#just one night pls ur grace

[lovebugdrabbles]

Wriothesley Headcanons n$4w vers

notes: i need readers to please go into this believing bro is 35 years of age MINIMUM. or u won't get my VISION. also, my tags are messy bc it's my first time posting my writing on tumblr so just pretend ik how to tag my writing.

warnings: n$4w obvs, 1k words, untitled sentences for the aesthetic, semi-lit, i do use apostrophes, shortened words/abbreviations, i want him in a muzzle so that's mentioned, inappropriate use of handcuffs, i mention he gets rough, i write him as a sweetie pie lowkey tho, tbh it’s a little vanilla, i made a joke abt being ford tough and i feel that warrants a warning, biting, pet name ‘doll’ used, (brief mention) ass slapping , (brief mention) hair pulling, i call him a teddy bear a couple times, (mentioned) slight manhandling, i get a little too into imaging him subby, oops, i also get a bit caught up in soft dom wriothesley,

now playing |◁ II ▷| ‘doin time’ by sublime

methinks he's defff vers/switch but will fully let a partner take over or will take control himself. i don't believe he's picky in this department for a moment. i think he might prefer dom however his dom side has limits.

i bet he's sooo vocal. letting every little grunt and moan out. word vomits too. whatever he’s thinking, his partner will hear it.

big softie. idc. he is a SWEET MAN. 'love should be warm' headass.

so many pet names for his partner. doll, baby, baby-doll, babe, sweetheart, hon/honey. but doll or sweetheart r his faves.

using his title in bed makes him melt.

like i don't think he's malicious in bed. like truly. he seems teddy-bearish to me but i could be looking thru rose colored glasses i must say.

he's def a bit rough tho but i think it'd be in a playful way. there is times he’d get too into the moment and grab on a bit too tight to a thigh or the hair he's running a hand thru or snap his hips a little too hard but he doesn't mean to and will apologize immediately and try to make it up to a partner or even stop mid-session to make sure the other party is alright.

not opposed to using the cuffs if a partner asks. on him or his partner. but he needs enthusiastic consent before or he won't do it.

i do think he’s actually rlly good abt asking for consent to do things tho. but he does it in a way that it feels like part of sex and not just asking for permission ‘you like that?’, ‘you wanna keep going, doll?’ ‘wanna keep taking me?’ but he will make said doll use their words or he won’t keep going. mans is a whore for hearing a partner beg or ask him to do something and he's not above it either.

he seems like the type to wanna hold hands while going at it. like if his hands can reach his partners they are intertwined or at least touching. a pinkie wrapped around the other at the very least. he feels closer and just… better with it

y'all know the shirt that says 'warning this bitch bites' he needs it. will leave marks that last for days and absolutely loves if a partner does it too. but he does feel a bit guilty after especially if it's a hard bite so will pepper kisses on them after.

seeing his bite marks on a partner drives him crazy tho. like, makes him stop in his tracks and wakes up smth in him like a sleeper agent.

kisses thru-out the ordeal soz u can pry this from my cold dead hands. he feels a little guilty if he isn't kissing a hand, a clavicle or any piece of skin he can delicately place a smooch on occasionally when he's not biting ofc.

additionally: my brain has been occasionally FOGGED w thoughts of him in a muzzle. i'm drooling rn actually. i think he'd have a love-hate relationship with it since he wouldn't be able to kiss or bite a partner but he absolutely bends at a partner’s will when they tug on the bars and that's the best part for him

honestly i don't think he'd be comfortable going much harder than what i've mentioned. maybe he'd allow a few slaps on the ass but idk just seems out of character imo. being rough and tumble is for work and the ring and i think he'd keep it that way.

i did say he's a switch/vers so it's time to talk abt both sides of the coin :))))

when he's in a particularly subby mood; he's pathetic. a complete mess of a man.

its so satisfying to see a guy so high in power just groveling to someone.

i bet he looks at a partner w the biggest puppy dog eyes, mumling the softest and breathiest pleases, his hair all tousled and falling over his face. he thinks he's willing to do anything a partner orders him to do atp.

especially interested in peppering kisses on a partner when he's in this mood. nuzzling and sighing as he wraps his arms around his partner and smooches.

this is the time he is very much not opposed to the handcuffs on him.

i think he'd asked to be praised or called a good boy on these nights. i don't make the rules.

this is when he gets vocal. whimpering included too.

but the facade almost immediately drops when aftercare starts.

on the topic of a dom wriothesley; honestly i dont see him getting into the rough dom role but staying more of a soft dom and being very comfortable there.

that is where the word vomit happens, talking a partner through it all when he's in this mood, telling them how good they feel, they're being so good, or to quiet down despite being a bit noisy himself but that's what his biting is for.

moaning into every bite. teeth marks and hickeys covering a partner the next morning leading to that system overload i touched on earlier.

willing to try more positions when he's in this mood fs but he truly believes you cant go wrong w the classics. *cough cough* missionary

this is when he gets real into it and loses himself in the moment like i mentioned earlier. hips bucking and hands reaching to hold onto a partner like they'll escape.

he gets a little bit rougher but its still not in a mean way more in a 'oh yeah? watch this.' type way. pulling a partner closer of man handling them to hold their hips in a better position.

occasionally those pet names get a very adamant 'my' in front of them.

i think this is when his most comfortable area of aftercare comes in but not before one last thing.

he'd like to stay holding a partner for a bit afterwards, letting everyone regain their bearings before hopping into aftercare mode if he was the one in control.

aftercare on top tho. tea, running a bath, helping a partner bathe if they so want, helping a partner get dressed if they're super sore, massages, just all out pampering, especially if he gets a little rough.

he equally enjoys reciving aftercare but is hesitant bc he says he's fine or he's built tough. BUILT FORD TOUGH. sorry idk where that came from and he is but the guy needs to let a partner take care of him sometimes.

the 'love is supposed to be warm' line weighs heavy on me if u cant tell. he's just a teddy bear :(( ugh i'll sob.

la fin !

end notes: tysm for reading the ravings of a madman !! i've had so many random ass thoughts abt him since playing the story quests lmfao and i wanted to get out of my fluffy/horror writing comfort zone so i wrote basically what i think he's like in bed jsjsjs. i may be posting some stuff on boothill from honkai star rail but it'll probably be more rambling just about robotics and prosthesis for now if i post. if i don't post that i'm wrapping up a wriolette fic soon and that will be up here or on my ao3 under the same user !! till next timeee

[dipperscavern]

reading the father cregan most has made me feel things ?? my womb is empty ?? and waiting for cregan ??

ALSO KISSES i will always read your tags. they are the favorite parts of my day, in addition to when you post. notifications stay ON.

climbing up the walls with more thoughts of father cregan 🤠 (gods be fucking good, this does sound like a convent. hi sisters!) 🛐

i digress. as we have well established, cregan is a lovely father. he's patient. he's a leader. and he's got that stark loyalty and determination to protect what he loves. which is you and your little pups. (ur so right. he only refers to them as pups.)

i imagine that when your water breaks, you are squeezing this man's hand to the point of bone breakage. pleading with him not to leave. so when the maesters come in and settle you, they look at cregan, expecting him to leave the room - per tradition. one of them, maybe the youngest, starts speaking. "lord stark-" and cregan shuts that shit DOWN ☝️ "your lady stark does not wish it." and everyone knows to shut up and listen when it comes to lord and lady stark.

he is absolutely the type of lad to pick your kids pups up as they climb all over him. once in a post, you described his back as burly enough to sled on and your kids are determined to test that. HELP CAN we actually picture cregan's velocity sliding down a hill like 😐 while his kids are giggling, sliding on his back. hi! hello!

he tells your kids stories of the north in that rugged god-sent accent as he tucks them in for bed. will probably sneak out with them in the night to go get lemoncakes from the kitchen. he gives them cute little fur cloaks to wear, with the house stark embroidery. THIS IS SO CUTE I AM GOING TO SOB

holds them during his meetings. could literally be planning to go to battle or smth, and one of his kids comes in. he just puts them on his lap before continuing with battle strategy. he was just meant to be a dad. he's so giddy about it. so in love with you, and grateful that you gave him this. you gave him chubby little pups running around the castle, hands up in the air reaching for you both. he just wants more :((( crawling at your feet, in your arms, and more in your belly.

i fear i'm going to crash out if i continue. (will definitely be continuing with more asks later. ✊️)

-🔄❄️

REVERSE ELSA ANON HERE TO GRACE US ALL AGAIN !!! yes pls continue later arF ARF ARR ARF

u read my tags….. stop ily. notifications on too i am truly honored. ANYWAYS… SISTERS SISTERS GATHER ROUND. GATHER ROUND FOR FATHER CREGAN

you are so right btw. because when your water breaks, that’s when it all becomes real to you. yes, you want this babe out, but birth is a scary, painful thing. hearing the stories of men choosing to save the babe instead of the mother (i glance to viserys), or of men being done with their wives after they do their duty has only heightened your worry in having to go through it. cregan would never do that to you, you know this, but the thought is a scary one, and it lingers nonetheless. it doesn’t help that the rational side of your brain isn’t in charge right now. you’re afraid.

so when cregan goes to leave and fetch the maesters, you, not usually one to make demands — find yourself almost yelling one.

you both stand rooted to your spots, looking at the fluid on the floor. he was trying to help you into bed, but apparently your pup had other plans. you’re momentarily paused, cregans arm around your waist, hand enclosed in yours while facing the bed. shock hangs in the air as both you realize what this implies. he moves to remove himself from you.

“I will fetch the—“

“No!”

your tone of voice stops cregan in his tracks. has his brows pinching not in their usual hardness, but concern. he had hardly begun to turn away before you reached for him. he tilts his head to look at you, your own dropped down, gaze fixed on the floor. you look at him, a mix of so many emotions on your face cregan could not begin to name them all. you have a hand over your stomach, the other firmly clasped over his arm.

“Do not go. Please, Cregan. I’m afraid.” he’s never heard you like this before. fearful. you mistake his worry for refusal.

“Please— I ask this of you—“

“You need only ask once.” he reassures.

you sigh, relief flooding your veins at cregan heeding your request. it’s tradition for the husband to remain outside of the birth room, but you’re not sure you can do it without him. cregan only pulls you closer, shouting the name of your sworn sword that has been made to accompany you everywhere since the late terms of your pregnancy. the knights response is instant, opening the door with a hand on the hilt of his sword.

“My Lord.”

“Fetch the maesters, Ser. The babe is coming.”

the knight only hesitates with shock, before bowing with the ghost of a smile on his face and running to do as commanded. the entire castle has been waiting on your pups arrival, you both included.

eventually, the maesters arrive — and in tow with them, an army of midwives and your usual ladies in waiting. cregan stands at the foot of the bed, far enough to be out of the way, but close enough to be at your beck and call. they’re attentive, maesters setting up their various herbs & medicines as your ladies in waiting prepare the room itself, your midwives attuned to your every move.

one of the youngest maesters, new in his craft, looks at cregans unwavering form with hesitation. he swallows, and begins to speak before one of the elder maesters can stop him.

“My Lord, it is tradition—“

“Your Lady Stark does not wish it,” he says, looking at the young maester. “So it shall not be.”

the man only nods, returning to his work with his head low. the other people in the room, who have served under cregan for years, know when lord & lady stark come out to quiet themselves & get to work.

the labor is long, and the birth difficult, but cregan is there every step of the way. eventually, hours upon hours later, your pup enters the world — kicking and screaming.

“A boy, Lord Stark!”

cregans heart skips a beat. a boy. an heir.

before you know it you have three. two boys, and one girl. cregan melts into the father role like he was made for it, and every time you get the gift of watching him interact with your kids, you get more and more convinced it is so.

watching them hang off his back, giggles falling from their lips, stretched in a wide smile as his much larger arms come to support under their legs. the view of it from behind makes you laugh, each & every time. cregans back almost swallows your kids whole, their tiny frames dwarfed in comparison. even so, he handles them with a gentleness most wouldn’t expect from the wolf of the north. alike to how you might handle a butterfly landing on your fingertip, or the delicacy used to handle newborn foals.

cregan verses them in the culture of the north, along with its stories. tales of vampire direwolves, the old gods & weirwood trees, and the stories cregan himself was told as a child. he’s careful to not scare them too much, but sometimes, other people can get carried away. a guard or one of the men on his council letting a frightening tale about the others slip, resulting in them asking to sleep with you and cregan for the night. of course, you oblige every time, generous in your reassurances that the others are no match for Ice — or for their father.

your daughter has him wrapped around her finger. pleas of staying up just a little longer, or riding just down that trail are almost always obliged. he can’t help it, when she looks up at him with those big pleading eyes of hers — the ones that are akin to yours. asking him sweetly if they could please check for any leftover lemon cakes. it’s late, she should be asleep, but cregan can’t help himself. opening the door in a way so it won’t creak, hushing her giggles and buying the cooks silence as they get a late night snack.

and yeah, when one of his pups stumble into the council meeting, he doesn’t turn them away. he picks them up to slot them on his lap, and the stern look on his face is all they need to see to know to be quiet if they want to stay. he could be planning anything — from a hunt, to going to the winter town himself to take care of a group of men intent on causing havoc. it could lead to bloodshed, but your kids don’t seem to hear that part, just content being with their father.

cregan wouldn’t trade this life for anything. he loves his pups, and he’s so in love with you. passing by each other during the day, and cregan always stops you, pulling you to him to slot his lips against yours — no matter how busy he is. he can’t help it, you’re just so lovely, and you’ve given him so much. he thinks of you every time he looks at your pups, and he feels his heart skip a beat in his chest. seeing your pups throw snowballs at each other, and he can’t resist, pulling you close & bending to connect your lips with his. you melt into him every time.

[strawbeerossi]

Only Friends

Pairing: Gender Neutral!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You and Spencer are best friends who act like anything but.

Content/Warnings: Oblivious mutual pining, kissing, lap sitting, teasing friends, cute little love confession at the end.

Word Count: 1.3K

Anon Request: hiii oki req (if u want pls take ur time) i think this is prob OOC butttttt spence + reader being in love and they don’t even realize it but they still kiss/ cuddle when they hang out and stuff and just say “we’re really close is all” “best friends kiss!” and stuff..

Navigation || Criminal Minds Masterlist || Request

🏷️ @kr-1-sta @iluvreid @nervousmoongiver @multifandom-on-the-side @ferrjulie

Affection in friendships aren’t always the same. Some friends hugged, some friends rarely talked yet maintained a healthy friendship, some friends even showed the smallest bit of intimacy due to their comfortability.

You and Spencer were just a tad different. You two would cuddle, share brief pecks on the lips, as well as sometimes shower together whenever you were in a rush on a case and got a brief break.

It wasn’t anything inherently romantic or sexual, just something that came easy. The team was highly convinced you both had a secret relationship. Which was fair enough, however no matter how many explanations, they never seemed to be enough.

Tonight the team was having a small watch party for a new show at Penelope’s apartment. She’d been so desperate for the team to have something like a show they watched together, or special games to play together. Nobody could really say no.

You had arrived with a handful of snacks just an hour prior, helping one of your favorite coworkers set up her apartment for the night ahead. As expected, it turned from you helping to the bubbly blonde interrogating you over the aspect of a potential relationship.

“We aren’t dating, Pen.” Your head shook as you were filling a bowl with pretzels, taking it to the table in order to place it in the available space surrounded by other snacks. “I saw you guys kiss before you left the office yesterday! What kind of friends kiss each other on the lips?? If this is normal, we need to make Derek aware because I am missing out.” Penelope huffed out of frustration. “Mark my words, I will get to the bottom of this. When I find out that you are secretly dating, I will bring all of the hurt!” The blonde held up her fist while narrowing her eyes in your direction.

By the grace of all things holy, it wasn’t long until the team had slowly begun to show up. There were no more interrogations, not yet anyway. As everyone was piling up on the couch, there was very limited room for you as you walked out of the kitchen. “Fuck.” You groaned, arms crossed. “I am not sitting on the floor!”

“You can sit with me.” Spencer spoke up from his spot at the far end of the couch, his shoulders shrugging as his hand patted his thighs to offer you the spot in his lap. “Come on! This is a family friendly show! None of that.” Emily groaned, which had you rolling your eyes as you were heading over to sit yourself on your best friend’s lap.

“It’s not a big deal.” You protested her dramatics while your body was leaning into Spencer’s chest, your body snuggling closer to his as the show began at its scheduled time. However instead of enjoying the programme, you were too busy ignoring all the curious stares from your friends. “Come on!” You huffed while pushing yourself to sit up. “What is the big deal? You’re all staring like we are animals in a zoo.” In all honesty, you were annoyed with the way people stared. You were friends, doing platonic things.

“Look. Kid, I hate to say it but you two are definitely a little too close for what friends should be. What kind of friends do you know that kiss each other? And yes, I know, they are pecks. I’m just saying.” Derek put his hands up as he broke the silence.

“It’s not a crime to have a crush on one another or to date one another.” JJ added soon after while letting her shoulders shrug. “We aren’t dating though.” Spencer confirmed everything you’ve been preaching while looking at the group in confusion. “Spencer, you haven’t eaten any snacks tonight because all of our hands have been in the bowl. It makes no sense to me that you’d kiss her considering the mouth has like a bajillion germs.” Penelope added.

“Well, the mouth has over a billion different germs and we don’t know the exact amount.” He corrected as he looked up at you for help. “I assumed we were normal?” He spoke up while you nodded in agreement. “I thought we were, too.” You huffed while leaning against his chest.

“It’s not even the hugging, kissing, and lap sitting. You guys just look so head over heels from an outside perspective. I mean, you hang out together all the time, you always room together, plus you guys go out on dates. You may not look at it that way but come on. You are both profilers. How do you not pick up on how you feel about one another?” Emily asked while frowning softly.

The more they were talking and giving actual points, the more you were thinking over the course of your friendship with Spencer. You’d always been close, even after your first initial meeting when you joined the team. You could remember how shocked the team was because the typically quiet and socially awkward genius was the first one to welcome you. You’d managed to become close friends over the course of two weeks. The first time Spencer even hugged you was after a case where he’d been put in harm's way. He came to you for comfort. You.

The first time you started your pecks on the lips, it was due to a complete accident when you tried to kiss his cheek but his head turned to face you. It just seemed.. Right. No matter how flustered you both were or how you felt butterflies in your belly, you just dismissed it. You being lost in thought was concerning enough for Spencer. “Hey. Do you wanna step outside?” His voice pulled you out of your thoughts, your head nodding. “Yeah, please head out with me.”

He helped you to your feet before his hand was gently holding yours, leading you out of the room.

“How much do you wanna bet that they are gonna actually kiss out there?” Aaron spoke up after being silent a majority of the night, the team turning to the unit chief who normally wouldn’t have inserted himself. “I’ll take those odds,” Derek smirked while getting his wallet.

Out in the hallway, you had your arms crossed as you looked away from Spencer. “I know that we are best friends and I promise you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. I just really want you to tell me one thing,” You spoke while turning your head back to face him. “Did you ever, at any point, have feelings for me? Be honest.”

The words had Spencer’s face bright red, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’ve always thought you were amazing.” He spoke while offering a shy smile. “I just didn’t want things to get weird. I like our friendship and the relationship that we have isn’t something that could be ruined. Dating friends can get messy and.. I don’t wanna live a life without you in it. I can’t even fathom a reality where you aren’t here.” He responded.

“So you did?”

“Y-yeah. I just didn’t want-”

Your hands were gripping his upper arms while you were gently shaking him. “Why didn’t you say anything?!” You asked while staring at him with wide eyes. “I’ve always been fond of you!” You added, his surprised look making you laugh softly. “God. How are we profilers?”

“You know, I’m not so sure. I think we are rusty.” Spencer responded, a little chuckle leaving his lips. “So.. Is there a chance? You know.. Us?” He asked softly while you nodded. “I do think there’s a good chance.” You responded while Spencer sighed in relief. “So it won’t be weird if I do this.”

“Do what?”

His hands were gently cupping your cheeks, taking every opportunity to press his lips against yours, much different than you were both used to but it carried the same feeling as all the little pecks have all this time. It was right. Like you were meant to be together.

“I’m pretty sure they are running bets. Do we tell them we kissed or pretend like nothing happened?”

“I want Derek to lose his money in that scenario, so let’s not tell them yet.” Spencer chuckled.

[wheeboo]

big spoon, little spoon | boo seungkwan

SYNOPSIS. in which ask your boyfriend if he wants to be big spoon or little spoon. PAIRING. boo seungkwan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. kissing (in the dark lmao), one curse word, terms of endearment, just boo being rlly affectionate :< WORD COUNT. 1.2k

requested from anon: congrats on 2k lovely!!! ❤️❤️❤️ for ur event may i please req seungkwan + #6 list one? thank u ahhhhh and congrats again - #6: "I don't think I have ever felt safer than in your arms."

notes: thank u my love !! i hope u enjoy <3 i had too much fun writing this pls 😭😭

join the 2k celebration!

"Okay, so big spoon or little spoon tonight?"

Seungkwan just freezes from where he stood in the bathroom doorway, toothbrush still dangling at his lips with bits of foam at the corners of his mouth. You're literally staring at him like you're waiting for him to answer and that it wasn't actually a rhetorical question.

"Are you asking me𑁋okay, wait." He marches back into the bathroom to hastily spit and rinse out his mouth, before coming back out with determination in his step. "Are you asking me if I want to be big spoon or little spoon?"

There's a playful lift to your lips as you sit down on the edge of his bed, and Seungkwan can very much see that slight mischievous look to your features. He can already feel the heat of the moment shoot up towards his ears, and he prays that the room is dark enough to hide it.

"Yeah, I am. Since, you know, we always sorta switch around every day," You say, nodding with a teasing grin. "And, well... I'm being considerate, as your partner and all. I gotta know all your preferences..."

God, Seungkwan feels like he's sinking into quicksand at his feet. Are you really at his place every day? He hardly ever thought about how often you were here, like how these nightly rituals had practically become routine now. He swears his heart does a little happy flip-flop at the thought.

It all started with movie night dates that bled into you two eating breakfast together, dinner dates that turned into you helping wash dishes at three in the morning, and then that particular comfortable silence that settled completely at this point. Every day, there always seems to be another reason for you to stay a little longer, another excuse to linger until the streetlights cast an orange glow through his curtains.

And Seungkwan knows he won't ever get tired of it𑁋he won't ever get tired of having you around. Not now. Not anytime soon. Not ever.

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling whatever embarrassment he had in his chest start to dissipate and replaced by a rush of warmth.

"Okay, well, as your very considerate and caring boyfriend..." He crosses his arms together. "what do you prefer?"

You purse your lips together, as if deep in thought. You didn't mind being either little or big spoon, but the thought of Seungkwan having his arms around you right now𑁋if you could describe it𑁋felt like being wrapped by a warm cloud, a feeling of pure, weightless security that chases away all possible worries.

But it isn't just about the comfort, although it's certainly a big part of it. It was the feeling of being safe and cherished, completely enveloped in his embrace. It was the feeling of home.

A slow smile graces across your face.

"I'll take little spoon," You answer gleefully, already crawling more onto his bed and tucking yourself under the covers with a little wiggle. Whatever façade Seungkwan had been putting up crumbles completely at the sight. A blush creeps up his neck, barely visible in the dim light, but his smile widens.

He chuckles softly as he joins you on the bed, slipping under the covers beside you. After flicking the lampshade off, he carefully maneuvers himself right beside you until he feels your warmth hit his skin. Then he slowly circles his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to his body, with your back meeting his chest. A low, contented hum leaves his lips as he simply holds you.

You wriggle in slightly, and he adjusts his hold, letting an arm curve over your stomach and the other one under your body to pull you even closer, fingers momentarily brushing against the hem of your shirt. You feel your legs entangle together under the blanket, and you swear the world gets smaller, quieter.

Seungkwan thinks you fit perfectly in his arms; it's like you've always belonged there.

"Comfortable?" he asks, voice muffled against you.

Your chest rises up and down with a soft sigh. "Mhm..."

The moments that pass are purely silence as he continues to hold you. You could probably fall asleep at this second, yet you feel the way Seungkwan's hand drifts lower from your waist, tracing gentle circles on the fabric of your shirt above your stomach. It's light, just barely there, but it sends a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

And then you feel him moving around behind you, breath tickling your skin, before his lips press a brief, tender kiss to the nape of your neck.

Maybe you can sense the small smile to his face right afterwards, too.

"You're so soft," he mutters, but there's a bit of tentativeness to his tone.

Your heart squeezes tightly in your chest. "I𑁋Aren't we supposed to be trying to sleep?"

"Sorry," Seungkwan apologises, but you can still hear the smile in his voice. He presses another gentle kiss to your neck, then draws back, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly. "Just like holding you like this."

The giggle that leaves you is shaky, nervous, as if there's a small, timid butterfly trapped in your ribcage struggling to take flight. He can probably hear the way your heart is pounding like a damn drum right now, but he doesn't comment on it. Thank goodness.

A thought crosses your mind, and it takes you a minute to cave into flipping yourself over to face him. A groan escapes him from the sudden change in position, but he quickly settles. The two of you can't really see each other that well since the room was basically suspended in darkness, but you can clearly feel his presence beside you, all comforting and familiar.

"I like being held by you too," You confess quietly, each syllable laced with your own hesitancy. "I... I don't think I have ever felt safer than in your arms, to be honest."

The sound of Seungkwan's breath hitching echoes throughout the room. Are the walls closing in? He's not hallucinating or imagining any of this, right? He wishes he could pinch himself, but he's busy holding you, and you're the only thought filling his mind right now.

He leans in closer, ever so slowly. He can see the faint outline of your face thanks to the sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains.

But just as his lips are about to meet yours, you feel a sudden contact at the tip of your nose. You flinch a little, scrunching your nose up for a second, and Seungkwan pulls back immediately with a gasp.

"Oh my go𑁋did I just𑁋" He stammers frantically, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, uh..."

"Baby," You call out affirmingly, aimlessly bringing a hand up to cup his face through the darkness. Then you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, or specifically... the corner of his mouth. Close enough, anyway. "There we go."

Seungkwan just blinks, eyelashes batting furiously as he feels you shrink back into his hold. This time, you place your head at the crook of his neck, breathing fanning against his skin and making him shiver in your hold, even though he's supposed to be the big spoon.

"Let's go to sleep," You murmur lowly, and if he wasn't used to how pretty your voice sounds when you're tired by now, he should really get his shit together.

And so, Seungkwan just secures his hold around you, but not before mouthing a set of three words that he knows you can't see in the darkness, but hopes you can feel in his embrace.

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[paarksunghoon]

hello omg i love love LOVE deep honey, which is rare cus i usually do not touch fluff at all but smth abt the way u wrote got to me. i was wondering that in case u wanted an idea, u could write abt sunghoon rushing over to take care of his sick girlfriend? :3 just a thought or any headcannons u have on that would do fine but if u wanna turn it into a drabble or fic that's good too, especially if it's a continuation of deep honey

anyways, that is all from me, have a good day!!!

thank you so much :’) for all of my nsfw drabbles and content, I really enjoy writing the softer kind of stories. switched up the request just a little. consider this a token of my appreciation for your kindness. xx

ps this is what I’m imaging him wearing

***

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that nothing good could ever happen when you text someone past 2AM.

Both existential and physical dread consume you the second you open your texts and see a plethora of unread messages due to your current state of being. You’ve been bedridden for what feels like years but it’s only been a few of days. It’s technically Sunday morning and technically you should be fast asleep, especially since you’d taken medication to help you rest throughout the night. But seems like your body has other plans for you.

Tossing and turning won’t do either. Your head feels much better than it has for the past two days. You’d taken two days off or classes because of intense migraines paired with what seems like onset sickness due to it being flue season. Guilt over missing classes and groveling to your professors (even if they extended grace and told you to rest up) ate you alive, only ebbing away when you closed your eyes and slept.

Your roommate has been away because of a family event and what was once a promising weekend full of relaxation and the apartment to yourself is now a time for you to wallow in your misery. You’ve gone through countless tissues and have slept more in the past few days than in your entire life. It feels like your head might as well be cut off with how many problems your eyes, nose, and throat are giving you.

To pass the time, social media distracts you for a few minutes and you catch glimpses of what your friends have been up to. Partying. Studying. Eating at the cafeteria. All of these are mundane events you took for granted because you’d love to be anywhere but rotting away in your apartment. You’d rather studying for a midterm over feeling like you can’t move without losing your breath.

You take this time to catch up on texts as well. There are so many what remain unread by you and guilt crawls up your spine as you begin to reply to everything.

hi riki!! sorry I haven’t replied yet. I’ve been sick all weekend :/ I wish I could’ve gone to jake’s game with u bc it looked so fun ☹️

jungwon ur your cat is so cute omg…please send more vids. also sorry for replying late im sick lol

sunoo I swear to god if you watch another episode without me, I’m gonna beat your ass whenever I recover

yes, mom. I’m resting as much as I can! sorry I haven’t responded sooner. I still feel sick

heeseung do u think sunghoon would be weirded out if i text him right now. pls advise 😁

Heeseung immediately reads the message and the text bubble appears straight away. He’s one of your closest friends in university who always happens to be friends with Park Sunghoon, the guy you’ve been talking to for the past month and a half.

heeseung: Nah not weird. He’d probably like hearing from you

heeseung: He was asking about you earlier today and said you haven’t been talking to him as much

you: looking at my phone made me nauseous :/

heeseung: You should probably tell him that bc he’s been staring at his phone all day

you: soooo it wouldn’t be weird if I texted him out of the blue rn?? usually we don’t like…start conversations so late

heeseung: You’re overthinking. Just text him and if he doesn’t reply then he’s asleep and will text you in the morning

you: I’m scared of fucking it up

heeseung: There’s nothing to fuck up. If he gets mad that you took care of yourself (he won’t be) then he’s the one who fucked up

you: ugh when did u become the voice of reason

heeseung: :)

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard after you’ve opened Sunghoon’s text. You can imagine his slight pout when you think about how he’d react when he realizes you haven’t texted him back, which makes you feel even more guilty than you already are.

You’re not really sure how you started talking to him, let alone befriended Heeseung to the point where he started inviting you to hang out with him and his group of friends. Heeseung had originally been a study partner for a shared class back when the two of you were sophomores. It’s been a couple of years since then and now most of your conversations consist of TikTok jokes and Heeseung having to deal with you pining over one of his friends.

Sunghoon is every bit of cool you can imagine. He was so quiet when you first met him, residing in his oversized sweater since it was approaching the beginning of autumn. Heeseung invited you to a local bar on a Friday night after midterms and said your first drink would be on him if you made it before last call, knowing very well you were likely getting ready to slip underneath your blankets and call it a night.

He was right as always. You showed up wearing jeans and an old shirt with a jacket that was too big for your body. You’d made somewhat of an effort to look presentable since you’d be hanging out with his friends near campus and would rather not look like you’d gotten rolled over by a locomotive. It was there you met Sunghoon for the first time. He was so quiet that you barely heard him talk until an hour into hanging out with him, but that’s when you learned that he was someone you needed to get to know before he’d show you his loud, boisterous personality.

The more you hung out with him, the more you started to picture yourself with Sunghoon, away from the group you started to call your friends too. You’d only see him when Heeseung invited you out or if you bumped into someone else while Sunghoon was in tow with them. Neither of you seemed to cross paths otherwise and even then, Sunghoon was a bit too timid to approach you first and start a conversation.

Part of you wondered if you were ever too bold when you’d get drunk with him and your friends. You were loud, full of laughter and affection that none of your friends were surprised every time you shouted compliments across the tables and declared your love for the little group you considered to be your family away from home. Heeseung had gotten used to it pretty quickly and so did the others, albeit it took a while for their ears to stop glowing red every time you’d pull them into a drunken hug.

Maybe you sent a little too far with Sunghoon, who immediately tensed when your arms wrapped around his shoulders the first time you let your inhibitions down fully. A few beers and shots in, and Heeseung was anticipating your drunken rant about how much you love the little life the five of you had created and hoped that it would continue even after you all graduate.

Sunghoon always looked a bit intimidating with his dark, thick eyebrows and shielded his wandering eyes. He always looked like he knew what he wanted and his grace always made you think twice about what you’d say to him. Although, you knew this was the beginning of an onset crush that wouldn’t remain hidden for long, let alone when you weren’t sober.

So you’d thrown your arms around Sunghoon’s shoulder and told him how happy you were that Heeseung introduced the two of you. While you try not to think about that moment too much, you recall telling Sunghoon that he was slowly starting to become one of your favorite people because of how funny he is when people least expect it. You liked that he was so kind to his friends and that he was so confident in himself, and that you wished you could be a little more like him.

You also said he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. It was a sobering moment because he looked at you like you’d grown two heads and his shoulders felt like they might’ve been pushing you off of his body.

Stumbling with consistent apologies, none of your mutual friends seemed to notice what was happening behind them. You can picture the look on his face when your mind crosses to this moment, how he’d looked at you with bewilderment with his mouth ajar. Sunghoon didn’t say anything and you took that cue to leave him alone and head to the bar, where you hoped distance would make this night seem less tragic than it was.

When morning came around, you were the only person in your shared group chat who declined getting a late morning breakfast due to your embarrassment. Even during the next weekend, when Jake opened up his apartment for a casual hang out, you were the only person who didn’t show up, citing work and study stresses keeping you away from your friends.

Heeseung knew those were merely excuses.

“Cut the shit, Y/N. Are you okay? Did one of the guys do anything to make you uncomfortable?” The worst laced in his tone made you feel guilty for having him think the worse of people he knew before he met you.

“No, nothing like that. I think I’m the one who fucked up and made them uncomfortable.”

“Well clearly not since Jake invited you to his place. What’s going on? Do you want me to come over?”

The last thing you expected from Heeseung was to see him double over in laugher when you explained your predicament, clutching onto your bed like he’d fall to the ground if he didn’t. You’re sure that fit of laugher gave him a new set of abs.

“Sunghoon wasn’t weirded out. He texted me and asked if you were okay.” Heeseung pulled his phone out of his pocket to show you, leaving you in a cloud of confusion. “He probably likes you. Sunghoon’s a natural with girls even if he doesn’t realize they’re flirting with him. I think he likes you too because he’s acting really awkward because he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

That night left you with more question than answers. You considered texting Sunghoon and asking if the two of you could talk, but you didn’t want to make him even more uncomfortable and tell him what Heeseung told you in fear of putting your friend in an awkward position. So you let the discomfort settle and braved seeing him the next time one of your friends invited you out.

Which, to no one’s surprise, was the weekend after Jake’s get together. Seoul’s autumn carnival was in its third weekend by the time the five of you were able to find adequate time to ride every rollercoaster and eat until your stomachs caved in. You loved the fair and were the first person to buy an admission ticket. Poor Jay, who wasn’t the biggest fan of big rides in the first place, tagged along with Jake every time he insisted on it. You tried your best to keep some distance between yourself and Sunghoon, even if Heeseung said you were being ridiculous. You’d chosen to stick by him until Sunghoon volunteered to help you pick up the food trays when you lost a game of rock-paper-scissors.

“I’m sorry that I acted weird that night,” he said, cutting the silence as the two of you waited for your order. He didn’t have to explain. You knew what he was talking about. “Heeseung said you felt bad for making me feel uncomfortable but I need you to know you didn’t make me feel that way.”

That was the longest sentence he’d ever said to you, let alone it being the first time he initiated a conversation with you. He watched as you stood with your eyes wide and mouth parted like you wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it.

“I think you just caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you to say nice things about me. I didn’t realize we were that close because you’d been affectionate with everyone but me up until that night.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I was, uh, flustered.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He averted your gaze and looked at his shoes momentarily before he looked back at you. “I liked what you said. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

You laughed at the awkwardness dissipating. “I thought I crossed a line, or something. You just sat there and I thought I fucked up by touching you.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t. I…I liked it a lot.” You tried to hide a grin by keeping your bubbling excitement under wraps failed miserably. Sunghoon smiled too, offering to carry most of the trays back to the table where your friends were too hungry to talk for the next ten minutes.

The memory brings you back to the present where your thumbs hover the keyboard. You start to read back the conversation between the two of you and feel those butterflies erupt in your stomach for the umpteenth time. The two of you have talked about anything and everything. Nothing is off limits. So why is texting him to let him know you’ve been sick for the past few days so difficult for you?

you: hi

you: sorry I haven’t texted a lot in the past few days. I’ve been having migraines and now I’ve caught a cold ):

you: im sorry for texting so late too

He texts immediately.

sunghoon: You don’t have to be sorry. Are you feeling better now?

sunghoon: Actually don’t answer that

Your phone rings.

“Hey,” you say with your phone propped against your ear. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’m the only who’s calling you when you’re sick, so I’m technically the one bothering you.” His laugh on the other line makes you smile a little too hard. “I was really worried. None of the guys heard from you so I figured you needed some space.”

“Unfortunately. I had to skip a few classes because it hurt to stand up. I’m pretty sure I’ve slept more this past week than I have in the last month.”

“I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

“I feel bad that I haven’t been able to talk to you.”

As if Sunghoon could sense you pouting, he clicks his tongue and reassures you. “It’s fine, Y/N. I’d probably do the same thing. I can’t imagine how much pain you’ve been in.”

“I would honestly rather study and take a million midterms than go through this again. I feel like someone just took their shoe off of my head.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. Can I bring you anything? Medicine, maybe?”

You cough a little. “No, but thank you. My friend dropped off a lot of NyQuil and other stuff to help me. It’s working…kind of. Still feel like shit, though.”

“…Can I come over? To help you with your sickness, of course. I can bring you soup.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You frantically rise from your bed amidst his words and realize there are tissues on the ground and dirty clothes strewn everywhere because of your lack of energy. Your living room must be a mess, too, and this would also be the first time Sunghoon would see you without any makeup on.

“I want to. But I mean, only if you’re up for it. I don’t want to stress you out since you’re sick. I just want to help make you feel better. That…and I miss you.”

Sunghoon’s never been so direct before. Even though the two of you have been talking for a while, neither of you have been so forward about it. Conversations are always subtly flirty to the point where the effervescent feeling simmers just underneath the surface. The two of you have hung out without the rest of your friends and have been alone before, but neither one of you has gone so far as you be so bold about the other.

“I miss you too,” you whisper into the phone.

“Give me thirty minutes. I’ll come with soup.”

He hangs up and with a newfound sense of urgency, you make your bed and throw away any stray trash. You put your dirty laundry in the hamper, which is piled high and untouched. It’ll be a problem for when you’re not sick.

The living room isn’t too bad. You straighten furniture and throw away empty takeout containers and wash a few utensils. The tasks don’t feel as draining as they did a few days ago and you’re starting to regain a little bit of your breath.

True to his word, Sunghoon arrives thirty minutes after he said he would. You open the door and look at him. He’s wearing blue hoodie and sweatpants with specs that make him look significantly more attractive than you’re used to.

“Hi,” Sunghoon says with a gentle smile. “I missed you.”

You bite your lip and blurt out your first thought. “You look really good in those glasses.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “Thank you. Can I come in?”

“Right, right.” You step aside and he follows you into your apartment. He takes his shoes off and places them neatly by the shoe rack.

“I might need to reheat this. I got it from that place near my apartment. You know, the one with the yellow banner?”

“I love that place.”

He smiles at you. “I know. Can I heat up some soup for you?”

When you nod, Sunghoon moves to the correct cabinet and pulls out everything he needs. It astounds you because he’s only ever been to your apartment twice before, both times with your other friends in tow. It dawns on you that it’s the first time the two of you are alone in your space. You’re touched that he remembers where your things are.

He beckons you to sit on the counter in front of the steaming bowl and the aroma of spices makes your mouth water. You haven’t been able to eat consistently in the past few days, surviving on bland foods like bread and crackers to sustain your health because anything else made you feel sicker than you were. The steam feels good against your skin and you dig in right away.

Sunghoon pulls your hair back when it gets close to the rim and holds it for you while you lap up the soup. It seems as though you’re hungrier than you thought because you sit there wordlessly, shoveling liquid into your mouth while Sunghoon watches.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I must look like a zoo animal.”

“You’re sick, Y/N. You have nothing to apologize for. The first meal you can stomach is the best one.” It’s like he gets you. Sunghoon continues to hold your hair back until you’re finished. He washes the bowl and spoon, and puts it back where they belong.

Sunghoon turns around and looks at you under the ambient lighting you and your roommate put up in lieu of the overhead lights. It feels like he’s inspecting you and you try really hard not to think about the fact that you don’t feel presentable in this moment.

“Your apartment feels very you,” Sunghoon says. “I like all of the green furniture and the art on the wall.”

“My roommate picked the decor out but I’m starting to understand why she loves art so much.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, looking at you. “Would you want to go to an art museum with me?”

“I’d really like that.”

Sunghoon pulls you by the hand to your couch and you try your best not to feel flustered with his touch. He sits you down on the cushion and immediately you feel like you need to be hyper vigilant because he’s looking around the apartment and you’re wondering if he can see the messes you see.

“Do you have a blanket? We could watch some TV. Or I could go. I don’t know.”

“Don’t go.” You say it too quickly but Sunghoon’s shoulders relax. “The blankets are beside the couch.”

He drapes it over you, leaving himself to fend for the cold. Although you’re sure he’s pretty warm, you open up the blanket and invite him to share it with you.

This is new territory. You two have just been talking. But Sunghoon isn’t deterred. He slots himself next to you and doesn’t shy away when he feels your arm pressed against him.

“Sorry for the mess. And for, well…” He watches you gesture to your face, which is undoubtedly red with dark circles underneath your eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. I still like you.”

You aren’t used to him being so upfront like this. He watches you with easy eyes, the kind of feeling that makes you believe what he says. Sunghoon is pretty reserved when it comes to these types of things and you often find yourself being the one to push him towards his bolder side. But even though you feel flustered by his words and underneath his stare, you like this newer side of him.

“I’m such a mess.”

Sunghoon watches you push your forehead into his shoulder in an attempt to hide yourself from him. He smiles at your antics and loves the feeling of your body on his. He’s been hesitant to do things like hold your hand or kiss your cheek in fear or overstepping a boundary. He doesn’t know what came over him when he held your hair back from falling into the hot soup. He knows very well that he could’ve asked where you kept your hair ties, but helping you when he knows you need it felt like the right thing to do.

Now, he wonders if you’re growing bolder with him too. You let your forehead rest against his hoodie as you take deep breaths. He hears you sniffle a few times and nearly coos at the mere thought of you suffering from your sickness. When you pull yourself away from him, the tip of your nose is slightly runny and your eyes look a bit more red than usual.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

He bites his lip. “You could look worse.” You try not to let your cheeks rise in heat.

“You’re just being nice.”

Sunghoon laughs and shakes his head. He could never lie about how he feels towards you. “Nope. You still look really cute.” He watches the gears work inside your head and locates the TV remote when you don’t say anything. “What do you want to watch?”

“I dunno.”

“C’mon, you must’ve been watching TV while you were cooped up here.”

You shake your head. “Migraine, remember? Felt like my eyes were gonna burst.”

This time, he coos out loud. Sunghoon puts on a show you’ve mentioned enjoying in the past and hopes he chose correctly. You seem to be mellowing out and paying attention to the screen in front of you until you start breathing heavily. It’s not until he hears you try to silence a small coughing fit that he shoots up from his seat and pours you a glass of water.

“Here.” Sunghoon doesn’t let you hold the glass. Instead, he beckons your mouth open by placing the rim between your lips and lets you swallow the water, tilting it up until you’ve consumed all of it. He wipes the excess water from the corners of your mouth with his thumb and looks down at you with concern. “Do you have any tea? I can make you some. Hopefully that’ll soothe your throat.”

“Stupid medicine isn’t working,” you grumble. “I might as well perish.”

“Tea, baby,” Sunghoon says, the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. You almost don’t notice it. “Where do you keep your tea and honey?”

“Cabinet beside the fridge.”

Sunghoon comes back a few minutes later with piping hot chamomile tea with honey. You don’t know how he does it, anticipating your every need and putting just enough honey where it doesn’t feel like you’re stuffing your throat with the sweet nectar. You sip on it slowly as he situates himself back underneath the blanket and keeps his eyes on the television while you try to calm your erratic heartbeat.

Eventually, the episode finished and it’s almost four in the morning when you start to get sleepy. Sunghoon hears you yawning beside him and does his best not to grin like a lovesick idiot when you push your body against his in an attempt to get comfortable. You’re holding the empty cup loosely in your hands when your eyes start to droop and as much as Sunghoon would love to stay like this, he knows it’ll be better for you to sleep in your own bed with your back against the mattress.

“Baby,” Sunghoon whispers. He grabs the mug from your hands and sets it on the coffee table. “I think you should sleep in your bed. You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up.”

“But you’re so warm.”

He bites back a smile. “Thank you, but you’re gonna wake up with back pain and I know you’ll be mad that you didn’t sleep with pillows.”

He’s right and you know it but that doesn’t stop you from letting a whine slip past. Sunghoon doesn’t complain when you lean on him for support (or rather, you push your full weight onto him because you cannot be bothered with physical tasks at this late hour). Instead, he holds your waist with his arm and guides you into your bedroom from his memory of coming here a couple times before now.

Despite this, he’s never been inside your room. You’ve always kept the door closed but as he opens it, Sunghoon completely melts at how your bedroom is so utterly you. The dark green comforter hugs your queen-sized bed and a mountain of pillows cover the top near the bed frame. Your desk is an organized mess of notebooks, pens, and highlighters you carry with you during study sessions. Photographs in pretty frames decorate your walls along with posters of your favorite music and films.

He spots a picture of the two of you from that day at the amusement park when Heeseung insisted on taking a photo since the lighting was “perfect.” Sunghoon suspected that wasn’t the case but let him take it anyhow. He always considered that to be his first official memory with you. Knowing you might feel the same makes Sunghoon’s heart flutter.

“Let’s get you into bed, yeah?”

His soft touches make you fall much deeper into your tiredness. The mattress below you feels too good to be true as Sunghoon opens the blankets for you to crawl underneath. He watches you carefully as you scoot to one side and make yourself comfortable, wondering if you’re enjoying the side of him that wants to pamper you.

When you’re all tucked in with the blankets underneath your chin, Sunghoon can’t help but lean down and brush a few stray hair strands from your face. He caresses your cheek and holds himself back despite your lips being right in front of him. Instead, he settles for rubbing your soft cheek with his thumb before leaving.

Except, you reach out and grab onto his wrist. “Where are you going?”

His looks back at you in the dim light. “Home, baby. I’ll let you sleep.”

The pout you’re wearing is tearing him limb from limb. “I don’t want you to go home.”

“No?”

You shake your head. “Please…I haven’t seen you at all this week.” Sunghoon hears the strain in your voice and he isn’t sure if you’re awake enough to know what you’re saying. “I-I just want you here with me.”

How could he say no to that?

Sunghoon sits on the empty side of the bed and lets you guide your hand in his bigger one. He watches as you shake your head and he’s about to ask what you mean when you open the blanket.

He feels momentarily guilty when he pulls his hand away from you because he hears you whine again, but he slips off his hoodie to avoid overheating. He’s left in his sweatpants and a loose shirt when sliding into your bed right next to you.

You waste no time and attach yourself to Sunghoon, pushing your body until you’re resting on his chest. He does his best not to let his heartbeat give him away. This is the most he’s ever touched you. At best, he’d brush his hand against yours and waited for the right time to hold it. Today feels like he’s thrown caution into the wind.

Sunghoon puts his glasses on your night table and pulls you close to him, encircling his arms until he finds a comfortable position. Your warm breaths litter his skin and he feels like he could run laps with how happy he is in this moment. You look so cute with your body limp against his. He loves that you’re not hesitant around him anymore and hopes you know just how much he wants you close to him.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Sunghoon says in the dark, unsure if you’re still awake or not.

“What’s your secret?”

Your eyes remain closed, eyelashes covering your beautiful eyes and your cheeks are squished into a pout against his chest. He looks down at you like you’re precious cargo and a rare gem he never wants to let go of.

“I really want to kiss you.”

You don’t say anything. Instead, Sunghoon feels you move your head until you press a kiss against his chest, allowing your lips to linger for a few seconds before reverting back to your original position.

“Kiss me tomorrow.”

Sunghoon hears you snoring soon after.

“Yeah,” he whispers to himself. “I can do that.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[tashid4]

I literally ran over here cuz I just saw a clip of a hiphop dancer and ballet dancer dancing together for the olympics and I'm like OHH??

Perchance hiphop dancer!bakugou and ballet!reader???? I WANT TO KNOW UR THOUGHTS.

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. PLS THIS JUST AWAKENED SMTH IN ME

(SORRY IF THIS TOO LONG???)

You were often training a bit later than the other dancer. You were a perfectionist, your moves needed to be clean, smooth and precise. Ballet was intransigent, one mistake could ruin all of your efforts. That is why you were still in the dancing, you've been in here for hours now and the sun had already set. You did so many pirouettes that your head was spinning. So many jumps your feet were bleeding. But it still wasn't enough. You needed to be perfect. After a particularly hard spin you fall to the ground, your body not able to handle the pressure. Your body couldn't handle the effort your brain wanted to make.

"Damn, that was definitely interesting" a voice came out of nowhere. It was a bit mocking but the tone of his voice made you curious. Deep and cold, you could feel all his confidence through his voice. You turn around to see where the voice was coming from. That is when you first laid your eyes on him. His blonde messy hair were stooding out in the darkness of the room. His cherry red eyes were locked on you and you were scared they might see through the deepest places of your soul. He was way too relaxed compared to you.

"Are you done ? I want to train" it kinda surprised you because you never saw him before. You were here everyday and you know everyone. Moreover, he definitely didn't look like the type to do ballet but you could be wrong. "Oh yeah sorry. I'm leaving" "Good."

You start to pick up your stuff and finally take off your pointe shoes. Since when have you been wearing them ? Probably a few hours now. While you put your things back into your bag, the blonde haired boy

settled in front of the mirror. He was wearing a black tank top, revealing his surprisingly muscular back. And a baggy jean which fell perfectly on his ankles. You couldn't look away from him. There was something about him that made you admiring, it was almost obsessing. When the first notes of music sounded and his body began to move, your jaw almost dropped. It was the first time you saw someone dance like this. Every move was perfect, coordinated but most of all it was passionate. It was almost as if he he didn't have to think about the next step.

At the end of the song, you realised you had been sitting on the floor for almost 5 minutes, not moving an inch, your eyes focused on him. When he noticed you were still here, a smirk appeared on his face.

"Like what you see?" your cheeks immediately turn red. Of course you liked it how could you not. The way he danced was absolutely mesmerizing. He music started again and he went back to his choreography. You had to summon up all your motivation to get up and leave the room, and not only because your feet were hurting like crazy...

For several days afterwards, you trained until your feet were bleeding, until your legs were shaking and until the hiphop boy was back in the room. He was always coming really late, when everybody had already left. It was only you and him at this time of the night. But but your conversations are always very brief. It was only a few words and often it was only him making fun of you for training too hard. But one night, he decided to come earlier. He wanted to see you dance, he wanted to see you really dance. Because everytime, when he entered the room you were too exhausted to perform a simple choreography. He was dying to see your true potential. That is why he showed up at 8pm, bag on his shoulder, when you had just started rehearsing your pirouettes. When he saw you spin like this, he immediately understood why you were so tired every night. They were perfect. The way your legs and arms move was so graceful he'd think you were an angel. He studied you for a very long time, never getting sick of it. He doesn't know why his chest feels so weird, why his heart feels so full when he looks at you dancing with your sheer white skirt.

After a moment you finally realise he's here, you deduce that it's time for you to leave. "I'm sorry. I'm leaving." But when you start to head toward your bag, he grabs your wrist. Your heart skips a beat when you feel his hands against your skin. They're soft, and strong at the same time.

"Wait..."

He went to turn the music back on. When the first notes were heard, both your bodies began to move in rhythm. Your moves where slow, controlled and elegant. His were strong, fast and unpredictable. It was so different yet so similar. Your two bodies sometimes touched, in which case he'd grab your hand and spin you around like you were the most beautiful thing he ever saw. You danced like this for a while, disconnecting your brain, all you could think about was his body moving in time with yours.

When the music stop, you look into his red eyes, losing yourself in it. "Where did you learn to dance like that ?" your question made him smile "I never learned, it's just something i like to do" "I wish I could be as talented as you without needing to train like crazy." He let lout a small laugh, amused by your response. Your faces were only a few inches away and he couldn't prevent his heart from beating way too fast when looking at your eyes. "You don't have to train so hard, just let your body express itself."

"There's actually something my body wants to do, but i'm not sure if it's reasonable" Your tone and the look in your eyes changed when pronouncing this last sentence. Mentally debating with yourself, you were thinking about your next move. Your heart was racing and your face was growing red.

But in the end, the blonde haired boy didn't give you time to think about it. He grabbed the back of your neck and gently glued his lips to yours. Kissing you, silencing all the voices in your head.

[kentopedia]

♰ sent to destroy — dazai osamu

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 5 - fallen angel!dazai

he promises he's not the devil, but he steals your soul with just a kiss.

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, takes place in 1920s for fun ig, actress!reader, alcohol, one mention of suicidal ideation and prostitution by reader, blasphemy, sacrilege, pls don't read this if ur religious & will get offended LMAO, angel fucking (& he has wings), bondage (thru powers), unprotected sex, cunnilingus, corruption kink, possessive sex, softish dazai, mm idk what else — 6.1k

note: i didn't edit this as thoroughly as i normally do so plss ignore any mistakes and i'll love you forever

the speakeasy fills with a thin veil of smoke, coating the room with an intoxicating mix of alcohol and nicotine. it’s a lewd place, full of degenerates and failed actresses like yourself, a crowd of people who don’t belong, but try their best to find a way to keep living. 

it’s a place where women pick up their clients, leading them to the hotel around the corner for a night they certainly won’t be paid enough for. it’s where people drown their miseries in alcohol and hope they won’t wake up in the morning. 

it is, regrettably, the only place you can afford. 

you sit alone at one of the tables, hands shaky from nerves as you smoke another cigarette, contributing just as much to the cloud that suffocates the small room. 

hoards of people make their way downtown for a sip of alcohol, the drink that has so ridiculously been banned, but you are no exception, no angel amongst the sinful devils. 

someone plays a saxophone at the front of the bar, spinning into a graceful melody of jazz that sings out to you, lulls you into an embrace that warms your core. it soothes the anxiety that has lingered with you throughout the day, the reminder that your life is tailspinning. 

you’d failed at landing yet another role, and the acting career you’d packed your bags and moved out for was plummeting. who would accept you now, now that your hopes and dreams had been for naught, now that you’d created a shameful woman of yourself and your family?

the answer was clear; but you were too stubborn too accept it, too desperate to believe that you could be up in the glimmering lights, the brightest silver star the world had ever seen. 

you lean back in your chair, stamping out the cigarette with a sigh as you stand to collect another drink. there’s not much left in your pockets, but you’ve made it work before, and you’ll keep making it work now, scrounging up coins for the relief that came with forgetting. 

the only consolation is the line of women that stand alongside you at the bar, as dejected and miserable as yourself. all of you have been labeled the failures of your families, the ones that bet on a shot in the dark. none of you expected that the road would be easy, certainly not with the way the industry is hasty to pick up only the most beautiful faces… but your ambitions had led you to believe that you, of all people, had had a chance. 

you know your beauty is endless, a sight to be admired, but even that had not been enough to secure your spot in the limelight. 

you thank the bartender as he hands you a drink, and slump back to your table, waiting for the effects of the alcohol to kick in. yet, when you stand at the edge of the table, peer at the chair you’d once been seated in, there is already a man there. 

he gazes at you with a crooked smile, eyes amused as he regards your beaten-down state.

you’ve seen him before—made every attempt not to see him again. you know what they say about him. he’s a wizard, he’s the devil, he’s a god that steals the body of a mortal, waiting to destroy the earth. all bad things, certainly, and with the way your life’s been going, you’d be a fool to get mixed up with someone like him.

still…you know of the things he’s done for people. that miracles have happened for those brave enough to ask for them. 

perhaps, you’re in need of a miracle. 

the dark-haired man leans forward, eyebrows raised as you gawk at him from the other side of the table. “no need to look so frightened,” he says, gesturing towards the other chair. “sit.” 

“i don’t want any company,” you say, straightening, pulling your drink closer to your chest. “i came here to be alone.”

his eyes flash, predatory, as if seeing down through the depths of your soul, to the very desire that lingers within. all of your dreams, your ambitions, and your loneliness are displayed to him, a flashing banner that alerts him easily of everything that’s ever been wrong with you. 

“is that so?” he asks, leaning forward, his voice deepening amongst the chaos of the speakeasy. “then, why have you been staring at me all evening?” 

you can’t help the flush that rushes to your cheek, the heat that covers your entire body. with the crowd of men and women alike that are constantly at his arm, you’d hardly thought he’d notice you.

and though you know what they say about him, he is undeniably beautiful; you’re drawn to him. there is a dark and heavenly beauty about him, something that you fear is too angelic to be of this world. his eyes glimmer almost like diamonds in the candlelit room, skin so flawless that it is nearly luminescent. 

it’s no wonder, really, that you haven’t been able to peel your eyes off of him.

you circle around his question, instead, and set your drink down on the table, lured in either by a false sense of safety, or the confidence of his grin. “i know what you are,” you say, swallowing back the fear that devils often prey on. 

he smiles, indulging you, a lifelong game he has surely played. “and what is that, my dear?” 

the mocking tone sends a cold wave down your spine, even though the sweet name seems to warm you. “i don’t believe i should say it out loud.” you’re not sure what kind of consequence that will bring you. perhaps you do not need to make a deal with him for your soul to be damned, straight to the fiery pits; maybe this conversation is enough, and already, you are on the long list of sinners that will be sent to burn.

“because you believe i am the devil? a demon sent to prey upon you and your soul, drag you down to hell once the contract you’ve made is over?” 

you say nothing, but your silence speaks loudly. 

he sighs, leans back in the chair and looks at you from under thick lashes. “i have no interest in the dealings of those fifty, lesser beings. i find that i can bargain for more enjoyable ventures.” two dark eyes trace over you, swallow you whole as he grazes your curves with his irises, the shape of your breasts under the tightness of your dress, the style shorter to match the current fashions. “so, i think we both may have something the other is interested in. please,” he gestures once more to the seat in front of him, addressing you by your first name—one you never even had to tell him. “sit.” 

nervous, you take the chair, wondering why you aren’t running away, screaming at everyone that there is a monster in your midst, a being that hunts the weak to lure them away from their misery. no wonder he has made himself a frequent customer at this place—there are people drowning in sorrows. one deal with him, and they will wake up in the morning, drowning in riches instead. 

“what do you want from me?” you ask, letting your hands fall to your sides. 

“so eager to get to the best part of my bargain, silly girl. have some patience.” he takes a sip of his own drink, pinning you with his gaze, even above the rim. you squirm under the intensity, but you, even now, can’t look away. “i know you’re struggling to find work. you’ve been here for years, and made pennies to live off of.” he reaches across the table, spins a lock of hair around his finger as he sighs dramatically. “such a shame, really. they must fear the power of your perfection if they refuse to let you shine brighter than the rest of the dull creatures that they call starlets.” 

your heart drops, stutters within the delicate bones of your skeleton before starting again, as you remember that this is how the devil would act, luring you in with sweetly poisoned words full of deceit. “they are talented—”

“they are nothing,” he snarls, banging his fist on the table so loudly that you jump, hands shaking against the beaded skirt of your dress. “you may claim to believe in your own talents, your appearance, but it is all a lie, a facade that you maintain to protect yourself. you are the one holding yourself back, and unless you let me help you, you’ll get nowhere.”

you feel tears burn. “you mean to lure me away from the path of god—”

his eyes narrow. “i mean to free the human race from the chains that religion has bound on them. there is nothing for you in the afterlife but an existence of slavery. one to a malicious devil who only wishes to torment, or one to a god who doesn’t love you.” 

it confuses you, the way he speaks of these beings as if he is not on the side of heaven or hell. as if there could be another option. it seems surreal, a secret that you should not have been told; since the day you were born, you have learned of the path of righteousness, the will of god. 

that is the only way you can obtain a life of peace… yet, there is a creature before you, claiming to offer you a third path, one that doesn’t have you bowing down for a god that won’t answer your prayers. 

it may be foolish, the work of the devil, but you are willing to listen. you are already lured in by this graceful creature with a charming smile and a quick tongue, and you don’t know if it will take much more for you to succumb to him completely. 

already, you have lost your way—you would do anything to escape your unhappiness.

“what is it you’re after, then?” you ask, your voice softer, weaker than you anticipated. 

he laughs, and lets his head tilt sideways, studies you before answering. “my father has cast me out of heaven; i plan to build my own religion of followers, tearing them away from that idiot of a being they call their god. because i am much stronger, much wiser, and the only way that they can find peace after their death is by trusting that i will give it to them.” 

you swallow, twining your fingers together, and think. “you’re… an angel?” 

he waves his hand. “a fallen one.”

there are things about the world that you do not understand, but you know that god has not once help you when you were drowning without a savior. he did not guide a helping a hand when you contemplated dragging a knife across your wrists, and yet, here is something, someone wanting to save you from just that. how is it that god can be more benevolent than those he casts out, when you have seen nothing but the opposite?

“you want me to join you, then?” you ask, drawing your eyebrows together. “if i join you, you’ll give me what i desire?”

“well… that is usually the bargain i offer. however,” he hums, eyes flashing as they scour your body. he looks at you hungrily, like he has never seen a being like yourself. “it has been a while since i’ve seen a human as beautiful as you.” 

you swallow, blinking at him with wide eyes as you grow hot all over. this would not be the first time you’ve sold your body for fame, but never has it been with a man as stunning as the angel before you. “you mean… if i fuck you, you’ll give me whatever i want?” 

he sniffs, repulsed by your suggestion. “always so lewd, you mortals.”

your eyebrows knit together. “but you said—”

“i don’t want you for one night. i want you forever. i want you to swear your body over to me for the rest of your life, let me use it as i wish, bear my children.” he traces your features, grazes a thumb over your jaw, your lip. his eyes are hard, and you swallow, wondering why your stomach flips. “you are meant to be mine.” he smiles, and though you can see the mischief within it, for some reason, there is also softness there as he crosses his arms over the counter. “but if you aren’t interested, then the deal is off the table. i have no need for someone who doesn’t want me in return.” 

you blink back at him, observing the seriousness of his expression, the softness lurking within the pools of his deep brown eyes. perhaps he is a vengeful angel… but he is offering you a life that is much more promising than the one you have now. would it really be so bad to give yourself to him, to spend the rest of your life in his arms, when he promises to give you everything you’ve ever wished for?

“i—” you hesitate, unsure how to even begin to answer the question, when you didn’t quite understand what it was that he needed from you.  

“i’ll give you some time to think about it. after all, it is a decision that will affect the rest of your life.” he stands to his feet, and it is then that you notice there are some eyes on you, the women he typically has hanging off of him watching your interaction with bated breath. “when you have an answer, just call for me. i’ll be there.” 

“wait,” you say, turning in your chair to face him. “i don’t even know your name.” 

“you can call me osamu.” he smiles and winks at you, tucking his jacket closer as he begins to walk away. “we’ll be in touch."

three weeks pass before you see him again. 

you’d decided quickly what you would say to him, and after two weeks worth of auditions that led to nothing, drinking without a friend in the world, alone to rot in your bedroom, you’d made up your mind.

osamu’s proposal, now, after everything you’d suffered, seemed too good to be true. how long had you wished for a companion, for money, for a steady job—and now, these were all things he promised to provide you, if only you’d stand by his side. 

you’d called to him at the start of the week, said a prayer to any angel named osamu that was out there—but no one came. 

night after night, you said the same prayer, wondering, if perhaps, you’d been made a fool of. that everything he had said was a lie, and you, truly, were doomed to live an unhappy life. maybe, he was mocking you for your misfortunes, for your weak heart. 

though, on the twenty-first day after your discussion, you awaken to a figure standing in the corner of your room, watching you with hawklike eyes, the shadow of a wingspan shaped out behind him. 

you gasp, nearly letting out a scream as you scramble to a seated position in your bed, bringing the sheets up to your chest. the man is nothing more than a silhouette, so dark in the moonlight, but you know, without seeing his face, that he is the one you’ve been searching for.

“osamu,” you say, trying to quell the fear that has made a home in your chest. you gawk at him as he uncrosses his arms, sauntering over like he owns the place, like he’s been here before, knows the shape of your body, even under the sheets you hide within. “you heard my prayers.” 

“i apologize for not coming faster,” he smiles in the darkness, teeth glimmering under beams of starlight. his face becomes visible then, and it steals your breath away—he is more stunning than you remember, skin nearly glowing, golden. “you were beginning to sound desperate.” osamu watches as your breathing evens out, your eyes flicking over his features. “is that still the case?” 

he is a sight to behold sitting before you, the very essence of power seeping off of him in waves. a creature crafted from the hands of god, shaped to be the very thing that would protect the weaker creations. 

osamu’s skin, his hair, every inch of him is without flaws, while you are but a sinful human girl who succumbs to each of her urges. 

“i want—” you stop, realizing that you’re not sure what you want. to be an actress, yes, a famous starlet that is cherished by the masses. but, when you look at osamu, the soft, plump shape of his lips, the lean limbs that hide under his tailored coat, you wonder if fame, security, comfort—perhaps, those aren’t the only things you desire from this exchange. “i accept—”

“you sound uncertain,” he interrupts, eyebrows drawing together in a scowl. “you called me here, begged me to come steal you away, and now, you change your mind?”

“no!” you say, scrambling to grab his wrist as he starts to stand from the bed, his eyes flashing as you reach for him on all fours. “i’m not changing my mind. i want to be famous, i want to be yours.” you swallow, choking out the word as it turns your cheeks warm, the heat making its way up from your toes. 

it hit you harder that you anticipated, the taste of belonging to another. you aren’t sure if its because you’ve craved the connection for so long that it’s twisting your insides, turning you into something desperate, or if, already, you feel an invisible string tying you and this stranger together. 

“but?” osamu asks, still seeming like he’s about to flee, his eyes hard, blinking back at you. there is something about you that he wants, but he won’t take it, not unless you crave him just as much. it muddles your mind, confuses you—he could have anyone, could take anything. yet— 

“but why do you want me?” you ask, releasing him to curl your fingers around the blanket. “i don’t understand.” 

osamu balks, then laughs, his eyes crinkling as he regards you with some sort of gentleness. “perhaps i have always loved humans a little too much, much more than i should, at least.” he curls a piece of your hair around his finger, hums to himself. “innocent creatures that my father cursed with misery, blaming their own sinfulness against them.” osamu licks his lips, hungry as dark eyes cover your face. “but it’s not entirely your fault that you must bear the torment of generations. just as it is not my fault that i was born with a lust for something much more delicate than the creatures of heaven.” 

he strokes your cheek, fingers grazing you like you are nothing more than a piece of glass, that you might shatter under the force of his power. perhaps you would—with too much, he might break you, turn you into a pile of ash with a snap of his finger.  

“but there are millions of us to choose from,” you say, sweating under the blanket as your heart pounds in your chest. the breadth of his power becomes more obvious with every passing second, and yet, you crave  a taste of it. “what makes me so special?”

he wraps a large palm around your jaw, thumb pulling at your lower lip. the tip of it dips into your mouth as you watch him with wide eyes, frozen, but not from fear. “i was meant to be your guardian angel, to be the guide that leads you away from the devil until your dying breath.” he moves closer, dipping his head towards your lips, brown irises never leaving your own. “and yet, the moment i laid eyes on you, i had already broken the first rule.” 

you stumble over your syllables, whispering them breathlessly. “and what’s that?” 

osamu smiles, muttering the words against your mouth, his voice ghosting over your skin. “angels are wired to protect those that we are assigned to,” he says, swiping his tongue against your lip, just barely kissing you, the sounds low and breathy. “we’re not supposed to want to fuck them.” a finger drags slowly, sensuously up your arm, and you can’t move, can’t do anything but watch as he pushes you, sinks you slowly into the bed. “i have never wanted anything as badly as i want you.”

you breath, in and out, slow, as the heat settles in your stomach, a burning pool of need churning there. it’s been so long—so long—since anyone has touched you in a way that is kind, has wanted to please you, instead of steal from you. “all that, just for me?” you ask cheekily, though you’re still not sure that he is telling the truth. 

maybe he is the devil, but you no longer care. his voice is so sweet with praise and affirmation, bleeding into the softness of your heart. 

he shrugs. “perhaps i was always meant to fall.” your head hits the pillow. you aren’t sure when he got you pinned on the bed. osamu looms over you with wide, burning eyes, licking his lips with an ache he doesn’t bother to hide. 

“osamu,” you shudder, grabbing his bicep to steady yourself. it is too much, suddenly, all at once. you are filled with need for him, clawing at his skin as he commands complete control over you with nothing but his words. “i—”

your sentence is stolen away by a kiss, one that burns from your mouth all the way down to your toes. it twists something within you, turns you into a monstrous being that you had not realized you were, longing so recklessly to be touched. 

his hands roam over your body, touch featherlight as he removes your dress, drags it slowly off your body, eyes grazing over every inch of your skin like he wants to devour your whole.

he makes a low sound in the back of his throat, fingers lightly dipping down your chest, between the swell of your breast to your ribcage. “how cruel of our father to keep us from such divine creatures,” he says, leaning down to kiss up your stomach, lick the skin around your breasts. “perhaps we are the ones that are truly being punished.”

you writhe under him, hands curling in his hair as his own dips between your thighs. grabbing his scalp hard, you yank him back up to your lips, and your eyes meet, both dark and dangerous as you brush your nose against his own. “you are punishing me right now.” 

“is that so?” he laughs, eyes flashing with humor. “such a greedy, impatient little thing.” osamu slips out of his coat, his shirt, revealing the tent that has already grown in his slacks. they are the next to go, and his golden skin is revealed, the perfection of every line and angle of his body heavenly and refined. he leans down to whisper in your ear, breath ghosting the shell of it. “act like such a princess, but i know you want to be fucked until you can’t form a single thought, don’t you?” he says, and the coolness of his voice has you squeezing his shoulders, gasping out his name.

your skin burns, your chest burns, an ache gathering and settling deep in your stomach. your cunt throbs as you look at the angel before you, and he kisses down your neck, bites a hard bruise into your collarbone. 

you whimper, wondering why you ever questioned going with him, when he could make you feel this good from nothing more than his hands on your skin. 

“such pretty fucking tits.” he swirls his tongue around your hardened nipple, teasing the bud as you cry out loudly in the silent room. far too loudly for the thin walls, the cheap apartment. yet, you wonder if you care that your neighbors can hear the noises that come with your pleasure. 

“that’s it,” he purrs, kissing down your stomach before his lips reach your hipbone, smiling into the sensitive skin there. “so quiet before… thought i was doing something wrong.” 

“n-no,” you say, chest rising quickly as you watch him hover above your soaked cunt with anticipation. “feels good.” 

osamu smiles, spreads your legs farther, so your dripping, aching hole is on display, embarrassingly, every inch of you vulnerable to him. “look at you,” he says, eyes hazy as he holds you tight, digs his fingers in your skin. “so fucking perfect. bet you taste as good as you look.” 

there isn’t a moment for you to say a word—his head is already between your thighs, kissing your clit before sweeping his tongue through your folds, gathering up the wetness. a moan leaves his lips, and the vibration sends a wave of need through you as you squeeze his hair, force him back down on your cunt, nose dragging against your clit. “osamu, please.”

“ah, ah, ah,” he stops, licking his lips that are moist from your juices as his head lifts from between your thighs. a dark smile stretches across his features, calculating and cruel. “where are your manners, sweetheart? i don’t want you to cum too quickly.” 

you’re not sure what he means until you feel your hands pinned to the bed by an invisible force, the power of the angelic creature before you, finally obvious. you can’t move, can’t even writhe against him, even as you try to thrust your hips forward, gain any sort of relief from the position. 

he laughs at you, so pitiful at your desperation to be touched. “much better,” he says, and returns to lap at your cunt, tongue already stretching you as his fingers graze your thigh. 

“s-samu,” you say, feeling the heavy pressure build down in your stomach. “want,” your cheeks grow hot, and you’re tingling with a need to touch him, but you can’t move. his pace is too steady, too slow. you’ve never wanted to scream more. “want your fingers. please, please.” 

“please? such a good girl.” osamu grins against your pussy. the sound of his tongue slurping at your arousal is loud in the darkened space, and you clench around him, burning with need and shame. “you taste so good, too. better than any of the fucking shit in heaven. fuck.” he slips a finger in then, working at your clenching hole as his tongue curls around your clit, rubbing at the sensitive bud. 

your words leave you in a cry, every muscle in your body aching. “please, i want to move. let me touch you, i want to, i—”

“i’m not letting you go that easy,” osamu says, and he pulls his mouth away, his face glistening, soaked. his fingers curl into you and you squeeze your eyes tight as he reaches deeper, to the second knuckle. “you’re so fucking worked up. bet you could cum at the sound of my voice alone.” 

“i wanna, please, i’m so close—"

he laughs, looking up at you from under dark lashes. “already?” the sound is mocking, nothing about it soft as he kisses your inner thigh. he sees the desperation in your irises as you can do nothing but stare, unable to twitch a single muscle. “gonna cum all over my face?” he asks, and he’s back between your legs, tongue diving into you. “make a mess on me, sweetheart, wanna see that pretty face of yours when you cum.” 

you don’t think you’ve every felt like this before, basked in the moonlight as the angelic man soaks his face with your desire, smiling at the sight of you so sinful. your heart hammers in your chest as you remember what you’ve promised him—that you would be his forever and, perhaps, this is what forever entails. 

breathy moans leave you, and with each thrust of his tongue, you’re left with less words on your lips, less thoughts in your mind. “feels so good, you’re so good, osamu,” you babble, over and over. 

osamu reaches the deep spot inside of you, and you squeeze him, clenching as you come on his fingers, cry out in the space of black room, nothing but the stars to guide you. you’re not sure you’ve ever come this fast before, not without the help of your own hands, but osamu just continues to lap at your cunt, drinking the juices and making lewd noises of pleasure at the taste of you. “mm,” he hums, “so fucking perfect.”

he fists his cock, already hard as his tongue swirls inside of you, and you lose any train of thought, too focused on the way he’s making you feel. 

osamu is hard, leaking before he shifts onto his knees, rubbing his cock between your folds, gathering slick at the tip. “want my cock, baby? such a pretty thing deserves it, don’t you think?”

you nod, muttering syllables you don’t even understand. osamu teases you, drags his cock against your hole as he kisses your lips. 

“use your words, sweetheart,” he smiles. his soaked fingers leave patterns of your own slick on your stomach. 

you groan, eyelashes wet. “want your cock, ‘samu, please, wanna be stuffed so full,” you babble, and you can’t do anything but lay there, even though you want to touch him, want so badly to shift your hips into him. “please, osamu, please,” 

he makes a noise in the back of his throat, grinning as he plays with your nipple, lining himself against your dripping hole. “so fucking sweet for me, anyone would think you were the angel, wouldn’t they?” osamu asks, and then he sinks into you, slow, eyes careful as he searches for any pain in your features. 

you blink up at him, making a soft noise as you writhe under your skin. “b-big,” you say, feeling him stretch your walls as he sinks further. 

though his eyes are careful, he doesn’t bother to stop, each second dragging as he inches further into you. he laces his fingers with yours on the bed, grinning as dark hair falls into his eyes. “i think you can take it, can’t you? you’ve been sogood for me already.” 

sucked into the coolness of his gaze, you don’t realize that he’s released you from whatever spell you’ve been trapped under, kept helpless on the bed. you gasp as he sinks into you completely, aching from a mix of discomfort and the deep need with you. 

“too much,” you say, but he sinks further, deeper, and your walls clench around him, bringing a heavy groan out of both of you. “fuck, please, let me move, i—” 

“i’m not stopping you,” he kisses you hard, sloppy as his saliva drags across your lips. there’s a possessiveness in the way he fucks you, dragging his mouth across your own, claiming you as his. “you take it so fucking well, angel, slipping right into this soaked pussy.”

his words take a moment to reach your disoriented mind, and when you try to move, you can, your hands flying to his shoulders to bring him closer. your whimpers are loud in the hollow room, and osamu loves the sound of you, drinking each little whisper in like a heavenly elixir. 

“you’re so pretty,” he says, kissing across your forehead as you arch into him. “making you feel good, hm? so fucking innocent, and i’m ruining you.” 

“mmm,” you force the sound out as osamu thrusts into you, hard against the mattress, his hips moving in a steady, fast rhythm. hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat, his brown eyes even darker in the midnight hour. 

your fingers graze across his back, between his shoulder blades, and though your touch is featherlight, he freezes, stops immediately with a loud groan as he clamps his teeth down on your shoulder. 

you breath in sync, your chests rising and falling together. “osamu?” you ask, staring up at him, his eyes pinched together tightly as he grits his teeth. 

“sensitive,” he says, and his voice is hoarse. “fuck, i’ll cum on the spot if you touch me there.” 

you blink, your haziness clearing as you let your hands fall to your sides. it takes you a moment to realize why he would curl away from your touch there, why he would—

“your wings?” you ask, and he drags his gaze back up to your’s, nodding, before dropping his head onto your collarbone. he exhales into your neck, resuming a slow, steady pace inside you. though, you place a hand on his chest, feel his erratic heartbeat. “can i see?” 

“you don’t want to.” 

you pinch your eyebrows together, but he shifts his hips, forces a cry out of you as you collapse back down against the mattress. “i do,” you argue, but he’s fucking you mercilessly, sensuous sounds echoing in the room as he attempts to distract you. “i want to.” 

he’s about to deny your request, but you let out another soft please, batting your eyelashes so sweetly. your cheeks are flushed from the heat in the room, and, for some reason, he relents, bowing his head in some sort of remorse. slowly, his wings span out across the room. 

you lose your breath for a moment as you stare at them, muddled from the feeling of him inside and the beautiful sight before you. the wings are thick, black and feathery, spanning the length of the room, casting a dark shadow over you. they’re strong and unwavering, with a sheen that could be seen only on a raven, the light turning the shades from a deep purple to green. 

“oh,” you can’t mutter anything else as he drags his tip against the sensitive spot inside you. “oh, they’re so beautiful. fuck, osamu, i can’t—”

you can’t stop yourself from touching them, dragging a gentle touch against one of the feathers. osamu cries out, groans into your mouth as your walls clench around him, sweat dripping between you as your chest presses against his own.

“shit,” he says, forehead pressed to yours. “oh, i’m so close. gonna make me come, aren’t you, baby? squeezing me so fucking tight, touching me like that.” 

his eyes are hazy, and, somehow, for some reason, he’s let you have control of the situation. he kisses your face, treats you with a gentleness you didn’t think he was capable of, his lips so warm against your skin. 

the dark, heavy wings cage you in, falling over the two of you, and you run your fingers against them once more as you feel another orgasm creep upon you. your clit rubs against him, and your slick drips between the two of you, down your thighs as your breath catches in your throat. 

for a moment, you revel in the feeling of him deep inside you, and you close your eyes, his feathered wings so soft under your palm, letting your pleasure overtake you.

though that is short-lived as osamu pinches your jaw.

“hey,” he says gruffly, “look at me. want to see those pretty eyes of yours when you cum.” and though his eyes are soft, delicate from the way you’re stroking his wings, he sounds so mean, so possessive. “gonna fuck all my cum inside you, cause you’re mine now.”

your fingers curl around the feathers, hard as you tug him down towards you. osamu moans deep into your mouth when you clench around him, your orgasm rolling over you again as you scream his name into the blackness of the room. 

“such a good girl f’me, fuck, i—” he doesn’t finish his sentence, already filling your soaked pussy with his cum. it seeps deep inside of you, coating your walls white until he pulls out, lets his seed drip between the two of you. 

osamu presses his fingers across your face, dragging the delicate touch around your jaw, your chin as you breath heavily, still awestruck by the creature before you. you’re exhausted, sleepy, eyes hazy as you regard him with stuttered breath. 

but he doesn’t let you go, kissing you over and over again with flushed lips. “i know you can give me one more,” he says in a low voice, humming against your throat. “my perfect mortal girl. just one more, and i’ll give you whatever you want, got it, pretty?” 

your body aches, sensitive and spent, but you don’t object when he slips another finger into, kissing you hard as he lets you touch his raven wingspan. 

you’d always wanted to be an actress, anyways. 

tags: @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346

OCTOBER MASTERLIST

[parkersbliss]

if the crows had instagram

pairing; kaz brekker x female!reader, crows x platonic!reader warnings: cursing, I think that’s it? slight ooc bc they don't actually have social media lmaoooo a/n: I love the usernames guys it's my favorite part Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

Liked by inejsknife, kuweimayo, and 82 others.

(Y/U/N) we take our job running the streets of ketterdam very seriously 😉

view all 19 comments

kbrekker please do consider this a formal threat to any of our rivals out there.

inejsknife we WILL take you out

→ gamblingaddict2 on a date?

→ wylanvanew to ur grace 🪦

→ (Y/UN) grave?

→ wylanvanew bro I’m dyslexic stfu

xoxonina guys i look soooo sexy after killing somone

→ matthias.helvar 🤦‍♂️

→ xoxonina 😻😻 I don’t hear an argument

→ (Y/U/N) u do look so sexy babe

Liked by actuallynickfr, thecounciloftides and 99 others

(Y/U/N) girls go to college to get more knowledge, boys go to Jupiter and get stupider 😘

view all 24 comments

wylanvanew @/gamblingaddict2 she’s talking bout u

→ gamblingaddict2 I didn’t get stupider

→ kbrekker Yeah, you got a gambling addition and that’s so much better. 🙄

→ kuweimayo OOOOH HE CLOCKED YOUUU 🫵🏼🫵🏼

→ xoxonina ain’t no way we get a kuwei comment before gta6

→ matthias.helvar You don’t even play gta?

→ xoxonina no one does ITS NOT OUT

→ (Y/U/N) we can just play gta with the carriages wdym

→ inejsknife y'all talking about gta when we should be playing assassins creed

→ xoxonina you play that everyday in real life inej 🤨

Liked by msgenya, wylanvanew and 192 others

(Y/U/N) late happy birthday post to the guy who has the whole city at his feet. may you grow wiser and we get richer 🩷

view all 38 comments

kbrekker Where did you get this photo.

→ (Y/U/N) 🤭 my collection

gamblingaddict2 HE SMILES???

xoxonina guys this doesn’t feel real

→ kbrekker It’s not.

→ (Y/U/N) it is

inejsknife kaz smiling before gta6?

wylanvanew nah this is fake af

→ (Y/U/N) as fake as ur dyslexia

→ wylanvanew omfg

matthias.helvar he doesn’t look so demon like here 🤔

→ kbrekker I AM a demon. 🙂

actuallynickfr yooo happy birthday my guy!! 🥳

→ kbrekker Thanks.

Liked by perhasel, jooooost, and 67 others.

(Y/U/N) the beauty of Ravka awaits...

view all 22 comments

inejsknife she’s so peaceful when she’s not threatening someone

→ (Y/U/N) stoppppp 🥰🥰🥰

→ matthias.helvar I don’t think it’s a compliment.

→ inejsknife no it is

xoxonina BABES COME BACKKK we miss you!!!

gamblingaddict2 no seriously @/(Y/U/N) Kaz is like SO mean now

→ kbrekker You’re all just stupider now.

→ gamblingaddict2 SEE

wylanvanew bring back gifts. expensive gifts. 😊

→ (Y/U/N) with what money?

→ kbrekker The money I pay you?

zo.nav CANT WAIT TO SEE U

→ (Y/U/N) I have so much tea for you

actuallynickfr we are so excited to host you!

gamblingaddict2 guys pls let her come back tho like kaz is gonna kill me

→ inejsknife ^ last night he threw a painting at us 😔

→ matthias.helvar he is angry without his misses

→ xoxonina he ate my waffle 😭

→ kbrekker will you all shut up

🏷️ taglist: @navs-bhat, @alexxavicry @thelaststraw3, @smol-book-nerd @pinksstrawberry @cwritesforfun @metzz @renaissancewhxre @guacam011y, @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @black-rose-29

[poursomesunaonme]

taste you still !

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

summary: you've been the o'hara's babysitter for quite some time; miguel thinks it's time for a raise!

wc: 4k

a/n: i have nothing to say for myself - i wrote this in two hours off two glasses of wine LMAO

cw: minors dni (pls have ur age in ur bio)!, age gap (reader is in college), drinking (clear for consent tho), pet names (sweetheart, bunny, conejita, little girl), doggy, oral (fem and male receiving), handjob, 69, biting, edging, scratching, size kink, overstim, nipple play, squirting, modified missionary, finger sucking, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare!

the tv flickers idly across the room as you fiddle with the hem of your skirt.  gabriella had been asleep for a few hours.  glancing at your phone, you find it’s just past midnight.  it’s a warm, friday summer night.  a soft drizzle begins to come down outside.

classes just finished for the summer.  if it had been any other friday, you’d be out at bars tearing it up with your friends.  however, the single dad you nanny for called you in last minute.  you didn’t mind.

the moist rainy air from the outside defeats the advances of the air conditioner, and it’s beginning to get hot in the living room where you sit.  you’re thankful for wearing light clothes, as it helps with the heat beginning to settle. the warmth and the sound of the rain to help your body settle, and you begin to doze off.

you jump as the lock clicks, signaling the return of your employer.  you clear your throat and check your phone before putting it down, acting like you were watching whatever animal documentary was on the tv.  

2:26am had blinked across your screen.  the father enters the house with a quiet sigh, locking the door behind him.

“hi, mr. o’hara,” you say lightly as he hangs his coat and shakes his umbrella before putting it in a plastic bag to dry off.

“hey, sweetheart,” he says, trying to keep the noise down to keep from waking his daughter as he kicks off his shoes, too tired to care if they land strewn across the floor.

“how was your night?” 

“i need a drink.” he chuckles, his footsteps receding into the kitchen to assuage his desire.  “do you want one?”

he had never offered you a drink before.  of course, you’re of age - it was just uncommon, given your position in his family.  

“i, uh…” you stumble over your words.  “sure.  please.  it’s been a long day.”

“i hope gabriella didn’t give you much trouble.”  the crackling sound of ice breaking under an expensive scotch drifts from the kitchen.

“no, she was great.  she just… she missed you.”

the words unspoken scream that you did as well, but you ignore them.  it was delusional to think of him that way, but you couldn’t help yourself for that split second.  it was rare to spend more than ten minutes with him when you helped him out with nannying - there was no reason for you to feel such an emotion.

“yeah… i missed her too.”

some underlying meaning laces his choice of words.  the sound of his footsteps alert you to his presence before he reaches over the couch from behind you to offer you the glass.  you jump slightly, but accept it.  he sits heavily next to you, the couch creaking under his sudden weight.  you both take a heavy sip of the drink.  it slightly burns your throat, but you manage to choke it down anyway.

you’re aware of his identity, as it was necessary to be privy to such matters when taking care of his daughter.  you had detailed protocols to follow in case of such emergencies and the like, but that didn’t mean that you would ask about his mission.  you assumed the subject was off limits, and that strategy kept you in good graces with the man.  instead, he asks you about how the end of your school was, if there was any issue in securing an apartment for the next semester, mundane things and the like.

you answer all of his questions politely.  as much as you want to inquire about his missions, you refrain from doing so. he finishes his drink in no time, asking if you’d like another.  you eye your drink then finish the whole thing, handing the empty glass back to him.

you swear he mutters “good girl” under his breath.  it makes your stomach churn in a way you could have never imagined.

when he sits next to you with the drinks refreshed, it’s much closer.  you feel the heat radiating off his body.  the alcohol begins to course through your veins, and you can’t control the way your body easily gravitates toward him.  you struggle against the muffling feeling, struggle to keep control of your body that so badly wants to be pressed against his.

“oh, did i make a mistake?” he murmurs when he notices your proximity.  “want me to order you an uber?”

“no, no, mr. o’hara.” you shake off his offer.  “i’m okay.  thank you though.”

he pauses, swishing the alcohol in the glass before downing it swiftly.  “in that case, i’m gonna go shower.  you can leave if you’d like, or you can strip down naked and wait for me in bed.”

so i can finally fucking ravage you is the ending that he wishes to add, but he doesn’t want to scare you.

you’re taking a sip as he speaks, nearly spitting your drink out at his proposition.  however, you keep your composure and say nothing as he finishes his drink in one swift gulp and gets up from the couch, leaving a shivering feeling through your skin.

the second he leaves earshot, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. 

you’re fucked.

it’s like he knows the way you look at him in those minute moments when he leaves and returns from work. it’s like he knows that you continuously brag to your friends about how handsome he was.  it’s like he knows that you’ve said countless times that you’d jump him if you were ever given the chance.

but that was all just a silly little crush.  you never imagined that he would actually give you the opportunity.

he’d made you an offer you’d be downright stupid to refuse.

which is how you end up splayed in his bed, the cool air of the bedroom chilling your skin.  it was the obvious choice.  your chest rises and falls with anticipation.  the hopes of the man following through with his lewd offer brings on an ever-quickening heart rate.  you adjust your position again and again, hoping that each following pose will please him more than the last and help assuage the nervous feeling gnawing in your gut.

just as you chose the simple option to lay back against the pillows with your legs folded delicately together to one side, the shower turns off.  miguel doesn’t even bother drying off before he emerges from the bathroom in a dramatic billow of steam, wet gray-streaked hair tumbling into his face.  small droplets of water roll off his naked body and splatter against the floor.  the musky scent of his body wash hits your nose.  it makes you dizzy.  combined with the sight of him and the heavy alcohol rushing through your bloodstream, you’re completely susceptible to whatever plans he has in store.  you lose your breath at the sight of his tan, toned body approaching you.

“get on your hands and knees.”  the way he commands you is almost a detached sigh.  you don’t hesitate to obey, however.  without thinking, you get up from the position to poise yourself at the end of the bed in the way he ordered.  your heart speeds up, pounding against your ribcage.  this position already?  skipping to the main event?  you aren’t complaining, just surprised.

that feeling of surprise continues when you hear his knees heavily drop to the floor and his hands cup the globes of your ass and spread them apart.  the cold air hits that warm center and you gasp.  you gasp because the feeling is surprising and his lips press between your folds and you gasp because he groans so deeply at the first taste of you.

you’re fucked.

he takes no time to begin diving into every inch of your cunt.  you clutch at the bedsheets, wincing at the cold droplets from his hair running down the back of your thighs.

“mr… mr. miguel.”  you squeak, unable to muster up the brainpower to say anything else.  he works like it’s necessary for him to keep breathing, like he can’t wait to do anything else, like he’s starving, and you’re the first meal he’s come across in days.  

“is this okay?”  he finally pulls back, drawing a gasp from your lips at the cold air hitting that warm place again.  “just can’t… fuck… hold myself back.”

you make the mistake of craning your neck to meet his eyes at his panting candor.  his face just barely hovers above your ass, hands still spreading you apart.  you gulp at the sight of the shimmer of your essence on his lips.  he pants heavily, broad shoulders heaving with the force of his breath.  his eyes are gleaming, his pupils blown out with lust.  he looks fucking crazy, hair tumbling into his face.

you can feel your face heat up at the sight of him, feel your expression fall as you acknowledge again and again and again: you’re fucked.

a nod is all you can manage to urge him to continue.  you turn around and focus on the shiny silk pillows to ground yourself, bracing for the impact.

he merely grunts and dives back between your legs, splattering the last few drops remaining from his dewy skin onto you.  it takes everything in you not to collapse when he begins working with an increased fervor.  apparently, your words gave him great encouragement, as he intensified the movements, even daring to remove his lips from your folds to plant heavy, open-mouthed kisses on the backs of your thighs - and even daring to nip at the sensitive skin. 

before you know it, you sink down into the comforter, fingers whitening in a death grip on the sheets for support.  miguel doesn’t seem to notice - he’s too lost in the feeling of the increasing warmth on his tongue, of the blood rushing to where your body deems it to be.

just as you’re about to finish, he pulls back.  it draws a whimper from you, but before you can utter a word of complaint, he straightens up and begins to rub his length between the sticky wetness that welcomes him.  you whimper at the feeling, pushing your hips back against him as an invitation inside.  he wastes no time in accepting, pushing into you once he’s amply coated. 

your eyes bulge out of your head and you cry out a stilted moan as he doesn’t stop - not until he’s fully sheathed in you.  you sink down fully into the mattress, only supported by his hands when they grasp your waist to hold your lower body upright.  the beginnings of claws begin to poke into the meat of your hips.  overwhelming feelings circulate through every part of your body.  your mind begins to fog over.  you can’t differentiate the feeling from the alcohol or the pleasure; they work in tandem.

he doesn’t waist time to begin thrusting into you, more surely than he’s done anything in his life.  the rhythm is slow, but deep, and it drives you over the edge in no time.  since he left you hanging from the ministrations of his mouth, the movements of his length deep within you shove you over the precipice of pleasure.

“miguel… please, don’t stop.”  you whimper.  your eyes roll into the back of your head and you feel a great weight press into your back.  his lips appear on the shell of your ear.

“don’t hold back for me, bunny,” is the whisper.  “let go.”

you do as you're told, whimpers muffled against the mattress as you give into the pleasure, squeezing and convulsing around his length.  he licks behind your ear before nibbling on the lobe, drawing an extended moan that takes your breath away.  you can’t muster up any words - no praise, no thanks.  just incoherent sounds that express the feelings that you can’t articulate with the onslaught of pressure.

"mi conejita..."

miguel continues to rut into you like a wild animal.  his body presses flush against your back as his hips move, only going deeper and deeper as he jerks them back and forth.  there’s no relief, no breaks you get from his demanding size, from his desire to puncture you deeper and deeper until he finds his own sense of relief.

just as you finish, you think there will be a moment in the trembling of your legs that miguel will spare you.  however, you’re wrong.  the feeling of you constricting around him ignites a new passion in him, one that results in his lips meeting your neck, your shoulders, your back - one that draws his teeth into your skin.

a gasp escapes at the feeling of him nibbling on that sensitive skin, of the feeling of his hips continuing to mercilessly ram into yours.  you don’t want him to stop.  your hands clutch as the sheets, begging for some stability from the bed, but it doesn’t come.

instead, miguel’s hands wrap around your chest to pull you up as he straightens up.  his grip tigthens as you settle pressed against his sweating, heavily chest.  when you’re secured, his hands begin to move.  first and foremost, they grab your chin to face him and without hesitation, his lips crash against yours.  his fingers squeeze your jaw to pry it open and his tongue shoves down your throat.  you whimper against him.  he eats the sound whole.

his hands don’t stop once they leave your chin, trusting that your lips won’t leave his.  they reach down to pinch and pull your nipples, wander down to rub slow circles into your poor overstimulated clit.  the sound of his hips slapping against your raw skin is overwhelming, you can’t help but lean back into his chest for support, his tongue still craving the inside of your mouth.  he grunts in surprise when you start to suck his tongue desperately.  the sound simmers in his chest as he chuckles.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, little girl.”

you find yourself smiling, find yourself squeezing him as he moves inside, threatening to tear your insides apart.

“fuck,” he moans into your mouth.  “christ, you’re tight.”

you moan and whine into his mouth, and he devours those sounds as well.  the vibrations only spur him forward, only egg him on to continue ramming his hips into your body.  his fingers rub unceasingly against your increasingly sensitive clit.

“i’m gonna-” you manage to slur around his overpowering tongue and teeth.  “i’m gonna cum again.”

he groans, lowly and long.  it’s a lewd sound, one that sends all the heat from your body straight down between your legs.  it’s an encouragement, one that sends you over the edge within a split second.  you moan, legs shaking as you begin to collapse onto the bed again.  you can’t help the weakness, can’t help the fact that your legs turn to jelly as he rams into you with want and need that you can’t even begin to fathom.

you squeal as a fresh spurt of juices flow from your cunt, flow around his length, and down your inner thighs.

he swears again at the sensation of liquid beginning to run down his length, trickling down his own legs.  “shit… shit… i-i need that.  i need you to do that again.”

he pants and pulls out.  you gasp at the empty feeling, but he doesn’t give you much time to process it fully before he lays down on the bed and snatches your waist, pulling you over to align your hips with his face.  before you can utter a word of objection or acceptance, he yanks you into his face, burying himself in the warm grave of your cunt.

you throw your head back and moan weakly, tired and overstimulated from the last orgasms, but he doesn’t stop.  his ministrations are unyielding, even when you plant your hands against his hips to steady yourself.  his hard length stands in front of you, just barely out of reach of your mouth.  you can’t help yourself from drooling at the sight, of precum spilling from the tip and mixing with your juices that still dribble down the veins.

you try to move forward, but he pulls your hips back stubbornly, shoving his tongue into you.  you whimper, opting you reach your hand out to wrap around and pump his length until you can get your mouth on the impressive sight.  he slows as he realizes what you want to do.  he knows how much bigger he is than you.  he slides up the pillows to sit up, closing the distance between you and your prize until your lips suckle on the tip, drawing a hiss from him.  as if an attempt to silence the sound, his teeth sink into your asscheck.

“fuck,” you groan as the teethmarks in your skin join the bitemarks he left on your neck, back, and shoulders, still fresh and throbbing.  you attempt to shake off the feeling and start to bob your mouth up and down on his length, drooling over the musky taste of his precum when your tongue trails down the base, every vein drawn like a map under your tongue.

he doesn’t let you indulge yourself for long before he jerks your hips back against his face once more, drawing your mouth from his length with a soft pop.  you moan in indignation, attempting to lunge back to continue your work.  however, miguel’s grip on your hips, the nails beginning to dig in the muscles, successfully stops you.

instead, you pump down his shaft, hoping that you’re pleasing him as much as he’s pleasing you.  another wave of pleasure rolls over you, and you can’t help but whine at the vibration of miguel’s moans as he gulps down the juices that flow heartily from your center.  his dick twitches in your palm.

“please…” you whimper.  “please fuck me… please…”

“no” is the simple answer.  “you’re cumming on my face, mi conejita.” 

your cheeks heat at his unashamed lewdness, at how he so easily expresses his desire for you.  how long had he been feeling his way?  how long had he wanted to ravish you like this?  he seems so resigned to his desires that he just can’t help himself anymore.

he gets his wish soon enough, pulling you so far onto him that his nose dips into your entrance, triggering an explosion of pleasure within you.  he groans as your legs begin to shake around his face, as you give up on pumping his shaft because you can’t focus on anything else but not losing your mind at how good he makes you feel. 

miguel doesn’t give you a reprieve in his agenda, slapping your ass twice to signal a position change before you can even catch your breath.

“get up,” he growls, and you obey.  he pushes you down on the bed in his place - the pillows are still warm from where he sat, still damp from the juices running freely down his face and jawline to soak the sheets.  without hesitation, he grips your calves and throws them over his shoulders.  you’re completely powerless underneath him when he pushes into you fully, not waiting a split second to begin ramming into you, even deeper than before.

it’s nearly unbearable, especially when he grabs your wrists, crosses them with a single hand, and holds them over your head before his lips crash onto yours.  your moans pour into his mouth, and he takes them without a second thought, returning them with equal fervor.  each pound of his hips forces water droplets from his damp hair onto your shaking body.  the way he presses down into you, the way the weight of him presses your thighs against your chest, the stretch aching, the opening angle of your hips for him to ram deeper into your warmth… it’s too much.

tears bead at the corners of your eyes when you open them to find him watching your face, even as he’s shoving his tongue down your throat.  you feel the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile at the sight of you so weak with want, with desire.  he looks fucking feral.

he pulls back, watching your reaction as he turns his head to press sloppy kisses to your calves, nipping at the skin.  welting bumps appear under his mouth, like he’s decorating you in just the fashion he likes.  when he’s finished, his lips crash onto yours again.  he doesn’t stop, doesn’t show mercy, not even when you’re babbling for him to continue, to push you over the edge once more.

“i gotta…” he pants, finally drawing back from your lips to examine your whole body shaking against the rough motion of his hips bulldozing into you.  a single line of spit still joins your lips.  “i gotta taste you still… fuck.”

he thinks for a moment before his fingers dive between your folds, gathering an ample amount of essence before he raises them to your mouth, spreading the liquid across your lips.  you can barely function at the lewd sight, even when he presses his fingers into your mouth, leading your tongue to swish around them and lap up every last drop.  his face contorts when your lips close around his digits, sucking his digits dry.

his mouth crashes against yours, exploring every bud in your mouth with renewed fervor at the flavor of your cunt all throughout your mouth.  you realize he had let go of your hands and you use the freedom to latch your nails into his back, clawing it to ribbons.  he thrusts into you with refreshing vigor, spurred by the satisfaction of your taste, at your nails sinking into his skin, and the warm, pulsing feeling of your cunt around his length at the same time.  he doesn’t last long, doesn’t make it much more time before he moans and whimpers into your mouth, warm cum spilling into you.  he removes his mouth from your kiss bitten lips and opts to bite into your neck, so hard you’re afraid you’ll bleed - but it’s enough to send you tumbling over the edge with him.  but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s groaning against you, fucking the last bit of himself into you, slowing his hips more and more.

when he’s finally finished, you squeeze your arms around him, removing your nails from his skin, welcoming him an embrace for him to collapse into.  he accepts the invitation graciously, his full weight pressing upon you as your legs fall from their position on either side of his hips.

he sighs into your neck, into the satisfying feeling of his cum beginning to ooze from your warmth, down your ass, spilling onto the bed.  there’s a few moments of wordlessness, the only sound echoing the room is breathless panting.

“well, consider this payment for watching gabi tonight?”

you laugh at his offhanded comment that breaks the silence and press a kiss onto his heaving shoulders.

“no, i’m still expecting the same rate.”

“in this economy?  times are changing, sweetheart.”  he raises his head to meet your eyes as you laugh.  “i hear this is the new salary.  don’t tell me you’re that opposed.”

“i’m not… of course not.”  you laugh nervously.  he chuckles at the sight of you getting so flustered.  he swiftly rises, pulling out of you so fast that you barely have time to process it before he gets warm rags and towels from the bathroom.

he comes back and kisses your forehead gently, wiping the residue of the wild night from your body.  it’s a tender gesture, one that you didn’t expect from the rugged creature.  however, it’s not unwelcome.

“well, if you’d like to stick with me, i’m sure there will be some benefits in the future, if you’re willing to stay on.”  he pauses and grins.  “and it’ll be nice to have you here in bed in case i get called out in the middle of the night. you always sound so pissed at me when i call to wake you up.”  

he dries off your wet skin with a towel before letting all of the material fall to the ground, forgotten.  his body curls around you, the overwhelming size and warmth of him surrounding you.

you smirk, letting out a giggle at the continuation of the joke, heat pooling in your cheeks from the easy closeness he pursues with you.  “of course, mr. o’hara.  i don’t think anyone else could match such a wonderful deal.”

divider by: @/ffffffaatality

@dilftaroooo come n get it !

© all work belongs to poursomesunaonme. do not copy and repost. likes, comments & reblogs are always appreciated !

[aryxchse]

can i request hcs of having jason as ur praetor bf pls? 🤍🤍

you can be the boss. / praetor! jason grace x female! reader.

a / n : let's just say i have an idea okay... i read all of the series and i still don't have any single idea about what a praetor is 😭 that's why i ignored this request so much 😭😭 im literally rambling under this sorry!!

warnings : nothing??? omgs

he's very busy

like busy busy

but he always tries to make time for you

and if you're working with him in some type of way (this is me not knowing romans) he enjoys taking care of the camp jupiter with you

having jason is like dating a ceo, which he kinda is. everyone knows and respects him and he's kinda cold and stoic on the outside

he takes this boyfriend thing very seriously and he tries to be perfect about it

not that he has to try-

and one night, in his barrack (??? i have no idea guys) you start to talk about this

like how he doesn't have to be perfect, that every relationship had it's ups and downs, and how he was already a perfect boyfriend

he cried

anyways-

again, i don't know if they can do that, but life is easier when you have a ceo-like boyfriend because he can give you anything you ask for

anyways im not gonna stay too much on that topic-

new rome dates!!!!!

just holding hands like normal teenagers, eating ice cream, walking around in the great buildings

you guys already plan on going to collage here

because it's safe, and jason will do whatever it takes to keep you safe

he's a very smart guy, so if you have any type of paperwork, he's already down

you comfort him a multiple times when he's overworking himself as a praetor

and you constantly need to remind him that he's doing great and he's an awesome leader

because he literally is but my boy doesn't see it

he makes you sit on his lap and just hug him while he finishes the papers

because he wants to give you his attention 24/7, but the works just doesn't allow him

on the free days, you guys either stay in, or practice together

but mostly stay in

he's so husband material!! he cooks for you, he cleans your room for you if you're busy, anything

if you're new to camp, he's happy to show you around and tell you everything about it

fixing your armors for you, or cleaning your sword

the only times he can relax is when he's with you

he can pretend to be a normal kid when he's right next to you, just hugging you close and resting on you

he just wants to retire fr

and live a domestic life with you, get old with you, have grandkids

every time he's away, he thinks this

it's just so hot watching him working

like giving orders, just basically his stuff

and whenever he commands something to your group, all serious, he secretly smiles at you when everyone turns away

the camp knows he has a soft spot for you but they know better than speaking about it

people might think jason is boring and everything, but he's a fun guy when he's with you

and only you

took this from my drafts only for YOU guys 🫵🏻💋

[merakiui]

"magic dildo concept with Lyney" mera im going to need u to pls elaborate bc if ur thinking what im thinking then OHOHOHO he def uses it in public

Lyney gifting you a magic item that is, in every sense of the word, a dildo. But he keeps saying it’s magical, and he sounds more like a sleazy salesman when he’s teasing you about how it’ll give you an orgasm that feels magical. <3 it’s hard to believe and also very embarrassing, but you take it so you’ll get him to stop pestering you. Conversely, Lyney also has his own little pocket pussy for himself and it’s enchanted to connect to your hole. Now when the both of you use your respective devices, you’ll get to feel one another! Isn’t that the best? Isn’t he just so thoughtful, always thinking and planning ahead like that? And the best part is that you have no idea the dildo connects to him. More importantly, you’ll never know who’s the owner of the mysterious, invisible cock that fucks into you at odd hours during day and night, always cumming inside and leaving a mess.

Sometimes Lyney looks at you like he’d sooner push you down and fuck into you like an animal, lascivious and filthy, and though he shrugs this look off with immaculate grace: “Whaaat? Can’t I admire my dearest friend~?” you suspect there’s more lying beneath his usual playfulness…

[jaemmphilia]

★ 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺 ★ || b.c.

★ summary: y/n choi is a employee at jype offices, working in the graphic design department. having just broken up with his boyfriend, he finds himself enjoying the comfort of another man, one that he really shouldn't be enjoying...

★ characters: choi y/n, christopher bahng, lee minho, seo changbin, hwang hyunjin, han jisung, lee felix, kim seungmin, yang jeongin

★ warnings: language, office sex, bj under the desk, sexual tension, oral (chris receiving), unprotected sex (pls wrap it before you tap it guys), spit, a bit of ass worship (have you seen the cake on channie??), chris being soft for reader, very sloppy kissing, 

★ word count: ~6.4K

★ binnie’s thoughts: i literally had the idea of banging chan while i was in the shower and my friend just gave me ideas, so here i am writing this filthy shower thought, minors go away before i eat your homework, also this is way longer than it has to be, but i’m a sucker for details

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so don't take it to heart. just enjoy!

Today could not get any worse, there was absolutely no way. If it got any worse, Y/N just might throw himself into traffic. 

It all started the previous night. Y/N was getting ready for bed, knowing he had to get up fairly early for work. He was pulling on some sweatpants when his phone pinged and lit up on the bedside table to his left. Y/N leaned over and picked up the device, seeing a text from his boyfriend, Shinwon: 

‘hey baby, im coming over, so unlock ur door’

Y/N rolled his eyes, but walked to the front door and turned the top and bottom knobs, the soft clicks indicating that it was unlocked. He took a few short strides to the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a cold water bottle. He cracked open the bottle and took a sip, his eyes turning to the side as he heard his front door opening and closing. Shinwon flashed Y/N a smile as he stepped into the small, but cozy space. Y/N took a moment to admire his painfully average boyfriend of just two years and some months. 

Shinwon Kang, a man that just radiates average energy. He was average height, average weight, just…average all round. If you asked Y/N if he’s ever lost Shinwon in a crowd, Y/N would just let out a huff of air that could be disguised as a guilty laugh. Y/N liked Shinwon, he really did, but he can’t imagine seeing himself with Shinwon in the long run. He's tried, and it always ends the same. The two of them have different outlooks on what they want in the future, and they’ve often argued about it. 

Well, that next morning was no different. The two were laying in Y/N’s massive bed (that he really didn’t need, but it’s his apartment thank you very much), their limbs tangled together as their bare chests lightly grazed each other while they both came to. Y/N’s loud ass alarm had scared the life out of Shinwon, it always had. Y/N was the heaviest sleeper Shinwon had the pleasure of knowing. Y/N’s eyes began to close, but Shinwon lightly shook the male, his eyes shooting open and looking around frantically. Shinwon let out a breathy laugh and looked at the h/c haired male in his arms. 

“You know, I don't see why we can’t move in together, we’ve been together for a while now.” Shinwon says, his words immediately waking up Y/N, who untangles himself from the taller male. 

“Not this bullshit again,” Y/N muttered, standing up from the bed and checking his phone. He doesn’t know why Shinwon's statement makes him so moody, but it just does. 

“Come on, babe, i’m not that bad,” Shinwon said, a playful pout gracing his features. He never understood his boyfriend’s hostility towards taking that next step. 

“It’s not that you’re bad, I just don’t want us to move too fast,” Y/N said, not looking at the man behind him, not wanting to see the look on his face. 

Of course Y/N felt bad for shooting down Shinwon's idea, but he absolutely dreaded sharing his personal space with another human. He hated doing it when he was in college, his roommate constantly invading his space and taking his things without asking. He was only willing to share his space with his cat, Domino (who isn’t fond of Shinwon, which is a red flag, honestly). 

“We’ve been together for almost three years, I don't think we can move any slower.” Shinwon mutters, a sigh leaving his plump lips, his playful pout no longer showing on his face. 

“I’m not having this conversation with you, Shin, I have to get ready for work.” Y/N shuts him down as soon as he gets the chance, standing up from his seated position and stretching his limbs. 

“Then let’s just break up,” Shinwon says quietly, not really sure why he said that but his voice is loud in Y/N’s ears. The words replayed in his mind. “since you obviously don’t want to take our relationship further.”

Did he really want this? The thought of breaking up with Shinwon had crossed his mind at least a few times before, but he would just shake his head and try to think about something else. Y/N is a non confrontational person, he doesn’t like being the one to start a conversation, much rather being the one to observe rather than engage. Y/N is known to have quite the temper, though. His face always contorted in a slight scowl, his brows constantly furrowed. It is often said that Y/N would “be more handsome if he smiled once every while.” 

At this point, Y/N’s mouth began to move on its own, his mind not quite catching up to what his big mouth was spitting out. 

“Fine, I guess that’s that, then.” he said, his voice taking on a cold tone, as he digs in his closet, finding his favorite striped button up, a gift from his mother that he cherishes dearly. She always knew what he liked.

“You’re not even going to try and fight for us?” Shinwon sat up, his voice going up in pitch, his peanut brown eyes going a little wide. 

“What’s there to fight for?” Y/N said as he slipped on a pair of tight, black slacks. “we’ve had this conversation how many times now? and you still don’t get that I don’t want to move in with you?” 

“I can’t believe you, Y/N! I really thought we had something special here!” Shinwon said, getting up from the bed, and throwing on his clothes that he tossed on the floor once the two got ready to settle down for the night. 

“Can I be honest?” Y/N said, finally turning to meet Shinwon’s eyes. Y/N ran a hand through his messy hair, his face unreadable. Shinwon looks at y/n, motioning for him to go on, to add more salt into this wound. 

“I never really saw myself being with you, long term.” Y/N said, finally letting his feelings out, feelings he held back for months now. He felt a weight being lifted off his chest and shoulders. What shocked him the most was that seeing Shinwon’s hurt expression didn’t make him feel bad. Y/N wouldn’t consider himself a sensitive person, but he also wouldn’t consider himself to be a total asshole, either. He just had a serious case of Resting Bitch Face. 

“You’re a total dick, Y/N, I hope you know that.” Shinwon spat out, his teeth gritted as he glared at Y/N, his narrow eyes full of sadness and anger. The taller male grabbed his phone and stomped around the apartment before slamming the door, leaving Y/N in painful silence. The male just decided to push his feelings deep down where no one could get to them, and decided to feed his cat.

The ride to work is quiet for Y/N. He doesn’t bother turning on the radio, deciding to let his mind run for a bit. He wonders if he made the right decision, maybe he was a bit too harsh with Shinwon? He shakes his head, sighing as he parks his car. He'll ask Seungmin once he gets inside. Actually, asking the younger male was a horrible idea. Maybe he’ll ask Felix instead. The freckled boy could do no wrong in Y/N’s eyes. 

As soon as Y/N walks into the large building with way too many windows to be considered normal, his department's boss is flagging him down with a wave. Y/N sets his bag down by his desk and walks over, bowing slightly, and the chubby man begins to talk. 

“Good news, Choi, you’re moving departments temporarily.” the older man says, clapping a rough hand on Y/N’s back, making the smaller male cringe. Once Y/N recovers from that mildly painful smack, his eyes go wide in disbelief. 

“Hold on, what do you mean ‘moving departments temporarily’?” Y/N asks, his jaw going slack as his mouth hangs open. How in the world was he supposed to gossip with his three gremlins, plus Felix, if he’s not in the same department with them? 

“It means exactly how it sounds. you’ll be switching to the producing department and you’ll be working with Mr. Bahng from the production department on a project that requires your expertise.” the older man says, a bright smile on his wrinkled face, as if his words were supposed to make the shorter male feel better. 

It’s a well known fact that the production team and the graphic design team often butt heads when it comes down to projects. The production team is full of cocky bastards who think they’re better because they get to actually produce music rather than create the art that becomes the face of the album, track and various merch items. The graphic design team is full of petty people with pretty faces who think they’re better because they create the visual art behind the music. Y/N couldn’t give two shits. He just wants to get paid doing something he actually likes.

It couldn’t be all that bad, right? Y/N has only heard good things about Chris, and the two have had a few interactions at office parties during the holidays, and various birthdays at expensive bars. Chris is, to put it lightly, drop-dead gorgeous. He looks like he was molded by the angels above. They definitely took their time with him, making him the most godly man to walk this miserable earth. Y/N heard stories of Chris helping newbies feel safe at the company, making them feel like they had a place of belonging. Y/N didn’t get that treatment when he started, he got stuck with a rude ass puppy, an innocently sneaky fox, a little chicken with freckles, and a dramatic ferret with long hair. 

“Uh, okay, cool,” Y/N said, not really sure how to respond to this sudden news. It was only for a short period of time, right? He could easily survive that, no doubt. He's got this, his four children will be fine, he’ll put Felix in charge. 

Yeah, this is not going to work. He can’t do it. Chris is too much for his soul. Chris is too sweet for his own good. 

Once Y/N made his way to the production department building, he was greeted by a smiling face with the deepest dimples and a mop of thick, curly blonde hair. Since when did Chris have blonde hair? It must have been a while since the two have interacted, because Y/N remembers Chris having curly, deep, chocolate brown locks. He would never admit it out loud, but the things Y/N would do just to run his hands through the dark locks, tugging lightly as Chris bites his–

“Hello? Anyone home?” a chuckle snaps Y/N out of his trance, his eyes wide and staring directly at Chris. Chris doesn’t seem phased by Y/N’s intense stare, a bright but nervous smile on his chiseled face. 

“Sorry, I just spaced out for a second,” Y/N finally replies, a light warmth filling his cheeks and ears, a tad bit embarrassed by his own thoughts. He knows he shouldn’t be having these thoughts, he just broke up with his long-term boyfriend less than two hours ago. A part of him is glad mind readers don’t exist, because he would have to dig a hole and crawl inside if Chris heard what he was thinking about. 

“No worries, mate, it happens to the best of us,” Chris replies, flashing his million-dollar smile at the shorter male once again. The sight alone blinding Y/N and filling his stomach with obnoxious fluttering. (if only seungmin were here to capture this glorious moment.) 

“So, do you know why I requested your help specifically?” Chris asks, the question once again stopping Y/N in his tracks. Chris requested his help? Why would he request Y/N’s help when Hyunjin was one, if not the best, of the graphic design team? The man pretty much lived and breathed art. 

Of course, Y/N loved art as much as any other artist, I mean, he went to college for it, for crying out loud. Again, why did Chris ask for him?

“I, uh, actually had no idea you requested me specifically,” Y/N finally speaks after a moment of silent contemplation, his own e/c eyes looking up to meet deep brown ones. 

“I admire the work you did for the most recent album that was put out. The colors really went together to tell a story, and I could use something like that for the project I'm working on now," Chris says, his hand finding its way to Y/N’s shoulder, touching gently, almost feather-like. The gesture is strictly friendly, but Y/N can’t help the way his skin burns under Chris’ touch.

“Oh,” Y/N says, truly at a loss for words. “that actually means a lot, thank you, Mr. Bahng.” Y/N can feel his cheeks heat up, not used to receiving praise quite like this. It feels nice coming from Chris.

“Just Chris is fine, I don't particularly care for formalities,” Chris says, his hand removing itself from Y/N’s shoulder, and Y/N feels like he can finally breathe again. First name basis, huh? Y/N can’t help but wonder how such a cocky department has such a sweet leader such as Chris. 

“Besides, we’re friends, right?” Chris adds on, and if Y/N had a drink, he would have spat it all over the place. 

Were they friends? It feels like a gray area, honestly. Y/N and Chris have spoken a total of two times, and their conversations were just shy of casual coworker talk. So where is he getting the term “friends” from? Y/N thinks back to his friends in the graphic design department. What would they do in this situation? 

The better question is, what would Felix do in this situation? Felix, ever so level headed, Y/N’s precious chicken little (it’s best not to dwell on what the other three demons would do because it would end in chaos no matter what, especially Seungmin). 

“Yeah, sure, we’re friends,” Y/N replies, hoping his voice doesn’t crack and expose the nerves he’s feeling deep in his gut. Being friends with Chris was never something Y/N ever considered happening during his 4 years of working at JYPE offices. Chris was known for sticking to his close knit group of friends, only one of them being familiar with Y/N.

Lee Minho, the most cat-obsessed human being known to man. Minho is known to text Y/N asking for pictures of Domino, and often sending pictures of his own cats in return. Minho saw a photo of Domino sitting on Y/N’s desk, and the male gasped, grabbing the picture without thinking. He gushed and cooed at the picture, immediately asking for the cat’s name. Y/N, in a slight state of shock, told the male his pet’s name. 

“Give me your number right now, I have to see more pictures of this precious baby!” Minho had said, and Y/N complied, honestly finding the entire interaction quite amusing. Now, the two often exchange pictures of their felines, and tend to engage in regular conversation. 

The moment Y/N stepped into the production team’s department, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him. Some envious, some condescending, and some surprised. It wasn't often that people from the separate teams crossed into each other’s side of the building. Y/N can’t help but duck his head down at the looks he’s receiving, following close behind Chris, and walking into the male’s personal office. Once the males walk into the office, they’re met with a loud, gravelly screech, and an equally loud scream that is higher in pitch. Once Chris finds out that it’s just his friends, Jisung and Changbin, he stands there, his arms crossed, his biceps flexing and causing his already tight shirt to cling to his unblemished skin. His expression is amused, his left eyebrow cocked upwards as he shifts his body weight to one side, watching as Jisung and Changbin pretend that they weren’t just digging into the food Chris ordered specifically for himself and Y/N. 

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Chris finally speaks, his expression remaining the same, except a slight smirk has found its way onto the blonde’s face. Y/N watches from beside Chris, attempting to be subtle with his staring. 

Something about the way Chris looks right now is making Y/N’s body heat up. The expression on his face, the way he’s standing, the way his arms bulge against his black button up. Y/N can’t help but imagine those very arms caging him in and making him feel small, as Chris snaps his hips at a brutal pace, hitting all the right places inside Y/N. 

“It’s totally not what you think! it was Changbin’s idea!” Jisung wails, pointing an accusatory finger at the shorter male next to him. Changbin lets out an offended gasp, lunging at Jisung, his hands attempting to wrap themselves around the younger man’s neck before Jisung can get away. 

Y/N lets out a soft laugh, covering his mouth with his hand, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. The entire interaction is quite amusing, you can tell these three grown men are nothing short of siblings that love to torture each other endlessly.

Chris stops looking at the two idiots trying to kill each other and turns his attention to the h/c haired male at his side, the soft laugh immediately imbedding itself in his brain, and traveling to his gut, a fluttering feeling taking over his body. Hearing the soft noise that came out of Y/N was one Chris will refuse to forget. Chris allows a soft look to take over his features, hoping he doesn’t get caught with hearts in his eyes. He just likes Y/N so much. The blonde is always looking forward to the various outings the company has, hoping to catch Y/N there. Every time there was an outing, Chris was often stopped by other people, conversations he wasn’t interested in distracting him from finding that one person he so desperately wanted to talk to. At the office Christmas party, he was lucky enough to catch Y/N alone, attempting to start up a conversation with said male. Chris, being ever so shy, struggled to keep the conversation going, nervously sipping his eggnog, while Y/N’s eyes often avoided looking at Chris (it was painfully awkward, Seungmin laughs every time he remembers the interaction, Felix has to tell him to stop teasing Y/N). 

Chris has made it his mission to get close to Y/N, not wanting any more awkward interactions with him, which is why he requested Y/N’s help for this project. Chris knows he doesn’t really need Y/N’s help, but it was Minho’s genius idea to get Y/N closer to him. 

“Hyung, if you keep staring at Y/N-hyung, your eyes will get stuck like that!” Jisung says, snapping Chris out of his lovesick  puppy trance. Chris’ eyes go wide before he snaps his head towards Jisung. Jisung visibly pales before he’s booking it out of the office. Changbin throws his head back slightly, letting out a cackle that would put a hyena to shame. 

Y/N’s own e/c eyes go wide at what Jisung said, his face and ears getting warm. He hadn’t even noticed Chris staring, too busy laughing at Changbin and Jisung. Was Chris really staring at him, or was Jisung just trying to cause a distraction so he could make a clean getaway? A large part of Y/N wishes Chris was staring. 

“You should’ve seen your face, hyung! Damn, that was priceless!” Changbin keeps cackling as he walks out of the office, his hands carrying the food he was attempting to steal before he got caught. 

Chris brings his hands to his temples, massaging them with his fingers. He lets an annoyed sigh fall past his lips. Those two are going to give him gray hair one day. Chris turns towards Y/N with a shy smile. 

“I’m so sorry about them, they’re both massive pains in my ass.” Chris says, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck, a chuckle bubbling from his chest. Y/N waves a dismissive hand at Chris, a small smile on his face. 

“It’s no worries, I know your pain,” Y/N says, looking up at Chris with a slight tilt of his head. “I have three pains in my ass, they’re constantly fucking with me.” Y/n rolls his eyes, with a shake of his head, his fringe falling in front of his eyes slightly. 

Chris’ body reacts on instinct, his hand coming up and brushing the hair out of Y/N’s face, a soft, loving expression on his face. Y/N freezes, his eyes widening for the nth time that day. The look on Chris’ face is one he’s never seen before. a look of admiration and want. There’s lust swimming around in those deep brown eyes, Y/N can’t deny it. Chris’ eyes glance down at Y/N’s lips, then back up at his eyes. Chris chews on his bottom lip, as if he’s thinking about something. Finally, he speaks up and those words alone nearly bring Y/N to his knees. 

“Can I kiss you?” Chris whispers, his minty breath fanning Y/N’s face, and Y/N gulps, nodding just a bit, not really trusting his voice. 

“No, I need to hear you say yes or no,” Chris says louder this time, his voice taking on a commanding tone. Hearing Chris speak like that makes Y/N’s legs weak, his mind clouded with thoughts of Chris and Chris only.

“Yes, please kiss me, Chris,” Y/N finally replies, his voice coming out as a desperate whisper. He feels a warm hand on his cheek, the hand lifting his head up slightly. Not too long after, Chris’ lips are on his own. Y/N’s eyes flutter shut as he leans his body closer to Chris, their lips molding together. 

Kissing Chris is everything Y/N has ever dreamed of and more. Chris takes charge of the kiss, his plum lips moving against Y/N’s, ever so gentle. Kissing Chris feels natural, like Y/N was made to do this. The kiss becomes more firm, and both of their mouths open, their tongues wrapping around the other, becoming messy quite fast. Chris wraps his free arm around Y/N’s waist, pushing the smaller male backwards until Y/N’s back hits the edge of Chris’ desk. Y/N doesn’t hesitate to hop up a bit, now sitting on the desk as the two males finally pull away to breathe. 

Chris walks around the desk, standing in front of his black chair. Y/N watches his every move, his breath hitching when he sees Chris beckon him with just two fingers, making a “come here” motion. Y/N complies, hopping off the desk before making his way to the taller male, standing in front of him. Chris’ arms find themselves wrapped around Y/N, tugging the smaller male flush against his muscular body. Chris is drunk off the feeling of Y/N’s body against him. He craves more, he wants to see and feel the smaller male's skin against his own, his hands are itching to touch and grab. 

The pair resumes their makeout session, their hands touching all over each other, pulling at too-tight clothes, but neither of them making the effort to remove their clothes. Chris pulls away from Y/N for a second, before his lips make their way to his neck, latching onto a spot just below the right side of Y/N’s jaw. Chris peppers light kisses around the area, the sound of Y/N’s soft hums hammering in his ears. Chris plants his body in his chair, pulling Y/N down with him, the h/c haired male plopping down on Chris’ thick thighs. Y/N automatically wraps his arms around Chris’ neck. his fingers find comfort in playing with the blonde locks at his nape. Chris goes back to kissing and licking Y/N’s neck, deciding that a red mark would look beautiful against Y/N’s soft skin. He has to stop himself from actually leaving a mark, remembering that they’re at work and if anyone saw the mark on Y/N, the entire building would gossip about it for the next year. 

As Chris moves lower, his lips trailing from Y/N’s neck to the upper part of his collarbones, a knock stops him in his tracks. In a moment of sheer panic, Chris pushes Y/N off of him and motions for him to get under the desk. Y/N obeys, his own heart pumping heavily in his chest. He was in a state of lust, the only thing on his mind being Chris and the kisses he was leaving on his neck. 

“Come in!” Chris calls out once Y/N is hidden completely under the desk, his eyes falling on someone from his department. He tries to keep his annoyance hidden as the person asks questions they totally could have asked someone else. 

Y/N rolls his eyes, then his orbs land on the sight in front of him. Chris, legs spread, his beige slacks a little tight in the crotch area. With very little contemplation, Y/n raises up just a bit, getting closer to Chris’ lower body. With slow movements, he reaches up and tries to unzip Chris’ pants as quietly as possible. He's successful when Chris lets out a loud, albeit very fake, cough. Popping the button of Chris’ pants open, he pulls the black boxers down to sit under Chris’ balls, keeping the fabric out of the way. 

Y/N can’t help but let his jaw drop. Chris has a really, really nice dick. It’s not crazy long, but still a good few inches, and fairly thick. Not very veiny, and the tip is a nice shade of nude pink. Y/N’s mouth nearly waters at the sight. Just like the rest of his body, Chris’ dick is nice to look at.

 Y/N hears the door close just as he wraps his lips around the tip of Chris’ dick, finally that loser is gone. Y/N begins to suck on just the tip, looking up through his lashes, making eye contact with Chris above him. the bigger male’s mouth is parted slightly, short breaths coming from him. Y/N raises his body up just a bit more, sinking lower on Chris’ dick, taking more of the length into his warm mouth. Chris lets out a soft groan, his head lolling back as he digs his nails into the armrests of his chair. It’s honestly too much for him, he feels like he could explode right now if Y/N keeps going. Chris is about to pull Y/N out from under the desk so they can get down to what they both want so desperately before someone barges into his office. Only three people are confident enough to do that. 

Minho lets himself into his friend's office, looking around for something. Minho's eyes fall on Chris, his eyebrow cocking upwards suspiciously. He decides not to question it right now, there will be time for that later.

“Have you seen Jisung? Last I saw him, he was in here with Bin,” Minho says, crossing his arms, looking at Chris, his expression not changing once.

“I, uh, no,” Chris coughs out, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “I mean, he was here with Bin, but neither of them are here now.” Chris tries again, sitting up straight, praying to every god out there that Minho doesn’t catch on to what’s happening under the desk. Y/N uses his hand to stroke Chris’ dick, his mouth occupied with the tip. His tongue swirling around the tip, his head bobbing slightly, his own spit sliding down his chin as he continues. His lips pouting as he slips the tip of his tongue against Chris’ slit. Chris tries his hardest not to bust in Y/N’s mouth, his leg bouncing to distract himself. 

“Huh, well, I guess I’ll go look somewhere else,” Minho says, and a devious glint flashes in his eyes, making Chris sweat more than he already is. “tell Y/N to drink some honey and tea once he’s done.” Minho winks and leaves the room before Chris can say anything to deny what Y/N’s doing. 

Y/N let out a surprised noise, pulling away from Chris’ hard length, his wide eyes locking with Chris’ own wide eyes. There isn’t a moment to feel embarrassed, so the two just laugh it off. 

“I wonder how he knew you were under there,” Chris says, this thumb swiping against Y/N’s chin to wipe the spit that is left there. His eyes not leaving Y/N’s, he puts his thumb into his mouth, tasting the liquid. Something in Y/N’s gut clenched as he watches Chris lick his saliva. He climbs out from under the desk, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side to be forgotten. Chris’ eyes don’t leave Y/N’s movements for a second, his bottom lip getting caught between his perfect teeth. 

Y/N plants himself on Chris’ lap when his shirt is discarded, his arms making their way around Chris’ neck, tugging the older male to his chest. Chris brings his large hands to Y/N’s hips, his lips connecting with Y/N’s prominent collarbones. He bites at the skin there, licking over it to soothe the slight burn. Y/N lets out a soft hum, his hips grinding forward a bit, his own hard on coming in contact with Chris’. The two males groan at the sensation, the both of them loving the way it felt. 

“Oh, fuck,” Chris nearly gowls out, his voice gravelly from arousal. Y/N just laughs a little, swirling his hips in short circles, his clothed dick rubbing against Chris without fail. Chris decides that they’ve had enough of this half-assed foreplay, so his hands work on getting Y/N out of his slacks and boxers. 

Once the two of them are fully naked they make out sloppily, the two of them spitting into each other's mouth back and forth. Their mixed saliva drips onto Chris’ chest, slowly running down his broad chest all the way to his washboard abs. Y/N’s tongue comes out to lick his plump bottom lip, his eyes not leaving Chris’ once. Chris, finally deciding that he’s had enough teasing, pulls away and lifts Y/N up by his hips. Y/N holds his body up, using Chris’ broad shoulders as leverage. Chris uses his free hand to rub the soft skin of Y/N’s ass cheek. He then brings his hand up and slams it down on the skin, causing Y/N to let out a gasp, his body jerking forward at the impact. Chris lets out a mischievous laugh, before he rubs the skin that’s already turning a soft red. 

“Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself,” Chris says, chuckling at the adorable pout on Y/N’s soft face. Chris puckers his lips before placing a gentle peck on the smaller male’s pouty lips. 

Chris decides that it’s time to get to the main event. He taps two fingers against Y/N’s mouth, urging him to part his lips. Y/N obeys Chris’ silent command, parting his lips, allowing Chris to place the two digits on top of Y/N’s tongue. 

“Now suck like the pretty boy you are.” Chris says, his voice low and husky, as he watches Y/N’s lips close around his fingers. Chris feels the wet muscle wiggle its way in between his fingers, the soft pressure of Y/N sucking being the only thing on his mind. Y/N lets out a hum that turns into a needy whine as his hips grind in small circles, his dick rubbing against Chris’ skin just above his abs. Chris chuckles once again as he watches Y/N desperately grind against his upper stomach, trying to get some friction while his mouth is occupied with Chris’ fingers. 

“Are you not getting enough pleasure from humping against my stomach, pretty boy?” Chris asks, his tone mocking and a little mean. Hearing Chris speak in such a tone turns Y/N’s brain into mush. All Y/N can muster up is a whine, still continuing to suck on Chris’ fingers until the digits leave his mouth. Y/N wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, waiting for Chris’ next move. 

“You’re getting impatient, aren’t you, pretty boy?” Chris teases, his wet fingers inching their way to Y/N’s hole. Chris circles his middle finger around the rim a few times before he’s pushing the digit in. He gets the finger all the way in and not long after, his index finger joins in on the fun, Y/N’s breath hitching at the feeling. 

He is getting impatient. He feels like they’ve been touching and kissing for too long, he just wants Chris inside him like right now. 

“Chris, stop teasing and fuck me already..” Y/N says with a desperate tone as Chris uses his two fingers to stretch the smaller male. Chris just snickers, his eyebrow cocking up, his lips turning up in a smirk, and Y/N thinks he could come just from the sight alone. 

“Yeah, you want me to fuck you, pretty boy?” Chris asks, pulling his fingers out, grabbing his hard length and lining it up with Y/N’s hole. He pops the tip inside, his hands moving to grip Y/N’s hips. “then you better get to work, yeah?” 

Y/N wastes absolutely no time, Chris’ words ringing loud like bells in his ears. The younger male sinks his hips down, Chris’ dick stretching him so nicely, his jaw dropping at the pain that feels too good. Y/N sits there for a moment, just getting used to having Chris inside him all the way. This is something right out of his wettest dreams, riding Chris until the two of them are shouting each other’s names, licking and biting tongues and lips. Y/N finally raises up, only the tip remaining inside him, and he slams back down, finding a pace that works for the both of them. 

As Y/N bounces on Chris, the sweet sounds of skin coming in contact is loud in the medium sized office room. The two of them are too blissed out to even think about being quiet, but they decide to just kiss to keep themselves quiet enough. 

Chris suddenly pulls away, and he starts to stand, his arms wrapping around Y/N, the two of them not disconnecting as Chris lifts the smaller male up. Y/N wraps his slender legs around Chris’ waist, the sudden movements catching him off guard. He doesn’t have time to question Chris before he feels Chris absolutely slamming his dick into him. Y/N hides his face in Chris’ neck, biting down on the male’s shoulder to keep from literally screaming. The tip of Chris’ dick hits the special spot inside him, causing him to see stars. As Chris moves his body, Y/N brings his hand down to wrap around his own length, jerking himself off in time with Chris’ thrusting. 

It’s not much longer before Y/N feels Chris’ hips start to stutter, and his thrusts get a little sloppy. Y/N knows he’s about to cum, the way Chris’ face scrunches up a little and his jaw goes slack. Y/N is also getting close, his stomach tightening up as his hand moves up and down at a fast pace. 

“Oh, god, pretty boy,” Chris groans, his blonde curls sticking to his sweaty forehead, his muscles flexing as he grips onto Y/N soft thighs. There will definitely be hand marks left on the skin when they’re all done. “can I cum inside you, please?” Chris nearly begs, his voice going up in pitch as he whines. 

“Yes, please fill me up, Chris,” Y/N replies, throwing head back, exposing his sweaty neck. Chris picks up the pace once again before he slams all the way in, spilling deep into Y/N. Y/N finishes not too long after, white painting across Chris’ chest and abs. Y/N pouts a little, his wrist hurting from jerking it for so long.

The two sweaty males stay as they are for a moment, finally coming to terms with what they just did. Y/N chews at his bottom lip as he comes down from his high. Was this just a one time thing? Were they going to do it again? What does this mean for them as friends? Y/N’s head is swimming with questions and concerns, and he tucks his head into Chris’ neck, breathing in the man’s natural scent mixed with his cologne. 

“Hey, don’t go falling asleep on me, pretty boy, we have to clean up.” Chris says, his hand rubbing slow circles on Y/N’s back, the gesture lulling the smaller man to sleep. Chris just chuckles before he reaches for a bag of wet wipes in the drawer of his desk. He finally pulls out, placing the sleepy man on his chair. He takes out a wet wipe and wipes off his chest and abs.

After they clean up and get dressed, Chris clears his throat and turns towards Y/N. He looks nervous, like he wants to say something, but his mouth just won’t move. Y/N tilts his head to the side, a curious look playing on his features. 

“You look like you want to say something,” Y/N points out, hoping that will help the blonde gather his thoughts. Chris simply nods before speaking:

“Do you want to come over for dinner? As in, a date?”

[thethreeeyed-raven]

I humbly submit this request, as I was on character ai and started playing with this prompt, but the damn ai is...so bad at story aspects or...boundaries xD.

If you're cool with doing it, could you perhaps do something with morpheus having been trying to follow the advice of his sister death, I randomly pops into the waking world to try and...socialize with humans. Where he knocks into y/n, who profusely apologizes and offers him a cup of coffee.

She leads him to her bakery that she owns and works at. Letting him sit wherever he wants, she grabs him hsi coffee of choice before starting to bake a new treat, not really following a recipe, but the smell attracts the endlesses attention. He requests some treats and y/n offers him to try out these that they're making. And when they're finally done morpheus's face just melts with delight. And every night he keeps coming back enjoying her baking and voice.

ITS COMPLETELY COOL IF YOU DONT WANNA, PLEASE HYDRATE AND REST

the bakery

navigation | warnings : none? | a/n : i did change it a little bit, and i didn’t add the last part, i could make a part 2 for the last bit, pls lmk if that’s something you want, enjoy! | dream of the endless playlist | tags : @knight-of-flowerss , @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

The dream lord was bored.

He was hardly ever bored, except when he was trapped in that fish bowl for one hundred years...

Once again, Morpheus was sat pondering about what he could do. It was when he remembered his sister, Death's advice.

"So go out there and find a new one."

The 'new one' which she was talking about was a 'game'.

Dream liked to play games. And now it was over, he needed to find a new one.

The time was half past nine at night when you were walking down the street with a mountain of boxes in your arms.

The boxes were far too large for you to see over the top of them.

As you continued your walk, you didn't notice the man that was walking the opposite way in front of you.

It seems neither did he as his gaze was fixed to the floor before there was a loud crash.

You groaned as you looked at all of the spread boxes of pastry samples and then you fixed your attention on the man knelt in front of you.

Forgetting about the boxes, your stare was fixed on the elegant creature in front of you.

It owned soft, pale skin, with eyes that held all of the universes and galaxies within its twinkling irises.

It owned delicate, blood red lips, and dark, midnight black, unkept hair.

The creature was a man, but his aura was other-worldly, as was his graceful beauty.

Finally, you came to your senses, muttering apologies as you scampered to collect the fallen boxes. Morpheus analysed you carefully, you seemed like a normal person, but something about you was pulling him in.

"You needn't apologise." His deep, raspy voice stirred something inside of you.

"I...no, really, I should" You paused, before letting out an awkward laugh. "I should've got someone to help me with these."

The both of you rose to your feet. "Perhaps, I could help you." Dream seemed hesitant, but Death's words kept playing in his head.

"Really? Thank you so much!"

He grabbed the top box that was blocking your vision, and your eyes met.

It felt like the world stopped, and you could finally get a good look at them. As you both gazed, you took notice of the ring of cold blue, and the stars that shined inside.

Morpheus stopped to get another good look at you too. He liked the way you looked at him, like you had never seen something like him before. You probably haven't.

Your eyes widened when you realised you'd been caught. "I-It's this way."

"I'm really sorry for wasting your time..." You looked at him expectantly.

"Morpheus."

Strange, you thought.

"Morpheus." You smiled before feeling around your pockets for your house keys. You grabbed onto them before reaching back into your pocket.

"I have a bakery just down the road, if you'd like to visit one day." You handed him the pale blue card. "I could bake you something, as a thanks for helping me."

The silence was loud as Dream just held the card, looking at it. This kindness was new to him, you were just a stranger.

Why were you being so nice?

"Maybe."

Giving him a small nod, you unlocked the door and went inside, placing the boxes in the hallway. "Thank you again!"

Interesting, thought Morpheus.

[chaotic-orphan]

Could you write a story where a king who outlawed magical beings (like fae, elves, sorcerers, etc Bc they’ve tried to kill him multiple times ) has a trial for a young magical creature found in his lands, but the creature isn’t evil, didn’t even KNOW they were trespassing, and is terrified they’re gonna be executed or tortured or something. But the king doesn’t hurt it, since the magical being didn’t mean any harm? Could turn into found family or he just lets it go or something

Love ur writing!!

A Benignant Mischief

@annablogsposts THIS ASK HAS CONSUMED MY EVERY WAKING THOUGHT SINCE I GOT IT! IN THE MIDST OF FEBUWHUMP NO DOUBT! THE GALL, THE NERVE!!!! I must say, this idea has taken hold of a good chunk of my brain and I have just been obsessed with Cosimo and Henrik (who will be introduced in part two), I hope you love them as much as I do. There is far more than this part written, but I had to divide it up to get some of it published so you didn't think it was just collecting dust in my inbox.

Thank you so much for this ask, it has rekindled an obsession with writing plot that isn't exclusively whump?! If that makes sense. I hope you enjoy it!

*~*~*~*~*

Cosimo ran through the forest with a sharp urgency, an unconscious boy cradled close to his chest as he went. The rain pattered down on his head as he ran, bare feet clawing at the ground to keep his grip. To an onlooker he could have been running on plain terrain instead over the wiry and rough forest, leaves slick with water; as if he were one with the Earth; knew every root, every nettle and broken tree bows that he hopped over with graceful ease.

His sharp eyes searched the forest frantically, pleading for a shelter to open up to them. Ahead was a wooden fence, tree branches crisscrossing before him like a blockade. Cosimo bowed his head and turned to the side, curling his upper body around the smaller one in his arms. Branches snapped and scratched at him as he pushed his way through with a determined resolve.

When he finally emerged from the branches, he found what he knew would be waiting for him. A small burrow made in a circle of trees, an opening in the trunk of a thick elfbow tree, the size of three fully grown oaks. A shelter mercifully presenting itself. Cosimo let out a soft sigh and whispered a soft thank you to the forest for providing.

His limbs grew heavier and heavier the closer he got to rest, but he walked on, slower now but just as strong as he was when he set out from court. He lay the boy in his arms down on a bed of leaves for the moment under the shelter of the elfbow. Cosimo touched the trunk as he entered, his heart feeling full as he did.

“Thank you protecting us,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to the entrance. Then he pressed his knuckles against the unconscious boy’s forehead, letting out a soft sigh. He was okay. Not as hot as he was before. Cosimo would gather food and herbs tomorrow to help the fever, but at least he was stable for now.

Cosimo took off his pack that he had hastily gathered from home. Two blankets, two pillows, a canteen of water, a hunting knife — just the essentials.

“The very bare necessities, Cosimo,” Cosimo chastised himself with a sigh, running a hand through his soaked hair flicking the rain from it. Cosimo put a pillow under the boy’s head and wrapped him in a blanket to keep him warm. Cosimo sat with back against the trunk of the tree, arms wrapped around his knees that he hugged to his chest and just watched the rain patted down on leaves outside the elfbow. The gloomy grey of the evening bled into a darker, broodier grey but the rain let up before night fell with its coat of deep purples and midnight blues.

Cosimo didn’t know at what point he fell asleep, but he woke to footsteps cracking the leaves beneath its feet and he was immediately alert. His hand shot and grabbed the hunting knife, unsheathing it and lunging forward teeth bared.

He came face to snout with a fox that was frozen in place, brown eyes meeting Cosimo’s with a slightly dazed and stunned glimmer to them. Cosimo let out a breath that reflected on the air with a rolling wave of smoke, before settling back into the nook-like shelter of the elfbow. The fox didn’t retreat, instead he sniffed the air and timidly took a step towards Cosimo and the unconscious boy beside him.

Cosimo inclined his head slightly and the fox entered the elfbow with all the inquisitiveness of a cat trying to sniff out the source of fish. The fox turned his head to the boy, and glancing back at Cosimo quickly for permission he curled up on the unconscious boy’s chest. Curling into a little ball on top of him, deep brown eyes meeting Cosimo’s again before closing half-lidded.

Emotion clogged Cosimo’s throat as he reached out to pet the fox, allowing the animal to sniff his hand before allowing the affection.

“See?” Cosimo whispered to the air. “You’re not nobody. You’re like me.”

Cosimo didn’t sleep exactly, but he at least got some semblance of rest before Dawn broke and he woke with it. He looked down at the sleeping boy, who was still asleep, the fox now curled up to the boy’s side. Cosimo reached his hand out and brushed the boy’s hair back from his forehead to feel it.

He was warm, not too hot. Maybe the fever had passed with the rain? Cosimo didn’t know enough about it, but he knew the rejuvenation powers of rain that came with him so he suspected maybe it could be the saviour of the boy too.

Cosimo drank some water from the canteen before grabbing the empty rucksack he took with him and slinging it over his shoulder across his body. He took the water and the hunting knife and set off about the day. When he exited the elfbow the sun was only starting to rise, birds heralding the morning.

Cosimo looked back to the sleeping boy and the fox. He pressed his hand to the tree and leaned his forehead into the back of his palm.

Protect them, please. I’ll return with food.

Cosimo felt the rush of feeling that flooded him when he felt around nature. Then he turned and walked out of the small clearing and into the embrace of the forest again. He remembered hearing running water when he was running with the boy, the sound distinct from the patter of the rain.

The dense woods were not nearly as imposing as they were the night before, when Cosimo’s thoughts were on finding shelter and nothing else. There should be some mushrooms nearby he could roast, maybe some berry bushes if he was lucky and water. Not enough to feed them properly, but to sustain them? It would be enough.

Cosimo found the stream under a thicket of leaves. It was slightly lower than the ground that Cosimo was on, so he simply extended a leg and slid down the bank to the stream, opening his canteen as he went. His feet settled into the damp earth, and he crouched down to refill the canteen. Not before drinking the last of the remaining water.

He heard a huff from his left so Cosimo glanced towards the sound and saw a horse lapping up water from the stream. Cosimo froze like the fox had the night before, before kicking himself into action. He sprung up, canteen forgotten in the stream and bolted back up the bank, his fingers clawing into the clay.

He scrambled to the top and was met with a pair of legs. There was a flash and a pressure on his chest and Cosimo was airborne, gravity grabbing at him and bringing him down hard into the outer bank of the stream. Cosimo let out a gasp of air on impact but quickly sprung to his feet and turned to hop the stream to the other side.

A hand grabbed him by the strap of his rucksack, and he was yanked backwards. “Hey! Wait!” Cosimo cried, bringing an elbow back sharply and his head back too. He slipped under the strap of his bag and grabbed the hunting knife and hopped the stream with ease. He didn’t look back.

Humans were bad. They killed people like him, there shouldn’t even be any for miles around!

Cosimo climbed up the opposite bank of earth with deft speed and hoisted himself to the other side, knife ready in one hand, the sheath in his other with one thought and one thought only — to go back to the boy in the elfbow.

He didn’t account for more soldiers to be on the other side of the stream. Cosimo froze again when he was first recognised by another man. They were all fully grown humans. Cosimo had yet to pass his fifteenth year, at least he had a slight boost in height, but he was too skinny to fight.

There wasn’t time to think before a hand was bunched in his shirt again. Cosimo whirled on his heel, slashing out blindly with the knife. The blade cut into the soldier’s cheek Cosimo realised with wide eyes, and the Soldier let him go. Cosimo fell to the side at the sudden lack of force holding him, but quickly got his bearings again and ran to the right of the soldier’s camp.

An arrow whizzed by his ear, startling him and Cosimo lunged to the left only to be caught with a kick to his leg. Cosimo stumbled but remained standing, turning to his new attacker baring his teeth only to get a punch to the face. Cosimo’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell, stiff as an oak onto the forest floor.

A boot stomped down onto Cosimo’s wrist wielding the knife and Cosimo cried out, reaching over with his free hand to paw at the boot but it wouldn’t budge. A knee to the chest followed and Cosimo cried out, trying to wiggle himself free but the human was too heavy. Whether his weight was from his diet or the weight of the uniform of metal that the man wore Cosimo didn’t know.

“Well, well, well,” the human man remarked. Cosimo swallowed the lump in his throat, struggling to free himself from the man’s pin. “You’re only a baby, aren’t you?”

Cosimo bared his teeth in response. They were so close to where Cosimo had left the boy and the fox, and he prayed that the elfbow would protect them from the soldiers.

“Let go of me,” Cosimo demanded, eyes blazing up at the man. The man smiled, something wicked twinkling in his eyes.

“Have you run away from home? You do know what we do to your people in these parts, don’t you?”

Cosimo let out a cry of frustration at trying and failing pathetically to free himself from the man’s grip.

“Please,” Cosimo said. “I don’t mean you any harm. I was just coming for water.”

“Won’t do harm my arse,” the soldier that Cosimo cut ground out, fury winding his features tight. Cosimo didn’t see him lift his leg, but his head whipped to the side with the impact. Cosimo righted his head too early as the man he injured stomped a foot down on Cosimo’s face.

Cosimo heard the bones in his nose crack inside his head while he screamed out loud, a quiet whimper following after his scream died in his throat.

“Hey!” The soldier pinning Cosimo growled. “You can’t kill it. They must be brought to court before their execution.”

Execution?

Cosimo’s struggles to break free renewed at the thoughts of the soldiers taking him away from the boy. “No! No, you can’t! I can’t leave the forest, please!”

The man above him tilted his lips down into a frown. “Sorry kid. Orders are orders, we have to bring ya in.”

“Don’t talk to it like it’s a child,” the angry soldier scolded. The man on top of him reached over and plucked the knife from Cosimo’s grip. Cosimo let out a soft whine at the object of his defence leaving his grasp.

“Just get the irons and let me deal with h—” the man above him said, then corrected himself, glancing down at Cosimo with a frown. “It.”

The angry man stormed off out of sight. Cosimo just stared above at the man still pining him to the forest floor.

“Please…” Cosimo tried. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Like I said kid,” said the man. “There has to be a trial in front of the king.”

Cosimo’s eyes widened significantly. There wasn’t a king for miles around court… how far had Cosimo travelled, and in what direction? The question lingered on his tongue, and he wanted to voice it, but thought better of asking the enemy… or even worse, letting them know just how clueless Cosimo really was.

The man stared down at Cosimo with a stern glance. “I’m going to get you to sit up, if you try to escape, we will catch you, and the other soldiers will hurt you again. Do you understand?”

Cosimo nodded. He hated himself for it, but he had to listen to this man. He seemed to be the only one who didn’t want him dead at that moment. The angry soldier returned with two bands of metal attached together with a thick link of metal between them.

“What— what are they?” Cosimo asked, his voice cracking with fear. The soldier helped Cosimo to sit up which caused a wicked amount of pain in his nose to flare up and Cosimo grunted with the effort.

The man took the metal from the angry soldier and dismissed him with a wave. The other soldier didn’t want to listen but obeyed the man when he told him to go verbally.

The man opened the metal loop and showed it to Cosimo, saying with a reassuring smile: “They open like this, see?”

Cosimo leaned in closer to inspect the metal. “What do they do?” He asked, a little less scared at seeing them up close. The man lifted his hand and put the metal over his own wrist.

“They tighten over your wrist like this, see? They lock— well, they essentially keep your hands tied behind your back so you can’t hurt someone again.”

Not have use of his hands. Cosimo shook his head vehemently. “No. No. I won’t hurt anyone else; I promise. Don’t put them on me.”

The man’s smile faded back into a frown. “I’m sorry, but I have to. Please don’t fight me. I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

Cosimo was trembling in the man’s hands, but he nodded his consent for the man to grab Cosimo’s wrist. Cosimo screamed when the metal touched his wrist and bolted back away from the man.

“Wait! Please! Please! Wait! Ow, please! I won’t hurt anyone!” The man caught Cosimo’s ankle before he could get further away from him and dragged him back. “Please don’t. Please! I’ll be good.”

A shadow crossed the man’s face as he grabbed Cosimo’s arm and pulled it behind Cosimo’s back before locking the second cuff around Cosimo’s wrist.

Cosimo let out a hiss as the metal burned a circle around his wrists, tears coming to his eyes. “Please, I’m sorry. Take them off. I’m sorry. What— agh! What is it?!”

The man grabbed Cosimo’s arms to stop him struggling more and hurting himself. “Iron. It’s a metal that is poisonous to your kind.”

“Please,” Cosimo whispered, the plea coming out soft and childish, fat tears trailing down his cheeks. “Please take them off.”

“I can’t,” said the man. “I’m sorry,” and it sounded like he meant it. The man then got to his feet and waited patiently for Cosimo to do the same. Cosimo pushed himself up, his balance going off and he hissed as he moved his hands to catch himself. All they touched was iron and it burned. The man put a hand under Cosimo’s armpits once he saw the boy struggling and helped him into a standing position.

“Thank you,” Cosimo said, the words like ash on his tongue. Thanking humans now? What would court think of him? His mind trailed back to the boy in the elfbow and guilt flood his body as he was pushed forward gently by the man.

“Change of plan, boys. We are bringing this one back to the King.”

One of the other men stood up, his face the shape of a weasels; small wisps of hair clung to his upper lip and chin in what Cosimo could only assume was supposed to be a beard and a moustache. The soldier lifted his nose high in the air when he looked up at Cosimo, grinning up at him and revealing yellowing teeth.

“It’s not even fully grown,” said the soldier with a high-pitched voice. The nice man holding Cosimo scoffed and pushed Cosimo forward again.

“Either are you, McClagen.”

“Does it know that we kill things like that?” McClagen sneered. The man didn’t reply, but Cosimo’s fate weighed heavy on him, heavier than a cloak made of stone. He frowned as the nice man led him passed the other Soldiers readying to take off again.

—

Continued here

[luckyqueenreign]

Final thoughts….

Yep it’s official LITG fully gave up on us being the main character. Because how the hell do we walk back into the bedroom, everyone gets to talk about our night but us??? Not even a dumb ass “sister chat” to debrief?!

Then the final date outfits… fb really couldn’t be bothered to add in another outfit or two??? Look I hate how much they cost as much as the next person.. and I definitely have been swapping between like three dresses all season but this is final dates!!

So we knew from the texts adventure date = yacht and romantic date = beach date. I’m sorry but what’s adventurous about a yacht?? Lol. I love how ozzy keeps saying he doesn’t care about how the other dates are going and ours is better but then asks how we think the other dates are going. I thought we didn’t care about them?!?! Also reading through this date and spending TWENTY NINE gems for that cringe fest when playing THTH the dates and everything is FREE and you actually have good convos with ur dates. And he’s really just gonna keep repeating that he has a “special question” to ask us… bruh 🙄 YOU SHOULDVE ASKED LAST NIGHT

All MC could say about her date was we got on a yacht and Ozzy popped open a bottle of bubbly. It was a proper adventurous. LOL I mean if you say so! WHATS WITH ALL THE PRANKS THIS SEASON??? Pranks are the new feet!!! Pls stop hyperfixating on one thing and making it the entire seasons personality. Why was lewie in a suit?? You mean to tell me he’s rather workout in a suit rather than change into something more comfortable, in the middle of summer… in mallorca??

Grace babe!! It’s time to move on!! Picking a dress to make Ozzy regret his decision?! GIRL! Maybe that’s why he wants to ask us to be his gf in front of everyone at declarations..ok I already knew this was coming but Amelia saying it now in dress shopping makes it real he’s def gonna ask her to be his gf and Ozzy is gonna ask us… UGHHHHHHHH

The Ozzy dance and the bits scene after was cute but it seems like they’re trying to cram in as much bits as possible. I’m not complaining but wish we had more opportunities throughout the season with Ozzy.

At this point Ozzy better propose. I’m not here for the LITG proposals AT ALL but we need to one up Amelia. I will not stand for us being the same!!! Grace and Marshall’s speeches were weird that they mentioned Ozzy in them at all. Same with Bella and Lewie. Like everyone just needs to move on! Dying at the lack of spell check “your amazing good lucks” I stared at that for at least a minute, flabbergasted they really spelled looks like that. I’m sorry EXCLUSIVE?!?! That’s it??? He could’ve added in he wanted us to move in together… an i love you… something!!

Ok idk if this has bothered anyone else this season but MC has gotten like 95% of the texts all season. And now at the finale you’re making her read out the entire final?? At least make other islanders read too!

As much as obviously I loved winning. If Amelia had won but Toby stole the money I actually would’ve been just as happy. I wish there was a scenario where this could happen, so if you wanted the happy ending u could have it but if you wanted absolute chaos then that was an option too.

HAMISH LMAOOO. Best. Choice. Ever. I know my Hamish girlies are gonna be so happy with the choice to leave the villa with him 🤣

And another season coming already… ugh lol

[alpineshift]

Hi! Prompts! Yay!

I really loved the miscommunication April prompt fic so I wonder if you could please use that world for prompt 23. I thought I lost you. ? Except it’s just Nico being over dramatic when he can’t find Jack on the magic school campus (he’s just in the library basement trying to find a rare book for his latest research paper).

(More thoughts: I love the idea Nico being the softy cute dramatic one & Jack is just like why my guy? I know I look good but no one wants a pretty face that has opinions (only want that pretty mouth for other things). So he’s kinda suspicious and that’s also why the flowers were such an insult!!!! Because Jack took it as ‘I don’t want you for your thoughts, just be pretty & dumb for me’ and that’s happened so many times before that he’s had Enough. And has started to respect himself more (no dick is worth being undervalued like that) so courting Nico is a Big Deal. And sometimes he hides out in the library buried under his books & research. But nico thinks he’s lost! And searches all the other libraries and greenhouses before finding him. And Jack has to reassure him that no I do like spending time with you I’m not hiding from u but this is new because I haven’t been courted / dated someone before that o want to make it work with and it’s a lot to process. And Nico reassures him like baby I love that u study pls let me proof read ur drafts (j’s sentences are too long because he writes like he thinks so there’s no breaks which is also how I write oops) and rant to me about the archaic views you read about today.

(then they fuck about it) and they all lived happily ever after

lol this is probably longer than ur bullet stories would be but here ya go 🎁

anon I think you may have already written the prompt yourself LOOL (ilu ❤️). for context, this is the OG miscommunication prompt fill!

23. “I thought I’d lost you.”

After their absolutely ridiculous first meeting (and first misunderstanding!) Nico, understandably, takes it slow with courting Jack.

Slow, because he thinks it's unwise to go all in for a fresh relationship anyway, unintentional offences notwithstanding, but also slow because Nico's paranoid he's going to make another awful faux pas and gift Jack flowers that accidentally says his ass is flat or something. He's spending an absurd of time researching American courting culture and losing sleep over it.

"Just bring him out to dinner and go for a walk to see the sunset," Timo tells him, exasperated. "You're trying to date a guy, not an alien from outer space."

Look, Nico just wants to do a good job, okay? And hopefully charm himself into Jack's good graces while he's at it. Except, it's getting weirdly difficult to find Jack, to bring him food or gifts or ask him out on a date. The Bern Campus isn't actually that big; where on earth can Jack be? He wanders across the grounds, trying and failing not to look like a sad puppy as he searches for the other witch. What did he do wrong? Was it too late to beg for forgiveness?

And suddenly--there's a frenzy of people rushing down to the lake. "One of the Americans fell in!"

Nico nearly pulls a muscle rushing over, only to stop short when he sees one of Jack's colleagues crawling out of the water (he remembers them; he was one of the few snickering the night Nico insulted Jack with the flowers), furiously embarrassed after getting caught goofing off in a restricted area on the docks. And suddenly, there's someone standing next to him, a snort, and a familiar voice. "Man, way to live up to the asshole stereotypes, just what we needed."

It's Jack, in broad daylight, kind of under-dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt, chilling next to him. Nico gapes at him before Jack glances over, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Uh, Nico? You ok--?" And Nico just pulls him into a hug and blurts out, "I thought I'd lost you."

He'd be mortified at his own admission if he didn't hear Jack's breathing hitch by his ear, and feel Jack's arms immediately rest along the spot between his shoulder blades, hugging Nico back. "Lost me? But I'm right here?"

So Nico had been half-right; Jack isn't avoiding him, but he did lose track of time working in the basement of the library. Jack also doesn't hate him, but he does have a bit of a hard time believing Nico has no ulterior motives when it came to quote unquote 'buttering him up'

"People are assholes, Hischier, and I'm not saying you are but, look, there's just been a few jerks lately with all their assumptions that's put me off dating for little while, alright? They think they can send me cupid-charm cards or pay for dinner once and I take my pants off for them."

"Then I'll court you until you say you're ready to date, if you ever want that at all. We go at your pace, we pause when you think I'm being too much, and if you realize you don't like me at all--well, we'll call it off." (It hurts to say it, but more than anything, Nico just wants to reassure Jack). "I can respect that, I promise."

He needn't have worried, honestly. Because there's a slow, flustered smile creeping up on Jack's face, and his cheeks are rosy with the most endearing blush. "Well, hang on. I didn't say anything about calling anything off. Fuck, let's get outta here--last thing I want is an audience when we talk about our feelings. And the basement's actually not half bad."

send me a jacknico prompt!