#losing my MIND thinking about how much these two have in common

[sunnydotjpeg]

jello's voice for loop combined with everything else about them reminded me of a certain someone

[nicoliine]

The day you noticed Lucifer was using his wings to court you.

☆彡 In birds, there is a great variety of nuptial displays at the time of courtship, especially in species that have melodious songs or show very striking plumage.

Little did you know, this would include angels or the king of hell himself.

 

☆ English isn't my first language. Sorry in advance.

☆ The reader is g/n; no pronouns or y/n are used.

 

You were always fond of birds, and you dedicated much of your life to helping preserve endangered species. You studied them, spent countless hours learning about the hundreds of species, a lot of diets and their behaviors.

This didn’t seem to stop once you found yourself in Hell; in fact, once you discovered there were a bunch of sinners with bird-like features, you just seemed content to be there.

When you arrived at the Hazbin hotel, you claimed one of the spare rooms as your personal studio, and after what you have called "the toughest battle in your life," you convinced Alastor to let you have a camera "as long as you never get that frivolous technology box near me."

Husk had to ask you not so politely to stop when you first met. Before you could even take his hand, you had started to ask questions about their wings; sometimes you even wrote on an oh-so-worn notebook of yours; it became a common topic of discussion between the two of you. When you forget he has work to do and start to take multiple pictures of his wings and even try to take one of his wings when he is not looking, Angel starts to think that your bartender friend is about to lose it, and you will end with a scratch or two.

 

Besides that, one could say that your presence in the hotel was appreciated; you could be found watching some funny shows on TV with Angel and never saying no to Vaggie when she asked for a favor. Soon, you started to feel part of the hotel, and the rest of the staff agreed with that.

 ☆◦ •◦☆

Lucifer was nothing like any man you had met in life or hell; he was, to put it simply, an awkward guy, always so silly yet so elegant. He had managed to get you longing for his presence more often than you would like to admit.

You are not sure how you and Lucifer became friends, but having a shared interest in ducks seemed to help. You gave him all kinds of facts about them, and he would step by your room every so often to show you the new rubber duck he was working on. Not that you're complaining, but one of his ducks set your courtains on fire on an occasion.

Charlie says that she is proud of his "social advances,” as she used to call your interactions. Seeing him out of his office more often and having an actual conversation with someone seems to make the princess happy and less worried about her father, and if that someone turns out to be you, it is so much better!

  ☆◦ •◦☆

The first time you noticed this weird behavior of his was the day you two met. You couldn’t help but mention, after his bickering with Alastor over who was Charlie’s father figure, that you found his wings precious. Lucifer, being the prideful man he is, wasted no time on extending his wings only for your delight, a smirk on his face as he saw your eyes wide admiring that part of him; they were so magnificent, you could swear they were shining in the light of the room, and you'd die to see if the feathers were as soft as they seemed.

 

Just a simple touch, please.

 

Before returning his wings to their place, there was a flutter of his wings, so slow that there was no way someone could notice.

But you weren't just someone; you knew it. What a coincidence! You could recap an article about some birds courtship.

The second time you saw it, you were in your room minding your own business. He came to you with a smile, but your eyes were looking past him, his wings on full display as he greeted you. There, his wings started flutter again, now lasting more than the last time. Now there is no way it was just a coincidence. “My eyes are up here, darling,” he said, that smirk on his face turning into a pout as you were not paying him enough attention. You just shake your head, focus on the man before you, returning your full attention to him, and the pout on his lips dissapears immediately as your eyes are on him.

 

  ☆◦ •◦☆

You are getting crazy; every time you get a glimpse of him, you find his wings moving in an oh-so-familiar way that you could swear it was a courtship dance, every time bolder than before.

That is when you decided to confront him, getting just a chuckle from him. It made you think maybe it was just your imagination, and you finally lost your mind.

 

While sitting on the hotel balcony, Lucifer was telling you one of his ideas for this new rubber duck. He said it would be the best one he would work on so far, even though you doubted that. Then you stopped listening, your eyes fixated on his wings. Every time he looked at you, they would flutter not so subtly, distracting you from everything around you. Your head rested on your palm, almost feeling bad for not listening to his rambling.

 

"Luci, you're courting me." It was supposed to be a question, but by the way the king of hell stopped his rambling and, looking at you with wide eyes, you found that maybe it was not.

"And what would make you think that?" He said mocking you, he also rested his head in one of their hands.

 

"Your wings, the way you move them," you pointed to his wings; they stopped his movements when you mentioned it; he just chuckled, then started to laugh. Was he laughing at you? It made you want to hide yourself from him; was it your imagination? No way.

 

"So you finally notice," he then said. Once his laugh was gone, he adjusted himself on his seat. Now, with both of his hands holding his face and looking at you with a smirk, his wings started to flutter once more. "I thought it would take you less time, may I be honest"

 

"Actually, I noticed it long ago; I thought it was just my—" You felt the air leaving your lungs once he got on his feet and moved closer to you. "...Just my imagination." You were not strange to his proximity, but this time he just looked so imponent, wings on full display and fluttering around. Now it was definitely a courtship dance, and you were on the receiving end.

 

"Now, what do you think?" He hovered over you who still sitting, a hand resting on the back of your seat, taking one of your hands on his and kissing your knuckles. The kiss lasted longer than you thought was the average time for one, and even then he didn’t let go of your hand. "Was my dance enough to impress you, darling?" Now, looking into his eyes, you could only see adoration, awaiting your response.

 

You couldn't speak; you can't imagine the king of hell pulling up something like this for you.

 

"My dear, please talk to me," he pleaded, a sigh leaving his lips as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel his warm breath in your skin, burning like hellfire.

 

"It was," you said, Lucifer now turning his face to look at you. You took his face in your hands and moved him closer, he gave you an inquisitive look but with no intention to move from your touch. "I should have mentioned it earlier; it was quite impressive." You smiled, and he did the same.

 

Now, how long you two kissed, you also don't remember; what you remember, however, is how he held you against him as if you were just about to disappear right then, and that when you finally got to touch his wings, you were proved wrong.

His feathers were much softer than you have imagined.

This idea came to me yesterday when my dad showed me a reel of a lady bird who epically ignored the male who was dancing to her, I felt so bad and immediately thought about Lucifer.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated 💞

[venmondiese]

SUBTLE LOVE, DARING WORDS

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

-ˋˏsummary: Aemond is in no hurry to take a wife, yet once he realizes that he doesn't value what he has until he might lose it, he takes action. (based on THIS request!)

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader.

✧word count: 3.1k

✧tags: fluff and comfort, aemond is BAD at feelings, reader doesn't really admit anything either, slight? slowburn?, overall fluffy!!, this is really vague about in which year happens, lol

The first time he met you it was in the library.

He had his mind on the whole commotion at court, the tournament which he had refused to entertain, much to his mother's dislike because of his position as a royal. To him, it seems like a foolery, as if he was willing to participate in making himself a fool such as Mushroom. 

When he came to the library, intending to search for a book to comfort himself, he found a lady leaning down one of the staircases, where there were lots of books stacked only for maesters, with him as an exception… but not a lady surely, less one that seemed to be looking for something below. He was astonished, for many reasons. 

He watched her big, puffy dress, in rich red velvet and gold details. It was definitely a Westerlands style, so he was more confused as to why she was in this part of the library, only for maesters, and… well, him. How did the guards allow her to enter? How did she do it so confidently, as if he couldn’t make her life hell for it?

“Ehem” he scoffs, as if trying to get her away. The least of his worries was having a lady on the forbidden library corner… for now. “Get out. You are in a forbidden part”

“I am aware” your voice comes from down the staircase you had even moved some books! That made him slightly… annoyed.  As you move your head out to see the prince above you, and you make a movement with your head as if doing a courtesy. “My prince”

He was not amused, at all. You had green eyes, and the most golden hair he had seen in ages. The small lions on your dress allowed him to know who you were: A Lannister. And he definitely never wanted to deal with any of your kin. 

“And I said-”

“My cat is down there” you say, as if he cared. 

“Okay. Take it out of here”

“I can’t” you say simply, watching him with a grin. “She seems to be in labour. I didn’t know she was pregnant at all…”

He has many questions, and he frowns at your reasoning. He would take the cat and throw it out himself if he had to. 

“It is your cat, just take it away”

“Well, my father gave her to me two weeks ago!” You make a face, almost whining about it. Of course he could know which Lannister is your father. “I didn’t know she was pregnant, and she is still getting used to me. She will scratch me, more if I get closer to her babies”

“A scratch won’t kill you”

“Just sit” you say softly, watching the cat and sitting on the ground to wait. “You can even keep one of the baby cats”

“My grandsire has brought enough cats already” Aemond says, walking to grab some wine for him and the lady. He wasn't impolite to be rude to a lady, much less one with your status and beauty. “They come to my bed when I am sleeping, and I wake up to cats in my chest”

“Well, I think they are cute” You say, taking the cup of wine, thanking him as you sip the wine. “Cats are felines, like lions. So I think having a cat is reasonable, better than a lion”

“Don’t you want one?”

“I have one back at home” you say shrugging, smiling widely. “He is called Brightroar”  

Of course you named it like the ancient weapon of Lannisters. “And this one?” 

“I wanted to call it Brightroar second, but it turned out to be a she. So she is just called Gemma” 

He can’t deny that he is amused, watching you being so nonchalant about it all, as if you owned the world. He raises an eyebrow as he has a slight smirk, as he sits near. 

“Gemma” he scoffs. “A very…”

“Lannister name” you say smugly. 

“Hm. I was going to say… common, perhaps” he adds.

“You would love for Lannisters to be commoners, my prince. Yet you seem to rely on our gold” you notice, raising one eyebrow. So you weren’t a silly lady, he realises, you had the wits.

“Hmm… Our gold seems a bit excessive, my lady. It is your father who is the head of your house” he reminds you, leaning back on his chair. 

You smile softly. He thinks you are Cerelle, probably. Mostly because you know Cerelle was still a kid and never been presented to the royal court.

“Mine or not, I still am more entitled to it.”

“I have a dragon.” He adds, as if this was a debate between you both. He was actually enjoying it. He had totally the wrong impression of you and he… was enjoying it. “The biggest dragon”

“Yeah, and?” 

“And I could burn your silly little castle” he shrugs, taking a dip of wine. 

“No, you could not” 

“I’m pretty sure I can”

“No, actually. I know you haven’t gone out of these four walls and this... city, my prince, but I remind you out of the kindness of my heart: Casterly Rock is literally… a rock” 

Aemond rolls his good eye, yet his smirk doesn’t leave his face. As if your cat was forgotten, he keeps on his point. 

“As if has stopped a dragon before” Aemond says simply. “Because I am as kind I shall remind you of Harrenhal, perhaps?” 

“And I shall remind you that Harrenhal is a castle made of rocks.” She shrugs softly. “Not exactly a rock. Casterly Rock is literally a castle inside a rock.”

“Some parts are out of it”

“Not the part where we keep our gold, not really”

Aemond squints his eye, and you look back at him. You amused him, looking like a defiant cat that got away with their mischief. It was fun to see, and he could hear the wails of your cat. You didn’t seem worried, neither was he. Perhaps that was the circle of life, and you knew your cat would manage. 

As you speak of such trivial matters, waiting for your cat to end her labours, he couldn’t help but admire your wits, as much as your beauty. Your velvet gown, of a strong red and some gold details did wonders with your appearance, and your brains only made you brighter. 

“What are you doing here?” It was Tyland Lannister, coming with a Maester behind, probably who sneaked your position in a forbidden library. “You know ladies can’t be here” 

“Father... My cat is giving birth” You say, frowning as if it was the most obvious thing. 

“My prince” Tyland makes a courtesy to him, a bit rigid and tense. You had heard how the prince would often terrorise your father, making him do the silliest things as if that amused him. Your uncle Jason often had a laugh about it. 

“I was not aware your daughter was…” Aemond says, turning his gaze to you “All grown up”

He knew about you, but your father talked about you as if you were a babe. You were practically his own age, for what he could tell.

“Yes, my little lion is certainly… grown” Tyland agrees, his hand on your hair as he spoke. “Come on; let’s not bother the prince…”

“It is not a bother” Aemond cuts him, serving himself more wine. “She is rather amusing”

“How dare you-!” You say, offended as you come to your defence.

“Sweetie” Your father tries to calm you, with a tense smile as if telling you to shut up.

“I am not a jester” 

“No one said you were” Aemond says, amused as he smirks. 

“You are such a…”

“Apologise” your father murmurs. 

“But fath-”

“You heard me”

“I am sorry, my prince” You say mockingly, and he smirks, even more amused.

Tyland seemed as if he was about to have a stroke, because he had enough things on his plate, and he didn’t need the prince making his life at the small council harder. 

Aemond sees Gemma, bringing her cats to show you how they were, all of them bloody, and squirmy, a bit pink and small. You petted them as you didn’t mind the blood.

“Come on. Servants will need to clean the blood” Tyland says, making a notion for you to stand up “Grab the kittens and let’s go”

“Ew, no. They are all bloody” You say frowning. “You take them” 

How lady-like. He thinks, as you didn't seem to mind the blood two seconds ago.

Even with your persistence, your father took the small and weak kittens, and your cat kept meowing at him as if he would kill him. 

“How did your cat even come here to give birth?” Your father asks as he tries to not get Gemma to kill him.

“I have no idea, father…” You say, and Aemond sees you standing up. 

He sees the pile of books in your hands, behind your back as you walk behind your father. You smart wench, he thinks, as you had just successfully stolen forbidden books by setting up your cat to give birth here. You even had him fooled. No one else notices, since your dress was puffy enough, and he noticed it by shamelessly trying to see your ass. 

You watch him, and press your index finger in your lips, as you walk behind your father and his complaints about your cat. 

“Do not bother the prince, darling” Tyland says once you get out of the library.

“I think he is quite handsome” you admit, when you know the prince won’t hear you. You father watches you shrug, walking forward him, not allowing him to see your hands. He sighs, as Gemma starts meowing loudly. 

While the rest of your interactions have been brief, he notices that you are more of a troublemaker than you let yourself look. You had that mischievous smirk always, arching your eyebrows in such a way when you had a plan. 

Yet, you were sweet. He notices how you play with your cousins, Cerelle, braiding her hair, and with Loreon, the small heir to Casterly Rock, a kid that enjoyed running around, and you often entertained his antics. 

“And there will be so many ladies, Aemond. In this time, we need alliances…” His mother says, as they walked through the castle. He hears the step of Cole behind them, guarding them, and probably hearing how his mother tried to make him a lovebird.

“It does not interest me”

“It doesn’t have to interest you. It is a matter of duty-”

“I won’t marry, mother.” Aemond shrugs, as if that was the way of his life. “Not yet. I have things ahead of me yet” 

“You inscribed on the tourney?” The queen inquires, curious. 

“No” he says shrugging, slyly trying to seek for you in the royal box, to no avail. “I am not in a hurry.”

He greeted noble ladies, of course. As he was seated on the royal box, bored and waiting, he could see girl after girl doing courtesy and smiling in a flirty way to him. It did not amuse him, and he was polite enough, almost rude. 

“She is trying really hard, you know” A voice joins his thoughts. It is you, sitting by the empty chair by his side, where Aegon is supposed to be, but he never is on time.

“Who isn’t?” He rolls his eye.

“I didn’t know you were so in demand. High valued. Sought after” you list, as you fan yourself as it was indeed a hot day. 

“Very amusing” He murmurs.

“Come on, my prince. There must be a lady who catches your attention.” 

“I am not blind” he says, rolling his good eye. “Of course there are women I find beautiful”

“Oh my... Having feelings now, congratulations, the Seven indeed are capable of the most... unthinkable miracles”

“You just woke up being so funny” he says, looking at you, raising his eyebrow, yet the small way his lips curved allowed you to know he was amused.

“I am always funny, my prince” you say watching the crowd get settled, squinting your eyes due to the sun. “My cats are good, thanks for asking. Gemma is quite the mother, even if she tried to eat one of them.”

"How... vivid." He says, raising his eyebrows in slight disgust.

"I saved them. Since they are four, I named them: Elia, Joy, Alyssa and Teora"

"And what if one of those silly cats was to be a male?" he asks, as if seeing a flaw in your cat-naming thing.

"Pff, none of them will be. I know it. And if they are, I won't change the names"

He remains quiet, surprised by how bold and petulant you could be. It was amusing to him, and he enjoyed talking to you more than he cared to admit.

“You stole from the library.” he reminds you.

“I have no idea what you are about” you say, still looking at the crowd, smiling softly. The red of your dress made your gold hair bright even more. “Ladies do not read such matters”

“Yeah, right. You are unlike any lady”

“Quite the contrary” you finally turn to see him “I am just like any other lady” you says, smiling. "It just happens that I am friends with the prince, so I am allowed to speak freely"

"Who said..." He says, opening his mouth and turning his face to you, a bit impressed by your silliness "How come you think... you suppose that we are friends?"

"Since you have neither sneaked about the time at the library, or told me to shut up and leave you alone, it is a logical conclusion, if we have in mind your previous reputation to anyone else." You say smiling. "And do not worry, if you do not consider me as such, doesn't matter, because I do and I appreciate you even if you hate me"

"You are..." He scoffs, grinning like a fool "Unbelievable"

"I know. One of my many charms. That and being a matchmaker. I love it. It is wonderful to make couples at court, and more if they end up together, being all happy and..."

“Huh.” He hums, thinking of how odd you were. “Talking about the wonders of a married life”

“I didn’t say that. I merely stated that… marriage isn’t the worst. I intend to find a husband very soon as well. I would very much like to be a wife”

“I shall pray for the poor soul who calls you wife” He murmurs as he looks at the field below, where the knights were preparing, yet you hear his grumbles. 

“And I shall pray to see prince Aemond besotted for a lady” you say teasingly, standing up, not before doing a small courtesy and leave to sit by your father, who had just arrived, frowning a bit as to why you were with prince Aemond.

The tournament does not bore him at all. He is very into the way the fight develops, and he takes mental notes when he sees some weaknesses in the participants. He regrets, just a bit, not joining, because he thinks he could have won. 

He sees you, on the seats below him, jumping in excitement as the fight develops. You are into it very much, clapping and screaming as any commoner does outside the royal box. It was improper, but it was… cute. 

He can see the rest, clapping politely, not overly excited yet proper for the occasion. You were unlike the rest, yet at the same time, you were just like any lady. It amazed him, and he did not understand.

He soon realises that he is not the only one that has you in mind, when the winner of the tournament comes closer to the stands, riding triumphantly in circles while the audience cheers him on, the crown of the Queen of Love and Beauty on his lance.

“The Winner, Ser Dale Dondarrion shall find his Queen of Love and Beauty”

He hesitates for some moments, he thinks he shall name his niece Jaehaera to win the favour of the royal house, like his ancestor once did to little princess Daenerys at the early reign of King Jaehaerys. 

Yet his smile faints when he sees that the queen of beauty’s laurel falls into your lap. 

“Lady Lannister, I hope I am deserving of dedicating my victory for you, and shall your reign be full of joy, even if lasting one night”

You take the wreath of flowers, almost jumping in sight and squealing some thanks as Tyland accommodates the crown onto your braided hair. Your crowning came with an ovation full of applause, from the box and from the commoners… but him. 

It was an odd feeling, stirring something in him, as he watches your cheeks pink from the compliments of all, and most of all; having a suitor. Being named queen of love and beauty was not anything like a dull compliment of court merely because it was proper. It was being publicly courted, and often something many ladies wished, because there was no better feeling than being shown off to everyone. 

He was quiet the rest of the day. Humming when ladies talked to him, in hopes to gain his attention and be courted; when Aegon mocked him; when Helaena placed one of her bugs in his lap, which Maelor ended up squeezing on his grip; when his mother presented him a lady of a high castle with expensive clothes and a sweet behaviour, pure, and devoted. He paid little attention to it all.

It was when your reign was coming to an end that he asks for Tyland to come to the empty throne room. He was watching the throne, carefully inspecting it, as he calculated of his next words. He was being irrational, clearly driven by his emotions and desperation rather than the logically he usually had. 

“My prince” 

Tyland was no stranger to the formalities of court, yet he never let himself be intimidated by lords that tried to impose themselves. He was the second son, yet he had established a name for himself and earned respect in his position; there was nothing for him to feel belittled about

Yet intimidation comes natural with prince Aemond around. 

He has the impression that his one eye is wide open, and the smirk that naturally was on his lip was one of amusement in the suffering of the rest. Always stoic, never doing things out of impulsivity... Which was even worse. His hands behind his back, as he remained as still as a statue.

It did not frighten him, but he knew Aemond was as cold as unforgiving. And slicing his head won’t make the prince feel regret.

“Lord Tyland” Aemond greets him softly. 

A silence follows, as Tyland feels his hand sweating slightly. “An idea for the small council?” He tries to guess. “I am sure it can wait, my prince, I should be with my daughter, since it’s her day…”

“Exactly. That’s what I wanted to speak about”

Tyland is a smart man, and he quickly realises the problem.

“I know she can be presumptuous and slightly spoiled, my prince” He starts, feeling Aemond’s eye on him as he turns to face him. “She takes the title too seriously, when it isn’t, Mushroom was just hyping her up, and she is just still a girl, and I apologise on her behalf for trying to impose herself as Queen, when her reign only lasts for a day, and she really is…”

“I want to marry her” Aemond tells Tyland simply. “Her reign shall not end. She can be a princess.”

Lannisters usually aren’t left speechless. They had never been known for their silence, yet here he is, silent.

“Ser Dondarrion made the same proposal hours earlier, my prince, and I…”

“And you will allow your daughter to marry a Ser instead of a prince? I have already told you. I want to be her husband” He insists, his tone not certainly soft as he loses patience. His soul craves you. He needs to be yours. He can’t let you go away. “She is smart and she has the wits. She is spoiled, and she loves to have her way. She is kind, sweet, and funny. And I want to be her husband and give her anything she asks for. Is that so hard to get?”

What wakes up Queen Alicent is her son with a stoic expression, not even entering her rooms to speak.

“I was wrong” He says simply “I shall marry Lady Lannister, mother. I am in a hurry. So I ask you to prepare the wedding. Good night and Seven blessings”

Almost a year later is when your father comes closer to your chambers once again, seeing how your ladies in waiting do a courtesy out of politeness, and he watches prince Aemond at your door, waiting for him.

“Came as fast as I could…”

“Hm” Aemond says, as he walks toward the open doors.

Tyland could have his distance with Prince Aemond, but he couldn’t deny how good a husband he was. He wasn’t a man of many emotions, in his perspective, yet he was a devoted husband. He danced as many times you wanted in the ceremony, sighing every time you made him stand up from his seat. He didn’t wear the eye patch on your wedding, just as you requested.

“That is the worst idea ever, darling” He said to you, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Well, he will have to if he wants to marry me”

And so he did. When you wanted to travel to Volantis, he arranged it all. When you wanted for him to meet Brightroar, he took Vhagar and rode into the Westerlands with you. 

“Was it all well?”

“Everyone in the castle heard a lion roar” Aemond says walking past the maesters. 

You seemed so little, in Tyland’s eyes, all sweaty and tired, like the time you got so sick he was afraid you would die. He had brought the very best maesters he could find, just to assure you were safe. 

“It is a girl” It’s the first thing you say to your father, smiling a bit. “A healthy baby”

Tyland leans, to kiss your forehead, as you extend your babe to him. It was a small thing, yet chubby and all pink still. She had small, silver hair, very thin, but present. He could see the little gold spot, as if gold hair would grow on some of her hair. It was indeed curious, and yet he couldn’t think she was anything but perfect.

“A bit squirmy” He comments, as the baby yawns, opening her mouth as she whines slightly. 

As he tries to coo the small thing, he watches how Aegon sits by your side, at the edge of the bed, passing his hand behind your shoulders to caress your shoulder. You lean against him a bit, and say.

“It is a pain to breastfeed, why didn’t you tell me?”

He chuckles a bit awkwardly, he had never gotten used to your bluntness and honesty. “I never knew anything about that”

“Well, it is. I thought babies knew how to do it, but she takes a long time” You say, looking up at Aemond.

“She is still very little, my love” Aemond reminds you. 

“I know, but what if I am doing it wrongly? Mothers usually know those things, and I find myself clueless. Aunt Joanna says it comes naturally, but she has successfully raised kids who have survived childhood.” You say, looking at Aemond. “So has your mother. How comes I don’t know?”

“Because you are a mother from little more than a day.” Aemond reminds you “And they had help. So you do. You have me, of course. You have wet nurses, maids, maesters, and my own mother and of course, you have the brightest mind. We’ll do”

“Did you know Aemond cried, father?” You tell him, and he finally looks away from his little granddaughter. 

He blinks, a bit confused, watching the prince. “Oh, did he?” 

“Yeah, it was rather cute” Aemond rolls his eye amused, as your hand was on his knee. 

“It’s the only natural response.” Tyland says, his finger caressing the skin of the sleeping babe, who squirmed a bit at the feeling, like a cat. “She is delightful. Have you named her?”

Aemond looks at you, amused, expecting you to answer the question. You had the smug grin on your face, and nodded. “We had a deal. If she had golden hair, she would have a Targaryen name. If she had silver hair, she would have a Lannister name”

“And?”

“Well, she is rather… peculiar. She had silver hair, but you can see how some gold hair has grown too? It is the oddest of things, but the Maesters said it was natural. You know how cats have different hair colours?”

“Don’t compare her to a cat” Tyland makes a face, softly rocking her in his arms.

“She has both silver and gold.” Aemond says, as if reminding you to keep on trail. 

“Ah, yes. Since it’s most silver, we agreed on something that you will find the brightest things, father.” You look at your husband and then your father. “Gaemma. It’s a bit… weird to say it, but with time it shall be delightful”

Tyland looks at you, and he blinks. “Like your cat?”

“Well, thanks to her I and Aemond met.” You remind him. “She deserves some credit” You add.

“I like it” he murmurs. “Don’t make your mama lose her mind” He says, as the baby yawn, extending her arms. 

“She will, after all she is her mother’s daughter” Aemond says, taking her back, and he adds “You should have seen how loud she wailed once she came.”

“I am here, world. Hear me roar” you say, as if trying to translate Gaemma’s cries. You smile widely, and Tyland knows that even if you were always going to be his little girl, you were in the best hands, and that Aemond adored the ground you walked on. Even if you name their child after your cat. 

[ohtobeleah]

Something that goes without saying is how uncertain Logan really is about sleeping in the same space as another person. Sure, he'll commit to the fun beforehand….The foreplay, the sex, the highs.

But the inevitable act of sleeping beside someone, terrifies him.

We see it in Origin, we see it in Days of Future Past. Sometimes while Logan is sleeping, his claws come out when he feels under duress. Nightmares are a common occurrence for this man, not a night goes by where he isn't waking in the dead of night to the ghost of his past.

And I'd like to think of all the Logans running around the multiverse, that the Worst!Logan has surely been through some things. He's never experienced true rest. Not until he met you.

“I'll sleep on the couch.” Its common at the beginning of whatever the dynamic between the two of you is. Logan ends up back at your cafe, or in your living-room, bathroom, kitchen or bed—but he never stays beside you for longer than a few minutes after. Not because he doesn't crave that intimacy or true human connection, but because the idea of losing you to his own mutation truly scares the ever-living fuck out of him.

But one night, you catch him off-guard. So off guard that Logan doesn't even have a counter proposal ready.

“Ill join you,” You beam, padding down the hallway with your blanket and pillow wrapped in your arms. “Somethings bothing you and with friends like me and Wade, that shits gonna come up eventually,” You ramble. As you sit beside Logan on the lounge he slept on more often than his own bed, he catches a glimpse of a few noticeable scars on your back. Scars where his claws had once accidentally taken over in an otherwise romantic moment between the two of you. “So, get talking pops.”

“Don't call me pops.” Logan sighs as he opens his body up for you to snuggle up against him. “It's nothing I can't handle, didn't anyone ever tell you not to stick your nose where it doesn't belong?”

“Are you trying to tell me that I don't belong here?” You counter quickly, playing Logan’s logic against himself. “Me? Resident of this timeline? Doesn't belong right here next to you?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Logan smiles all the while trying to keep his brooding man mask on. But with you he feels ever atom of his being igniting with desire and unconditional love. “I worry I'll hurt you, while I'm sleeping,” Logan explains as you listen to his heartbeat inside his chest. Snuggled on the lounge in your apartment. “You don't know how much that thought terrifies me.”

“Hmm,” You hum in response. “Perhaps the question you should be asking yourself Lo, is what if the nightmares, what if the fear stops, when you allow yourself to rest with someone you love?” It was a bold word to use, and even though it was rarely, if ever used, there wasn't another word in the English language to describe how Logan felt about you. Or how you felt about him.

And its a thought that's never crossed Logans mind before. He frowns, thinking it over in the late-night silence. You fall asleep there, right with your head on Logans chest as he tru thinks.

Only to wake up in a tangled mess of sheets, with Logan snorning next to you as the early morning sun kisses his golden, aging skin. Its the first night in years he hasn't woken in screaming terror.

“Tell me told you so and I'll turn you into a skewer.” Logan mumbles as you pepper him with kisses across his exposed back.

“I think I'll take my chances with you, Lo,” You chuckle to yourself. “I'll make you some coffee.”

@a-reader-and-a-writer Canon Ilya universe content

Ilya

[ace-turned-confused]

sickening desire

joel masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader summary: you and your stepdad don't have much in common, but you always try to keep things friendly. back home for college break, he's not making it very easy. word count: 2,7k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a skirt, big ol' age gap (reader is nineteen), food mention, joel is big & beefy, stepcest, cheating, fucked morals all round, pet names, joel's a disgusting dirty perv (i'm so serious), smut, grinding, mentions of m & f masturbation, unprotected p in v, cockwarming, 1 spank, creampie, dirty talk, sprinkle of daddy kink, praise kink, panty kink a/n: written for @beefrobeefcal's MARRIED JOEL SITS ON YOU prompt - i got to witness the birth of this on discord, and thought how can i make this cute idea deranged instead, so here we are. idk how all this happened. this is stepcest, you have been warned. if it's not your thing then pls scroll on, no hard feelings in here <3 not beta'd

After weeks of phone calls, texts and endless hounding from your mother, you caved and decided to come home for your college break. She was missing you like crazy, and apparently you had aunts and cousins who were just dying to see you after so long, no doubt ready to bombard you with questions about the life of a college girl as if you were the first of the kind.

So, you came home to your mom and her new-ish husband, Joel Miller. You can count the number of times you’ve met him on one hand, one of those occasions being their wedding. You’re not sure how they make it work, but then opposites do attract…

Marriage has been good to Joel, his mental health and financial stability have improved, and overall he seems a happier person — not that you could tell from looking at him, with a permanent scowl etched on his face. The only ‘drawback’ seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline — his jeans now too tight around his thighs, the seams visibly strained, and his tummy poking out past his belt. They no doubt add to his eternal pissed-off facade, but he’s far too stubborn to admit he needs to buy new ones.

Your mom reminds him, often, how much he’s filled out in recent times, and judging by the bitterness in her voice, she clearly doesn’t approve. You’re not sure why she disapproves, but you’d never admit that.

From what you know, he’s neither an overly good nor a bad guy, he’s just… Joel, and the two of you have nothing to talk about, so you keep your distance out of courtesy. At least, you try to.

Since you’ve been home, you’ve caught him staring a few times but pin it down to aged eyesight. Most days he greets you in the kitchen with a husky ‘mornin’ sweetpea’, and makes a point of brushing up against you, half hard and warm in his threadbare sweatpants. He’ll place a hand on the small of your back when he stands beside you, pinky wandering down to toy with your waistband.

You cover up the way your breath catches and stop yourself from clenching your legs together every time — either he doesn’t have a grasp on personal space, or he’s doing this on purpose. The way he watches you move around once he’s sat down says all you need to know. You try not to think about it.

-

You’re flicking between channels one night when the front door clicks open, the heavy stomp of workboots echoing down the passage and into the room. Joel waltzes in, dumping his keys and without a word, sits directly onto you.

“What the fuck?”

“This is my chair, sweetpea. Not my fault you’re in it.”

You try pushing him off you, a losing battle with the extra kilos he’s put on since tying the knot with your mom. He mumbles something to you, his words lost underneath the TV and your strained grunting.

“What?” You huff at him, growing more and more agitated.

“I asked, you gettin’ off on this like you did sittin’ on my lap?”

Your mind swirls as you try to pinpoint what he means. It’s just when you’re about to give him lip and ask him what the fuck he’s on about, that you remember — and suddenly you wish the world would just swallow you whole.

-

During Sunday’s roast lunch, you were surrounded by extended family, filling in the blanks and avoiding the painfully personal questions; Joel spent the day with his standard disgruntled look and your mom was overzealous in her storytelling — everything and everyone just how you remembered.

Everyone broke off into smaller bubbles after lunch, and you stared at Joel as he unbuckled his belt and slumped back on your aunt’s couch — he stared right back at you, head cocked to one side as he weaselled his way into your mind with just a slight smirk and a wink, large hand resting teasingly over his crotch. You left the room, intentionally distancing yourself from him the rest of the day.

It was late afternoon by the time you begrudgingly hugged each family member goodbye and settled in the backseat next to Joel, some extras tagging along for the free ride back to your neighbourhood. With your headphones in and all other passengers occupied, you tried to nap the rest of the way home and regenerate the energy siphoned from you throughout the day. You had no complaints, up until now.

You sat up when your mom stopped off at a different house with just over half the trip still to go. Her heart of gold meant she’d offered a lift home to too many people for her one car, so being the youngest, she suggested you just squash up or sit on someone's lap… Which is fine when you’re nine, not nineteen.

And not just anyone offered up a place, no, Joel lifted his hand in the air and said you could sit on him — with no other way to get home, you pinched your eyes and cringed, but did it anyway. You were fine for the first 15 or so minutes until the road became uneven, and you realised just how fucked this whole thing was — when you first sat down on Joel, he wasn’t hard. You took a breath to try to steady yourself without drawing extra attention.

It was just a… natural response? God, that doesn’t make it any better.

You shifted forward, tried to reposition your weight over his legs and knees and told him you were just getting stiff — wrong fucking choice of words as you became even warmer than before.

Your mom stopped off to refuel along the way, everyone climbing out of the car to stretch, and you made a beeline for the bathroom, splashing yourself with water to cool down.

Joel watched as you came back to the car and you tried not to stare when you saw he was fully hard in his jeans; you felt mortified when you saw the damp patch you’d left on the fabric.

Back on Joel’s lap for the rest of the trip, everyone else was asleep with your mom still driving, radio turned up and blissfully unaware. You’d be able to forget about this, lock the memory away and move on if you hadn’t been so fucking turned on.

What’s worse, you making your stepdad hard, or him making you wet?

-

Joel snuck his hands onto your hips and you tensed, caught off guard by his touch.

“Keep ya steady,” he muttered, fingers digging into your skin.

Holding onto the seat in front for balance, he felt you were trying to lift your weight off him. He tightened his grip on you, slowly pulling you down onto him completely. There was no going back — he was fully hard by now, so he may as well get the most from this.

He pulled you to lean into his chest, his voice quiet in your ear, “S’alright sweetpea, almost there.”

Your head was turned to watch your mom the whole time, and Joel should have cared, but he just couldn’t, not when you were all warm and sweet on top of him. You stayed taut the entire trip home, Joel’s hands on your hips and bulge pressed deliciously against your core. He shifted you atop him every so often, and you desperately wanted to hate how good it felt.

When you finally arrived home, you clambered out of the car and left everyone to fend for themselves, darting for your room. You were about to close the door when you caught Joel staring again, the front of his jeans damp and darkened from where you were perched. You unpacked your clothes, sorted out your washing, and even took a shower but the incessant ache was still there. You finally gave in and shoved your hand between your legs.

-

A loud advert plays on the TV and brings you back into reality, Joel still firmly on top of you.

“Don’t act all fuckin’ innocent on me now, I know those panties of yours were gettin’ all wet with you grindin’ down on me like that.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were real quick to run off to your room that night, you had to stick your fingers up in that cunt of yours to get yourself off?”

“Fuck you, Joel.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d love to. I know you dream of gettin’ fucked real good by your daddy, huh?” He twists to look at you, the motion pushing more of his weight onto you. “No point in arguin’ with me, I heard you that night… I’ve heard you on a lot of nights since you been home, always callin’ out for me.”

You don’t talk back as you keep pushing to get him off of you — he has enough leverage just from hearing you at night, he doesn’t also need to know that you are enjoying having his weight on you like this, unable to fight back or do anything about it.

“Now you got nothin’ to say?” He lifts himself slightly and gestures for you to get up, grabbing your wrist before you can walk away. “Did I say I was done talkin’?”

He faces you towards the TV, standing you between his now spread legs. Skating his hands up the back of your legs, goosebumps rise on your skin as he moves higher and higher, lifting the hem of your skirt as he goes. He kneads the swell of your ass, sliding his thumbs under the edge of your panties.

“These the ones you had on that day?”

“Huh?”

“Barely touched you and you already can’t think straight. Are these the panties you had on when you sat on my lap?”

“Uh, no? I don’t know, Joel.”

He pulls your panties up to expose more of your skin, smacking a hand down on the side of your ass. You jolt forward at the impact, a fresh wave of arousal seeping out between your folds.

“‘S a real shame, I bet they were soaked right through, huh? Soakin’ ‘em right now, the way you’re droolin’ for me. You wanna know somethin’, sweetpea?” You don’t bother answering, lost in the feeling of finally having his hands on you. “Never used to enjoy doin’ laundry before you came to visit, but now… Well, now I get to see all the pretty panties you have. And I always know when you’ve been thinkin’ of me, they get extra dirty.”

He reaches up to grip your hip, his other hand twisting to push in between your legs. Your hips jerk as he traces his fingers along your damp panties, pushing up into you against the fabric.

“Seems like you actually were gettin’ off on havin’ me on top of you…” You crane your neck at the clink of his belt buckle and watch as he drags his zipper down. He stares up at you the whole time. “But now you’re gonna sit on me again.”

Pulling you backwards by your waist, he keeps your skirt lifted and hooks a finger into the gusset of your panties, tugging them aside. He runs his fingers through your folds, already sticky with need. You clench your legs when he pulls away again, and he sighs, frantic and satisfied; turning around again you see he’s taken his cock in his hand, thick and hard, coating himself in your slick.

He guides you down onto him and a gasp slips from you as he drags the head of his cock through you to line himself up. Your gasps turn to a strangled moan as he pulls you to sit, sheathing himself completely — it’s a delicious stretch without any prep, and again you find yourself wishing you could hate this, hate him for doing this.

He lets your skirt drop down again as you settle on his lap, and picks up the TV remote with one hand, the other a vice grip on your waist. He flips through the channels, ignoring the fact you’re sitting firmly on him.

“What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like? We’re watchin’ TV, sweetpea. And you’re gonna be a good girl for me and sit still. With all the starin’ and whinin’ you do, this was only a matter of time.”

“And all the staring you do?”

“As if you don’t fuckin’ love it.” You clench around him at his words and he sniggers at you. “You’re real tight, sweetheart. Now sit still.”

-

You’re not sure how long you sit like this — Joel staring deadpan at the TV with his hands wrapped around your waist, and you aching for relief as you hold back from squirming on top of him. The initial sting has subsided, replaced now with a steady and simmering burn as you leak around him.

Your breathing deepens as you fight with yourself — do stay composed and try to win, or give in and let Joel make you feel good?

“Won’t lie, sweetpea, I’m impressed. Didn’t think you had it in you.” His low voice draws you from your inner conflict. “‘Specially now that you got me in you.”

You can practically hear the shit-eating grin on his face, and he punctuates himself with a lift of his hips, rolling you on him. Fuck it, just give in. Whimpering as he repeats the motion over and over, it’s the most he’s done the entire night.

“You wanna know somethin’ else?” He keeps grinding your hips against him, the stretch of his cock and the strain of your panties against your clit bringing you closer and closer. “Dunno if you’ve ever noticed your panties go missing? S’cause I took ‘em, sweetpea. I take your pretty panties and I use ‘em to jerk off, dirty or clean, doesn’t matter to me, s’long as they’re yours. I smell ‘em, I wrap ‘em around my cock, I picture you wearin’ ‘em when I come all over ‘em.”

At some point in his rambling, he’d snaked a hand around to your front and under your skirt, and shoved his fingers in your panties to circle your clit. Just like a lot of things lately, you’re trying to hate how much you love it.

“That’s it sweetpea, come all over your daddy.”

Your legs tense, trapping his hand as he works you through your high, murmuring praises in your ear as you writhe on top of him — unfortunately for you, it’s the hardest you’ve ever come. He doesn’t give you time to think, wrapping his arms around you to lift you up and bundling your arms behind your back.

“Stay there, ‘m not done with you.”

Steadying yourself by leaning on his jean-covered thighs, he starts pistoning up into you, over and over as he uses you for his own high. Squeezing your hips, he pulls you down to match his thrusts, the room filled with his grunting and your whining and the obscene squelch from between your legs each time he fills you. It’s not long before he starts shuddering underneath you, pulling you down hard as he spills into you with a groan.

He holds you, almost affectionately in his arms as he relaxes, warm breath being puffed into your neck as he nuzzles against you and his hands smoothing over your clothes. Turning to look at him, his lips are just parted and his pupils are blown wide. You try to discern the emotion behind his eyes, surging forward to press your lips to his instead, afraid of what the truth might be.

It’s soft, it’s sweet, it’s almost pure, the way he kisses you back, the hairs of his beard and moustache prickling your skin as a hand comes up to cradle your face, the other still held around your waist. You pull back from him, and he has that usual deviant glint in his eyes when he opens them again.

He stands you in front of him, just like you were before this, and he pulls your panties back over your core. He waits and watches as his spend starts oozing out of you and gets absorbed into the already damp cotton.

“Definitely gonna make good use of these ones, sweetpea.” He winks as he stands up, tucking his softening cock back into his jeans, still sticky from both you and himself. “Next time you can wear ‘em, just like I told you.”

tagging some friendos from the wip wednesday snippets, Imk if you'd like to be taken off <3

@luxurychristmaspudding @whocaresstillthelouvre @milla-frenchy @clawdee @burntheedges

@greenwitchfromthewoods @yopossum @evolnoomym @mountainsandmayhem @bubble-pop-eclectic

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[ellecdc]

okay so I just wanted to start by saying I love you're moonwater stories so much.

Ive been thinking about this like paring ig for a bit and your recent moonwater story when r gets home from girls night just made me think of it more so if you're interested id love for you to do it.

Basically its like poly moonwater plus Barty ive been calling it moonwaterkiller in my head (idk if its already a ship or already has a name but I haven't been able to find anything) but basically I feel like r and Barty would be like a chaotic duo and reg and rem would just be like wtf a lot idk... I just think it has some potential and I just love your writing so fucking much.

(I also just love how you write Barty)

so if you're interested I think it would be cool

much love :)

I love the way your mind works babes. thanks for your request! (it's almost two am where I am so please forgive any awkward sentences or spelling mistakes). also, if I didn't completely lose everyone with my DeathStar fics - this may very well do it. && this was written with the help of our fabulous @unstablereader

poly!moonwater x chaotic fem!reader + Barty Crouch Junior

Regulus didn’t know whether to be concerned or slightly aroused at the slightly deranged way that Remus was stalking the halls in search of you and Barty. 

You and Regulus had both at one point or another been in a friends-with-benefits situation with Barty (albeit separately) during your time in school, before you and Regulus went and fell in love with a Gryffindor. 

Regulus still wasn’t quite over the humiliation; both of falling in love and falling in love with a Gryffindor.

Of course, you and Regulus both stayed friends with Barty; Regulus mostly because he couldn’t shake him (ignoring the fact that Regulus really was quite fond of his maniacal friend), and you because the two of you really were sort of two sides of the same hyperactive galleon. 

And though Remus (and sometimes Regulus) liked to pretend that yours and Barty’s friendship caused them grief, they couldn’t deny how much they valued Barty’s loyalty and devotion to his friends; specifically you. 

Regulus’ new favourite thing was easily Remus’ new found appreciation for Barty. 

Up until this point, Barty had been his notoriously flirty and salacious self when it came to the likes of Remus, who wasn’t yet accustomed to Barty’s unique…personality.

However, once Remus realised the history between his two partners and the other Slytherin boy, he quickly came to appreciate the kind of pull Barty could have on people.

So, Remus had started flirting back.

Barty hated it.

Regulus loved it.

You started keeping track of the number of times Remus reduced Barty to a blushing and stuttering mess in your notebook. 

Barty hated that too.

It was nearing curfew and Remus and Regulus hadn’t seen you all afternoon. 

Usually that was fine, considering you were a bit of a free spirit. What was concerning, however, was that they hadn’t seen Barty either.

Regulus watched as Remus checked the stupid map that his brother and their friends had created when his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What? Don’t tell me they’re in the middle of the Black Lake again?” Regulus asked quickly, moving to stand over Remus’ shoulder to peer at the map.

“Again?”

“Don’t ask.” Regulus muttered.

“But…doesn’t Barty not know how to swim?”

“I said don’t ask.”

Seeming to know better, Remus turned back and pointed towards the Ravenclaw common room on the map. “It says they’re up in Ravenclaw tower?”

“For fuck’s sake.” Regulus muttered, dragging a hand over his face.

“How’d two Slytherin’s manage to get into Ravenclaw tower?” Remus asked bemusedly, earning him an unimpressed glare from Regulus. 

“Remus, I love you, but that was perhaps the dumbest question you’ve ever asked me.”

Remus rolled his eyes as he closed the map and tucked it back into his trunk.

“Come on, we might be able to catch up to Pandora on her way up and have her help us in.” 

They had indeed caught up to Pandora, and Pandora had indeed helped them in, though it seemed to be for naught. 

“I thought your stupid map said they were here.” Regulus muttered as he surveyed the common room, unable to spot a single lick of green and silver.

“It’s not stupid and they are in here.” Remus muttered back, moving to stand in the dead centre of the room. 

“How do you know they’re here if you can’t see them?”

Remus glared at Regulus before looking around to ensure no one could hear them. “I can smell them.” He whispered.

Well Regulus just didn’t know what good these wolfy senses were if they were still out two Slytherin’s. 

“Shit.” Regulus heard whispered suddenly as a quill fell from the air and landed beside his foot.

Remus and Regulus both looked up to see you and Barty casually lounging in the chandelier above them.

“Are you sodding kidding me!?” Regulus shouted.

“I think our cover’s been blown.” You said simply to Barty as if you didn’t have two fuming and fretting boyfriends standing nearly forty feet give or take below you.

“Pity.” Barty responded as he peered down. “This was a nice refuge.”

“How’d you even get up there?” Remus cried, pacing like he was getting ready to catch you should you fall.

“Magic.” Barty taunted from above.

“Junior, so help me gods if that witch falls I-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Lupin. I resent the insinuation that I would ever let anything happen to our sweet angel baby.” Barty bit back immediately.

“Okay, okay. Fair enough.” Remus acquiesced as if he were negotiating a hostage situation. “Why don’t you both just come down here, nice and slow, okay?”

Both you and Barty leaned forward to look down at the two boys, causing the chandelier to swing precariously.

“Fucking hells! Stop moving!” Remus shrieked, causing the attention of the few Ravenclaws sitting in the common room to look over.

“Such a worrier.” Barty muttered as he stood and started manoeuvring himself to the edge of the chandelier - you following him over and causing the chandelier to tip to a nearly 90 degree angle. 

“I’m going to be sick, I’m actually going to throw up right here.” Regulus muttered mostly to himself whilst Remus tried to stand directly underneath you lest you need to be caught. 

To Remus and Regulus’ absolute horror, Barty launched himself away from the chandelier, grabbing at the billowy banners hanging from the ceiling causing the chandelier to swing away from him like a pendulum. 

“JUNIOR!” Remus shouted, causing Barty to momentarily look shamefaced as he looked below him. 

As the chandelier swung towards the opposite wall, you too launched yourself at one of the billowy banners hanging from the ceiling and began monkey climbing down them.

“Can you make sure she doesn’t fall, please.” Remus barked at Regulus as he made his way towards Barty.

Barty let out a high pitched screech and began hastily making his way down the wall. “Run Treasure! Save yourself!” He shouted dramatically.

You turned quickly at that and saw Regulus making his way to you.

You let out a surprised squeak and hurried down, and before Regulus realised what you were doing, you had used your wand to open one of the windows and were shimmying out.

“Oi! What the-” but before Regulus could even shove his torso out the window, you’d managed to shift into your animagus form - a mink, which Regulus felt was very fitting considering what a sodding cheeky minx you were being right now - and began scaling your way down the side of the building.

Regulus was interrupted by the sound of a squeal - Remus’ squeal - and turned to see Remus hanging halfway out of the window in much the same fashion that Regulus had been.

Unlike Regulus, however, Remus had been successful in his capture of Barty and had him hanging from the tallest tower at Hogwarts by one of his arms.

“Junior! Are you trying to sodding kill me!?” Remus barked angrily at him, trying to pull Barty up without any help from Barty himself.

Barty looked up at Remus with all the innocence he could muster (read: none) and winked. 

“Catch me if you can, Mr. Wolf.”

And Barty shrunk into his own animagus form - an osprey - and let out a cry before swooping down to pick up something that looked suspiciously like a mink from the eaves of one of the lower towers and took off towards the grounds. 

“Fucking son of a bitch.” Remus cursed as he tried catching his breath, still sitting half out of the Ravenclaw window. “Why do we put up with those two?”

Regulus shrugged with all the nonchalance he could muster. “‘Cause they’re cute?”

Remus sighed and hit his head against the windowsill. “They’re so sodding lucky that they are…”

“Come on.” Regulus said, offering Remus a hand and helping him out of the window. “Unfortunately, I know exactly where they went.”

Barty loved nothing more than the feeling of his feet sinking into the sediment of the Black Lake below his feet. He also loved the feeling of being near you, his Treasure. He also loved the idea of two handsome men frantically searching for you, and him by proxy.

All this to say, Barty was having a really nice night.

“Junior!”

Barty’s face morphed into a Cheshire cat grin as he turned towards the voice of the man and his boyfriend as they stormed towards the waters edge.

“Well hello, Lupin. How nice of you to join us; care for a dip?”

“Get out of the water.” Regulus drawled in a bored tone.

“Why would I do such a thing? The water’s lovely, I’m in wonderful company, and we’re going to feed the Giant Squid.” He argued.

“Barty.” Remus barked with all the severity he could manage. “You don’t know how to swim.”

Barty scoffed indignantly. “Yeah, well…neither can Reggie!”

“That’s why I’m standing on the shore you absolute bell-end.” Regulus countered quickly.

Remus turned his furious gaze into a bemused one as he took in Regulus. “Do you really not know how to swim either?”

“None of us can!” You shouted from your disturbingly deeper place within the lake as the gentle waves nearly lapped against your skirt.

“Oh, for the love of- you know what? This summer, everyone’s getting swimming lessons.” Remus proclaimed.

“Ou, does that mean I get to see you in your swim trunks, Lupin?” Barty called.

Remus, without missing a beat, started towards Barty, walking into the lake in his shoes and all. “You could see me right now, in less, for free, Junior. You only had to ask.”

Barty let out a screech and tried running towards you, albeit in slow motion on account of the water’s resistance. “Y/N! Treasure! Help! Make him stop!”

“No can do, bubs.” You called back in monotone, still throwing chunks of bread towards the middle of the Lake in hopes of eliciting the company of one Giant Squid. 

“Dove, you’re going to catch a cold; get out of the water.” Remus called to you, pants soaked up to his knees after giving up on chasing Barty in the water.

“We’re trying to make friends!” You whined.

“You cannot make friends with a squid, amour. He will eat you.” Regulus explained from the shore. 

“He wouldn’t eat his friend.” You scoffed. 

“Dove.” Remus barked again.

“I want to see the the big water kitty!” You whined again, turning towards the boys and offering the most pathetic pout you could muster.

Regulus scoffed from his place, still dry on the shore, Remus let out a pained sigh, and Barty all but skipped towards you. 

“A valiant death it will be!” He cheered before he felt the fabric of his jumper being summoned by an accio, dragging him unceremoniously through the water towards Remus.

“No! Ah! AH! STRANGER DANGER. STRANGER DANGER!” He shrieked as Remus threw him over his shoulder.

“Okay, well, now you’re just showing off, Lupin.” He muttered, crossing his arm petulantly as Remus held his free hand out to you.

“Dove, please? Come inside with me?”

You looked distressed at this and moved obediently towards Remus. “Are you mad at me?” You asked timidly.

Barty could actually feel Remus’ body soften beneath him as he allowed some of his tension to dissipate. “Of course not, dovey. I love you.”

You leaned over and pecked a kiss to the corner of his mouth before turning into your animagus mink and swimming to the shore, crawling up Regulus’ pant leg (who admonished you in faux contempt for ruining his trousers), and allowed him to carry you back to the castle. 

Barty was feeling petulant about the whole matter of being chased and chastised so decided then that he was going to force Remus to carry him all the way back to the castle in silence.

Unfortunately for Barty, he hated silence.

He was at least proud he’d made it to the dungeons before giving up on his vow of silence.

“You’re really not upset with her?” Barty asked quietly from his current prison. He could feel Remus’ head tilt in confusion, though his steps never faltered.

“Of course not?” He responded as a question.

“Hmmm.” Barty said, racking his brain for something to upset or fluster this man.

“Oh! What about me having slept with both your boyfriend and your girlfriend?”

“What about it?” Remus asked plainly. 

“Well…aren’t you upset about that?”

Remus scoffed and adjusted his grip on Barty, hand’s migrating none too innocently up the back of his thighs. “Junior. The only thing I’m upset about is that you haven’t slept with all three of us. I don’t like feeling left out, you know?”

Barty made a strangled sound as he struggled in Remus’ grip to no avail, causing you and Regulus to chuckle from a few strides ahead as you all stepped into the Slytherin common room.

“We told you he was smooth, Barty.” You chuckled.

“You should hear him in bed.” Regulus taunted, reaching over to pinch Barty’s arse, causing him to yelp and start cursing at him.

Remus relented and put Barty down, who immediately made for Regulus’ throat.

“Easy, Junior.” Remus chuckled, pulling him back by the shoulder. “You wanna keep Reg around, don’t you?”

Barty harrumphed and crossed his arms indignantly.

“We’d like to keep you around.” Remus continued.

Barty grumbled again and let out a quiet. “Fine.”

Remus beamed at him, which was very alarming if you asked Barty, as they stepped into his and Regulus’ shared dorm; Rosier and Avery were already asleep in their beds with their curtains drawn.

“Yeah? You’ll let us keep you?” Remus asked.

“I said fine, Lupin.” He bit back.

“Great. So we’re in a relationship then.” He explained simply, causing Barty to level him with a severe glare. “How dare you, Lupin. Never say such vile things to me again.” He spat before storming towards the boy’s bathroom.

Regulus groaned and grabbed his own toiletries before making his way to the washroom behind him. “I’ll go make sure he doesn’t try to drown himself in the shower again.”

Remus shook his head and changed into his pyjamas before climbing into Regulus’ bed and pulling you towards him.

“So, explain this to me, Dove. Why is Barty the way he is?”

You snorted a laugh and turned to face him. “You’re going to have to be way more specific, love.”

Remus chuckled and ran his hands up and down your back. “He likes Reg. He loves you. He seems sweet on me. We invite him to be ours and he accepts - but runs when we make it mean something?”

You smiled up at your boyfriend and booped his nose with a perfectly manicured finger - which Remus found very confusing considering you spend your spare time scaling the rafters of grand ceilings and enticing Giant Squids from their hiding places. “Barty doesn’t understand, Rem. He wouldn’t know love if it punched him right in the face.”

Remus could feel his brows furrow and he pulled you in tighter to his chest. “Dove…love doesn’t punch you in the face?”

Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say as you rolled your eyes in exasperation and threw your head back onto the pillow. “You see? That’s the kind of thing someone who grew up loved would know.”

It’s not that Remus ever really forgot to worry about you per se, but he sometimes really worried about you Purebloods. 

At some point in the night, you had apparently decided Remus and Regulus’ bed was too hot and moved to Barty’s. Remus would have been slightly more petulant about the matter if he hadn’t thought you looked absolutely precious with Barty resting his head on your chest.

He looked so innocent in his sleep.

Sleep clearly didn’t know him very well.

Remus was shocked when the four of you entered the Great Hall for breakfast and Barty actually followed you three to the Gryffindor table. Though Remus was trying to play it cool, he couldn’t help but feel a flutter of hope surge within him at what that might mean for the three four of you.

Remus was just about to bite into his toast when a sultry voice sounded from behind Barty.

“Hello, Bartemus.” Amelia Bones sing-songed as she trailed a finger up Barty’s arm.

His brows furrowed almost comically from above the rim of his coffee cup before he slowly lowered it and turned to consider the Hufflepuff.

“Bones. Can I help you?” He asked, punctuating the word help as he plucked her fingers from his being between his two fingers as if he’d found something really quite disgusting on his person.

“I was thinking, you could help me, perhaps tonight?”

Barty turned to look at her incredulously.

“Help with what, Amelia? I’m really quite busy.” He spat, gesturing wildly to his cup of coffee. 

“An orgasm or two? Gods, you’re pissy in the mornings.”

Barty scoffed, sounding completely scandalised as he clutched at non-existent pearls adorning his neck. “I am sitting here with my beloveds, Amelia. For shame. You see this lot? I’m theirs, capiche?” 

Amelia looked bemusedly at the group of you before shaking her head in confusion. “Whatever you say, Junior.”

She moseyed on away, and Barty turned back towards his cup of coffee. “The gall of some people, honestly.” He said in exasperation, downing the rest of his still hot coffee and standing unceremoniously.

“Well, I best be off. Things to fuck up, people to scare. Tah-tah.” He called, pressing a quick kiss to your hair as he left the Great Hall.

Suddenly, realisation dawned on Remus.

“Ah, I see. So no to a relationship, but he is ours.”

You and Regulus chorused a hum of acknowledgement. 

“That’s just how Barty operates. You’ll get used to it.” You explained, still not looking up from the Daily Prophet you had been reading all this time.

Remus didn’t mind getting used to that; not if it meant he managed to get everything he wanted.

[hauntingofhouses]

uhhh thinkin about how mizu and taigen's relationship was described as "this meeting of the minds, this meeting of the swords, that they could not share with anybody else" in one of the netflix articles about the show

and i'm going crazy because YEAH they're both equally invested about swords and fighting in a way that nobody else in their lives are. and that's just. so important considering we're talking about mizu, who sees her sword as her own soul.

and it's not JUST mizu who's obsessed with fighting. taigen is too. cuz like after their duel at the shindo dojo, as taigen is examining his bald spot in the mirror where mizu cut off his hair, he literally interrupts his own turmoil over losing his honour, just to express his awe, openly admiring mizu's skill DESPITE the fact that mizu just beat his ass and stripped his honour and status from him

then in the next episode, mizu says a very similar line when she examines the cut flower that fowler had pinned to heiji shindo's robe.

this was also such a sudden thing to notice in the middle of their conversation (my interpretation of this is that it hints to fowler's own skills with a blade, and gives mizu information about her enemy being a formidable opponent), but the fact that mizu had such a keen eye and managed to hone in on such a tiny detail from like a foot or two away is interesting because it shows us just how attentive mizu is, especially when it comes to blades and anything to do with them

to mizu (when she's not spiralling and agonising over her own self-hatred and the way the world treats her), swords are not a mere tool for revenge, but an art form which she is fascinated by and loves and admires. we see this from time to time, during rare moments of respite, like when she admires the duel in the beginning of ep4

mizu also takes to heart all the teachings from her years training, while taigen is interestingly less strict about them, basically disregarding some of those teachings as mere pedantry, or even if he doesn't actually really think so, he at least tells mizu as much in his attempt to comfort her after her sword breaks

but that doesn't mean he doesn't care for the more formal aspects of his training at all. because in ep3 when he says this

this line about mount sumeru is not talking about the literal mountain in front of them, but is a recitation of a line from the lotus sutra, which is among the mahayana sutras that they learned as part of their spiritual training, as zen buddhism forms a lot of the basis for samurai doctrines and philosophy. the sutra given more emphasis in the show is the heart sutra that mizu writes on her body in ep7 during her rite of rebirth

so taigen saying this line, as i see it, is a way to bond with mizu, or at least make conversation over their shared knowledge, as we see him await a reaction as soon as he says this. but mizu gives him none, and he looks disappointed/annoyed/frustrated or what have you as he watches her walk off without a word

also we see a little more of their shared knowledge of swordsmanship in the last episode when it's clear that mizu has been training ringo in sword fighting techniques

and later taigen recognises it instantly

they're both nerds about swords and fighting!!! they both respect each other's skills!!!

GOD i really hope in future episodes they get to bond some more over their shared passion and common training and just samurai camaraderie in general!!! mizu clearly loves the artistry of sword fighting so much, she deserves to have a confidant who shares that with her, someone she can talk openly about these things to!!!

because like remember when mikio was telling her about the naginata, she looked soooo uwu in love!!! admiring her husband as he showed off the weapon and told her the benefits of using it!!! believing at the time that she'd found a match who she could openly share her love of martial arts with!! she was having so much fun sparring him too. everyone says fighting is part of her love language and YES it IS!!!

except the difference is that mikio—due to, among other things, their large age difference and subsequent gap in life experience—believes he is mizu's teacher, rather than her equal. this is the role he's readily taken throughout their marriage, from teaching her how to throw a knife to cut down fruit (not like she needed that particular lesson), to teaching her equestrian skills.

meanwhile taigen and mizu were both kids growing up poor in the same backwater fishing village, which means that they are and always have been PEERS. and this becomes even more pronounced once taigen is stripped of his giant ego and unlearns his prejudice, allowing them both to fully respect each other and view each other as equals

which is again why it frustrates taigen when mizu admits later in this scene that she basically doesn't care about saving the shogun. like he gets mad because it upends his initial belief in their shared goals and aligned values, believing them both to be samurai of equal standing and honour.

ALSO i'd like to add, that though mizu is the better swordsman as we see her win all their brawls and matches, she doesn't surpass him by that much, and mizu knows this.

these words coming from mizu is such a huge compliment all things considered, acknowledging that he was strong enough to deserve fighting her, because shortly before this mizu was just about to say "no one has given me much of a challenge" only for taigen to enter the scene and, well, challenge her.

now combine this with her saying that chiaki's broken blade suits him well, giving to him HER sword which SHE made AND won, as a surety, promising him a duel that he "deserves". it's proof that even though she finds taigen an annoying brat and oftentimes an obstacle to her mission for revenge, she DOES respect him and does value his skills.

IN CONCLUSION nobody else is on their level, nobody else shares their love of swordsmanship and that is such an important factor to their bond and the way they relate to each other. i rest my case your honour

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Eleven.

previous chapter (10). series masterlist. the playlist.

chapter synopsis - There’s no denying it anymore - not that you’d want to. You and Bucky fit together in every sense of the word.

pairing - dads bestfriend!bucky barnes x female reader - soulmate au

warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. harassment, and then conversations surrounding past incidents of harassment. bucky calls reader a whore (not viciously).

word count - 5.3k

authors note - this is a long one!! I got a bit carried away with the smut, but honestly… it was a little overdue. I needed bucky and honey to get a little down and dirty sometime soon, and there’s no time like the present. as always - your love and support is invaluable to me, and i’d be nowhere without it. love you <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

masterlist. inbox.

Your hips sway gently to the music that plays as you watch your own reflection in the mirror. Sweeping a makeup brush across your cheeks, you laugh as Bucky presses open mouthed kisses to your bare shoulder.

“Getting ready takes ten times longer when you’re here, you know.”

Your soulmate laughs, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling your back into his chest as he sways with you.

“You love it,” he murmurs into your ear. “You got a lifetime of this, honey. Get used to it.”

“God help me,” you giggle, squealing as he pinches your side. “I’m never going to get anywhere on time ever again, am I?”

“Worth it though.”

He winks at you in the mirror, and you can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. Spinning in his arms, you lean up to press a lingering kiss to his lips.

“Luckily for you, Lacie is the worst person at being on time. I actually don’t think she’s been punctual to anything, ever. You have to tell her six if you want her to be there at eight.”

“I like her more every time you tell another story.”

“I feel like I should warn you.”

“Uh oh.”

You fight back the smile threatening to take over your face.

“She means well. She’s got a heart of gold, and good intentions always. She’s just… blunt, sometimes. She doesn’t mess around, or avoid the tough conversations. She’ll always tell you exactly how it is. And sometimes that can come across as rudeness, or that she’s a little… prickly? But she’s not, I promise.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I get it. And I trust your judgement, always. You’re a good judge of character - I’ve never doubted that. She loves you and she wants to protect you, and so do I. I think you’ll find we have a lot more in common than you think.”

“I hope so. This is kind of a huge deal for me. And the more I think about it, the more worried I get.”

“Worried about what, honey?”

Bucky leans back against your dresser, using his hands on your hips to keep you against his front. You tilt into his body, resting your head on his chest.

“That you won’t like each other, or something. Which is stupid, I know. But the two of you mean so much to me, and I can’t lose either of you, and I just…”

“You’re spiralling.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Yeah.”

“We’re gonna have a fun night, okay? If you put too much pressure on it, it’ll crumble under its own weight. Just breathe, baby. It’s dinner and drinks. Nothing you haven’t done before.”

“Dinner and drinks.”

“Exactly. Thankfully, actually, because I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving.”

“You know me so well.”

He chuckles as he leans down to press a sweet kiss to your lips. It ruins what was left of your lip gloss, but you don’t mind.

“It’s us against the world, remember? That includes double dates.”

You shake your head, scoffing as you break away to pull your shoes onto your feet. Taking a step back, you check your reflection in the mirror, not missing the way Bucky’s eyes follow the shape of your body all the way down and back up again.

“Quit that.”

“Quit what?”

“That, Barnes.”

“What, honey girl?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

You grab your purse and your jacket, giving him a once over to make sure he’s ready.

“We need to go. We actually should have left about ten minutes ago, but someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.”

“You want an encore?”

He lurches forward, fingers digging into your sides as you thrash in his hold. Your knees buckle as the tickling continues, punching at his biceps to get him to stop. You finally break away, panting as you keep him at arms length.

“Pull that shit again and I will kill you, James. You hear me?”

“I’m so scared,” he jokes, laughing infectiously.

You grin as you push him out of the door, shaking your head as you do it.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The restaurant Lacie has picked is perfect.

It’s a place the two of you have been to many times - intimate but not too quiet. It’s all candlelight and real wood and big, open windows. You can hear the sound of chatter and laughter from down the street, warm and inviting.

A wave of nostalgia overcomes you as you stand on the sidewalk and wait for your best friend. You spent your 21st birthday here with Lacie, getting drunk on sweet cherry cocktails and dipping pieces of fresh bread in olive oil to soak up the alcohol. The entire night consisted of giggling and gossiping, until you’d wobbled home in your high heels, hands tightly clasped together just like when you were kids. You both fell asleep tangled in Lacie’s pink ruffled bedsheets, cuddled up and wearing your old matching Looney Tunes pyjamas.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?” Bucky asks, swinging an arm around your shoulders.

“Just thinking about all the nights me and Lacie have spent here. We’d always order the Cocktail of the Day, no matter what it was. Sometimes it was the best thing we’d ever drank, sometimes it was so vile we’d down it in one to get it over with.”

He laughs all deep and hearty, the sound vibrating through you where you’re pressed into his side. You’re looking down the street when you hear a shout from the opposite direction.

“Is that my bestie and her soulmate I see? Looking hot as ever?”

“Yeah, baby!”

You start walking towards her voice, grinning as you go. She holds out her arms, bracing herself when you run into them.

Lacie hugs you like she hasn’t seen you in years - and honestly, it kind of feels like it. She squeezes you as tightly as she can, cutting off your oxygen supply. You don’t mind one bit, squeezing her back just as tightly.

You hook your chin over her shoulder to see Bucky and Cameron shaking each other’s hands, going through first meeting formalities. Breaking away from Lacie, you pull her soulmate into a friendly hug that he reciprocates eagerly.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” he smiles, linking his hand with Lacie’s as if he’s scared to be apart from her for too long.

“I’ve heard so much about you!” you repeat, leaning into the warmth of Bucky’s hand on the small of your back.

“It’s true, she has. Probably too much,” Lacie laughs, guiding you all to the hostess at the front door.

You’re seated outside, on the terrace with a gorgeous view of the coastline. It’s breezy but not windy, warm but not hot. It’s perfect. The sun is starting to begin its slow descent, and the orange glow lights up Bucky like he’s a heavenly being, some sort of celestial creature. It’s hard to read the drinks menu when all you want to do is stare at your soulmate for hours on end.

“Babe… shall we get a cocktail of the day?”

“You remembered!”

“Of course I did,” your best friend giggles, kicking your shin under the table. “Remember that one that was full of rose petals, and we kept accidentally eating them?”

“Or the one with the sour sugar on the rim? Must have been the most sour thing I’ve ever tried.”

“This isn’t filling me with hope,” Cameron chuckles, setting down his menu to put his trust in Lacie anyway.

The waitress brings over four pink cocktails in rocks glasses, popping straws in them when she reaches the table.

“Cherry and lemon,” she informs you. “It’s delicious.”

She’s right. It’s definitely one of the, if not the best cocktail you’ve ever had in this place - a million times better than the rose petal one. When you’ve all ordered your food, conversation turns to the elephant in the room. Soulmates.

“So you guys were strangers, right?” Bucky asks the two people across from you.

They both instantly light up, ecstatic to be able to tell their story.

“Complete strangers. We’d never met each other in our lives. I walked into the gym as usual, and there he was. All gorgeous and tanned and tattooed and muscled.”

They interlink their fingers, beaming at each other.

“I could see it all instantly,” Cameron takes over. “Living together, marriage, kids, the rest of our lives. It was like a vision, this prediction of what’s to come on a big screen in my mind.”

He leans in to kiss Lacie, all tender and so full of love. Anyone within a fifty mile radius can feel their connection.

“So, Lacie said you guys already knew each other?”

You knew this line of questioning would happen sooner or later, but you didn’t realise just how nervous it’d make you feel. Bucky senses your anxiety instantly, wrapping his fingers around yours under the table. His thumb rubs gentle circles into the back of your hand, the familiar and comforting motion calming you down easily.

“Uh, yeah. We’d known each other for a few years. He’s my dad’s best friend.”

“Oh, shit. I mean Lacie explained back when you told her, but that’s so… complicated. How did your parents take it?”

“We… don’t know,” Bucky explains. “We haven’t exactly had that conversation yet.”

“But you guys have been soulmates for like two years, right?”

“It’s been complicated, like you said,” you pick up. “I wasn’t home for a lot of it, I was back in California for work. And we tried to tell them, but my Dad got sick, and then it turns out that they actually already knew. So, maybe in hindsight, complicated is actually an understatement.”

Lacie laughs with nothing but love in her eyes, stepping on your foot affectionately in a gesture of solidarity.

“Told you they were complex, Cam.”

“A lot more complex than us, lovebug,” he chuckles.

“You hear that, baby?” Bucky leans over to whisper in your ear. “We’re complex.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” you whisper back, turning your head to press a kiss into his jaw.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The food is divine.

It’s all small plates, Mediterranean inspired and delicious. Seafood, charred vegetables, beautiful mixes of herbs spices with everything doused in olive oil and balsamic.

“Holy shit. I don’t think I can eat for a week after this.”

“You gonna have to unbuckle that designer belt of yours, Cameron?”

You’re met with a cacophony of laughter and shaking heads.

“I like her,” he tells Lacie with a smile. “I see why you two work.”

“Aha, I’ve earned the Cameron seal of approval! Hear that, Lace? He likes me.”

“Oh god. My bestie and my soulmate are gonna be friends. There are so many embarrassing stories that are going to be shared, aren’t there?”

“So many,” you and Cameron say in unison.

Lacie’s shaking her head but she can’t stop laughing, buzzed off of the speciality cocktails and the joy of having her favourite people get along.

“Okay, okay, before we get into that,” she intervenes, “we’re having brunch with my sisters and their soulmates tomorrow. So I hate to be a buzzkill… but I’m gonna have to cut this short, before we pass the point of hungover beyond return.”

“Say hi to them for me, won’t you? I haven’t seen them in so long.”

“Laura’s getting married in a few months - I’ll make sure you two get an invite. They’d love to see you again soon, they both ask about you all the time.”

“Sounds perfect.”

You say your goodbyes, hugs and promises to see each other as soon as possible exchanged with love and excitement.

“I’m moving into Cameron’s place finally, and I’m gonna need your help decorating, babe. Will you come shopping with me sometime this week? I trust your taste.”

“Of course, Lace. I’d love to. Just text me, and we’ll arrange something.”

She presses a lipgloss stained kiss to your cheek, smelling like strawberries and giggles from your childhood.

“Bye, you two! So lovely to see you again, Bucky.”

“You too, Lacie. Good to see you guys, and good to finally meet you, Cam.”

“Cam,” Lacie whispers to you. “They’re besties already.”

You can’t help but laugh, waving them off with Bucky’s hand entangled with yours. After they’ve gone, you both sit back down at the table, exhaling.

“See? Wasn’t as bad as you thought, right?”

“I never thought it’d be bad,” you tease. “Just thought it’d be… intense. Which it was, but in a good way, I think.”

“You wanna have a drink just the two of us? Then we can go home, get into our pyjamas, rewatch an episode or two of Twin Peaks.”

“Sounds perfect,” you assure, standing up to press a quick kiss to his cheek before getting ready to make your way to the bar. “The usual, my love?”

“Surprise me, honey.”

You saunter inside, leaving Bucky sitting pretty on the balcony. The breeze gently blows the linen of his shirt, billowing the material and making him look like an angel.

“Can I get two old fashioneds when you get the chance? Thank you.”

The bartender nods her head at you, giving you a gentle smile before turning away to make your drinks. You take a seat on a stool, resting your feet in your heels for a moment.

“Excuse me?”

A pause.

“Excuse me, miss?”

A man slides into the stool next to you, tapping you on the shoulder to get your attention.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were talking to me.”

“I don’t usually do this, but I saw you across the room and just had to tell you that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You spin around in your place to get a good look at the man who’s speaking. He’s only got a few inches of height on you, but he’s built stocky and strong, with a certain glimmer in his eyes that leaves a strange feeling in your stomach.

“Uh, thank you. That’s kind.”

You try to spin back around, but a clammy hand wraps itself around your forearm, effectively stopping you.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Sorry, sweet thing. Just wanted to talk a little more.”

His voice is dripping with condescension, terribly masking venom and ill intent. The whole situation feels tense and too charged, and you’re desperate to find a way out without upsetting him. You look over to the bartender, trying to catch her attention.

“So you’re here by yourself? Pretty girl like you, you shouldn’t be alone. You don’t know who’s around.”

Your heartbeat picks up, hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. You’re screaming to Bucky in your mind, begging for him to sense your unease as soon as possible. This man still has a grip on your arm, his other hand moving to rest on your thigh. A cold chill overcomes you, and you know it isn’t from the ocean breeze.

“I’m here with my boyfriend,” you choke out. “He’s waiting for me.”

“Really?” he asks, squeezing his grip tighter. “Where?”

“Right here.”

A familiar voice booms from behind you, rumbling through your bones. You exhale shakily, desperate to turn around but unable to.

“This your daddy, sweet thing?”

“He’s my boyfriend, actually.”

Your voice is shaking, and Bucky hates how vulnerable you sound. You feel the sharp pang of sadness stab through his chest momentarily.

“Take your hands off the lady, asshole. Now.”

When the man doesn’t move, Bucky steps in, plastering himself to your back.

“I won’t ask again,” he reiterates, tone deep and low.

The man seems to get the message, judging by the way he slowly backs away from you. The minute he’s far enough away, Bucky slips a hand under your hair to hold the back of your neck, pulling you into his body. You melt into him, resting your head on his chest and breathing him in.

“Oh, your old fashioneds! I’ll start them now. Sorry!” you hear from behind the bar.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Bucky says over your head to the bartender. “We’re gonna get going.”

You assume she nods, because Bucky pulls you gently off your stool, leading you towards the door.

“Come on, angel,” he murmurs into your temple. “Let’s go home.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky’s hand doesn’t leave yours the entire way back to his house.

You both spend more time at your place than you do at his, so it makes a nice change. You love being here, because it is so completely enveloped by Bucky.

You see him everywhere. His favourite soft grey blanket strewn across the back of the couch, his handmade green mug that you bought him in California left ready on the counter by the coffee machine, the weathered and worn blue plaid pyjama pants he loves folded on the bed.

You hear him everywhere. The trees that he planted in the backyard rustling in the breeze, the soft hum of the refrigerator that he fixed himself six months ago, the reruns of vintage shows that play on the TV when he knows you need some background noise.

You smell him everywhere. The lingering scent of his cologne on every surface, his favourite laundry detergent that clings to his comforter even after he’s slept in it time and time again, the salt from the breeze that billows through the house when he leaves the windows open.

You feel him everywhere. The indent of where his head has laid on his pillows, the fingerprint shaped divots in the arm of the couch where he rests his hand as he watches a movie, the light switch in the hallway that has worn away due to him always pressing it with his elbow when he walks through the front door.

He’s in all four corners of this house, plastered all over it north, south, east and west. His very being lives in the walls, the floors, the ceilings. His spirit has cemented itself into the foundations, down through the Earth that it’s built on.

You couldn’t love it more if you tried.

And now, you see glimpses of you. Your toothbrush and shampoo in the bathroom, your mug waiting ready at the coffee machine, the smear of nail polish you accidentally spilled on the coffee table one evening that won’t quite come off. Your pyjamas folded next to his on the bed, your shoes next to his at the door, your socks next to his in the top drawer.

Neither of your places are yours or his, now. They belong to the two of you. You refer to my apartment as our apartment. He refers to his house as our house. You’re not sure when it began, but it’s happening more and more as of late. It makes you happy beyond words.

Your place, his place… doesn’t matter. Home is wherever you’re together.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky kneels in front of you where you sit on the edge of the bed, unbuckling your heels. He digs his thumbs into the bottom of your feet, releasing some of the tension firmly but carefully.

“You sure you’re okay, honey?”

“Yeah, Buck. I’m okay.”

You look down at him, caressing his stubbled cheek gently. He looks back up at you with those big blue eyes blown wide, so full of concern you can practically feel it buzzing around the room.

“If you wanna talk about it…”

“I know. I can talk to you about anything, baby. And I will, when I need to. Look… it was scary in the moment. But I also knew that you were on the terrace outside, and that you’d come and get me eventually. Plus, it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

He takes a pause, still working his thumb into your soles.

“You deal with this stuff a lot?” he asks after a moment.

“Sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. All girls do. You know that.”

“I do. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s different, when it’s the person you love the most in the world.”

“I get that. It’s not different for us, though.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, my love,” you whisper, tracing your fingertips across the features of his face. “You came along and saved me, so.”

“I would have come sooner, you know. I felt it in my chest pretty quick, but got stuck talking to a client of mine. I was inching away for so long before I had to just tell him to leave me alone.”

“It’s okay, we’re all okay. I don’t wanna focus on it. It’s done now.”

“Promise me you’ll talk to me anytime if you need to, though?”

“Promise,” you reassure, linking your pinky finger with his.

You both sit like that for a while, just thinking. You’re still tracing his face, following the beautiful lines and curves as if it’s a colouring book. Focusing on the warmth of his hands on you, you can’t help but let your mind wander to how he handled the guy at the bar. You’ve never seen him so assertive, almost threatening. And the more you think about it, the more you realise - you liked it. Obviously, the situation was unpleasant and far from ideal, but when you hone in on the way your soulmate swooped in to save you…

“What are you thinking about, pretty?” he asks, noticing the way your eyes have clouded over.

“Just the way you looked in that bar. All strong and domineering and in charge.”

“Yeah?”

There’s a dirty smirk making his way onto his handsome face, all mischievous and cunning.

“Yeah. You walked in and saved me like it was nothing. I felt so safe, with the hottest guy in the world protecting me.”

You dance your fingertips across Bucky’s face, tracing his bottom lip.

“I could have killed him,” he murmurs, nipping at the pad of your thumb. “Touching what’s mine.”

Oh. You’ve never heard him speak about you like this, but you’re glad you’re already sitting down - otherwise you’d be melting into a puddle on the ground.

“Mhmm? Yours?”

“You know you’re mine, angel. I have no doubts about that.”

The juxtaposition of it all is making your head spin. Bucky is knelt below you, looking up at you with his ocean blue eyes, but he’s still the one in charge. He’s the one making your knees buckle while his are digging into the carpet.

“I am yours,” you whisper.

“I know.”

His confidence is killing you. There’s sweat dripping down your back already, a bead of it slowly trickling down the curves of your spine. Your chest heaves as you refuse to break eye contact, desperately anticipating his next move.

“You like me like this, don’t you, honey? Sat at your feet, watching you, ready to do whatever you want. Do you even know how much power you hold? Do you even understand the things I would do for you?”

You might pass out if he keeps talking like this. To shut him up, you shove your thumb into his mouth, groaning when he laves over it with his tongue.

“I’ll give you anything,” he mumbles around your digit. “Just say the words.”

“Want you to fuck me,” you choke out.

“How?”

You press down on his tongue for a minute, taking a sick satisfaction in how his eyes water. There’s spit dripping down his chin and your wrist. It’s depraved. You want more.

“Like I’m yours.”

“Yeah?”

“Prove it. Show me. Make sure I don’t forget it.”

He bites down on your thumb before slipping it out of his mouth, licking a stripe from the bottom of it to the top.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “You don’t know what you’ve just asked for.”

He rises suddenly, pulling you off the bed by your arms so you’re standing in front of him. He takes your place at the edge of the mattress, and you realise that you never had the advantage you thought you did.

“Strip.”

You raise a brow at him, and the stormy look you receive in response makes you shut your mouth.

“I won’t ask again, angel. Strip.”

You go to reach for your hem when a hand darts out and catches yours.

“Ah ah ah. What’s the rush? Put on a show for me, baby. Come on.”

You slow right down, carefully undoing the zipper on your dress before gently pulling it up to underneath your chest. You don’t miss the way Bucky’s breath hitches at the sight of what you’ve had on underneath your outfit all night. You pull it up and over your head softly, standing in front of him in your lacy black underwear that you’ve been waiting to debut.

“Fuck, honey girl. Is that new?”

You only nod before stepping forward to stand in between his legs, smiling when his hands fly straight out to rest on your hips.

“You still want me to strip? Or shall I keep this on, let you enjoy it a little longer?”

“Keep it on,” he mumbles against your stomach, pressing kisses to any skin he can reach. “Wanna fuck you in it.”

“Where do you want me?”

“Everywhere.”

You laugh, leaning down to press your lips to his quickly.

“Come sit here,” he decides, patting his thighs.

You go to oblige but stop, pouting at Bucky where he looks up at you.

“What is it, baby?”

“This feels unfair,” you point at him. “You’re wearing all your clothes.”

“Which is the way it’ll stay, until I decide otherwise.”

With that he pulls you down into his lap, manoeuvring you so you’re sat with your legs spread apart by his, back pressed to his chest. You look straight ahead to see yourself in the full length mirror, with Bucky’s self satisfied expression behind you.

“Want you to see what I see,” he explains, running his fingers across your thighs in a featherlight touch. “You should see how pretty you look when you come.”

He cups you over your underwear, both of you groaning in unison.

“This is all for me? All mine?”

All you can do is nod, not trusting your voice anymore. Bucky hooks your panties to the side and runs a finger through your wetness, smothering it around and making a mess on purpose.

“I love you like this,” he murmurs into your ear. “All messy and careless and desperate for me. You’d do anything I asked. So good for me.”

He slides a finger into you, pulling it out swiftly and adding a second. There’s no resistance, only your warm, wet heat sucking him straight back in. You buck your hips, trying to get him to curl them how you like.

“Please,” you whine, squirming in his lap. “Please, Buck.”

He knows exactly what you need, crooking his fingers to hit that spot just right. He can play you like an instrument, plucking at your strings until you’re teetering on the edge in no time.

“Wait,” you plead, gripping his wrist. “Don’t wanna come yet.”

Bucky slows his movements to a halt, kissing your neck and catching your eyes in the mirror.

“No, baby? Why?”

You grab his hand and remove his fingers from you, sucking them into your mouth without breaking eye contact with him. When you’ve licked them clean, you lean back to murmur into his jaw.

“I wanna come on your cock.”

With a gentle kiss to his jaw, you add ever so politely,

“Please.”

Bucky’s never been one to deny you anything, and he’s not about to start now.

“Fuck, look at you. I’ve turned you into a whore.”

“You love it.”

He chuckles all deep and low, the sound rumbling through your body. Pushing you off his lap, you’re confused for a moment before he starts undressing, putting on a show of his own for you.

“C’mere,” he says finally, now fully naked and sat back in his original spot at the edge of the mattress. “Come and watch how pretty you look when you’re sitting on my cock.”

You settle back where you were, legs spread wide by his thick thighs. One of his arms is wrapped around your middle, keeping you firmly plastered to his chest as his other hand lands at the base of your throat.

“Okay, baby. S’all yours. Take what you need.”

His arrogance is doing nothing to soothe the ache between your legs, your arousal dripping through your pretty lace underwear. It’s ruined, but you couldn’t care less.

Lining him up and sinking down, you both groan at the sensation. He fills you up perfectly, almost as if you were made for each other. When you realise you were, your legs go jelly.

“Atta girl. Use me, baby. Fuck yourself, that’s it.”

You use his thighs as leverage, rising up onto your tiptoes to slam back down. Finding a steady rhythm, you feel a funny sense of pride at doing it yourself, at being the one to take you both apart.

Bucky’s praise doesn’t stop, the timbre of his voice in your ear like melted honey, all warm and golden. He presses kisses into your shoulders, your neck, your back, anywhere he can reach. When he can tell you’re getting tired, he starts canting his hips upwards when you come down. He knows he’s hit the right spot when you half collapse backwards into him, whining. His hands tighten their grip on your hip and your throat, keeping you upright.

Your soulmate directs your head back towards the mirror, forcing you to look at your fucked out reflection.

“Look at you,” he hums. “You look wrecked, baby. Such a fucking mess.”

“For you,” you slur, still willing your legs to do the work.

You’re so close you can taste it, and Bucky knows this. His hand that was on your hip migrates to between your legs, where he rubs slow but firm circles on your clit. Your knees buckle, and he knows you’re done for.

“Look at yourself,” he demands, keeping your head up with his grip on you. “Look how fucking pretty you look when you come.”

You watch yourself - the way your jaw drops open and your muscles tighten, back arching up and away. You then shift your gaze to Bucky’s reflection just in time to watch him finish. It’s the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen - his teeth sunken into your shoulder, sweat dripping down his chest, eyes blown so wide you can’t tell they’re blue anymore.

The two of you sit like that for a while, still connected in every sense of the word. You’re trying to catch your breath, every bone in your body completely relaxed. Bucky’s arms circle your middle, ensuring every inch of his skin is pressed to yours.

“Told you,” he mumbles into your jaw. “Prettiest sight in the fucking world, honey girl.”

You tilt your head up to look at the two of you, the way you fit together so perfectly.

Yeah, you think. Prettiest sight in the world.

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[fandom-go-round]

bg3 companions + their reactions to finding out they knocked up fem tav? 👀 (for the ladies we can say they're trans or it's magic)

I wrote my boy first because he’s the best, can you guess who it is? Hint: He’s my first romance. No guess for you lovely requestor because you know too much LOL

Also I’m ignoring cannon endings here because we want to end up happy with babies. No angst here, begone!

Warnings: Implied Sex, Implied Sexual Situations, Pregnant Tav, Babies, Pregnancy Thing (Morning Sickness)

Astarion:

At first, he thinks that you’re joking. Vampires can’t have children after all, that’s a pretty basic fact. When you’re insistent, part of him wants to accuse you of cheating, as much as it pains him. That’s a part of him still tainted by Cazador and he muffles it as best he can. Astarion is going to insist you go to a healer together; if you’re not pregnant, something must be going on you need help with. When Shadowheart confirms you’re with child, he’s at a loss. Astarion doesn’t know what to say, truly.

After the initial shock, he goes on the hunt for anything and everything about human-vampire babies. The records are hard to find and some are locked far, far away but he finds them all. He can be very persuasive after all. It’s in one of these books that he figures out how you two made a baby; he’s going to be very careful taking your blood from now on. Speaking of, Astarion will refuse to drink from you while you pregnant, no ifs ands or buts. This is a firm boundary for him, even if you smell more and more delicious the farther along you get.

The pregnancy is hard and Astarion is afraid he’s going to lose you. The birth is especially gruesome and it’s only because of Shadowheart and Halsin that you’re alive. He wants to resent the baby for how you suffered but he can’t, they’re just too perfect. He’s afraid of getting too close, of tainting this little thing but you refuse to let him be apart. The first time he holds your child he weeps and it’s over. Astarion is always going to struggle with his emotions and feelings about being a father but never about how much he loves them. Also, he’s completely in charge of their wardrobe; you’re going to have the best-looking baby in the entire city hands down.

Gale:

Gale was always on the fence about kids. Sure they’re cute but they’re also loud and he struggles to take care of himself, let alone a little squishy creature. That doesn’t mean he’s upset when you tell him you’re pregnant, not at all. He’s just doing furious calculations in his mind and it looks like he’s crashed. Give his brain a moment to reset and he’ll give you a large grin and lean down to kiss you. Tara is the first person the two of you tell and she’s excited, vowing to be the baby’s protector. Gale loves her even more which is quite the feat. His mother is next and she immediately starts offering help. He just can’t get over how perfect his family is, it feels like a dream sometimes. 

He takes a very technical approach to your pregnancy, like everything. Gale is reading all of the baby books and using all of the tracking charts he can get his hands on. He even goes to talk to midwives, wanting an expert opinion. It’s very sweet of him but you have to remind him that all babies grow at their own pace. He just wants to be the best dad he can and for him, that means more information. It is funny to watch him change a diaper for the first time but he never backs down from a challenge! Maybe he can use magic…?

He’s a mess when you actually go into labor. Gale swore he would be with you the entire time and then passed out in the final moments. He wakes up to a healthy baby and immediately starts crying. He enjoys being a dad, especially teaching your child new things. Your kid is going to have a huge curious streak that Gale will feed with vigor. He doesn’t consciously want your kid to be a wizard but would be overjoyed to have more in common with them.

Wyll:

Wyll is over the moon, as surprised as he is. Kids are something that he’s always wanted to have eventually and with you, his favorite person? What could go wrong? Of course, he’ll hear out your concerns if you have any and can have difficult conversations around pregnancy and child birth. One benefit of being a noble is that he has resources to help; whatever you want will be yours. He’s nervous to tell his dad but once the older man starts to tear up, he knows that he’s made a good choice. Wyll wants his family to be whole and happy.

He’s a chronic hoverer, as cute and frustrating as that is. Even in the early stages of pregnancy Wyll will try to do everything for you; moving a trunk? He’s got that, don’t strain yourself. Trying to cook dinner? Let him help you love. Be firm that you can do things yourself and he’ll back off. Just know that when you turn to ask him for help he’ll be waiting in the wings to be your hero. He’s also a pro at helping you figure out cravings. Wyll won’t complain if you wake him up in the middle of the night to go get something from the kitchen. He loves wrapping his arms around you from behind and rocking together; you being in his arms is his favorite thing.

He’s a trooper during the birth, being there the entire time. It takes a long time and he does worry but he encourages you and is your personal cheerleader. He can’t stop smiling after the baby is born, tracing their cheeks and forehead. As much as it would be funny to say Wyll struggles with being a dad, he really doesn’t. He loves your child so much, you’re surprised he never brought up kids in the first place. He is very much the definition of doting father but don’t let that fool you, he takes no disrespect, especially towards you. You’re the ruler of the house and Wyll is your backup. He’s the perfect mix of fun and strict dad. Now if he can convince you to have others…

Karlach:

Karlach is over the moon when you find our you’re pregnant. She had noticed you felt off and encouraged you to go to the doctor. Neither of you were expecting the baby news, as silly as it sounds. That doesn’t stop her form immediately lifting you up with a loud ‘whoop!’ and spinning your around the room. She loves babies! She loves you! This is going to be great.

She insists on redoing a room just for the baby. Even if their crib is going to be in your room for the first few months, Karlach wants your kid to have their own space. She paints the walls, builds all the furniture, everything. She asks for you opinion on decorations and doesn’t do anything without checking with you first but it’s her labor of love. It’s also her project for when she gets anxious thinking about the future. What is something goes wrong with her heart? What if something is wrong with the baby? What is the birth is too much for you? All of these thoughts get washed away in making the baby’s room perfect and then she goes to talk to you.

Karlach helps as much as she can during the birth aka you kick her (lovingly) into the hall to go grab towels so she stops hovering. When she gets back the baby is almost here and there’s no time to panic, just watch with wide eyes. She thinks you’re even more of a badass for going through all that and asks to hold the baby fist. Karlach cries holding them; they’re so cute and small and they’re the perfect mix of the two of you. She’s defiantly going to be the fun mom and there will be moments where it feels like you have two kids to scold. She takes safety very seriously, however, and is the first to lecture about stranger danger. Your kid will never feel unloved or unsafe, Karlach swears it on her life. This is her family now and no one else can have them.

Lae’zel:

Lae’zel struggles with the news that you’re having a baby. Partly because she never thought that she could have kids and the other part because she’s terrified about being a mom. She wasn’t raised in a traditional Faerunian way; no where on the continent can be compared to being raised Gith. She needs time to process on her own and it’ll be a few days before she comes back ready to talk. Take her concerns seriously and, if you truly want to keep the baby, she’ll raise them with you. She loves you after all.

It takes her a bit to understand all the changes your body is going through. It’s horrifying and amazing to watch your stomach swell and she loves gently cradling your bump as it grows. She doesn’t know what to do about the crying, except when someone else makes you cry. Then it’s easy: she wants to kill them. That usually makes you laugh and you’re able to talk her out of bodily harm. You do have some nice shop discounts now. Lae’el is very much your guard dog and she fulfills her position with pride.

The entire birthing process just shows Lae’zel that you’re the strongest person she knows. She’s completely impressed by how you handle everything and has a new respect for moms everywhere. She still thinks it’s gross and inefficient but badass all the same. Lae’zel is a strict mom but soft in her own way. She’s still learning to be kind to herself and the world around her. Your child will never feel the brunt of her frustration or confusion; they will, however, be able to swing a sword much too young. She beams with pride the first time your child beheads a training dummy and you know, deep deep down, that the two of them going to be trouble.

Shadowheart:

She starts to notice the signs before you do, honestly. At first it’s little things; you’re tired quicker, you’re more sensitive to certain smells. The big one is that you start to get morning sickness, frequently. Shadowheart finally sits you down after the fifth morning in a row over a bucket and checks you over. You’re pregnant all right, not doubt there. She’s going to be as surprised as you; you were both good about protection. Surprise baby!

She’s fairly neutral about kids. She never thought that she would have any, serving Shar, but now there’s a little more appeal to them. The pooping and crying she could live without but the idea of there being someone made up of the two of you? Shadowheart likes the idea more than she would admit out loud. She starts researching pregnancy healing the midwifery right away; she doesn’t have a lot of expertise with babies but she is a healer.

Shadowheart insists on delivering your baby herself. She wants to be a part of this and while you’re going to be doing the hard part, she wants to support you. If you have an issue, she will relent but has to be in the room. Your delivery is flawless and as she holds the bloody baby in her hands, she feels full. Of love and hope and excitement, all those emotions she once would have sworn off. For the first time since you’ve found out you’re pregnant, she’s excited to be a mom. She’s a strict but loving mom, teasing her kid and embarrassing them in public (just a little, like a cheek pinch). Shadowheart loves singing to your kids, something neither of you knew until now. Your house is full of love and laughter and singing, just perfect.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

Could you write Remus being in a bad mood before the full moon and snapping at everyone, but gets all soft when gf reader is near

thanks for requesting! hope you like it!

pairing: Remus x reader

description: Remus is irritable before the full moon, his senses heightened and his temper short… but one person soothes him even when the rest of the world is anything but soothing.

tags: fluffy fluff, established relationship, gn, wolfstar if you squint, (can you tell how much i love sirius even when i’m not writing a sirius fic? oops)

word count: 1.4k

In the quiet, calm common room, where various groups of students sat lounging or studying, where the crackling fire filled the room with a glowing warmth, Remus Lupin sat with his mind in a frenzy, his emotions on a rollercoaster, his body simultaneously restless and aching. It was the night before the full moon, and in a lifelong string of bad ones, this one was particularly bad. His skin felt electric, his mood even more so. 

He was planning to retire to his dorm room as soon as — and he meant as fucking soon as — the assignment sprawled on the table in front of him was finished. It was a partnered project. And it was due tomorrow. James — unlucky enough to be his partner — sat on the floor on the other side of the table, sick of the homework and even more sick of his best mate. His best mate whom he loved… his best mate who’d always be there for him… he kept reminding himself when all he could notice was his best mate who snapped at him every three seconds… his best mate who kept losing his place in the project, prolonging the miserable experience each time. 

“I think if we just add the bit here about defensive spells at the end, it should be good enough,” he suggests in desperation. “Didn’t we already go over that part?” Remus shoots. “I know ‘good enough’ is perfectly acceptable when you partner with Padfoot, but I’d rather not let one stupid assignment tank the marks I’ve been working for all bloody term.” 

“I’m sitting right here, Moony,” Sirius says from beside him without even looking over, used to Remus’s meanness the days before the transformation. 

“Yes, the constant distractions to James’s already fickle attention span are reminder enough of that, thanks.” 

“Bloody hell you’re bitchy, Moony,” James defends himself, starting to seriously lose his patience. “You’re the one who keeps getting all jittery and losing his place, mate! We’d’ve finished an hour ago otherwise!” 

“I —” Remus starts but doesn’t continue, running his hands through his hair in frustration. After a second, a group of first year girls in a nearby corner starts giddily screaming and laughing, and Remus visibly flinches then looks at them murderously. “Fucking hell, have they never heard of ‘inside voices’? Nothing they could’ve just said could possibly that exciting.” 

“Alright, moody,” Sirius, more adept at dealing with Remus’s moods than James, finally turns to him. “How about you stop staring daggers at the happy children and focus on your shit so you two can finally finish?” “But they’re so bloody loud,” Remus complains, his senses on overdrive driving him mad. He rolls his eyes at them, and when they let out another fit of loud giggling, his expression suggests he’s considering going over to ask them —politely, he surely thinks — to keep it down. Sirius chuckles but smacks Remus with a cushion to distract him before he inadvertently makes a group of little girls cry. Better Remus takes it out on him and James than strangers, he thinks. Remus not so gently shoves Sirius in response. “What the hell, Pads?! I feel like my skin is on fucking fire, and you, you what? want a pillow fight? Why is everyone behaving like eleven year old girls?” “Well,” Sirius responds with utter calm, “They’re acting like eleven year old girls because they are, Moons. I’m acting like an eleven year old girl because being giddy with your mates transcends age and gender, and you… well, you’re acting like an eleven year old girl because it’s your time of the month, darling.” 

“You’re insufferable.” 

“No, you are. But we’ll suffer you anyway, right Prongs?” 

James grunts and gives a half-hearted, “yeah, yeah.” Remus rolls his eyes but cools off a bit. He goes back to the assignment for a few minutes.

“Pads, no offense, mate, but can you go sit over there?” he asks, nodding at the armchair next to the sofa. 

“Rude.” “It’s just… you’re… you’re really hot,” Remus says, his voice tinged with something like embarrassment. Sirius gasps and brings his hand to his chest in mock-scandal. 

“Moony! I didn’t know you felt this way about me.” He laughs. In a whisper, he jokes, “Does Y/N know?” Remus just glares at him. “Because you’re not so bad yourself, handsome.” He wriggles his eyebrows at Remus. Remus just shoves him again, this time more playfully, and Sirius gives him space. “Thanks. It’s like my senses are all ten times keener.”

After another painful while of working, Remus registers the common room door opening and closing, and a moment later loud laughter reaches his ears. James and Sirius turn to him in concern, thinking he’s going to snap again. But he doesn’t.

You and Lily, still laughing loudly together, come over to the boys. You plop down next to Remus and all but lay on top of him with an exaggerated exhale. Okay, now they’re certain he’ll snap at the contact. But he doesn’t.

“I’m soo tired,” you say. And when you notice Sirius and James’ wide eyes staring at you in horror, you add, “What?,” looking around confusedly. 

Remus’s arms wrap themselves around you, he nuzzles into your jumper, breathing you in, and he says, “Godric, I’m happy to see you, love.” James and Sirius’ expressions relax, James rolling his eyes and Sirius just chuckling. You don’t even notice, your attention fully on Remus now. You wrap your arms around him in turn and start running your hand up and down his back. “You okay, Rem?” you whisper. “No,” James answers before Remus can say anything. “He’s being a complete twat.” You laugh and look down at him in your arms. “That true?” In response, he just buries his head in the crook of your neck, hiding. You feel him give an affirmative “hmm.” You turn back to your other friends, saying, “Well, lads, I’m sure he’s very sorry.” “Yeah, yeah,” says James with a scowl that looks suspiciously like suppressed laughter. Sirius gathers their stuff and, pulling James off the floor, says, “Let’s give the lovebirds some space. You can finish this in the morning.”

It’s just you and Remus on the sofa now, cuddling in the quiet, one of your hands soothingly scratching his scalp, the other rubbing his back. 

“I have something for you,” you tell him. His eyes droopy from your ministrations, he looks up at you and quirks an eyebrow. When you scoot a bit away from him to grab your bag, he whines dramatically and pulls you back to him. “Relax, I’m right here,” you laugh, settling in again. “Here,” you say as you hand him a chocolate bar. He giggles in response. “Thanks, sweetheart. I went through the rest of my stash this weekend.” “I know,” you smirk at him. He nuzzles into your shoulder again. “You always take such good care of me,” he whispers, giving your shoulder a kiss. “You take care of me too, Rem. Just in different ways.” Your hand comes up to caress his cheek, and you kiss his forehead before settling yours against it. 

“I love you.” A squeeze. “I love you too.” A chaste peck. 

After a minute, you stop running your hands through his hair. 

“Please don’t stop,” he pleads. “You have no idea what you do to me.” You cheekily quirk an eyebrow at him. 

He chuckles lowly but says, “Not like that.” A beat; he smirks. “Well, like that too,” he chuckles again. “But right now I just mean you… I don’t know… you soothe me, I guess. All of me.” He looks a bit more serious now. “James wasn’t wrong. I’ll apologize later. But it’s been driving me absolutely mad all day.” He sighs, and you know he means the upcoming transformation. “But when I’m with you, it’s like the world slows down to normal again. Better than normal, actually, since you’re with me.” He gives you an adoring smile, holding your hand and drawing circles on the back of it. “You soothe all my senses, Y/N.” He kisses the back of your hand. “And my soul,” he adds. 

“Remus,” you whine lovingly. “Stop. You’re going to make me cry. And I can never say such beautiful things to you.” “You don’t have to say anything,” he says genuinely. “Just be with me.” He pulls you closer again, and you continue your comforting gestures. 

“That I can do,” you say, and he smiles with all the warmth you feel, gives you a lingering kiss, and settles back into your arms.

[atrwriting]

kisses and other sweet things (part 2) -- billy the kid x cowgirl!reader

hey party people :) posting this when I should be studying HAHA

send good vibes for my civil procedure final tomorrow many thx <3

I watched the scene where billy and ollinger fight and this very much inspired it lol enjoy

as always, warnings: smuuuut, p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT), dom!billy, brat!reader, violence, blood, pussy slapping, overstimulation

thank you all for reading!!! I love you all so much!!!!

ANYWAYS... part two:

neither one of you told… but it didn’t take long for the others to sniff the air and have an inkling for how the wind changed overnight.

in all honesty, it was billy’s fault.

the man found every way to remain close enough to be considered by your side since that night.

he would sit by you at dinner. he wouldn’t touch another woman. he always looked at you when he told a joke. he always looked at you when someone else said something funny. that joyful twinkle in his eye was reserved for you, and only you, and everyone had picked up on it. not to mention — he’d not only check his horse — but yours as well.

everyone knew what was up. everyone. absolutely everyone.

billy made it abundantly clear without even uttering a word that you two had participated in something similar to carnal relationship.

…but, in all honesty, you didn’t mind.

you would’ve preferred to talk about it, sure. what prevented you from bringing that up to billy was that you didn’t have to pry respect and loyalty out of him — the man just did it, and because he wanted to. it was… okay, fuck it — you have to admit it to yourself: it was nice. billy the kid showing you slightly more than common decency and general enjoyment of your company was nice. you were worried about bringing it up to him at the idea of losing the potential staple of someone having your back, and them trusting you enough to have theirs.

you were fucked. totally fucked. absolutely fucked. no way around it.

the man was a mysterious fuck, as well — looked at you like you were an angel, but has fucked you like even the devil would avert its eyes from the debauchery. respected in the streets, and disrespected in the sheets — every woman’s dreams.

the one unfortunate aspect was… the others. you can usually ignore everyone, and anything — only way to get through life. however, the severity of the teasing had begun to worry you.

it first began with a curt up-down look of when billy always found his way to dismount from his horse and walk next to you. it wasn’t like he was guarding you, no… neither was he following you like a puppy. it was like there was a new form of respect there — and given the fact that most of the men still looked at you like you were just a silly girl, they noticed it. for a split second, in your stupid mind, you thought it would maybe make the rest of the men treat you better — but how could you ever think that? you rolled with these guys because their very existence was about disrespect and taking for themselves.

billy had made you bot outsiders — more than you already were.

like… maybe you weren’t together… but you had each other. you weren’t sure if you could count on him yet — but his actions were… well, they confused you. and you weren’t sure if it was a good or bad confusion yet.

there had been very few moments of privacy, so you were not able to catch him alone and speak about what happened. at first, you figured you both would go about your lives as usual… not wanting to expect too much from a man who appeared to live as he wanted when he wanted to. however… you didn’t expect that how he wanted to live his life was, well — apparently by your side.

unfortunately, thinking things over was not a freedom given to you without obstacles. many of them began giving you and him looks — and then the teasing started. instead of being known by name or a nickname, the men could be heard calling you “billy’s girl” in hushed tones.

you feared the day they finally bucked up the jewels and called you his whore. you knew it was coming — you didn't want it to happen, but you knew it was. you couldn't afford to be naive.

if anyone else called you his girl — you might’ve blushed. you almost relished in it. however, when men who barely respected women called you that and you both worked with them — you knew they didn’t mean it fondly. it annoyed you, especially when you hadn’t been able to even talk about it with billy.

were you his girl? were you a fling? would billy fuck another woman if given the chance? and honestly, did he tell anyone?

questions ran through your head with very few conclusions approaching. you thought their teasing would be the worst of the worst — until it wasn’t.

no… the worst was when billy had fought one of them.

a few days after the teasing had begun to get bad, you had finally stopped at another boarding house and bar with the other boys. you figured you would retire early and let them have their fun — but that would not be the case.

when you eventually had drank your share of booze and went upstairs when the girls came around, that was when ollinger had opened his big, fat mouth.

“when billy’s done, can i get a turn?”

you froze in your tracks.

this was your worst fear — losing their respect. you had worked tirelessly to earn it, and there had been times where you felt like you never did. you may never have had their actually respect, the kind they give to men — but they never did something like that. and when all of them laughed, and began to hoot and holler — that’s when you knew where you stood with them.

fucking billy.

but that wouldn't stop you, no. they brought you on because you were a pretty thing with claws — and that's what they were going to get.

“known you longer than i’ve known him. can’t say you’ve ever peaked my interest,” you spat as you turned around to face him from a few feet away. “don’t know if you’re man enough.”

he stood then, eyes wild. he held the neck of a bottle in one hand and immediately took a swig, appearing to ignite the fire in his eyes and the aggression in his steps toward you.

“you want me to show you a real man, sweetheart?”

you took a step forward, afraid to back down. you narrowed your eyes at him. “you want me to show you how i’m a better shot than you, sweetheart?”

he stepped closer to you then. you didn’t budge — you weren’t sure if that was out of pride or fear. when he stepped closer, the stench of liquor leaked from his mouth like smoke from a wildfire. a smirk was plastered on his face, and staying still and silent was the only thing you could do to hold your ground.

“you know what that makes you, right?” he spat in a low tone. “makes you billy’s whore.”

you couldn't help it — your face twisted with shame and anger. your vision was going almost as red as ollinger's, and you weren't sure if both of you would survive the next action that came from you. before you could process the impact of his words, let alone respond — billy spoke up.

“shut your mouth, ollinger.”

your eyes flickered over to where billy stood with his hands balled at his sides.

ollinger took another swig of his bottle before he turned and stalked over to billy. billy didn’t flinch, but simply watched a drunk ollinger try to keep his cool. the entire group watched — and waited.

“you don’t tell me what to do, boy,” ollinger sneered, clutching his bottle. “you ain’t special. i ain’t never seen anything special about you.”

billy reached for his gun, but did not pull it out. billy’s hands were shaky, and that’s when you realized it — he was drunk too. “alright then — let’s fight it out.”

“i ain’t fightin’ you with a gun.” ollinger brushed off billy’s comment with another careless swig of his drink. “you ain’t that important.”

“then let’s fight with our fuckin’ fists.” billy discarded his gun and the belt it was usually kept in. “like men.”

ollinger’s eyes showed a peak of interest.

your eyes… well, they showed terror.

ollinger walked towards billy with a dip of his chin that suggested he would enjoy the aspect of hurting billy more than winning anything over billy. ollinger already thought he was better than billy, he didn’t need to win anything — but that look in his eye? when predator was threatened by another?

without his gun, you were worried for billy. frankly, billy should’ve shown it — or at least you thought he would. ollinger had at least a decade of years, strength, and experience on billy. not to mention — ollinger has also had a vendetta against billy since they met.

ollinger immediately threw of his belt. “i’ll beat your ass any day.”

as ollinger drained the rest of the bottle, you could hear the hollering of the other men around you as they drew closer. ollinger threw the bottle to the ground and stalked towards billy.

as billy was about to start pulling off his vest, you stepped up to intervene.

you’d at least like to talk to him before he died.

however, jesse stepped in front of you. “can’t get in the way of two men fighting, doll.”

you raised your eyebrow at jesse. “ill cut your cock off.”

jesse only laughed, but kept his arm outstretched in front of you.

with years of experience… you thought ollinger would fight fair — but he caught billy with a jab before billy could get his vest off. you lunged for the pair, but jesse and some of the others held you back.

you didn’t know what to do. sure, you believed in billy — but the man had a tendency of getting his shit rocked in hand to hand combat.

ollinger let out an excited battle cry — and your hate sank into your stomach. billy struggled to get up as you fought against jesse.

“come on, billy!” ollinger baited. “come on, billy!”

you watched the look in billy’s eyes then — assessing the threat. billy immediately dodged a punch over his head, came back up, and started slamming ollinger’s head against a wooden post.

the excitement of the men around you slightly died as they realized that billy didn’t fight like other men — he had no interest in punching, or relishing in getting a lick in. he went straight for a possible kill shot, grunting as he hoped to subdue ollinger.

there would be no stopping either of them. you relented against jesse’s arm, staring at the two men. your mouth parted in horror, and your stomach dropped at the sight.

billy eventually threw him over the picnic table like he was nothing more than a sack of flour. his grunts were predatory — powerful and fucking masculine. fighting was fun for ollinger — but this? this? for billy? this was necessity. he didn’t care about asserting dominance — he cared about being left the fuck alone. he needed to make sure ollinger never fucked about him again. dominance was worth nothing if you didn't have survival.

billy, still intoxicated, stumbled over to where he had thrown ollinger — but ollinger was too quick. he grabbed billy by the boot and threw him back. billy landed on his ass, and you watched in fear as ollinger stomped toward him. his eyes were wild and his mouth was curled into a bloody snarl. you wanted to get involved, you knew you should’ve — but what could you do? this was what happened when you rolled with men like this — they had to fight this out themselves, or they would become everyone’s problem. you hated it — every fucking minute of it — because this problem started with ollinger’s disrespect for you and how you could cut his jewels off before he could even get a kiss in. poor billy…

but not poor billy.

no, not poor billy — because when ollinger stood over billy, billy kicked him so far backwards that ollinger then stumbled and fell on his ass.

billy was up in an instant, stumbling, and smacked the absolute shit out of ollinger with an open palm. ollinger flew backwards for a second time that night, and suddenly the men grew more excited watching the fight. all you could do was trail behind them — worried.

billy walked up to the porch and stood above ollinger, but ollinger’s wounded pride had gotten the better of him. he took billy by the cloth of his shoulders, and slammed him repeatedly against the wooden wall of the outside of the house. jesse and his friends were cheering on billy, but all you could hear was his pained grunts. and then, just then — the moonlight had caught billy’s face just right. his eyes were screwed shut as the pain registered from the blow — and blood was pouring down from his nose and into his mouth. billy fell against ollinger in exhaustion, and that was when pat garett started cheering louder and louder.

“please,” you whispered, helpless.

in an instant, billy had gotten his elbows up and clutched the shoulders of ollinger’s shirt. with (basically) a battle cry, he willed himself to push ollinger off of him, in front of him, and then in through the doors of where all of the other men were with their women.

you followed jesse, pat, and the others.

billy and ollinger immediately crashed into the floor of the house with grunts and screams. the men once getting blown or ridden were now cheering on the fight, and the women above them or at their feet were stunned and confused — worried about getting hit.

this time — billy had gotten up before ollinger. ollinger may have had years of experience on billy, but years were years: ollinger was old, and exhausted. billy stood up and began laying overhead punch after overhead punch onto ollinger.

“get up, ollinger!” he yelled, eyes black. “get the fuck up!”

immediately, billy pulled back. like you had thought — he didn’t need the kill shot, but he needed the threat subdued. billy was breathing heavy, he was bleeding… you were so worried for him. jesse pushed past you and grabbed billy’s arm, raising it above his head.

“boys, we got a winner!” jesse cheered before everyone followed in suit.

billy fell back against the nearest bed and sat down. it just so happened that was a bed that your oldest friend was sharing with a woman. stunned, the woman grabbed billy by the shoulders to steady him. she wiped some of the blood off of his face with his shirt. you were thankful — but then her smile turned big when she realized how handsome he was.

your blood boiled.

you watched at his big eyes darted up to her face as he tried to regain his composure. he took one look at her face, your friend, and got up.

he spat once on the floor, cleaning his mouth of any excess blood. over his shoulder, he threw, “no hard feelings, ollinger.”

and started straight towards you.

you stood there, in the back behind everyone, frozen in place. billy was in front of you in as little as five strides. thankfully she had wiped his face — because he only tasted vaguely like blood when he grabbed you by the face and pressed your lips to his.

he cupped your face with one hand, but it held you in place like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. with his finger stroking your cheek, you kissed him with every bit of fear, frustration, and excitement you had in you. your lips folded together like you two were the only ones in the room — and like everyone in the room wasn’t cheering for the clear winner of the fight, and the kiss with the girl the fight was started over.

billy had stood up for you. the one man who had actually ever done that.

against your lips, he whispered. “i know you could handle himself yourself — but you shouldn’t have had to.”

you giggled against his lips, yours stretching into a wide grin. he pecked your lips a couple of times, unable to get enough of being the only one to be able to do this. he replied, “never had much taste for these girls — had a different one in mind.”

“you gonna take her somewhere private, cowboy, or what?” you asked.

billy’s eyes twinkled with mischief before he bent low, and hauled you over his shoulder. your feet kicked in front of him as you struggled to hold your hat in place and keep your balance. you were shouting at him, but nothing could be heard over your giggles or everyone else’s whistling. with one firm arm circling your hips, keeping your ass in place with his massive hand, he kicked open the doors and brought you upstairs.

“billy, if you don’t put me down —“ you laughed, breathlessly. threats were futile. “i swear —“

“shhh, sweetheart — you know i’ll take care of you,” he responded.

billy found an empty bedroom and immediately went to work. he sat you down on a low dresser and immediately started going for your riding pants and shirt. you kicked off your boots and shimmied out of the fabric as billy stood over you.

with one hand pressed to your cheek, he kissed you once more. you pulled away to smile at him. you spoke, “thank you… for what you did.”

“ollinger needs to know when to shut his mouth,” he spoke, engulfing you in a kiss once more. “should’ve made a move if he was jealous. now i’m the only one who gets to have my face between these pretty thighs.”

he pulled you by the hips so you were almost hanging off the edge, your feet flat against the wood of the dresser. you were breathless as your head began to swim. billy got down on his knees, parted your thighs, and dove for your slit.

your head immediately hit the wall. you wanted to arch your back — keen towards him — but you had limited mobility. you were at the mercy of the man before you who was lapping at your clit like nothing else existed. you should've been worried about his injuries, the dried blood on your face... but you couldn't. you didn't. billy was satisfying every bit of desperation you had felt since that night and you were too strung out to fight him. strained moans left your lips as your hips began to buck into his face.

“billy, stop…” you whined. “i want you inside me…”

he didn’t listen. the man kept his tongue drawing all kinds of messy, wet circles around your sensitive bud that pulled every dirty whine out of you. in an instant, billy pushed two fingers into you and immediately started pumping them. you lost your breath — and your ability to speak coherent sentences as well. he was tapping against your upper wall, pining for that sweet spot that was gonna make you sing for him.

“fuck, fuck, fuck…” you cried. one of your hands found his tangled mess of curls and fisted your fingers through them. billy’s tongue was thick, hot, and the roof of it was rough as he shook his head against your center, increasing the friction. your hips and legs were spasming uncontrollably as a warm feeling spread from your abdomen. “jesus christ — you’re so mean.”

the air seemed to shift in that moment, but you were so lost you couldn’t comprehend. billy wrapped his cracked lips around your clit, and pulled at it and sucked. hard.

your eyes screwed shut as a cry vibrated through your chest and into your throat. it hurt, god it hurt, but in the most bittersweet way you could imagine. it was like pain and comfort all in one, delivered by the same hand, driving you into submission. every blood vessel was throbbing, throbbing, throbbing for billy’s movements and you couldn’t regain control — and you weren't sure you wanted to.

he suddenly pulled away. “you think i’m mean, sweetheart?”

his blue eyes pierced into yours when he picked up his head to face you. his eyes were raised in a manner that suggested he expected a response, but you were still in your daze. your eyes were glossy, your lips were puffy and parted, hoping he'd answer his question for you.

billy didn’t like that. with his free hand, he slapped your clit.

your body jolted, surprised at the sensation. it made your breath catch in your throat as all of your senses were on red alert... but it only made your pussy throb harder.

“billy…” you whispered, tears coming to your eyes. “you’re teasing me.”

his dry thumb began to rub circles around your sensitive clit, and the mixture of your slick and the rough skin of his dumb drew you into his control. in that moment — in that raw, vulnerable moment — you couldn’t think of anything else besides billy, and getting him to make you cum.

“mean, that it, sweetheart?” another slap to your clit. “you want me to show you mean?”

even in your haze, you were a brat at heart. with a smirk, yet shaking from how sensitive you were, you smirked at him. “don’t think you can.”

in an instant, he was on his feet. you struggled to ring out your tense muscles and stand with him, but billy wasn’t having it. he flipped you around so you were on your stomach on the dresser, legs hanging over the edge. billy pulled your hips up for you to stand on your toes, forcing your ass into the perfect position for him.

“slut for only me, huh?” he asked, kneading the skin of your ass in his hands. he slapped it once, twice, thrice — ripping little squeals from your petal pink lips. his thumb found its way into the outer folds of your pussy, barely entering. “won’t throw even a pity glance at anyone down there — but something about me just gets you this wet.”

he pushed his thumb into your sopping wet hole, and you squealed. you held onto the dresser to give yourself leverage to push yourself into his hand, but one of his hands held down your lower back.

“more, please…” you whispered.

“that smirk made me think you don’t deserve it,” he spat, still playing with your pretty pussy.

“billy —!” you screamed with exasperation. “please!”

with his thumb still in your pussy, billy leant down and wrapped an arm around your throat. with your neck in the crook of his elbow, he pulled your back to arch up towards him. billy placed his lips right by your ear, and spoke, “is that who’s got you this worked up, baby? huh? me? be sweet, and maybe i’ll kiss those pretty tears away.”

you hadn’t even noticed it — but he was right. your cheeks were stained with tear streaks that made them damp. with broken breaths, you spoke, “please — i promise.”

he began to pump his thumb into your pussy, while his other fingers worked light circles around your clit. “promise what?”

“that i’m — that i —“ you couldn’t get the words out. you were a struggling mess — clinging to the dresser with the little strength in your hands you could muster, and completely at the mercy of billy’s hold. his breath was hot against your face as heat rose throughout your body. “i —“

“fucked so dumb you can't use your words?”

“fuck —“ you cried, already almost succumbing to the feather light touches on your clit. “you’re the only one, billy — only one — please, just let me cum.”

“yeah?” he grunted. “gonna take what i give you?”

“anything, billy —“ you gasped. “please — just want you.”

billy kept his promise. he pressed his lips against your cheek, pushing your head slightly to the side. every muscle in your body was taut with trying to remain balanced and stay perked for every one of billy’s moments. his fingers in your clit began working faster and harder, and your body began to shake. you were so sensitive to everything around you — his kisses, his chokehold, his heat on your back, his fingers buried deep in your folds. you bucked his hips back into his hand, and everything exploded.

without billy’s hold, you would’ve collapse into the dresser. your knuckles were white as they bent, causing your nails to rip at the wood of the dresser. you back was arched completely towards the ceiling as you tried to remain in position. billy was whispering nasty, nasty, nasty things in your ear that coupled with your delicious moans.

“that’s it, baby, just keep cumming for me,” he rasped, groaning in your ear. “can be such a brat — but she’s got the prettiest pussy. i know what makes my girl tick.“

“yeah, yeah, yes —“ you cried, falling against billy’s shoulder. the world melted before you. your eyes were drifting open and closed. the haze had consumed your brain, and each of billy’s movements made a whine well up behind your closed lips. “fuck, billy, i can’t —“

his fingers didn’t stop, and you felt like you were about to collapse. “oh, sweetheart, too much for you?”

you were practically fucking sobbing at this point. “n-no-no—“

“greedy, baby,” he said, licking at your cheek. “thought you were gonna take everything i gave you?”

“your cock, billy — please —“

“naw, sweetheart,” he said stroking your cheek. “think you’re in over your pretty little head. can’t take anymore.”

“no, no, billy — i want your cock so bad —“ your whines were music to his fucking ears.

“yeah, baby?” he asked, shimmying off his pants. “you want my cock? think you can handle it?”

“i can, i can, i can —“ you chanted, your head swimming. you felt billy’s hands spread your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands. his cock slipped in through your folds until he bottomed out, pressing his hips firmly against your back side.

with billy’s mouth still so close to your ear, he rasped, “sucked my cock into you, doll. couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

you arched your backside into his hips, eagerly hoping to meet every thrust. billy had once hand holding your hips down, and the other was clutching the soft, supple skin of your throat. you could hear every labored breath of his, mixing with your own. this position was unlike any other: from the back was usually reserved for women of the night, but holding you? in such an intimate manner? with his lips dragging across the skin of your cheek? waiting for how you reacted to his touch?

you were a mess. mud in his hands — dirty and messy and everywhere —needing him to keep you together.

“nothin’ feels better than you inside me, billy,” you whined.

“i know, darlin’, i’ll always take care of you,” he groaned, lips pulling at your ear lobe which sent your nerve endings on fire. “don’t know how you do it t’me. y’let me, and i'll always be back in between these pretty thighs.”

the groan you let out was hoarse in the most feminine way. your hair was splayed out all around you, cascading down your back. with every thrust, your nipples, taut, hit the cool wood of the dresser and mirrored the smallest bit of pain you needed to leave reality. your skin was flushed and tainted with every touch and caress from billy he gave you. when he saw the blush on your cheeks, and the tears staining your long lashes — he could’ve come right then.

his girl. his pure, fucked out, sweet and scary girl. all his. a force to be reckoned with, but the prettiest sight to see. and you were all his.

however, he wasn’t through with you yet.

no. he was so mean, and he knew it — but he didn't care.

not when he had finally had you after so long.

it was right then that billy promised himself he would never neglect you for so long ever again. he knew that no one had ever touched, fucked, or loved you like he did. he knew that you never let anyone even get as close to him as you let him that night, and he would never forget that — nor would he be so careless as being ungrateful.

his girl — flushed, pink, and finally being able to know what it means to be so vulnerable with a man that she would never know an orgasm like this. he would set the fires of hell on anyone around you if it meant that you could feel this free, so wild, so yourself for the rest of your life. he knew what he had to do next.

he pulled out, and flipped you over so you were back against the wall and sitting up. he immediately stepped in between you and pushed your thighs and legs up so your calves would rest on his shoulders.

“need to feel how deep that pussy can squeeze me,” he grunted, pressing his cock into your folds.

you moaned at his words and movements, practically sand at this point. your body was numb and on fire and in water all at the same time — leaving you completely out of control. all you needed, no — craved was billy sending you over the edge. over the edge, please, over, over, over, need it billy, a pathetic mess you were, but neither of you would change it for the world.

billy began pistoning his hips into yours and you immediately leaned forward to grab onto his bulging biceps. you felt every hot breath hit your face with every thrust. the room was so hot, stuffy, humid, and yet you didn’t want it to end. all you could feel was your tight, soft walls squeezing the living hell out of billy and his beautiful cock.

“‘m gonna cum, billy,” you cried, squeezing your eyes shut.

“yeah, ‘cause you’re a good girl f’me, huh?” he bit. “always takin’ everything i give her. takes my cock so well.”

“only for you, baby,” you cried again, throwing your head back against the wall.

“oh — i don’t think so, sweetheart.” his thumb immediately went to your clit, drawing rough circles on the overstimulated rosebud. "i get to see those pretty eyes when you cum."

your body immediately went taut, sitting up. the slight shake of your limbs was apparent to both of you, and you let out little gasps because of how far you were driven from reality. his cock was pounding against that one sweet spot that made your knuckles white and your teeth bury themselves into the plump of your bottom lip.

“can’t,” you cried, tears beginning to flow once more. "oh, baby — i can't, i can't..."

“i know this pussy can handle it,” he bit. “what happened to being sweet, sugar? huh? goin’ back on your promise?”

his words were the last thing you heard before your body fell mercy to uncontrollable ecstasy. your mind, numb, was thrown back and forth between the throws of passion and the pull and push of billy’s hands bruising the flesh of your hips. you pressed your forehead to billy’s, sobbing through your gritted teeth. tears were pushing through your shut, wrinkled eyelids, and all you could hear was billy begging — coaxing that last orgasm out of you.

billy had won the fight, and he had earned every fucking orgasm he had given you that night. he needed it, he earned it, and he would not be denied it. testosterone was mixing with his blood, making his veins pound, and all he could think about how the scary and sweet girl he won a fight for was weak and needy for his touch.

desperate for a comfort that she hd only allowed him to give her.

he detached your foreheads so your faces were almost pressed together, sides of your noses touching. his lips were brushing against yours — but they weren't kissing you, no. instead, they were reminding you of exactly who you belonged to.

“sweetest fuckin’ girl i know.”

"luckiest guy in this whole thing — you get that? all fuckin' jealous of me."

“knows exactly what to do to fuckin’ please me.”

“pussy just won’t stop cumming, sugar? bet you hate me so much, huh?”

with one final pull of pleasure in your muscles, you screamed his name with a sob. a fucking sob. you were drenched in sweat, your own slick, and tears. fucking tears. they were everywhere — down your cheeks, your neck, and all over billy. your hands found the hair at the back of his neck, and you weaved your fingers through the tendrils for stability.

that was when billy’s orgasm hit him: when you were so weak you could do nothing but cling to him and cry for his touch.

the throaty groan that rumbled through his chest was unlike anything you ever heard. it was animalistic — a primal need was satisfied and everything in his body was singing at the release. he clutched your body to his and your skin warmed at the embrace. he delivered three final pumps into your puffy, pink pussy, and you couldn’t do anything besides take it. you didn't want to do anything else besides take it. the sound of his moans sent every hair on your body standing at attention and your fingers were stroking his soft skin for comfort.

“that’s it, baby,” you whispered, cockdrunk. “love when you're the only one that gets to use me like this.”

at that, he knew you'd be the death of him. he accepted it, and he was okay with it. — happy, even.

you were peppering kisses all over the side of his face as he was coming down from his high. a sleepy haze settled over his eyes, but instead he captured your lips into one final embrace.

“this is the second time this evening i’ve had my shit rocked tonight, darlin’, all because of you,” he whispered. “no dull moment with you, huh?”

“never, baby,” you whispered, letting your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned against him.

“good thing you’re mine,” he quipped, pressing a long and hard kiss to your cheek. “never could share a sweet thing like you.”

----

im buzzing after that

love u guys hehe

-L oxoxox

[strwberri-milk]

good day, author! Can I request an angst to fluff lads x reader ff where the reader was so inlove with the but they thought they love someone else. Until one day, the reader stopped and that's when they realized that it's her that they love not someone else. Sorry I know it's common and cringe but I want an angst fic 😭

ngl i really struggled to understand what was wanted here but!! i think i figured it out LMAO - i did put them all into 1 bc i just didnt see the dialogue shifting too much w what i had in my head i hope you dont mind <3

You'd never known that he was in love with you because he never acted like he was. You thought that the kindness he showed you was because he simply was that - kind. You'd never entertain the idea that he might actually have feelings for you. Sometimes you'd ask him if he was seeing anybody and he'd get a little quiet before telling you no. You don't really believe him though because whenever you'd ask him who his ideal partner is he'd get this look in his eyes you could never place before telling you that it's not something you need to worry about.

You thought that was his way of telling you he knows how you feel about him and that's how he's choosing to let you down easily. You decide that it's too difficult to be around him, telling him one day that you need to distance yourself from him. You can't admit the reason why, feeling a little humiliated by the childish way you're reacting but a big part of you simply can't help it.

You decide to push your feelings down for him, knowing that this was the only way that you could cope with the burden that is your emotions. You feel better, deciding that keeping your feelings to yourself would be the best thing to do to avoid ruining the friendship that the two of you built up so carefully. You'd never forgive yourself for losing him, telling yourself that just being beside him like this was more than enough for you.

"Why did you do that?"

You stare at the man standing on your doorstep, soaked from the rain as he stares at you intently.

"What do you mean?"

Your phone is still in hand, the message you sent him sitting on delivered.

"You can't seriously mean that, can you?"

You've never seen him like this before. You thought you'd spent enough time with him to know every emotion he's felt, to see the weight of them on his face. You could scarcely recognise the look in his eyes and your hands twitch with the need to hold his face.

"I didn't think you'd ever say something like that. Do you not know how I feel about you?"

Now his words are desperate, something you've definitely never heard from him before.

"I...I don't know what you're talking about," you mumble, averting his gaze.

"I just...I know that you have feelings for someone. I don't want to get in the way of your happiness but I'm scared that if I stay by your side I'll end up doing so by accident. I just want you to be happy."

His eyes widen slightly, shaking his head as he laughs a little bitterly.

"You really think I could feel this way about anybody but you?"

Your brain takes a moment to process what he says, staring at him.

You're about to question him, asking if he's actually serious when he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, holding you in his arms tightly.

"It's you," he mutters softly against your lips.

"It's always been you."

[papercorgiworld]

Can you forgive what he forgot?

Mattheo, Theodore and Enzo

You two break up, but then he takes a bad hit in a fight and forgets you two broke up. When he wakes up he immediately asks for you.

I loved this request, but for some reason it was a struggle to write. I battled words and phrases, but I got it written down! I must apologize. I hoped to write this for all Slytherin boys, but it was quite a big project so in the end I decided to stick with Mattheo, Theodore and Lorenzo. I hope it’s good… happy readings my sweet readers!

I. The break up

“How dare you pick a fight with my friends? How many times have I told you to just stay away from them if you don’t like them.” Your boyfriend groans and rolls his eyes. In his book you were being irrational, again. “Maybe you should hang out with better people. Maybe friends that don’t want to break us up.” He says with a stern voice, while getting off of the couch and towering over you. “What?” You yell and run a frustrated hand over your face. “Break us up? In Merlin’s name, have you been drinking? Or are you really this delusional?” He grabs your arm and drags you to his room, so the rest of the common room doesn’t get to enjoy the little show. 

“I’m delusional? You’re the one believing everyone wants to be your friend and support your relationship and let’s all have hugs for breakfast and sing happy songs by a bonfire.” You lose it at his empty argument and grab a pillow throwing it at him. “I don’t know why I keep putting up with your shit!” You yell and you can feel tears welling up. He stares at you with a stern look. “Oh don’t worry about it anymore, because this ridiculous relationship is over!” You take a step back at his loud voice and there is a long silence as you both tremble in anger. Just before your boyfriend wants to speak up you swallow and bravely look up to him. “Fine.” His eyes widen as you turn around and open the door with a shaky hand. Say anything! Make her stay! Move! Don’t let her leave! Say something! His mind rages as he feels like all air has been ripped away, but no words come. The door closes behind you and you two are no longer together, just like that. Tears roll down your cheeks as you speed walk to your dorm and by the time you get there, your now ex-boyfriend still stands in the exact same spot: silent, frozen but in just as much pain as you are.

II. The fight

Mattheo

Walking through the hallway Cedric laughs loudly with his friends, before lowering his voice a little. “Did you hear (y/n) finally broke up with that moron.” Mattheo grits his teeth as he overhears the hufflepuff, why couldn’t people just mind their own business. “How long do you guys think I should wait before I, you know, can ask her out.” His friends chuckle, before responding. “A week.” “The girl needs time, you don’t want to come off too strong.” “Nah, she’s been done with him for a long time, she just didn’t dare break up with the psycho. Really, just ask her.” Cedric nods, taking in all the different opinions. “Yeah, she was probably terrified of him. I bet he treated her like crap. She deserves so much better.” Cedric’s words hurt Mattheo, because part of him feared that you really hated being with him.

Mattheo turns and heads for the opposite direction in an attempt to avoid the confrontation, but after two steps he grits his teeth and balls up his fists. Nope. You’re not asking her out. In one sudden move Mattheo turns around, eyes dead focused on the hufflepuff who was still chatting away with his friends. With one easy spell Mattheo pulls Cedric towards him. “You should be the one terrified of me.” Cedric can barely register Mattheo’s word before a fist hits him hard, making him stumble back and reach for his bleeding nose. Mattheo grabs Mattheo’s color, but before he can throw his second punch he feels himself fly across the hallway. 

Theodore

Walking through the hallway Cedric laughs loudly with his friends, before lowering his voice a little. “Did you hear (y/n) finally broke up with that moron.” Theodore's eyes go dark as they move to find Cedric in the hallway. “Oh, they broke up? Good for her. That prick was underneath her.” Cedric nods at his friend. “I’m thinking of asking her out.” At Cedric’s words Theodore’s eyes go from dark to dead. Normally he would’ve kept his cool longer, but Theo knew you had had a crush on Cedric until third year. “You should. She looked happy this morning.” “Totally, she’s not missing his toxic ass at all.” Theodore clenches his jaw. Sure he had his issues, he was aware of that, but he never manipulated you in any way. 

Before Theo’s fully aware of it he feels himself move towards the group of friends. With dead eyes and big steps he radiates anger. His large hand lands on one guy’s shoulder firmly pulling him back so Theo now stands in front of Cedric. “I’m thinking you should start minding your own business and keep your mouth shut about my relationship.” Any other day the hufflepuff would have chosen a peaceful way out but not today. “Your relationship? There is no relationship, you broke her heart.” In a split second, Theodore’s fist meets Cedric’s jaw, making the latter fall. As Cedric scrambles up Theo pushes away the ones trying to keep him at bay and throws another punch to which Cedric quickly reacts by pulling out his wand, sending Theodore crashing into a wall.

Enzo

Lorenzo was frustrated, frustrated with you for walking out and frustrated himself for letting you. Instead of being his usual happy self he was a stormy cloud drifting around Hogwarts scowling at everyone that so much as breathed in his direction. So when an already cranky Enzo hears the laughter of Cedric and his friends he’s eyes turn furious watching the happy lot carelessly banter. However, with his focus on the hufflepuff he overhears your name. “Cedric, did you hear (y/n) is single?” Cedric’s grins. “Yeah, I plan on asking her out sometime soon. I mean I’m not that surprised that it didn’t work out, they just weren’t a good fit.” Suddenly dropping his bag, Lorenzo struts in the directions of the group. “Hey, Diggory! You know what's a good fit?” The Hufflepuff was given zero time to calculate what was coming. “Your nose and my fist!” Enzo’s words are filled with hatred as Enzo’s fist breaks Cedric’s nose, making him stumble several steps back. 

Mattheo grins, liking this Enzo way more than the happy guy he usually was, but as he watches Lorenzo ball up his fist again he sees Cedric reach for his wand, before he can warn Enzo, he’s already flying several feet up to then crash harshly onto the stone castle floors. Everyone gasps hearing the loud tut and seeing Enzo’s body laying still.

III. The hospital wing

You had heard from Blaise what had happened and how bad it was, but even though your heart ached to be with him you were his ex and thus had lost every right to be by his side. With your head resting in your hand you picked at your food. Your friends stared at you, searching for the right thing to say. You’re about to snap at them and tell them that staring is impolite, but you catch Draco approaching you and signaling you to get up. Hesitant you walk over to him. “He’s asking for you.” He looks a bit awkward, but you nod calmly and try to act composed. As soon as you walk through the doors of the great hall and you’re out of sight, you speed walk to the hospital wing. Once in front of the door you feel yourself get shaky, fearing an uncomfortable reunion after the fight. Why did he even ask for me? Does he regret breaking up with me?

Mattheo

You walk in and Dumbledore looks up at you. “Ah, miss (y/l/n). Here to check up on mister Riddle?” You nod and he smiles. “I must warn you, when he fell he hit the floor pretty hard and his memory seems to be a little foggy.” At his words the need to be by Mattheo’s side becomes urgent and your eyes search for him. The headmaster gives you a sympathetic smile and moves to the side so you see Mattheo. As Dumbledore walks by you, he turns to you one last time. “Funny things, aren’t they, memories?” Your eyebrows knit together as you watch him leave, before quickly turning towards Mattheo whose eyes were already on you.

“Princess.” Mattheo mutters with a groggy voice and a half smile, when you get closer he opens his arms. You are hesitant for a moment, but allow him to embrace you. When he lets go a little you immediately take a step back, making him frown at  your distant behavior. With gentle fingers move through his curls so you can study the bruise on the side of his face. Never liking the idea of you seeing him hurt and maybe thinking he’s weak Mattheo reaches for your hand, pulling it towards his chest to rest there. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” You shake your head at his stupid tough act. “Why did you ask for me, Matt?” His eyebrows knit together and he chuckles. “Please don’t be mad because I got in another stupid fight.” He snakes a hand to rest on your hips, gently squeezing you as a way to get you closer to him. He wants you close to him, like you always were, but you don’t budge and just frown at him.

“Please, princes. I made a bad fall, I don’t need any more attitude from you.” You cross your arms getting angry at how he pretended like everything was fine. “Please, (y/n), I promise no fights for a week.” You huff. A week, seriously, that's not even an achievement. But also not the point, Riddle. “I don’t care that you got your ass kicked. You dumped me, you can’t just expect me to come cuddle you because you’re hurt.” Mattheo looked horrified at your words. He was utterly confused. “Dumped? What are you talking about?” He moves to properly sit up on the bed and grabs your free hand, while keeping a firm grip on the hand on his chest. Something in the back of his mind was screaming at him to hold onto you tightly and make sure you didn’t leave the room. “Princess, I love you, I would never dump you.” Mattheo whispers and as he leans in to kiss you, you remember what Dumbledore had said.  He doesn’t remember that we broke up! His soft lips tenderly lock with yours, finally putting his mind at ease.

Theodore

You walk in and Dumbledore looks up at you. “Ah, miss (y/l/n). Here to check up on mister Nott?” You nod and he smiles. “I must warn you, when he fell he hit the floor pretty hard and his memory seems to be a little foggy.” At his words the need to be by Theodore’s side becomes urgent and your eyes search for him. The headmaster gives you a sympathetic smile and moves to the side so you see Theo. As Dumbledore walks by you, he turns to you one last time. “Funny things, aren’t they, memories?” Your eyebrows knit together as you watch him leave, before quickly turning towards Theodore who’s eyes were already on you.

When he notices how hesitant you are to walk towards him Theo sighs. Ever since he woke up he had this intense need to have you close to him. “(y/n), love. Don’t be mad at me. I don’t remember any of it, but I’m pretty sure Cedric deserved it.” You slowly approach him, studying the bruise near his temple. Blaise had told you how after being slammed into the wall Theodore brutally fell down, face smacking against the cold floor and the image horrified you, but seeing how painful colors covered his face made your heart squeeze in agony. “Why? Why always get into stupid fights?” You murmur and Theo stretches, almost falling out of the bed, so he can grab your hand and pull you closer. “I honestly don’t remember.” He whispers, chuckling softly, and pats on an open spot next to him, urging you to take a seat next to him. “Theo-” You sigh and look down at his hand, holding yours. “What’s wrong?” Theodore asks, fingers gently brushing your jaw as he begs for you to look at him. You snort at his stupid question. “We’re over remember, you said so. So why did you ask for me? Did you expect me to fall back into your arms just because you got into another stupid fight?” 

Theo pulls away from you and studies your face. “What are you saying? We’re over? When did I say something like that?” A heavy sigh leaves his lips and he moves the sheets aside, wanting to get out of bed and hug you. He needed to hold you. None of the things were making any sense and he kept feeling this urgent need to hold you. Your mouth drops a little at his words, but as soon as you see him try to get out of bed you stop him. “You need to rest.” You say pushing him gently. “No, I need to hold my girlfriend.” He counters and you’re sure you hear a little panic in his voice, like he really needed to hold you. “You don’t remember?” You whisper under your breath and Theo tries to make out the words you’re saying, but it was too silent so he just stares at you guessing at what’s going on inside your head. “Move aside.” You whisper and Theo complies, laying back down in the bed and relaxing when you join him. You quietly rest your head on his shoulder as your mind struggles to grasp the bizarre situation.

Enzo

You walk in and Dumbledore looks up at you. “Ah, miss (y/l/n). Here to check up on mister Berkshire?” You nod and he smiles. “I must warn you, when he fell he hit the floor pretty hard and his memory seems to be a little foggy.” At his words the need to be by Enzo’s side becomes urgent and your eyes search for him. The headmaster gives you a sympathetic smile and moves to the side so you see Lorenzo. As Dumbledore walks by you, he turns to you one last time. “Funny things, aren’t they, memories?” Your eyebrows knit together as you watch him leave, before quickly turning towards Enzo who’s eyes were already on you.

“(y/n)! Thank Salazar, you’re finally here. Please tell them that I’m fine. They want me to stay the night for supervision, but that’s just crazy.” You take a deep breath and walk towards him. “Is that why you asked me to come?” You question dryly, making Enzo frown. “No, I just missed you. I found it weird that you weren’t here by my side when I woke up. I know you’re a busy bee, but I thought at least your boyfriend deserved a little visit and maybe a massage.” Lorenzo wiggles his eyebrows at the last bid and you cross your arms giving him a stern look. “Boyfriend? Did you really think I would come back running into your arms because your dumbass got into a fight.” Enzo pushes himself off of the pillow, clearly not pleased with your words. “Yeah, boyfriend.” He grabs your arm, pulling you against the hospital bed. “What’s gotten into you? Please don’t tell me you’re picking Cedric’s side?” 

You huff and narrow your eyes at him. “Gotten into me? You told me you were done with me and-” Enzo shakes his head in confusion, while you talk, before interrupting you. “What? I’m not done with you, you’re my girl, you’ve always been the love of my life, why would you think any different?” Enzo swings his arm around your shoulder pulling you against his chest. As he places a soft kiss on your forehead you realize what Dumbledore tried to tell you. Enzo didn’t remember your break up. He still thinks we’re dating.

IV. Like it never happened 

You had tried to tell him about the fight, but his brain just couldn’t remember and neither did he believe that he would actually let you leave. After a while you just gave up on trying to convince him it really happened and gave in to his begging for affection. Cuddled up against him, you both fell asleep in the small hospital bed. The next morning you wake up first and stare at him for several minutes debating on what to do with the situation. He had broken your heart, but now he was back and you judged yourself for it, but in truth you were happy to have him back. 

When he woke up he pulled you closer and kissed you. "Good morning." He sang and in that moment you decided that you were suffering from memory loss as well. The break up did not happen.

***

Mattheo

“Can you believe that on my first day back Snape tells me to write a three page essay?” You nod, before joining your boyfriend on his bed and brushing your fingers through his hair. “It’s Snape, I think he was being nice.” You joke and he smiles, eyes admiring your every feature. “Are you here to help me or distract me?” Mattheo smirks as you again comb his hair with your fingers. “Help.” You state before pulling away from him and reaching for some of the books scattered around on his bed. However, now that you are this close to him, Snape’s essay is the last thing on the slytherin’s mind. He snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you closer against him, and you shake your head. “No, Matt, I know what you’re thinking about, but you need to finish your essay first.” You try to pull away, but he just tightens his grip and his smirk turns into a playful grin. “What am I thinking about exactly, princess?” You force your lips into a line, not giving him the satisfaction of a smile. 

“I’m not going to entertain your little game, Mattheo.” You resist his charm, but he’s persistent and pulls you into his lap. His lips brush your ear and you can’t see his smirk, but you know it’s there. Your cheeks heat up as you feel his warm breath on your skin. “Tell me, princess, what exactly am I thinking?” Your answer is censored.

Theodore

A very frustrated Theo drops two books onto the library table loud enough to make some people throw him a look, but he just ignores it falling in one of the chairs and sighing. You ruffle his hair in an attempt to calm him. “It’s only three pages.” Theodore lets his head fall to the side as he watches you sit down next to him. “He’s punishing me for missing class, but it’s not like it was my intention to lose consciousness and miss class.” You ignore his complaint and reach for the books. “Let's just get started. The sooner you’re done, the sooner we can do something fun.” Theodore watches you as you focus on the books, feeling drawn to you he leans in. “How about we do something fun first and then I’ll do this stupid essay.” A flustered smile tugs on your lips at his seductive voice. “You might’ve hit your head pretty hard, but you’re still the same boy as before.” You mutter trying to keep your cool and focus on the books in front of you. 

“Boy?” Theodore’s voice is playful, but there’s also something twisted about it. You had struck a nerve by belittling him like that. Without warning he gets up, gently wrapping his hand around your arm. You look up at him with a confused look. “Before I start on this essay there’s something more important I need to do.” You get up and follow in his step. “What’s this urgent thing you suddenly need to do?” You whisper still clueless. “You.” Thedore answers sternly before pushing you into a nearby broom closet. “Boy? Really?” He snaps at you before harshly crashing his lips onto yours in the dark confined space.

Enzo

“Will you read my essay and check for mistakes?” Enzo asks while you watch the water of the black lake. You look over at him as he reaches in his bag for the parchment. “Essay?” You question. “Yeah, Snape made me write a three page essay because I missed class yesterday. Like it was my fault, if anything Cedric should write a three page essay.” You snort, knowing full well that Enzo was the one that started the fight. He hands you the essay and you immediately dig in, scanning the words carefully. Your boyfriend can’t help but stare as you underline a few words. You looked drop dead gorgeous in the sunlight, intensly focussed on the paper in front of you. Gods, my girlfriend’s a sexy nerd.

“On second thought.” Enzo whispers in your ear, leaning closer. “Maybe that essay isn’t that important after all.” You bite your lip, feeling your face heat up at Enzo’s closeness. “How about we go for a swim?” Enzo reaches for the paper, but you don’t let go, trying to resist him. However, your boyfriend knows exactly how to get your attention and he places tender kisses under your ear, tracing down your neck before his nose brushes your cheek. “Or we could just go to my room.” His husky whisper and his soft touch turn you into a willing victim for whatever he has planned.

V. Morning memories

Your boyfriend shoots up from a nasty dream. With his heart racing he immediately looks next to him to check if you’re with him. You are. You are peacefully sleeping and he feels his body relax. His hand runs over his face and through his hair as he tries to wrap his head around what he had just dreamed or remembered. Slowly he realizes that it wasn’t just a dream, it was something that had actually happened. 

You two had a fight. You left. He felt so empty. Then there was Cedric. Next the fall. 

He can’t get his heart rate down and his brain is running wild as well, so he decides to quietly get up, careful to not wake you up. He slips into his sweatpants and leaves the room, sighing once he’s finally away from your sleeping figure. He scans the common room in search of his friends. When doesn’t spot a single one of the usual suspects he frowns and Pansy patiently waits for him to meet her eyes. Finally his eyes land on Pansy. “The rest of your boy band is out.” A smirk on her face as she shamelessly scans his bare chest. She wasn’t going to deny that you had great physical taste in men. “You look distressed.” She adds after a few seconds. The wise thing for him was to turn around, but your boyfriend is in need of a distraction as he feels himself panic, worried about the whole break up situation. 

“No stress.” He says, obviously stressed and crosses his arms. “Afraid she’ll figure out.” Pansy tilts her head slowly, eyes dangerous like she’s settling on a prey. He clenches his jaw. How does she know I suddenly remember? “She won’t. We’re back together and all is fine. There’s no need for her to know that I remember.” Pansy smirks. “Would it hurt that bad to admit you made a mistake and want her back?” 

Mattheo

“We’re happy. So why waste time on pointless arguments and apologies, she’s obviously already forgiven me.” Mattheo argues, slightly raising his voice, annoyed with Pansy. “I don’t know if she’s forgiven you for the fight, but if I were I would come clean, because if she finds out you remember you’ll have to apologize twice and big time.” Mattheo grits his teeth. “She won’t find out if you don’t tell.” Pansy licks her lips and her eyes wander over Mattheo’s shoulder. “Oh, Matt, don’t you know that things are never that simple.” 

It only takes Mattheo a second to realize that Pansy’s looking over his shoulder in the direction of his room. You had woken up and come to search for him. You had heard everything he had said. Slowly his eyes roll to the back of his head, throwing his head back a little in frustration with himself. Apologize twice and big time. He turns around, but your eyes only meet for a moment as you instantly turn around to head back to his room to get your stuff and get out. 

But this time Mattheo wasn’t going to let you go. He follows you and shuts the door behind you, locking you in his room as he rests against the door watching you grather your stuff. “I’m sorry.” He whispers with his head hanging low. “Oh, now you apologize.” You huff and Mattheo groans, pushing himself off of the door and into your direction. “Princess.” He whines and you turn around to face him with teary eyes. “Were you really going to continue lying?” You ask with a shaky voice and Mattheo sighs, reaching for your hands. “Probably.” You want to turn away from him, but he holds on tightly to your hands, squeezing them to ask you to look at him. “I’ll do anything to keep you with me. I don’t want to lose you.” You pull your hands back and try to push him away. “Everything, except being honest and apologizing?” You snap and he bites his tongue, while shutting his eyes for a second. “I let you walk away! I called our relationship ridiculous! How can an apology make up for that?! (y/n), I don’t just want you to forgive me I want you to forget just like I did, because I hate what I said, I hate that I let you walk through this door.”

His loud voice has you shaking a bit, but you stay in place in front of him and he sighs, looking at you with soft eyes. “I don’t- I honestly don’t know how you can put up with my shit? I can’t forgive myself- I really don’t get why you came back to me? So yeah, I wanted to continue pretending like none of it happened. I’m sorry.” You sigh and shake your head, eyes wandering around as you struggle with his stupid explanation. “I want you back. I love you.” Mattheo whispers with a pleading voice as he takes a small step towards you, he wants to reach for your hands but doesn’t dare to, so his fingers just softly brush yours. With an angry huff you turn away from him and his heart breaks, but then he sees you drop your stuff on his bed and turn back around to face him. “I love you too, Mattheo Riddle, and you should know by now that I love you so much that I can forgive the stupid stuff you do.” In an instant Mattheo’s smiling, almost grinning, he closes the distance between you two and his arms snake around you. A gentle hand brushes your hair as he adores your pretty face and drowns in your eyes. “You’re staying?” You nod and he cups your face kissing you intensely. 

Theodore

“Yeah, it would, Pansy.” Theodore snaps and Pansy grins looking back to him. A hard noise makes Theodore turn around to face the door of his room. “Oh, Theodore, you screwed up big time.” He turns around looking at Pansy for confirmation. “She heard everything.” Theodore hurries back to his room where you are quickly gathering your uniform so you can leave. As soon as you spot him you throw the first item at hand in his direction, but he gracefully catches it. “Twat!” You yell and Theodore sighs, dropping his head. “Why can’t you just apologize like a normal person, Theo?” Theodore walks over to you and grabs your arm forcing you to look at me. “You had already forgiven me so I thought, done is done.” You frown at his cheap argument. “Really? You wanted to take the easy way out?” Theo huffs at the accusation. “So did you by just coming back to me.” Your mouth drops, was he really turning this on you. “Well, I’m sorry for that, but your bruised dumb ass just wouldn’t believe that we broke up!” You angrily pull your arm back out of Theodore’s grasp, stumbling back a few steps. 

When you try to walk past him he takes a step to block you. You try to give him a shove, but it’s to no avail, he won’t budge. Quietly he waits for you to meet his eyes. When you do you notice how soft his eyes are. “I’m sorry, (y/n). I’m sorry I wanted to continue pretending like it didn’t happen, but I was so afraid that if you knew I remembered you would leave. If my memories were back there was no need for you to babysit me anymore and I can’t watch you leave a second time.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Theodore Nott you can be such an- an- urgh!” You were so annoyed with him you couldn’t find the words. “I’m an urgh?” Theo questions and now you're seriously considering punishing him in the face. When he sees you get angrier he grimaces at his own comment. “I know, I know, I’m a total urgh.” This seems to calm you down. “I’m sorry. I just want to forget about the break up again and I want you to forget as well, because I need you, I love you so much that I need you. I plan to grow old with you so yeah I thought pretending like the break up didn’t happen was a good idea.” You cross your arms. “It was a stupid idea.” You say with a stern voice and Theodore nods with sheepish eyes. “I know.” 

You sigh and now that you’re both calm, Theo wraps his arms around you pulling you against his chest. “Please tell me you can forgive me?” You listen to his heartbeat for a moment, before pulling away. “You’re lucky I love you. This was a total urgh move and I’m still a bit angry, but I forgive you.” Your boyfriend smiles and places a soft kiss on your forehead, before pulling your chin up with a gentle finger. “Thanks for putting up with me.” He whispers before leaning in for a passionate kiss.

Enzo

“Why would I apologize? I got her back didn’t I?” Enzo states, rather proud of himself and Pansy gives him a funny look. “That’s a bit cheap, don’t you think? Breaking up with a girl, breaking her heart and then not even apologizing for it.” Pansy offers Enzo one last chance to decide to do the right thing as you listen, quietly standing near the door of his room. “Pans, she’s never going to figure it out, this way is just easier.” Pansy facepalms. “Enz, you’re about to get your ass dumped.” Pansy sighs and points to the door of his room open. Panic fills Enzo’s face as he realizes you might have heard something and he hurries to his room. When he notices you’re switching from your pajamas into your uniform he closes the door and chuckles awkwardly. “In a hurry?” He asks and you throw him a dark scowl. Okay, she heard. I’m such an idiot. “Thinking back about what I just said, I realize that maybe it wasn’t the best approach.” You roll your eyes at his attempt at an apology, before searching his room for your shirt, which Enzo spots before you and hides behind his back. 

“Lorenzo Berkshire! Give me back my shirt!” You say with a loud and stern voice, making Enzo nervous. “Please, sweetheart give me a chance to apologize.” You cross your arms and judge him. “I thought you didn’t want to apologize?” Your voice is dripping with irony and Enzo makes an apologetic face. “Yeah, but on second thought I think I should apologize, big time.” You tilt your head and stare him right in the eyes. “I’m sorry, (y/n). I so so so am.” Enzo pleads as he walks closer to you. “I’m just so happy we’re back together and I just wanted things to stay this way. You don’t get how much I love you. I’m miserable without you and I was afraid that if I would bring up the fight- if you knew I got my memories back then maybe we would be over again and- and- I love you, please don’t leave me.” 

You open your hand, urging him to give your shirt back and Enzo drops his shoulders, but with an aching heart he does give it back. “I’m sorry for forcing you to stay.” You take your shirt and look at Lorenzo’s sad eyes. “You’re an idiot, Berkshire.” He nods. “I know. I told the love of my life that our relationship was ridiculous and then I let her leave.” You smile at him as he looks at the floor. “But I can’t help but love you.” At those words Enzo looks up at you with hopeful eyes. “Are you forgiving me?” You chuckle. “I guess so. I love you too much.” You take a step closer to him. “Too much to stay angry at you.” A bright smile forms on Enzo’s lips, while he picks you up and twirls you around. You can’t help but laugh at how silly he is and when he sets you down again he kisses you. “We’re never breaking up again, ever.” He whispers and you nod.

Dear readers, feedback is always welcome. Sending you lots of love.

[henry7931]

Bet

Will:

The two straight guys you see above are Caleb and Tristan, we are sort of friends. Although we barely have anything in common nor do we really socialize in public.

But one thing we do share in common is our group gaming night on Sundays. We play video games every Sunday for hours. And we even have teams, ‘the straights vs. the gays’. My best friend Jake and I are the gay team while the other two ‘best bros’ are the opposing straights.

We get really competitive and we will even make bets at the beginning of the night. But last night was the craziest bet so far.

The night was pretty much the same as usual, a lot of trash talking but at one point Caleb made a comment that Jake and I both thought was outlandish.

“Yo y’all gay guys have it easy,” he said to us.

I piped up and said, “how so?”

Caleb went on this tangent about how straight guys have it so tough these days and how much easier it is to be gay.

Jake and I laughed at him.

“Dude you couldn’t be gay for one day,” said Jake.

“What’s so hard for you Jake? I could easily be you for a day but you couldn’t handle being me,” says Tristan.

“Oh is that right?” says Jake.

“Yeah you wanna bet on it?” I added.

“Sure,” says Tristan.

I thought for a moment, are these guys down to do what I think?

“All four of us swap bodies. No BS, we all have to do the other ones routines, no one outside of us four can know and we have to be convincing in public that we are all each other. First one to ask to swap back loses.”

“Caleb you down bro?” asks Tristan.

“Yeah bro, this will be easy,” Caleb says with a grin.

“How much are we betting on?”

“Hmmmm…. How about $1,000 a piece.”

Jake’s eyes get wide as he hears me say the amount.

Both Tristan and Caleb grin and say, “deal.”

After hopping off, I immediately started writing down my daily stuff and everything Caleb would have to do. I made sure it was as ‘gay’ as possible. I even gave him going to a gay bar Friday which I’m sure will blow his mind lol.

So as I laid down last night, it started to hit me. I’m actually going to swap bodies with Caleb— and low key Caleb’s hot.

My mind raced thinking about what it will be like having his body. And I started to get hard from the thought.

I looked down at my slim frame and imagined what it’s going to be like with all of those muscles.

I thought about jerking off but Hell I’ll let that be Caleb’s problem in the morning.

The Next Morning:

I woke up notably in a different room, a very straight man’s room. Caleb has dirty laundry backed up into a pile in the corner, his hats stacked up on the wall, and a bunch of obscure pictures which I’m sure his ex decorated for him.

I lifted up the comforter and even Caleb knowing I was going to be in his body this morning he still slept commando.

I looked down at the bulge inside of his boxers and then down at his hairy legs and feet. His sheets have this musk that immediately filled my noise. I’m sure he doesn’t wash them enough.

Caleb’s bulge started to get hard and my first reaction was to touch it.

But instead I grabbed Caleb’s phone and called Tristan’s number. It rings for a few until I hear Tristan’s groggy voice come across.

“Will is that you?” says Tristan’s voice with Jake in control of it.

“Yeah it’s me,” I say back.

“Holy sh*t! I can’t believe that agreed to do this,” says Jake.

“I know! Have you uhhh… explored any?” I asked him.

“Fuck yeah! Tristan has some sexy feet!”

“I bet! So does Caleb,” I say wiggling his toes.

One thing about Jake and I is that we are pretty open with each other. We originally met on a gay hook up app and have only hooked up once. That night we were both so hammered that we ended up sharing all of our kinks together. Turns out both of us are into all of the same things. Feet, jocks, pits, etc. We even send dirty vids we’ve jerked off to back and forth. It’s a strange friendship but at least I know I can trust him.

“Will, you have to send me some pics! I’m hard as a rock right now!”

“Hold up, I got you bro,” I say to him.

“The way you say bro with his voice is so hot,” says Jake.

I laugh at him and pull out one of Caleb’s feet for the pic.

“Heading your way!”

“Oh my god his soles! I wanna suck on his toes so bad,” he says.

“I’d let you bro, you can suck on my toes anytime,” I say to him.

“Oh my god, keep talking like that!”

“Only if you send a pic back,” I say to him.

“One sec man I’m about to nut,” he says breathing heavy.

“Jake you’re jerking it right now?”

“Yeah man, I started before we got on the phone. Oh fuuuuuuckkk, this cock feels so… Will! Will! I’m cumming!! I’m cumming a lot!”

I’m so hard, I can’t help but join in. I pull off Caleb’s boxers and his 10” rock hard cock comes out.

“Wow it’s beautiful,” I say out loud over the phone.

“What is?” says Jake out of breath.

“Caleb’s dick, it’s like perfect.”

“Oh Tristan’s has a curve to it but it’s huge! I literally have a foot long between my legs. He needs to trim his pubes though, I’ll probably fix that here shortly,” says Jake.

I can’t speak, my focus is on the nicest dick I’ve ever seen. I run Caleb’s fingers along his sack all the way up his cock head. I feel chills…

I aggressively grab and start pumping it. I start moaning loudly.

I can hear Jake in the background saying, “dude, switch to FaceTime!!”

I’m too into the moment to put on a show. I lift up Caleb’s foot and sniff it while vigorously jerking off.

I run his tongue up and down his sole and scream out, “I’m Caleb Thomas now bitch!”

I’m so close, i wanted to go on forever. But that’s when Caleb dick literally sprays cum everywhere uncontrollably.

“Shit!”

“What?” says Jake.

“I got his cum in my eye,” I say back.

“Hahaha I’ll be over shortly!,” says Jake.

[noobsoconfusing]

nasty dog_hamzahthefantastic

gross perv sub hamzah, stalker!hamzah, raging virgin hamzah, dry humping, begging, crying, overstim kinda? weird hamzah pls dont hate

>_<

- if neediness was a person, it would be hamzah.

- if the concept of loser was personified, it would also be hamzah

- now, guess what? if being intense and a virgin at the same time could be shortened to a word, it would, oh! also be hamzah

- maybe it’s the way he’d sneakily steal glances at you from the hallways, or the way he would rush his steps to ride the elevator with you.

- though, you never really noticed his presence. it made him sad. super sad. was he not worth your time? was he not friendly enough? he thought.

- living in the same apartment complex as you made him notice many things… he was very observant! that, or maybe, he did his research just fine

- he quickly picked up on your schedule…

- you were not very social, never leaving your apartment if it was not needed, the only times he’d see you in the stairs or elevator was when you went grocery shopping

- hamzah adores to peak outside to your side of the hall from the peephole on his door

- if he’s lucky enough, he’ll catch you grabbing mail or fixing the welcome mat you have on the floor

- and he was not so discreet about it. his breathing was loud and erratic, and sometimes by the closeness of the apartments, you could hear it behind the wooden door..

- at first, he got nervous. his heart stopped when you’d pause your actions to look around, shrugging as you dismissed the situation

- ugh, it makes him so stupidly horny how clueless you are, how you never notice his long glances and the lewd gross intentions he means w them

- hamzah’s hidden album on his photos app is full of pictures and videos of you :(

- sometimes normal pictures of you entering your apartment or videos of you running up the stairs…

- the thought of you being naive made his heart flutter, it was almost endearing how his imagination could really flow with all the pictures he had taken of you doing mundane stuff ……

- he’s also the type to steal your clothes from the common dryer the apartment complex has down in the basement in the laundry area

- loves the scent of your softener, but actually loves your natural scent even more. he craves your attention and taste and wonders how soft your skin must be, how pretty you look always, how desirable your lips are to him.

- hamzah is pretty much losing common sense each time you wander his mind. or when he sees you around, he loses the ability to act normal.

- now,,, just as he is utterly lovesick, he is also fucking weird and gross

- jerks off with your underwear (the ones he steals from your laundry basket) and absolutely feels no remorse after finishing

- even after he cums a first time, he keeps going on and on until he pretty much can’t get to physically cum anymore :(

- quite literally passes out, shaking and shivering from the stimulation.. thinking of you is enough to make him want to milk his nuts dry #rip

- now, hamzah is loud. yeah, but when he thinks of you while doing it, he gets a tone or two louder. just hoping you’d hear him and magically appear inside his room to help him up :(

“y/n, y/n… please…” his head was thrown back into the pillows, eyes shut and a bead of sweat slid down forehead. “oh my god, y/n, just….yeah, just like that..”

- actually imagines his own hand is yours, it helps him finish, not quicker, but just more intense.

- spills load after load, the puddle of cum adorning his lower tummy and part of the sheets, but somehow he can’t get to stop :c not when his imagination does wonders while thinking of his pretty neighbour, you.

- when he feels like he’s getting too loud, meaning, when his common senses start kicking in, he’d shamelessly just use your previously stolen panties as a gag to muffle his moans.

- unhinged as this man is, he is also the type to clean his cum up with your underwear T_T pathetically shivering at the touch of the thin fabric against his skin, gathering the drippy fluids and smearing them up

- yeah, he knows he’s gross and weird, but somehow can’t get himself to stop.

- something about doing all that lewd stuff behind your back makes him warm inside, a crude excitement fills him up each time he touches himself to the image of you

- blushes extremely hard the morning after his doings, when he not so accidentally runs to you on the hallway

- not a single ounce of shame inside that perverted body of his…….. -_-

- there’s times when he can no longer use your belongings to cum, practically unusable after jerking off w them repeatedly #•_•

- so he opts for the pillow. just slowly thrusting his hips to gather a touch, the fluffy fabric barely in contact with his boner makes him feral

- he is so stupidly desperate is so embarrassing

“s-shit… owwww!” hamzah bit his lip down so hard he swore he drew a bit of blood, “please, please, y/n let me- fuuuck, let me cum please? can i- just..”

he doesn’t even care if nobody is listening to him let alone you, he still asks for your permission because he wants to be good so bad

- humps the pillow like it’s his last day on earth.. the squeaking of the bed gets repetitive as his movements get clumsy and fast while chasing his high

- maybe the neighbours from the floor below will finally think he got to get laid. shame is, that’s just his pillow.

- hamzah thinks a screw came loose inside his mind when he gets the sudden urge to knock on your door to make his presence known

- but not exactly to introduce himself

- his hands are sweaty and shaky when he fidgets with the lewd object between his fingers but smiles to himself as he thinks of how beautiful and precious your surprised face would be ^_^

- after knocking twice, loud enough for you and the whole damn building to hear, he runs ungodly fast back to his apartment, ready to uncover the peephole and watch your reaction

hamzah smiles when he admires how you slowly open your door with a greeting smile, one that disappears after you realise there’s nobody at the door.

your big puppy eyes get wide at the expectation of seeing someone maybe around the halls, but when you turn your head both ways and see no one, hamzah bites his lip, feeling the know inside his stomach get tight with anticipation.

god you’re so fucking pretty. so naive.

when your sight glances at the floor, your eyebrows furrow confused, you bend your knees to the ground and kneel infront of the object placed on your welcome mat. huh?

“w-what…?” you murmur, and hamzah lets out a tiny moan when your soft voice leaves your lips.

“oh my god!”

you yelp when you realise that in fact, it is your long lost panties right there in front of you! however something doesn’t sit right when you grab them from the floor…

why are they damp and sticky?

hamzah observes behind closed doors, he wishes he could just go out and admit his nasty crimes, but how could he? if he can admire you from anonymity.

how could hamzah ever show his true self to you? oh, you’re just so innocent, so blind and clueless. he loves how dirty he feels when thinking of you.

- a few days later, he makes sure to do down the laundry room at the same time as you usually do, hoping to see you there.

- to his surprise, there you are! sorting out your dirty clothes and throwing the wet items into the dryer.

- he hesitates to say hi, just a polite good morning! or maybe a damn that’s a lot of laundry! but decides to shut up.

- instead, his eyes widen in surprise when you are the one to speak up at him for the first time….

“hey, sorry to bother, could- umm, could you maybe lend me some of your detergent? please?” your eyes looked glossy and shiny and he just wanted to devour you right there

he gulped and swallowed hard. suddenly his hands started sweating abnormally. however, he put up with a gentle smile.

“sure, use as much as you need.” he passed you the bottle. your fingers brushed and while you didn’t really mind, hamzah felt like he was about to bust.

“thank you! im double washing and ran out of my own detergent, but i’ll make it up to you! thanks a lot!” you explained, and he found it so endearing how you took the time to explain even when he didn’t need an explanation.

i’ll make it up to you! your words engraved into his brain. for real. he had many, many ideas of how you could make it up to him.

“it’s fine, don’t worry, i really don’t mind sharing, hah.” he reassured you. then he swallowed hard again, getting closer to you. “why are you double washing for?” he tried to make small talk.

you stopped your actions and looked at the ground.

‘oh well, someone likes to steal my underwear and nut on it! that’s why!’ you thought. then quickly laughed it away.

“just because.” you said. “better to be clean, right?” you friendly bumped his shoulder and he giggled.

hamzah knew damn well.

“yeah, right.”

- after that interaction he a 100% couldnt keep his hands off his dick for a week straight, just thinking about the way you carelessly speak, how you move and how you exist

- he’d fantasise about you talking him through his orgasm…. he’s obsessed with your voice so fucking much.

“owww, fuck! yeah, yeah…. just… fuck, yeah thank you, thank you, thank you, y/n…”

his chest heaved with shaky breaths, he was exhausted. jerking off was exhausting when he couldn’t stop to rest, just kept going and going until his mind was blurry and could no longer even think of you.

he imagined how your pretty voice would praise him, how you’d caress his hair as he spilled over and over his hand. ugh, he was so needy.

- hamzah’s obsessive curious feelings towards you keep growing even more when you start greeting him in the halls

- or when you hold the elevator door open for him

- and he can’t help but think, that if he hadn’t cum on your panties, you would’ve never noticed him. ever.

- how cool is that? hamzah thought, very fucking cool.

>_<

i hate this BUT i had been writing this since last week i just needed to LOCK IN. bye sorry this sucks byeee

[tinytennisskirt]

I keep thinking about halloween and I know it's far away but my mind keeps wandering to boyfriend vampire art headcanons or a small blurb about you wanting him sucking your blood for the first time after you begged him to do it (you want to see what it was like) and he was so soft about it "Idk if it's a good idea, I don't wanna hurt you :(" if you wanna write something about that it would be sweet don't feel forced to

vampire boyfriend! art donaldson headcanons with a plot. mostly plot. 🧛🏻

this idea is so cute i did not do it justice but i liked it a lottt

warnings: all over the place, i wrote this while running errands teehee. mentions of blood, scratching, teeth!!! cute vampire boyfriend but a lot of nonsensical vampire stuff idk. SMUT.

MDNI 18+

- he’s so cute he’s so cute! and it’s not sooo bad the age difference. he wasn’t bitten until recently so now your favourite stanford tennis player to watch between classes when you’re bored is just a little bit paler…

- with all my love for twilight i really want to let this boy sparkle because he deserves it, but i’m going to say he’s a day-walking vampire with no sparkle just to keep appearances up.

- vampire art who can hear your heart beat just a little harder than usual when you first walk up to him. you’re pretty, he notes, too pretty. if his heart could still beat the way it used to, it would have been pounding. it’s not an off chance the two of you are finally meeting, but it feels meetcute. nervous laughter at your immediate mutual attraction fills the air. he leans against the wall behind him and you get to talking, really talking.

you start walking down the path behind the courts together. “i’m not a tennis person, but i come here between classes.”

“that’s fair. what are you in?” art asks. he wants to know everything about you.

“media stuff, boring.” you tell him. but he tells you it’s not and he has a lot to ask you about it. you get into other things. movies, music, things he likes, things you like in common. there’s so much.

- you make him forget what he is. for the most part, he hates what he is now. hates how tired it makes him look. he hates having to hide his extra strength in tennis. and now he’s met you, this delicate girl who wouldn’t be so delicate if he wasn’t who he was now. you’re gorgeous and you’re funny and he’s laughing and it slips his mind that touching you is dangerous. you have that same blood running through your veins that he is so hungry for at the end of a day.

- you ask if he wants to get coffee. he’ll be sick if he eats food like yours, but he agrees. he doesn’t know why he can’t say no to you. suddenly your number is in his phone and you have plans to meet tomorrow afternoon.

- vampire art drinks the blood of animals. he hates himself for it. he hates all of it but it’s the only way to get by now without hurting anyone. he tries to be ethical about it, tries to make it so he doesn’t feel like an animal himself, but it’s hard and it’s messy and the bathroom in his dorm is not a good place for it.

- he sits on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands just thinking about you. it’s not a vampire brood but it’s his own version, thinking about you and your conversation from earlier. he’s so into you. it’s bad. how is he going to date someone so human now? he can be friends with any human, he was one not too long ago, but to date you? fuck, it’s going to be rough. and hard to do. that is, if you let him date you. part of him hopes that after coffee, you’ll lose interest and he won’t have to worry about it.

- he orders a coffee and thank god it has a lid, he can pretend to drink it. it feels silly. you’re sitting across from him and your perfume is all you are. it’s all he can smell. it’s beautiful, smells expensive but he knows it’s just his senses making it smell stronger. you get to talking and he’s a good listener. he’s honed in on hearing you and only you, your words and your heartbeat.

you’re swirling the ice around in your drink. your heart is beating hard in your chest. it’s cute. “i actually texted the wrong number.” art admit to you. “i used a four instead of eight.”

“oh no,” you cover your smile when you laugh. he hates that. you’re too pretty to be doing that.

he smiles sheepishly, “so i said hi to some guy named mark. friendly guy, just… not you.”

“poor guy.” you grin. “missing out. should have invited him anyway.”

“should i have?” he laughs. “you’d be okay with third-wheeling?”

he makes you smile. it’s one of his great accomplishments. “i think i’d be okay.”

- he’s thinking about how he could ever kiss you, his mouth so close to you. it’s not like he had fangs or anything- he got away with slightly pointy canine teeth, nothing out of the regular, but how could he… he’s a little scared of it. and how badly he wants to.

- he takes in and remembers all of your interests, often making callbacks and you like how much he remembers the little things.

- you end up spending the afternoon with him. without anything to eat all day he’s getting hungry and it’s not a good thing. it starts making people feel like good options- an uncontrollable thought to his mind that wants absolutely nothing to do with what the machine that is vampirism tells him he wants. you two walk through the park and dusk and he’s trying not to smell you so much anymore because you just smell good. and it’s disgusting how he feels about doing something so vile to someone who doesn’t know anything.

- nothing scares you away. he walks you back to your dorm. he puts away his thoughts of blood to say goodnight properly- you deserved that. you thank him for paying for coffee and for the afternoon spent with you and you’d think he’d see it coming with the acceleration of your heart, but you kissed him goodnight. a firm, few second-long kiss. and it’s fucking perfect. and it’s sweet. and he finds himself not so worried about it- it wasn’t bad. maybe he could date you if he could kiss you. put the fact you’d become food out of his mind…

- so you do date. or go on more dates. getting friendlier, laughing over stupid things, watching him play tennis, you’re around and you’re this perfect beam of light. he really likes you. like really likes you.

- he kisses you again. this time it’s his doing, he’s practiced being gentle. he used to be gentle. he pulls you in with soft, almost perfect skin, and he’s cold. not ice cold, but cold like a person who had spent too much time in a basement, just a little chilled. but his hands barely touch your skin, he’s maybe too gentle, but the kiss is perfect.

- thing is, you ask him what you are. where this is going and if his mouth could go dry, his would. he’s shy about it. he doesn’t want to get into this but he doesn’t want out. he wants you. and after all he’s been through so far, he deserves to be happy and have something good and he’s sure that’s you. so he asks you what you want.

“i would like it if we… continued to date. i don’t know how you feel about dating, but me, personally… i would want a label.” you say, shy, like you’re afraid he’s going to reject you after all this. he’s not a player, he can’t afford to be.

“i want that too.” he smiles. “i’m not a casual… person.”

“me neither.” you smile back. you’re blushing and you’re so pretty. so it’s decided. you don’t even know you have yourself a vampire boyfriend!!!

- tennis player boyfriend is already one thing. he’s in your dorm room before games realizing he has to go, he has to go, he’s late for practice. he’s fast, so he’s not so worried, but you are. you’re worried for him. you’re kissing him all the way to the door and he’s grinning as you practically kick him out. he stays just an extra second to kiss you more. he’s getting better and better at being gentle. it’s easier when he’s well-fed.

- art is still art so he’s needy. he’s addicted to the way you smell, he’s addicted to how warm you are. he comes right back over after practice, still feeling chilled like he’s straight out of a walk-in fridge and he’s immediately on top of you, head laying on your chest while you stroke his hair. he wishes more than anything for the peace of falling asleep in your arms, it’s his favourite place to be. but he’s not so lucky.

- not eating gets harder to hide from you. you’re his girlfriend, you want dinner and how is he just going to sit with you and not eat? it’s a girls worst nightmare to eat alone. he knows that, you tell him that and you’re kissing his face and he’s apologizing for not eating with you, big grin on his face because it’s hard not to when you’re kissing his cheeks and eyes and nose and lips. it’s the first time he debates telling you what he is. but he won’t. not yet. you’re too busy complaining sweetly about him not eating with you.

“art, please, come on. i hate this.”

“im not judging you,” he laughs. “eat your food.”

“alone? so mean.”

“i’m not-“ you kiss him, “-mean. i just had food before you came over, that’s not-“ you kiss him again and he pushes you away gently, “-mean.”

“it’s so mean,” you tell him. he just laughs.

- when he kisses you, it’s almost like he’s both afraid to let go and afraid to keep you close, so it ends up a little more desperate and needy than a regular kiss would be. you’re a fan of it though, it makes your heart pound in your chest when he pulls you in by your waist, cold hands on your skin. you swear he needs his circulation checked. he kisses you, hand trailing up from your waist to the side of your jaw, gently holding you in place. his kiss over time becomes less gentle and for the sake of what his diet was, i won’t say he kissed hungrily. you kissed him back just the same, hands in his perfect blonde curls, pulling him from the entryway of your dorm room and over to your bed, the door shutting behind him. he crawls over your body and suddenly the kiss is deeper. more. and he’s been in this situation before but never like this. you’re kissing and you start kissing down his jaw, his neck. and in obscure vampire logic, he’s able to reproduce- let’s not get into the details, even stephanie meyer couldn’t explain it right- but he’s hard and he hates it because he can’t fuck you. he’d probably hurt you. it already took some effort to kiss you, fucking you was different. how did he know that what he needed now to get off wouldn’t hurt you? you’re hot, your skin is hot, and you tell him you want him and he wants you just as badly, just as desperately, but he tells you not today, but does ask if you’d take off your shorts for him. cold fingers do their work and he’s so fast… his fingers move so fast it’s almost unreal.

- you’re on the phone with your girlfriend talking about how good he is with his hands, saying you had to call her to ask if she got home from a concert okay. he doesn’t mind the lie- you’re excited about him and he loves it. he’s a little bit proud of himself if he’s honest. he’s glad he can please you without doing it all. it’s cute you called your friend. he chuckles to himself.

- like mentioned before, he almost forgets he’s not who he used to be. you don’t mind that he’s cold or that he never eats with you, you hold him just the same. you fall asleep and he wishes with all his might that he could sleep too. but he’s awake without rest, eyes closed, hands gently tracing over the skin of your upper arm. when you’re asleep is when he gets to think critically about this- about how he’s not going to age as you do. if you choose to stay with him past college, that is. he’s a needy little romantic and he doesn’t want anything else but that. he’s committed.

- he’s debating telling you around halloween. cliche, fucking perfect, but he can’t hide it forever. you’ve been together four months. doesn’t seem like much, but you’re so skeptical sometimes he swears you see through him.

- he’s sweet, pays for things, takes you places, treats you so well. but there’s something he’s keeping from you and you can feel it.

- it goes on. he’s still your perfect boyfriend it’s october 24th, his head is in your lap, your fingers in his hair and he says it straight up. tells you. what and who he is.

“for halloween?” you smile. he shakes his head no. “you have the perfect teeth for it, you wouldn’t even need to buy them.”

“y/n…” he trails, eyes meeting yours, looking up at you.

“i could be one too.” you’re still smiling. ��could be hot. let you bite me.” as if he hasn’t thought about that. potentials. but you don’t mean it.

he doesn’t know how to say it. so he just looks at you. soft eyes, begging you to believe him. but so scared that you’ll think he’s crazy or worse, be scared if you do believe him.

- for the sake of writing and for my ease let’s just say it’s believable. so you’re a little taken aback. lose the logic here, it’s an AU. your breath catches just a little. he’s afraid you’re going to run or scream or something, the way your heart picks up. he sits up from your lap, he’s looking at you, you’re breathing a little weirdly.

“i’m sorry.” he says. he’s sorry. he’s really sorry. you’re shrinking away from him and if his heart could, it would feel like it just tightened as if it was vacuum sealed. “i’m sorry, i should have told you.”

“it’s okay,” you nod. your heart is pounding, he deducts it’s not so okay. “are you- how do you- why- how?”

“bitten. late after a game. stupid, changed my life, i don’t even- it’s hard.”

“you don’t look like you’re-“

“it’s not like the movies, i’m me just… different diet and… pale.” he’s trying to be straightforward with you but it’s hard when all he wants is for this to pass over. and it’s not easy. it won’t just pass over. you have a million questions about everything and he confesses the entire truth. he hates it. he hates every second of admitting who he is. you’ve asked the same question about four times over and your heart hasn’t stopped pounding.

- art isn’t a bad guy. he’s not going to sit there and expect you to just go with it. he looks at you with his eyes soft and understanding, “i know it’s not what you wanted. or expected. i want you to know that if you leave, i understand. i like you, i really fucking like you and i want you to have what’s best and if that’s not me, that’s the easiest thing in the world to understand.” and you blink. you like him a lot. he makes you laugh, he makes you smile, but he’s something else. something potentially dangerous. you smile at him and it’s bittersweet. you tell him you need time. and he understands. he doesn’t ask you to stay, he grabs your bag and your sweater for you and you say you’ll talk to him soon. it’s with a heavy heart that he says goodbye to you. he knows the chances of you coming back are slim. you didn’t run from his dorm, but your pace wasn’t slow.

- he wished he could sleep this off. this feeling. he wished he hadn’t said anything but on the other hand, it wasn’t fair to you to pretend he was something he wasn’t so you’d stay. he wanted good things for you. and it was completely fair that you walked away. he thinks about you day in, day out, during tennis, during classes. but he’s got forever to find someone else, he just has to let this pass over him.

- you text him, say you’re coming over. and he’s at the door before you even knock, he heard you coming. “i’m sorry- i just-“ he’s excited but he’s afraid. too excited to see you back here- why are you there? “hi.” he’s so cute, standing in his doorway. he’s wondering if it’s wrong to think of you the way he did two weeks ago. he wasn’t clear on if you’d broken up with him or not.

“hi,” you reply. “can i come in?”

he’s nodding, moving out of the way for you to come in. you sit on his bed. “i didn’t expect you to-“

“come back? neither did i…” you replied. “but i was so… empty, i just- i miss you more than i seem to care about what- who you are. and it’s been killing me.” you admit, almost a little whiny and he’s glad to hear it. “i missed you.”

“i missed you too,” he says, shutting his door behind him. “a lot.”

you tuck your hair behind your ears, “i know everything, i just… how much does this affect everything?”

“only as much as you let it,” he says candidly. “i don’t eat regular food and i can’t have children.”

“what about garlic?” you almost smiled. he missed that. god, he missed you. so fucking much.

“i can have garlic.” he chuckled, stepping closer to where you were sitting. you pat the space beside you and he sat down next to you, thigh to thigh. “i don’t want to scare you.” he says. “i don’t want to hurt you. and i don’t want to leave you.”

“i don’t want that either,” you nod, eyebrows furrowed. “if i stay- am i in danger?”

“i wouldn’t ever hurt you.” he nods back. “it’s animals only. only. strictly. and i brush my teeth fourteen times after.”

“okay.” you reply. “art, i want you. you.”

“i’m not going anywhere.”

“i’m sorry about the two weeks-“

“don’t be.”

“i really am, i just needed-“

“it’s okay.”

“i was trying to wrap my head around-“ he kissed you to shut you up. he was so glad for it. so glad you kissed him back, it was all he thought about when the nights were empty and quiet. you, how warm you were, how good you smelled.

- vampire boyfriend!!!! it’s almost ignorable. you have a reason why he doesn’t eat with you, you know why he’s cold, it’s more reason to keep your arms around him. you can’t brag about it, but it’s a fun little secret so it’s sooo worth it. and it’s hot. you don’t want to admit it, but it’s hot. you’d always admired how sharp his teeth were, it was cute, like a cat. but he had a reason for it and you were finding it hot. your search history was

biting kink

blood kink

vampire smut

that isn’t you!!! but you were curious that’s all. And you like his teeth a lot.

- he’s so pretty and he’s so skilled in making you feel good. he won’t let you do anything to him, swears to god the best thing for him is what he can do for you. you’re making out and his hand slips between your legs, down your underwear, they’re cold but they don’t feel that way after a while. he’s fast, it feels like some sort of toy, it’s too good. you are forever glad you didn’t walk away and never return. you’d miss the proud smile on his face when he makes you finish three times in a night.

- it takes a while for art to do the simple task of kissing your neck. it’s not so simple, it scares him still. but the thing is, the moment his lips are on your jaw, your whole body has goosebumps and you don’t expect it to feel as good as it does. maybe you spent too much time on the internet, maybe you were developing some sort of feeling about it. he kissed gently, close-mouthed down your neck, feeling your body tense and your heart beat hard and fast in your chest. he hasn’t done anything else, he’s only kissing your neck, but what you’re into is a major turn on for him, so he continues. he likes nothing more than it as he continues.

- it gets worse. you’re together almost a year now and it’s going so well but if art touches your neck whatsoever, you’re making out against some wall in some cupboard and you’re begging him to fuck you.

“please, please, please,” you’re on top of him in your dorm room and he’s saying no, but he doesn’t want to. it’s not like your begging is a pressure on him, believe it, he wants you so fucking badly.

“i want you so badly, i can’t- i could hurt you.”

“what if i like it?” you whisper between kisses. your hand down the front of his pants, he’s groaning into your mouth, he doesn’t usually let you do what you want but it’s getting harder and harder to not.

“like it?”

“i want it.” you tell him. “please.”

“i can’t-“ he’s raising his hips to meet your hand as you move it up and down his length. “i want to, i really fucking want to, more than anything, but i can’t. i don’t- i haven’t-“

“we can go slow. i’ll go slow, let me do the work, please?”

he wants it. the imagery in his mind is already killing him. “i promised to be gentle, i could grab you too hard or i could bite, i don’t know what i’ll do, i don’t trust myself.”

“you bite?” you giggled a little, as if the idea wasn’t a little intriguing. as if it wasn’t hot.

he grinned back, kissing you again, “i’m not sure.”

“you don’t… touch… yourself?”

“no, i do, believe me, i do, but it’s different, i can’t hurt myself- fuck-“ he’s trying to get his words out but your hand is good. your hand is perfect. “i could hurt you.”

“what if i want that?”

“me to hurt you?”

“what if i don’t mind it? i don’t mind bruises, art, just don’t break my bones.”

“i wouldn’t- i don’t know if i would or not, that’s what i’m afraid of.”

“and everything you’ve been afraid of,” you pick up the pace of which you stroke him. “has it turned out okay?”

he groans into your open mouth, nodding slightly, soft eyes meeting yours. “mhm.”

“mhm.” you nod back. “you can hurt me, art.” he moans louder. loudest. “i can take it.”

- another few months go by without. he’s taken to letting you grind on him. it’s practice, he says, but really he just finds it hot. you, your little skirts, making it fun for him. but you can’t stop thinking about you fucking him and frankly neither can he. the romance continues.

- he brings you roses on a whim. it’s cute. he knows you like them. he gets the dark red ones for you.

- he’s fast, he can be to McDonalds and back in only a few minutes depending on the speed they make their food. you call him, you mention it once and he brings it to you. and every time, sweet boy, he apologizes for not being able to eat with you.

- he’s so into you. this is it for him, he’s sure. you’re the perfect mix of everything and you share so many interests. you’re kind and sweet and funny and you get him. and understand him entirely. he could not care less when other girls talk to him. usually the first words he says to anyone is something casual about his girlfriend. ‘sorry i’m late, i was at my girlfriend’s debate’, and other things of the sort. he’s cute like that, but annoying to a few other people.

- loses his mind if you hold his face in any way, it’s actually one of the things that makes him think fucking you might be something he could do. you cup his face and he looks at you with those puppy eyes and your thumb grazes over his lower lip and he’s kissing you like he’s not scared. you’re in his arms, he picks you up, crawls over you on the bed. his first instinct is to kiss your neck to drive you as crazy as he is and it’s only a matter of time before you’re begging him again.

“please, art.”

“i want you so fucking badly,” he mumbles, cold hands desperate over the skin of your waist. “i do, i’m sorry.”

“don’t be sorry. fuck me.”

“i can’t. you know i can’t-“ but your hand down his pants is wearing him down already.

“it’s been more than a year. art, it’s okay. it’s no different than grinding.”

“it’s different,” he tells you, he’d be blushing if he could. “come on.”

“come on what?” you grin, stroking him harder. his breath catches for a moment, but he grins back at you. “art. it’s okay. you don’t need to be so afraid, i promise i can take it.”

“and what if you can’t?”

“then we tried.”

“you won’t say that if i hurt you.”

“if you hurt me it’ll be my own fault.” you tell him sternly. “i’ll be in control, i’ll go my own pace, you just lay back, it’ll be good. i promise, you don’t need to be afraid.”

“baby…” his hands on your waist.

“let me.” you say. “with your consent.”

“i said i wouldn’t hurt you… there’s no guarantee-“

“it’s no different than the grinding. i promise.” you begin to slide your shorts off, eyes locking with his. “if not, that’s okay, but i just- i know you won’t hurt me.”

“if i do?”

“i’ll take it.” you tell him. he’s consumed by his own lust. his worries slowly fading out. “let me fuck you, mhm?”

his pants at his ankles, he’s turning slowly onto his back. you climb over him, kissing him hard. the sharp of his tooth grazes your lip and the violence begins. he groans as your hand slides over his own neck, kissing him.

“slow,” he says. and you nod, slowing the way you’re kissing, your hand moving to cup his face in a kiss. you’re everything, how can he resist what he wants so badly? you’re perfect and you smell good and you’re kissing him sickeningly slow and it’s almost sweet. “please.”

“you’re saying yes?”

“yes.” he swallows hard.

“i didn’t pressure you?”

“no, i want it so fucking badly, you have no idea,” he smiles, kissing you again. there’s no escape. “i want you. just… slowly.” he pushes your hair behind his ear. “you’ll tell me if i’m hurting you.”

“maybe,” you grin.

“hey-“

“i will.” you nod. “can i?”

“slowly.”

you looked at him, nodding slowly again, reaching down under him. he was trusting you, he was holding you to this. the tip of his dick slipping against your entrance. it was unreal, it was real, it was cold but it wouldn’t be for long. he inhaled sharply and you kissed you. he was a little pathetic, the way he acted as you slowly, extremely slowly, sank down on him. it was ends meeting, it was waited for. the sound he made was one he didn’t think he’d make, but you were all he’d been wanting. he could have finished right there and then, just at the feeling of you. warm, tight.

- vampire art, with vampiric tendencies, digs his fingers so hard into you that you were sure it would bruise. it hurt in the best way. you moved slowly, up and down, a pace that didn’t scare him. he felt so good, so perfect.

- he’s surprisingly melting under your touch as you slowly ride him. it’s how he is. somewhere towing the line between himself a little bit submissive. he’s letting you, he’s trying to be unafraid, letting himself get lost in how you feel. you’re close, neck kissing distance. his hand slips around the back of your neck and he kissed the exposed skin. you moaned, going slightly faster and he braced your hips, wary. too wary. but he let you continue to rock.

- he controls your hips, rocking you back and forth a little more as he gets a little less scared. and he’s kissing your neck, moaning against it. open mouth, sharp teeth grazing your neck and he isn’t even aware of it. it hurts, its natural, he’s hurting you but it’s not as bad as you thought. his lips send goosebumps over your skin, he’s not aware, he’s lost in the way you’re fucking him. he’s letting you go faster, harder, you’re both moaning. he’s close already. you don’t mind that at all.

- vampire art, poor boy, he’s coming undone already. it’s a little pathetic but in the best way. hes being fucked so good, the way he’s imagined the past year- he’s not aware of his teeth and the reality that he could bite you is too real, when it was only half a joke. he could bite you, he could, he wants to, you want him to, it hurts.

- “please,” you mumble, and he’s suddenly too aware of what he’s been doing and he’s suddenly terrified. he doesn’t want to hurt you, he’s been doing it unconsciously.

“oh fuck-“ he tries to pull away, but it’s his downfall, he finishes hard, too fucking hard and he’s pathetic, melting under you, moaning and grabbing you so hard it hurts and you’re close to follow suit, your hand down between the two of you working your clit. your hand moves at his squirming and you forfeit your orgasm as he finishes so pretty. he makes the prettiest sounds, loud and the people in the dorm next to yours must fucking hate you. he was breathing hard, his lips pink, still in a state of desperation. “no- nonononono,”

you slowed to an immediate stop for him. “hey, what’s wrong?”

“your neck, my teeth, fuck- i’m sorry,” his chest still rose and fell, his cum leaking from between you both. “i’m so sorry-i-“ nervous boy. nervous vampire boyfriend!!!

- he takes to your comfort the moment you grab his face and tell him it’s fine. you like it. you want it. his scared eyes soften out again. if that was all the damage done, no blood drawn, it was successful. you liked it. it was more than good. so fucking good.

- you take care of him until he calms down entirely. you soothe him by holding him close, a wet cloth against the scratches on your neck. he’s the kind to apologize softly. he’s always apologetic, he’s good at it. you kiss his temple, stroke through his curls. you can go without finishing. the ratio of his orgasms to yours were uncountably inbalanced.

- after that you end up practicing more. calling it ‘practice’, it’s just sex. it’s good sex. he worships you like you’re the immortal being. he learns to be gentle. doesn’t help that don’t want him to be. it’s another year of being together and you throw it at him. “bite me.”

“hm?” he looks up from tying his laces, his hat on backwards, all cute.

“bite me.” you stand above him, he rises to his feet, arms wrapping gently around your waist. “it’s been two years and i’m not going anywhere. i want you to do it.”

“you don’t want it.” he tells you, swaying into the hug. “i promise.”

“i know. but it’s my choice.”

“it is your choice but it’s also mine if i choose to bite you. i want you and i know you’re not going anywhere, i dont need to make you the way i am just to say that.”

you shake your head, “bite me. or no sex.”

he just grins and shakes his head, “nice try.”

“think about it.”

he nods again, “okay. i will. i promise.”

- it’s another year before it happens. vampire boyfriend is scared of doing it, what if something goes wrong? what if you hate him for it? what if, what if… you make him nervous. you want him, he knows it. more ways than one it would be nice to not have to worry about biting you when you fuck.

- he works up the courage to take the risk and he comes to yours around 11:30pm. you’re up, you were just finishing an assignment. you greet him with a kiss and a long hug. he needs it. he’s never not in need of it. he wants to cry, he wishes he still could. he feels like it because he knows what you want isn’t good but you want it and he wants you do some part of it feels right. and okay. he tells you what he’s thinking and you take all of it in. but you nod.

“i don’t want to hurt you.” he says.

“it’s going to hurt. i’ve told you before i can take it.”

he shakes his head, “and what if i can’t?”

“i’ll heal.”

“baby… “ he almost sits at your feet the way he’s talking to you.

“it’ll be okay. you can hurt me. it’ll be worth it when you’re stuck with me forever.” you smile and he smiles back.

- he can do it. and you kiss him. which is the first step. the second is triggering his weakness, cupping his face. and suddenly he’s on you. and you’re undressing and it’s messy and it’s harsh and it’s sloppy.

- art is usually very sexually calculated he knows what is needed and he does it and he’s fucking perfect at it, but this is messy and desperate and hot and not even he wants to have any sort of control. he just knows what’s going to happen is going to happen. you’ve never been more turned on with anticipation. for the first time- even though it sounds bad, art is on top. he doesn’t need you in control at the moment, he’s fucking into you and it’s hard but not too hard that it could cause harm- it’s good. and it’s got, and you’re kissing him through harsh, sharp breaths and there’s no time to be wasted. he’s ramming into you with a force you didn’t know he possessed that is also so contained. you wished it wasn’t. And his lips graze your neck. you moan, that familiar shiver of pleasure rippling over your body. his body, thrusting, the movement making for perfect friction. he kisses your neck gently, and you feel his teeth graze your neck.

- he’s fucking you but his emotions are strong and he’s rethinking but this is it. he said he would. his hand reaches down to play with your clit as he fucks you, his attention to three places at once is enough to drive you crazy. you’re waiting, skin hot against his, and you don’t expect to like the way it hurts so fucking badly when he sinks his teeth in. pain mixes with pleasure, sharp teeth in your skin. his lips catch any blood, taking it in. it’s good, it’s too good. he keeps his teeth in long enough for him to feel whatever it is that would change you seep into your bloodstream. you’re moaning when he expected a scream and it’s hot. it’s too hot for him. his teeth slowly come out and the wound heals over near-immediately, but it doesn’t stop him from kissing your neck again a million times, new scars instantly formed. you kiss him harder than you ever had, feeling your skin start to burn pleasantly, warm like the feel of being close to an oven on a cold day. and his hand working, his dick sliding in and out, you finish simultaneously, almost.

- he rides out the high. and before cleaning anything he’s checking if you’re okay. you’re blissed out. gone. and he’s watching as you grow paler the next few hours in his arms. you’re telling him he did such a good job. so good. and you fall asleep for the last time. changed.