every time I see you, all I can think about is kissing you and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

The words that came from Benedict were rushed and strung together. It took a moment for your brain to process what he said as words and then another moment to truly understand those words. Kissing? You? His face was flushed, eyes not daring to meet yours. He has had many flings in the past, all of which he had the confidence of a King. But it was different with you. He did not hold lust in his heart like he did them, but he held love. A pure unfiltered love, that he only carried for you.

"I do not understand? That is why you have been avoiding me? Leaving my letters unanswered? Because you desire to kiss me?"

There was a beat of silence as Benedict struggled to form the words in his mind. You allowed him time to think, and your hand gave him a gentle squeeze.

"It is more than that... I... My.... My mind is completely entrapped by you. Every waking moment I spend thinking of you. Your smile. Your laugh. Your eyes. You have consumed utterly consumed me." "Oh, Benedict..."

Your voice trails up as you inch closer to him. A hand reached to caress his cheek as your soft lips connect with his. You felt his hand wrap around your waist, holding you as though you may slip away. He needed to know you were real and this was not all just a fantasy he had conjured up in his mind. But you were real, this was real, and he could not be more ecstatic.

[stqrgirlie0]

⋆✮theodore nott-pt 4✮⋆

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

you were running out of concealer, and it was showing. the purplish blue bruise less inconspicuous than the day before. theo had no chill when it came to hickeys- even though you guys weren’t official yet, he saw no problem in marking you his. one could say it just happens in the moment, and honestly why would anyone blame him- especially when he had you pressed up against the wall, head tilted back, mouth parted open, eyes closed and your neck and collarbone exposed. he just can't help himself.

it was becoming a daily routine, everyday right after last period you'd walk past the same empty classroom and everyday you'd hear someone whisper your name from behind the door. not very long after you'd be unbuttoning theo's shirt while he picked you up and sat you onto a desk. your fingers would tangle between theo's fluffy curls while his lips littered kisses and hickeys. soft pants from the both of you filled the air, and your were more than glad that theo did his little magic and muffled the room's noise to the outside. the sound of theo ripping your tights made you gasp out loud as you gave theo a light smack on his shoulder, while he muttered a 'i'll buy you new ones.’ soft kisses planted into your inner thighs and as soon as he was on his knees, he got down to business- ate you out like he didn't have breakfast in the morning. euphoric- that's how you felt every single time this man was on his knees, stars were starting to form in your vision. squeezing your eyes shut, fingers gripping his hair and the edge of the desk, you reached your climax and theo was all over you again, fervent kisses with teeth clashing and soft giggles in between.

obviously you guys hadn't been caught yet, but even if you did, i doubt that it would stop the two of you. this whole thing between you and theo hadn't been out in the open yet, so every moment between you two in front of the group was seen as an interaction between two "friends". it wasn't the best thing however it wasn't the worst. the thrill of getting caught and no one knowing egged on both of your antics, but not being able to grab theo and kiss him in front of the girls that cannot keep their eyes off of him, took a lot off self control. then again having this little secret meant that no one could have a problem with it- what they didn't know couldn't hurt them right?

unsettling thoughts would cross your mind so frequently, that you found yourself asking the question 'what are we?’. not dating but talking, talking but not progressing- what the hell was going on. you wanted it to work out you really did, so why didn't he just ask you out? and just like that your wish was granted- be careful what you wish for tho.. it was romantic you'll admit it- the candle, the flowers, the chocolates, the black lake glistening in the moonlight and the warm breezy air blowing your hair. it was literally a scene out of a romcom and you felt like you would literally MELT for the man right then and there. everything was perfect- so why was there still this iffy feeling? i'll tell you why- despite all of this lovey dovey, will-you-be-my-girlfriend stuff, our man Mr Theodore Nott asked to STILL keep it a secret. now why on gods green earth would he ask that? obviously you wouldn’t let this ruin you mood, you were on cloud nine girl!! but that bridge was fast approaching, and you were gon have to cross it at some point.

months pass by, and you've both still kept it a secret, but boy has it taken a toll on your side. keeping secrets, lying, it's never been your thing and you hate doing it to the people you love and care about. was it all worth it, was it worth the lack of energy and excitement? your secret link ups with theo got more frequent over time obviously- and maybe it was just because your friends just didn't hang out with you because you'd always run off, to him, for him. your lack of energy doesn't go unnoticed, and obviously it's brought up. just not in the nicest way. you're accused of not putting any effort into the relationship, and this sets you off-you see literal red.

‘i don’t know what you’re talking about theo.’ you sigh, standing up.

‘i’m talking about the 0 effort you put into our relationship,’ he says pacing across his dorm room and rubbing his temple. ‘every time we get time alone it’s like as if you can’t wait to fucking go back to your friends or some shit, what the fuck is going on.’

‘what’s going on? what’s going on?’ you seethe, walking right up to him. ‘i’ll tell you what’s going on. it’s that i can’t take this fucking secret thing further. there i said it, i CANT do it.‘ you wave your hands up in surrender.

‘so what, that’s it?’

‘i don’t know, do you want it like that? theo we can’t even talk until we’re behind closed doors, it’s like we’re trapped. you say i put no energy and effort into this, but maybe it’s because i use it all up lying and making excuses for us. it’s not working out..’

the argument only ended with tears and slammed doors. nights that you used to smoke with theo on, turned into nights you sat by yourself, leaning your head against the window, accompanied by only your thoughts. every day going to lessons and acting normal was truly a test, especially when theo would still catch you with his longing eyes across the room. it was so hard but you couldn’t give up, you owed yourself at least that much. your heart yearned for the boy, for the way he would brush your hair out of your face, for the way he would look at you- like you were the prettiest girl in the world, for the way he’d play with your hands every time you slept. it was getting harder and harder by the day, and theo wasn’t finding it any easier. he also longed for how your fingers would play with his hair, for how your nails would scratch down his back. so it wasn’t long before the both of you snapped, and there you guys were making out in the corner of the empty corridor. your top two buttons undone and theo’s hands firmly planted at the sides of your waist, lifting your shirt up a bit as his fingers pressed into your skin. you felt his lips slowly travelling to the middle of your neck, your head leaning back against the wall to allow him as much skin as you could. his lips trailed back up again, finding your jawline as he pressed kisses along. the scene caused the majority of the students walking by, to avert their eyes and fasten their pace down the corridor.

i think it’s pretty much official now.

#i think pt 4’s come to a natural ending.. right.. #id like to confirm that there will not be a pt 5 xoxo #because i genuinely would not know what to write, but hopefully you guys enjoyed the (very unplanned) series♡ #lots of love xoxo

taglist: @iamgayforyourmom1510 @lovelyygirl8

[nico-di-genova]

6: “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Or

46: “Tell me a secret.”

- or any of the ones that inspire lestappen pretty please 🤞😘🥰

6. "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?" WARNINGS: NSFW, like in every sense of the word

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed,” Max asks nonchalantly as he’s kicking off his shoes, one hand balanced against the wall above the light switch, the other on his hip.

“Besides the obvious I mean.”

Behind him, Charles shifts against the sheets, rolls onto his back and props his elbows up behind him so he can sit up and cast Max an annoyed look.

“I cannot be romantic? I thought you liked my ass, non?”

Max shrugs, “Of course I do, just wondering why it’s out in my bed at three in the afternoon.”

Charles pouts, sticks his bottom lip out, like he is offended his ass is not being better received. Max laughs, leans down to kiss the petulant look off Charles’ face before pulling away and resuming stripping languidly, pulling his bomber jacket off his shoulders like he has all the time in the world.

Charles makes an affronted sound, “Our bed.”

Max feels something flutter in his stomach, smiles in acknowledgement, “Yes, okay. Our bed. That you are naked in at three in the afternoon – with the curtains open.”

Max’s apartment, their home, sits high above the street. A penthouse that costs him too much for how little time they spend in it. He’s not really worried about the neighbors. He just likes to see the way Charles’ annoyance deepens, the press of his lips into a thin line and eyes that flash with obvious irritation.

“I am surprising you.”

“I do not like surprises.”

“I think you will like this one.”

The flight from Milton Keynes to Nice had been exhausting, but Max wasn’t tired enough to miss the obvious teasing, the goading as Charles’ voice lilts heavy with want. He also wasn’t tired enough to deny himself the simple pleasure of his boyfriend’s cock in his mouth.

He drops to his knees at the foot of the bed, hands grabbing Charles thighs until he’s got enough grip to pull the man to him. Until he’s close enough that Max can press a chaste kiss to the side of his knee, his inner thigh where his thumbprint is still fading, working his way upward as Charles’ breath stutters in his throat, somehow obscenely loud in the quiet of the space.

“So is this how you want to spend all of summer break?” Max asks, pausing his exploration of Charles’ body, but not pulling away. His breath is warm against Charles’ skin, the promise of something more with enough edge to make Charles a little crazy with the thought of it.

Teasing him is so fun, maybe the best part of being able to have the man at all. Yeah, the sex is great, but the way he can take Charles apart simply by picking at the exposed parts of him, that’s orgasmic on its own. Charles sounds so pretty when he whines, Max thinks it is probably his favorite noise.

“Because I’m not against it, Charlie. Keeping you here, spread out for me.”

Charles keens.

Max knows if he looked now he’d see a blush spreading across the Monégasque’s cheeks. Instead, he presses his lips back to the soft flesh of Charles thigh, kisses him innocently, and then bites.

Charles jerks beneath him, a startled cry filling the empty space of the room. It is Max’s firm hands on his thighs that hold him down onto the mattress.

“You- you are a menace.”

Max laughs, “You started it.” He licks the spot where Charles’ skin is already turning an irritated red, like an apology.

One of Charles’ hands finds its way into Max’s hair, scratching lightly along the scalp. Max chases the feeling until he’s shifted upward, his attention pulled to Charles’ dick dripping precum against his stomach. His stomach that’s already wet with a significant amount of it.

Max chokes a little on his own spit.

“How long have you been like this, baby?”

He pictures Charles hard and leaking while Max had his final debrief with the team before the official start of break. Pictures Charles whining for him while Max was sipping ginger ale from first class. Not coming, or touching himself, because Max knows what the aftereffects of an orgasm looks like on Charles and none of the signs are there.

“Too long,” Charles whines.

Max glances up at him, finally takes in the flush of his cheeks and his bitten raw lips. The way his pupils are blown wide already, before Max has even touched him.

“Please,” Charles begs.

Max admires his resolve, because he nearly comes in his jeans just from hearing Charles plead. Instead, he takes Charles’ dick in his hand and licks precum from the tip like an apology, while Charles tenses and a cry of relief spills out of him.

It’s a cry that only grows in volume when Max sucks Charles into his mouth and swallows down to the root.

“Fuck.”

Charles’ hand in his hair pulls, instinctively, unthinkingly, until Max can feel the sting of follicle being threatened to be pulled from root. Charles’ fingernails are pinpricks against his scalp. Max presses his tongue to the underside of Charles’ cock, the vein there, just to make Charles pull harder.

“Fuck. Merde. Fuck.”

Max wonders if Italy knows he has their golden boy spewing profanities like water from a fountain. Wonders if the Tifosi realize he can take their predestined apart with just his tongue and a barely there touch of his teeth to Charles’ cock. The empty threat of pain that will never be fulfilled. He wonders if they are jealous, hopes they are.

“Max, Max.”

Max is not a religious man, but he does love to worship at the altar of Charles, so maybe he is not that different from the Italian men to begin with. Charles pants his name and Max thinks it is probably the closest he will get to heaven.

Through his lashes, he glances up at Charles, reverence and adoration written across his features. Charles’ hips stutter off the mattress, his own gaze heavy and hazy when he looks down at Max with open love. Max wants to drown in him. The taste of him, the scent of him, wants to choke himself on the length of Charles’ cock until there is nothing left.

“Unh, I’m-,” Charles cries, before the words get stuck in his throat and he’s gasping out another high whine. His head falls back to expose the long column of his neck. Max is going to leave marks there later, plot out a course to Charles’ mouth simply because he can.

He’s close.

Max pulls off just enough to lick spit and precum from Charles’ slit before sucking back down and letting Charles thrust up into the warmth of his mouth. There is familiarity to it, like Charles is used to making a space for himself in Max’s throat.

He keeps one hand on Charles’ waist, the other splayed across the solid expanse of his abdomen so he can feel when Charles tenses. Charles’ skin is warm, sun-kissed tan against his palm, hot with the built-up need to release.

Max presses against his stomach, hollows out his cheeks, and makes a choked noise just so Charles will feel the hum of it. It sends him over the edge with a cry and Max’s name being gasped to the ceiling like a prayer. The hand in Max’s hair tightens to a fist, holds him down until the warm bitter taste of come stops hitting the back of his throat and Charles’ cock stops twitching in his mouth.

He does press his teeth there then, lightly, just to hear the hiss of oversensitivity from Charles’ lips.

When Charles falls back against the bed, he takes the sharp point of his nails against Max’s scalp with him. Max pulls off his softening dick and a bead of spit follows him. Charles watches through his lashes, until the string of saliva breaks, his lips already curling into a contented smile.

He reaches, lazy hand grabbing at the air, long fingers curling in the empty rays of dusty sunlight, and Max goes willingly.

“A nice surprise, then?” Charles mummers against his temple when they’re curled up together on the mattress. Charles is already running a teasing finger along the waistband of Max’s too tight jeans, dipping just below the denim with a promise.

Max hums, nods, swallows so he can taste Charles at the back of his throat.

“You should be naked in my bed more often, all the time maybe.”

Charles pinches the exposed skin at his hipbone and Max hisses.

“Our bed.”

Max turns his head, angles forward until he can kiss Charles with all the softness and vulnerability he can muster. He feels Charles smile against him.

“Our bed.”

[bobgasm]

oral technique | b.f

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x f!reader word count: 1348 warnings: smut, nsfw [18+ only], oral sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), bob’s a virgin in this

summary: in which you teach bob how to give head

author’s note:

oneshot | masterlist | ao3

You felt a warmth flourish in the pit of your stomach. “If you want to learn, I can always teach you.”

You lay across the couch, legs in Bob’s lap, a hand of his resting above your knee, the other draped over the back of the couch. A light dusting of colour tainted his cheeks as he looked towards you, embarrassed by what he’d just confessed, and what you’d just proposed. You felt your chest start to rise and fall rapidly, watching the internal conflict he was having with himself as he let his emotions show on his face. A frown turning into what could have been a smirk before he cleared his throat and composed himself.

You could only assume this was how he had been raised, internalizing any and all emotions. He was how men had been raised to be for decades, but slowly you were trying to teach him that he could tell you anything without any judgment. That you wouldn’t reveal to anyone his secrets or make fun of him. Talking to you was a safe space.

And tonight was one of those nights where you had acknowledged the feelings that you had towards each other. Flirting heavily and touching each other as frequently as possible. You can’t remember how you got onto the topic, but hearing that he’d never been down on a woman, let alone been with one, sent your mind into overdrive. There was so much you wanted to teach him, that you didn’t think twice about asking if he wanted to learn.

“I…like you’d give me pointers?” He asked, the hand he had resting on your leg subconsciously sliding further up.

“Like, I’d show you,” you replied, placing your hand over his and stopping it from moving. You wanted to make sure he was comfortable and there was no pressure for him to agree, and making sure his hand stopped where it did was vital. You were turned on and if he asked you innocent questions while his hands had a mind of their own, you’d be in a different situation.

“Show me on what?”

“Me.” The confusion on his face almost broke you. “I’d tell you what to do as you did it,” you elaborated and he nodded slowly.

“What would be the best position to…? What would give me a better angle?”

“If you got on the ground,” you said, your head spinning as he slid onto the floor and sat back on his knees, watching you spin around so that you were facing him. Your legs parted slightly. “God, are you sure, Bob?”

“I’m sure.” He looked up at you with lust-blown pupils. The intensity and sincerity of his eyes made you melt as he placed his hands on your knees and spread your legs so he could settle himself in between them.

You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your sweats and lifted your hips, only to have his hands replace your own as he removed your pants. His touch searing your skin and making you crave him even more. His hands made quick work of discarding your sweats as you scooted yourself forward so you were half off the couch, feeling so exposed as you set your feet on the ground, legs spread wide and your crotch level with his eyes.

“So do I just…go for it?” He asked and you released a nervous laugh.

“Kiss my thighs,” you instructed him. “You want to build up the anticipation. She’s already going to be wet and wanting you, but you want to tease her. Turn her into putty in your hands…or mouth.”

Bob kissed your thighs as instructed, but left quick pecks rather than sloppy kisses. He was clearly as nervous as you.

“Don’t be afraid to be sloppy,” you told him and he looked up at you, holding your gaze as he licked from your inner mid-thigh to hip. Tongue tantalizingly close to where you desperately wanted him. “Mm, yeah,” you encouraged breathily, running your fingers through his hair. “Most women don’t like visible hickeys, but it’ll drive her crazy if there are ones only she knows about. Like over her breast or hip.”

He got the hint and began nipping at your skin, sucking a bruise into your hip as you arched into his touch. Needing him to touch you more than he already was.

“Play with her while you tease her,” you said, unsure as to how you were still able to form coherent sentences. “Give her a finger to suck on or play with her breasts.”

You closed your eyes and felt a finger trace over your bottom lip. Your mouth opened instinctively as you welcomely sucked the digit. His mouth left sloppy kisses over your lower abdomen.

You moaned around his finger and grabbed his wrist, removing it from your mouth when it was nice and wet. Guiding his hand down between your thighs and teasing your clit with his finger.

“When you go down on a girl you always pay special attention to this little nub,” you said, opening your eyes as his mouth left your stomach. Finding his gaze where you were teasing yourself with his finger. “The clitoris will always be your best friend in pleasuring a woman.”

“I’m so fucking hard,” he cursed, barely speaking above a whisper.

“Good,” you said, groaning as he slipped his finger lower, barely able to restrain yourself from taking him into my warmth. Knowing his finger alone would feel good.

God, there had been nights where you had fantasized about what his hands could do to you, and now one of those fantasies was coming true. Even if you had to teach him.

“Bob.” you moaned. “Fuck, I need your mouth. Lick up my slit.”

You let go of his hand so you could guide his head to where you needed his mouth. Your hands wound tightly into his hair, legs struggling to stay open as you felt the heat of his tongue against your core. Your chest rising and falling rapidly as he tasted you and let a gloriously loud moan vibrate against your center.

“Oh, holy fuck,” you panted as his lips wrapped around your clit as he sucked gently. Your legs closed around his head, only to be forced open again by his strong hands.

You felt the scratch of his stubble against your inner thighs and threw your head back in bliss as he pressed a finger inside you. Your body welcomed the intrusion by bucking your hips against his mouth as his tongue lapped at your most sensitive spot.

“Mm–oh, god! Move your finger. In and out,” you struggled to say. “Make a hook out of it once you’re in. Pl–fuck–play with the spongy wall.”

Bob did as you said and you had no time to feel embarrassed about the sound that just came out of your mouth as he pressed another finger into your core and did just that. Fucking you with his mouth and fingers.

“Bob, yes. Bob!” You moaned, your high building as you held onto his head for dear life, your other hand roughly palming your breasts. “When a woman says she’s close, whatever you do, don’t you f–uh, fuck,– fucking dare change what you’re doing. Y-You want her to come, and trust me, it’s a glorious sight when she does. You’ll want to make her come all the time. Bob, fuck, I’m close.”

Bob hummed against you as you were pushed over the edge. This time he didn’t bother spreading your legs, he let them wrap tightly around his head as your hips rolled against his mouth and your thighs quivered. Your entire body convulsing as he coaxed your orgasm from you while you rode out your high. Continuing to taste you long after you had finished and still suffering from the aftershocks that he’d brought on.

“Fuck, that was…oh my god.” Bob chuckled as you smoothed your hand through his hair, a euphoric grin on your lips. “You taste so good.”

[runariya]

My Beloved Villain (JJK) • Chapter 3

pairing: hero!Jungkook x villain!female reader genre: dark romance, gore, villain!AU, hero!AU, slow burn fic rating: MDNI, 18+ warnings: attempted murd€r, foul language, detachment, inner conflicts bordering on schizophrenia, fluff, slow burn, please lmk if I forgot something word count: ~ 5.1K

a/n: okay, so here's the deal...I've successfully and irreversibly deleted 2k words of this chapter while editing *yey* And I'm not capable of writing it again, so this chapter's a little shorter than intended. Hope you're enjoying it despite its short length...here goes nothing...🥲

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to med school are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

prologue • 01 • 02 • masterlist • 04

The night around you feels charged as you move along the shadowed path, the whispers of Suyeomggang River just below the ridge line of trees. The moon hangs heavy and swollen in the sky, a pale sentinel casting a sickly cold light over the riverbank, water lapping against the railings with an almost lazy indifference, a black mirror that reflects the stars in shattered fragments. You can feel the cool breeze off the river, taste its dampness in the air, hear its calling darkness from its depth.

You’ve been preparing for this for years, it’s like tonight everything falls into place, as if everything is perfect, the night wrapping around you like an invisible cloak, the silence so deep it feels like a part of you, an extension of your being grasping in every direction. The training, the planning, the sleepless nights spent perfecting every detail—all of it has led you to this exact moment. You slip through the darkness underneath the canopy of overhanging trees, the leaves whispering above you as if they know what’s about to happen and are trying to keep the secret within themselves. Every step precise, measured, the ground beneath your feet making not a single sound as you follow the trail of Kim Sangwook, the first name on your kill list.

It had to be him. You chose him with the precision of a surgeon’s blade, the first man who laid his filthy, despicable hands on your mother. His crime, as well as Park Dojin’s and Kim Chulsoo’s, wasn’t just physical; it was spiritual, an affront to the very blood that runs through your veins, poisoning it to its DNA. 

For months, you’ve watched Sangwook, studied his habits, learning the cadence of his days not to avoid him, but to calculate his weaknesses. He’s arrogant, unafraid, too comfortable in his routines to second guess himself and his safety. You know exactly where he’ll be most vulnerable, and it’s here—this river trail, this desolate stretch of night where no one comes after the sun has set, where only the distant sound of the city and nature bears witness to what will transpire. 

You have been patient. You are always patient. And tonight will be no different. 

You’re dressed in black, a second skin tailored to your body, slim-fitting and functional, with hidden pockets for your shurikens and whip coiled at your side. You considered a face mask but knew better—too easy to lose in a fight. Instead, you’ve sewn yourself a sleek, fitted mask that covers only your cheeks and brow, leaving your mouth and nose exposed to breathe freely, knowing better than to weaken yourself. 

Ahead of you, Sangwook walks, oblivious. He’s whistling—a tuneless, off-key noise that grates against your nerves, but you force yourself to block it out. His pace is lazy, his stride confident. He doesn’t look behind him, doesn’t even suspect that he’s being watched. You follow him like a shadow, each of his steps mirrored by yours but cloaked in silence. The trail curves ahead, leading to a darker stretch where the trees thicken and the river slips out of view. You know this spot—it’s where he’ll be most isolated, most vulnerable.

The darkness inside you twists and writhes, a beast of malice that groans and growls, aching for the taste of blood, its hunger a throbbing force that drowns out any shred of gentleness that lives inside you, pushing it so far down that it might as well have never been there at all. There is nothing left within you now but cruelty, sharp and ruthless, devouring the softer parts of your soul, leaving behind only the savage desire to destroy, to break, to consume without mercy.

You crouch slightly, bending your knees as you brace yourself to pounce. Every muscle in your body is taut, ready to explode into motion with your command. You’re so close now, your fingers twitching with the anticipation of wrapping your whip around his throat, of pulling him into the shadows where he belongs and never will escape from. The moment stretches out before you, the world narrowing to just you and him, to this moment, to this beautiful, beautiful moment. 

But then—hands, strong and cold, seize you from behind, and your breath stutters. Your instincts scream danger, but you’re too late. Your body is wrenched backwards, your planned attack on Sangwook slipping through your fingers like air, as he continues his walk, unaware, disappearing into the black abyss of the night, saved by sheer dumb luck.

A grunt of frustration escapes your lips, but you push the sound away as you focus on the here and now. The arms around you are like steel bars, locking your movements, restricting you, but not for long. You twist your body violently, your elbow driving backwards into your captor's ribs with full force. The impact reverberates through your bones, but the man barely falters, tightening his grip even further. Your breath comes in short, sharp bursts as you struggle, thrashing against the strength that holds you, your heart racing by pure survival instinct. 

With a quick shift of your weight, you slam the heel of your combat boot down hard against his instep, and finally, you feel him flinch. It’s just enough. His grip loosens, and you slip free, stumbling forward but catching yourself before you fall to the ground. You whip around, panting silently, every muscle ready for the next strike.

Before you stands a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in black from head to toe, a black face mask covering the lower half of his face, his eyes squinting at you with angry intensity beneath the brim of a equally black cap. His chest heaves slightly from your brief struggle, but you can tell by his stance that he’s no amateur, even though his face mask tells a different story.

“Who the fuck are you?” you snap, your voice cutting through the night, sharp and impatient after your plan so gracefully failed. 

The man scoffs, clearly unimpressed by your question. "I’m Pulse," he replies, his voice low and gravelly, laced with arrogance. "And with whom do I have the pleasure?"

The name rings a bell, and your mind clicks—Pulse. You’ve heard of him before, the so-called ‘hero’ who stalks the streets of Busan, swooping in like some self-righteous crusader to save the day. A ridiculous figure, some holier-than-thou idiot who thinks he can make a difference in a world that’s long past saving. You can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes your lips, suppressing a role of your eyes. He’s nothing more than a man playing dress-up, chasing glory under the guise of justice.

“Stasis,” you say through a mocking smile full of teeth, your tone dripping with derision. The name you gave yourself and the one you call him are a joke, a reflection of the absurdity of this whole pointless situation and himself. “Nice to meet you, Dulls.”

His eyes narrow further above his mask, gaze burning into you with his wounded ego. He clearly wasn’t expecting to run into someone like you tonight, and so he takes a step closer, his voice steady but laced with warning you can’t seem to take serious at the slightest. "This isn't how you make the world better. You shouldn’t be hurting people."

You can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes your lips, can’t help but to keep mocking him. "You don’t say."

Silence falls between you as your words reach him, as if he’s weighing his next words carefully, shifting through his thoughts, unsure of what to say next. Meanwhile, the beast inside you bares its teeth, gnashing against the cage of your control, howling for blood, demanding that you kill him right here and now. But you force it down, force yourself to remember that there’s a time and place for slaughter, that not every impulse of it deserves to be fed, not every throat needs to be torn open—only those who’ve earned it. 

Pulse’s anger seems to dissolve into the night, slipping away like smoke, as if he’s sensed the monster stirring within you, as if he’s frying to soothe it with patience and understanding.

"I won’t hurt you."

Despite better judgement, you straighten at that, as Pulse’s voice carries a promise that you know better than to believe. It drips with false reassurance, and you’ve long since learned that such words are nothing but bait. You don’t trust him, won’t allow yourself to be lulled into a sense of security that clearly isn’t there. Instead, you begin to circle him to gain back the control he tried ripping out of your hands, testing the resolve behind his words, scanning him for weaknesses, pushing at the edges of his composure. 

He stands rooted to the ground, immovable, like a tree whose roots have burrowed deep beneath the earth while the silent dance of power shifting back and forth continues. His cap shadows over his eyes, but you can still feel the burn of his gaze, still feel him asserting you. He watches you with an intensity that you don’t need to see to know; it lingers on your skin, prickling violently in the danger that he is to you.

„What are you doing?“ he finally says, his voice as soft as the night wind.

There it is. That kindness. That unbearable warmth that radiates off him like heat from a furnace, the same warmth that makes you want to recoil. His question is laced with the assumption that you can be saved. He speaks to you as though you're redeemable, as if you're nothing more than a misunderstood soul. As if the rivers of blood on your hands could be washed away by words alone.

„What does it look like I’m doing?“ you let the question hang in the air, more for your own amusement than any real attempt at conversation.

As you keep circling him, you take in every detail. He’s fit, his posture straight and sure, radiating confidence without arrogance. He seems young—perhaps the same age as you, or a little older, but it’s hard to pin down. His body speaks of strength, of long-honed discipline, but what bothers you is the life in his eyes, the youthfulness that disgusts you. There’s something unbearably naive in the way they looked at you before he hid them behind his cap, something untouched by the darkness you’ve come to know so well. Innocence like that has no place in your world. It’s a weakness, a flaw, and yet… he wears it as if it’s armour, shielding him from the filth around him.

You search for cracks in that armour, scrutinising his stance, looking for even the slightest imbalance—a weight leaning to one side, a twitch of muscle, any tell that would betray a vulnerability. But there’s nothing. His body remains steady, a fortress devoid of weakness. He doesn’t flinch as you move, doesn’t tense, not even when you brush close enough to feel the heat radiating off his back’s skin. His breathing is even, his pulse—steady.

Your eyes land on the faint rise and fall of his carotid artery, barely visible beneath the skin of his neck. It beats in a slow, calm rhythm, betraying no sign of fear or anticipation. It unsettles you. Every instinct you have is honed to control, to find the weak points in others, to bend them to your will with a word or a glance. But with him, nothing breaks. Nothing shifts. He stands as though the world could crumble around him and he’d remain unscathed.

„You don’t have to do this. You can stop, Stasis. There’s still time to change.“

Your frustration grows, curling like cigarette smoke in your chest. You’ve played this game before, unraveling the minds of those who thought they could stand against you. It’s a dance you know well—watching them falter, unravel, as the fear begins to claw at their insides, instincts kicking in. But with him… it’s as if you’re circling a stone, lifeless and unaffected by the tempest you try to stir.

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t break. 

You tilt your head slightly, studying him as he turns his eyes to follow your figure for the first time. And you see, that he’s truly like this—believing in the good in people, believing that change is as simple as a choice, as though it’s something that can be made over tea, some crackers and kind words. You almost admire his naivety. Almost.

"Change?" you repeat, a thin smile curling at the corner of your lips. "You speak of change as though it’s some inevitable truth. Some law of nature." You stop a few feet before him, being wiser than to drain your energy by pacing around him. "But nature is indifferent, Dulls. Things end. People die. No amount of hope can alter that."

He looks at you with those eyes again—those damnable eyes filled with that persistent, maddening compassion. It's almost enough to make you laugh out loud again.

„That’s not true.“

You tilt your head, a smirk tugging at your lips. "You know that it’s only your god complex speaking out of you, right?"

"God complex?" he echoes, brows furrowed, disappearing behind his cap.

You ignore his question entirely, the words meaningless to you now after everything’s unraveled so spectacularly, your plans detonating in your face like fireworks that left nothing but failure in their wake. Without a second glance, you turn on your heel, your patience worn dangerously thin, dismissing him as you throw over your shoulder, “Don’t waste your time, buddy.”  

But he doesn’t let it go. “I know you’re not like this. I know there’s good in you, Stasis. You don’t have to be this person.”

You pause, something in his voice forcing you to stop, and with a soft, humourless laugh, you turn your head just enough to catch him in your peripheral, a shadow of a smile playing at your lips. “You still don’t get it, do you?” you murmur, the words laced with barely concealed disdain, with the cold, hard truth. “Some people are beyond saving.”

For a moment, he looks like he might argue. Like he might push harder, fight against the walls you’ve built around yourself. But then he stops. The tension in his shoulders eases, and he sighs, long and deep, as if the weight of the world presses down on him.

Without another word, you step back into the shadows, your figure melting into the darkness where it belongs. The moonlight barely touches you now, your body nothing more than a fleeting spectre in the night. You hear Pulse behind you, his footsteps hesitant, as if he’s debating whether or not to follow.

But he won’t.

You know he won’t.

Sitting at the small dining table in your shared dorm with Taehyung, the morning feels sluggish, lethargic in its stillness of early hours, sun barely peeking over the horizon just yet. Both of you and Taehyung eat breakfast—just some half-hearted cereal from the bottom of the box which expiration date you rather not learn, the crunch of each spoonful drowning out the low noise of a morning show called ‚Good Morning Busan‘ playing in the background. Taehyung, barely awake, eyes half-lidded and tired, mindlessly munches his way through his bowl while you absently stir your spoon through yours, your mind still circling the failure of the night before like you did to Pulse.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung grumbles through a mouthful of cereal, voice still thick with sleep, his curiosity nudging through the haze. “You came back pretty quick last night. Weren’t you successful?”

“No,” you reply with a dramatic sigh, your tone flat, biting back the frustration that’s been bubbling under your skin like boiling water since your plan failed miserably. “Got interrupted.”

He pauses mid-chew, eyes opening just a little more as he frowns. “By whom?”

“Pulse.” The name alone is enough to make your eyelid twitch with irritation. “That wannabe hero.”

A sleepy chuckle escapes him, the sound half-amused, half-groggy. “Wannabe hero?” Taehyung repeats, raising an eyebrow. “You sound pissed.”

“Of course I am,” you snap, the frustration rising to the surface again, until it spills over. “I’ve been planning this for months, Tae, and he just… ruins everything. Doesn’t he have anything better to do than patrol around to feed his ego?”

Taehyung snorts at that, choosing not to poke at the simmering frustration in your voice, knowing it’s better to let you vent than to fuel the fire. He knows you well enough by now to understand that there’s no point in trying to reason with you when you're like this, so he just lets you stew, quietly eating the rest of his cereal. 

The silence deepens once more after your short outburst, as you finish eating as well. With an irritated huff, you stand and shove your bowls into the dishwasher before grabbing your bag and shoes, preparing to head to class. Taehyung follows, equally silent, slipping on his shoes as you grab the remote to turn off the TV. But just as your finger hovers over the power button, something on the screen catches your attention, halting your finger mid-press.

It’s him. It’s Pulse. His face, or rather his eyes, open and earnest, fill the screen as he speaks to a reporter, full of the kind of naive kindness that makes your skin crawl. “It’s not about honour,” he says, voice calm and oh so friendly. “It’s just doing what I can to help the mayor and police and keep the city safe. Protect its people.”

His words grate against something inside you, that calm righteousness sparking your anger all over again. You want to scream, to throw the remote straight into the TV and smash his sanctimonious face, but all you can do is stand there, teeth grating violently against each other, and turn the TV off with an aggressive jab of the button, yeeting the remote right after somewhere onto the depths of the couch. Without a word, you push through the door, Taehyung trailing lazily behind you with his loafers worn like slippers, as you both step out into the cold morning air. The chill brushes against your face in an instant, cooling your burning blood, and helping to dull the force of your fury.

After a few moments of quiet, Taehyung breaks the silence with a low chuckle, fully awake now from the brisk air. “I take it back,” he smirks. “Didn’t realise Pulse was so chummy with the devil.”

“I told you,” you mutter darkly, still fuming faintly, “he’s just another egotistical nitwit who doesn’t even understand what he’s protecting. Doesn’t understand that he’s part of the problem.”

Taehyung hums in agreement, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “So, what are you gonna do about him?”

You sigh, the weight of the question sinking into you. For a moment, you think about just ignoring him, writing him off as a nuisance who managed to catch you off guard this once but won’t be an issue again. “I don’t know,” you say with a scoff, the frustration still clinging to your voice. “Maybe I’ll just ignore him. He caught me by luck, anyway. It’s not like I’ll see him again… either way, I need to focus on taking down Sangwook and the others.”

Taehyung only hums at that, but you can’t seem to slow down just yet.

You scoff again, shaking your head in disbelief. “Pulse.*What kind of a name is that? He should call himself Blip. Stupid moron.”

Taehyung bursts out laughing, the sound echoing through the empty street, probably waking everyone in the neighbourhood, and the absurdity of it all finally cracks a smile on your face, too. “You know, I called him ‘Dulls’ last night. Didn’t go over well.”

Your laughter rises to match his, tears collecting at the edges of your eyes as you share the only moment of triumph, your tension slowly easing away with every breath.

Just then, Jungkook jogs up to join you, his soft hair bouncing with each step, and he grins at the two of you as though he’s been part of the joke all along. His presence is like a fresh breeze cutting through the remnants of your irritation, lightening your mood even more.

“What’s up?” he asks, his voice bright and curious. “What’s so funny?”

“She’s bashing Pulse,” Taehyung responds, barely holding back his laughter.

Jungkook’s smile falters, his brow furrowing as his gaze shifts into mild disapproval. “Why?”

You shrug, your mood already too high from the shared humour. “I don’t like do-gooders who have no idea what they’re doing,” you explain simply, dismissively, hoping to steer the conversation away from the topic before it stirs more irritation.

But you catch the slight tick in Jungkook’s jaw out of the corner of your eye, that tiny tightening that tells you he doesn’t see things the way you do. He’s too kind, too gentle, to understand the cynicism you’ve earned through scars on your mind and body. He probably sees Pulse as some noble protector, someone fighting for justice, unaware of how useless that brand of idealism is in the face of real, disguised evil. Sensing the shift in his mood, you deftly change the subject, not wanting to get into an argument so early in the day. “So, do you think med ethics will be any less torturous this semester?”

Taehyung sighs dramatically, rubbing his face with a groan. “I’m just trying to get through it. If I can pass and collect my attendance points, that’ll be enough.”

Jungkook chuckles softly. „True,“ though there’s still a trace of unease in his eyes, his smile not quite reaching them. You all fall into a quiet rhythm as you walk, the campus and some students coming into view as the conversation shifts to lighter things. And when you finally reach the lecture hall, you immediately spot Yoongi and Hoseok seated in an empty row, deep in conversation. They acknowledge your arrival with a brief glance, uninterested in breaking their rhythm as the three of you head towards them. Taehyung leads the way, his eyes scanning the tables before stopping just short of sitting down, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Wait, where’s the coffee? Whose turn was it?”

Hoseok glances up, barely holding back a grin. “Jennie’s, but I think she’s late again.”

Just as you’re about to step into the row as well, hurried footsteps echo from behind. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see Jennie dashing around the professor, a tray of coffee in hand, nearly tripping over herself in her haste. Before you can fully process it, she’s yanking Jungkook back by his shirt, latter letting out a short yelp while she squeezes past the narrow gap between him and the tables, bulldozing her way through without much care. She brushes by you too, nearly crushing your thighs against the hard edges of the chairs, mumbling a half-hearted “sorry” that you know she doesn’t mean, before plopping herself down beside Taehyung with a satisfied grin. 

You exchange a bewildered look with Jungkook, his expression mirroring your own disbelief, while Taehyung, completely unfazed, is already deep in hushed conversation with Jennie, grinning like he’d been waiting for her all along. Yoongi and Hoseok lean over Taehyung to grab their coffees, neither of them paying any mind to personal space.

“Alright, if everyone could please sit down, we’ll begin,” the professor calls through the room, and you quickly slip into the seat beside Jennie, Jungkook sitting down right next to you still fixing his shirt’s collar. Both of you pull out your laptops in near-perfect synchronisation, and after handing Jungkook a coffee, you quietly sip your own as the lecture begins. 

It doesn’t take long into the lecture, when Jungkook nudges you softly with his elbow, a small, warm pressure that disrupts the stillness in your thoughts and concentration. You nudge him back, acknowledging his presence, though your gaze remains forward, fixed on the professor, though you're not really seeing him now.

Jungkook leans in slightly, his voice so low it barely reaches your ears. “You know, I’ve been thinking about yesterday… and I just wanted to let you know, it’s okay if you don’t want to date me or anything. Don’t feel pressured or anything like that…” His voice trails off into uncertainty.

For a moment, you're stunned, not having expected this. Your thoughts reel back to yesterday, to that quiet moment shared over coffee. It was one of the few times you’d felt at ease, like you belonged somewhere, even for a little while. Jungkook had made you feel… seen. Appreciated, even. There was something about the way you looked at each other, listened to each other, that made you feel like you weren’t just playing a part in someone else’s story, but actually living in your own. 

You realise then, that you long for such a connection. Long for a connection with him. You’ve denied it for so long, convinced yourself you didn’t need it, didn’t deserve it. How could you, after everything you’ve done and everything that you plan to do? Building something with Jungkook on a foundation of lies feels reckless, not fair even. How could you let him get closer, knowing he doesn't know the real you? No, not the real you, but a part of you. A part, that feels like poisoned soil where he tries to plant a garden. 

Yet, there's another voice inside you, quieter but insistent: Why should your dark side dictate your life, your future? Why shouldn’t you let yourself have this light, this chance to be happy? You aren’t made of shadow entirely, you never were, and something in you yearns for Jungkook like a flower aches for sunlight. What if—just even for a while—it doesn’t have to matter?

“I would love to go on a date with you,” you whisper softly, your voice barely louder than his, wanting to take the chance for once. You feel warmth blooming in your chest and cheeks, a rush of blood that you haven’t felt in so long, and you fight to keep a smile from overtaking your lips.

And despite the mutation that shields you from physical pain, the storm of emotions coursing through you is undeniable proof of you still being alive—an inescapable, aching force reminding you that you are not the hollow shell you sometimes wish to be, but simply a feeling human. Every emotion—fear, joy, longing—rattles through your bones like a sized twelve earthquake, shaking you down to the foundation. You realise, that with your agreement, the gates to the warmth has been pulled open completely, flooding your veins without mercy, though the warmth is something different, something brighter. It spreads slowly, like the glow of the sun rising after a long, brutal night. 

Love and hope, fragile and intoxicating, winds its way into the dark crevices of your being, a sensation you’ve craved for so long that its presence is almost overwhelming. It’s everything you lost, everything that was ripped from you when your childhood was robbed from you, leaving only jagged fragments of yourself behind. And now, against all odds, it’s here again—this feeling of belonging, of connection—and it fills the void that has festered within you for years. It is what you’ve longed for since the day your innocence was stolen, and though it terrifies you, it also makes you feel more alive than you have in years.

A disbelieving, but happy puff of air escapes Jungkook’s lips. “You mean that?” His words carry a hopeful surprise, as if he hadn’t truly expected you to say yes.

For a brief moment, evil, dark doubt creeps back in, whispering that you should push him away, that your darkness will only hurt him in the end. But then, another thought pushes through the shadows: maybe this is your chance to follow the light, to give yourself permission to feel something real, something good. And for once, you let that thought win. “Yes,” you murmur softly, surrendering to the happiness with a silent sigh.

Without a word, Jungkook’s hand finds yours where it rests on your thigh, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. The warmth of his touch settles you, like a calm wave washing over a restless shore. He draws your connected hands over to his thigh, letting them rest there, his thumb tracing slow, reassuring circles across the back of your hand. “We’ve got classes all day,” he murmurs, his voice light with excitement, “but do you want to go out tomorrow night?”

“That would be great,” you whisper, glancing at him briefly. The smile you’ve been fighting finally breaks free, curving your lips as a soft tenderness spreads through you.

Jungkook beams, his own smile bright and unguarded as he strokes your hand with his thumb. “Cool. Tomorrow it is,” he nods, his voice light with pure, innocent joy. “I’ll pick you up.”

And in that moment, you feel truly happy, in a way you haven’t allowed yourself to feel for years. It’s a strange feeling, both exhilarating and terrifying to its core, like standing on the edge of a cliff with your toes hanging over, unsure if the fall will break you or set you free. But it feels good. It feels right. It feels as though there might be a future for you after all—one not swallowed whole by despair and darkness. 

Yet even as you savour the warmth spreading through and around you, a small whisper of uncertainty lingers. You don’t know if you’ll regret this, if letting Jungkook into your life will end up being the worst mistake you’ve ever made. But for now, for this fleeting moment in your short life, as your fingers remain intertwined with his, you let it wrap around you, and allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s still some light left worth saving in you after all.

prologue • 01 • 02 • masterlist • 04

a/n 3: hope you've enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like!

a/n 4: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

All Rights Reserved © @/runariya 2024

taglist: @darkeneddiary, @dumbheadblog, @jksusawife, @jayhoneybeecomb, @kookienooki, @hagridshaircare 

[pinkkittysaw]

EVERYTHING IS ROMANTIC

*title inspired by charli xcx’s EVERYTHING IS ROMANTIC

summary: you’re craving mac and cheese

pairing: art donaldson x afab! reader (no pronouns used)

word count: 1,035

content: (i block minors + ageless blogs), fluff, established relationship, mentions of menstrual period, one suggestive comment, mentions of art’s (and presumed yours) in canon daughter, lily. reader is shorter than art

a/n: “in a place that can make you change, fall in love again and again, fall in love again and again.” back at it again with the period fluff and self indulgent fics. they just don’t make pathetic, loser, girldad, husband material like art donaldson anymore 😔 he’s soo interesting to me. i wish i could put him under a microscope and study him

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, the familiar ache beginning to pool in your lower abdomen. The word is barely registered in your mind before you've cursed at yourself again, though this time silently, hoping that your six-year-old daughter hasn't heard you from a few doors down.

Art's eyes dart over to where you’re sitting beside him on the couch as he takes a calculated sip from his water bottle. He leans forward to place it on the wooden coffee table in front of you, picking up the remote to pause the recording of his most recent tennis match that's been playing in the background.

He doesn’t need to ask any questions; he knows when something’s bothering you. He stills for a beat, waiting to see if you'll permit him into the inner workings of your mind. 

“I got my period,” you groan. It’s amazing that even after all this time, it still manages to sneak up on you.

Art scoots a bit closer to you, wrapping one arm around your waist, his left hand fitting snuggly at your lower back, his fingertips smoothing over the sliver of exposed skin in gentle circles, while his right hand scales up your leg.

A part of you recoils at how much you relish in his affection during your cycle, wishing you could forever hide behind the wall of indifference you've managed to build in the years of your marriage, but he knows as well as you do that you'll both bask yourselves in the saccharine tenderness for as long as you can.

A lopsided grin graces his features. “You can tell that sort of thing without having to check?” He asks in a low whisper, as if the two of you are sharing an intimate secret. His nose is so close to yours that you can almost feel his breath.

You indulge him just for a moment. A quick brush of skin against skin. His nose was always one of your favorite features.

“After this many years, you start to pick up on the signs," you murmur, a smirk of your own coming through.

You remove yourself from his hold, and although he doesn't outwardly protest, you catch the pout on his face in your peripheral vision.

“Do we have any mac and cheese?”

He gives a slightly perplexed look, tilting his head before answering. “We should have a box or two; I could always order in the fancy stuff.”

You shake your head in opposition before starting to move toward the kitchen when another cramp makes you grimace, unable to hide your discomfort. Art’s quickly by your side, his fingers brushing up and down your arm.

“You go freshen up and get comfortable. I’ll take care of the cooking." His eyebrows raise as he says this, like he's posing a question instead of making a statement. Requesting permission to access the vulnerability that’s always hidden away behind lock and key.

You nod softly, though somewhat reluctantly, and he presses a kiss on your forehead before shooing you off to the bathroom.

A short while later, after you’re freshly clean and moisturized, you pad down to the kitchen, dressed in your coziest pajamas.

All the lights are dimmed, and you notice that the living room has been set up with a heating pad, a fluffy blanket, your favorite movie, and a selection of special snacks that you set aside specifically for when you're having cravings. The sight tugs at your heart strings.

The sinking pit in your stomach doesn’t fully manifest until you reach the kitchen and see Art standing in the low light over the stove, stirring the macaroni noodles every so often. He’s wearing his pajamas now, too, having snuck up to the bedroom to change while you were still washing up. You make a mental note to compliment him later on how well his ass fills out the pale blue cotton.

An erray of seasonings line the countertop, ones that he knows you love to incorporate in almost every meal you make.

A wave of overwhelming heartache washes over you as you amble over to where he stands near the stove, slinking your arms around his slim waist, your cheek pressed against the softness of his t-shirt. He always smells like clean laundry, and this time is no different.

He skims the skin of your arm affectionately with the back of his knuckles. His wedding band is cold against you, giving you a slight shiver.

“Feeling better?” He asks.

“Mmm, a little,” you mumble against him.

He chuckles through his words. “I can get you some Tylenol if you need it. I already put Lily down for bed. After I’m done here, we can snuggle up and watch movies on the couch.”

Art moves to strain the noodles, and you move with him, waddling in time with his steps, which earns a slight giggle from him, not wanting to be separated for even a moment. He’s careful to angle the pot so none of the boiling water splashes back onto you.

You could try to rationalize your feelings, shrug them off, and blame your hormones for the uptick in the neediness you feel and the desire for his affection. But the truth is, you love him. You really love him. Which, duh! After all, you married him, but sometimes it's easier to act nonchalant than it is to allow yourself to be fully exposed to someone else.

As the two of you move back over to the stove again, with him adding the finishing touches to the mac and cheese, he beats you to the punch.

“I love you.”

Your face is still stuck to his back, hoping he doesn’t notice that by pressing yourself so far into the fabric of his shirt, you’re attempting to stop any tears from falling.

“I know." You smile against his skin, letting him in on the joke.

He snorts in response, shaking his head playfully as he gives a final stir to the noodles. You pull your face from his back, the cotton clinging to him from where your tears have inevitably soaked through. You rest your forehead against him before releasing a breathy, "I love you too."

[aemonds-sapphire]

Knowledge

Summary: You arrive at King’s Landing and Prince Aemond Targaryen shows you that some knowledge doesn’t come from books.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW. Bickering. Aegon being a cockblock.

A/N: I like to imagine that Aemond would feel this natural pull towards someone who takes an interest in books, so this is my attempt at exploring that. Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: The books mentioned are actual existing works in the universe GRRM has created: The Fires of the Freehold and A Caution for Young Girls.

Word count: 1.5k

The first thought that crossed your mind once your stepped foot inside the Red Keep was that illustrations and vague descriptions from visitors didn’t do it justice. It was most definitely a place fit for kings and queens, no doubt.

You had come with your mother and father as guests to King Viserys, but it had been Queen Alicent who greeted you upon arrival.

Aegon Targaryen was introduced first, promptly taking your hand in his with a dashing smile and planting a soft kiss to it, vaguely mumbling he was at your service should you require anything, earning a glare from his mother.

Next was Helaena Targaryen whose kind smile warmed your heart, but whose words took you by surprised when she asked if you had many spiders back home, earning a compassionate smile from her mother.

Last, but not least, was Aemond Targaryen who was ever observant and not quite inclined to introducing himself until his mother asked him to. Twice. Even then, it he uttered not a single word and merely bowed his head at you. His eyeptach was neatly kept in place over the eye he had once lost.

Queen Alicent had a fourth child who was away in Oldtown with the rest of the Hightowers, Daeron.

But as excited as your parents were, you yerned to wander the long corridors that held so many secrets and richness.

So by the time you exited the throne room, you told your parents you were out for a walk.

It wasn’t a lie.

You needed to see it.

Your inner child beamed in anticipation as you strode along the vast halls that led to your destination. Fortunately, your maester had provided you with the exact location.

Heart drumming fast, you halted before a closed door before taking a deep shaky breath.

You gripped the handle and pushed inside with ease.

And there it was.

Sitting atop a vast stone surface, that was framed by countless burning candles, lay the skull of Balerion.

Your eyes took in the overwhelming sight of such an imposing piece of history.

Reaching the edge of the stone slate, you felt the dense warmth that radiated from the candles, wax sliding down and hardening across the surface, creating beautiful and irregular sculptures.

Balerion’s skull was enormous. His teeth stood upright as sharp knives and you wondered how many had met their demise impaled on them.

“What are you doing here?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, immediately whipping around to see Aemond Targaryen standing a few feet away to your left, arms laced behind his back. “Prince Aemond,” you gasped, stepping away from Balerion’s skull. “I apologise… I… lost my way while trying to find my bedchambers.”

His face was hard to read and silent fell for a brief moment before he narrowed his exposed eye. “It is not wise to roam the castle halls by yourself.”

You nodded, bowing curtly. “Of course, my prince.”

Aemond gave you a long, penetrating look that made you feel extremely bare. “There are seveal trapdoors. You wouldn’t want to end up somewhere… unpleasant,” he drawled out that last word in a low tone.

“I apologise.”

“You do not have to,” he said. “You are our guest.”

His reassurance eased frantic beating of your heart and you felt your chest heave, as you allowed yourself to breathe freely once more.

Aemond Targaryen was undoubtedly intense. You reckoned he would have no trouble having men cower before him with little to no effort.

Tense moments rolled by and as neither of you were inclined to further the conversation, you shifted to face the dragon skull.

Just when you thought the two of you had settled for a comfortable silence, his soft voice was heard, “Balerion.”

“The black dread,” you added with a nod. “It is said that whenever he took flight his wings would swallow entire cities in shadow as he passed overhead,” you paused briefly to see Aemond sliding a hooded look at you. “His fire was as black as his scales and wings, burning so hot it’d turn sand to glass.”

Your passion for dragons and Old Valyria suddenly took over you like a tidal wave. There weren’t many people who’d share the same enthusiasm in discussing such topics, but you figured a Targaryen prince might.

Especially one who had claimed Vhagar. The word had spread like wildfire back then. Even in your young years, you could tell it was a great deed. Prince Aemond Targaryen had bonded with the largest dragon alive. The dragon who had fought alonside the very dragon whose very skull lay in front of you.

But Aemond didn’t look impressed.

In fact, he seemed positively uninterested… bored even.

Feeling overwhelmed by the weight of his unmoving glare and deafening silence, you reached out to touch some of the scalding wax that had pooled around one flickering candle.

“Zaldrīzes iā kraj.”

A powerful dragon.

That caught his attention and his eyebrow arched lightly with newfound interest. “You speak High Valyrian?”

You let out a low chuckle, breaking eye contact with him. “I am not knowledgeable enough to speak it fluently save for a few words I picked here and there.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Aemond take slow steps in your direction. “And how did you come across such words?” the curiosity in his voice was palpable.

You cleared your throat. “Merchants from the east would share them with my maester,” you replied. “And books.”

It was barely noticeable, but you watched as his eye widened every so slightly at the latter.

You were so entranced with the sudden proximity, you’d allowed droplets of wax to scorch your thumb, causing you to wince in both pain and surprise.

Aemond extended his own hand to toy with the molten wax that ran down in rivers of yellowish white. Unlike you, he was perfectly able to endure the heat as it was expected from Targaryens.

“What books?”

You brought the pad of your thumb to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss in an attempt to ease the burning sensation. “The Fires of the Freehold.”

His eye followed your motion. “You read history books?”

“Why so surprised?”

A side-smile curled his lips. “Have you read the entire book?”

Oh. He was testing you.

“That would be impossible,” you said, inwardly grinning as his eye widened yet again. “Many scrolls are missing, but I have had the opportunity to visit Oldtown and read the ones available.”

“Hmm,” he said, his smile dropping slightly. “My younger brother has provided me with some copies of the scrolls.”

“Daeron, is it? He’s in Oldtown, correct?”

A glimmer of impatience crossed his eye. “What do you make of that book?” he asked instead.

Was he testing you again?

“Well, it is always interesting to take a look at the past and try to understand what might have led to certain events.”

Aemond cracked the hardened wax on the tip of his fingers and nodded. “Indeed. Books feed the mind and provide unmatched knowledge.”

“What books do you read?”

“Mainly history and philosophy.”

Aemond seemed deeply invested in the conversation now and that did wonders to your ego. History holds Targaryens in high regards and whether it’s through fear, respect, or both, the people of Westeros would bend their knee to them.

So having this young prince, whose reputation preceded him, indulge in your interests was surely unexpected, but welcomed.

“It is my understanding that theoretical knowledge must be balanced out with a practical approach,” he said in a low voice.. “If you’re to read a book and not apply that knowledge, then it just stays stagnant in your head, rendering it useless. Would you agree?”

“To an extent,” you said, enjoying how the low flames flickered and were casting orange and yellow streaks along the side of his face. “But I believe certain books are more prone to such approach than others. You cannot take a history book and approach it as you approach a tactical one. Would you agree?”

Aemond snapped a surprised look on you, as if you had uttered a complete string of nonsense. His visible eye never left your face and you kept on glaring at him, wishing you were able to know his thoughts.

“Did I say something wrong?” you asked carefully.

“Not at all,” he said, clearing his throat, and to your relied he sounded amused. “And have you read such a book?”

You shook your head. “There is one I’d very much like to get my hands on.”

His eyebrows shot up as he waited for you to carry on.

“A Caution for Young Girls.”

You spotted a very notorious disapproving look twist his handsome features, which didn’t surprise you. After all, erotic books did get a bad reputation across the realm and would often be banished.

“You’ve heard of it,” you concluded.

“Of course, but I would not indulge in reading such depravity,” he said as a matter of fact.

“It is a book written by a woman,” you said, unable to hide the amusement in your voice. “How depraved can it be?”

“Depraved enough to have lords burning copies across the Seven Kingdoms,” Aemond replied readily.

You shrugged. “Then Lady Coryanne Wylde must have done something right when she wrote that book,” you then turned to him. “If her tales warrant such reaction from men, then it makes it all the more interesting.”

Aemond made a sound that was halfway between a chuckle and a cough. “Surely, you don’t think there is any valuable knowledge to take from that book.”

“I disagree. The practical approach you speak of would definitely benefit from the theoretical one provided in its pages.”

“And what knowledge might that be, my lady?”

“I have only heard rumours, of course,” you said, shrugging once again. “But matters of the body — specifically a woman’s body — are worth diving into.”

Aemond seemed slightly taken aback by your bluntness and you vaguely wondered if you had maybe overstepped the line.

“As much as I agree,” he began, tilting his head a fraction. “I highly doubt a young lady such as yourself would find any use in it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “How can you be so sure? You told me yourself you haven’t read it.”

Aemond stared down at your face. “I haven’t, but my elder brother has definitely flicked through a few pages,” he said with a hint of disdain. “If he finds it entertaining, then I’m certain of the level of perversion.”

“For someone who indulges in the knowledge books can offer, you sound awfully judgmental, prince Aemond,” the words left your mouth faster than your brain could process.

“Not all knowledge comes from books.”

“I disagree.”

He tilted his head and gave you a measured look. “Do you, now?”

“I believe there is always something to be learned,” you said with a nod. “Unless you believe yourself above such knowledge…”

Oh.

Maybe you had done it this time.

But your worry soon vanished as Aemond gave you a curt smile. “Do you think I’d need to read that book if I were to court you, my lady?”

You immediately stiffened and felt a lump form in your throat.

“Do you think you would need to read that book if you were to accept my advances?”

Oh…

The conversation had taken an unexpected turn to say the least and your mouth just hung open.

Aemond had the nerve to chuckle, visibly amused. “What’s the matter, my lady?” his voice was low, but the teasing spoke volumes. “Should I find you a book from our library, so you can seek knowledge to formulate your answers?” he finished with a curt smile as his eye dropped to your lips.

He was standing close. Too close. From that distance, you were able to make out the intricate details of the dragon brooches that lined the length of his leather coat.

Collecting yourself, you gazed up at him and returned a smile. “And what advances would those be?”

He had probably hoped his mocking words were enough to silence you, but two could play this game and Aemond Targaryen would soon get a taste of his own venom.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would,” you said, tilting your chin up to face him dead on. “Unless you’re all talk and no action, my prince.”

Aemond pinched his eyebrows together, creating two deep furrows between them as he kept his gaze on your lips.

You rode on instict and decided to press him further. “What is it, my prince? Should I fetch you a book so I may have a reply from you?”

He closed the gap between you two in a heartbeat, and then you felt him press his body lightly into yours.

But something else caught your attention through the delicate fabric of your dress.

Oh.

“Prince Aemond?”

You weren’t imagining things.

Oh.

Aemond Targaryen was hard.

You could barely feel it through your dress, but it was definitely there.

“I can see that this conversation is pleasing you,” you said, empowered by the sudden revelation.

Aemond shifted lightly, his head lowering to meet yours, hot breath fanning your skin. “I find it most invigorating, indeed.”

“Are you courting me?” your voice was but a whisper and your chest heaved, pressing into his own.

“Do you need a book to be able to tell that?” Aemond mocked before grazing his lips along your cheek. “Do you reckon that book would inform you how a Targaryen prince courts?”

Your hand snagged his left arm seeking urgent support, eyes fluttering shut as you suddenly felt scared to just breathe.

His lips never fully touched your skin and it was torturous to hold back from the urge to taste him.

“Would it tell you how to get a Targaryen prince hard?” he whispered in your ear, making a point by pressing his lower half further into you.

You truly wanted to succumb to his velvety teases, but suspected he wasn’t yerning for that.

“I got you hard with just words, prince Aemond?”

He said nothing. He only brought one hand to cup your chin, thumb brushing across your lips. There was allure in his silent ministrations, the only sounds you could hear being your thumping heart and his heavy breathing.

The throbbing between your legs was nearly unbearable, specially when you could feel him so willing for you.

“I’m not interrupting something, am I?” an amused voice rang out.

Even though Aemond remained perfectly calm, you sharply turned your head to spot prince Aegon standing across the room, looking positively entertained by what he had just run into.

As if scalded by fire, you tore yourself away from Aemond, straightening the fabric of your dress before bowing. “Prince Aegon.”

When you straightened back, you watched as his eyes roamed the length of your body before shifting to Aemond.

“Oh, brother,” Aegon said, not even trying to hold back his laughter. “Seems like our guest is giving you a hard time.”

Your eyes widened as your mouth dropped open in disbelief, embarrassment gripping you hard.

“Careful, brother,” Aemond said, adjusting his eyepatch. “I will not entertain your idiocy.”

But Aegon’s attention had long since left his younger brother and his gaze was fixed on you, an ear-to-ear smile crossing his face.

“Was it the other way around, my lady?” he asked, still keeping his distance. “Was my brother giving you a hard time?”

Before you could bring yourself to reply, you watched Aemond shift beside you, sending his dagger streaking off in Aegon’s direction in one smooth motion.

The dagger lodged in the wooden wall with a clunk only mere inches away from where Aegon stood.

“You missed,” he gloated with a grin, far too amused for someone who just had a blade flung at them.

Was he… drunk?

“Deliberately,” he said with a wry smile, shifting his weight onto his other leg. “You know I never miss.”

“You can try to deflect as hard as you wish, little brother,” Aegon chuckled, slowly but surely taking a few steps towards the door. “But it still won’t be as hard as your cock is right now,” he finished before slipping through the entrance at lightning bolt speed.

Aemond bolted from your side, chasing after his brother.

In the back of your head you vaguely wondered what historians would make of this and what books they might write on these two Targaryen siblings.

[skelly-words]

more bf!sukuna hcs, but he’s insufferable and stuck in my head. this is part 4…

warning: some NSFW, slight intox, minors DNI

NEVER lets you drive. he’s so misogynistic. “females are bad drivers” ass bitch. "you're gonna wrap us around a tree."

claims to despise when you baby him e.g. forehead kisses, scratching his back to put him to sleep, even fucking cuddling. don’t believe that shit for a second but pretend to and stop until he starts acting grateful.

way too confrontational to be taken out in public. just pretend you don’t know him when he’s pulling a gun on someone who stepped on his shoes.

you’d be broke if you bailed him out of jail every fucking time. at least let him marinate there all night before folding or call his dad to do it instead.

so messy. it's unintentional, but sukuna just leaves a trail of disorder in his wake. throw pillows on the floor, shoes in the walkway, and always leaving the lights on despite complaining about the utility bill.

throw him outside to do yardwork or something. he loves that shit. putting in a couple fruit trees, maybe stepping stones. by the end of the summer you have a tiered garden with slate retaining walls and an automatic irrigation system.

why does he have a green thumb? he's in a secret competition with the neighbors for prettiest lawn. and yet, you manage to kill the little succulent garden he planted for you.

a minimalist (derogatory). sukuna is always trying to throw your trinkets and knickknacks away when you're not paying attention.

he loves getting a little fashion show after you buy new clothes. it's one of the few cute things he'll admit to enjoying. it doesn't matter if the outfit is skimpy or modest, hearts are popping out of his eyes like in a fucking cartoon.

doesn't apologize under any circumstances. the word 'sorry,' isn't in his lexicon. however, he will leave his card on the counter before heading to work and pick up flowers on the way home and make reservations at your favorite restaurant. don't expect to hear a real apology though.

super duper tender-headed. you can't even detangle it without him whining. might cry if you try to do braids, twists, any kinda style. fucking pussy

irritating asf. actually hate him, idk why i’m writing this. i'd probably poison him and collect the life insurance.

UMM nsfw

calling sukuna something corny and dominant in bed (sir/daddy/king/etc.) out of the blue would make him nut. and he isn’t even embarrassed about it at all.

incapable of pulling off a quickie. i think this is more endearing than aggravating. he can't hit it right in just ten minutes. he'll ask for more time. and a little more. then it's been an hour and you're likely running late for something.

thinks you're hottest bent over (i'm not even projecting rn bc my ass is flat). don't worry, he thinks your face is cute, missionary is great too. but if you wore one of those pillow case ass house dresses with no panties he'd go crazy. i hate to air him out like this, but it's true. i gotta link this shit so you know what i'm talking about. makes him feral. maybe i am projecting bc i luv those dresses.

but anyway, he'd fall for the 'bend and snap' so bad (legally blonde reference). these are basically crack, sorry

occasionally forgets that foreplay is a thing and tries to go straight from light frenching to stickin it.

i feel like sukuna’s sunday nights are spent getting really high and kissing on you for hours. he just gets the munchies dude. leaving dewy spots of saliva on all your exposed skin. once he’s tasted that, your clothes is peeled off so he can drool on the rest of you. he doesn’t even realize how much of a tease he is. his mouth suctioned to your inner thigh… maybe i should just write this as its own thingy

p sure i said this already, but he’s a biter. gnaws on you like a mf chew toy. it’s an oral fixation thing, if you don’t like it buy him lots of lollipops and tic tacs.

ok i have to stop before i gross myself out. tyty for reading <3<3<3 have a wonderful day.

masterlist if you wanna read the rest

[dxckgrxsonx]

not to be a whore but dick listening to you beg for his cock and fluttering his eyelashes at you with a pout on his lips and going “poor baby, so pathetic” while playing with your pussy but never letting you come 🤩

stop it you're exposing my denial kink!! im ripping up the floorboards. im chewing wires.

**

You shrug off interrogation the same way you brush off a three story fall.

Calculate the trajectory of the descent and throw your limbs into something coordinated, something astonishingly competent. Soften the blow by bending your knees. Move with the punch to avoid breaking your jaw. Twist your joints to slip through the restraints.

People pin you in place and think they’ve won. Only to find out you’ve slotted seven different escape routes into place by the time they’ve asked one question.

It’s hard to back you into a corner and keep you there. It’s even harder to get you to give something up, whether it be a thought, a piece of intel, a desire. Tell you a secret and you’ll take it straight to the grave, not once would you hesitate.

Getting you to beg though?

That should be impossible.

But Dick Grayson has never once backed down from a challenge. And you realise a little too late that this time, you don’t have an exit strategy.

For the first time in a long time, you don’t have anything at all.

**

He barely needs to touch you. Just slides one finger over your aching clit once, twice, and your whole body flinches like a live wire, flexing in the same way you reflectively jolt from a static shock. Your soft, wet pussy tries grasping so desperately for something more, for just one little touch to push you over.

“Hm, I bet if I touched your needy cunt just once more, you’d come, wouldn’t you?” Dick observes, chin resting on your shoulder. He waits for your clit to stop twitching before rubbing his finger over it again. Just once this time and you choke on a whimpering cry when your pussy throbs, the ache bordering unbearable. “I don’t think you’ve ever been this wet before. How many times have I not let you come now?”

Simple arithmetic fails you. The world around you shudders and dissolves, melts right out from under your feet, leaks from between your shaking thighs. There’s no solid ground and you think that if someone asked you to tell them your name, you wouldn’t have a clue where to start.

“Please–I don’t–” You move your hand just far enough to brush your inner thigh, fingers reaching out to touch your swollen, puffy pussy. Dick stops you straight away, clicks his tongue in disapproval. “I can’t–Dick, please. I don’t know.”

He smirks against the bare skin of your shoulder, tilts his head to whisper in your ear, “Oh, so you want me to start at the beginning? You want me to go back to number one?”

“No!” You try, voice smoothing up against the jagged edge of hysteria. “Please–not again. I can’t do it again. Dick…please just—please just fuck me!”

You feel him, hot and stiff against your back. The heavy press of his cock to your skin burns. You didn’t think you could want something so much it physically hurt, but Dick slots himself at the centre of your nervous system, redirects every single stray thought to him. He makes you feel drunk, empties out your head until there's nothing left but this bone deep ache, this need for him to stuff you full.

You’re babbling, nearly incoherent. In the back of your head, you realise vaguely that you’re actually begging. Even further back than that you come to the realisation that Dick is the only one who’s ever been able to make you beg.

It’s a complete power shift and you feel like you’ve fallen and forgotten how to land.

“Please fuck me. Dick it’s not fair–you’re not being fair.” You sniffle, tears bubbling up along your lower lashes. You grind your hips up, try to rock against his palm. “I just want you to fuck me. It hurts so bad. My pussy aches. Please…please.”

Stroking your clit so lightly it feels like nothing at all, Dick reaches for your jaw, turns your head to the side so he can see the tears threatening to tumble down your cheeks. He hums, almost thoughtful, then kisses you, licks into your mouth to taste your desperation.

Your clit swells under the barely there pressure and you whine into his mouth, body shaking itself apart. You’re fighting to get to the edge, pleading for it, drooling for it. But Dick holds you back, each torturous touch getting slower, lighter.

“Please. Baby–please. I can’t take any more. Ohh–please.”

And he stops. Pulls away and leaves your pussy twitching and leaking all over the sheets. Your tears overflow and Dick kisses them away, licks the salt into his greedy mouth and coos, ever so gently at the desperate sob pulling at your ribs.

“Oh my poor baby.” He drawls, something horribly condescending in his voice. “Crying because I won’t fuck you, because I won’t let you come. So desperate. So pathetic.”

**

[chronic-escapixt]

His Rose ~ Part 5

(Kai Parker x Bennett OC fanfiction)

content warnings/tags ~ Dark fiction, murder, abuse, trauma, angst, self-harm, manipulation, dubcon, CNC, smut, edging, degradation, overstim, squirting, bondage, oral (f/m receiving), rough sex, age gap, unhealthy!dom/sub dynamics. Minors DNI

I don't claim ownership of The Vampire Diaries or its characters. All credits go to the rightful owner(s). I only own my original character(s).

Word count: 4.5k

K.P. Masterlist

A chill crept up her spine, not unlike when she first arrived at the house. Kai’s presence always comforts her when she feels unease, but now that she was alone the silence was eerie, like the house itself was waiting to unleash its hidden secrets. 

Kai left to run some errands while Rose prepared dinner. Once the roast was in the oven, she was left with only her thoughts and a burning curiosity so she wanted to do some exploring of her own to pass the time.

She wandered the empty halls. At the very end of the upper corridor was a door unlike the others, slightly tucked away into a dimly lit corner, half shadowed. The closer she got, the more she noticed how unique it was with its old peeling white paint and rusted hinges. 

She glanced down at the padlock before giving the door a brief shake just to confirm that it was  locked, making her all the more suspicious of what was being kept on the other side. 

The kitchen alarm blared downstairs, it was time to check the roast but she was in no rush. It was cooking in the oven - low and slow - and still needed at least two more hours anyway. Besides, the alarms in her head were much louder, urging her forward. Still she indecisively chewed at the inner flesh of her cheek while contemplating turning back - spending her time in any other way - but her nosiness won out. There was no actual threat because it was just her and Kai but she knew if Bonnie were there, she’d tell her to follow her gut. Instincts had never steared a Bennett wrong before. right?

She closed her eyes with her hand outstretched toward the door and focused on the padlock as she uttered the chant, motus.

The lock burst in half with a loud pop, making her jump - always surprising herself with her own abilities. It appears her lessons with Kai are paying off. 

She kicked aside the metal and slowly opened up to a narrow staircase. Each step offered a foreboding creak as she continued her careful ascent until reaching the attic. It was dark but she could feel how cramped the space was. Still she managed, barely making out the pull chain hanging from the exposed lightbulb on the ceiling. It illuminated the room with a dull amber light that flickered at first.

The attic looked like the scene of a crime. Debris and glass crunched under her sneakers as she walked. The cramped space filled with broken furniture strewn across the floor, a pile of sheets beside a bare mattress and posters torn from the walls. There was a small room off the side of the main space that she thought was a closet but upon closer inspection was a bathroom. 

The space appeared to be somewhat habitable, as if the attic wasn’t just for storage.

Someone lived up here. The thought made her stomach turn.

The only direct access to natural light was a small circular window with only a thin slit between a pair of wooden boards nailed into place. Even before whatever rampage happened up here, it couldn’t have been a pleasant stay for its host with its splintered wood floors and low ceilings.

She gazed up at a half torn poster of Pamela Anderson in her iconic red one-piece in front of the lifeguard tower. The bottom half was torn clean off and what remained hung diagonally from a singular push pin. Kai loved Baywatch, so it immediately reminded her of him. He was always talking about his favorite TV shows, classics to her, like Baywatch, the Simpsons and Ren & Stimpy. 

Over on the desk, she found a small polaroid, carefully picking it up so as not to cut her hand on the small shards of glass scattered over it. 

It was Kai with his arm around a thin girl with very fair skin and cropped dark hair. She gave a slight grin into the camera, but it didn't reach her eyes. It was odd.

Rose flipped it over and read the message on the back.

From Mel, 1994

-Don’t lose hope.

She placed it down with a shaky breath as the questions mounted in her mind. Kai wasn’t very open about his past, often avoiding intimate details all together and becoming distant when she even slightly pressed. If this was his home, she now saw why he wasn’t forthcoming. This was… disturbing.

Across the room was a lopsided tapestry but she looked closer and noticed what was underneath it. Moving the tapestry aside uncovered hundreds of little lines etched into the wall with what appeared to be a blade, marks like tally’s on a cell wall - counting down each day of a prisoner’s sentence. 

A lump formed in her throat when she bent down. What looked to be Malachai was crossed out with deep haphazard cuts. Abomination carved several times in a row then black sheep, defective closely followed by a word that was etched out so deeply she couldn't make it out. Her heart sank as she touched it, feeling his raw anguish in the jagged edges of each line.

“What are you doing?” the sound of his voice sliced through her thoughts.

She spun around to him - his brows knit harshly over his narrowed eyes. He looked right through her, staring at the wall.

“I was just walking around and I.. ” her words fell off as he brushed past her and took hold of the tapestry. His jaw ticked tightly and the blood rose to his ears as he stressed the tapestry to cover the wall, as if it could erase what she’d already seen.

“Kai—"

He huffed and shrugged her off, not even looking back to acknowledge her. His withdrawn behavior concerningly unfamiliar to her.

"Get out. Now." he muttered.

“Can we talk for a minute?” She tried to be firm, but her words came out waveringly. His mind seemed trapped in a place she couldn’t reach, her voice echoing around him but not penetrating and that scared her. She was desperate to pull him back.

She closed the space between them. “Kai, it’s going to be okay.”

But, it wasn’t. 

Each mark was a reminder of each day he spent confined on his own. No matter what he did the carvings peaked out, taunting him like an unavoidable reminder of his past, his weakness she now knew about. He lost control of the narrative nd that loss made him frantic. 

For one last desperate attempt, he gave the tapestry a hard yank from the bottom and it gave, entirely ripping through the rusted nail and falling at his feet in a heap.

“GODDAMMIT!” he raged, tearing erratically at it until it came apart in scraps. 

“Kai, stop! Stop it!” She tried to grab him, but he whirled around so fast, she flung into the dresser. 

“I said GET OUT! What part of that don’t you understand!” he shouted. 

Her words caught in her throat. She rubbed her arm and took hesitant steps back, stalling momentarily for him to calm down, change his mind, perhaps open up but all he offered was a cold dismissive glower before turning his back and balling the tapestry into tight fists. She dashed down the stairs to her room and slammed the door.

Rose sank to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest, replaying the last few minutes in her head. She was left with more questions than she ever had before and a painful gnawing in her chest.

“fuck. fuck. fuck,” Kai went into a full blown panic, raking his hands through his hair and yanking impulsively before dragging them down his face. He cursed himself for not wiping the room clean like he did the rest of the house, all the family photos, albums and heirlooms he could get his hands on were burned in a symbolic fire in the pit in the woods behind the house, save the ascendant.  As for the attic, he just put the lock on the door, hoping it would keep her out while allowing him to avoid the visual reminders of the most painful parts of his past. Now he had no idea what she saw.

Weeks of meticulous planning - years of waiting on an opportunity, gone - right down the drain!

It wasn’t completely hopeless, he reminded himself.

There was always plan B. 

But that was a lot messier.

He could salvage this. He just needed to think. There wasn’t enough room to pace, not even to breathe once the walls began to suffocate him like they used to. He froze for a moment before he remembered he was free to leave so he did.

Kai was sitting on the porch swing, toying with his little pine cone that he collected on his walk. The sun was setting low when she found him. Rose opened the screen door and sat down. Not a word passed between them for the first few minutes, both unsure of what to say until she spoke up. 

“I’m so sorry, Kai.”

He gave a sore chuckle, finally looking up. “You’re apologizing? I’m the one who messed up. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you… it’s just- I promised myself a long time ago that I’d never go up there again.” 

“You never told me this was your family home—”

“—coven,” he interrupted shortly, “They were never a family to me.” His gaze went hard and distant.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

He heaved a sigh, “I didn’t want to scare you. You saw what it’s like up there, and that’s just the beginning. You can’t put a pretty bow on my past, so I figured it was better to leave out the grim details.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I know how ugly the truth can be sometimes. My mom kept my witch side from me my entire life and when she finally told me the truth I hated her for it, but once the cat was out of the bag, I realized quickly that being a witch meant I’d have to grow up really fast and lose the people I’ve always had by my side. I guess what I’m saying is I understand where you’re coming from, but I wish you’d understand that you don’t have to hide from me. I know it's hard, but I want to know you, the real you,” she spoke earnestly, offering a comforting nudge of her foot.

Kai paused a moment before turning to her, “I was cut off from my siblings so I wouldn’t hurt them with my ‘deformity’ or be a visual reminder to guests of my family’s disgrace. The lock was put on by my father. Sometimes I was left up there for days - sometimes weeks at a time, and I’d just listen to my siblings play or watch them from the window. He caught me watching once and boarded it up - I guess so I wouldn’t get any ideas..” 

Her heart broke for him.

“I stole my dad’s hunting knife when I was like - 13 and I was going to kill myself that night, but I wouldn’t bring myself to do it… so I started carving the wall.. and my skin.”

He turned his palm upwards and moved his layered bracelets to reveal the dull scars on the otherwise smooth skin along his wrist. 

“I’m not crazy, but after being up there for so long, I couldn’t even feel time passing anymore. I couldn’t feel anything.. and the pain made me feel.. Something.” His voice faltered.

He noticed her eyes threatening to spill over from his words. 

“I’m sorry.”

“No.. baby, no. It’s just - I had no idea.” 

She reached out to him, finally giving in to the mounting need to hold him close. 

He melted into her touch. They stay this way for a minute until she felt his breathing steady. She pulled away to make sure he saw her eyes when she said, “You’re not crazy, you’re not defective, and you’re not an abomination.” 

He sighed and she cupped his cheeks, “Kai, you can tell me anything, understand? You’re safe with me. There’s nothing you could tell me that could scare me away.” 

At this, he broke a smile but not for the reasons she would’ve thought. The irony was slightly comical in his demented mind. She still didn’t know the half of his dark history and her promise was one that he knew she wouldn’t keep when came down to it. 

“No more secrets, okay? You have to promise me.”

He raised his pinky with a lighthearted grin, “I promise, no more secrets.”

“No more secrets,” she repeated, locking pinkies tightly. 

They head inside to reheat and enjoy their dinner. After clearing his plate at least three times and making sure their leftovers wouldn’t last the week, he set the dishes in the washer while she put away what was left. 

“Can I ask you a question?” she said after shutting the fridge. 

“Shoot.”

She thought back to the photo she found earlier. “Who’s Mel?” 

“My cousin. Mel was the only person in this house who didn’t hate me. We were actually kinda close.” He reminisced with a genuine smile. 

Feelings are hard, a fact Kai knew all too well but never let himself dwell long enough on the past or the emotions that came with it. Everything was balled up and locked away in the tiny attic of his mind and - all except the anger. But his rage served a purpose, like a flame that fueled his undying vendetta to return to the world and take back what’s rightfully his. Kai could always anticipate a sort of cathartic satisfaction in the aftermath of his retaliation - and that was his favorite part. 

He believed it to be easy to manipulate Rose as long as he kept fucking the thoughts out of her head - keep her compliant and blissfully ignorant -  and it was all going to plan until she pulled a move he didn’t anticipate. Poking past locked doors, nearly ruining his plans decades in the making, forcing him to tread back through his memories up in that attic. A lifetime of buried trauma assaulted him all at once and for a moment his expertly curated mask fell right in front of her. 

Luckily for him, he was able to spin the narrative in his favor, however pitiful it was, he was given the opportunity to show a sort of vulnerability that made the naive girl endear to him even more than before. 

And now Rose held him close, offering a loving touch in the way her soft fingers caressed the nape of his neck up through his short tresses and back again, tugging ever so gently at the roots, a cycle that made him almost curl into her and purr with satisfaction. She knew how to soothe him and he hated that he loved it, but worst of all he hated the way she weakened him. His mind quietly churning with ways to punish her for it. 

Playing nice was one thing but he drew the line at the cliched broken boyfriend that she heals with the power of love. The thought repulsed him. So he decided on a different route - risky, sure, but all the more satisfying. He’d make her pay for the trouble she caused and give her a taste of what he’s truly capable of. 

“Do you wanna try something new tonight?” 

Her hand paused in its ministrations. The question piqued her interest as she peered up into his stormy blues, blissfully unaware of the sadistic plot brewing behind them. 

His smile reassured her.

“I do,” she replied.

“Is this okay?” He asked whilst he bound her wrists together with utility rope. 

She swallowed, her chest trembling slightly with each exhale.

“..yes...” 

“..You scared?” 

“Not at all. I trust you.” 

That was your first mistake.

He fastened her wrists tight before securing them around the middle slat of the headboard to keep from moving.

“Not even a little scared?” He teased with a grin.

She shook her head, trying not to show it but the anticipation made goosebumps prickle across her skin and arousal pool between her throbbing lips. This was her first time being fully restrained, feeling how tight the rope was with each experimental tug of her wrists.

He leaned down and kissed her hard. 

God this is gonna be fun.

Kai pulled his shirt over his head, allowing her to drink in his lean torso. Abs carved all the way down to a defined v-line, a thin happy trail of dark hair that disappeared behind denim shorts. She doesn’t have long to appreciate the view before he dropped to sear hot kisses into her neck and collarbone, biting and sucking dutifully at the swell of each breast hard enough to litter them with fresh marks before soothing over the aching flesh with his tongue. 

Her back arched when he sucked a perked bud between his lips. He reached down to give her pussy some attention. Stroking along the dimple between her swollen lips through the damp fabric.

“Aughh.. Kaiiii…” she whined, so consumed by her own neediness that the mistake slipped past her lips. But, it wasn’t lost on him and she became deeply aware of that when his fingers moved too close around her neck, jerking her up until they bumped noses.

“What did you just call me?” He growled. Her wide eyes picking up a hint of a scowl in his that made her pulse quicken.

“.. huh? .. ohhh no… m’ sorry..” She whimpered. 

“You’re sorry… you’re sowry, huh?” He mocked cruelly.

Not yet you’re not. 

“Yes… daddy.. I forgot.”

He caressed her cheek, a misleadingly tender gesture for what he had intended. “That's alright sweets, I’ll make sure you never forget again.”

The next second he was pulling off her panties and tossing them to an obscure corner of the room. She reeled when he started rubbing her bare clit - already pulsing, glistening, so worked up she could cum at any moment but he’s too precise, his tongue darting out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on her response. Everytime she came close, he changed the pattern or stopped altogether. 

“..Gahhhdd.. You’re teasing!” she bucked her hips in frustration, chasing his elusive fingers.

“Hush. You’ll cum when I say so,” he husked, punctuating his words with a harsh slap to her cunt, her lips stinging upon impact before he rubbed them in sloppy circles. She tenses before he smacks her again, her legs go taut and threaten to close on him but he’s too quick to grip her thigh and hold it open for him to slide a finger into her sopping hole. A second followed, then a third joined the others. Hardly waiting for her to adjust to his thick digits, taking his pleasure in making her stretch around half his hand as they pumped in and out of her.

She gasped and grimaced. The pain mixed with the pleasurable fullness of taking more of him than she ever had before, bringing her deliciously close as she curled forward to give into it. 

filthy little slut, sucking my fingers in so deep.

He withdrew his digits completely as she sank back down with a groan. 

“Pleaseee..” she uttered weakly.

He took to brush at her inner thigh, spreading her sticky arousal across supple trembling flesh, his eyes holding pity. 

“Now, is that really the best you can do for me, babe? C’mon, if you really wanna cum that badly, you’ve gotta try harder than that.. beg me.” He shook his head, mindlessly rolling her puffy pearl.

“Nhmm! PLEASE..PLEASE.. PLEASE.. Daddy.. I-I- need- you- mm- please.. please.. p-please let me cum..  pleaseee..” Rose sobbed until her voice went hoarse. 

Tears already? Poor fucking crybaby, so pathetic you’re actually drooling and begging me to let you cum.

Her desperate attempts to struggle nearly moved him to offer an ounce of mercy her way, but that wasn’t his style.

Kai groaned and sucked her clit while finger-fucking her molten core. 

“FUCKKkk…” 

His fingertips pumped through her spongey walls, creating the lewdest wettest sounds, setting a brutal pace that he doesn’t break. He felt her clench dangerously around him.

“daddyyy…pl-” 

“Fucking cum for me, princess.. hhmm….. that’s it let it out, babe..” he talked her through it.

She obeyed, crying out as he held her tight through deep tremors, not at all halting his movements, her walls spasming around wet fingers that only seemed to speed up once lubricated in her milky release. 

She spiraled a second time from a mixture of aftershock and his undying diligence.

“s’ too much.. i can’t..” she cried and struggled fruitlessly, the rope cut into her wrists until they’re raw. 

His grip on her pelvis started to hurt, the stretch of his fingers burned as more tears streamed down her temples and cheeks. She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to fight it, focusing on anything other than the merciless demon between her legs making her tense and clench around him.

“Open those pretty eyes, princess.”  He slapped her cunt and laughed when she whimpered. He wasn’t letting her off that easy.

Her body restrained and spread out for him as he tormented her with one orgasm after another, her sweet desperation saturating his tongue, softening the path of his fingers. His warm blood flows to his cock, feeling painfully restrained behind his denim shorts.

Rose barely got a moment of relief when he pulled away before he bullied his cock into her, swallowing her moans in a savage kiss of clashing tongues, dominating her mouth before he sucks her lips and nips at her neck, kissing and licking the tears from her face as she held him like a vice, keening and squeezing him. 

“Such a fuckin whore for me.. taking everything I give you.”

“I-I'm not a whore—” she gasped.

He shoved his thumb in her mouth to silence her. 

“You’re my whore, my fucking cocksleeve and like a well trained little pet you’ll do whatever I tell you.. you’ll cum whenever I tell you.. hell - you’re gonna’ come right now, aren't you?” he finished with an animalistic grunt, growing sloppy.

He hooked her legs over his shoulders, rutting deeper when he looked down and noticed the taut skin of her belly rising slightly with each thrust. He explored with his fingers, pressing down on the little bulge as she whined, her nails digging into her wrists. 

She could do nothing but collapse into the next wave, mouth falling open, core gushing and a thin spray of slick coating his lower torso. 

“.. d’ you just squirt?.. ts’ so fucking hot..” He exhaled, rubbing her bud until she gasped and a light sprinkle joined the others on the damp sheets. 

That was her first time and she hungered for more, pure ecstasy took over as her body fully submits to his.

She gave an appreciative smile before sucking his finger and earning an approving hum. 

“My girl..”

She swelled with pride. lids hooded in a cockdrunk stupor.

The last of her strength gave out with one final detonation. Her eyes rolled back and her head lulled to the side.

Oh shit.

He made her lose consciousness - wrists melting into the rope from her dead weight. He didn’t get to cum before untieing her, having to end their oh-so satisfying torture session right when it was getting good but it was worth it just to watch her writhe.

Her eyes fluttered open. His hands take care to rub the aching skin of her wrists in small circles.

“You’re okay? Took it too far, huh?” He purposely softened his eyes.

She leaned up to kiss him, a brief smooch so she get back to staring at him in all his glory. Despite all he gave her, all she could think about was more.  

Her eyes locked onto his member, stiff and flushed with need.

“you didn’t cum?” She pouted.

“No. I didn’t want to wear you out.. too bad.. but that's alright, we can just go to bed and I’ll get some you water—” he moved to rise from the bed but she grabbed his arm. She’s eye level with it, appreciating the beauty of his generous length, a head that swelled to a pretty pink hue. 

“Can I..?” 

“Think you can handle it, sweets?” He leaned back with a short laugh. Her voice strained and breathy yet she won’t stop.

Rose reached out and dragged her tongue down his slit, tasting her sweet juices mixed with his salty precum. She felt him shiver, so she repeated. 

Who is this girl?

Her lips enveloped the tip, eyes flicking up at him. Bright hazel orbs, contrasting with his darkened blues as he watched her carefully. Then she released it with an audible pop. “I dunno’, I'm not sure I can fit it all..” she cheekily grinned, he felt so much thicker in her hand. 

“Now who’s teasing? Be a good girl now.” Kai groans, lightly bucking his hips toward her. 

She giggled and began dragging her tongue along the thick vein that ran the length of his cock. She took him as far back as she could, rolling her hand along what she couldn’t fit. Picking up a steady rhythm, she took more as she relaxed her throat. His hand gripped the back of her head, moving faster as tears fell from her lashes, saliva fully coating her chin. 

She watched his face contort with pleasure. There was something about asserting herself and watching him unravel for her that made her leak with fresh arousal.

His soft grunts, laced with short curses as he felt his balls tighten. He pushed her down on his shaft as he twitched against her tonsils.

“Rose—” he grunts.

Thick ropes of cum coat her tongue and throat. He withdrew from her and some dripped out the side of her mouth. Before her tongue could dart out, he caught it on the pad of his thumb. Without missing a beat, she sucked it into her mouth, releasing it once clean. 

He exhaled sharply, “you blow my mind, Rosy.”