#like maybe hes always felt drawn to you and was holding himself back and then he learns youre canon and like?

[anadiasmount]

Could you write something about jude realising he’s in love with you (so just his pov)

Just him alone in his room maybe and after so much time denying his feelings he lets himself feel for a little and then realises there’s no back to normal, he’s completely head over heels for you

wait i actually love this?? lmk what you think for future purposes 🤭🤍

while jude always denied to idea of love, falling in love, being in love, there was certain exceptions he made just for you. only you. how he could deny that bubbly and tingly feeling when he saw that smile crawl up to your face?

hear you constantly gush, praise, and adore him about how incredibly he was to you. what you didn’t know is that only you were the only one he was doing this too. he should’ve seen it coming after the first month of him in madrid, new, afraid, yet excited to take on his first season.

while jude sometimes felt shy, with you it was like being a whole complete person. his friends would see it, mom and dad, he’ll even jibe was asking what made this new persona in him suddenly change. it was your effect.

yet here was jude sulking with the biggest frown on his face, his thumbs brushing against the screen debating whether or not to send you a message or just say fuck it and call you. jude knew you would be busy studying on a saturday night, especially since your mid terms were coming up. thinking about how you forced him to help you study your flashcards and he took the whole act seriously.

jude felt out of place, and all he wanted was to be with you so desperately. the longing feeling, to feel how you curl up next to him, blabber about the tiktoks you see or your professor who seemed to teach the opposite of what they were supposed to. why did he feel so desperate, the itch becoming more difficult to the point where his chest would begin to pang with pain at the thought of you not there.

“just call her bro, what do you have to lose?” jude’s teammate encouraged over the phone, jude sideyeing him before he gave up and did just that. he typed out your number, wanting to remember it because he never knew when he may need it. the bubble of excitement yet nerves built insides him, jude sipping on his tea before he heard your tired voice.

“hi jude, to what do i owe this pleasure?” you teased, jude holding back a chuckle before replying. “ha ha, very funny. what are you up to right now?” he asked playing with the strings of his hoodie, “i just finished studying for the night, i couldn’t focus properly but it was the same material from this whole week,” you sighed. “is everything okay?” jude asked, practically seeing your nod over the phone. “yes it is now.”

“do you want to come over?”

if jude spent another hour debating he would’ve lost it. but now that you were here, right where he wanted, he wasn’t going to let you go. “okay cookies are made!” you said excitedly, jus expressing behind you and kissing your head. his normal and lovey habit. which you didn’t refuse either. “i picked out a few movies we can watch in the mean time,” he said dragging you to the couch.

jude’s heart couldn’t stop racing. he felt like he could’ve exploded any second now. your scent, the homey feeling, your smile, your touch it was driving him insane. he knew it was beyond playful feelings. he was head over heels for you, and if he didn’t confess now he would regret it later on. he shifted in his spot, making you pull away from him while still watching the tv. “come back here,” jude pouted.

“you’re so needy,” you joked but it was the whole truth. “y/n?” jude’s voice trembled, your eyes drawn to his immediately to ensure he was okay. jude felt a cold tingle spread down his spine, feeling more alive then ever. “what’s wrong-”

“you know you mean the world to me right?” jude started shifting up and getting closer to you, your touch hot against his hands. “i do?” jude nodded, tracing his initials against your skin. “you’re my whole world, y/n…”

“jude stop joking like that,” you pulled away, looking him up and down, but you could tell something felt different from this, from usual times. “i’m not, im being serious right now. i’ve avoided it forever with fear of hurting you or what we have but i don’t care about that now. i’m done waiting and avoiding how i feel,” jude stressed.

“what are you saying,” you asked, jude’s heart wrenching and pounding louder then when he played a game. “i’m saying that i love you and i have for the longest now,” jude said staring into your eyes but all he heard was laughter escaping your lips. “yeah you’ve lost it now,” you got up and went to the kitchen unable to get rid of the gut feeling.

jude was more nervous then ever, your small rejection getting to him more then it should’ve. “y/n why would i lie to you about something like that? you’re all i think about day and night. during training, when i see those silly panda stickers all over my room, or that damn scent you have engraved here,” he pointed to his chest.

“i’m so incredibly in love with you y/n. im tired of just pushing my feelings away because i was being selfish. im ready now, im ready for you. for us. i want to whatever it takes to make you happy with me. all i want is you, you y/n,” jude cried out, his voice pleading the hear him out. to take him out the misery he felt. for you to confess as well.

“jude-”

“y/n please say you love me back… that’s there’s a chance for us, please my love…”

[weebsinstash]

Ok no I'm not done being weird yet, here's another idea for the marriage canon event stuff

Miguel and other Spiders are getting on your ass about, "oh, how old are you now? Why aren't you looking for a husband yet? Why are you spending so much time here?" And are, you know, your friends who love you and for your own good are trying to get you to complete your canon so you, you know, LIVE, but the way you see it is, being forced to do something like that and sacrifice yourself like that isn't living. You're not going to actively pursue and seek out a relationship, you want one to happen naturally, and nothing has felt natural to you and you're afraid of being hurt like that, of being rejected, of opening yourself up to someone and not being good enough, but, O'Hara and the Society don't really want to hear that. It's escalating over time. Little comments here and there, people randomly interjecting their personal anecdotes about their family and their kids into the conversation, "oh this is just like when me and Mary Jane--" "oh my kid loves this flavor, she gets so excited, I like to be naughty and get her these as a treat"

So you reach the point where you're fed up. This is so massively fucking inappropriate of them. There's no "set age" for this kind of thing so why are they harassing you like this, acting like, oh, you gotta hurry and pursue shit right now, it's for your own good? It's just pissing you off and pushing you away. You love traveling to different dimensions and exploring new places and experiencing things that are literally out of this world but if the trade-off for that is constantly being badgered with this stupid narrative of having to sacrifice yourself, you'll happily go home and break canon and die, because at least you'll be truly living and making a choice

So anyways to get to the meat of this post: you've decided you're leaving the Spider Society and you're not going to talk to any of these bitches anymore, just haven't fully decided on when, but like, you're literally thinking within the next week, but you're still, there. And one day you're in the lobby, trying to stand around because you're supposed to go on some sort of stupid assignment, Peter B and Jess with you, the parents talking about baby stuff as you roll your eyes and Peter suspiciously needs you to keep holding Mayday until you're literally refusing, "just put her on the ground or something, you let her climb on walls and shit anyways"

And because you're in the lobby, this big open space with tons of people passing through, suddenly in walks Miguel with. Another Miguel, completely unrelated to the mission you and the others are about to do, kind of just bumping into each other as they pass through. Miguel2 just got scouted by his counterpart that he met during chasing an anomaly, and they're getting to know each other, and at some point Miguel2 is like "can my wife come too 🥺👉👈 she's also a Spider and I can't be here without her" and everyone is a little confused because there's supposed to be the whole only 'one Spider per dimension' rule besides like family, like Peter and Mayday, and you'll just never guess whose alternate universe variant is his wife :) another you comes bounding in wearing casual baggy clothes but looks so radiant and happy, all "hubby 🥰" as she kisses her husband, you're just awkwardly sending glances to 'your' Miguel as you two are, understandably feeling awkward because, you're, coworkers, and here are two people who look exactly like you being all lovey dovey "princesa 🥰" "guapito 🥰"

This other you just seems so, VIBRANT and she's introducing herself and shaking hands and she sees Peter B, "oh my god you have a baby, I'm so happy for you, she's so cute!" And she's hugging him, and you watch Peter B's eyes go kind of wide and he looks down, "OH, you're like--" and Other You just kind of laughs and parts her coat, showing off her rounded tummy, "haha yeah, there's a baby in there! Number 3, we're so excited! 🥰" and you're just. Simultaneously feeling some sort of fucked up combination of the most visceral and extreme discomfort you've ever felt in your entire life and also some kind of. Envy. Because she has everything you thought you didn't want and she seems so, SO fucking happy, with a husband who loves her, she clearly loves her babies, and she's being accepted by all of your friends instantly, like they're all gathered around talking as you're just, basically on the outside of the circle, actively putting up distance, only standing around because, uh hey guys weren't we supposed to be doing something--

Your skin is crawling as Other You uses her own watch from her husband to zip back to her own dimension and comes back with her babies on each hip, twins that she's just so happy to introduce to her new friends, who are SUPPOSED to be YOUR friends, "THIS one is Gabriella, and this one is Gabriel. Aren't they so cute? 🥰 theyre both so chunky they almost killed me but it was SO worth it" And once she realizes you're you, or, you're her, she wants to immediately chat you up and be buddy-buddy and goes to hand one of her babies to you and you. Refuse. Absolutely refuse. Suddenly you're the pariah of the group, both Miguels are sending you looks. Why are you being so fucking rude? Just put your arms out??? But you won't. You're just, soul-suckingly disgusted by this entire scenario. Not only is it putting an unspoken pressure onto you, but, seeing this other you be so fucking happy AND accomplishing all the things your "friends" have been badgering you about makes you feel SO indescribably insecure

Fine. Let it be like a revolving door. Another you enters Spider Society, one of you leaves. But you're so bitter and hurt you can't help but get in a jab at her, wanting to tarnish her "fake" happiness, feeling so personally hurt and offended by her very presence and existence in the room. "Hey so wouldn't your babies also be Spiders and have to suffer through the canon events too? And since you don't have any other family members, your kids' canon events might be YOU or Miguel dying? Aren't you glad you gave birth to your kids only to die and leave them without a mom and dad and forever doom them to a narrative where they can never make their own choices and are cosmically destined to be unhappy just because YOU wanted a cute baby? Sorry I guess I'm just built different. Hey remember how when we were little girls and we used to feel like mom only gave birth to us because she wanted someone who would love her and we resented her for bringing us into the world to have such a harsh life, aren't you so happy that's EXACTLY how your kids are going to feel about YOU?"

Mom!You is instantly bursting into tears and holding her little belly for comfort as her husband looks ready to tear you to ribbons, FURIOUS, all the healthy people in the room understandably disappointed and upset with you, like what the FUCK girl, meanwhile you're opening up a portal to your home dimension and just chucking your watch straight into the floor. "Keep this. I won't be coming back" while everyone is kind of dismissive of how truly upset you are, kind of just like "come on, don't be like this 🙄" like you're throwing a tantrum when in actuality you're going home and are seriously considering selling Osborne or Doc Ock all of your radioactive eggs. You'll always be YOU before you're a Spider, and if they want to force you to put The Job above yourself your entire life, they're dead wrong.

Meanwhile after you leave, pulling each other aside for privacy, Miguel2 is asking your Miguel why he's risking breaking his own canon by not wife-ing you up yet and comparing notes from all of the other dimensions where you and him are together as your Miguel is shocked by the sheer number of same occurrences. Miguel is all on about, "what does this even mean, we're from entirely different dimensions", and Miguel2 over here just unapologetically, "so? My wife is also from another dimension, I just took her, she got used to it, it's totally fine bro, it's canon, just do it, just do whatever you want. it's fine bro I'M TELLING YOU--" and maybe even Mom!You is so, sucked into her own "it's ok I was initially forced into this because I'm happy now" world that she's even advocating, "oh gosh if I was her I'd be SO lonely, hearing how you two aren't even that close, especially not anymore, and you've all been avoiding her, and she doesn't even have a baby to care for and give her love 🥺 most 'me's are at least dating right now, so, i bet she's feeling so much pain, she NEEDS YOU right now 🥺"

Peter B is sent to give you another watch and tell you, it's ok, you can come back, they promise they're not gonna bug you about dating and stuff anymore, and you're just all "nah, I'm ok! :) you can keep it :) I've had enough of you guys :) dont let the door hit your ass on the way out :)" meanwhile Miguel 1 and 2 are comparing strategies, "see, when MY wife was refusing to come back to me, what I did was..."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hiiii

Can you do something about the batboys (specially Tim and Damian cuz they are my fav)?

With a reader who loves hugs, like A LOT

And it is simply spontaneous to want to hug.

Dick

He loves your spontaneity and your hugs.

He finally has someone who can eagerly accept his out of nowhere hugs by reciprocating with your own hugs.

You have a hug off to see who can hug the other the most as it never fails to make both of your days better, and it acts like a really good pick me up when you both need it most.

Dick could stay in your arms forever if he could and hopes that you feel the same as it acts as a way of communicating without the usage of words. Dick can convey how he felt to you in certain situations throughout all types of hugs possible.

Tight hugs for when he thought he wasn’t going to come back home to you, or when he fears that you wouldn’t love him anymore or for times where he just needed to feel you against him.

Soft, gently, comforting hugs for when he feels like being more affectionate with you, maybe even playful and or wanting to just show you that he cares about you as while he’s a charmer, meaningful words tend to fail him on multiple occasions.

Protective, ‘don’t touch them or else’ hugs where he keeps a tight and firm grip on you as he pushes your head into his neck while he poetically cocoons you in his arms as to keep you out of sight of anyone he thinks is no good for you.

Other then them, dick will always await for you with open arms almost instinctively, knowing he’s going to get the best hug of a lifetime as thought you haven’t seen each other in a long time and not five minutes. Dick just loves you and your spontaneous hugs.

Damian

Fight instincts are strong in Damian.

So when you first try to hug him, his sword was drawn within inches of your face as fast as you could blink. He’d never hurt you, no. It’s just that his body was tuned to react within seconds to any potential danger against him, and unfortunately his mind made him think that your hugs were threats.

So once he realises what he had done on impulse, he apologise and sheathed his sword and tells you that he’s not yet use to your kind of affection due to his upbringing and that he’ll try to become accustomed to it eventually; Which he does but his response to your hugs is rather stiff and almost robotic but you were more then happy to take what you get, and if this is the most he can do right now then you’ll accept it.

However when he does start to get use to your hugs and doesn’t feel like he has to draw his sword every time, but he tends to melt into your touch like a stray cat being shown love for the first time. He closes his eyes and burrows his head into your neck as he tightened his grip on you, as though you’d vanish if he were to ever let up his hold.

He doesn’t want you to hug him in public, he’s not comfortable with it as he would when you’re hugging him in private, but he couldn’t fault you if you were to hug him after an highly emotional moment where you thought you’d loose him, Damian understands but he just prefers to have you hug him in private overall.

It also lessens the teasing potential for his brothers and he gets the alone time with you like he so wished for.

Tim

Finds comfort and reassurance in your hugs.

Seriously your hugs are what Tim needs after a long and arduous mission alongside his brothers and sisters.

He doesn’t even flinch at how out of the blue your hugs are, he just accepts your hugs no matter what and will sigh heavily as he practically falls asleep in your arms.

Please help this man get some proper sleep for once in his life, the detective stuff can wait, it’s not going to go anywhere anytime soon just please take a break.

He’s more then reciprocal of your hugs and appreciates the love you pour into them as they help ease the worries within his head as he rests his head against yours, allowing himself to slow down and appreciate what was in front of him.

Your hugs -despite their spontaneity- have a calming affect on him and they worked wonders for when he needs sleep as his mind tends to keep him up at night. So now with you it’s a bit more bearable as you would cradle his head to your chest, letting him focus in on your breathing and your heart until that’s all the last thing he remembered before drifting off to sleep.

Jason

It takes Jason some time to get use to your spontaneous hug feasts. At first he flinches and almost shies away from your hugs as he doesn’t acquaint any physical contact as soft, or warm or comforting like you did. In fact he viewed it as the opposite.

So it takes time for Jason to become comfortable with your spontaneous hugs and once he stops flinching and shying away from them, he grows addicted to your hugs and awaits each and every time that you decided he looked like he needed a little hug or cuddle.

He -much like Damian- would melt into your hugs, tighten his grip on you and would find that everything fades away the moment he’s in your arms; His mind clears of all stress and all he can think about was how perfect each and every one of your hugs were every single time.

He also never wants to leave your embrace, ever, he just refuses and claims he needs five more minutes in your arms and would groan in annoyance if you were to attempt to pull away.

‘Stop moving away from me.’ He’d groan. ‘You wanted to hug me so hug me!’

You chuckle at him whenever he got like this but oblige to his wishes regardless as you didn’t have to heart to stop hugging Jason when he’s practically clinging onto you like a koala bear. So you just remain where you are until five minutes become a full day and you and Jason are shuffling towards the bedroom together to cuddle until you feel asleep.

Needles to say Jason grows to love your hugs however they come and when they come, for they help him get through the day.

Bruce

He’s not use to your hugs yet either and it takes him just as long-if not longer- as Jason to get use to them overtime.

His muscles would tense and that’s about it.

He’s use to being hugged by the likes of Jason and Damian and Dick when he got older but your hugs were different then theirs, and sooner or later Bruce had developed a sixth sense for whenever you’re going to hug him, and would smile to himself whenever he heard your footsteps and little giggles before bracing himself for you hug.

‘You heard me didn’t you.’ You’d always ask and without hesitation Bruce replied with in a playful manner; ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about my dear.’ Which only made you pout as you tightened your grip on him while burrowing your face into his broad back.

There would even be times where you’re about to hug him, but Bruce moves just in times as you were going to hug his waist and stares at you for a bit before opening his arms and letting you run into his chest. He doesn’t mind your hugs now and then when he’s not busy as he doesn’t like neglecting you for his work; So he tries to at least let you get all your hugs out while you could before he had to indulge in his work that takes up a huge amount of his time.

Like Damian he likes to have you hug him in private, he’s a well know public figure and Gotham isn’t exactly safe and so he prioritised your safety above all else. So while he’ll interlock his pinky with yours or have your arm locked in his in public, he’ll let you hang off of him as reward in private while he rests his hands over your own in means of keeping you there.

Alfred finds it sweet seeing Bruce be affectionate with you and probably has a picture where Bruce is embracing you fully, his head resting atop of yours while your face was smothered against his chest, your face bearing the widest smile possible in comparison to Bruce’s face of calm serenity.

[clrasecretdiary]

Why does she give a damn about me? | Spencer Reid x Reader

cutesy, cheesy fluff

In wich Spencer thinks reader is out of his league but she could not be more into him.

Content: Garcia is a queen as always, sunshine!reader

Warnings: Maybe some light lack of self steem from spence, but nothing crazy!!

He was used to it at this point. Being the weird kid in high school and college, Spencer never really expected anyone to be into him and, after being rejected a couple of times, he had practically closed himself off in that sense. But then, you came into the picture.

You are one of those girls that everyone seemed to gravitate toward, not only because of your beauty but because of your essence. You were genuinely kind, smart and good with people in a way he wished he was, maybe that’s why he was so drawn to you, you had all the qualities he wished he had and being close to you made him feel complete.

Needless to say that he was in love with you, it had started as an admiration and when he realized he was thinking about you all the time, but he was sure you would never be into guys like him, he was sure you’d never see him as more than friends.

–

You had joined the team a few years ago, you were excited to finally be doing what you really wanted when you joined the BAU, going out in the field and being on cases instead of just working a desk job all the time. When you first met the team, everyone seemed very welcoming but you felt yourself especially drawn to Spencer out of all people, at first he seemed distant but with time you noticed how sweet he was and how much he cared for everyone around him and god that man was so funny, you loved his weird science jokes and his magic tricks. How were you supposed to not fall in love with him? You asked yourself that question every time he brought you coffee in the morning or went on his rambles about some random thing.

After a particularly intense inquiry from a very drunk Garcia in one of the girls' nights she organized at her home, you told her your feelings for Reid and she made you swear you would act on it.

“Garcia, I'm not confessing. He's not into me like that, i’ll just ruin our friendship”

“Oh honey, he practically kisses the floor you walk in, he follows you around the office like a lost puppy and practically kills any officer that dares to be the tiniest bit mean to you. There’s no way he’s not into you, at least try pretty please” She says, doing puppy eyes at you. Garcia took her job as a cupid very seriously and was not going to let this be her first fail.

“Alright, i’ll try but if he ends up hating me you’ll have to bake me cookies everyday until i die” You say rolling your eyes and finishing your glass of wine.

“Ohhh i’ll be cooking cookies for you guys wedding!”

–

So, here you are holding his favorite order from the local coffee shop and gathering the courage to press the button to the elevator

“Hey are you fine?” A familiar voice calls you, when you turn around its spencer.. Great, guess you’ll have to do this right now

“Oh hi yeah, I was just um… meditating”

“Did you know meditanting has been proven to increase your memory and is also great for reducing anxiety. I really should start doing it, what method do you use?” Spencer says while pressing the button to the elevator

“Ummm breath in, breath out i think” You say, unsure how to respond

“That's actually one of the best ways as it oxygenates your brain and helps it work better, it can also help you feel more calm since deep breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system that sends a signal to your brain to tell the anxious part that you're safe and don't need to use the fight, flight response” He says, doing the little smile and head nod thing he always does after info dumping.

You smile back at him, as you both enter the elevator and press the button to the BAU floor.

“I brought you something” You say, handing him the coffee shop bag

He opens it and smiles at you “I can’t believe you remembered my favorites, thank you so much” You love that smile so much, all you can think about is how perfect he is and how there’s no way you can continue on without dating this man.

“Actually, I need to tell you something spence… I was thinking, maybe we could go out together as like, a date or something” You say, already blushing from the embarrassment you felt and how scared you were that he did not reciprocate the feelings.

“Really? Of course i want, to be honest i’ve wanted to ask you to be honest but i thought you’d never see me like that”

“Are you kidding me spencer? I’ve had a crush on you since we first meet”

The elevator gets to the office, and you both walk in blushing and joking about how you two were so blind to each other's feelings. As you get in, garcia passes by you two stopping to stare

“There’s something happening here…” She says, pointing between you two and pressing her eyes together as if she’s profiling you two

“I asked him out”

“Oh my god finally, you see? I’m always right, I don’t even need to ask what he said, look at Reid, he’s glowing, ohh i’m so happy” She says, walking out to probably tell the news to everyone on the team.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Illumi stares at you often, and when I mean often, 95% of the time spent with him involves him staring at you at least a little.

His big, black eyes always seem drawn to you when you’re in his vicinity, pulling you into their dark depths. You’d think it would feel cold, considering his profession or cold personality, but looking into his eyes feels strangely warm and fills you with fuzzy feelings.

The dark haired assassin had never felt the way he felt about you before. At first he hated the way you made him feel, avoiding you at all costs. But the distance made his heart hurt, which again, is something he’s never really felt before.

If he hadn’t met you, none of this would have happened. Maybe… just maybe if he just took care of you and ended your life, that would make his heart stop racing every time he spotted you.

But he could never do it. You were full of blind spots, way too trusting, and much weaker than him, but still… he could never find the chance to kill you.

No… that’s not true. Just by walking past you alone, he could count at least 14 ways he could have swiftly ended your life within seconds, but when he moved to pull out his needles… he physically couldn’t. The needles heavy in his pocket, his heart thumping against his chest so fast that it made breathing difficult.

Killing was the only way he knew how to really interact with others. Killing them, killing for them… it’s all he really knew. So when you spotted him at a party for Hunters that he only attended so he could gather information on a target and invited him to join you for a drink… he couldn’t say no.

While the two of you talked, every little thing you did was noted down by him and stored away in his brain. The way you drilled your fingernails against the table when you were trying to remember something, the way you smiled softly when he occasionally spoke up, and even the way you breathed.

When you got up to leave, you gently patted his shoulder, saying that the two of you should ‘hang out sometime’.

And that single touch was the beginning of the end.

Just that small amount of physical contact made him feel way more drunk than the drink he’d been sipping on. The warmth of your touch reminded him of the first time he tried rum. The warm, almost scorching feeling of the liquor running down his throat almost matched the intensity of that little touch.

And he wanted more.

He had never gotten as hard as he did the night after you touched him. He found himself jerking off to pictures he found of you on your social media, imagining your pussy clenching around him instead of the touch of his hand.

As the months passed, you found yourself encountering Illumi a lot more than you had in the past. Whether it be on jobs, random bump ins at the bar or while you were shopping… it’s like you saw him everywhere these days.

Illumi felt no guilt over putting a small tracking device in your bag. After all, he killed people for a living, this was nothing.

He told himself that he was just fascinated with your ability, or perhaps even your knowledge on a specific subject. But that shouldn’t have been enough for him to be carrying you home from the bar after you had a few too many, his hands holding back your hair when you needed to vomit.

Illumi had never taken care of someone before, but when he attempted to leave you to your own devices, your hand held onto his sleeve.

“Don’t go…”

This is when he realized that he didn’t want anything you could give him that he thought. Your knowledge or your abilities meant nothing to him in the moment, what mattered is that he was curled up next to you, staring at you as you slept.

Illumi could go multiple days without sleep, so he spent the entire night just staring. Here you were, with your cheek squished against his arm, your hands clutching his shirt as you slept.

Could you ever even comprehend the things he had seen and done? Did you even understand that the man you had allowed into your bed ended other’s lives for a price?

You slept so soundly, as if you were not curled up with an experienced assassin. He couldn’t help but reach out and cup your cheek, squeezing the soft flesh between two of his nimble, pale fingers. This made to whine a bit in your sleep, but it didn’t wake you.

He was just… in awe of you. Everything you did had his heart racing. Even asleep, your actions could send him into cardiac arrest if he wasn’t careful.

As he caressed you, something he had been wanting to do for a while, his mind wandered.

What would happen if someone like him was sent to kill you? You were too trusting, too kind and naive for your own good.

He couldn’t let that happen.

That thought made him pause. For the first time in his life, he wanted to protect someone instead of use them for his personal gain. You weren’t just a means to an end or a stepping stone to his success… you were you.

And he loved you.

Love… the concept was foreign to him, but if that was the word that described what he was feeling for you… maybe he could somewhat understand the cheap romance novels he had read when bored on missions.

In the morning, you were sick again. He did his best to help you. Illumi had seen plenty of nasty things, he could handle some vomit and tears.

“Thank you, Illumi…”

He glanced to you as he put on his coat to leave. You were in your pajamas still, your face still a bit warm from embarrassment. The two of you barely knew each other, yet you had roped him into taking care of you.

“It was… no trouble.”

“B-but it was! Can’t I do anything for you to make up for it?”

He stopped, pausing by the door. “… be mine.”

The heat in your face increased tenfold. “What… did you just say?”

“I said be mine.”

Illumi was in front of you in no time, his hand was cold, but firm on your waist. “I want you, (Name).”

“Um…”

You laughed nervously, flustered. “How about a date?”

“Those terms are acceptable.”

As Illumi walked towards the car that had come to pick him up, he was already planning out how he’d bring up the prospect of marriage to his family. Of course they wouldn’t stop him, but he would prefer their approval.

Illumi opened his phone, seeing that you had texted him.

(Name): how about Sunday at 7 pm?

That was in two days. Would he be able to find a ring that suited you by then? Ah… but he really wanted to see you again as soon as possible.

Illumi: Sounds great.

He could feel himself get hard with excitement. As he looked out at the scenery passing by, he wondered if you wanted one or two kids.

‘Three or more would be best… but I’ll let her decide. She’ll be the one bearing my children after all.’

Unbeknownst to you, your entire future was being laid out for you. For the better or worse.

[xxbirkindoll]

coming back to you

pairings: ex!rafe x ex!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, jealousy

summary: rafe and y/n broke up and after 6 months, reader sees him at a party—except rafe isn’t alone.

words: 2.9k

The sunset over the Outer Banks was a spectacular sight—an explosion of orange and pink hues blending into the purple twilight. But tonight, as you watched the waves crash against the shore, the colors seemed muted, like they were missing something. Much like your life over the past six months.

Six months. It felt like both an eternity and a fleeting moment since Rafe had broken up with you. Even now, the memory of that day still stung, etched into your heart like a scar that refused to heal.

"I just need to work on myself, Y/n," he had said, his voice thick with emotion. "My temper, my… everything. You deserve better than what I can give you right now."

You had stood there, tears blurring your vision as you tried to understand what was happening. Rafe was your world, the one constant in the chaos of your life, and suddenly, he was telling you that you needed to be apart. That you, his Y/n, deserved better than him. It was a noble reason, and you knew he meant well, but it did nothing to soothe the heartbreak that followed.

Rafe was your first love, the person who made you feel alive and safe in a world that often felt too overwhelming. You had been drawn to him, not just for his good looks or his undeniable charm, but for the way he seemed to understand you in a way no one else did. He could be reckless, yes, and his temper was legendary, but beneath it all, you had seen the softer side of him, the side that cared, that loved fiercely and deeply.

You hadn’t expected to be torn away from that side of him. But he had been right, in some ways. Rafe had demons to fight—his addiction, his anger, his own insecurities. And he needed space to do that. You understood that, but it didn’t make the pain of losing him any less real.

For months, you’d been trying to move on, to rebuild your life without him. It was hard. Every corner of the Outer Banks held memories of him. From the beach where you first kissed to the docks where he’d whispered how much he loved you as the sun set. It all haunted you, a constant reminder of what you’d lost.

But tonight was different. Tonight, you were determined to take a step forward, to finally put some distance between you and the past. That’s why you agreed to go to the party with Sarah, despite your initial hesitation.

“You need this, Y/n,” Sarah had insisted earlier that day, her tone firm but gentle. “It’s been too long since you’ve done something fun. And I promise, Rafe won’t be there. He’s… been keeping to himself lately.”

You knew Sarah meant well. As Rafe’s sister, she was caught in a tricky position—being loyal to her brother while also being your best friend. But she had always been there for you, through the highs and the lows, and you trusted her.

And so, you found yourself at the Cameron family’s beach house, the music pounding in your ears and the smell of the ocean mixed with the scent of alcohol filling the air. The party was in full swing, with people dancing, laughing, and losing themselves in the carefree atmosphere.

But as much as you tried to blend in, to lose yourself in the moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe it was the fact that you were at a place so closely tied to Rafe, or maybe it was the way your heart clenched every time you thought about him. Either way, you felt a knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

“Hey, are you okay?” Sarah’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you turned to find her watching you with concern. She was holding two drinks, one of which she handed to you. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You forced a smile, not wanting to worry her. “I’m fine. Just a little overwhelmed, I guess.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “I get it. But try to have some fun, okay? You deserve it.”

Taking a sip of the drink, you nodded again, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed your own assurances. You scanned the crowd, trying to distract yourself by observing the people around you. Most were familiar faces, locals you’d grown up with, but one person caught your eye. A girl you didn’t recognize, with short, brown hair and a confident smile.

And then you saw him. Rafe.

He was standing by the pool, laughing at something the girl had said, his hand resting casually on her waist. Your heart stopped, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t just seeing him again that hit you like a punch to the gut—it was how different he looked. His once shaggy hair was now buzzed short, and he had put on muscle, his t-shirt clinging to his toned arms and chest. He looked good, better than you’d seen him in a long time.

He looked like he was doing well. Like he was happy.

You wanted to be happy for him, you really did. But all you could feel was the sharp sting of jealousy and hurt. He had moved on. And you were still here, stuck in the same place, unable to let go of the past.

“Who’s that?” you found yourself asking, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sarah followed your gaze and winced slightly when she saw what—or rather, who—you were looking at. “That’s Sofia,” she said carefully. “She’s new around here. I think she’s just visiting for the summer.”

“Oh.” You swallowed hard, trying to process the information. Rafe was with someone else. Of course he was. You had no right to feel this way, but you couldn’t help it.

“He seems… different,” you murmured, not sure if you were talking to Sarah or just voicing your thoughts out loud.

Sarah sighed, her expression troubled. “He’s been trying, Y/n. He really has. But it’s been hard for him, too, you know? Breaking up with you—it wasn’t easy for him.”

“I know,” you whispered, your eyes still fixed on Rafe. “I just… I didn’t expect this. I thought that if he got better, maybe…”

“Maybe he’d come back to you?” Sarah finished gently.

You nodded, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You blinked them away, not wanting to cry here, not now.

“Y/n, I think—” Sarah started, but before she could finish, someone bumped into you from behind, causing you to spill your drink. You turned, muttering a quick apology, but when you looked back towards the pool, Rafe and Sofia were gone.

The rest of the party passed in a blur. You tried to have fun, to talk and laugh with Sarah and the others, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could think about was Rafe. You caught glimpses of him throughout the night, but he was always with Sofia, and it hurt too much to keep watching.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed air. You needed to get away.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” you told Sarah, who looked at you with concern but didn’t try to stop you.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she offered, but you shook your head.

“No, it’s okay. I just need a minute.”

She nodded, squeezing your hand before letting you go. You made your way down to the beach, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat of the party. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was soothing, and you found a spot on the sand, sitting down and hugging your knees to your chest.

You let the tears fall then, the ones you’d been holding back all night. It wasn’t fair. You had waited, hoping that Rafe would come back to you when he was ready. You had believed in him, in his ability to change. And now, seeing him with someone else, it felt like all your hope had been shattered.

The worst part was, you couldn’t even be angry at him. You knew why he had broken up with you, and you knew it was the right thing for him to do. But that didn’t make it any less painful.

You stayed there for a while, letting the tears flow until there were no more left. When you finally looked up, the party was still in full swing, but you didn’t feel like going back. You just wanted to go home, to curl up in bed and pretend that tonight had never happened.

But as you stood up to leave, you saw a figure walking towards you along the shoreline. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized who it was.

Rafe.

He stopped a few feet away from you, his hands shoved into his pockets as he looked at you with those piercing blue eyes that had always made you weak in the knees.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves.

You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself. “Rafe. What are you doing here?”

“I saw you leave,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Part of you wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt you, but another part of you just wanted to fall into his arms and forget everything else.

“I’m fine,” you said instead, though your voice wavered. “You should go back to the party. Sofia’s probably wondering where you are.”

“Sofia’s not important,” he said quickly, and the intensity in his voice made you look up at him in surprise. “She’s just someone I’ve been hanging out with, nothing more,” Rafe continued, his voice edged with urgency. “I’m not with her like that, Y/n. I’m not with anyone. I couldn’t be.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sunk in, but you couldn’t let yourself believe them just yet. “Rafe, it’s been six months,” you said, your voice cracking. “You’ve had time to move on. And that’s okay. I don’t expect you to—”

“I haven’t moved on,” he interrupted, taking a step closer to you. “I haven’t moved on from you. God, Y/n, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to get over you, to pretend that I’m okay without you, but I’m not. I’m really not.”

You stared at him, unable to speak. His words were like a lifeline, something you had desperately needed to hear, but it only made things more confusing.

“Then why did you leave?” you finally whispered, the question that had haunted you for months slipping out. “Why did you break up with me if you still… if you still care?”

Rafe looked down, his jaw clenched tightly, as if he were fighting some internal battle. “I was scared,” he admitted after a long moment. “Scared that I was going to drag you down with me. I was a mess, baby. My temper, my addiction… I didn’t want you to have to deal with that. You deserved better. I needed to get better, for both our sakes.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, but there was still a part of you that couldn’t let go of the pain he had caused. “And now?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Are you better now, Rafe?”

He looked up at you then, and the raw emotion in his eyes nearly broke you. “I’m trying,” he said softly. “I’ve been going to therapy, working out, trying to stay clean. I’m not perfect, and I’ve still got a long way to go, but I’m trying. And the whole time… all I could think about was you.”

The words hung in the air between you, thick with unspoken feelings. You wanted to believe him, wanted to run into his arms and let him hold you like he used to. But you were afraid—afraid of getting hurt again, afraid that he might leave you once more.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” you whispered, your eyes filling with tears. “Rafe, you broke my heart. I thought you didn’t want me anymore, that I wasn’t enough.”

Rafe’s expression crumpled with guilt and regret, and he closed the distance between you, reaching out to gently cup your face in his hands. His touch was warm, familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Y/n, you are everything to me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped wanting you. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore. But I see now that I did anyway, and I hate myself for it. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered. It broke down the walls you had built around your heart. The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Rafe…” you began, but the words caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say. All the pain, the longing, the love you still felt for him—it was all too much.

Before you could stop yourself, you closed the remaining distance between you and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. For a moment, Rafe seemed stunned, but then his arms were around you, holding you tightly against him as if he were afraid you might disappear.

He smelled like salt and the faint scent of his cologne, the combination so achingly familiar that it made your heart ache. You felt his chin rest gently on top of your head, his breath warm against your hair as he held you close.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t want to, but I did. I missed you every single day.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”

For a while, neither of you moved, content to just hold each other, to feel the connection that had never really been broken despite everything that had happened. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the only thing that broke the silence, a calming rhythm that matched the beat of your hearts.

But eventually, reality crept back in, and you pulled away slightly, looking up at Rafe. His face was so close to yours, his blue eyes searching your own with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

“Rafe,” you began, your voice unsteady, “I don’t know if we can just… go back to how things were. So much has happened.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his hands still resting on your waist. “I know we can’t just pick up where we left off. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again, Y/n. I want to be with you. I’ve never stopped wanting that.”

You searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he might be saying this out of guilt or obligation, but all you saw was the truth. He meant it. He still loved you, despite everything.

“I still love you too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never stopped.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw the boy you had fallen in love with all this time ago—the boy who had made you laugh, who had held you when you cried, who had loved you with everything he had.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath on your skin, the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. And in that moment, you knew that despite everything, you still wanted him. You still wanted to be with him, to try again.

But there was still a part of you that was scared, that didn’t want to go through the pain again.

“I’m scared, Rafe,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I’m scared that things will go back to how they were.”

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his expression serious. “I won’t hurt you again, Y/n,” he promised, his voice firm. “I’ve been working so hard to change, to be the person you deserve. I won’t let you down this time. I swear.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to trust him, to let yourself be vulnerable with him again. But trust was something that had to be earned, and you knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“I need time,” you said softly, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “I need time to trust you again.”

Rafe nodded, his expression understanding. “I’ll give you all the time you need,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through you. “Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

And for the first time in six months, you felt a glimmer of hope. You didn’t know what the future held, but you were willing to take a chance on Rafe, on the love that still burned between you. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing worth having ever was.

As you stood there on the beach, wrapped in Rafe’s arms, you knew that this was a new beginning. A chance to rebuild what had been broken, to find your way back to each other. And this time, you would do it together.

a/n: i hate this so much! maybe bcs its too long and doesn’t have smut but ill try next time. pls give me requests!!

[yxxdel]

𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐓 FT. SAE ITOSHI 𖦹°‧ ** you can’t bear physical contact during summer, it’s just too hot. your boyfriend think otherwise.

W/C : 1.3k

C/W : none, pure fluff, reader is feeling insecure (?)

A/N : first fluffy post hihi

𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 a lot of things.

He hated weak and annoying people; he hated when his body was too exhausted to train; and he hated when someone raised their voice at him.

But one of the things he hated the most, was the summer. The air was too hot to even breathe, his clothes stuck to his body due to sweat, he couldn’t train properly and the list went on..

But if he hated summer so much, it was for one particular reason.

Sae preferred the cold weather, not only because it matched his personality but also because he could be near you all the time.

Your cute eyes looking up at him and asking him to warm your hands— he loved that. He loved wrapping his arms around you and kissing your red nose.

So yes, Sae hated summer just because he couldn’t be close to you.

Every time he tried to hold you, you gently pushed him away, saying that you were too hot.

So here he was, sulking like a baby on the couch as he was watching one of his previous games.

Yet he couldn’t concentrate; his mind was always drawn to you.

He let out a sigh as he leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes. Sae didn’t consider himself clingy, but when you refused to kiss or hug him ?

Damn, he was like a child.

Hearing your footsteps, his body immediately rose as he saw you walking toward the kitchen, in underwear.

Well, him too, he was shirtless and in short, and was slowly melting because of the weather .

He titled his head to the side slightly, his teal gaze admiring your curves.

He called your name in a small whine, walking behind you as you put your empty glass on the counter, smiling.

“What is it, baby?”

You noticed his pout, something unusual.

But when he tried to wrap his arms around you, you put your hand on his chest and gently got away from his embrace.

“See? You don’t love me anymore.”

Sae crossed his arms as his tone was cold, like always, but still soft in a way he only used for you.

You giggled as you shook your head, grinning because you found him so cute.

“I love you, Sae. It’s just that I can’t bear the heat of your body right now. I know you want to cuddle, and I’m sorry.”

He only scoffed, grabbing your wrist to bring you closer. He rested his chin on your bare shoulder, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

“You can take it, it’s not like you’re gonna die.”

He mumbled, not even caring if his body was starting to get hot too.

He wanted your touch, so he will get your touch. Winter, autumn, spring, and summer.

Your cheeks started to become red, both from the sentence he used and the sudden wave of heat running through your body.

You smiled, grabbing his shoulders.

“Sae, baby, I’m serious. Plus we’re both sweating, I mustn't smell good. “

The midfielder only pulled you closer when you tried to push him away again, shaking his head.

“No, you don’t smell bad.”

For him, you always smelled like a delicate flower. Like tulip. He didn’t even know why, since you didn’t own any perfume with this scent.

Maybe it was something psychological for him.

You couldn’t help but smile, finding it adorable how needy he was for your touch. Caressing his scalp, you sighed.

“Alright, let’s take a shower together, alright ? So you can hug me without the risk of me fainting.”

He immediately raised his head from your neck, his eyes narrowing.

Oh, Sae liked that idea.

“Ok.”

He then took a step back, leaving you with the space you needed.

You inhaled deeply, showing him a sweet smile. You noticed his eyes running down your body, and you felt yourself blushing again.

“Can I kiss you now ? Or in the shower ?”

His question surprised you, and you chuckled.

“You can do both, but wait to be under the cold water to actually kiss me.”

He immediately stepped closer the moment you agreed, but his face stopped inches away from yours at your last words.

With a frown, he asked you:

“What do you mean ‘actually kiss you’ ?”

Your fingertips trailed from his collarbone down to his chest, like a feather, and it made him shiver.

“Well, you know. Kisses with you always end up with your body on top of mine, so I can only give you a peck right now.”

You could laugh at how random the conversation ended up, but you loved it. He crossed his arms, his stoic expression staring down at you.

“Then from now on, I will hate your peck.”

You laughed, clearly amused about how much he looked like a child behaving like this.

“Is that so ? So I’m not going to give you my small kisses before you go training, or when I leave the house ?”

Sae stayed silent for a moment, evaluating the situation with his tongue pocking his cheek.

He then simply leaned in, turning his face slightly so you were facing his cheek.

“I changed my mind. I want the small kiss now, and the big kiss for under the shower.”

Shaking your head, you leaned in and met his skin with your soft lips. Stepping back, you bit your lips as you saw his ear became the same color as his hair.

“Let’s go then, a cold and long shower awaits us.”

He grabbed your wrist as you walked toward the bathroom, following you like a puppy with a small smile tucking his lips.

Inside the bathroom, you were now curiously more shy.

It wasn’t the first time you and Sae took a shower together, but each time it still made you nervous.

What if he didn’t like your body ? What if he saw you the way you saw yourself ?

Those questions ran through your mind all the time.

Oh, but foolish you were for thinking that.

Sae adored your body; he worshiped every single inch of it. Either it was your chest, stomach, thighs, or ass, he wanted to kiss it all the time.

Yes, he loved your body, but that wasn’t what he loved the most. Because, above all, he loved you.

Sensing something wrong, Sae held your hands in his, his lips flying above your skin.

In a heavy silence, he left a trail of soft kisses from your knuckles to your shoulder. Without breaking eye contact, he gently grabbed the strap of your bra and pulled it down slowly.

When both of you were naked, he held your chin.

“Look at me, love.”

And you did because, of course, you trusted him.

In the shower, he cleaned your back and you did his.

The cold water soothed both of you during the hot summer.

His pink hair stuck to his forehead because of the water, making him even more attractive.

“And now, do I get my kiss ?”

He said it teasingly as he gently pushed your back against the shower wall, his finger putting away the hair in front of your eyes.

Closing your eyes, you kissed him. He let out a faint groan as he deepened the kiss, his hands exploring your body.

Well, he missed you—it has been only two days—but he still missed your body. Like the touch-deprived person that he was.

Further in the day, after the shower healed you from the heat of your apartment, you were both lying in bed.

You randomly remembered that you bought a big ventilator; Sae almost killed you for that.

You turned it on in the bedroom so your needy boyfriend could finally cuddle with you.

So here you were, his arms wrapped around you and his face on your chest, sleeping like a baby.

So no, you weren’t on the ‘what Sae Itoshi hates’ list, but on the contrary, you were on the ‘rare things Sae Itoshi likes’.

And you were at the top of that list.

© yxxdel 2024 — all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.

[dcangel]

stiles would def talk you through it…

it wasn’t your first time having sex, but it was your first time with him, and it had been over two years since you’ve even been with someone in that way.

Stiles was sweet and gentle; letting you take your time to adjust and just feel him inside of you as he pushed in slowly, his thick, long length giving you that good stinging feeling.

you two had never really talked about intimacy before. obviously you knew your boyfriend was one horny bastard even before you started dating him, thanks to his adhd ridden mind never letting him think before he spoke. but you knew he was acting more… odd lately. like super clingy and touchy, displaying more affection than usual no matter where you were—at school? always had a hand on the small of your back or using you as an arm rest. with the pack? a hand on your thigh, or had your fingers interlocked with his. when it was just you two? well that was different. you knew something was off, it felt like he was holding back or keeping something from you.

so when you gave up walking on eggshells and finally asked what was up with him recently, you didn’t think it would lead to you two fucking on his bed with the lights off, the window open to create a draft to cool off your sweaty bodies. he also liked the way the sunset cast a perfect hue between golden and red on your sweat-slick skin.

he had slightly more experience than you due to his most recent relationship—with malia—ending just over a year ago. you dropped your head backward on his pillows, an arm wrapped under his with your hand barely reaching the base of his neck, while the other was being held and gently pressed into the mattress next to your head by stiles.

The temptation to just snap his hips into you and fuck you raw was a hard one to resist, but the way he cared for you and would never do anything to hurt you was even stronger. He used your facial expressions as a gage for when to push in more and when to stop to let you adjust. Your face was scrunched and despite the amount of times you told him that you were okay and to keep going, he felt like he should stop or maybe even pull out. But he knew you’d be more upset that way.

He also knew you had a tendency to try and please others even at the expense of your own comfort.

“Y’sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, forgetting you actually had to respond because otherwise he wouldn’t accept your answer. “I’m fine, just…jus’please keep going, sti.”

When he finally bottomed out inside you, his hand rubbed little circles just above your pelvis to soothe the your burning skin. “Good girl, ‘taking me so well.” He praises under his breath, more like he was talking to himself.

When he felt your fingernails scratch the nape of his neck, it sent a tingle down his spine that made his hips twitch. He bucked into you just a little further even though you thought he had already bottomed out. You whimpered and stiles took it as a wince.

“Shit, sorry… it’s just when you scratched me it did that tingly thing and I didn’t mean to—”

“Do it again,” you breathed out, “please.”

He hesitated for a second before slowly pulling his hips back, then pushing them back in at an agonizingly slow pace. A long, hummed moan was drawn from you as you closed your eyes. Stiles figured this was your indignation of being okay with it, so he withdrew again and pushed back in a little faster.

He kept going, his hips thrusting faster and with a little more strength each time. Your nails lightly scraped the back of his neck again, pulling a quiet, low moan from him. His hips bucked into yours a little harsher and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

You didn’t think you’d even be able to feel any better than you already were, but you couldn’t’ve been more wrong when you told stiles; “’s okay, you don’t have to hold back.”

And he didn’t. His demeanor completely changed, like he had a second personality on standby just waiting for you to say those words. It started with two quicker thrusts that lead into his hips snapping against yours. Stiles wrapped his hands under each of your thighs and gave them a small squeeze before wrapping them around his waist, your calves resting on his hips.

But that wasn’t enough for you. You wanted him closer. You wanted to feel every inch of his thick, veiny cock pulsing inside your equally throbbing cunt. You moved your hips up so you could get a better grip on his waist with your thighs, his tip kissing your cervix in response.

“Oh f—” your slurred words mixed into a whined moan. You temporarily lost your objective of getting closer, your head drooping back and your eyes lightly rolling back in your head. But the second you came back, you lifted your hips up ones more and hooked the back of your knees on his hips.

“That’s it.” He cooed slowly, like he purely enjoying your reaction. “Tell me when, okay?”

You didn’t even waste a second. “Please move.” And he automatically started up his fast, rough pace again.

Your other hand wrapped around the back of his neck, finding the short hairs at his nape and locking in. Your tugging on his hair forced him to lower his head and he made do by pressing his lips too the crook of your neck, sloppily dragging them down to your collarbone, leaving little hickeys or wet spots in their wake. The feeling of his thrusts; his length pushing at different spots on your walls with each buck of his hips, his tip kissing your cervix occasionally in a way that made your eyes roll back, he pelvic bone nudging your clit when he left himself inside for just a few more seconds as he adjusted his grip on your hips so they’d stay in place rather than slowly inch up the bed from his rougher thrusts.

You were in complete ecstasy, and stiles knew it. He could already tell that he was going to be absolutely obsessed with taking care of you like this. One of his hands slid from the outside of your hips to your clit, his thumb toying with the bundle of nerves.

Your pussy clenched around him in response and it made his hips stutter. Stiles pressed his lips against yours, effectively taking your air intake away. He was wasn’t aware, and if he knew he definitely wouldn’t be okay with it.

His kiss was sloppy, but yours was even sloppier. By the time he pulled back because he missed your pretty face, both of you had saliva all around your lips and chin. He saw you gasping for air a little too much, and his head tilted, his other hand that was keeping your hips in place came up to cradle your jaw.

You knew what he was going to ask, and your sanity was slowly slipping since his pace never slowed. “M’fine.”

Maybe if he was a little more down to earth, using the non-lust-driven side of his brain, he would’ve really made sure of that. But stiles nodded and mumbled out a small praise about how you were doing so good for him.

His thumb pressed and pulsated on your clit, and you hadn’t been aware of how you’ve been teetering on the edge for awhile now. So with a small squeak and a tightened grip in his hair, you warned him with the last bit of coherency you had left. “Fuck—stiles I’m-” and then your words stopped. Everything stopped. Even the whine and whimpers you made with his slightest movements.

Your free hand dragged down his back, creating deep scratches that left long, red welts on his pale skin, and a sting that made him want to double over. Not because of the pain, but because of the combined pleasure he got from that along with thrusting into your fluttering walls that lead to his own orgasm.

It was possible you blacked out, or maybe your just rolled your eyes so far back that they had you seeing stars—more like black spots—when you looked around at the ceiling or his face. You regained the sense of touch, his touch, all over you, and gained what felt like a new sense. You felt like your body was attuned to feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it pumped warmth deep inside you, every trail of heat his lips left on your flaming skin, every indentation of his his thumbprint as the pulled away from your swollen clit and rubbed soothing circles on your hips.

“Holy shit,” he panted, his sweaty forehead resting in the crook of your neck. Stiles swore he could feel your pulse.

You made a noise, some type of noise of agreement. “Mhm.”

His voice was unsteady as he spoke, “I love you so fucking much.”

Normally you two would fight for who loves the other more, but seeing as you’d just been fucked senseless by the boy you’ve been so deeply in love with ever since the seventh grade, you couldn’t find it in you to put up a fight. You’d let him win, let him have whatever he wanted, because he knew that was your way of giving thanks. “I love you too, sti.” You managed to breathe out, your hand still gripping his hair like your life depended on it, even though your grip was significantly weaker than before you came.

[bamgyw]

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ the second night ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

the spiritualization of sensuality is called love: it is a great triumph over christianity. - friedrich nietzsche

warnings: +18 getting hornier. pillow,, humping,, heh. a tiny bit of voyeurism as well? fingering. and a lot of male yearning we love that, we love a desperate man. a/n: team we made it to the smut. the hand kissing bit is kind of victorian. jane austen, even. but. i don't care. i’m not 100% happy with the outcome so it might get a little edited in the (distant) future, but nothing fundamental. this is a part of a longer work ♡ go to the beginning here

"i am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses."

beomgyu stumbled upon that quote within the pages of a stolen copy of a book by nietzsche. he had always found himself more drawn to the destructive lunacies of clinically depressed germans than to the saving grace of the holy scriptures. there was no self-pitying in the bible, no self-indulgent sorrow to hold on to.

he had found that book, thus spoke zarathustra, in soobin's room, tossed in the trash. it looked almost new, so he took it out of curiosity.

"why are you throwing this away?" beomgyu asked.

soobin shrugged. "it's a good read if you're a happy person," he said. "but if you're miserable, it'll rot your brain. more spiritual talk and petty self-help in there than in the bible."

but beomgyu quietly took the book without soobin noticing, and he carried it in his back pocket ever since.

he had no intention of reading it from cover to cover, but sometimes he would flip absentmindedly through the pages, fixating on some passages. and that one specifically had reminded him of you. his new meaning. the rose he found in the darkness.

during the day, beomgyu usually roamed aimlessly around the town, drifting along with the rhythms of his headphones. that was pretty much the sum of his daily human activity since he quit college.

it was all he knew how to do, and often felt like all he was good for.

as he walked through the town, the familiar sounds of honking cars, distant sirens, and murmuring conversations mixed with the music in his headphones. the air was thick with the scent of seawater and the faint, sour smell of industry. it was a crummy town, sordid. each step felt heavy, purposeless, leading him nowhere.

he had a few favorite spots he liked to hang around - the port where the boats came in, or the grimy industrial estate where the addicts gathered. they all knew his dad pretty well. and maybe if they knew beomgyu was the son of the man who supplied them with their shit, they'd treat him better. but that's a secret he kept to himself.

instead, he joined in on their petty fights, easily swayed by whatever side fit his mood that day. he was better at fighting than them, but the victory was hollow. he was younger, his body was not rotten –not completely– and he had full motor control over his limbs. but he got pleasure from winning, anyway. he liked to exert some control over someone else for once. 

still, that day he didn't walk to any of his usual spots. he had been feeling a sorrow less violent, an ominous need for silence. his feet, barely in conversation with his brain, dragged him to the town's small church.

he had never really stopped at the church before, just passed by without giving it much thought. but now, standing there, he realized it was probably the most beautiful building in town.

every other construction felt fake, in plastic and plasterboard, but the wooden church had been crafted by the artisan hands of a carpenter and build up by a community. it seemed to be lovingly nursed, too. though the church meant little to him, it was obviously fundamental to others.

when lost and adrift, beomgyu would wander, getting into fights and ruining himself. but under similarly pitiable conditions, others came to the chapel like it was a second home, sometimes safer than their own. beomgyu wished he had something like that, too.

the building was small, but cute. surrounded by a little forest of old camellia trees, its walls painted a crisp white. it was an old building, but it was thoroughly taken care of. the air was different, cleaner, carrying the earthy scent of the camelliae and the faint fragrance of blooming flowers.

beomgyu liked how the wooden cross crowned the roof, marking the building, never allowing anyone to go astray. it must feel good, he thought, to have some guidance like that when you don't know where to go. a flower in the desert, a light in the darkness.

he knew he was being stupid and overemotional. he had never believed in all this religious stuff, and he never would. his relationship with god, if there even was one, was mostly based in resentment. if god was real, he could've treated him better.

and still, he didn't dare to enter the chapel out of some reverential respect he didn't even know he was capable of. so he just stood there, staring at the chapel, feeling small.

he took a deep breath. his cheek still burned where you had kissed him the night before. he really was going out of his mind.

"i want her so bad. and i think she might want me too." he prayed. to the church, to its wood, to the camellia trees, to the sky –he didn't know, he didn't care. "please let me be with her. please don't hurt her because of it, or shame her, or kick her out or whatever it is you do with sinners. i promise it’s not a bad thing. it’s so much purer than you think." he said.

no one answered, of course. there was just silence. some ruffling of the leaves because of the breeze, maybe the trebling chirp of a bird, but no answer. he felt like an idiot.

praying sucked, he ratified. how could you even make sure you were being listened to? it was emotional manipulation, playing with one's hope. feeling down and disappointed, he left.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

entering soobin’s house again would have felt like torture, were it not for the certainty that you lived there, too.

soobin never really left the house. he only went out to go to class in the mornings, and he still chose to skip as many as he could. not because he wasn't a good student, he was disturbingly accomplished. he just disliked the people.

every day, soobin locked himself in his room and studied relentlessly. he was determined to make something of himself and leave his stepfather’s house behind. he had a plan. beomgyu didn’t know the details of this plan—soobin never shared it, fearing it might be jinxed if spoken aloud—but it was clear that soobin believed hard work could get him out of that miserable house.

beomgyu thought that rhetoric too optimistic, alienated from reality. but still, he had some admiration for him. unlike beomgyu, who wallowed in his own misery instead of changing his situation, soobin searched for solutions.

beomgyu sometimes found him too sickly and rancorous, but he still looked up to him for his willpower. not that he would ever admit that to soobin.

so when beomgyu got to the house, certain that soobin would be there, he gave him a call. it was a code they had. soobin leaned out of his bedroom window, and threw down the keys for beomgyu to catch so that he could make his way in. 

as beomgyu climbed the creaky wooden stairs, he realised that the usual thrill and allure of sneaking around that house he had felt at night was dimmed in the daylight. he hated the smell of that place, too. the air inside was stuffy, filled with the faint scent of old wood and something slightly medicinal.

as he reached the top floor on his way to soobin’s room, he passed by a closed door. pristine surface, painted white. he knew immediately. a pink mother-of-pearl crucifix hung on the wood.

he stood in front of it, his heart quickening. inside that room lived his little bird, trapped in an evil cage. his angel, his obsession. he gladly would’ve shattered the door with his own hands. let his knuckles bleed, let the splintered wood stab into his fingers. he just wanted to take you away and set you free.

at first he maintained a cautionary distance. he feared that if he got any closer, he would actually do it. but then he saw the little plaque under the cross, in sterling silver, shining when the light hit it. he approached to read what it said.

"the lord is faithful. he will establish you and guard you against the evil one." it said.

beomgyu scoffed, a bitter smile curling his lips. like some metal plaque could protect her, he thought. he's the only dangerous thing in her life. that superstitious fool.

he found it bitterly amusing, to the point of feeding his ego. some cultures hang garlic on the doors to keep away the vampires and the witches. your daddy had hanged a nacre cross to keep choi beomgyu away from you.

he let his hand reach for the crucifix. he traced his fingers over it, middle and index. all the doors had a crucifix of their own, but yours was the only one that wasn't a choppy piece of wood, crude and utilitarian. his thoughts wandered as his fingers brushed over the cool, smooth surface. he must be aware of how pretty she is, beomgyu thought.

as he did, a noise startled him. he jolted away from the door, retreating as far as he could. only when he saw it was just soobin coming out of his room did he catch his breath.

“you were taking too long,” soobin said, his expression gloomy. “i didn’t like it.”

“you care for me that much?” beomgyu asked, a bitter grin spreading across his face as he walked up to him, hands in his pockets.

"well, i let you into my house, didn't i?" he asked, accusative.

"you did." beomgyu replied. “it's not versailles, but it’s cute. lots of quirky decorations.” he shrugged, poking at the crucifix that hanged on soobin’s door, tilting it slightly. "it's like a theme park."

"eveything’s a joke to you." soobin replied. he seemed distrusting, his chest filled with something he probably shouldn't say. but he did, anyway. “you need to forget about her."

“what are you talking about?” beomgyu raised his tone, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes, quickly masked by anger.

“i know you. you’re going to let your impulsiveness ruin everything for all of us. it won’t end well.” soobin said. “she's not like one of those girls you used to pick up at private schools. if you want to manipulate your way into someone's pants, choose someone else.”

beomgyu’s anger flared. how dared he imply those were his intentions? how dared he assume he had any other purpose than caring for his angel and godsend grace?

he took a violent step towards soobin, who flinched slightly but held his ground. “you think i’m dorian gray or some shit?” beomgyu retorted. “you're just pressed because i'm not a pussy like you, restraining yourself to please that maniac. but whatever happens, it won’t be because i forced myself on anyone."

“she doesn’t know what she wants." soobin said. "she’s confused and love deprived.”

“and you’re a patronising asshole,” beomgyu snapped back. "who are you to say anything?"

“you’re playing with fire. if you wanna be a psychotic masochist, fine. but don’t drag others into your mess. get yourself hurt if you want, but leave us out of it.”

“us?" beomgyu asked with a wicked grin. "she's an adult. she can make her own choices. and if your stepdad wants to mess with her because of it, it´ll be over my fucking dead body."

“is this how you repay me for letting you stay in my house?” soobin asked, a mix of hurt and frustration in his eyes.

“thing is," beomgyu began with a cynical laugh. "this isn’t about you. you shouldn’t be this bothered,” he said. “and if you are, maybe you should check yourself and see if you’re acting like your stepfather.”

soobin’s knuckles turned white, but he took a deep breath and held it in. “just. don’t do it." he said through gritted teeth. "it’s not worth it.”

but beomgyu grinned wickedly. he had one last bombshell, one last thing to get soobin fuming. “i’ll let you know if it's worth it or not when i have your sister go dumb on my cock.” he said, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction.

he shouldn't have said it.

instead of getting angry, as he had intended to accomplish, soobin smirked, too. it was unsettling. beomgyu got a ghostly feeling about it.  "what is it?" he spat out.

soobin inclined his head slightly towards the room with the mother-of-pearl cross—the room of his little bird. beomgyu turned just in time to catch a sliver of a prying eye, peeking through a barely open door. your eye widened when it met beomgyu’s gaze, then you vanished, the door slamming shut.

shit. beomgyu's heart raced, his breath hitching.

soobin smiled, a hint of triumph in his eyes. "consider her warned."

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

late at night, thoughts of you consumed beomgyu’s mind. he knew he had fucked up. he knew that now you probably thought he was a creep and never wanted to see him again. his mind raced, replaying the words he wished he could take back.

he could’ve played his cards right. go slow, ease you into it. but he wasn't that sure now. the uncertainty gnawed at him, twisting his insides with each passing thought.

soobin's room felt even stuffier than the night before, the air heavy and oppressive. the walls seemed to close in on him, making it hard to breathe. the need to see you pressed down on his chest, but lingering doubt kept him glued to the mattress.

a lone fly buzzed around, its annoying droning echoing through the room and fraying his nerves. each pass it made seemed to grow louder, amplifying his sense of confinement, maddening him.

his mind wouldn't shut up about you. you had struck him as someone who knew how to watch your back. he recalled how cautious you had been around him the previous night, like a dog used to being beaten flinches at the sight of a stick. but your eyes had never left his. not for a second. they seemed innocent, but not naive.

he liked that, he thought. that you were like him, smartened up by your environment. but he liked the innocence too, so much. an untouched you, drowning in chasteness and self-restrain.

uncaressed belly, uncaressed thighs, uncaressed sweet pussy. he could make you feel so good. that was all he could offer, all he could give you. he had nothing else.

he knew he should let the thought go. that he should start wrapping his mind around forgetting about you. but it was late, and he was tired, and the only picture that lingered in his mind was a pearl choker and a rosary over a tender neck.

with soobin's steady breathing beside him, perhaps even asleep, beomgyu lay staring at the ceiling. images of you fluttered behind his closed eyelids, all imaginations of his lovesick mind. illicit, probably, but fated.

he thought of your pretty lips whispering praises meant for him, kissing his cheeks, his jaw, the curve of his neck. he wanted to know the taste of your mouth, the softness of your touch.

had you even been kissed yet? with a father as twisted as yours, it seemed unlikely. beomgyu wanted you to never have been kissed. he wanted to teach you how to do it himself. eat your mouth out, nibble at your lips and press them gently. but not hurt you. that was new. 

he would start slow, so that you’d want more of him. then he'd deepen the kiss, his grip on you tight, giving into whatever you asked for, never letting you go hungry. the tingling started, the blood pumping.

pause. he thought as soon as he became aware that he was getting hard. his rational mind tried to assert control, to rein in his desires. you loser, just by thinking of kissing. be cold-minded. a voice told him. actions have consequences. 

the voice sounded a little like him, but it was surely an imposter. if it wasn't impulsive and hot-blooded, then it wasn't choi beomgyu. 

"i just want to apologise." he lied to himself as he sat up all of the sudden.

he slipped out of bed, his bare feet padding softly against the cool floor. he moved slowly, mindful of the creaking floorboards that threatened to betray his movements.

but a subtle rustle, not caused by him, echoed in the quiet room. the soft shuffle of fabric against skin. soobin was awake, and he had wanted to let him know. but beomgyu couldn't begin to care.

as he closed the door behind him, trying to make as little noise as possible, a sudden thud reverberated through the silence. "shit!" he cursed under his breath. another door in that corridor slammed shut with a resounding roar.

someone left a window open. air currents cause noise, beomgyu mused as he made his way down the dimly lit corridor, his steps quickening with purpose. tomorrow night, he thought, he would make sure all windows were closed before going to bed.

as he travelled the shadowy corridor, he got a chill. he kept hearing the ruffling of fabric, a doorknob twisting, steps against the wooden floor. a shiver went down his spine, but he told himself to forget about. it was all in his head.

he refused to let the silent threat your daddy stop him from seeing you. that liar, that imposter, that self-proclaimed god keeping everyone hostage in his castle of authoritarianism and indoctrination.

when he got to your door, the mother-of-pearl crucifix halted him like a policeman. it seemed more commanding now than it had earlier. it was stupid, he thought, how the night enhanced every feeling. 

the cross regarded him and he regarded the cross. “i just want to apologise,” he told jesus christ. “i said something stupid earlier today, and i wanna make better.” he tried to convince him.

it was just a symbolic plea. a desperate attempt to absolve himself of guilt, to make him feel less lustful, less like a pig. to find redemption in the eyes of a higher power. 

he thought about what soobin had said, about god, about your father, about right and wrong. maybe he wasn't as smart as he thought. maybe he was loosing the game and they were all making him go insane for good.

he debated whether to just turn back after the thought came to him that you didn't even want him there, anyway. how could you want him at all, after just one meeting where all he received was rejection?

sure, he got a quick kiss in the end, but it didn't outweigh the pulling away, the uncertainty, the avoidance. what was he worth, really? nothing. not even worth enduring a scolding from your dad, let alone the weight of guilt. he was making a fool of himself. better leave now before anyone got hurt for nothing.

but as he turned to walk away, his heart heavy and ready to toss aside, he heard a noise from inside the room.

a whimper. it was so faint he was sure his febrile mind had made it up. that he was so schizophrenically in lust he had made you escape that sound in his brain. a whimper. a sweet soft whimper. 

he tried to make sense of it by convincing himself that he heard you crying. he even allowed his sense of self-importance to fuel thoughts of bursting into the room and offering you his shoulder to cry on. to cuddle you, to comfort you.

but when he heard it the second time, his breath caught. this time it was a moan, unless his yearning mind was deceiving him. he pressed his ear to the door. he clearly heard a trail of soft muffled moans. restrained, but just so lewd to his feverish self. his face burned, his cock twitched.

index and middle finger reached slowly for the doorknob. they brushed over it, hesitating. maybe it was locked. and maybe that was for the better. the hand wrapped around it, twisted it slightly. it was open.

holding his breath almost to asphyxiation and in the most silent motion he had ever performed, he peaked in. 

god existed, he found out. his mouth went dry. like a bird in the clouds, surrounded by snowy plush blankets, he saw his little dove making herself feel so good against her pillow.

facing away from him, your legs draped on each side of it. your hips swayed, heavy and slow, as you tried to suppress the soft whimpers your throat escaped.

beomgyu pressed his lips together, teeth sinking into his lower lip until almost drawing blood. the messy nightdress, one delicate strap slipping off your shoulder. how the the silken fabric fell over your ass, not letting him see but inviting him to find out.

he wanted to see your doll face twisting in pleasure so desperately. to have you take in his cock and use him to fuck yourself so sweetly like that. only one door was stopping him. the door with the pink mother-of-pearl crucifix.

as though hypnotised, he quietly entered the room.

but when the door closed behind him with a click, you whirled around, eyes wide and breath catching in your throat. he froze in panic, too, as he saw how frightened you seemed. what the fuck were you expecting, you disgusting perv? came in the voice in his head.

your instinct was to retreat like a scared spider, flitting towards the head of your bed. fluffy white pillows framed your trembling body, with only a glimpse of your leg peeking out. your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, almost to an unhealthy degree, as you tried to cover yourself.

beomgyu took a cautious step forward, his obsession with you feeling safe in his presence outweighing how turned on he was. "please," he whispered, desperation in his voice. "don't be embarrassed." he said. or be. you're so adorable, all flustered like this.

"i… i'm sorry," you stuttered, your words hesitant.

beomgyu raised his eyebrow, an endeared chuckle escaping his lips. "you're sorry?"

"i shouldn't have… i…" you struggled, avoiding his gaze and pressing your hands to your head in frustration. anxiously, you began to hit your head with the heels of your hands. "i'm so pathetic."

without hesitation, beomgyu rushed closer, wrapping his hands around your wrists in the world’s softest handcuffs. "not at all," he murmured softly, his voice soothing as he attempted to coax your frightened gaze to meet his own.

quietly, almost reverently, he knelt at the edge of the bed, perching himself over the mattress like a praying supplicant.

he was so fucking hard, his blood boiling inside his pulsating veins. scorchingly, painfully. his hands trembled a bit on your wrists as he struggled to contain himself, like the scorpion resisting the urge to sting the frog and drown them both.

“i loved seeing you like that.” he managed out, eyes fixated on yours. “i’m the pathetic one, i sneaked in here like some creep. i... i'm so sorry about what i said earlier today. i was mad at soobin, trying to get under his skin. but i'm kinder than that. i can be, for you. you shouldn’t be scared of me. please.” 

"i’m not." you said.

"good," he said. "i want you to trust me."

"i think... i think i do."

beomgyu took one of your hands, already entwined with his, and raised it to his lips, planting a delicate kiss on the back. you didn't pull away, though a slight flinch ran through you. his voice, soft and concerned, cut through the quiet, "is this alright?"

you met his gaze, his eyes looking up at you dilated and pleading like a puppy's. you nodded silently, allowing him to continue.

he pressed his lips against your skin a few more times, the wet sounds his mouth made filling the room. with a heavy breath, you took in every detail of his gentle kisses—the way his plump lips pressed and nibbled at your skin, how slow, almost ritualistically.

"what were you thinking about?" he asked, his voice a muffled purr against your skin.

"w-what?" you stammered, trying to buy time as your mind raced to come up with a lie less embarrassing than the truth.

"you were so pretty like that just now, all spread out like a good girl...” he murmured softly, "tell me what got you like that."

you stalled. with an achingly slow movement, you mirrored his action. you brought his hand to your mouth, and brushed your lips over it. barely touched, almost imperceptibly.

a shiver down his spine. a sting to his heart. he watched you in awed stillness, his watering mouth half-open. then you whispered, "you."

"fuck, i– i want to do so many things to you. if you'll let me." he said. a blush crept across your cheeks as you instinctively tried to shy away, but his fingers beneath your chin guided you back to meet his gaze. "what did i do to get you like that? was it because of what you heard me say?" he asked.

"because of everything." you replied.

he moved up from the floor with deliberate slowness, each motion purposeful as if he were approaching a skittish forest creature, determined not to scare it away. cautious, he inched closer, finally settling beside you on the bed. "tell me." he said. "i wanna hear."

"you're smarter than daddy," you began to say, your voice mumbled, as you gazed at him, his features so close you could count the flecks of gold in his eyes. "daddy thinks he's god's chosen one, but you keep outplaying him. so what does that make you?"

"a hellhound," he replied with a cynical smile, drawing even nearer.

"no," you said softly, shaking your head in disagreement. "you're good. and you're sweet to me." with tender care, you brushed his bangs, your fingertips delicately tracing the contours of his face like a child exploring a new toy. you lingered over his brows, his long lashes, the graceful curve of his cupid's bow, and the strong line of his jaw. "and you're… really pretty."

an impulse like a mighty wave of devotion pushed beomgyu to cup your face, his thumb tracing delicate lines over your skin as he asked, voice barely more than a whisper, "have you ever been kissed?"

"yes." you nodded. though there was a flicker of fear in your eye, like he would've been disappointed at that lack of purity. but if he did, he said nothing.

"show me how you do it." he urged, his words a gentle plea as he drew closer, his breath mingling with yours.

you leaned in painfully still, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you. but just before your lips met, you paused. hesitated. this changed everything. but beomgyu met your gaze unwaveringly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret or doubt. then, with a soft smile, he encouraged you forward.

you brushed your lips against his, ever so slightly. it was a trembling little touch. chaste. when you pulled away, beomgyu's eyes remained fixed on you, half closed and drunk in longing.

he gently pivoted the hand that had cupped your face, trailing its back along the curve of your cheekbone to finally rest it at the nape of your neck. "so pretty," he whispered. "why are you so scared?"

"i don't want to disappoint you," you mumbled softly.

beomgyu's response was immediate, a fervent shake of his head. "never," he insisted, his voice a husky plea, "you're doing so well. please, kiss me again."

with trembling fingers, you reached up to his neck, your heartbeat a wild rhythm in your chest. you nestled his upper lip within yours. a little more intensely this time, but still experimental, like you were gingerly trying to color within the lines.

beomgyu was gone. you were so soft and plush and just so scared to do anything wrong. he lingered, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. "they're mine now," he said in a low growl.

he took over, giving you a deep wet kiss. unrestrained, heavy like a lion’s roar. as you moved your lips together, beomgyu demanded more and more, leaving you breathless. one of his hands rested on your thigh, tentatively stroking, fondling over the skin, as if to soothe you, to tell you everything was alright.

he tilted his head, seeking depth in your mouth. one of your hands traced up the length of his chest and reached his neck, which you squeezed tightly as you felt his mouth opening yours to let his tongue in. you tensed. he noticed. “do you like that?” he asked, breath heavy.

“i... yes."

and so he did it again. another painfully lusty kiss that left your lips soaked and swollen. you escaped a moan that he loved so desperately, making him bite on your lower lip, drawing another embarrassingly whiny whimper out of you. after a softer peck, he outlined the bitten skin with his tongue.

he devoured your lips again, eating out your mouth. he slipped his tongue back into your mouth to circle yours, playing with it; then he pulled back, as if urging you to follow him. he wanted you to try yourself.

his hand on your thigh moved to embrace your waist, fingers poking into your skin. you felt firm, secure. in the middle of the unbridled kiss, your tongue ended up in his mouth. so soft. my good little girl. he let out a grunt of satisfaction. happy with his reaction, your instinct got you to hold on to him tighter, trying to find a closeness that was impossible in that position.

he got frustrated at it, too, his groans turning into hummed pleading moans against your lips. for a painful second, he pulled away to say, "let me watch you fuck yourself, just like you were when i came in. please." he said. "would you be comfortable with that?" he asked. 

you nodded slightly, though you weren't even sure you were telling the truth. they were irreconcilable, avoiding embarrassment and giving in to the aching sensation in your pussy the moment he spoke those words.

he stretched his arm out toward the pillow, gently offering it to you, observing as you knelt on the bed and retook the position he had found you in. he helped you through it, caring for you with caresses and soft kisses, but he went back to seat at the edge of the mattress, gnawing lightly on his lip with anticipation. you didn't want that, you realised. you wanted him close.

you reached out your hand for him to grasp, "what is it, baby?" he asked, tending to you with gravity.

you guided him towards you, maneuvering him to recline half-seated against the bedhead. he caught on to your intentions and leaned in to give you a gentle peck before allowing his hands to settle on your hips, helping you in adjusting the pillow beneath you.

now on all fours, with him facing you, he noticed you wanted to say something, the words lingering on your lips. "is everything alright?" he asked, his hand tenderly caressing your arm.

you stammered a bit before shyly asking, “can you keep on kissing me?”

he smiled fondly. he would never in a million years be able say no to you. “of course, my angel.”

he drew nearer, his proximity warming you up. having him there like that, you didn't need to support yourself on your arms- instead, you found yourself instinctively clinging to his neck. with a mellow kiss and his hands firmly securing their hold on your hips, he led the start of the back and forward motion.

the first reactions the rubbing of your clit against the fabric drew out were subdued, mere soft moans and gentle breaths mingling with his the plush of beomgyu’s lips. but with his grasp pressing you down, those initial movements evolved into more intense and profound ones.

he let one of his hands abandon your hips to entwine his fingers in the strands of your hair. the louder your moans got, the tighter his grip on it. he was so hard, with no escape for it. but he liked the pain, the desperation. "you sound so beautiful, fuck–" he breathed out. "but i'm gonna feel so much better than that."

the promise echoed in your mind, getting you to let out a crying plead, "p-please, beomgyu..." you moaned out, as you fumbled with your hand to find his.

"you want me to help you out?" he asked, almost like it was a privilege.

"mhm," you whimpered with a sheepish, frantic nods.

"cute." he breathed out. his face was flushed and burning hot, his cock ached uncomfortably, but he spartanly focused on his little angel’s pleasure above anything else.

he wrapped his arms around your waist and took you to his lap, where he held you tight. "are you comfortable like this?" he asked, placing a a soft peck to your forehead.

"yes." you answered, embarrassingly. you were wet to the point of dampening your inners thighs, and you were mortified to have him see, to even stain him. but he'd notice soon enough.

he grunted as he kept on kissing down your face. your temples, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth, your ridiculously tasty lips. he held on to your waist for dear life with one of his arms, but allowed the other to travel down, slowly and deviantly towards your virgin pussy.

"you're soaked, my baby." he breathed out. you would've felt self-conscious at the exposure, but you saw in his eyes how bad he liked it. how starved and aroused he seemed when he began to caress your wet cunt with his slender fingers.

his cold touch startled you at first, making you hold on to his neck tighter. you were too sore, too sensitive. "don't be scared. i'm gonna take such good care of you," he said. "i promise."

tentatively, he stroked over the surrounding area of your aching centre, index and middle finger touching softly over your wetness. he performed circling motions in your clit, taking his time. getting to hear you. “b-beomgyu, you—god—you feel really good…”

he learned that when you liked something he did, you'd shower him in desperate soft pecks, like a puppy licks your hand after you pat its head. he wanted to see you react further, he wanted to try it all. he spread your pussy with both fingers and pressed forcefully against your throbbing clit with a third one. startled, you clutched his hair so firmly you feared you might have hurt him.

as by instinct, your thighs twitched from the overstimulation and seemed to want to close around his hand, but he didn't let them. he shushed into your lips with a soft "shhh," soothing as the seashore before leaning in for a honeyed kiss. he traced patterns against your cheek with his nose after pulling away. "its alright. you're doing so fucking well."

he let you catch your breath, but not for too long. he quickened his pace, your moans getting too loud, wept out and filthy enough to horrify all the saints in the house of god. it became a duel of you trying to suppress yourself and keep it quiet, and beomgyu trying to get everyone in the house to know how good he was for you.

to restrain the growing sound of your moaning, you buried your face into beomgyu’s neck, trying to muffle your voice against his body. but he huffed into your ear, "don't hold back. only you and me matter, no one else."

"i think i–" you whimpered into his ear, choking on your own puffs. the pleasure crept up on you, becoming too strong to bear and making your whole body shudder against his. "beomgyu, please..." you cried out.

he saw how close you were, and quickly thought if he should or should not stop it. tease you, edge you, have you go on all night. he could do so many things, he ached so much to do them all. but as he saw your pretty face so desperate to cum, how needy and palpitating, you were, he decided he had all the time in the world.

his movements quickened, each motion filled with urgency and strength. his veiny, strained forearm bore the weight of the world as he got you to your peak.

you came with a stifled cry but you muted your voice against his neck again. he wished he could've heard it in its full, piercing clarity, but he understood. you were so sheepish, his perfect little girl.

he didn't pull his hand away immediately, instead letting you feel his warmth for a little longer as you trembled against his chest. "my baby, you did so well," he whispered into your ear, his voice a soothing balm as he gently cradled your body.

now that the tension had drained from your limbs, you found yourself collapsing against him, your body limpy and worn out. it was then that you noticed the bulge in his pants. "beomgyu…" you murmured, your voice heavy. "teach me how to help you out."

"forget about me," he replied with a gentle smile. "i just wanted to get you to trust me tonight. to show you how good i can make you feel." 

you gazed at him, cherishing his handsome features. his cheeks were flushed, too, and his eyes so gentle. you couldn't help but cup his face in your hands, drawn to him. but as you leaned in to kiss him, he stopped you faintly, saying, "wait. don't kiss me. i want you to have something to look forward to, so you'll be excited to see me again tomorrow."

"you'll come back tomorrow?" you asked, your eyes lighting up with hope.

“i couldn’t stay away even if i wanted to,” he replied. but as he said it, he noticed a flicker of guilt crossing your face. gently, he brushed a strand of hair away from your reddened cheek. "how are you feeling?" he asked softly.

your gaze darkened slightly. "like i shouldn't have done it," you admitted. "like daddy saw everything."

"i'm… sorry," beomgyu said, his voice full of consternation.

"no, it's not your fault. those thoughts aren't real. i can make the guilt go away, in time," you reassured him. "but i like it when you hold me. that's real. i… like you. a lot, i think."

beomgyu didn't even know what to say. he struggled to understand how this could be wrong to any human religion or faith since the dawn of time, because to him this felt like heaven. he held you in his arms, all flushed and a little tired, your lips swollen like ripe cherries from the kisses he had given you. this was fucking nirvana for all he cared.

he deeply regretted his no-kissing rule, and he sought to end it immediately. he leaned in, but you stopped him.

"no," you chuckled, "don't kiss me. i want you to have something to look forward to so that you're excited to come back tomorrow."

he smiled back at you, like an absolute fool. maybe he was in love, even if it only had been a day, whatever. but how could he not be when he had the cutest being in existence all to himself? "give me a gift before i go, then," he said. "something i can carry with me.

"what do you want?" you asked.

"this," he said, pointing at your rosary beads. with a gesture that felt almost ceremonial, you took off the pendant and placed it around his neck. as you did, he couldn’t help but stare at your lips. "can’t i kiss you just a little?" he pouted.

you shook your head with a soft giggle. "your rules," you reminded him. "be stronger."

“fine. have it your way.”

he smiled, but it quickly vanished as you remembered him; “you should go. or soobin will know.”

he nodded, eyes filled with disappointment. the moment you lifted yourself off his lap, detached yourself off of him, an intense wave of pain surged through both of you. like a limb had been atrociously ripped off your body.

but just as he was about to leave, you grabbed his wrist, halting him. “beomgyu, wait,” you called out, rising to your knees to meet his gaze.

you pressed a gentle, lingering kiss on his cheek, just as you had done the night before. the softness of your touch sent a shiver down his spine. as you pulled back, beomgyu instinctively leaned forward, craving more. but you placed your index finger against his lips, stopping him. “you’re so weak,” you teased with a playful glint in your eyes.

he smiled ruefully. “i am,” he admitted with a sigh, the weight of reality settling back in. he really had to leave. “good night,” he murmured.

stepping out into the dark, the world felt colder, and his eyes struggled to adjust to the dimness. he lingered for a moment, leaning his back against the door, not wanting to leave just yet, but his head bumped against something.

of course.

he turned around to regard the crucifix, holding the one you had given him in his hands. same color, same material. a bittersweet smile played on his lips. “she was so good,” he told jesus christ. “and i think i made her happier, just a little. i feel a little happier too. i told you, it was much purer than you think.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ so. i really struggled through this one. lemme know what you think.

[silkscream]

pure smile snake venom

ੈ✩ suguru geto x reader

ੈ✩ cw: smut (minors dni, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), unprotected sex, dom!suguru, emotional manipulation, fingering, dubcon, blood, yandere behavior, edging, multiple orgasms, choking, loss of virginity, religious imagery

ੈ✩ wc: 5.1k

ੈ✩ a/n: oooo i am soo normal about cult leader suguru. art by @/wonowono__3 on twitter

He finds you unconscious. 

He feels you before he sees you – your cursed energy permeates the air with dread. He can feel it in his throat, as if the hand of his past self materialized to strangle him, reminding him of desperation. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, not anymore.

It also felt like death. 

When he finds you, your body would have easily been looked over, small as you were compared to the vastness of the forest around you. Insignificant, left to rot. 

When he’d looked at your face, there was recognition in his chest despite not seeing you before. He hadn’t been drawn to anyone in a while. He barely had anyone that wasn’t at arm's length to him, even his closest devouts, yet something about the delicateness of your face enticed him. A predator finding lost prey.

He finds it mildly sacrilegious to touch you when you’re in this state, but your shirt was saturated with so much blood that it took him a bit to realize that the color of the fabric was supposed to be white and not merlot-red. He lifts your shirt, grimacing at its dampness, and finds a wound that looks fatal. 

He looks at it and feels the residuals of a nasty curse. By the time he tracks it down, he tortures it with all of the energy inside of him. 

__

You wake up on a futon you don’t recognize. You don’t remember a thing. 

You wince as you attempt to rise, clutching your side. You’re topless, clothed only by gauze covering your chest and ribs. 

You exhale, closing your eyes. In the darkness behind your eyelids, you see a face with a vacant smile. You are met with that very smile when you open your eyes again.

“Welcome back.”

You blink. He must be the stranger that saved you from — well, what did he save you from? You were used to spirits, took years to adjust to that fact, and have even killed a few yourself. But when you feel the pain in your side, nothing comes to mind.

“You… saved me?”

“I suppose so. It was pure luck that I happened to stumble upon you.”

“Where — where am I?”

He tells you it’s his temple, then he tells you his name. When he asks for yours, you’re reluctant. Eventually, you tell him. If he was luring you into his trap, you suppose you had fallen into it against your will by pure chance. It was probably better than bleeding out in the middle of nowhere.

“Do you have anyone who will miss you?” 

You don’t say anything. You think of the dingy studio apartment you’ve been subletting for a few months. You try to conjure up a narrative of belonging in your head that would give you any reason for you to leave. Nothing comes.

You shake your head.

__

Geto Suguru is the first person to tell you that you’re magic.

You knew that, in some way, ever since you were a child. Your intuition made you a strange child, always slightly cryptic with a sense of maturity that made you seem like a vessel for a sad ghost. Your visions would only get stronger – small bursts of light whiplashing through your mind into images, rapid like a supercut. The things you saw would come true. 

This is what makes you a good weapon. Ironically, you had always thought of yourself as weak. 

He was captivating the way a cult leader should be, and you had fallen under his spell. It was his robes and the regal way he carried himself, maybe. You don’t think he’s bad — he’s made you important, and you’ve never felt wanted before. You were a recluse before Suguru found you. Barely the shape of anything, so he found it appropriate to mold you into something to call his.

Suguru doesn’t tell you much. You know that he probably lies to you.

He holds too much power for you to question it. His cursed technique is daunting and his grace is enviable, but he’s mostly kind. You help him when he finds curses, usually the more powerful ones that could threaten him. Able to see into the near future, you can sense their next move each time. It makes it easy to subdue them to Suguru’s advantage.

You also find that he is regarded as something of a saint to non-sorcerers. Something twists in your gut when you watch his exorcisms, seeing the immediate relief in the faces of his followers. They look at him with so much adoration that it makes you self-conscious that you share the same disposition.

He tells you you’re his favorite and the feeling dissipates.

You like how ritualistic living in the temple is. Breakfast at the same time each day. Tea in the garden. Rolling in the gross with bruised knuckles.

You take a liking to his girls. They remind you of yourself, but they lack the meekness you had as a teenager. The twins adore you almost as much as they adore Suguru. They are endlessly fickle, as most teenage girls are, but their devotion is worn candidly in the way they carry themselves. You wonder how they can be so obedient, but you realize that they have known nothing else. 

It’s a quiet luxury. You like to pretend that you’re some sort of priestess, sometimes. You had never been as reverent as your mother, but you think that there is peace in serving a God.  If not Suguru, then some higher power must’ve granted you another chance at life, even if your new life meant mundane piety. 

You liked routine – it fit you. You did your part in the temple and Suguru would reward you with gentle praises. You were only one of few sorcerers in his current entourage, so you felt special. 

Despite this, something felt messing. You often wish Suguru could cast out the malaise inside of you, but you’ve carried it in the pit of yourself for as long as you could remember. Even in your pious bliss, you start wondering if the curse that nearly killed you left a part of itself within you. Each day is the same until you wear thin.

When the string finally breaks, you find him with blood on his hands in the temple’s omoya.

It’s not the blood of a curse, either. It’s dark crimson, such as the same blood that is inside of you, and on the tatami mat lies the lifeless body of a servant. 

Shin, his name was. He wasn’t much younger than you, but he had the spirit of a boy, always able to make you laugh before he served you breakfast. He had arrived only a few months after you had, citing suicidal ideation as a catalyst to seeking Suguru’s services. Once treated, he had felt larger than life. 

And now, his face is frozen in time – the look of sheer fear. 

“Useless monkey,” Suguru tuts, wiping the blood off his face. You’ve seen that look on his face before — when he’s cruel and callous in battle. When he snaps the neck of a special grade curse before he eats it. 

You run to the bathroom to vomit.

When you emerge, one of the twins looks at you curiously. Mimiko. She smiles at you serenely, her eyes flickering with taunt. 

“Is everything alright, Y/N-san?”

“Y-yes,” you nod. “Just a bit under the weather.”

“Are you feeling sick?” Her eyes light up for a second. “Oh, could you be pregnant? Nanako and I really wish there was another kid around—“

“No, no, I’m not pregnant,” you cut her off, shocked. Did she think you and Suguru were… together? Did she think you were his concubine?

“Ah. I can get the servants to prepare some ginger tea for you.”

“No need, Mimiko,” you shake your head, smiling sheepishly. “I just… need to get some air.”

She leaves you alone as you walk towards the pagoda. You feel another wave of nausea when you remember Shin’s lifeless eyes. The blood on his throat. 

You stare at the sunset. It’s been a long time since you’ve left the temple of your own volition. Suguru keeps a tight leash on you nowadays, blaming the unpredictability of your power. Bitterly, you realize that you’re only ever in town alongside him. 

Sometimes, you miss being a stray.

His presence is immediate. When you turn, his long hair sways in the breeze as he flashes you a cat-like smile. 

“Thought you were trying to run away from me,” he murmurs, walking towards you. “But you’d never do that, would you?”

“Just… enjoying the view.”

He looks at you, amused. It feels belittling. 

“I apologize. I thought Nanako had locked the door.”

Your blood stills. He saw you.  

“I thought you only killed curses,” you stammer. For the first time, his presence makes you feel unsafe. 

“I never said that, sweet girl,” he chuckles. He plays with a loose strand of your hair. “Humans are beneath us, you know that. Humans are the reason curses are created. Curses just like the one that nearly killed you.”

You don’t have it in you to protest. He’s gotten closer to you now. A hand on your waist. His lips kissing your hairline in a way that makes you feel like a child again.

“I— I liked him,” you stutter. 

“Mm,” he hums. “He liked you, too. A bit too much if you ask me.”

You stay silent. Only the sound of cicadas fill the air. 

“It’s not your fault,” he grins. “You charm anyone you meet by default, you know. But sometimes, these followers… they want to threaten our mission. Sometimes, they’re paid off by sorcerers who are targeting me to gather intel. And darling, when there’s a target on my back, there’s a target on yours.”

You pull away from him with wide eyes. His face is neutral. So naive, you are. He was only doing you a favor, but a sheltered girl like you trusts too easily. 

“Just remember. I will be the only one to protect you.”

__

He finds you in the garden.

You’re surrounded by wildflowers, your yukata loose enough on you that it falls off your shoulder when you sit up to greet him. The sight of your bare skin tokes the fire in his stomach. He’s dressed more casually tonight, in a plain kimono as opposed to his usual gojo-gesa.

“Enjoying the fireflies?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He notices the dark circles under your eyes. Your smile is tired now. You stare blankly as if you’re in a trance. 

“You’ve been a bit off lately,” he muses. “Something on your mind?”

You blink at him in surprise, almost regretting it once you make eye contact. The hint of a lazy smile is there while his eyes scrutinize you. It always feels like he can see right through you, observing you just before he eats you whole. 

“No, Geto-sama,” you shake your head.

He laughs, rubbing your shoulder. “So formal with me.”

“Shouldn’t I be?” you knit your brows. You had been at the temple for less than a year. You weren’t intimate with him enough to warrant that. You weren’t intimate with him in the way your heart longed for.

“Not with me. Never with me.”

“Suguru.” You mull over the taste of his name on your tongue. The shape of it in your mouth. “I’m okay, Suguru.”

You feel pathetic under his gaze. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something, sensing the apprehension in your voice. The slight quiver of your bottom lip as you avoid his face.

“I’m just… recovering. From my technique, that’s all,” you say hoarsely.

It’s not a complete lie — the intensive training with Suguru led you to discover that you could bend time and space to your will in small aspects. Teleporting short distances became a new tool for your arsenal. It was still difficult to manage and exhausting to exert. The other day, your nose had bled so much that you almost thought your membranes would burst completely.

“You’re exhausting yourself,” he says gently, rubbing a hand to the small of your back. “But you’re improving rapidly. I’m proud of you.”

Warmth floods your body at his praise. It was too easy for him to wrap you around his finger, and you were starting to hate it.

“Thank you,” you mumble. 

“Do you feel powerful?”

You take a moment of reprieve when he asks this. Powerful? Despite being a sorcerer and wielding the ability to exorcise the monstrous manifestations of human suffering, you did not feel powerful at all. You never have. If anything, you only felt useful.

“Not really.”

“You should,” he smiles. “You’re getting stronger. We’re untouchable together, you and me.”

You and me echoes loud in your brain. Stitches itself into every crevice unwittingly. 

“Ge– Suguru,” you swallow thickly. “Is that why you saved me? Because you wanted me to get strong?”

“Yes,” he nods without hesitation. “I saw potential in you.”

“Is that all I am? Potential? I’m just– just a vehicle for you?”

He leans over to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His own hair is down, for once, and you can smell his white tea shampoo as his shoulder touches yours. It almost soothes you.

“You aren’t just a tool to me, you know that,” he sighs, looking at you with intent. “I like taking care of you.”

You nod slowly as you look towards the sky. His words aren’t enough to fill the emptiness inside you. His proximity to you makes your chest constrict in the slightest bit, creaking the floorboards of your ribs inside a haunted house body. 

You shiver when he pulls down your yukata and presses a chaste kiss to your collarbone. It must feel the same as when humans get their curses exorcised by him. Lightness in their being instead of dead weight. Blessed by a god.

“Come inside,” he purrs. “You’re getting cold, yeah? I can see your goosebumps.”

No. His hands were just colder than you expected.

He gathers his hair into a half-up bun before he brings you to his room for the first time. It’s rather bare, save for the kotatsu across from his futon and the talismans that are hanging above it. The calligraphy is messy, unintelligible, as if the text was written manically. 

He sits you down at the kotatsu and pours you bergamot tea. You cough nervously in anticipation.

“Suguru.”

“Yes?”

“Um.. how long do you intend on keeping me here?”

He raises a brow. Looks at you like you’ve asked something stupid.

“You have somewhere else to go?” he asks sarcastically.

You triple-blink at his bluntness. He isn’t taking you seriously. 

“Well, I have a friend or two in my hometown. I was thinking about—”

Your breath hitches when he grabs your chin. His gaze bores into your face, his lips in a hard line.

“You’re unhappy,” he says plainly.

“No, I’m just not sure if I can completely fulfill the purpose that you—”

“Do you think anyone else will take you in?” he spits. “You told me yourself. You have no family. You were barely scraping by when you lived alone. With the amount of cursed energy you possess, you think you’ll be able to protect your friends from all the curses you’ll attract?”

You sink into yourself. As if a switch is flipped, his expression changes completely. There’s that familiar softness in his eyes again. God, the tea was making you feel so warm, too. One look from him and you find yourself melting. Even the Devil would swoon.

“Don’t you think fate brought us together?” he whispers. “Don’t you know how valuable you are to me?”

He almost sounds like he means it. Your rabbit heart speeds up when he strokes your collarbone with his thumb. A heady feeling consumes you and you force yourself to tear your gaze away.

“Look at me,” he demands, grabbing your chin again. He crowds your space, not leaving you any room to breathe. Your gut aches from sudden heat.

“God made you for me. Don’t you know that?”

Your mind goes blank as you nod slowly. He looks at you like he’s starved. No one’s ever looked at you like that before. No one has ever really looked at you before him.

“I’m— I’m sorry, Suguru,” you whisper.

He caresses your cheek, his breath tickling your jaw as he leans in.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand what it’s like to feel a little stir-crazy. I’ll take you out more often, yeah?”

“O-okay.”

He grins and it comes off as sardonic.

“Such a spoiled girl. Only the very best for my girl, hm? I clothe her, feed her, make her stronger. And what do I get in return?” he scolds, thumb swiping over your quivering bottom lip. “She tries to run away from me.”

“I’m not,” you pout.

“You’re not?” he scoffs.

You don’t know what to do other than apologize. You were weak like that.

“You’re so good,” he sighs. “And you want to keep being good, is that right?”

“Yes,” you mumble. 

You shiver again when he runs his fingers through your hair, his other hand undoing the ties of your yukata. You sharply inhale at the cool air hitting in your nipples, the rest of you trembling at the prospect of being so bare in front of him. God or prophet, you didn’t know. All that you know now is that there was no coming back from this. 

“My good girl,” he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. “My best girl.”

You whimper when you feel his tongue on your jaw. His kisses are tantalizingly slow. Teasing. He marvels at the flutter of your lashes in response to his touch. 

He had tried to deny those feelings in the beginning, but he couldn’t help it anymore. He feels as though he’s created you. He liked you delicate, lace winged. A butterfly caught in a jar.

Suguru thinks this is fair. He has always believed in fairness, and although one might argue that his philosophy is a direct contradiction to that, he could beg to differ. Different people had different values, that was all. You just happened to have an advantage in the hierarchy he holds in his head. A precious thing, his treasure. 

When he turned his back on Jujutsu society by becoming a curse user, he would avenge the suffering of the sorcerers around him. Years of adapting to the taste of shit and vomit would eventually earn him something that made it all worth it. He’s convinced that something was you.

He was your savior, therefore you were his blessing. It was only fair that he could take you the way he wanted. You were meant to be found by him. You were meant to be kept. 

You barely put up a fight.

You whimper when he parts your legs with his hands and finds you embarrassingly wet. Every stroke of his hands on your inner thigh has you twitching involuntarily. 

“Oh,” he coos. “Look at that.”

You look away in shame, trying to close your legs, but he forces them open with a bruising grip. Your heart drops to your stomach. 

“What’s wrong, baby? You want to be good for me, right?”

You nod without a word, trying to control your breathing. Your brain is telling you that you want this — you’d wanted to be his from the moment you saw him. Your body tells you the same, but dread creeps up your spine.

You gasp when he grazes your clit with his fingers. He plays with it, stares at your cunt through your underwear like it’s a prize.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs. “Don’t be afraid. I’m the only person in this world you can trust.”

He slips your panties off easily and you wince at the sound of your wetness sticking to the fabric. He applies more pressure to your bud, distracting you with his mouth on yours. You mewl into his mouth without realizing and he grins against your lips, slipping his tongue inside. 

When you feel a finger push into your walls, you convulse in surprise, though you don’t pull away like he expects. You merely clutch him harder, your hands wrinkling the sleeve of his haori. 

“Shit, you’re tight,” he rasps. “No one’s been here before, is that right? Just me?”

He groans when you look at him with innocent eyes and nod meekly. Of course he would be your first. You were nothing but a wounded dog when he found you, barely had a life of your own before he took you. You were pure and the world was keeping you for him. It was meant to be.

“S-Suguru…” you breathe. He’s pulled you into his lap now, your cunt getting his kimono wet. The slick of your cunt around his finger is enough to make blood rush to his cock. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles. In one fell swoop, he takes you in his arms and carries you to the futon. You squeak in surprise at being lifted off the floor so quickly and so easily. 

He takes the pause in his actions to undress himself, slipping off his robes, and when you see the thickness of his length prodding against his toned stomach, your mouth goes dry. 

“C’mere,” he beckons. You obey.

He kisses you sweetly on your mouth and then down your jaw, squeezing your breasts. Your breath hitches as he takes the time to rub his thumb over your nipples. Suddenly, his teeth graze your chest. Biting, tasting. Forbidden fruit.

You let out a quiet moan and he chuckles. “So sensitive.”

Without a warning, he plunges two fingers into your cunt and you nearly cry out. There’s a choked noise, something in between pleasure and resignation. It’s all too much. When he adds a third finger and feels much less resistance, he laughs. 

“Taking me so well. You’re doing so good,” he encourages before lapping at your chest again. When his fingers curl at just the right angle, your vision starts to get fuzzy. His thumb on your clit only intensifies the feeling.

“I c-can’t—”

“Hm? Use your words.”

“I’m… I’m gonna…”

His movements still and you nearly scream. He pulls back to see tears brimming your eyes and he kisses them away gently despite his cruel smirk. 

“Nonono, please—”

“Please what?” He feigns innocence. 

You bite your lip, your face too hot to feel comfortable expressing what you want. You feel the ghost of your curse wrap around your throat again. Once again, you find that the ticket to salvation has silky black hair and snake eyes. The artillery of a fallen angel disguised as something pure.

He can tell you’re frustrated but too afraid to voice it. You’re as pliable as he knew you would be. Endlessly easy to coax a reaction from. 

“Do you expect everything to be handed to you? Just because you’re mine?” he taunts. 

His. His. His.

You shake your head, whimpering. 

“Then ask nicely, baby.”

Your cunt is on fire even though he isn’t touching you. When he strokes your lip and pushes his thumb into your mouth, you let him. Your tongue tickles his fingertip.

“Ah, so you still have a tongue. You can still speak.”

He laughs when you pout.

“Please touch me,” you say, your voice as quiet as a breeze.

“What was that?” He grins even wider. 

“Pleasetouchme,” you whimper, your voice light as air.“Please… please make me cum.”

“Good girl,” he chuckles, licking into your mouth. His fingers fuck you in earnest now. You feel so full that your eyes roll back. It’s cute.

Poor thing. Suguru is a patient man, but he’s not sure if he has it in him to wait. He could make you cum three more times so that you’re truly ready for him, but he doesn’t want to. He supposes that if he breaks you, you’ll thank him anyway. No one else wants you more than him, you had to understand that. 

His cock throbs at the sight of you coming undone. It’s nearly animalistic, like provoking violence from weak prey. Cataclysmic like a falling star. He’s consumed with it, with the fact that he can do this to you and no one else can. 

He fingers you through the aftershocks, too, until you sob loud enough that his other hand has to cover your mouth. You squirm underneath him, shaking your head in desperation. 

He admires the slick of sweat on your chest, your glowing figure. When he releases you, he thinks briefly that you’re on the verge of passing out. But you tremble, rapidly breathing, eyes unfocused as your lashes flutter. 

Suguru licks you off of his fingers and you stare in horror, returning to yourself.  It makes him giddy, how even your spirit is infinitesimal.

“You taste so sweet,” he purrs. He kisses you roughly, tongue prying your mouth open and making you moan. “See? Sweet. You’re perfect.”

He likes seeing you all flushed. Glaze on your cheekbones. He thinks he should make you his wife, memorialize your fucked out form with a commissioned painting and hang it above his bed. A good luck charm among the talismans. You look too good to ruin with his cock, but he knows he’d already taken all of you anyway.

He’ll put you back together after. Pamper you with yuzu slices in a hot bath. Play the part of a boyfriend instead of a master.

He pins you down even though he doesn’t need to. You let him settle in between your thighs, his aching cock slapping against your stomach. 

“So cute when you’re scared,” he chuckles at the look on your face.

“It’s… big,” you say meekly. 

“It’ll fit. It won’t be so bad, yeah? I changed my mind about punishing you for trying to run away.”

Panic paints your features.

“I wasn’t trying to run away! I promise.” Your lip quivers again. Maybe he should make you beg.

“Is that right?” He leans in, precum spreading on the skin above your cunt, tip grazing your clit just slightly. You bite your tongue so you don’t moan from the sensitivity.

“Yes. I want to stay.”

“And why’s that?” he jeers. 

“Because— because you’ve given me everything.”

He waits for you to elaborate.

“Because I’m yours. I’m…  your good girl,” you slur through tears, voice above a whisper.

“Poor baby,” he hums. “Of course you are. Always will be.” Whether you like it or not.

You moan at the same time he prods his tip inside. When he sinks in even further, right to the hilt, he becomes delirious with need. It takes everything in him to not pound into you recklessly.

“Pretty fucking cunt,” he groans. “So warm.”

More hot tears, but your dread is replaced with rapture. He fills you up, already poking at the most sensitive spot inside of you. Your body ripples with pleasure as he moves and digs into your guts, an ocean of tender heat.

It’s a branding. You don’t exist if it isn’t for him.

“Suguru,” you moan. 

He kisses your neck, teeth hard on your flesh. Pulling it taut while his tongue rolls in it and leaves mouth-shaped blessings.

His hips drive into you with more force, cock reaching places that your fingers could never reach. You shut your eyes and phosphenes float through the static of blackness. They linger when you open them again, Suguru’s face illuminating in grainy color.

It takes you a bit to realize his mutters, the way he’s babbling through moans.

Good fucking girl. All mine forever. I’ll die with you.

You let out a pitched moan as Suguru wraps his fingers around your throat. Every part of your body feels like it’s bursting. You cum like that, your walls outstretched by his thickness carving you out in the shape of him. 

“Take it,” he grunts. “Take my cock. Fuck, I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

He’ll probably obsess over your cunt for ages. The face you make when you’re being used. Your ragdoll body.

His bun had come undone. Even if his cock wasn’t in you, your stomach would ache from how beautiful he looked. Eyes focused on you, nearly deranged at the way he was blistering you raw. The cascade of tears down your cheeks. It made him impossibly hard. 

He pulls out quickly to flip you onto your stomach so he can rut into you from behind. The angle makes it so that his cock is even deeper. 

“Oh, Suguru��”

“Yeah, baby? Gonna cum again?”

You whine, all high-pitched and girlish. 

“Tell me you’re mine. That you’ll never leave me,” he grunts.

“I’m yours,” you hiccup. “I’ll n-never leave you.”

Your cunt was starting to burn, even with how wet you were. Suguru cums with a rough thrust at your words, nose buried in between the lovebirds littering your shoulder. You’re full of him. He doesn’t stop, his dick still hard inside you. 

“Shit,” he hisses, looking down to see his cum oozing out of your pussy, all mixed up in your arousal. “How are you still so fucking tight?”

He grits his teeth when he feels you squeeze around him. You can barely form words now, crying as you can feel yourself about to cum again. 

“That’s it,” he pants. “Cum for me, princess. Cum on that cock for me.”

You’re twitchier this time. Your moan tapers off into squeals as you bury your tear-stained face into the pillow. He follows after you with a gasp, his large body covering you like a cocoon. 

He kisses the nape of your neck. Between your shoulder blades. His cock stills inside you, but he doesn’t pull out until he softens completely. When you stop shaking, he turns you over. 

“There’s my angel,” he says fondly. “Thought you passed out on me.”

You shake your head. He smiles lazily, leaning to kiss you all over your face. 

Your bones feel like jelly, but you still switch your positions with intent, and to your surprise, he lets you. Naked and breathing heavily above him, you examine him with his hair spread out on the pillow, cheeks flushed and cherubic. He almost looks innocent. 

He groans at the way your leaking cunt grinds on his crotch, prompting him to get half-hard already. He grabs your hips at the same time you grab the base of his throat. He laughs. 

“Do you feel powerful?”

You blink twice and your eyes glaze over. 

In your vision, you see Suguru’s face flashing you his usual grin, this time showing all his teeth as blood drips from his chin. When you look down at your hands, they’re saturated in the same red. He kisses you despite it all and you understand. 

“Yes,” you breathe. “I do.”

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hannibal Lecter X Reader: Us lonely few

Warnings: talk of loneliness, smut, kissing, rough sex, unprotected sex, penetration (p in v), drinking, no use of y/n

Word count: 2,5K

The sound of Ave Maria floats out of Hannibal's office. It makes you hesitate, your hand freezing in mid air. You weren’t supposed to be here at such a late hour but you’d lost track of time. You started working as Hannibal's secretary a month ago. He’d never found himself in need of a secretary but you'd managed to impress him. He enjoyed the way your eyes lit up as he spoke about the mysteries of the mind so he decided to keep you around.

It was nice to have someone nearby. It didn’t matter that you usually remained outside of his office as you worked, just the thought of not being alone seemed to ease Hannibal. He liked your company. You were younger than him but you shared his taste for the finer things in life. Conversation came easy when he was with you. It was almost as if you’d been made for each other.

You knock on the door waiting for a response. When one doesn't come you lean your ear against the wood trying to listen for Hannibal's footsteps. The only sound that fills your ears is music. It’s likely he can’t hear you because of the song. You can barely hear yourself as you call out for him.

“Dr Lecter, I'm coming in.”

As always his door is unlocked. You push it open with ease, momentarily balancing the books you were holding on your hips. You close the door behind you before moving to scan the room, trying to find Hannibal. He has his back turned to you but somehow he still manages to sense your presence. 

“I thought you’d gone home.”

You walk over to his desk placing the books you were holding on it before going towards him. 

“I lost track of time. Your books are very fascinating.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed them but I can't have you staying after hours.”

“You stay after hours.”

Hannibal looks up from his drawing to look at you. You meet his gaze, waiting to see how he’ll react to your comment. He stays serious for a second before smiling at you. 

“I suppose you're right.”

“I usually am.”

You grin at him before turning your attention back to his sketches. You lean over Hannibal's shoulder trying to get a better view. He watches you as you observe his work. He inhales deeply trying to commit your scent to memory. You're oblivious to his actions, far too focused on the drawing before you. It's a nude portrait of a woman. You can’t help but notice the way Hannibal has drawn her. There is a sensuality to the portrait but there is also a loneliness to the woman's expression.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yes she is.”

“Why’s she sad?”

“What makes you think she’s sad?”

“The way you drew her.”

You point to the image carefully so that you won't smudge the pencil.

“She's looking behind herself as if she’s searching for something but the way her arms are wrapped around herself shows she didn’t find what she wanted.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well she’s holding herself isn't she? I mean, she didn’t find someone to hold her so she had to hold onto herself. She’s lonely.”

“ I guess I didn't think about it that way.”

“Art has a way of bringing our feelings to the surface. Even if we ourselves don’t know what we're feeling.”

“Are you insinuating that I'm lonely?”

“Aren’t you?”

Hannibal eyes bore into yours as he thinks. Maybe he was lonely. Maybe that is why, after all these years, he found himself with a secretary even though he didn't particularly need one. 

“It’s okay to feel lonely. It doesn't make you any less strong.”

“Do you feel lonely?”

“I’ve felt alone my whole life. So yeah you could say loneliness is something I'm familiar with.”

Hannibal placed his hand over yours causing you to look at his face. His eyes softened as he took in your features. You were a pretty thing. He’d been so impressed with your mind he often forgot you also had a beauty he hadn't had the pleasure of being graced with in a long time. 

“Do you enjoy filet mignon?”

You let out a laugh at his question, eyes furring in curiosity.

“I do. Why?”

“I’m inviting you to dinner.”

“At your house?”

“Yes.”

“As long as I'm not intruding.”

“Not at all. I enjoy your company.”

Hannibal's house was very him. There were artworks scattered around the rooms and knowledge seemed to seep out of the walls. You removed your shoes and placed them by the door. Hannibal looked at you questioningly. “I don’t want to get your floors dirty.”

“If you feel more comfortable that way, be my guest.”

“You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you. The kitchen is this way.”

You followed Hannibal, eyes moving over every inch of his home you could see. A small gasp left your lips as you walked into the kitchen. You always enjoyed the culinary arts but you’d never had the pleasure of owning a kitchen big enough to explore your talents properly. Hannibal watched you as you moved around the room, a small smile tugging at his lips at your unfiltered fascination.

“I take it you enjoy cooking.”

“I’ve always had a curiosity for it but I'm not very skilled. I won’t die of hunger but I've never made any adventurous recipes. Just the basics you know?”

“Would you like to sous chef?”

“I’d love to.”

“Wonderful. You can start chopping the onions.”

You moved over to him grabbing the knife he handed you before moving to get the onions and a cutting board. Hannibal unbuttoned his shirt sleeve and pushed it up his arms allowing you to see his muscles. Your gaze lingered for a moment before focusing on your task once more. Hannibal moved around the kitchen with ease as he searched for the ingredients he needed. It was almost like a dance. You couldn’t help but watch him as he moved. He seemed so peaceful like this his mind completely focused on the meal he was preparing.

Your eyes started to sting as you continued to chop the onions. You sniffed quietly which caused Hannibal to look up at you. He watched as a single tear fell from your eyes before falling onto the counter. He moved over to you on instinct. You felt a hand on your cheek, turning to face Hannibal at his touch. His thumb moved over your skin, collecting your tears. It was an innocent caress but you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. He pulled his hand away from you, moving his thumb to his lips. He licked at his thumb, removing your tears from his skin. Your heartbeat fastened at the action. 

“Let’s switch tasks dear. Can’t have you crying in my kitchen. You can cut the meat.”

He paused for a moment glancing at the piece of raw meat on the counter before looking back at you.

“Unless it’s too much for you.”

“I’m not afraid of getting my hands a little bloody Hannibal. I’ll be fine.”

He knew you didn’t mean anything but it but his mind couldn’t help but wonder what you were capable of. You seemed like the type of person who knew how to hold their own. Still he wondered how far you’d be willing to go.

Hannibal took over chopping onions as you worked on the main piece of the meal. One he’d finished he moved over to watch you. Your hands moved over the pieces of meat with an unusual softness. Despite that you seemed to be having a hard time figuring out how big the pieces should be. Hannibal sensed your struggle. He moved behind you, his chest brushing against your back as he reached to place his hand over yours. You twisted your head to the side to look at him.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“Not at all dear. But you can cut the medallions a bit larger. Here let me help.”

You relaxed your arm so that Hannibal could maneuver your body in the way he wished. 

“There. That thickness is better.”

You turned to face him once more expecting him to be looking at the meat. Instead you found him staring at you. Your eyes dropped to his lips momentarily. You were so close to him that you could smell his aftershave. A breathy sigh left your mouth the air fanning over his lips. You wanted him to kiss you. His mouth opened but instead of kissing you he spoke.

“Could you set the table for us?”

“Oh. Yeah sure.”

“The silver ware is in the third drawer on the left.”

With that Hannibal unlatched himself from you allowing you to move over to where you needed. You walked over to the dining room. Your hands trembled as you placed the silver ware down. Hannibal's voice rang out from the kitchen.

“You can take a seat. It will be ready soon.” 

“Okay.”

A couple moments later Hannibal walked in with a platter in his hand and a bottle of wine in the other. 

“Do you drink?”

“Occasionally. But I'm not picky.”

“This wine was aged in a maple barrel. It has a sweet taste to it which will go perfectly with the meat.”

“Everything looks delicious.”

“I agree.”

You couldn’t help but notice Hannibal wasn’t looking at the food as he spoke, he was looking at you.

You ate until you couldn’t anymore. Hannibal filled up your cup as soon as you downed the last sip. After you finished dinner the two of you made your way to his living room. You were a little tipsy due to the wine causing you to become unfiltered. You padded against Hannibal's floor, moving to music that only you could hear. He enjoyed watching you like this. You were usually so formal around him it was nice to see you in a more relaxed manner. Hannibal observed you stumble over to his piano, hands toying with the keys before glancing in his direction. 

“Do you play?”

“I do.”

“Will you play for me?”

Hannibal could never deny an audience. He pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on, making his way over to where you stood. He sat down on the bench as you moved to rest your chin on the palm of your hand. Hannibal flexed his fingers, straightening his posture a bit before he began to play. The second his fingers began moving over the keys you became mesmerized. You walked over to the other side of the bench taking a seat beside him. You observed his fingers glide from one key to the other. He made it seem so easy. You closed your eyes, focusing on the sounds. As the song came to an end you slowly opened your eyes, a smile plastered against your face. You looked over at Hannibal only to find him already watching you. 

“That was beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

Your eyes softened at Hannibal's words. Your hand moved to cup his cheek. Slowly, you inched your face closer to his until your lips were inches apart. You placed a gentle kiss to his mouth waiting to see how he’d react. When he didn't pull away you kissed him again with a little more strength this time. Hannibal opened his mouth to you. Your tongues moved together as you deepened the kiss. Hannibal's hand wrapped around your hips lifting you up with ease. He placed you on his lap. Your back dug into the keys of the piano as you continued to make out. Hannibal's hands dug into the flesh of your ass causing you to whine. You bit his lip, tugging at it with your teeth as you broke the kiss. Your hands moved over Hannibal's shirt, fingers working on unbuttoning it. He could sense the desperation in your actions. He moved his hand over to your chest tugging at the buttons of your dress shirt. The buttons seemed to be toying with him. He lost his patience. Before you knew it Hannibal had ripped your shirt open. You gasped as he leaned down to kiss the valley of your breasts. 

“Hannibal…”

“What is it?”

“Take me to your bed.”

The soft sheets of Hannibal's bed rubbed against your face as your body moved with his thrusts. Your fingers dug into his pillow as you screamed out his name. There was no mercy in his movements. He was fucking you so hard you were sure you wouldn’t bae able to walk tomorrow. You thought he’d stop after the first round but you’d been wrong. Once you’d gotten tired of riding him he’d flipped you around shoving your face down onto the bed before lifting your ass and continuing to pistol into your.

The bed creaked as he moved, muffling the sounds of your moans. His hands moved against your ass, fingers leaving crescent moon shapes on your skin as he continued to manhandle you. You were squeezing him so much that he was having a hard time moving in and out of you. He reached his hand to your waist lifting you off the bed. Your bare back pressed against his chest. Hannibal licked at your earlobe before biting into it. You let out a yelp causing him to shush you.

“You’re gonna cum for me again.”

“Hannibal i can’t-”

“Yes you can. I know you can.”

He placed kisses against your shoulder blade as one of his hands found their way to your pussy. His thumb found your clit. He grunted as he circled the small bundle of nerves. You panted against him, hands grabbing at his hair to anchor yourself. Your jaw fell slack as your orgasm washed over you. Hannibal stopped supporting your body causing you to fall forward into the bed. His grunts became more constant as he continued to fuck into you. It took a couple thrusts but soon enough he was spilling his seed into you. You heard his groan as he pulled out. You remain unmoving, still trying to recover from your orgasm. Hannibal returned to bed, laying down beside you. He tugged you closer to him. You laid your head on his chest, fingers moving to play with the hairs on his chest. He listened to you breath, his hand moving to caress your hair as he did. 

“You were right.”

“Usually am. But what was I right about exactly?”

“She was lonely.”

You let out an understanding hum, comprehending what he was confessing to you.

“Is she still lonely?”

“No. Not anymore. She found someone to keep her company.”

“I’m glad. I’m sure they were just as lonely as she was.”

“It's a good thing they found each other then.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

The two of you had been crafted by different artists but in your own way you’d been made for each other. If you hadn't been sure of that before you were certain of it now.

[fastandcarlos]

Soft Moments : ̗̀➛ F1 Reaction

: ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

The smell of something cooking was the perfect thing for Charles to be greeted with as he walked through the front door. His eyes were drawn to you, making yourself busy and blissfully unaware that your partner had walked through the door.

“Hey,” he whispered, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. Your smile grew as you felt Charles rest his chin against your shoulder.

“When do you get home?” You mumbled as a trail of kisses was placed along your neck whilst your hands danced across the kitchen counter keeping everything ticking over.

“Not long,” he hummed, “I missed you today.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle back at Charles, “you saw me five hours ago,” you reminded him, spinning around so that the two of you now stood face to face.

“Five hours too long,” Charles whispered, kissing against your lips gently. “What’s cooking, good looking?”

“Your favourite.”

: ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

A groan came from Max as he walked through the front door to still find you sat at your desk, exactly where he found you sat a few hours ago. Straight away he walked over, taking the pens out of your hands and ignoring your protests.

“You need to rest,” he reminded you, shaking his head as you pouted, exclaiming with your hands to him the work you had remaining.

“I’m busy,” you huffed, but Max defied you, picking you up and sitting you into his lap as he sat in your desk chair, holding both of his hands securely against your waist.

“Not anymore,” he chuckled, “you’re all mine instead.”

Your head shook as Max checked you over, hoping you’d at least tried to look after yourself during the day. “I’m alright,” you whispered, almost reading his mind.

“I know,” he murmured, peppering a kiss against the tip of your nose. “No more work is allowed today, you have to have some time off love.”

“Yes boss.”

: ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

The nod of your head was all that Lando needed as he offloaded about how busy race weekend was, knowing as always you’d understand him perfectly. He was vulnerable with you, comfortable and safe.

“You’re home now,” you whispered, brushing the hair out of Lando’s face. For the first time in days he felt himself relax and begin to settle once again.

“You’re the best,” he murmured as he nuzzled tighter into your hold, allowing his eyes to close and forget who he was and what he did for a moment.

“I didn’t do anything,” you laughed, “I’m just here.”

Lando’s head tilted back to be able to look up at you, “you don’t just do nothing, you do everything, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be an amazing race driver, and a pretty cool boyfriend,” you assured him, offering him yet another comforting smile that Lando always craved from you.

“You’re still the best.”

: ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

The hum of delight that came from Carlos made your heart skip a beat, the two of you were contently tangled in with each other, laid out on the bed together and not wanting to move for the rest of the day.

“Keep doing that,” Carlos murmured as your hands slipped out of his hair momentarily, brushing through the thick strands and curling them round your finger.

“You like it?” You joked, already knowing what Carlos’ answer would be before you even asked the question. “Shall I carry on playing with your hair.”

“You’re not allowed to stop,” Carlos instructed, “never ever.”

The smile that looked up at you made your cheeks blush, Carlos staring sweetly as he always did. “I don’t think I’ll be allowed to do that somehow.”

“I give you permission,” he continued to argue. “Maybe I could tell my team that you playing with my hair will help me win more races.”

“You’re insane Sainz.”

: ̗̀➛ George Russell

Your eyebrows knitted together as George grabbed the other ends of the duvet cover that you were folding, standing proudly with a smile as he silently offered you a helping hand to sort things after watching you struggle for a while.

“I could get used to this,” he suddenly announced as George stepped forwards and brought his corners to yours to start folding the duvet cover up.

“Get used to what?” You responded in confusion, uncertain as to what had suddenly sent your boyfriend into a squishy mess before you.

“Just regular things,” he smiled, “like what proper couples do.”

You struggled to hold back your smile as you folded once again. “I never had you down to be the domesticated kind of boyfriend you know.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” George teased as he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, giving you space to finish the job.

“You’re a mystery sometimes.”

: ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

The feeling of a hand cupping against the side of your face was enough to lull you out of the daydream you’d been having, slowly waking yourself in amongst the comfort of a warm embrace and the faint whispers of your boyfriend.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” Lewis jokingly whispered as he watched your eyes slowly flutter open, relieved to finally be back home again.

“Morning,” you hummed, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. “Did I mention how happy I am to have you back at home and in bed with me?”

“You might’ve mentioned it once or twice,” Lewis chuckled.

You shuffled further into his embrace, “you have no idea how happy my heart is the first day you get home, it’s the best feeling in the world.”

“What about every other day?” He asked, continuing to mess with you. “Do you just get bored of me by about day three and want to send me back?”

“I’d never bore of you.”

: ��̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

You smiled appreciatively across at Daniel as your tears finally began to subside. Your breath was still shaky, heart still racing, but at least you had Daniel by your side to comfort you through it all.

“Works sucks,” he whispered, wrapping a strong grip around your frame. “I’m sorry it’s so tough for you sweetheart, it’s not fair of them to do this.”

“What do I do?” You honestly asked Daniel, praying that somehow he had the solution to how you were going to solve your problems at work.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but I’m going to help you through it.”

Your head rested against Daniel’s chest, “what would I do without you? Even in my worst moments you still manage to somehow make me smile.”

“I guess I’m just a pro,” Daniel sniggered, kissing against the top of your head to provide yet another distraction from what you were going through.

“That you are.”

: ̗̀➛ Logan Sargeant

You flopped down beside Logan on the sofa, straight away it was as if he knew exactly what you needed, opening his arms for you to roll right into, settling against his strong chest and tangling your legs together.

“That bad of a day?” He quizzed, resting his head against the top of your own. “At least you get to come home to me, aren’t you the luckiest?”

“I am,” you sincerely responded, “I’ve been counting down the minutes most of the day until I was able to come home and receive all your cuddles.”

“Aw babe,” Logan smirked, feeling a tad proud of himself.

Your head shook as you heard the smugness in his voice. “Stop trying to ruin the moment, I’m being serious, your cuddles are just the best.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Logan whispered, squeezing you even tighter against his body. “What do you say to just staying here for the rest of the evening?”

“I like the sound of that.”

: ̗̀➛ Lance Stroll

You could feel Lance’s eyes staring across at you as yet another yawn escaped, struggling to keep your eyes open despite the two of you only slipping into bed and settling down a few moments earlier.

“Get some rest,” Lance whispered, tucking your loose strands of hair behind your ears. “I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“But I’ve barely spoken to you,” you sighed softly, “I want to hear all about your day and hear how preparations for the race are going.”

“We’ve got tomorrow,” Lance reminded you, “you’re my priority.”

You smiled appreciatively back at Lance, poking against his chest. “How about a nap? Then you can fill me in on all the details that missed.”

“We can nap,” Lance confirmed, pulling you into his side, “but only because you’re too stubborn to ever listen to what I have to say.”

“I’m just always right.”

 ˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Accidental Confession- Thorin x Reader

Summary: Thorin overhears you confess your feelings about him to his nephews

Word count: 1, 478

Mixing yourself, two dwarf princes and a full barrel of mead was bound to create some chaos. Honestly after an hour of drinking with them you’re surprised that the worst thing you’d done was a failed handstand and a terrible improvised song. Unfortunately however things were going too smooth for too long, and your luck of only slightly embarrassing yourself was running out.

You and the princes were sat in the woods outside of Erebor, all three of you needing an escape from castle that could sometimes feel suffocating. Though you were only visiting your friends, you could tell they needed a break from their uncle, especially Fili as he was next in line and his list of duties were piling up every day. Needing the biggest break out of all three of you, it was no wonder that the embarrassing question came from him.

“Y/N, I have a question.” The blonde dwarf asked, sat upon a rock with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Well fortunately for you, Fili dear, I might just have the answer.” You reply with a cheeky smile of your own as Kili refills your cup.

“Why do you dislike our uncle?” Came Filis oddly sobering question.

This question caused even Kilis face to become serious as both princes stared at you. Although their faces were filled with worry, you couldn’t help the girlish grin that came to your face. At seeing your grin, both princes grew matching grins of their own.

“I don’t dislike your uncle.” You answer, trying hard and failing to hide your smirk.

“Oh really? When he speaks you seem to always walk away and just last night he asked you to dance and you denied him.” Kili now interrogates, a quizzical smile growing on his face.

“It’s not because I don’t like him.” You try to defend yourself sheepishly.

“Is it because you do like him then?” Fili asked you smirking.

“No! Maybe… Look it’s not fair! When he talks that dwarf language…”

“Khuzdul.” Kili quickly corrects.

“Yeh! It’s just really hot… I know he’s your uncle but it’s so hot! And and! The dancing! If I dance with your uncle my tits would be in his face! Which if that happened I’d get so turned on I’d die.” You confessed to your friends, babbling foolishly.

Fili and Kili exchange a look at hearing your confession, before promptly bursting out in laughter. Their laughter so loud that you’re sure people in Erebor could hear it.

“It’s not funny!” You half-laugh and half-shout, trying hard to stay serious and defend yourself, but unfortunately failing.

It wasn’t long until you too joined their laughter, all three of your laughs sounding loudly through the forest.

If any of you had been sober, you might have realised that such laughter had drawn the king under the mountain himself to find your little hiding spot. Seeing you all so intoxicated and in the forest he had half a mind to storm over and tell you all off, but was abruptly stopped at the conversation at hand.

“You should tell uncle how you feel!” Kili announced excitedly.

“No!” You shout.

“Why not?!” Both of your friends seemed to yell in unison.

“Oh yeh what would I say? ‘Hey Thorin, I know you’re the super duper important and serious king, but I think your voice is really sexy and the reason I don’t dance with you is because if your face was in my tits I’d get so horny I’d die! Also you’re really sweet to me and I’d like to hold your hand and bake you nice things and maybe kiss you a little’…” Your confession suddenly turning more sweet and serious.

Realising just how you felt about Thorin, your head fell as you played with your fingers, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and embarrassed.

“Maybe we should head back. It’s getting cold and I think it’s time we all went to bed. We’ll get you something nice to eat and some nice warm furs.” Fili suggests as he takes your hand, knowing your confession was a lot more than just a silly girl being attracted to their uncle.

As both boys held your hand to help you walk, Thorin hid himself behind a tree, not wanting to be noticed. Though he hid, he couldn’t help but stare at you as you left with his nephews. Knowing his feelings were reciprocated suddenly filled him with both relief and fear.

*****

You were surprised to wake up the next morning with only a mild hangover after your night of drinking with your friends. Getting dressed you decided it was a day for comfortable clothes, topped with a big warm cardigan knitted for you by Ori.

As you went to leave your room in search of food you literally ran into the last person you expected.

“Oh! Hello Thorin.” You sheepishly greeted him, slightly stepping back into your room.

“Good morning, y/n. How did you sleep?”

“Fine, thank you. Is there something I can help you with, Thorin?” You nervously ask him, trying hard to keep eye contact with him as you wrap the cardigan around yourself.

“Yes, um- may- may I come in? I’d like to speak with you in private.” He asked as his voice suddenly became more serious.

“Ye-yes, sorry, um, come in.” You anxiously step aside and quickly pull out a chair from your vanity for him to sit on while you sit on the edge of your bed.

Thorin manoeuvres the chair to sit directly in front of you, your knees barely grazing each other. Looking from your hands, to your barely touching knees and into his beautiful blue eyes, your gaze quickly falls back to your hands.

“I-I need to speak with you about last night.” Thorin stutters out.

Looking back into his eyes, you meet him with a quizzical look. The king under the mountain is never nervous and you had not spoken with him at all last night.

“I-I heard what you said to Kili and Fili last night.” He confesses.

Suddenly your eyes go wide as realisation hits you. At hearing this, your blood turns cold, both fear and embarrassment filling both your body and your face.

“Oh no.” You quietly mumble as you anxiously hide your face in your hands.

You were mortified and scrabbling your brain to think of anything to get him away, so you could wallow in shame and embarrassment alone. However before you could think of the words to save you, you felt large warm hands around yours, as Thorin pulled them away from your face.

“Please do not hide from me.” He gently soothes you, as his thumb runs across your fingers.

Your head shoots up at his comforting touch and words. Your eyes filled with panic, dart between your now joined hands and his kind eyes. Trying to look for pity in them but you did not find it.

“This was not how I had imagined telling you this but I suppose after last night I could not ignore my feelings anymore. Y/N, I care for you so deeply and think you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my many years. I feared you would not feel the same as I am not of the race of man and am quite older than you, but from what I heard last night I’m guessing the feeling is some what mutual.” He smiles as he gazes lovingly into your eyes.

You were stuck, too many emotions holding you in place. Confusion, fear, embarrassment and maybe a little bit of love forcing you still and your eyes to never leave Thorins.

“Amrâlimê?” Thorin speaks, worry now in his eyes as he places his large warm hand on your cheek.

You can’t help but close your eyes and hum at the feel of his skin finally against yours. Placing your hand over his, you rub your face further into his hand.

“I suppose you were right about your reaction to me speaking in my native tongue.” Thorin teases you as his face comes closer to yours.

Your eyes fling open as you realise he truly did hear everything you said. Letting out a defiant chuckle, you decide to show him just how much you meant the words you said last night. Grabbing a hold of his coat with both hands, you forcefully pull him into you, as you press your lips passionately against his own.

Thorin moaned into your mouth as your hands desperately pulled at his hair and his squeezed at your hips. You couldn’t get enough of each others touch as you both pulled the other closer.

Finally breaking away, your foreheads rested against each other as you stared into each others eyes.

“Maybe we should try the dancing next.” Thorin teased you with a smirk and a wink.

[furuu]

I looooooooove the way you write shark Sukuna (///▽///) Can I get a part 2 of them interacting again? They both seem like they’re equally curious about each other so maybe they can show each other how they show affection? Thanks! (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

𐔌 . ⋮ The days following your encounter with Sukuna were filled with an almost unbearable curiosity. You couldn't stop thinking about him—the way his presence seemed to fill the entire ocean, the strange gentleness beneath his predatory nature. It was unsettling, but also… intriguing. You hadn’t told anyone about him, about what happened in those waters, and somehow, it felt like your secret. Something between the two of you.

And you were drawn back, once again.

You found yourself diving in the same spot, heart thumping with anticipation as you ventured deeper into the water. Part of you wondered if he’d show himself again. If he was waiting. If he had even been thinking about you. The ocean felt eerily calm, almost as if it was holding its breath along with you.

Then, as if the water itself responded to your thoughts, a familiar shift occurred. A ripple, a pull in the current—and suddenly, Sukuna was there, materializing out of the deep, his massive form effortlessly cutting through the ocean toward you.

“Back so soon?” His voice rumbled through the water, dark and smooth, but there was no mockery this time. His two sets of crimson eyes locked onto you, and you felt the weight of his gaze, his curiosity palpable.

He circled you again, like a shark sizing up its prey, though there was no danger in his movements. It felt more like a dance, a silent communication that neither of you fully understood but were eager to explore.

“I knew you’d come back,” Sukuna murmured, his smirk still in place, but his eyes betrayed a deeper interest. “Humans are always drawn to danger.”

“Maybe it’s not the danger,” you replied, surprising even yourself with the boldness in your voice. Sukuna’s brow raised slightly, amusement flickering in his crimson gaze. He floated in front of you now, his massive body blocking out the light as his tail swayed gently behind him.

“If not the danger,” Sukuna purred, his claws brushing lightly against your arm, “then what?”

You hesitated for a moment, but the truth slipped out before you could stop yourself. “Maybe… it’s you.”

For a brief second, something flickered in Sukuna’s eyes—surprise, maybe? But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual smirk. Still, his touch softened, his fingers trailing gently down your arm in a way that sent shivers through your body.

“You really are a strange little diver,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Humans fear me. They flee. But not you.”

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes narrowing as if he were contemplating something deeper. Then, in a slow, deliberate motion, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Do you even understand what you’re playing with?”

You felt a tremor run through your body at the intimacy of his words, but instead of fear, there was only a strange warmth. The water around you seemed to pulse with his presence, the currents shifting gently as his tail brushed against your legs again, circling you in an almost protective manner.

"I think so,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible in the water.

Sukuna chuckled lowly, a dark, rumbling sound that vibrated through the ocean. “Interesting,” he murmured, his clawed hand coming up to gently cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly tender for a creature of such power.

For a moment, you simply floated there together, the tension between you building in the silence. Then, as if deciding to push the boundaries further, you reached out and lightly touched Sukuna’s arm, your fingers grazing his skin. His eyes snapped to yours, his body stilling for a moment as he watched you closely, as if trying to gauge your intentions.

You smiled softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “How do you show affection?”

The question seemed to catch Sukuna off guard. His brows furrowed slightly, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d overstepped. But then, a low, almost contemplative hum rumbled through his chest, and his gaze softened—just a fraction.

“You want to know how I show affection?” he repeated, his voice quieter now, more serious.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. “I’m curious.”

Sukuna’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. “I’ll show you.”

Without warning, Sukuna’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his massive body. His tail coiled around your legs, holding you in place as his claws lightly grazed your back. But instead of the cold, predatory touch you expected, there was a surprising gentleness in his movements. His chest rumbled softly against you, almost like a purr, as he held you close.

His eyes, all four of them, watched you intently, gauging your reaction. And when you didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch, Sukuna leaned in, his lips brushing lightly against your forehead—a strange, almost tender gesture coming from someone like him.

“This,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl, “is how I show affection.”

You felt your breath hitch at the intimacy of the moment, your heart racing in your chest. Sukuna’s claws continued to trail lightly down your back, his tail tightening just slightly around your legs as if to keep you close. There was a possessiveness in his touch, but it wasn’t suffocating. It was protective, like he was claiming you in some quiet, unspoken way.

And yet, beneath all the power and danger, there was a surprising warmth. Sukuna’s touch, his presence—it wasn’t just about dominance or control. There was something deeper there, something more vulnerable. He was sharing a part of himself with you, something he rarely showed to anyone.

You smiled softly, leaning into his touch, and without thinking, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Sukuna stilled for a moment, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. But then, a low, rumbling chuckle escaped his lips, and his grip on you tightened just a little.

“You’re a bold one,” he murmured, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I like that.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to read your thoughts. Then, with a small, almost reluctant smile, he let out a soft sigh. “You’re different,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“And I’ll be keeping an eye on you, little diver. Don’t stray too far.”

With that, he released you from his hold, his tail slowly unwinding from your legs as he floated back slightly. But before he could swim away, you reached out and gently took his hand, surprising him once again.

“And what about me?” you asked softly. “How do you think I show affection?”

Sukuna tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “You’re the human,” he murmured. “Show me.”

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest as you leaned in, placing a soft, lingering kiss on Sukuna’s cheek. His eyes widened ever so slightly, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something softer in his gaze—something that made your heart race even more.

When you pulled back, Sukuna stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. But then, a slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips, and his eyes gleamed with that same dangerous curiosity.

“Interesting,” he muttered, his voice low and amused. “Very interesting.”

With one final glance, Sukuna turned and swam away, disappearing into the depths of the ocean. But as he vanished from sight, you couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth in your chest—a feeling that maybe, just maybe, you’d see him again.

And the next time, things might be even more interesting .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

[hades-in-bloom]

Scars

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: thinking of Leon’s scars (with a little bit of touching).

warnings & contents: fluff; assumed older Leon (more of RE6 and Vendetta, although I keep using ID! to illustrate); could be age gap, could be none; lots of cuddling; mentions of violence (sorta); the reader could be any gender; no mentions of y/n

a/n: a blurb, because I can. As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

soundtrack: billie eilish — when the party’s over

***

Leon’s figure was resting on top of the bedsheets, his bare back exposed to one’s curious sight with his features relaxed, while he was catching up on hours of sleep he was deprived of this week; thanks to another one of those excruciating missions. You couldn’t hold back a small smile; he looked so peaceful, lying there with disheveled dirty blonde hair and not a glimpse of worry on his face—something you would die to see more often after everything he has endured.

You were doing your best to stay as quiet as humanly possible so you wouldn’t wake him up when your gaze got drawn to the network of scars, interspersed with moles, scattered across his pale skin. There were a couple of fresh bruises flourishing into purple and yellow blobs, too, adding to a rich picture. You winced like you could feel his pain. You’d never get used to seeing him this way—seeing him hurt.

Your touch was lighter than one of a feather when your fingers slid over one of his scars, tracing its shape slowly, with care. This one seemed to be old, fading away over the years, thus one of the rarest ones—as there were many more those anew, coming in different shapes and shades of pink. It didn’t matter, though, how many of them were on Kennedy’s body—you knew them all, keeping the count.

You pulled your hand away in a swift motion as you felt Leon stir. He was still half-asleep when he opened his eyes a crack, his gaze fixed on your features. You looked guilty.

“Hey,” he muttered hoarsely with a faint smile. He didn’t sound irritated—rather exhausted. “Can’t keep your hands off of me, sweetheart?”

You chuckled softly as you eliminated the distance between the two of you, and then rested your head on the edge of his pillow. His hand immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you up.” You pressed your lips against his forehead. You kept your voice barely above the whisper, hoping he’d be able to go back to sleep.

He hummed, “It’s okay,” with his eyes almost shut again, as his mind stayed in the half-place between awakeness and dreams. His thumb caressed your side mindlessly, soothing himself down.

You put your hands on his back in a kind of hug, feeling the bumps of his scars under your fingers.

“You have never told me their stories,” you said quietly, cradling him with your touch.

Leon’s body tensed slightly, his face now hidden in the crook of your neck. His warm and even breathing sent shivers down your spine.

The man became silent for a moment, taking his time before he replied, “I don’t believe these are stories that I should make you listen to.”

He preferred not to bring his work home.

You didn’t insist—you have always respected his choices. You left a kiss on his temple while Leon hugged you tighter.

“I’ll listen to anything you’d be willing to tell me, handsome.”

He smiled; you could feel his lips stretching out on the skin of your neck. It wasn’t a trust issue; Kennedy could tell that much—but he needed time to gather the courage to drag you into his waking nightmare.

“Maybe one day, sweetheart,” Leon sighed deeply, his tone calm as he admitted; his eyes now closed. “Maybe one day.”

You spent the next minutes running fingers through his hair until he drifted back into a blissful sleep.

[potatoplace]

Truthteller

Azriel x Reader

kinktober day 8 | knifeplay

kinktober '24 masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: Your eyes have been drawn to a certain dagger at your mate's hip for weeks now. And maybe your thoughts, as well. What you hadn't expected was for your mate to notice your drifting attentions.

Warnings: knifeplay, cutting a your partner's name into your skin (do NOT do this irl unless you are VERY committed and trusting!!), light smut

Words: ~1.8k

Author's Note: well it's a couple of hours late but it's here! Some fun lil knifeplay Az, and it's a lil fluffy too imo. I like it. I hope you guys do too!

18+ only pls

💙🤍💙🤍💙

For weeks now, your eyes had been drawn to the daggers constantly at Azriel’s hip, lingering over them until Azriel felt your eyes on him, and you looked away with a blush on your cheeks.

Every night before bed when he would take off his knife belt, your eyes tracking his movements.

Tonight was no exception.

Azriel had been teasing you more than usual at family dinner earlier, letting his shadows play under the skirts of your dress. They had trailed up and down your legs, leaving a path of slight cold from your calves to your inner thighs. Az himself had also let his hand rest on your thigh throughout most of the meal, his fingers drumming an entrancing beat into your skin.

By the time the two of you said your goodbyes to his family and returned to your house, you were more than ready to find out why Az had been so insistent on driving you mad with his touch all night.

Azriel opened the door to your shared home, letting you pass through the doorway first before following you, shutting the door and turning the lock.

“Let’s go into the bedroom, hm, doll?” Azriel suggested in a low voice, a hand on your lower back already leading you past the living room and kitchen, through the hallway and into the master bedroom.

You loved when he was like this.

Confident, commanding. Taking control.

“Turn around and sit on the bed, doll,” Azriel told you as he turned to shut the bedroom door.

You did as he asked, settling down on the edge of your plush mating bed, the sapphire bedding rustling beneath you.

Azriel was facing you when you looked up again, and he crossed the distance between the two of you in slow, decisive steps, his wings flaring behind him.

And still, your eyes slipped from his face down to his favorite knife, Truthteller.

It was your favorite, too.

Probably not for any sane reason, but, well, you had never claimed to be fully in your right mind.

One of Az’s fingers lifted your chin so you were looking at his face once more.

“Do you want to tell me what’s on your mind, little mate?”

Your face flushed. You shook your head, his finger still holding your chin.

“Oh? Not going to share those pretty little thoughts with me?” Another slight shake of your head. “How about if I guess, hmm? I want to know what keeps distracting my pretty mate from me,” Azriel said possessively before leaning down to claim your mouth in a kiss.

If he guessed… You supposed that could be an… easier way to admit what you wanted.

“Okay,” you said softly. Azriel smiled down at you, hazel eyes so captivating that you couldn’t look away.

Until Truthteller was raised in front of your face a few seconds later, Az’s smile turning to a satisfied smirk at your widening eyes.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice that my mate’s eyes had drifted from my cock to my dagger, doll?” He asked, twisting the dagger in his scarred hands. “I’d just like to hear you say why, Y/N.”

You bit your lip. If he had already guessed that you’d been fascinated by the dagger, then he had to know the reason why already… Which means that he wants you to say it.

He always had liked pushed you out of your comfort zone in the most pleasurable ways.

And this might prove to be the best one yet.

“I…” You started. “I want you to…” You buried your face in your hands, hiding yourself from his piercing hazel eyes.

Azriel kneeled before you, placing Truthteller on the bed next to you before taking your hands in his and gently prying them away from your face. “Keep going, love, you’re doing great,” he praised, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I want you to use Truthteller on me,” you whispered, finally admitting your most recent obsession. You met Azriel’s eyes, happy to see so much warmth and love within them.

“Such a good girl for me, little mate. How much do you like this dress?” He asked, running his fingers along the sleeve.

It was a beautiful dress, in a dark blue that was nearly black with long, flowing sleeves and a semi low cut neckline, showing off a decent amount of your cleavage.

But the trouble in Azriel’s eyes promised a night worth losing something as replaceable as a dress.

“Not too much,” you replied, biting your lip in anticipation when Az’s mouth curled into a predatory grin, and he grabbed Truthteller from beside you.

“Tell me if you ever need me to stop, doll,” Az said seriously, waiting until you nodded in agreement to move again, standing from his place kneeling on the floor. “Stand up.”

You did as he said, watching with butterflies in your stomach as Az circled you, the cool bite of metal just barely grazing your skin as he tore through the laces of your dress with ease. You breathing hitched when the tip of Truthteller pressed into your lower back just enough for the pinch of metal to register, before Az was circling back to your front.

He cut the dress from between your breasts to just above your pelvis, then pulled the dress off of your body. All you were left in now was your underthings, a pale cream set that had Azriel’s gaze lingering over you, even more appreciative of your body in the delicate lace.

Azriel pushed you back until your knees hit the bed, then tapped your shoulders. You laid down as he requested, your breath hitching when he followed you down.

The two of you shared a soft kiss, tongues dancing together before Az pulled away. He leaned on one arm as he brought the other up to the strap of your bra, using Truthteller to slice through it, repeating the action on the other side.

Then he slid the knife underneath the band of your bra, twisting it so it was resting vertically on your skin, letting the smooth edge of the knife press into your breastbone. You bit your lip as you stared up at him, your hips twitching, ready to chase your pleasure.

He felt it, of course, and rewarded you for your impatience by slicing the remaining fabric on your chest, pulling it away from your body and tossing it to the floor.

Next he moved to your hips, knife making quick work of your panties so that Azriel could pull them away, leaving you bare for his eyes to feast upon.

And his mouth, if he had any say in the matter.

You were glistening in the low light of the bedroom, worked up from the soft glide of Truthteller against your skin and your mate above you, watching you with heavy lidded eyes. You met his gaze, certain that you already looked wrecked from the small amount of stimulation.

“Still feeling good, doll?”

You nodded your head, giving your mate a small smile.

“Good. Now, do you want more of soft brushes of the blade,” he demonstrated, the light press of the blade tickling your skin and leaving a small red mark in its wake. “Or, do you want something more focused? Maybe even have me write something? It’s all up to you, doll.”

The teasing brush of Truthteller against your skin had you squirming beneath him, but you tried to focus, for Az.

“Uhm… both are… both are good,” you said slowly, teasing passes of Truthteller against your stomach distracting you. “I… I’ve thought about, uh, having your…” you hesitated. This was the big part that you were worried about. “Your name on me…”

Azriel’s mouth split into a grin, something you saw so rarely. “You want my name put into your skin, my sweet little mate? Hmm?” He hummed as he leaned in to kiss along the expanse of your neck.

“Mhm, please,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a reassuring kiss.

When your lips parted, Az was looking down at you with such fondness, such love in his eyes that you couldn’t help but smile up at him.

“Where do you want my name, doll?” Az asked softly into your ear as one of his hands drifted across your skin, waiting for you to choose the spot where he would gently carve his name into your flesh. It passed over your breasts, giving them each a soft squeeze before drifting lower, passing over your ribs, stomach, down to the curve of your hips-

“There,” you breathed as his hand passed over the skin of your lower stomach, just above your pelvic area.

“Right here, front and center doll?” You nodded your head vigorously in agreement, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch as Az grabbed Truthteller and readied the tip of the blade against your sensitive skin. “Let me know if it gets to be too much,” he said seriously, waiting for you to nod your understanding before moving the blade even a hair.

And when he did move…

The soft pinch of the knife against your skin, just barely cutting it open was perfection, the small amount of pain pairing wonderfully with the arousal thrumming through your veins.

Az’s careful, steady hands worked the blade into your skin as lightly as he could to get the effect that he knew you were desperate for, by now. Between letters he pressed his lips to the skin of your inner thighs, your hips, just barely skirting around your dripping cunt each time.

You were barely able to keep yourself still by the time he was finishing the last stroke, the ‘L’ in his name, but you managed, reveling in the look of pure approval in your mate’s eyes as he looked you over.

“Look at it, baby,” Az said, helping you sit up so you could inspect the imprint of his name.

And there it was. Delicately carved, with very little blood coming from them. More like deep scratches than true cuts, but the effect had your heart beating faster either way.

“It’s perfect, Thanh you Azzie,” you said softly, pulling his face to yours for a heated kiss. “I love it. And I love you.”

Az smiled at you. “I’m glad you like it, love. Now… were you wanting another treat?” He asked, his eyes darkening. You nodded your head. “Good. Go ahead and lie back, and just enjoy,” Az instructed, a hand on your back making sure that you lowered yourself down slowly.

You kept your hands by your sides, as much as you were dying to wrap them in your mate’s hair.

In the next moment, his mouth had descended upon you, his shadows joining the fun as well and wrapping around your breasts, giving them a squeeze.

You were in for a long night.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff