#lower moon six

[character-reference-cafe]

(Former) Lowermoon 6 Kyogai (Faces)

[lethality-of-dual-strike]

still obsessed with FOP but i wanted to give some of my other fandoms some love <3 was THIS close to doing danny phantom instead of ben 10 but alas. couldnt decide who to draw.

although i am seeing a vague pattern with ships that i enjoy,,,,

[mumblelard]

thank you for your service, fiskars eight inch non-stick titanium softgrip scissors

you lived, ready-to-hand, in the hone slot of my knife block and together, for the last six years and seventy five days, we have opened bags and boxes, snipped ties and tape, shaped paper and cloth. sometimes though, i asked more of you, we trimmed the woody stems of herbs, we pruned the branches of plants, and as your final task, we cut through the rib cage of a spatchcocking spring chicken. i tried to repair your broken handle, but it was not to be. for now your slot sits empty. you will be missed

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and psycho. This part- Heavy angst, SO MUCH angst actually, mentions of pregnancy, potential health issues, emotional sex/lovemaking- oral (m and f recieiving) violence, and more angst. WC this part- 6.6k

The next two parts will be the alternate endings <3 Plz share/comment/ like if you enjoy( is that the right word though)

<<<Part Three - Playlist - Masterlist - Part five (Sad end) - Part six (soon)

Part four

One more day.

One more day before Suguru leaves.

You’ve avoided him the entirety of the week, so terrified of him - not to mention he’s got you locked up for most of it, a barrier around the manor so you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. When he allows you around with the girls, you start to feel this overwhelming sadness, not just for everyone to be killed, hurt, destroyed… but he also has two girls that look up to him like he’s hung the moon in the sky.

All they do is gush about him constantly, Suguru this and Suguru that, their eyes all lit up as they do, does he even think of the possibility he won’t return? The plan is for the girls, you, and a select few people for your protection stay, while he leaves tomorrow to potentially never come back again, or just as bad, accomplish his fucking goals. Then how could you look at him again?

You know what he’s already done - but this is to the point there is no return. Suguru has refused to even speak to you hardly, until he summons a doctor today, and now instead of perhaps going to a doctor’s office, you’re in a small little room, the little heart rate machine intimidating. Suguru stands off against the wall, granting you space, while the doctor frowns in concern while doing your vitals.

“Your blood pressure is too high, and your heart rate is through the roof. Are you under any stress?” You damn near laugh, looking at Suguru then, who can’t even stand to meet your gaze.

“You could say that.” You answer quietly.

“At these vitals, you can’t healthily have a baby.” Your heart pounds even faster, when Suguru’s hand comes to your shoulder, finally tilting your chin up to look at him.

“Try to calm your breathing.” He murmurs, you can’t though, how can you.

“Take a deep breath.” The doctor orders, you shut your eyes and try to do just that, trying to regulate some, as the cuff squeezes again, and you hear the doctor sigh. “Still far, far too high… alright, let’s see if there is a heartbeat.”

You lay down nervously on your back, when the doctor lifts up the shirt that you’re wearing, brushing cold metal against your skin.

“How long do you think?”

“Maybe five weeks.” He nods now, dipping the wand lower, and then you hear it, loud and clear, a little heartbeat. “Oh my…”

“There it is, it’s a little quick hmm.” He’s measuring the beats now, as Suguru feels everything around him shift.

Your eyes fill with tears, hand fluttering to your tummy, taking several breaths to calm yourself as you look at him for a moment. You’re terrified, he can see it in your gaze, not what he wants you to feel, to be, he has images of him and you together, holding your baby in your arms, but what if he couldn’t? What if he…

He bites back his emotions, clearing his throat now. “You’re pregnant.”

“Yes.” Your tone is flat, while your mind runs a million miles a minute, your own images vastly different from Suguru’s.

All you can see or feel is destruction looming.

When the two of you quietly walk back through the halls, you pause at the door to your room, eyes looking up at your husband. “Locking me in all night, right?”

“As if you want to see me. You haven’t even spoken to me until today.” You bite a trembling lip, looking down now. “You’re having my baby.”

“Will they even know you?” Suguru cups your face now, lips in a tense line, aching to touch you, fuck to hold you, but he knows you’re disgusted by him right now.

“You really think I’m weak, should I show you how powerful I am?” You scoff, shaking your head at him.

“It’s just like you, to flaunt your power, isn’t it?” He raises a dark brow at you, when you smack his hand off. “You won’t choose me or the baby, so don’t expect me to make this easier for you.”

“You will see, it’s better for everyone. Everything.” He’s cupping your face with both hands now, stepping you into your room, what’s been your prison for the week, until he’s leaning down, lips a breath away. “You don’t see my vision.”

“I see insanity.” You shove him off, his heavy breath breaking you, pulling you back against him, making you weak. “I see someone who’s so far into his own bullshit, that he doesn’t see what anything is.”

“Fuck you, you’re still such a mean little bitch.” He angrily kisses you, earning your teeth biting his lower lip, tearing the skin as you do.

“Fuck you, psycho.” He laughs darkly, blood dripping across his lower lip, swiping at it with his thumb.

“Your heart rate is probably high, huh?”

“It always is. It comes with having a batshit crazy husband who wants to fucking kill everyone. Our parents even!? The baby’s family!”

“Shh, stop.” He’s got you by the shoulders, but you’re too far gone.

“How can I be happy, how can I be a mom like this? When all I can do is see the death that you bring.”

“You won’t trust me. I’ll keep you safe.” He’s kissing you again, for a moment you let go, lips you miss, a body you crave, his energy filling you and making you drink every bit of him up, blood smearing and tasting like copper on your tongues. “Fuck…”

“No, we won’t.” You gasp and pull back.

How can you love a fucking monster.

“You’ll dine with me tonight, wife, do you understand?” You roll your eyes at him, looking away now. “Answer me, brat.”

“Fine. I’ll be there, Lord Geto.” He sighs, for once the two of you had something… close to not hate, but here you were, again.

“Wear the yukata I send up.” You roll your eyes.

“What choice do I have?”

Suguru has never really given you one.

******

You sit across the insanely long banquet table that night later on, donned in the elegant robes he’s bought you, hair done up with butterfly pins, a stain of red on your lips. You drive him to insanity with your beauty, the earrings dangling and reflecting lights that spread across your skin, while the soft chandelier lighting just illuminates your beautiful body.

You are quiet as can be, sipping on your water, while Suguru has red wine in his golden goblet. “So, husband, what did you need me here for?’

Your audacious ask makes Suguru tense, gripping the step of his goblet so tightly he could crush it. “Ever think I… enjoy your presence?”

“Hah … no.” You earn his scowl - good - better his scowl than you to feel more for him, for a ticking time bomb of a man you should hate.

Your heart races in your chest as he stands then, striding with those long legs across the room, yanking you up then by your wrist. “Stop pretending.”

“You stop pretending, as if you could care.” Suguru glares deeper now, hands dancing across your body, watching your nipples press against your robes, his thumb brushes one, earning your traitorous whimper.

“Your body reveals all your lies.” You smack at him, expecting a smack right back, but instead he just lifts you up on the banquet table, standing between your thighs, slipping up the robe bit by bit to reveal the lacy stockings you’re wearing. “God, look at you.”

“Pathetic, right? A mo-”

“So fucking perfect.”

“No!” You’re shaking when he kisses you, inhaling and exhaling faster and faster as the desperation tears you both apart. “No. Stop making me… feel this.”

“Feel what, hatred?” He nips your lower lip with his teeth, you wish you did, fuck you wish you did.

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

“Fuck you.” He’s picking you up, as a groom would a bride, it’s too intimate, it’s just too much, truly, you wriggle but he keeps you close against him, fingers pressing into your flesh, burning you.

Suguru burns you.

“Where are we going, tossing me in my room?”

“You’re spending this night in my chambers.” You gasp, and in moments you’re being carried past the curious eyes of many, staring at the sorcerer who hates humans so much, delicately holding you this way.

“I refuse. What’s the purpose, who knows if I can keep an heir with this as my life, anyway.” Your words stab him as much as they stab your own heart, when he settles you down, locking his door with a resounding click, the incense burning still on his black side table filling your lungs, as you back away, he’s just walking forward.

“Do not say that.” His broken voice makes you choke up, his perfect features for once soft, vulnerable, his hand touching your tummy. “I heard the heartbeat.”

“Racing.” He looks at your achingly beautiful face, destroying him bit by bit.

He lets out a shaky breath, cupping your face gently, something Suguru Geto just did not do. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark with pupils dilated, glimmering with something you would almost think were tears, but there was no way, was there? No way that Suguru Geto could truly feel, not this cult leader who has lost his mind, who you’re clinging to just glimpses of currently.

His breath ghosts across your sore, bitten lips, thumb swiping away a tear that falls without you truly knowing, brushing the salty tear across the apple of your cheek, his other hand drifting down your back. It’s too intimate, it’s too sweet of a way to touch you, causing you to break apart piece by piece, hands that had clutched to fists on his robes releasing their grip, your head tilting down.

“Don’t do this, Suguru.” Your words strike him like a stab to the chest, your teary eyes looking back up at him, hair falling softly to the side, brushing against his arm softly, while he pulls you closer.

“There’s a good chance Satoru will kill me.” His words are flat, matter of fact, as if you’re having a conversation about tea, not murder. Your heart thuds in your chest as he speaks. “I may not come back.”

“You’re choosing this, instead of me. Instead of us.” Your hand goes to your tummy this time, vivid images of it growing in his mind, of seeing your glow, seeing a smile, and not the pain that he brings instead.

If he wasn’t so selfish, he’d let you escape.

“I’ll make sure you and the baby are taken care of, if I don’t return. I have things set in place-”

“No, no! You think they won’t kill me without the connection of being your wife?” You’re pulling away, but Suguru is dragging you back against his chest, sighing, brows drawing together while the girl he loves looks so hopeless.

“I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“Just choose me. Choose us. Stop this madness, it’s not who you are-”

“You do not know me.” His dark tone takes over, earning you shoving at his chest, turning away, only for him to drag you back against him, pressing your back against his hard frame, an arm coming around to wrap you tighter.

“You won’t let me, you won’t let anyone. I miss my family, I miss my friends, yet you keep me trapped here, and now you won’t even choose me?”

“I would choose you, over anyone. You’re… beautiful-”

“No. Do not.” You’re wriggling in his hold, as his big palm presses against your tummy now, and you’re sniffling tears of fury, chest heaving when he turns your face towards him, hand gripping your face even tighter.

“You are. Allow me this night with you, even if it’s just me drinking all of you up.” Your sobs make you shaky, when he grips you right between your thighs, pressing up against your heat, eliciting a whine he shouldn’t deserve.

“Allow what, you to fuck me before you go on a murder rampage!?”

“No. Allow me to do what I should have with you.” He turns you now, picking you up like it’s nothing despite your struggling, gently lowering you on the bed, watching you avidly as his fingers trail down the silk brocade of your robes. “Allow me to worship you for tonight.”

“Worship a human? Before you end us all?” Your hesitation waivers with every moment that Suguru lays on you, every gentle brush of his rough fingertips on your skin, while violet eyes grow deeper, more vulnerable. For a moment you see it, you see him, the dream that you believe in so foolishly.

“I will never end you. You are my only exception.” His whisper breaks you into pieces, his hand unknotting the ties of your obi, letting that purple silk fall against the bed with a whisper, baring a breast as he presses the material apart.

“Exception?” Your little breathy voice ignites too much in him, his lips hovering over yours, while his thumb brushes a sensitive peak, heat pooling in your tummy so unwillingly, fingers itching to entangle in his silken raven locks.

“You’re the exception.” He repeats, hand gripping a breast now, squishing in his huge hands, eliciting the cry from your pretty lips, as he instead wishes to say more.

That he’s fallen.

But how can he ever truly love someone?

If he did- he’d let you go, not take such liberties he knows he does not truly deserve from you. “It’s your choice, if you want to share this last night with me.”

“Oh I get a choice in something now?” Your words hurt, but they’re true, as your own hand slips to your robe, parting it fully and revealing your gorgeous body to his fiery gaze, making Suguru falter. “One last time then.”

“One last time.” Suguru growls softly, then his lips slam on yours, sucking up all of your oxygen, taking over everything you are and everything you have been, in that moment, you decide to just forget, to lose yourself in him. “Let me show you everything I should have.”

“Suguru…” He’s shushing you, kissing down your throat too sweetly, lapping at your collarbone with a light flick, as his hands explore more of your body, the robe strewn under you like a blanket, as he works his journey to your breasts. “Just… just fuck me okay…”

“No. Not tonight.” Your back arches when he sucks a breast into his hot mouth, tongue flicking your nipple, the peak tightening against his taste buds. Your hands do give in, entangling in his locks, as you feel your resolve weakening. “Beautiful. Perfect.”

“Don’t… you’ll just hurt me more.” Your emotions catch in your throat, when he leans up, cupping your face.

“It’s the truth, I will speak about it tonight.” Your lips are taken over again, less gentle and more fiercely, while Suguru’s hand trails down your waist, your hip, his heavy weight pressing on you. “You feel perfect.”

“Shh.” Your lips try to hush him, your hands slipping down to grab his cock, stroking it, but he grips your hand, kissing down your body, between your breasts and lower, breath making your hips buck when he’s right over the hood of your clit.

“Should be worshipped.” His murmurs, sending shock waves through your body when he hungrily kisses your thighs, higher and higher, fingers pressing into the plush of them, gripping and squeezing, leaving marks you wish would just stay forever. “Wanted to kiss every inch of you.”

“No…” He chuckles without humor, teeth gently nipping your thigh now, looking up at you under dark, long lashes, cheeks flushed from the pressure rising.

“Yes. I always have.” You shake your head once more, while he’s kissing up your other thigh, so hungry, so ready, and you feel yourself let go, for once with him fully, if this is the last time you have this hungry, damaged, beautiful man, you’re going to have him.

He’s swiping his tongue up your slit, and instead of tensing, closing your thighs as you did, telling him to just stop, you do what you’ve longed to, pulling his face against your cunt and grinding your hips up. He moans, realizing you’re letting go, you’re pulling his hair so hard at the root, letting out wanton, loud moans you’d usually cover up.

Suguru loses himself drinking every bit of you up, eyeing your perfect body under his lashes as he fucks his tongue inside your snug walls, moaning against you as he watches you unleash. Ways he could never see you, always holding back, and he supposes he held back too, why wouldn’t you? But you’re screaming his name out when he glides two fingers in your soppy little hole, flicking his tongue on your clit now.

“That’s it, fuck my face Princess.” Princess, you could swear you dreamed Suguru said that once, you blink in confusion at him, pausing, while the squelching sound of your greedy cunt around his sure fingers fills his room.

“Princess?” He sighs, realizing it’s slipped out, but for once he does not hide it, behind some cruel jab at you. He may never touch you again, if he survives this or not, and he can’t spare a moment.

“Princess, please.” Suguru saying please!? You’re gulping down words you ache to say ‘Suguru I love you’ ‘pick me please’ ‘more, more, more’ and simply nod, doing just that, grinding your eager, soppy cunt all over your sorcerer’s perfect features.

Fuck.

You both think it in your heads, that you can’t get enough of his mouth, his tongue fucking into you as his nose bumps your little twitchy clit, the obscene sounds of him drinking the arousal that starts to pour all over. His fingers replace his tongue inside you, his tongue flicking your clit faster, when his hand presses firmly on your tummy. You’re screaming out while your hips roll, dragging him even closer.

“There, there, f-fuck!” Everything is shattering around you while he flicks you over and over again, working you and pushing you to the edge, watching you topple over with those eyes of his, devouring your body every bit as much as his tongue lapped at your glistening folds.

He pulls his fingers out after feeling your walls flutter around them sucking them and moaning. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Don’t…” Suguru slips back up your body, heavy weight pressing down on you, while you untie his robe eagerly, kissing yourself off him. “Fuck it.”

“Fuck… what-” You cut him off, flipping the two of your positions, shocking him for a moment, while you untie that knot fully, revealing a chiseled body you’ve longed to worship and never let yourself. His lips part while he brushes your hair back, and you’re kissing down his chest, while he murmurs your name.

“If this is the last time, then I’ll do what I want.” Suguru’s strong muscles tense when you kiss lower, and his hands entangle in your locks, shaky breaths releasing as you’re lapping at the line of hair above his pretty cock, which you reveal with a gentle tug.

“You want to suck me, Princess?” He asks, in shock, the few times you have, he’d shoved his cock in your mouth, forcefully and brutally, and you’ve never kissed down his body, how could you- why would you?

You’re holding his thickness in your hand, earning a soft cry from his glossy lips, stroking the bead of precum into a little circle along his slit, earning his body tensing under you, cock throbbing in your hands. “I couldn’t let you know. Arrogant bastard that you are - your cock it’s… pretty.”

Suguru chuckles and your teeth hit his tip just a bit in anger, only causing him to thrust his tip further in your hot, wet mouth. “Fuck, there you go… take it all, it’s yours.”

You’re sucking him down, eagerly and full of every bit of energy you’ve kept under wraps for these past weeks, watching his eyes dilate further, damn near black, his blush across his perfect cheekbones. Suguru isn’t talking shit, there’s no hate sex, it’s whispers of ‘perfect’ ‘feels so good’ ‘there’ as he lets you move, hips still, watching you in awe.

“Taking me so good, fuck look at you.” He doesn’t encourage you, he mocks you, but for tonight he allows every liberty, he lets all those whimpers he tries to hide go. “Fucking so pretty like this.”

You whine as his words hit, your cunt dripping so badly you have to rub your slit while he pumps up into your mouth, until he drags you off his cock, your lips pulling off with a loud pop, and he kisses his taste right off you. He’s got you under him once more, cock hot and heavy and burning against your inner thigh, kissing you over and over.

“Never felt anything like you.” You almost tear up again at his husky declaration.

Why, Suguru, why?

Why can’t you just stop this.

Why can’t you choose me?

“That’s not-”

“God it’s true.” He’s got his huge hand on his cock, guiding it into your soaking wet entrance, your nails clinging to his skin as you scream out, back arching for more. “Never, ever felt anything like you. I never want to.”

“Suguru…” He’s sliding his cock in and out of your slick walls, a hand gripping yours, as he shoves in so deep, and all you can do is fall apart for him.

“I haven’t wanted anyone but you since that first night.” You shake your head, but he’s staring right into your eyes, glimmering with his own emotions. “My exception.”

“Shh.” You’re kissing him back with hunger, while his cock moves inside you, knowing every spot, tip grazing just the spot now, forcing you higher, until it feels like there’s nothing but Suguru anymore.

His hair falls soft against your skin while he bites your neck, and your nails leave marks on his skin that’s coated with a sheen of sweat, while he pumps harder, but achingly slow, letting you feel every inch. So many inches he stuffs you with, balls slapping your ass that’s got the juices from you flowing against it, slap slap slapping and echoing in this room, his moan vibrating your ear.

“Wanna fill you every moment, want so much cum inside you it never stops. You can’t get rid of it.”

“Ngh…”

“Everyone will know you belong to me.” You’re whining as he bites your neck harder, pulling back with saliva glossing his lips, cupping your face now. “Say it.”

“No - ngh!” He slams his cock so deep, until he’s bottomed out, your tight walls stretching to accommodate, gushing down his length.

“Once.” He pleads, thumb brushing your swollen lips, cock sliding in even harder.

“You can’t ask for it.”

“I can. I am. I need to hear it.” You’re shaking your head even as he’s devouring you, fucking every thought out of your head, every warning there should be, it’s all faded until it’s just him. “You’re mine.”

“No.” He’s exhaling, lips passionate while he deepens the kiss, moaning into your mouth while your thighs clench on his hips, and he presses inside even deeper.

“Mine for tonight.” His pleading ends you, you’re cupping his face now, taking a shaky inhale before you speak it, the madness.

“Yours for tonight.” Suguru slams his lips back down, fucking into you so deep you can’t remember where he ends, where you begin, can’t breathe, feeling the drops of his tears, of a man you thought couldn’t feel, splattering along your cheeks.

“Come with me, now, Princess.” The way he murmurs that damn name is too much, you let him surround you, as he lifts a thigh. “With me, now.”

“Suguru I- ah!” You’re cumming when he starts pumping his hot cum so deep inside your now sore little hole, spurts rushing across all your walls, while you’re crying from how hard you’ve peaked, how much you feel, and see his watery eyes in your swimming vision.

“There it is, feel her gripping me. Wants it all, hmm?” You’d usually shake your head, but you’re nodding, sniffling while your tears mix together on both of your mouths, his hand gripping your waist bruisingly. “Imagine when you’re round with me.”

“Don’t say it.” He sighs now, as he eases out of you, watching the mess of both of your fluids gushing down his royal purple blankets, making him feral at the sight, fingers brushing over your stomach, making you shiver, sensitive to everything. “You can’t think it.”

“But you are having my baby.” Suguru kisses your tummy far too fondly, as you sob further, as he makes you feel more.

“I’ll hate you forever if you go. Forever, Suguru Geto.” He sighs, resting his forehead against your tummy now, while your fingers caress his shoulders, watching the goosebumps rise all over his skin.

“I know, Princess.” He eases off you now, eyeing the slutty mess he’s made of you, swollen lips, bruises on your skin, red marks all over, the indentations of his teeth.

He loves you.

“Stay in bed with me then. Don’t go.” He looks away as you sit up, your hair falling back now, revealing more of your bitten shoulders. “Stay.”

“You don’t understand how long I’ve worked for this. You don’t know about the world like you think.”

“You’ll punish them all for a few?”

“It’s not that it’s…” Your hand touches his chest, feeling a usually steady heart beat erratically against your palm.

“We could have this. We could give ourselves to this. Together, go away, so far away Suguru that no one will find us.”

“I can’t-”

“Bring the girls. I’ll raise them with you, far away from the hate that’s poisoning you, there’s something there, I can feel it.” Suguru stands now, strong muscled back just enhanced by the glow from the moonlight filtering in, hair falling against his back, between those shoulders that bare too much.

“Let me clean you up.” He goes to his bathroom, coming back and cleaning you far too gently, eyes not quite meeting yours. “Will you lay with me tonight?”

“Suguru…”

“Shh, just… for once, let me hold you for the night.” His emotions alone fill his throat, making his voice husky, you’re sniffling even as he swipes your tears. “I know you hate me, and you should hate me. But please, this one night, let me just hold you.”

“Fuck you for this.” He exhales, then moans softly when you kiss him, the taste of your salty tears against his lips. “Please, one night where I feel you against me, where you’re in my arms. You’ve only allowed one night… during your nightmare.”

“Nightmare of you.” You hold nothing back, you never do, a sharp tongue and words that pierce through his very soul. “Why?”

“I want you in my goddamn arms. You… I mean it, the exception.”

“But not enough to choose me.”

Suguru sighs now, pulling you closer, a hand slipping across your lower back, burning your skin. “Lay with me once. Tonight. Let me hold you in my arms.”

“Oh fuck you.” He’d laugh if he didn’t hear the fucking pain in your voice, feel your brutal kiss returning his own, hands entwining, bodies moving against each other. “You don’t even deserve to hold me.”

“I know I don’t.” He brushes your hair back behind your ear, eyes drinking in your pretty face, as if for the last time. “But please let me.”

“You’re asking something, and saying please?” he just gulps, you take a shaky breath then, turning on your side, hand slipping under the cool silk of the pillow. “Then hold me, if you wish, before you leave.”

Suguru pulls you against himself, and you hate how good he feels, his hard body still so warm from your exertions, his rough palm pressing against your tummy, unspoken words so loud between the two of you. You’re in love with a selfish, cruel man, but what is even worse is how much more you know there is.

You see why Satoru still loves him, after every atrocity he has committed.

You love him too.

“I hate you for making me feel this.” Your hushed words pierce him so deeply, when he pulls you closer, burying his head against the crook of your neck.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Lies.”

“I don’t. Far from it.”

“Just… shut up.” He’d smile surely, your attitude is like no other, even screaming his name you still never let up on him.

What would it be like when he came back?

Would you forgive him?

“You are one of the most important people to me-”

“No. Stop now before you destroy me further.” You go to move, and he yanks you back against him, this time facing him, and he sees the streaks running down your cheeks. “I’m not enough.”

“You are-”

“I’m not enough to stop you. We are not enough.” He holds you against him, even as you cry, until in exhaustion you fall asleep, sticky tears he swipes off gently, looking at your precious face, exhausted, drawn, lacking its usual color.

At this heartrate she can’t carry a baby.

The doctor’s words ring in his ears, when he slips the blanket over you, holding you tightly while you gently snore just a bit. “I love you.”

 You don’t hear him, and that’s for the best.

He aches to stay right here, when he has to awaken at four in the morning, the sun has not yet risen, when he has to leave the girl snug in his embrace, knowing he may never see her again. Suguru kisses your forehead, something he didn’t allow himself, last night the two of you had finally let go, the way you’d said ‘yours’ plays in his head, over and over, like a melodic symphony of his longing.

“Forgive me, Princess.”

*****

Waking up you reach for him, but Suguru is no longer there, just a bunch of rumpled sheets, the scent of him lingering, but long cold to the touch. You sit up in a room you’ve never slept in, Suguru Geto’s chambers, you’ve been fucked on every square inch of them, but never have you stayed the night. Your heart pounds in your chest so loudly you feel the dizziness of the blood pumping too fast.

No.

No, no, no.

“He can’t… he can’t…” You’re whispering frantically, gathering the crumpled robes, the ones he’d laid under you, even they have his scent just lingering on their silken material, while your shaky hands tie it on quickly.

You rush to the door, bare feet padding against the marble, you see Sashimi with his tongue lolling out, with Mimiko and Nanako, who are casually giggling and sipping on boba tea, as if everything is just fine. They come to you then, while you’re clutching the robes to your chest, the curse licking at your hand, while they tilt their heads at you.

“What’s wrong?” Mimiko asks.

“You look upset.” Nanako says.

“I am… worried about Suguru.”

“He’s so strong, don’t be!” Mimiko says with a grin.

“He is, he’ll win, promise.” Nanako and her hug you, trying to cheer you up, not realizing the depths of his mania, of his insanity.

“Are we alone?” You ask softly.

“No, dad wouldn’t leave us unprotected. Please don’t worry, he’s the strongest that there is!” You give them a soft smile, though you’re breaking apart inside piece by piece.

“I need to… get changed.” They watch curiously when you stride past them, now in a full panic, hastily getting dressed before finding the phone you’ve hidden under your mattress, dialing his number.

“Hey there sweets.” Satoru’s casual voice over the phone startles you.

“Tell me he’s…”

“Nope, he’s here all right, they’re all here.” Your cry over the phone speaker hurts Satoru even as he’s watching his best friend and everyone there marching slowly. “It’s not your fault that you couldn’t stop him.”

“Can you… take me there?” Satoru blinks, while his friend marches, dragons flying overhead, curses everywhere, sprawling across the streets, where his students and comrades stand ready, gathering together.

“As much as I disagree with Suguru on many things, humans are fragile… you’re not suited for a battleground.”

“Satoru please, maybe if he sees me-”

“That’s too dangerous.” He cuts you off, as your cries grow more desperate, and Satoru sees a student struggling, he curses. “I have to go.”

“Just trust me-” He hangs up, as you’re in a panic, completely unaware of what is even happening, rushing to the front doors, seeing the dome surrounding you glimmering when you try to touch it, jolting you back.

You fall to the soft clipped grass now, hands gripping the blades until you rip them from the roots, hopeless, terror sinking in.

What could you even do?

Could you forgive him?

You didn’t even say it… that you love him.

Would it have mattered if you had?

*****

Suguru smirks hours later, as tired sorcerers battle his own, his curses, he’s got them attacking people now, watching as they fall, but it doesn’t bring all of the satisfaction that he thought it would. He’s got you in his fucking head, his heart, ingrained like his own curse rushing through his veins, images of your tear streaked face, sounds of that little fetal heart beat echoing in his mind.

He didn’t even get to tell you.

Would it have mattered?

As his curses are destroyed more and more, Satoru’s clearly brought in several powerful sorcerers to help, some faces he recognizes from long ago. He sees Nanami, so different now, who gives him a disgusted scowl as he annihilates one of Suguru’s followers, swiping the blood off the white and black spotted blade.

“You’ve gotten strong, Kento.” Suguru says, when Nanami’s serious face scowls, and he pushes up his green goggles.

“Don’t dare call me that, anymore. My friend is long gone.” That shouldn’t hurt, Suguru would laugh at it, but the words sink in. “Now I’ll have my turn at you, killing children.”

“If the students would leave I wouldn’t harm them.” Suguru puts up a stance, hand bursting with Energy, as Satoru watches and remembers your plea then, while he crushes someone’s neck in his hands.

He needs to get you.

It’s the only option to end it.

Satoru’s gone in a flash, and you scream out when he’s right in front of you, jolting you up out of your bed, he lifts his white bandages with a finger, eyes swirling as they take you in, a blush on his face when he sees your disheveled state. “I scared you…”

“What’s he doing!?” You stand now, hands on Satoru’s chest, he realizes then that he’s not even putting up his infinity, as you look up at him desperately. “Is he…”

“It’s a shitshow to say the least, sweetheart. I have no time, I need to bring you, but I can’t guarantee the safety, I will try my best though.”

“No, no. Get me there. I have to try.” Satoru wraps an arm around your waist carefully, pulling you against his lithe body.

“Sorry you should hang on, and… prepare for this. Okay?” You nod then, feeling oddly comforted in his embrace, while he drops his mask back down, and you cling to his black silky jacket.

“I’m ready.”

He was not kidding when he said it, how sick and dizzy you’d feel teleporting with the white haired sorcerer, seeing the disaster all around you, endless curses you couldn’t believe, sorcerers in uniforms exhausted. Humans screaming in the distance, things are on fucking fire, figuratively and literally, buildings and walls destroyed. You gulp down the rolling nausea, while Satoru balances you.

“Easy.” He murmurs, you take an inhale through your nose, when Suguru catches your eyes, mid fight with a blond sorcerer, faltering as the man gets a slash against him, rivulets of blood rushing across the new slash in his robes.

“Suguru…” Your words hit his ears even as the sounds of destruction surround him, infuriated as Satoru holds you, stomping forward while you step out of his embrace, swaying just a bit.

“This is too far, Satoru. Leave her the fuck out of it.” Satoru’s laughter infuriates him, when he steadies you, murmuring in your ear.

“Give yourself a second.” You nod, stepping more steadily, as Suguru’s blood splattered face falls, softening when you stand toe to toe with him, the wind blowing your robes around your ankles, whipping around hair as he bends down, cupping your face.

“Get out of here. Now. It’s not safe.”

“The world isn’t safe, look what you’re doing!” You gesture wildly, making him observe just what you mean, injured sorcerers, death everywhere, his own curses disintegrating, former friends, former classmates, former teachers. All looking at him with the same sadness, though nothing compares to yours, when his eyes return to your face. “It’s not too late.”

“It’s too late, far too late. What did I tell you that night?” You shake your head, gulping with your dry throat, taking his hand and placing it on your tummy.

“We can run away. We can stop before more are hurt.”

“I can’t just-”

“You can. This isn’t you!”

“It is me!” His scream and grip on your wrists cause you to step back in fear, he realizes it, he sees it, the reflection in your glittering eyes- you’re terrified.

“I’ll never forgive this. Don’t do it, please just… let me be enough.” Suguru looks to the battle, then back to you, a million scenarios swirling in his head, when suddenly a blast hits you, and he watches the love of his life knocked to the ground.

“No… no… no!” He’s scowling, as the sorcerer who was one of his continuous blasting errant blows, he hadn’t even meant to hit you, but your body was…

Human.

You’re human.

Suguru kneels to the ground, eyeing your unconscious form, shaking you, smacking at your face, when he feels Satoru kneeling, checking your pulse. “This is your fault, Satoru, how could you bring her-”

“This is all you.” His words are cold and sharp, while his fingers feel the faintest of a pulse. “She’s human, Suguru.”

“And you brought her-”

“She’s human.” Satoru repeats once more, softer voice now, looking at him behind that blindfold. “I can get her to Shoko. But this needs to end.”

Suguru picks your limp body up in his arms, cradling you against his chest, your arm dangles limply, head falling to the side.

Suguru has a decision to make.

Let you go with Satoru to Shoko, and end this, disappear forever from your life, so that you could find a sliver of happiness he could never give you.

Or carry you to her himself, and try his best to redeem himself in your eyes.

“Stop.” He orders everyone loudly, voice resonating in echoes across the ripples of everyone, his curses stop first, then his fighters, while he pulls you tightly against him, the place you have always belonged, yet he never deserved to have. When he eyes what he’s done, the monster he became in your terrified eyes, he knows it then, he should have stayed in that bed, he should have listened.

He should have chosen you.

What does he do?

So I know this one is BRUTAL- but I will be doing dual endings, for five and six, one endgame Sugu/ reader, and one bittersweet and angsty. NO ONE will die so please don't worry either way, but be cautious of the warnings so you know what you're getting into! I know this one is very emotional, I'm crying with you :')

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[arcanefox207]

Don’t Make Me Ask Again

DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader Explicit 18+ MDNI | 2.2k WC | AO3

Summary: Teasing your dad’s friend has its consequences. (A filthy PWP for your merriment)

Warnings: DBF!Joel, Undisclosed age gap (but its pretty big, reader is college aged and Joel is late 40’s/50’s), Dubcon, Finger Fucking, Edging, Somnophelia, Cum Play, Masturbation, Depravity. Joel is an asshole.

Notes: Huge thank you to @whocaresstillthelouvre for being an outstanding beta editor. Also huge thanks to @magpiepills for reading and giving me courage.

M A S T E R L I S T | A O 3 | N O T I F S

You knew you were playing with fire, but it didn’t stop you. In fact, the taboo of it all gave you a high that you couldn’t stop chasing.

Once you caught him looking at you it was game on.  

You were home for summer break and found out that your dad’s new buddy also happened to be irresistibly handsome. He was always over at your dad’s house. Having a beer (or six) together after work or sitting by the pool on a hot evening, watching whatever game was on. He lived just down the street, so it was nothing for him to come over. He would even spend the night often enough, falling asleep on the couch after too many drinks or a game that went too late. 

He was a total asshole too, just like your dad. You liked the challenge. It gave you something to do while being stuck there all summer.

Night after night you shot those flirty eyes at him. Teasing. Dangling yourself in front of him when your dad wasn’t looking. Wearing the sluttiest of outfits and brushing up against him whenever he was in the way of where you suddenly needed to be. Sure, he was polite being a guest in your house, but he firmly removed himself whenever you got too close. 

You saw how he’d look away with a flushed face. How his jeans would tighten whenever you bent over in front of him to tie up your hair. How he’d stir in his seat when you were teasing him with your suggestive conversations on the phone that you knew he was within earshot of.       

You wondered how far you could push him before he couldn’t help but put his hands on you. 

You never thought he would actually do it. It was all harmless fun to pass the time.

Sooner or later you were going to find out.

Tonight was it. 

–

He hovered over you, caging you against the bed. He was still fully clothed except for his unzipped jeans with his cock straining against his boxers. 

“Gonna teach you a lesson,” he grunts as he pulls out his thick cock and it slaps against your stomach. It was already swollen as he stroked it and sat back, straddling your waist. 

He was massive and you eyed him with an insatiable want. His gorgeous, girthy shaft complimented his firm and broad body. The greys lining his patchy beard matched the messy thatch that trailed up to his lower belly and disappeared under his shirt. He was easily several decades older than you. Time had been kind to him, rewarding him with a body that just got better with age.

And you did want him. You wanted him badly. You thought about him night after night while you got yourself off. Now that he was on top of you in your own bed you had to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

But he really was such an asshole. Holding his cock in his hand in front of you to tease and watching your eyes widen with want.

“Nah, you ain’t getting this. Not for how you been actin’,” he scolds as he shifts his weight off of you and kneels between your legs.

You're lying in front of him, helpless and fully at his mercy, wearing just an oversized t-shirt and some modest cotton panties that are lacey around the waistband. Eyes still hazy from being abruptly woken up in the middle of the night. You weren’t exactly expecting company. 

Your bedroom wasn’t very dark with the streetlight peering in your window and the full moon bathing you both in its radiance. 

He uses his knees to press your legs open and make room for himself as he drags his free hand down your thigh, pushing you open wider. You don’t know what his exact intentions are but you know he is the one in control.

“Joel…” you whine, and he doesn’t like that. 

“What are you gonna do, call for daddy?” he taunts. “Let him see what a slut his little girl is?” He stops and looks between your legs, dragging his finger along the seam of your panties. “And how you’re dripping for my cock?” 

No, you weren’t going to do anything but take what he gave you and he knew it. 

He sits up between your parted legs and looks down at your pathetic, needy body begging to be filled up. 

He pumps his cock. “Show me,” he demands, mid-stroke. The way his wrist flicks as he tugs on his shaft is mesmerizing.

He sits back on his legs while you shimmy out of your panties and toss your shirt onto the floor. As you lay back on the mattress his eyes scan over you, taking in your perfect breasts and the softness of your youthful skin. 

He lets go of his cock and leans down, putting his face right in your cunt. You can feel his hot breath hovering just above your clit but he is careful not to touch. You writhe towards him, begging for some friction. He gives you nothing.

He smiles a wicked smile as he picks his head up to look at you. His eyes lock with yours and you can see the darkness spreading over him. He wasn’t going to give you what you wanted and he was taking great pleasure in this payback. 

He crawls back over you slowly, letting his cock press against you as he hovers face to face again. His broadness caging you in and sending shivers through your body at the sight of his dominance. 

He uses his hand to engulf your own and guides it to your clit, pressing your fingertips into it and rubbing. He never loses eye contact with you, studying the way your mouth hangs open as he forces your hand.

A moan escapes your lips at his perverse control over you. His throbbing heat searing into you, daring you to grind against him. And oh how badly you want to take the bait.  

“Show me how you touch yourself, little slut.” His voice is intimidatingly low and gravelly. He lets up the pressure on your hand once he is convinced you will play along.   

He maneuvers back down the bed to get a better view as you circle your clit. He grabs your legs roughly and pulls you up close to him so they are wide open and hanging over his thighs. His swollen cock standing at full attention just inches from you. Just out of reach. A tease. A prize if you play his game. You slow down your movements, as you start to feel the heat inside you surging. 

“Sweetheart, you can do better than that,” he taunts as he pulls off his shirt, generously giving you more of his body to drink in. The ridges in his lean muscles catching the moonlight. He looks sinfully delicious and you ache for his body against yours. You want to make him happy, give him a reason to reward you with his touch. 

He leans forward and puts his weight is on his palms just by your hips, his cock pushing against your wet hole. His broadness looming over you. Leering at your neediness. The sight of him. The feel of his spongy head knocking at your entrance. It was too much. 

It was embarrassing. Degrading. It turned you on. 

“Don’t make me ask again,” he threatens, grabbing your hand again. “Wanna see you stuff that pretty hole.” He pushes two of your fingers together and brings them to his mouth, sucking them slowly and getting them good and wet. It sends shivers through your body imagining that mouth on your pussy instead.

He’s rougher this time, guiding your hand back down to your entrance. You can sense his patience running out. He pushes your pliant fingers inside without warning, fucking you in and out. Slow and hard. Until he lets go and watches you take over.

You can see from the glint in his eyes how much it is turning him on, watching you finger yourself in front of him was intoxicating to him. Your innocent moans singing into his ears. 

“Those pitiful little hands can’t get shit done” he grunts, dragging his hand up your thigh and curling around your stomach. The rough pads of his fingertips leave you trembling in their wake as he drags them lower.

He pulls your hand from its warm haven and eyes your swollen clit, begging for touch. He presses his thumb into it and circles it, making you moan. Finally giving you something. 

“Please…” you beg. Eager to feel him on you.

“Needy thing.” He stops circling and brings his hand lower, dragging his middle finger along your entrance and then spreading his fingers through your slick. 

“Go ahead.” He positions your hand around his and presses his middle and index fingers together like a gun. “You can use mine,” he commands. 

You realize he still isn’t going to fuck you. No, he wants you to move his hand and use his body to get off. He knew you would do it too because he was making you so desperate for any way to release. 

You wrap your hand around his wrist and guide him towards your entrance. Your other hand grips just above his watch in a desperate attempt to hold on. 

You are already so close, your body sucks him inside. The thickness feels so good as your pussy stretches to take him. You wince as you take in more and more of him, underestimating how thick he is. Everything about Joel Miller is so damn thick.  

“Goddamn you’re tight” he smiles crookedly as he feels your walls clamping onto him as you thrust him in and out.

You can sense a shift in the room that's palpable. He was having his fun with you, but he was getting greedy. Getting off on watching you struggle to take his fingers. He wanted to stuff you with his cock and show you what a real tight fit is, but he has no intention of giving you that satisfaction. You had to learn a lesson about teasing. 

He couldn’t resist curling his fingers inside you, prodding at your fleshy walls. Your hand was still around his but he was the one moving it now. His free hand rapidly stroking his length, thumbing over the swollen tip and God you need him so badly.

“Joel, please!” you beg. 

You are on the edge, ready to come harder than you ever have before. 

“Bet you can’t handle three,” he challenges, giving you no time to respond. He’s already decided it's happening whether you want it to or not. You do want it. You want anything he will give you. 

He groans as he adds a third finger and you flinch at the stretch. You hold  onto his forearm for dear life as his fingers fuck into you hard while he fucks into his own fist.

Now he can’t help himself from taking over entirely. He thrusts into you, deeper and deeper. Feeling your walls convulse around him as you reach your limit.

Finally he gives you permission.

“Come. Come now,” he snarls at you. Your orgasm has you gasping for breath as he relentlessly fingers you through it, chasing his own release. You soak his fingers and moan his name, your walls fluttering around him. Your nails claw into his skin, as you’re fucked out and overwhelmed by sweet ecstasy.

He comes hard and loud and you are certain your dad is passed out drunk since he hasn’t broken down your door yet. 

Joel’s hot spend hits your stomach and pussy. There is so much of it, he paints you in his release. Claiming you. 

A primal need surges inside him, desperate to leave you with his seed. You see the shift in his eyes and he can’t stop himself. His cum drips and pools around his knuckles as he fucks it inside you in a frenzy, needing his  spend as deep as his fingers will let him. 

“Joel, fuck,” you protest at the initial shock of what he is doing. He doesn’t even ask if you are protected, he just uses his brute force to thrust his cum inside. 

It’s obscene.

And it feels so good. You are as depraved as he is. You welcome him inside your body wanting more, swallowing up whatever he gives you as you come down from your high. 

His cum leaks out of you as he withdraws his fingers, but he stuffs as much back into your gaping hole as he can until his primal drive wanes. 

He gets off the bed and puts his shirt back on, leaving you laying there in his mess. 

“Next time you pull that shit again, I’ll make you sorry.” he threatens as he zips up his pants.

You smile in the dark and close your legs tightly, feeling the ache from his rough touch.

“I’m counting on it.”

Dividers @anitalenia / Banner by me

WIP Taglist: @lotusbxtch @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @megangovier @vickie5446 @baronessvonglitter @covetyou @evolnoomym @milla-frenchy @getitoutofmymindwrites @giowritess @almostfoxglove

Tagging fellow Joel girlies and mutuals I hope will enjoy this or know a friend who might 🙏🏻 Please anytime if you don’t want to be tagged just let me know. Thank you and love you all 🩷

@pedgito @slimybeth69 @syd-djarin @wheresarizona @frannyzooey @jolapeno @joelsdagger @joelmillerisapunk @for-a-longlongtime @tightjeansjavi @bonezone44 @wethairjoel @fuckyeahdindjarin @beefrobeefcal @aurorawritestoescape @beardedjoel @hellishjoel @toxicanonymity @galaxyedging @perotovar @pearlessance @pedropeach @cavillscurls @sawymredfox @moonlitbirdie @mothandpidgeon @604to647 @yourcoolauntie @jessthebaker @ozarkthedog @iamasaddie @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @itwasntimethatdidit40 @sin-djarin @schnarfer

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hii could you please write upper moon 0 reader ((like just above Kokushibou and just below Muzan))abusing their power to (consensually) fuck the other moons lower than themself? Any character of your choice

Dom!uppermoon!reader x sub!kokushibo - reader is gn

Word count: ~3.7k

Warning: teasing, calling Kokushibo an old man, handjob, marking, nipple play, dacryphilia, men whimpering <333, mention of blood (little bit)

AYOOOO??? *rubs my hands together and giggles like some pervert* I think I picked the most difficult character for no reason-

This was ridiculous, nothing more than a joke. He was the one who received the most blood from him, he was the one honing his skills for centuries. So obviously he was supposed to be the strongest, second to none but that man alone.

Then how did you get here? Appearing out of nowhere, causing an uproar in the ranks. You were only a few decades old, too green behind the ears for your position, not to mention too obnoxious and childish. At the same time you were undeniably talented, climbing the ranks like nothing, surpassing others whose had way more blood than you, eaten way more people. Surpassing even him.

It reminded him much of a certain other person, which was not helping your image. How was this even possible? Is this what pure talent and sheer luck looks like? He was frustrated beyond words, and to some degree, he envied you. Jealous of how a snobby kid like you could have beaten him by miles, taking his rightful place next to the lord as one of the strongest. No, never, he wasn’t going to be satisfied with third place.

That mentality of his paired with his disapproval of you is what caused your current situation, it was the root of this shaky relationship.

“Hey, old man! You’ve gotten better since last time!” You commented in a sarcastic manner, sitting down on a fallen-over tree trunk. That indolent tone of yours again, you had no respect for your elders. On the other hand, you were stretching your body and twisting your wrists, as if you didn’t even get to warm up, eyes sneakily darting to the demon in front of you.

A man with long hair and a slightly torn purple kimono was kneeling on one knee a few meters away from you, his grip shaking around his weapon. “…but you might wanna work on your endurance, I can’t work with that.” You smiled innocently, jumping to your feet again. With leisure steps, you walked closer to him, grabbing his chin and making him look up at you.

His six eyes all glared at you, a red glow of fury radiating off him. You weren’t intimidated though, maybe you were when you used to be a lower moon, but not anymore. “After experiencing it firsthand, no wonder I managed to become an uppermoon so soon. You bunch are weaker than I expected.” That taunting voice of yours, paired with that mocking smile, you really knew how to provoke someone.

Kokushibo grabbed your collar and lifted himself up, “really, you should learn when to shut up.” You let him do it, not resisting while asking, “hmm? What’s gonna happen if I don’t listen? What, you gonna fight me?” An uncontrollable series of laughter escaped your throat, “and you always stressed the importance of respecting the ranks~!!”

His fist clenched around your clothes, and you smirked once you noticed it. Your words were getting to him, despite his indifferent facade. Good, how fun. You had him exactly where you wanted, any second from now he should— “let’s have another duel.” —aha, there it is. “Well that’s certainly not a problem, but I’m kinda getting bored over here.” You slapped his hand away, then straightened out your clothes, “I mean, why should I keep wasting time here? It’s not like I get any benefits.”

No matter how annoying you were, and how much he hated to agree with you, you were right. Since he just lost, it was pretty unreasonable to wish for another duel so soon. “What are your conditions.” Kokushibo said in a low voice, still glaring, not bothering with keeping a calm facade with you anymore. He brushed off the dust from his shredded kimono, which revealed little snippets of his muscular form, ranging from his biceps to his abdomen.

“If I win…” You crossed your arms in front of your chest, then pointed at him with your index finger, “I want you to do whatever I want for today~” judging by the way your voice got higher towards the end, you were clearly enjoying yourself. How irritating. Its to be expected that you are a little screwed. A normal person- demon -wouldn’t be able to climb the ranks like you. But he still agreed to your condition, because his priority was to beat you and have things return to its original state. “I accept.”

This poor thing and his inferiority complex, his vulnerable little heart with that frail ego of his.

You weren’t sure what he was expecting, considering you’ve just beat him a couple minutes earlier. While he was a tough opponent, who improved drastically in a short period, it wasn’t enough to sweep you off your feet. The result was set in stone the moment he agreed. A part of you was actually hoping he did it on purpose, because he wanted to know what you’d do to him. Though obviously that was just wishful thinking, there’s no way this man would do that.

No matter how often he lost, he’d never get used to the humiliating feeling, the awkwardness that followed. Especially now, since on top of losing, he owned you something. Maybe he shouldn’t have made that bet, he kept thinking, but he was too stubborn to back out now. “What do you want me to do?” Kokushibo sighed, eventually facing reality and lowering his head with a scorn. You couldn’t hold back a smirk and said, “first, promise you won’t get too~ mad.”

He knew he promised, well, you basically forced him to, but still. For him to run out of patience and get angry so soon, only you were capable of doing this to him. “You are shameless.” The male groaned with furrowed brows, his wrists straining against the rope tied around it. You could see him tensing his muscles, did he hate it that much?

All you did was tie him to the bed and loosening up his kimono, positioning yourself between his legs. Maybe slipping a hand underneath his clothes to grope his chest, it’s not your fault he looks so inviting. The rope was already making snapping sounds, even though you told him to control his strength. “Geez, and why did I went through the trouble of learning bondage again?” You clicked your tongue in disappointment, but untied the rope.

“It was a stupid idea to begin with. Why do you even want my body?” Kokushibo frowned, trying to sit up, thinking you finally gave up on your goal. But you grabbed both of his wrists instead and pinned them over his head, “what kinda question is that? Isn’t the normal conclusion that I find you attractive?” You chuckled a little, as if surprised by such a naive question.

He flinched when you suddenly yanked his arms up, and asked in a rather hesitant voice, “wait, why are you still..?” You tilted your head to the side, acting a little cheeky, “what, you thought i was done? I haven’t done anything with my price yet.” A moment of silence passed, all he did was focusing his eyes on you, in search of any hints that you were joking. There was none, despite you smiling brightly.

“…you still want to keep going?” The way he couldn’t even fathom the words that came out of his own mouth. Just, it was too out of place. I mean, you- with him? Have you always had such intentions towards him? “Kokushibo, you are acting as if you’re an old man. Oh wait, you are.” You teased, pulling at the waistband of his pants. “Ah- wait—” he felt a weird tingle spread where your fingers touched his skin, he brushed it off as him being irritated.

Seeing him so embarrassed at the smallest exposure, you decided to do him a favour and simply slipped your hand inside. At the same time, you whispered sickeningly sweet, “just relax, alright? I will do my best to make you feel good too.” The hand that was clumsily messing around finally found a starting point, and was slowly caressing his inner thighs. You didn’t need to probe long to find out he was muscular, not that you doubted it for even a moment.

“Say…” with a little more assertiveness, you pushed your head into the nook of his neck, mumbling against the part of his neck right under his ear, “won’t you allow me to?” About half of his eyes were closed and the others half-lidded, but he was definitely avoiding your intense gaze. How did you say such things with no shame while keeping eye contact? He gulped loudly, bawling his hands into fists above his head, “now you are asking…”

“Hmm? Don’t want to?” You tilted your head, to mutter directly into his ear, blowing air at the shell. The man flinched at the notion, and he groaned, “I already agreed since you won… what more do you want?” Such a temper, he was acting more like a cat than a demon. “Let’s see, how about you being honest with me?” Without any warning, you let go of one of his wrists and brought the other one to your lips, placing a kiss to his palms.

“You-!” He jumped at the sight, finally looking at you again. Never in his pretty long lifetime has anyone behaved like this towards him. At this point, he didn’t even know what he wanted. It was only because of the bet, that’s the mindset he had when he entered this room at least. But would he have the same one when he leaves? “…I’ll tell you when I hate it.” And that was it with the eye contact, with his pupils rolling to the side again. Seriously, what was so interesting about starring at walls?

“So you are tolerating it until then?~” you sighed, acting as if you were hurt. While he was distracted by your acting, you wrapped his arm around your neck and leaning down to pinch his cheeks. “Don’t be shy. Tell me, doesn’t this feel good?” You clasped your hand around his half erect dick, measuring him with your fingers. For no particular reason, you just wanted to keep your hands busy. He hiccuped at the friction and twitched, unable to keep his hips under control. “HnnG..?! Ahh…”

Gosh, his moans were really addicting. You almost lost your reason there. Moving the hand on his face a little to tilt his head, making him look up at you. “Tell me, kokushibo.” Hearing you say his name like that felt strangely foreign, you were really putting your all into this. He clenched his eyes shut as his blush darkened, squeezing out a quiet, “feels good..” What a relief it is that he doesn’t know the power his voice has over you, that little confession was enough to make you beam with delight. “Seriously, why do you keep seducing me~?”

Seduce??? He couldn’t even argue with you before you suddenly pumped him up and down, causing him to jump a little. “Ugh..!” After getting his consent, you weren’t holding back as much anymore. Pulling his pants down to reveal his groin without a second thought. His arms clawed at your back instinctively, and despite him expecting this to happen, he couldn’t hide how ashamed he was.

“My my, you are pretty wet down here.” You commented, noticing the way he kept leaking precum. Soon it covered your entire palm, and you used it as lube to spread it evenly around his sex. “Haaah… what do you mean wet…?” Ah- right. This man, even if he looks young it didn’t mean his mental age is the same. But explaining it would kind of ruin the mood…

“I mean, look how much’s comin’ out.” You rubbed his tip, turning your hand around as he shuddered, arching his back off the bed. Once you were satisfied with the amount of pre you’ve collected, you proudly displayed it in front of him. He shot one quick glance at the thick fluid coating your fingers and squeezed his eyes shut, whining out a “stop that.” For some reason, you felt offended by his reaction, responding with a “why do you look disgusted? This came out of you!”

“No need to shout it.” One of his hands moved to cover his face with the back of his palm and he clenched his teeth. Really, what were you going to do with this overly sensitive man? “Aren’t you hard to please.” You rolled your eyes, but ended up giggling over it. “Fine I’ll stop.” In return, you moved the hand on his cheeks down to grope his firm chest. The texture was softer than you expected, considering it was pure muscle.

After uttering that, you wrapped the dirtied hand around his shaft again, and jerked him off slowly. Due to the awfully slow motions and the fluids, it created filthy squelching sounds that bounced off the walls. His breath hitched at the sudden rush of pleasure, and his toes curled into the bed sheets. The way his chest heaved and his breathing quickened was too cute, not to mention his melting expressions mirroring the bliss he was experiencing. “Ah- ahhh…” even the way his lips parted was cute, what to do?

You noticed how his hips were jerking, dick twitching in your hand. That, paired with the erotic view laid out before you, manifested your desires even more. It was as if you were in a trance, unable to peel your eyes off him, staring at him like a hunter at its prey. His hair was spread out on the bed so beautifully, and you were ecstatic to see his body tremble with pleasure. You subconsciously quickened your pace, wanting to see more of his debauched state.

“Hnngh,,,Y-y/n, wait.. ah, just- s-slow down… a bit..” he had a troubled expression now, cheeks flushed red as he clawed at your back, trapping you in his arms. When the burning sensation in his core didn’t stop but intensified instead, he accidentally dug his nails into your skin, leaving behind some scratch marks. “Please, y/n…” the male begged in a gentle tone, lowering his head as the embarrassment finally got to him.

Isnt this the first time he used your name? …haha, this isnt fair, he moaned out your name in such a lewd manner, who wouldn’t fold instantly. This time you were sure, if he knew the power his voice had over you, he’d win every competition between you two. You chuckled awkwardly and mumbled something under your breath. He couldn’t quite catch it, because he couldn’t focused on anything else but the drag of your hand across his dick. The agonising tingles that made him go mad, the warmth and comfort of your touch.

“Nghhh- mhm!!… y/n, y-y/nnn…♡♥︎” he slurred over his words, hands fisting and pulling at your clothes. All these sensations were too much for him, the last time he felt anything remotely similar to this was when he left home. No, even then, it was never this stimulating. The way his entire body was like on fire, shaking with the overwhelming amount of raw arousal flooding his senses. Every single touch, every sound of your voice was messing with him.

You swallowed the lingering hesitation down, and circled around his nipple with your index finger. It didn’t take long before it hardened, quivering shamelessly. All while you moved the other hand up and down his sex. The more noise that movement made, the louder and more frequent his moans got, and it all mingled together into a lewd melody reserved for your ears only. It seems he knew how loud he was, because he suddenly bit down on his bottom lip, enough for it to swell and bleed.

“Now now, don’t hold back your voice. I wanna hear you callin’ my name for everyone to hear.” The vibrations of your voice tickled his sensitive skin, and he turned his head to the opposite side, granting you more access to his neck. His heart pounded in his chest, skipping a beat at the thought of others hearing his pathetic whines. Causing him to react with sealing his lips shut with more fervour, body flinching at every seductive spell of yours.

“I thought I told you to call my name? Aren’t you gonna do it, kokushibo?” You asked, placing gentle kissed from his jawline down to his collarbone. Not enough to leave marks, you wanted to take it one step at a time. “Come on~” you placed your thumb on his slit and rubbed around his tip, ending up with him leaking even more.

He tried to clench his thighs together but to no avail, it was as if his muscles couldn’t respond to him. Going limp under your actions. “Y/n…” he eventually groaned out. After hearing him say that, you bit down on his shoulder, leaving your first visible claim. Though he could heal it in a second, you still loved the thought of leaving bruises on him. “Good boy.”

Muffled groans and whimpers spilled from his sinful lips, his brain was too mushy to function coherently. Everything was too much for him to handle, and he felt tears streaming down his face. From the upper eyes to the lower ones. It was quite the weird feeling, so he blinked the tears away, trying to control his sobbing as he chirped, “y- hnNghh…! Y/n..?” How could he let himself be ruined and reduced to such a pathetic mess? Breaking down in tears at such an insignificant thing, letting you take charge like that…

The way his tone drifted off to being unsure and questioning was so adorable, you basically grinned from ear to ear. “Look at you, crying so prettily. It hasn’t been that long since we began.” He must have been so touch starved, to become such a cute mess because of a handjob, that was the downside to being at the top. You finally flicked and played with his nipple after teasing the surrounding area for so long. He cried out like it was the last straw of his sanity breaking, turning him into nothing more but a blabbering wreck.

“Ah-arghh…, I ca-can’t.. haah, urgh..! I’m close, y/n, p-please..” where did he learn to plead like that? It gave you goosebumps due to how erotic it was. “Aww, gonna cum? Go on, let it all out~” you kissed him, using his shock to your advantage and sticking your tongue inside his mouth, tasting the faint metallic taste of blood. At the same time, you fastened your pace on his cock, making him shudder and wither into the kiss. He continued to weep, to hold onto you desperately while he squirmed around, wriggling his hips as if he wanted to escape the pleasure. Your tongue fumbled around with his, drinking up his moans.

Though muffled, your ears picked up the bits that did seep out, and he was chanting your name like a prayer, just as you wanted. His eyes were glazed over and unfocused, sweat and tears were now mixing with drool as well. And the blush crept onto his cheeks has spread like a pest, to his ears and shoulders, as well as his chest. Slowly, he felt the strength leaving his limbs as the ecstasy threatened to consume him whole. He’s been teetering on the brink of release for a while now, the building anticipation was agonisingly slow. “Mhmmff- uhhh, hmm~!! ♥︎♥︎♥︎”

Suddenly, his back arched off the bed, and his nails dug harsh enough for your skin to tear. You pulled back once he started choking, and he immediately lunched at you, to hide in the nook of your neck. “Haaa-hah, hnghh- hmmff…” that’s when he caught you off guard by biting into your shoulder to keep his voice down. “You surprised me there.” You flinched before running a hand through his long hair, stroking him. The wound was nothing serious anyway.

“Haaah… y/n, y/n, ooOhhh, y/ny/n y— hmmnfff~~♡♥︎♡” he moaned out one last time as his release washed over him. Soon a sticky white fluid spurt out of his aching dick, coating the entirety of your hand to the point of dripping down his own shaft. It pooled around his pelvis or flowed all the way down his thighs. Once your hand separated from him, strings of cum connected the two. Even after cumming, he was breathing heavily, mumbling your name softly while catching his breath.

You slowly guided him through his orgasm, cooing at him, “good job, such a pretty thing, aren’t you.” His body was still shivering in the afterglow, but he managed his breathing pretty fast, and thus the hiccups got better. It didn’t take long before the high washed off, and while he was still disoriented, he was already starting to feel ashamed again. Pulling back as he tried to blink away the shame. This was so humiliating, how could he cry in front of you- At least his crying stopped now.

Then he flopped back onto the mattress, turning his head to the side to hide it behind the fluffy pillow, as well as using the back of his palm to cover his face. A few minutes of silence passed, where he was busy shorting out his thoughts. He really did that kind of thing… with an inexperienced brat like you… “a-are we done now?” Once he was certain he could speak coherently again, he spoke up. “Well…” in the meantime, you’ve spread his legs apart and used the cum-covered hand to reach to his backside. “…it’s time for me to have some—“

Before you could end your sentence, you noticed him drifting off to a peaceful slumber. “Kokushibo? Hey, kokushibo??” You rubbed his cheeks, wondering if he really just passed out like that. “…hah!” You couldn’t hold back your laughter, one orgasm and he’s knocked out cold? Hilarious. “I told you to build up some endurance, old man.”

[darlingdaisyfarm]

♡.ᐟ his hands know you better than you do ˚⋆

a/n: sorry if this is self-indulgent but i just needed to write something where Ford fucks the stress and depression out of me. honestly, wouldn’t mind if Stan did too. this started as princess treatment but derailed into filth, but whatever

tags: Ford x reader, princess treatment, mostly nsfw, soft Ford, praise kink, worshipping, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingerfucking actually lots of fingerfucking because Fords fingers deserve their own category, petnames, dumbification

there’s something tragic about the way you struggle with the clasp of your necklace, standing in front of the mirror with your fingers fumbling at the tiny silver hook. it's such a small thing, but frustration gnaws at you nonetheless. and Ford is always here to wash that feeling away. you feel his warm hands, six fingers sweeping your own aside, “allow me, please.”

he stands behind you as he secures the chain at your nape, admiring his sweetheart in the mirror. his fingers linger, pressing lightly against the fragile dip where your spine begins.

“there. perfect.”

Ford is always fixing things. adjusting the strap of your dress, tugging your coat tighter around your shoulders when the wind picks up, brushing stray lashes from your cheek with the soft drag of his thumb. he notices. he always notices.

there is a gravity to the way Ford Pines touches you, like the sea is pulled to the moon. six fingers softly grazing over your cheek as if you are precious, at if you're some rare, undocumented star he has been searching for his entire life. nothing has ever captivated him like you.

it's the little details that ruin you. when he pulls your gloves off finger by finger in the winter. when he cups your jaw in the middle of a conversation, just to tip your chin up and look at his sweetheart properly, murmuring about how your eyes catch the light just so.

when he says “there you go, sweetheart” whenever he helps you into a coat, a car, a chair. and you bite your lip when you catch the envious glances of other girls.

his hands, oh, his hands. meant for research, for careful sketches of interdimensional maps, for scrawled notes in the margins of mysteries unsolved and yet, they belong to you now.

Ford always pulls you closer in crowds, putting his firm hand at the small of your back because he needs to make sure his sweetheart is safe and near

if your feet ache, if your delicate ankles are too sore from those pretty little shoes, he’ll sweep you into his arms without a second thought. he grumbles though, muttering something about you being reckless for wearing those ridiculous shoes, but you know it's just because he cares.

you poor, delicate thing. you look so lovely when you’re tired like this, slumped on the edge of the bed with your heels kicked off haphazardly, body aching from a long day. too much effort, too much weight carried on your dainty little shoulders. but don’t worry, Ford will take care of you.

he kneels before you, a man who has spent decades chasing the unknown, kneeling at your feet like a man finally bowing before the only mystery he never wants to solve. calloused hands reach for your ankle, undoing the delicate strap of your shoe, fingers tracing the curve of your instep. and you sigh when you feel his warm lips pressing against the skin just above your ankle.

“you look so tired, my dear, please let me take care of you.”

his hands travel higher, peeling off the layers of the day, undressing you carefully and that feels almost ceremonial. fingers working at the zipper of your dress, pushing it from your shoulders, watching as the fabric pools around you. his breath is warm when he leans in against the curve of your thigh, kissing, kissing, kissing, an exploration, a devotion.

your hands never open doors, never carry bags heavier than a dainty purse. Ford notices everything. if your lipstick smudges after a kiss, he’s already smoothing his thumb over your lower lip. if your hands are cold, his are already cupping them, rubbing warmth into your skin, bringing your fingers to his mouth to breathe warm air over them.

in a moment of hesitation you'll always hear “don’t trouble yourself with that, love. let me handle it.”

you struggle with your hair and Ford is already reaching for the brush, pulling you between his knees as he gently, meticulously combs through the strands, what makes shivers bloom down your spine.

because Ford's sweetheart should never struggle, not when he can do something about it.

but that treatment does not stop at the threshold of the bedroom.

always kissing your wrist like a proper gentleman before pinning them down and making you sob.

when you straddle Ford's lap, rocking against him with slow, teasing rolls of your hips, he doesn’t stop you, only leans back, watching you.

“mmh, you’re making quite the mess of me, sweetheart.”

you know his hands have built machine leading to other worlds and dimensions, but now, they exist for you.

and in bed they are worshipful. you dont have to work for pleasure, you receive it. his pleasure is your pleasure.

you melt when his big hands hold you steady, guiding you against the hard press of his cock, letting you take what you want. if you decide to ride him, he always settles his hands on your hips, just because he wants to be close to you.

but oh, he likes to give, too.

you are his subject, his obsession, the one thing in all the dimensions that he has deemed worthy of true complete devotion.

you cum first, always, that's his rule. even while he’s making love to you, even when he’s right there on the edge. you'll always hear him groaning “cum for me, love,” and he means now.

fingers, fingers, fingers, obsessed with them, using them on you, making you cum on them.

because damn, he needs to make sure you’re ruined and twitching before he fucks his own release into you.

“look at you. dripping all over my hand. such a pretty little thing”

and thats a fact. his fingers always come first. they have to. he’d never think of fucking you without it, not when your little pussy flutters just from the slow push of his long digits inside. two first, then three, stretching, pressing, working until you’re soaking and weak.

Ford fingers you so often and naturally, that you start to think it’s just second nature to him. you’re sitting on his lap, buried in one of his oversized sweaters and his hand is already under it, teasing at the waistband of your panties, rubbing soft circles over your sensitive clit. or you’re in bed, drowsy and half-asleep and Ford is already between your thighs, lazily sliding two fingers inside you, curling them deep as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

“just relax, sweetheart, let me take care of you.”

Ford never rushes. six fingers, six places to hold, touch and tease. one teasing your nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers. another smoothing over your hip, keeping you still. but the two buried inside you work you open, coaxing wet little sounds from your lips, stroking that soft, aching spot deep inside.

his voice is always deep and soothing, even when his cock is aching, even when he’s watching your slick drip down his wrist. Ford is patient. determined. he won’t fuck you until you’re trembling, begging, nearly crying for it.

“that’s it, love. such a sensitive little thing.”

your nipples, he just adores them, rolling them between his fingers, sucking them slow, teasing, making your back arch so pretty, your fingers digging into his hair as he kisses, licks, bites, its never enough.

“so soft. you’re beautiful like this. love you so much.”

yeah, Ford knows you love his fingers because you always run your mouth about them, without even realising. you’ll watch him turn a page in his journal and murmur “ohh your hands are so strong, Ford.” or when you trace your fingertip along the veins of his knuckles and hum, “beautiful, so big.” you say it without a thought, praising him for nothing, really

and Ford never comments, never says a damn thing, but he burns with the knowledge that you have no idea what you do to him

so later, when his thick cock stuffing you up, filling every little space, fucking you open, that’s when he gets his little revenge.

“Ford, w-wait—“ you gasp when he pulls out suddenly, leaving you aching and empty when you were so damn close, in response you feel Ford rubbing his broad palm down your belly, down between your thighs. “shh, just for a second, just let me. here we go,” its two first, then three, pressing inside, stroking that spot that makes your body jolt.

Ford kisses your neck. “this little pussy loves my fingers more than anything, doesn't she?” fuck, you do, you can’t help it. you whimper, nodding so fast it makes him grin. “so go on, starlight. cum for them.”

there's nothing he loves more than making you cum around his fingers.

Ford, although quite awkward, insists you sit on his face and you know his mouth was made for worship when you perched prettily on him. greedy hands gripping your thighs, trying to keep you there forever. six fingers press into your flesh, keeping you open and spread, keeping you exactly where he wants you with your thighs trembling around his head.

his tongue moves with purpose, slowly lapping at your pussy like he has all the time in the world. you tilt your head back when he sucks your little clit into his warm mouth, moans against you like he's the one getting fucked, groans deep and filthy when you grab his hair.

“you taste divine, darling.”

Ford loves to press his forehead to yours when he bottoms out deep, stretching you good enough that you whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck. he kisses your lips, your jaw, the corner of your mouth, memorising every inch of you, letting you feel every inch of him, holding himself still so you can adjust.

and Ford hates making you cry, he swears he does. but god, if he doesn’t love the way your little tears stain his lips when he devours your mouth with kisses.

“i know, darling, i know,” as his thumb catches the first tear that spills, swipes it up, brings it to his lips like he’s starving for it. “look at my pretty girl, getting all teary for me.”

he can’t help it. his hands tighten as he ruts faster into you.

It's his guilty pleasure but damn, Ford adores it when you get dumb for him, too far gone to even think as he fucks into you so deep, the bed creaking. your knees trembling where they hook over his hips.

“sweetheart, still with me?” he’s got your wrists pinned, forehead to forehead, mouth brushing yours as he drinks up every little sound.

“fuh—Ford, too much—c-can’t—“

he’s not even touching you anymore, just watching how your lashes flutter and your mouth stays open, how your chest rises and falls in rapid helpless gasps. you can’t think straight. he’s hitting too deep, ruining you too slow and that feels too good.

“you can take it. just let me make you feel good.” he cups your face, wipes the mess off your cheek.

but Ford loves it when you use him too, when you ride him, rolling your hips in teasing circles, grinding down just to hear him groan. Ford always lets you take what you need.

and when you collapse against his chest, tired, trembling, whining softly into his neck about how good he feels, he fucks up into you, slow and sweet, holding you close, cradling you.

“i’ve got you, baby, i’ve got you. let me love you.”

ever the gentleman, Ford always asks you where you want his cum.

“tell me, princess. where do you want it? inside? on your pretty stomach? your soft thighs? tell me, sweetheart. let me give it to you. im so close.“

it. . . doesn't really matter that he wants it inside you, that he needs to fill you up, keep you full and watch it drip from your spent little cunt. no. the most important thing is what his beloved wants.

even afterwards, Ford doesn’t roll away, but stays pressed against you, holds you through it all. whispers soft things against your temple, kisses your fingertips, your shoulders, your belly as he thanks you for letting him ruin you.

because princess treatment doesn’t end when the sex does. Ford cleans you up gently, tugs you against his scarred chest, runs his six fingers through your hair until you fall asleep, safe in his arms.

“there, there, sweetheart. took me so well. so proud of you. just rest. i’ve got you.” and here you are, worshipped, fucked, adored

[biorust-art]

Hoop Dancing.

So, the thing about hoop dancing (a rare form of dance typically shared by the indigenous plains folk of North America ((I'm most familiar with a few Lakota dancers))) is that a hoop can represent many things. One hoop can symbolize the individual, beginnings or potential. It could also represent the sun or the moon. And many hoops, like what Cyrus is holding, could mean a flower, family, the world. Could be life or death or unity. It all depends on the dancer and the audience.

[Image Description: A digital drawing of Dorian Storm and Cyrus Wyvernwind from Critical Role. The two brothers are hoop dancing with golden hoops. Dorian is in the forefront holding his one hoop up in his left hand and looking towards the sun with an expressing of grief on his face. The wind tosses his hair and his cape back and the sun shines on his gold accessories. Cyrus is facing away, standing in shadow with six hoops woven in a circle. His arms are above his head and his eyes are blocked by one of the hoops. He is placed lower than Dorian, so that very little sunlight meets him. The background is a very fluffy white cloud on a blue background, it is rendered in a blocky style and on an overlay over the clouds is a rainbow. END ID]

[cherrixpie]

NEMESIS

part six of six

↬ you were supposed to steer clear of mattheo riddle. Shame that he was just so irrestible.

↬ eventual nsfw content (at ca. 8k words); wc: 14.8k (because why not); cw: mentions of violence, swearing, blood, smut (mdni) ; tags: gryffindor!reader, muggleborn!reader, enemies to lovers ; nsfw tags: oral fem receiving, praise, teasing, overstimulation, p in v, aftercare

( masterlist )

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you hurried past students and ghosts alike. In your vision, they were reduced to flashes of blue, yellow, green and red, or an ethereal shimmering, background noise, the first layer on a canvas.

Once you reached the top step, you were gasping for breath, but the lack of oxygen didn't stop you from running along the wall to avoid the crowd that would only slow you down, simultaneously mapping out Hogwarts inside your head to take the quickest route to Dumbledore's office. Half aware that many heads were turning after you, some whispering behind their hands, you crossed a corner into an emptier corridor and only hastened your tempo.

Fictitious yet haunting images flashed before your waking eye as your imagination ran wild with what could possibly have happened to Mattheo. He'd get in fights constantly, but, to your knowledge, had never been summoned to the headmaster. Though, Dumbledore hadn't asked for him but you. Fear tore at your chest, adding to the ache of running. Was Mattheo so badly hurt that he felt the need to console his friends- and significant other?

In the last corridor, you barely stumbled towards the stairs that led up to the headmaster's office and gasped the password at the gargoyle who nodded approvingly and let you in. Barely managing to climb the last few steps, you slumped against the door to Dumbledore's office and knocked your fist against it. “Step in!” the headmaster’s old voice called from the other end and you pressed down the handle to swing the door open.

You'd been in this office once already, the night almost six years ago, after you and your friends had found the chamber of secrets and Harry had slayed the basilisk inside. There'd been a feast after, but you weren't sure if Mattheo had attended it. You'd have to ask him. Over the last days, you'd continued your habit from the tutoring lessons, of teasing each other about the way you'd previously perceived the other- though it was a lot more fun on his part when you got to hear his side of the story, living through all the events you did but experiencing them so differently. Sometimes it was funny and you found yourself giggling about things like preschool children. Other times, it was melancholic, a plea for better times or an unwelcome reminder of the difficulty of your relationship.

The portraits on the walls were pretending to be sleeping, but you couldn't be fooled anymore since your fateful run-in with chattery Dorothy Dankworth. Filigree golden instruments stood along the walls, fulfilling their mysterious purposes, and a great golden phoenix, Fawkes, sat on his place on Dumbledore's desk. The headmaster himself sat behind the desk and looked up from his parchment when you stepped in, still panting audibly for breath. His thin lips pulled into a smile as he lowered his half moon spectacles and his piercing blue eyes met yours.

You knew he could do legilimency, just as Mattheo could. Only, Mattheo had promised you never to use it against you without your knowledge, and the man sitting across from you had never made such promises.

But Dumbledore averted his stare fairly quickly and rose from his seat behind the desk, walking around it and beckoning you closer. With hesitant steps, feet still hurting from your little sprint through a huge damn castle, you walked towards him and he offered you a chair he conjured out of thin air. Without a word - you were still too out of breath - you sat down on it and he reoccupied his seat as well, clasping his hands together over the table.

“Miss Lovegood may have told you why I wished to speak to you,” he said calmly, his expression painfully serious. Oh, what you would have given for a calming smile or a winking eye right now, the safety and comfort the headmaster always displayed at the start-of-the-term feasts.

“Is he hurt?” you asked, for once without regard to proper etiquette. Your hands were clenched into fists beneath your robes, nails digging into the flesh of your palm as you fearfully awaited Dumbledore's answer.

For a few seconds, Dumbledore surveyed you thoughtfully, slightly crooking his head, before giving you the smallest of smiles. “It is true, Mr. Riddle got involved into a fight today, but he is not seriously injured. Though he would do well with medical treatment, which I hear he refused.” You breathed a sigh of relief, as confusion rose within you. Why then had you been called to the headmasters office? Why weren't you already with your boyfriend, patching him up?

“Gossip spreads incredibly fast in Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore quietly, “as you have experienced yourself. So I must ask: are you aware what the cause of Mr. Riddle's disagreement with two very unfortunate Gryffindor boys in your year was?”

“No,” you replied truthfully, going through the Gryffindor boys in your year one by one. Ron and Harry were the most likely candidates, but to your knowledge, they had spent the whole day up in Gryffindor tower and had still been there when Hermoine and you went on your way down. You could rule Neville out definitively, which left-

“Though Mr. Riddle remains with no major injuries, the same cannot be said for Mr. Finnigan and Mr. Thomas,” said Dumbledore seriously. “If eyewitnesses are to be believed, Mr. Riddle attacked Mr. Finnigan upon overhearing him suggesting to Mr. Thomas how you would come to your senses eventually, that once Mr. Riddle would get bored of you, you would come, ah, ‘crawling back’ to them.” Dumbledore seemed almost embarrassed to say this out loud.

Biting down on your lip, you lowered your gaze. It was true, Seamus had been very reserved towards you ever since you'd kissed Mattheo the day after his fight with Ron. It really shouldn't come as a surprise that he had said these things, though you'd had more respect of him before. And Mattheo… you couldn't find it in yourself to be angry at him, not when a stupid fuzzy feeling in your chest betrayed how flattered you felt that he had tried to defend your honor, even though you ultimately would have preferred it hadn't happened and no one were injured right now.

“Miss y/n?” Dumbledore asked and you looked back up at him. “Your relationship with Mr Riddle seems to be a popular topic of discussion all around the castle these days. Just yesterday, I overheard the fat monk and Sir Nicolas talking about it. So I regret weighing in on a topic you are probably long tired of.” So that was it. Dumbledore wanted to know about your relationship to Mattheo. And he was right, you weren't really in the mood of discussing it with your headmaster.

You realized he was looking at you, awaiting some sort of reaction, and you nodded. “It's fine.” It was not fine, but really, you just wanted to get this over with quickly so you could see if Mattheo was really alright as Dumbledore had said.

“To my understanding,” said Dumbledore, “and you may correct me if I'm wrong, you’re Mr. Riddle’s first girlfriend- not counting his many -uh- exploits, as well as his only relation outside of his friend group.” Reluctantly, you nodded. This felt wrong. What was he getting at?

“You must have met a great deal of resistance from your peers, especially your own house,” he continued. “Tell me, my dear: what do you see in Mr. Riddle others do not?”

Though you were taken aback by the question, you didn't need to think about it long. “What people think of him is entirely founded on the assumption that he must be like his father," you said seriously, "But you yourself will surely agree with me that it's not blood that is important, or what family you belong to, but how you choose to live your life and what decisions you make for yourself.”

“But,” Dumbledore said gently, “Mr. Riddle has been notorious for violence for quite some time, as you yourself must know.”

“If you tell someone over and over again that they are going to be a monster, that that is the path cut out for them,” you said, your voice rising a little as you got more heated, “You are not allowed to be shocked or surprised when they follow the path you pointed for them all their life!” To make your point, you sat up a little straighter and placed your hands on Dumbledore's desk. “Mattheo is a person, he's always been, what did you expect would happen if there is no hand extended to him?”

“So, you extend that hand to him?” asked Dumbledore calmly and watched you very carefully over the rim of his half moon spectacles.

“No,” you said curtly, “that was your job. For god’s sake, Mattheo isn't my charity case!” Realizing how loud you'd become unintentionally, you took a deep intake of breath to calm yourself. Respect for your teachers had always been important to you, Mattheo was the one with the anti-authority leanings. “Headmaster, I don't know what you expect me to say. But I'm not with Mattheo to- to save him or something, I'm with him because I love him.”

“Love, Miss y/n,” said Dumbledore pensively, “is often the greatest weapon against darkness. But it is not always enough to save someone who does not wish to be saved.”

“What are you saying?” you pressed, not breaking eye contact as your fingers clenched around each other on the table, curled into a tight net.

Dumbledore breathed a long sigh, and for a moment, he looked older than you'd ever seen him. “Mattheo Riddle is a young man burdened with a name that carries a great deal of darkness. I fear that darkness is eager to claim him.” He leaned forward ever so slightly. “I quite agree with you that it is not our blood that defines us. But do you believe Mattheo understands that?”

You couldn't answer this. In whispers, Mattheo had confided in you about his parentage, what some called his legacy to follow his father’s footsteps. As an incredibly powerful wizard, he'd always been expected to use these powers for the worst. It had been drilled into his head, that nothing about him could be good, that he would always be the destruction of goodness, the epitome of heinousness. He had confessed to you how he never knew how to hold you, as if you were an angel from another dimension. Too good for him, too pure to be touched by him, incorruptible and therefore never to be his, truly.

Dumbledore seemed to sense your inner conflict and addressed you, making you look up at him. “There is a storm inside that boy, one that I believe he doesn't know how to quiet. And yet, with you, he may be able to. But I advise you to let caution rule. You may be his light in the shadows, but even the brightest light cannot force someone to walk out of the dark.”

“Is that all?” you asked, burning to escape the headmasters office that seemed to get more cramped with each second. Dumbledore examined you closely, but then he nodded and you rose from your seat in an instant. Your hand already on the door handle, he called your name one last time and you turned around.

“Miss y/n?” asked Dumbledore, and the lightest of smiles played around his lips, though it seemed tainted with worry and sadness. “I do sleep better at night, knowing Mr. Riddle has you in his life.”

Leaving the office, you took off to Gryffindor tower at once, sprinting through halls and up the stairs until your lungs seemed to be bleeding and screaming in protest. Stumbling through the portrait hole, you caught sight of a group of Gryffindors in your year huddled together, throwing you both judgemental and apprehensive looks as you passed them, but neither of your closest friends were among them, so you paid them no mind.

Thankfully, the girl's dormitory was empty when you broke through the door, panting and gasping for air. Walking over to your bed, you pulled your medical bag out of your cupboard, flung the handle over your shoulder and took off down the stairs again. But when you went to make your way across the common room, you suddenly crossed paths with Ron. Assuming he'd ignore you, you tried to rush past him but his voice made you stop dead in your tracks.

“Can we talk?”

You turned around, finding him looking a little embarrassed and self-conscious, though he was still frowning. Even though the fight had been about a week ago, some of the bruises were still visible on his face, in spite of Madam Pomphrey’s medical miracles. “What is it?” you said, trying not to sound too impatient.

Ron blew out a long breath through his mouth, rocked lightly on the balls of his feet and looked anywhere but you. When you were just about to ask again, he glanced back at you and his frown deepened. “I was… a bit of an asshole last week.”

These barely muttered words stunned you enough to momentarily forget about Mattheo and concentrate your attention on the boy standing before you, who was rubbing his neck uncomfortably. “Yeah… kinda…” you said, suddenly realizing that you weren't even mad at him anymore. His words had been cruel, but you hadn't been innocent either, and he was one of your best friends. You knew he hadn't meant to hurt you, and he had gotten his comeuppance already.

“Look, I-” he seemed to be looking for the right words, “I didn't mean what I said about you being stupid and naive and throwing yourself at Riddle. I'm really sorry.”

“It's fine,” you said, after a short pause. “I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have lied to you all like that, you guys are my best friends. I was just afraid that you might react, well, disproportionately.”

“You're going to keep seeing him then?” Ron asked, barely managing to keep the bitterness out of his tone. At least he wasn't shouting anymore, and you felt confident enough to quirk a little smile. “Well, yes. Actually, I was just on the way.”

Ron clenched his jaw. “I don’t trust him. I probably never will. But if he ever hurts you, I swear I’l-” He stopped himself and sighed, giving you a hesitant smile. “Just be careful, okay? Look, you're like a sister to me, that's why I was such a bloody idiot about this. I just don't want to see you get hurt.”

“You won't,” you promised, and, after a second of hesitation, you closed the distance between the two of you and wrapped your arms around him. It was kind of hard because Ron towered over you with his considerable height, but nevertheless, he returned the embrace. When you shifted, he winced slightly and you broke apart. “Still hurts?” you asked empathetically.

Ron shrugged. “I guess I deserve that. Have fun with your boyfriend.” Though he rolled his eyes, he seemed in a much better mood than before.

Ten minutes later, you hurried down the steps to the dungeons and flew past the torches on the walls, blazing through your vision, in search of the Slytherin common room. When visiting the dungeons, you'd only ever been to the kitchens. There had never been an occasion when you'd felt the desire to enter the snakes den. Up until now.

Rounding another corner, you were suddenly faced with a dead end. Dark brick obstructed your way, cold and unsympathetic to your plight. You groaned in growing desperation, already turning on your heel to keep looking for the entrance, when suddenly, you gasped. Someone emerged from the wall, walking through stone, it seemed, as if it were nothing but fog. When they broke apart from the wall, you realized it was Theodore Nott. Equally surprised to find you, his eyes widened, then dropped to your medical bag.

“Did somebody already get you?” He asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. To be on the receiving end of Nott’s staring was slightly terrifying and your fingers closed around the handle of your bag.

“Nobody got me,” you answered, growing more self-conscious by the second. Nott seemed so hostile- did Mattheo not want to see you? “I just… heard what happened and I wanted to come and… well…” Gesturing vaguely to your medical bag, your voice drowned off uncertainly.

But Nott only said “good” and motioned you towards him. When you came to a halt next to him, faced with the dark wall, he cleared his throat and said “vaframentum” at the wall. It seemed to be the password, as he held you by the arm and walked back through the seemingly hard brick, pulling you through with him.

It was the most peculiar feeling to walk through a wall, it seemed to mold around you like a tight suit, unable to breathe, until you came out on the other side the split of a second later. You shuddered, looked back at the brick and shook your head. “No offense, but I prefer our entrance, I think. Do people ever get stuck in there?”

“I think there was a kid, few decades back,” said Nott easily. You noticed his eyes were quite cautious as they surveyed you, but he didn't seem as hostile anymore. “He's up there.” Nott indicated something above you and only now did you properly appreciate the sight before you.

The Slytherin common room was somehow just like you had expected. The whole room was tinted in a greenish hue due to it being beneath the black lake and the portraits of many stern looking witches and wizards adorned the dark walls. Though a fire cackled in the large sophisticated fireplace, the room was a good few degrees cooler than the Gryffindor common room. The couches were of black leather and very elegant and desks stood along the walls, groaning under quills and parchment.

You looked up into the direction Nott had indicated and saw a flight of stairs leading upwards, where the dormitories had to be. With a short nod, you followed him, struggling to keep up with his long strides as you climbed the stairs. Walking up the staircase in silence, you passed many doors though none seemed to be the right one. Finally, Nott came to a halt before a large wooden door, undoubtedly the Slytherin boy's dormitory.

For the split of a second, Nott seemed to hesitate, but then, he brushed past you and opened the door. Because his large frame obscured much of what lay beyond the doorway, you could only see several pairs of feet and a curl of smoke rising over their heads, and hear Mattheo's voice, rough and agitated as he snapped at his friend. “Not you again, piss off, Nott! I need everyone to get out of my damn face.”

“It's not a pleasure looking at your face right now, I can assure you, mate,” Nott replied, coolly, leaning against the doorframe. “You look like Frankenstein's monster.”

A humorless chuckle sounded through the room and you heard someone shift. His voice, his laugh was enough for you to know that whatever had happened during that brawl had not been enough to fulfill Mattheo's need to make someone bleed for it, and for a split second, you were almost worried about Nott, even though you knew Mattheo loved him like a brother. “Oh great, another lecture,” Mattheo drawled sarcastically, looking to provoke, “you know, for someone who is not my mother, you sure nag like one.”

You couldn't help it, you couldn't stifle the little chuckle that left your throat at their banter. Silence fell upon the room. Next second, Nott was suddenly pushed away with a rough thrust and Mattheo stood before you in the doorway. He leaned against the doorframe, one arm braced against the wood, his posture careless yet undeniably tense. His knuckles were split, seeping with blood, but he didn't seem to care. Neither did he seem pained by the deep cut that split his lower lip, swollen and dark, and the faint bruise that was already blooming on his cheek.

His hair was even messier than usual, like he'd run his hand through it too many times in frustration, and he removed the cigarette from his lips to flick it down and stamp on it to suffocate the glowing embers. As he scanned your soft figure and noticed your chest heaving slightly, every breath somewhat audible as a slight hitch, his dark eyes flickered, something unreadable flashing behind them. A smirk ghosted his lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Didn't think I'd be seeing you here, princess,” he drawled, his voice low and rough, yet his eyes had somewhat softened at the sight of you. “If I knew getting my face bashed in would get you sneaking into my dorm, I might have done it sooner.”

Though worry tugged at your heartstrings at the sight of his injuries, you rolled your eyes slightly as a little smile played around your lips. Mattheo's eyes seemed to cling to them like a drowning man to his lifeline and he lowered his head slightly, grinning irresistibly down at you. Before he could try anything though, you gave him a glare and a flick against the forehead. “None of that until I have fixed that lip.”

Your rejection couldn't wash the sly smile off his lips. “I'm sure this is one of those things you can kiss better.” Behind him, you thought you heard someone gag, and Mattheo turned around sharply, glaring at Malfoy who seemed to be the culprit. “Why don't you shut your ferret ass mouth in front of my girl, Malfoy, before I make your face even prettier than Finnigan’s?” In an instant, Malfoy fell silent, merely glowering at the ground. Beside him, Lorenzo Berkshire gave you a little wave and smile that you returned.

Mattheo's eyes flickered briefly between the two of you, but without another comment, he seized you around the waist and pulled you against him and into the room. It was very orderly, probably not because of Mattheo. Zabini, Malfoy and Lorenzo seemed to stand around the four poster you assumed to be Mattheo's, looking at you with varying expressions of interest, disapproval and encouragement.

“Oi, idiots,” said Mattheo gruffly as he sat down on his mattress and pulled you along with him until you almost sat in his lap. “Kindly get your stupid faces out of my girlfriend's sight.” He seemed to take great satisfaction in calling you his girlfriend and his fingers curled into the flesh of your waist as he watched the others with sharp eyes.

“Mattheo,” you said softly, attempting to calm the storm that still seemed to be raging inside him. His head snapped around at you and his expression changed in an instant, softening visibly. His lips ran a line up your temple as he pulled you even closer. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Malfoy storm out of the room. Zabini followed, dragging a pissed looking Nott along with him, and Lorenzo left last, with a friendly smile your way.

Once the door fell shut behind them, you freed yourself from Mattheo’s hold. A disgruntled frown crossed his face, but he didn't try to stop you and only wrapped his hands around your knees, thumbs rubbing lazy circles onto your thights. A trickle of blood made its way down his chin and you brushed it away with a fleeting touch, careful not to hurt him. Many of his wounds were already scabby, but untreated. A defeated sigh lift your lips and you noticed Mattheo's eyes snapping down to them. “Why didn't you clean your wounds, Mattheo? You must be in a lot of pain.”

A casual grin tugged at his lips as he looked up at you, his dark curls falling into his eyes but he made no effort to brush them away, perhaps hoping you would. “You worried about me?” he asked in a teasing tone, his hands traveling up your thigh almost indiscernibly. “Careful, princess, you're gonna make me all soft for you.”

Shaking your head at his antics, but unable to suppress a smile, you placed your medical bag next to Mattheo on the bed and opened it to grab a small towel. With a murmured “aquamenti”, you moistened it and started to clean his cuts and bruises. You could feel his eyes on you, boring into your skull with a new intensity as he crooked his head. When you reached his lip and ran the cloth ever so carefully over his swollen cut, he didn't even wince but only leaned up as if chasing your lips for a kiss.

Quickly, you turned away, shaking your head in disbelief. “Really, Mattheo, you’re impossible. You're bleeding and bruising up and you still-” Breaking off with another sigh, you averted your eyes from his that had begun to glint at your abashed expression. You discarded the towel and instead took the murtlap essence, dipped your fingers into the cold liquid and began dabbing it onto the cut on his lip.

“Not gonna lie,” he said, lowering his voice slightly and it resonated in the limited space between his and your lips. “You fussing over me is kind of hot.” His eyes searched for yours, and when they met, his gaze locked you in place, unable to take your eyes off of him. “I wanted you to do it,” he said huskily, “I didn't clean ‘em because I wanted you to do it.”

The way your brows scrunched together almost had him on his knees for you. You looked so fucking irresistible in the dim light of his dorm, looking down at him with worry etched into your gaze and the soft touch of your hands. No one had ever cared for him like this. No one had ever cared enough to heal him, patch him up. Mattheo himself had mostly just let the injuries be until they vanished or turned into messy scars. Not that he'd ever cared. If anything, it only made people flinch back even more. And as much as he hated them for their silent judgement, there was a certain satisfaction in seeing the fear in their eyes when they looked at him.

Fear. Mattheo had found himself reveling in it ever since he'd first experienced it: the summer after his father had returned from his Albanian exile. Before, it’d only ever bothered him how people burst out of the way when he walked down hallways. But now, doing to them what was done to him seemed not only just in a twisted way, but satisfactory. Even seeing his friends flinch away from him from time to time was a warped sort of thrill he relished.

But not with you. Mattheo hated the thought that he might see the same fear he'd seen in others reflected in your eyes. Your horrified expression after the brawl with Weasley had been enough of an appetizer to make him detest the very thought. No, you saw something in him, something good, something worth worrying about. And for the first time in his life, Mattheo didn't want to prove anyone's assumptions right by being as much of a monster as they all expected, but to be whatever you liked about him, though he couldn't really imagine what that might be.

“Knew you'd come,” he said, finally, after a short silence during which you had been dabbing at a cut through his brow, eyes narrowed adorably in concentration. “You're too kind, princess.” He couldn't resist urging you closer, his hands still cupping your lower thighs. Though his head was craned upwards, he couldn't have cared less about neck strain. He'd not let himself be deprived of the sight of you fussing over him with such tender care. A smirk played around his lips and he could see your eyes flick down to them, an almost unnoticeable tint of pink on your cheeks. Fucking hell, how he loved to see you blush.

Almost instinctively, his hands tightened and your breath hitched a little. Mattheo couldn't help the light groan that left his lips. “You should be in bed, not sneaking into the serpent’s den for your reckless boyfriend.”

To his surprise, you breathed an amused chuckle and ruffled his hair. He could have moaned when your fingers grazed over his scalp, he was damn near purring, leaning into your touch and catching your thumb between his teeth. You gasped in faux indignation and delivered the lightest of slaps to his temple. But a soft smile spread across your utterly kissable lips. “Tragically, I would do it any day.”

Mattheo felt something pull tight in his chest at your words, a warmth he wasn’t prepared for, something dangerous in its softness. He covered it the only way he knew how: with a smirk, with teasing, with the same careless charm that usually kept people at arm’s length. But it didn't quite work with you. Not when you were this close, your hands so gentle against his bruised skin, your eyes holding none of the judgement he was used to. He forced a chuckle, tilting his head as if unaffected, as if you hadn’t just unraveled something inside him with a single sentence. “Tempting idea, if it gets you all over me.”

It was meant to be flirty, meant to be light, but even he could hear the edge of truth beneath it- because, Merlin help him, he was starting to think he liked being taken care of by you. And that? That terrified him more than any fight ever could. The little laugh that spluttered past your lips didn't improve his precarious situation. “There are easier ways to do that, you know,” you said, quirking an eyebrow. “Not involving sending people to the hospital wing, I mean.”

Your heart skipped a beat when Mattheo's expression darkened visibly, as if the storm you'd managed to calm for a few minutes was brewing up again, swirling in his dark eyes. His jaw clenched dangerously and again, his grip on your thighs tightened as if on instinct. “They deserved it. Like I'd ever let them talk about you like that and do nothing." You could tell he was still agitated by what Seamus had said, his knee rocking restlessly and the words practically spat out of his mouth.

Frowning, you dabbed at his cheek and drew soft circles on his blooming bruise. “Mattheo, people just need time. Before I came here, Ron apologized to me. It will be the same with the rest, they'll get used to it.”

But your attempt to soothe his simmering wrath, it only seemed to spur him on as his eyes hardened. “Did you forgive him?” he asked through clenched teeth, still looking up at you with unwavering attention.

You hesitated upon recognizing the barely suppressed fury in his tone and leaned down peck his healing lips. Though his lips chased after yours, you didn't want to risk reopening the cut and drew away decisively. “Well,” you said, ignoring the way one of his index fingers started to draw a line up your thigh and the goosebumps it left in its wake. “Yes,” you confessed, “for what he said about me, at least.”

A harsh “tch” made its way past his lips and the next words he nearly growled. “Of course you did.”

Feeling a pinch of defiance, you got a hold of Mattheo’s hand that had been wandering up to your skirt and placed it firmly back on your knee. “So, you think I was wrong to forgive him?” you asked with a frown.

For the first time this evening, Mattheo tore his eyes away from yours and fixed them instead on a spot somewhere on your belly where your shirt was tucked neatly into your school skirt. “‘m not gonna sit here and pretend I don't benefit from you being so damn forgiving. But I guess that's what you have me for now.” Though he shrugged, you saw that his shoulders were tense and caught his fingers wrapping around each other, squeezing the bleeding knuckles that only emitted more blood.

“You’ll be my guard dog for the bad guys then?” you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. A heavy tension had set upon the room, weighing down on you like a thick blanket. His touch and his intense, dark eyes paired with his agitation and words of boiling rage. The inevitable mood swings, when he'd attempt to shield his true feelings behind a well crafted mask of sarcasm and flirtatious teasing. Mattheo Riddle was a rollercoaster of a man, and it was hard to keep up with him at times. But then again, you'd always known that.

Instead of switching to a more conversational and casual tone, Mattheo suddenly brushed your hand off. You could practically see it in his eyes, like closing shutters of a dimly lit house. Mattheo was closing himself off, and he moved his head so your arm fell helplessly to his side. His hands had detached themselves from your thighs as his fingers seemed to look for another smoke in his inside pocket. “You're wasting your time, love. Not like a few bruises are gonna kill me.”

With an almost exasperated sigh, you crouched down before him so that you were now the one looking up at him and closed your fingers around his red and slimy hands. Not a muscle twitched in his face, it seemed to have frozen over into a mask of indifference. “Mattheo, I want to,” you said, firmly and in great earnest, “I don't want to see you hurt. Please-” your voice dropped down to a low whisper, “please let me help you.”

Fuck. You'd used the magic word, whether it had been conscious or not. Mattheo could never resist you pleading so sweetly, looking up at him with those caring, loving eyes, holding a gaze so heavy with tenderness as he'd never experienced it before. Your hand reached out to him, and he flinched away for the split of a second, knowing your touch would be too much, would burn down all barriers and barricades he could flee behind to hide from your disarming kindness. When your hand cupped his face softly, he damn near shuddered under your hold, leaning into your touch and looking up at you with blazing eyes. “You're really gonna waste those pretty hands on fixing me up, huh?”

You let out a smile laugh, aghast at how he could be flirty even in the most grim of circumstances, with blood running down his face. Shaking your head, you got a hold of his hands and started to treat his bashed in knuckles. “I think these pretty hands are put to good use.”

Seeing his lips quirk up into a smirk, you knew what he was gonna say before he did, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “I think I know a way to put them to better use.”

“You are a menace onto the world, Mattheo,” you chuckled in disbelief and his smile only seemed to widen. Dropping his right hand, you reached for his left one and started dabbing a soothing creme onto his scabby knuckles, moving your index finger in small, careful circles over the wounds.

Mattheo leaned forwards slightly, seeking your gaze with his distracting enigmatic eyes. “Mmm, keep touching me like that and I might start purring.” You delivered a light push to his torso in a feeble attempt to free yourself from his distracting proximity, but your eyes widened in alarm when Mattheo failed to conceal the lightest of winces. Immediately, he attempted to distract you with another charming smile, but your nurse instincts knew greater obstacles.

“Take off your shirt,” you said firmly and gave him a short glare. To your surprise, he didn't quirk one flirty brow at you and no low teasing whistle made its way past his lips. Instead, he turned and held your steady gaze hostage as he slipped his hand from yours and worked on the buttons of his shirt. You felt almost burned by his chestnut eyes as his fingers escaped your sight and he shrugged off his white shirt in a singular motion.

When your eyes wandered down his torso, you felt your breath catch in your throat- but not in a good way. The bruises and fresh cuts were bad enough, but it was his scars that truly stunned you. They were spread all over his upper body, some faded and thin, others deep and jagged and alarmingly recent, craving stories you weren't sure you could handle knowing across his skin. Your fingers, trembling slightly, hovered over a particularly brutal mark near his ribs, but you couldn't bring yourself to touch it, afraid of hurting him, afraid of what it might mean.

Were those all a product of his fury fueled fighting? Many of the fresher scars didn't look like the consequence of a hallway brawl. They looked like remnants of cruel torture, the kind you'd only ever seen in your healing books about treating wounds inflicted by dark magic. How many times had he been hurt like this? And worse- how many times had no one been there to patch him up? The thought sent a dull ache through your chest, made your heart clench and sadness settle heavy in your stomach.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, but he wasn't smirking anymore. His expression was guarded, wary- like he was waiting for you to flinch back, pull away, see disgust settle upon your features. But all you could think of was how much pain had he been carrying alone? Without your consent, you felt your eyes well up with tears and averted them, pretending to study the more recent bruises. But the deep, brutal cuts stood out to you as if there was a stagelight upon them, and you felt a stubborn tear slip past your defenses and roll down your cheek.

Before you could brush it away and pretend it had never been there, you felt rough pads of fingers under your chin, guiding you to look at the one they belonged to. Mattheo's brows were scrunched together in what seemed like worry. It was an unusual look on his face, it somehow didn't seem to match his features, as if someone had pulled and arranged them into an awkward interpretation of care. But you knew better. You knew he wasn't used to showing any kind of emotion, much less worry, care or empathy. All of which would be considered a weakness, and Mattheo couldn't allow himself to be weak.

Mattheo Riddle was an animal because his life had been guided by a single driving force: staying alive, making it to the next day. Roughening up with each new hardship was an adaption, a natural evolution. Hardening was a necessary precaution, because care for anyone else would mean less care for himself, and he needed all he could get. You knew what a precarious line he walked, and how eager the world was to see him fall. Because you had been them, and you had been watching. Only now did you realize how much.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding almost insecure. Though you tried to keep it together, this show of vulnerability only added to the pile weighing in on your poor heart that belonged to him way too much already. You tried to smile, but another tear made its way past your lashes and down your cheeks and your breath trembled audibly.

“I'm just-,” you said, unsure how to properly wrap the emotions welling up in you up in a sensible string of words, how to explain. “I'm just so sad,” you finally managed to confess weakly, plainly, the words so flat you could have slapped yourself. “For you,” you clarified, when his brows twitched with irritation, the urge to rid you of anything that might be dissatisfactory to his princess. “For all the pain in your life. I wish you hadn't needed to go through it.” Your voice was a mere breath, a dying whisper on your tongue. Finally, your shaking fingers lay upon the largest scare with such care that he would barely be able to feel it. “I wish I'd been there with you.”

“No, you don't,” he said firmly. Something flashed in his eyes, almost like panic, like a deer in the headlights as he imagined you with him, within his fathers reach. But they hardened the split of a second after. “Hear me, princess? You don't.” You couldn't help yourself, you leaned into his touch and his hand seized your neck, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

For a long while that felt like an eternity and a second at once, he didn't speak, only looked at you. Your care had taken him off guard. You'd shed tears for him. Nobody had ever cared about him like you did, with an unconditional love like yours, with a kindness like yours. Nobody had ever shed tears for him. He should have felt bad that you were crying for him, especially when he himself would say some of these wounds were deserved. If not for his direct action, then for the crime of his existence. But he couldn't deny the feeling of stupid stupid relief at seeing you care so deeply.

Having calmed your tears, you wiped the last remnants from your cheeks and gave him an apologetic look. But before you could even open your lips to mutter an apology, his free hand seized one of your wrists and the intensity with which his eyes met yours made any attempt at speaking die on your tongue. Slowly, as if giving you the chance to pull away any second, he guided your hand towards him until it touched the skin of his shoulder, one of the more faded scars. It felt hot against your hand, even though you'd made sure to warm your hands up before treating him.

Still keeping your gaze hostage, Mattheo slowly moved your hand, moved it over his collar bone and down his chest, running over smaller and bigger scars, clean and brutal ones. He didn't blink once, only looking into your helpless eyes as he made you touch every single scar on his body. When he let go of your wrist, it fell limbly against your side and the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips as he crooked his head at you. “See? Now they’re beautiful.”

A shaky breath left your lips and hung in the air between you, like a question. He answered as he tilted his head slightly and reached out to you in a way that didn't need hands. When you lowered your lips onto his, they were still impossibly soft from the soothing effect of the serum. His moved gently against yours, missing the usual heat and settling for a tender caress. His hands settled on your thighs once more as he caught every shaky breath with his lips. You knew he was no man of words, a stranger to comfort, but he had the right instincts.

After a good minute, you parted and you directed your eyes at his body once more. You were still here to treat him, after all. So, you sat down on the bed beside him, made him turn and face you and started applying diptam to his bruises. Checking that no ribs were fractured, you ran your hands over his sides and could practically feel him swallowing down a provocative comment.

When you were finished, you pulled away from him and stored your flasks in your bag. As you looked back at him, you felt your heart skip a beat. The neutral healer’s eye had been replaced, you could no longer see Mattheo's body as just another body to be treated. He was undeniably, unfairly beautiful. The sharp cut of his collarbones, the taut muscles beneath scarred skin, the way his stomach tapered down in a way that made your stomach twist. Even battered and bruised, sitting on his bed beneath your healing hands, he carried himself with, it seemed, effortless strength. Every line of his body was shaped by a lifetime of fights, of survival.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, warmth creeping up your neck as your eyes traced the ridges of his abdomen, the way his chest rose and fell with steady breaths, his dark gaze flickering over you like he knew exactly what you were thinking. And maybe he did- because when you finally dragged your eyes back to his, that damn smirk was back, lazy and knowing, and Merlin help you, it only made him more infuriatingly attractive. You felt heat rise in your cheeks and averted your eyes, afraid they might linger and betray your hunger for him. But of course, nothing could escape Mattheo.

When you attempted to bring some distance between you and his irresistible smile and body, he rose from the bed and strolled towards you with slow, deliberate steps. Backing away, you felt like a mouse fleeing a hungry cat, until your back met wood and your breath got stuck in your throat- audibly. Mattheo's eyes widened with pleasure at the sound and his infuriating smirk only deepened as his attentive eyes caught the way your gaze fixed on anything but him. Fucking adorable.

You even leaned back your head against the wood as his arms came up to cage you in, making you look up at him with rosy cheeks and an abashed smile. “Uh,” you said, squirming under his intense gaze, and voice shaking for a whole other reason than distress. “Don't you want to put your shirt back on?”

Mattheo chuckled at your words, he seemed to find your sudden embarrassment very amusing. “Blushing, are we?” he asked, ignoring your suggestion and inching closer until there were only breaths between your still clothed chest and his bare one. You found yourself aching for him, aching for him to close the distance, because you could never, and you would never ask it. But Mattheo only made a “tsk” sound and shook his head in playful scolding, “and here I thought you were being professional.”

Any response died on your tongue when he leaned down and all you could see was him, all you could smell was him, all you could hear was him. Your senses were overwhelmed with him, him, him, as you did your very best not to sneak a look at his bare upper body. For some reason, Mattheod seemed to be able to sense your distress, though he made no attempt to ease it. Quite the contrary. Another chuckle left his lips, growing ever more dangerous. “Relax, princess, you can look. I don't bite, not unless you want me to.”

“I-” you managed to say before the look in his dark eyes sealed your lips just as effectively as a charm might have. He leaned in even further until his breath fanned your lips and you closed your eyes in unfulfilled expectation. “Fucking hell,” he murmured into the little space between you, “you're adorable when you try to pretend you're not flustered. Tell me princess-” Without a warning, he grabbed your wrist and brought your hand to his chest once more, this time running it over his abs. His devious eyes seemed to notice every reaction, every nervous flicker of your eyes. “Do you want to touch me?”

Not trusting your voice, you nodded and he cooed, running your hand up to his chest and down again. Again, that suffocating smirk. “I know you want to look at me,” he said, “wouldn't even need legilimency for that. Go on. I'm yours now, remember? You’re allowed to look, princess.” For a moment, you managed to keep up the act, but then, your eyes flickered down to his body and you felt yourself shiver with desire. God, he was beautiful.

Suddenly, his hands released your wrist and found their way to your waist, pulling you with him as he walked slowly over to his four-poster. You felt almost dizzy from looking into his eyes, as if they were black holes pulling you towards him with irresistible force. Your heart nearly leaped from your chest when a light push made you flop down onto his mattress and he followed suit, swallowing all forms of protest as his lips clashed into yours with fiery heat.

The kiss was demanding, it had the edge the previous one had missed. Mattheo kissed you as if he wanted to devour you whole, as if he wanted to claim your lips as his forever. His rough hands dug into the flesh of your waist and guided you slowly to lie on your back, exerting full control over you. Yet you'd rarely felt more content, experienced such a thrill as when one of his hands cupped your cheek and angled your jaw just right for his lips to wander down your neck and leave red marks in their wake. There was little Mattheo loved more than marking you up, molding your soft skin into a shape of his liking, sully it with marks of his claim on you.

When he reached the spot just below your ear, your breath hitched in your throat and Mattheo damn near groaned into your neck. Your smell overwhelmed him, the feeling of your soft skin on his, listing to your labored breathing and you. You laying in his bed, in his sheets. When he was satisfied with the mark he was working on, he forced himself to part from your neck, from your skin, to hover above you. Your lips were kiss-bitten and slightly swollen, fresh hickeys adorned your neck and writhed so sweetly in his bed. His. This was where you belonged, with him, and he with you.

Your breathing was uneven as you looked up at Mattheo, his dark eyes glinting dangerously as they raked down your clothed figure. A crease appeared between his brows as he lowered himself once more, but refusing to close the distance between the two of you. His fingers played with the hem of your shirt that had come untucked at some point and his voice was nearly a growl. “Think we should be equal, don't you, princess?” His voice was heaving just slightly, enough to make him maddeningly irresistible. “Why don't you take this off?”

Though thoroughly flustered by your current predicament, by the way his bare chest moved against yours and the pads of his fingers brushed experimentally over the exposed skin of your waist, you managed to give him a small smile. “Why don't you?”

Something changed behind the guarded curtains of his eyes, something shifted, like a beast awoken from slumber. Mattheo chuckled dryly against your lips when suddenly, a resounding rip reached your ears. You flinched when he literally tore your shirt off of you, buttons flying in every direction. Your gasp was muffled by his lips as they crashed into yours once more, chaotic and wild, as he worked on discarding what was left of your shirt. In dire need for air, you pulled away and pushed at his chest lightly. “Jesus, Mattheo, my shirt!”

“Be that damn cheeky again and I'll do the same to your skirt,” he said lowly before propping himself up just enough to get a proper view of your exposed upper body. His eyes were captured with fascination, unable to tear themselves away from the soft skin, the curve of your breasts and your damn white lace bra. Fuck, if you hadn't looked enough like an angel already. Unsuspectedly, he could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage, his fingers almost trembling as he ran them up the side of your belly, over the soft flesh, until they reached your bra. Shivering deliciously beneath his simple touch, you looked up at him with your doe eyes and he felt the conflicting desires to absolutely ruin you and impale himself on a stick for touching something so damn holy with his sullied hands.

Sitting up slightly, you seemed to misinterpret his lingering stare and crossed your arms over your chest. Immediately, his shot forward to seize your wrists and pin them above your head, unable to hide the hunger brimming behind his cold facade. “Fucking beautiful you are,” he said gruffly and reveled in the way your cheeks heated up, the soft tint of pink. His eyes were drawn to the hickies on your neck and Merlin did they look good on you.

Your chest was heaving under his intense gaze as he dipped his head down to kiss, nibble and mark all along your collarbone. “Take that off.” You complied immediately, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra and discarding it somewhere to the side. “Won't someone- ah!” You let out the a high-pitched squeak when he bit down on the flesh just above your breasts and could hear him breathing in deeply. Determined, you tried again as his lips made their way down the valley of your breasts. “Won't someone come in?”

“No one who wants to keep their head,” he growled and you whimpered when he turned his attention to one of your tits. He let go of your wrists in favor of cupping the other and rubbing circles around your sensitive bud, making you stifle a soft mewl. “So, what about that skirt?” He pressed and your now free hands quickly made their way down, tugging at the waistband of your skirt. Impatient, one of his hands slapped yours away and pulled the skirt down your legs, along with your thights, leaving you with nothing more than your panties against the heated air of his dorm.

Mattheo buried his fingers in the soft flesh of your thighs and you could feel him against your thigh, feel his arousal. It was somewhat calming to know that he was just as effected as you, though he wasnt yet mewling helplessly. You felt his hot breath on your skin as his lips travelled down, down your belly, leaving a trail of unexpectedly soft kisses and whispering into your soft flesh as if in holy confession. “Merlin, you’re so fucking beautiful, can't believe it, cant wait to hear you scream my name-”

If you’d been blushing before, you definitely were now. Something hot seemed to pulsate in your cheeks as your heart fluttered with every word he spoke into your skin, spoken in the tone of a starving man praying for salvation.

Mattheo was in love with the little sounds you made as his lips made their way down your body, his fingers brushing over spots he knew would have your skin break out into goosebumps. Merlin, how he relished how responsive you were, how your soft, pliant body seemed to mold into his every touch and how your helpless little gasps and suppressed mewls sounded like music in his ears. He’d have you screaming for him in no time, have you screaming his name, and his heart raced in eager expectation.

But he had to take it slow with you. For one, he knew he was far more experienced than you were- when it came to the physical sense. But he’d never done it like this. With actual love behind it. The act of sex had always been about selfish pleasure on the one hand and power on the other. The power of someone else’s reactions, the satisfaction of knowing they despised him as they fell apart under his touch, that he’d be their dirty fucking secret but so powerless in that moment. There was no love behind it, just sex and power.

But now, he had to overthink. You were so perfect, so soft and gentle, so he had to try and be gentle with you, too- because you deserved it more than anyone. Mattheo was well aware that you deserved someone better than him, someone less tainted, less selfish, and better at loving you. But the heavens should strike him down if he couldnt give you the best time out of anyone in this damn castle. But it had to be perfect. It had to be just right.

As he reached your pubic bone and his deft fingers closed around the waistband of your underwear, you squirmed slightly and felt goosebumps spread all over your skin, in spite of how damn hot it was. “No no no, don’t run away from me now, princess,” he muttered against the skin of your pubic bone, and when you glanced down at him, you saw him look up at you with the utmost devotion and a carnal need that had you gasp lightly. Both his hands were on your thighs as he rested his chin on one of them and looked at your through his long dark lashes. The tension seemed to mount between the two of you, you realized he was waiting for something as heat crept up your neck.

Then, without any warning aside from a small twitch of his lips, he leaned down and blew a gust of air against your clothed core. A high-pitched yelp left your lips and he chuckled darkly, slowly pulling at the waistband of your panties. And even still, he was fixing you in place with those criminally seductive eyes of his. “What do you want me to do, princess?” he asked with raised brows and you swallowed thickly, chest heaving as you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. Your wide, pretty eyes almost had him folding for you, but he wanted to hear you say it. Wanted nothing more than for you to disregard your bashfulness, whatever means necessary.

But you found yourself unable to answer, not with the way his eyes bore into yours and you hoped he would read your desire in your mind, so you wouldn't have to say the words that felt so utterly filthy,you could never say it. Let alone the thought had your cheeks burn with shyness and you shook your head shakily, looking at him with pleading eyes. His teasing smile grew when suddenly, you felt his hand cup your clothed cunt, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. “Want me to eat you out like you deserve, princess?” he asked, smiling evily at your abashed whine, “Salazar, I bet you taste sweeter than sugar.”

“Mattheo,” you breathed, whether to spurr him on or to warn him you didn't know, but he cooed. “I know, princess, I know.” His hand drew away, but was soon replaced by his index finger drawing lazy circles over the fabric of your underwear. With a disgustingly smug look on his face, his eyes raked over your slightly trembling form as you practically shook in anticipation.

You looked so fucking sweet, barely holding it together, blushing and stuttering and he hadnt even properly touched you yet. Though he had planned your first time with him to be all about you, he could feel himself harden painfully as he burned to seek relief against the mattress. But if Mattheo could do one thing, it was to disregard his needs.

“Tell me, princess,” he drawled as he kept rubbing painfully slow circles, barely teasing your clit. Though you would never mentioned it, you’d heard from the other girls in your dorm how good he was in bed, you knew he was teasing you deliberately. “Anyone ever eaten you out before?” Hesitating for a split second, you shook your head and saw his brows twitch. He hummed lowly. “What fucking losers.”

You stifled a moan when he slipped his hand under your lace panties and grazed the rough pads of his fingers over your most sensitive spot. “There weren't a lot of them,” you almost whispered and his eyes snapped up at you. “A-actually just one, really.”

An almost mocking smile adorned his lips. “Really now? And how was it?” Somehow, he already knew the answer, you could see it in his eyes, the quirk of his brow, the edge of his smile. Whether it was legilimency or he had somehow read it off the curves off your body, you didnt knew. You only knew he’d derive great pleasure from hearing you say it.

“‘t was pretty short,” you managed to croak out and gasped when Mattheo’s fingers finally released you from his tortuous teasing and twirled around your clit in a way that had you mewl loudly. Embarrassed, you slapped your hand over your mouth, but his eyes hardened and he fucking pinched your clit, making you squeak in a mix of pleasure and pain.

“None of that, princess,” he muttered in a commanding tone, “I wanna hear you, if you want me to make you cum. You do want that, don’t you?” Bashfulness, paired with his diligently working fingers, made you whine pathetically and he smirked. “That’s what I thought. Be a good girl and take those hands off your mouth, yeah?” With shaking fingers, you did and he tutted softly. “Atta girl. Now lie down.”

In a twisted way, it went to his head, how quickly you let yourself sink into the mattress, how eagerly you obeyed his command, how much you trusted him with yourself. You could still afford to be trusting, he realized, other than him. But he would fucking make sure you’d never lose that. He’d never let the world wash away your kindness, he’d kill anyone who tried.

With an impatient grunt, he pulled your panties off and threw them somewhere to the side. A shudder went through him when he came face to face with your perfect cunt. Merlin, you were so damn soaked. Mattheo felt pride swell within him, so unlike the selfish satisfaction he'd gained from others' pleasure. Oh, how long he’d imagined this these past few weeks, having you all pliant and soft under him, making you fall apart on his tongue. But fuck did your sweet smell call out to him, so that he couldn't waste an time.

When his tongue came into contact with your clit, you squeaked in a mix of surprise and a sudden surge of pleasure, but Mattheo barely gavce you any time top adjust to the feeling. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason in the way he was practically delving into your soaked cunt, as if he meant to suffocate himself in it. His tongue leaped at your core, then sucked on your clit in a way that had you seeing stars and you moaned powerlessly as you became putty in his hands. Mattheo ate you out like a man starved, and every single on of your moans was like music to his ears. His tongue swirled around your clit and a high-pitched mewl fell from your lips, so addictive that he had to do it again, and again, and again-

Mattheo threw your legs over his shoulders to find a new angle and your hands shot down to bury themselves in his soft curls. You tried not to tug too hard, but when he licked one long stripe up your cunt, moaning so fucking filthily, you couldn't help but hold onto him as if he was your lifeline. And Merlin, how he loved it. Loved the way your fingers dug into his curls, loved the way you pulled at them in response to his ministrations, how he could feel your fingers quiver when his came down to your cunt to ease open your entrance.

When he slipped a first finger inside, you practically whimpered and Mattheo could’ve sworn he lost his sanity right then and there. He added another finger to your sweet little cunt and scissored them, pushed them in and out of your glistening folds, angled them upwards and unerringly hit the spot that had you break for him so fucking deliciously. What he didnt expect was for you to breathe a mewl of his name that went straight to his aching cock. Oh, you little minx.

He chuckled against your sensitive bud and your breath hitched in your throat. “Say it again,” he murmured against your folds as his fingers and tongue worked tirelessly to bring you to your high. “Say it, my name, say it.” You didn't even need his instructions, the repeated high-pitched moans of his name rolled off your tongue as if it were the only word you had ever known and, glancing down, you saw him grind his hips into the mattress. Your hips bucked against his face when the pleasure mounted up to new heights and he accelerated the speed of his tongue and fingers.

Allowing himself one look at you, he wished he could engrave the sight into his skull: you, shaking and blushing under his ministrations, whimpering helplessly and writhing in his sheets. His sheets, his girl, all his. Even his mind was growing hazy, but he willed himself to stay focused for you as you got closer to your high. You were on cloud nine, feeling only pure bliss and goddamn had everyone been right about him: Mattheo Riddle knew what he was doing. His deliberate movements overwhelmed your senses with unknown pleasure and your thighs started shaking, as did your fingers.

“‘M close,” you barely managed to breathe out, lips quivering with the intensity of the orgasm you felt building up in your core.

You weren’t sure if he’d heard you, buried between your thighs, but his fingers only picked up speed, his tongue flicked against your clit and with a guttoral moan, you fell apart on his tongue. You could almost see the gates of heaven as pleasure unlike any you’d experienced before wiped any and every thought from your head but him, him, him. Mattheo worked you through your high as you kept mewling his name as if in prayer. How ridiculous, someone as heavenly as you praying to someone as depraved as himself- and how utterly twisted it was that he enjoyed it so fucking much.

Even as you began trashing in his hold, he couldn't stop, couldn't have it be over, couldn't depart from your sweetness. “Mattheo, ‘s too much,” you whimpered, but he was like a man possessed, kept going as if he couldnt stop himself. “I can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, lapping up your juices, and you couldn't help yourself. As you felt a scream build up in your throat, you ripped your hands from his hair, earning a grunt of displeasure, and threw them over your mouth to muffle the loud cry. He stopped.

For a second, relief flooded over you, but then his face entered your field of vision as he hovered above you. His curls were as messy as you'd never seen them before, due to your restless hands, and your juices covered the better half of his face, making his lips glisten. His pupils were blown wide and a frown adorned his beautiful face, a frown that made you breath hitch and goosebumps spread all over your skin.

“Sorry,” you gasped, so short on breath as if you’d just run a marathon. “Sorry, Mattheo, I couldnt-”

His frown softened when he heard your voice quiver, looked into your pleading eyes. You were so fucking sweet, he’d never even think of punishing you. No, he only wanted to spoil you rotten, see the bliss in your eyes and hear his name on your tongue as he pushed you over the edge.

“‘S fine,” he sighed, wrapping an arm around your waist and lowering himself down to meet your lips. You seemed taken aback to taste yourself on his lips, making him smile into the kiss, but then, you opened your soft lips to allow his tongue access into your mouth and readily gave in to its push. Feeling his skin against yours, chest against chest, your tits pressed against his sternum and his sweat mingling with yours. It was so intimate you sighed into the kiss, which made him chuckle lowly.

Just then, you felt it. Something hard, clothed, dig into your thigh, and a trembling, daring hand of yours slipped between your intertwined bodies and grazed the tent in his pants. Mattheo let out a sharp hiss and his lips departed from yours to bite down on your ear lobe teasingly. “Well, aren’t you nice, always thimkin’ of me?”

You ignored his comment, sittin up a little to establish eye contact. Something was burning on your tongue, something you needed to ask before anything else happened between the two of you. Your heart beat nervously against your ribcage, but when you met his chestnut eyes, you felt all worry wash away in an instant. “What is it, princess?” Mattheo asked, crooking his head in a way that had his curls fall adorably into his eyes.

Before he could, you brushed them away softly and kept your hand on his cheek, as if to stabilize yourself. “I- I want to keep going.” God, your cheeks burned from just these words and he took notice with a light smile. Mattheo made no attempts to interrupt you as you searched for the right words in your head, arranged them in order, just to discard them. You weren’t good at this, he was, he could just talk about this kind of thing without turning into a blushing mess.

“Mattheo?”

“Hm?” he made expectantly as one hand of his started rubbing slow circles on your hip. “I-” you broke off and wet your suddenly dry lips with your tongue. God, this was so embarrassing you wanted to crawl in a hole and die. “I’ve heard from others about- well-,” you stuttered hesitantly and Mattheo, slowly piecing it together, grinned teasingly, only worsening your embarrassment. With a shaky breath, you dared to meet his eye and decided just to get it over with. “Would you mind not being as- as rough on our first time? I mean, now? It’s not that I don’t- I mean, I just-,” you rambled but he placed a quick peck on your lips, effectively shutting you up.

His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, more open than you’d ever seen them, more vulnerable, more loving. “Hey, hey, princess. We do it exactly the way you want, the way you enjoy, alright?” he said, still drawing soothing circles on your skin.

But you frowned lightly, brows drawing together. “But that’s not right,” you protested, “what about you?”

For the split of a second, Mattheo was startled, simply because he didn't remember ever being asked this question by anyone. But of course you would. You, with the kind smile and the soft hands and the warm look in your eyes. You, who never failed to think of him even when he really didn't want you to. But who was he kidding, it felt fucking amazing to know how much you cared about him.

“I’m getting my fair share of pleasure either way,” he smirked against your lips, playfully pinching the skin of your hip. You nodded slightly, your hand shakily resting upon his clothed cock once more and he covered the shaky breath that left his lips with a growled chuckle. “Careful there, princess,” he teased, head dipping down to trail kisses up your jaw, “You’re playing with fire.”

Nothing could have prepared him for the next words that left your mouth as you brought your other hand to his chin to make him look at you. “Then maybe I want to burn with you.”

Something seemed to snap within Mattheo and he surged forward, stealing the breath out of your lungs as he cradled your face and kissed you with such force you fell back into the sheets. Your chest heaved against his as you brought your hands to his hair and he groaned into the kis, biting down on your bottom lip. “We don’t have to do it tonight,” he managed to rasp against your lips, summoning his last remnants of morality that kept him from ruininmg you right here, right now, and drinking up every single sound of pleasure you made.

“I want to, Mattheo,” you whimpered as his hand found your clit once more, rubbing slow circles over the oversensitive bud. “I want you.”

“Fucking hell, primcess,” he straight up moaned and your breath hitched when he ground his clothed erection against your bare core. But you didn't let up, bucking your hips up to meet his and mewling when the fabric of his trousers rubbed over your clit so deliciously.

“Please,” you breathed against the shell of his ear when he started sucking on the already blooming hickeys on your neck again. “Please, Mattheo, I need you.”

Holy hell, your pleading shot straight to his cock. Your slightly whiny tone, the begging. Please. Please. You repeated it and Mattheo wished he could hear you say it forever. He fucking loved hearing you beg, loved the way your breath hitched in your throat when he bucked his hips into yours and your fingers tightened in his curls. His impatient fingers fumbled with his belt, tugged at the zipper of his pants until he was able to discard them to some corner of the room he didnt care to know. Because all there was now was you. Your breathing, your little moans, your squirming figure beneath his and your god damn pleas that had him weak in the knees. And, of course, the feeble but of fabric still separating you from him.

Pulling his boxers down as quickly as possible without departing from your neck, he finally managed to get them off and his cock, an angry red and already leaking precum, slapped against his abdomen with a filthy sound. When you felt his erection rub over your core, no fabric seperating you anymore, you bit down on Mattheo’s shoulder to stifle a mewl and dug your fingers into his biceps. His lips departed from your neck as he hovered above you, his curls framing his face like a halo. God, how you loved that man.

Your eyes were locked with his as his cockhead kissed your clit and you let out a high-pitched gasp, giving him a needy look. But Mattheo’s usual teasing manner had been replaced by an almost somber look in his eyes, as if he wanted to savor every second of this. He didnt have to ask if you were ready, you only nodded and he pushed in the first few inches.

Mattheo moaned loudly, unabashedly, and you tightened your grip on his bicep at the uncomfortable stretch. God, he was big, bigger than the one you’d had before, and anxiety curled in your stomach that you wouldnt be able to fit him inside. But Mattheos seemed to sense your worry as his breath shuddered over your face and he pecked your temple. “Relax,” he cooed, whispering praises into your ear that had you tremble and blush helplessly.

He didnt move, and it seemed to cost him a great deal of willpower, but as his tip pressed into your entrance and you breathed in and out through your mouth, you slowly managed to adjust as the sting turned into a comfortable stretch. With a little nod, you signaled him to go further and he pushed in another few inches, straight up whimpering into your ear. The sound made you clench and his fingers tightened around your waist. “fuck, princess, you trying to kill me?”

You shook your head and buried your face in his shoulder, trying to relax to make him fit. Mattheo cooed at your determination, rubbing lazy circles on your clit to ease you in. “M’gonna make you feel so good, princess, promise.”

Finally, with a lot of patience and willpower, Mattheo managed to bottom out and both of you struggled for air. His hands wandered down to your hips as he chuckled against your ear. “Such a good girl, taking me like a champ, arent ya?” All you could do was whimper in response, you felt so damn full, could almost feel him in your stomach. But the uncomfortable stretch became more enjoyable by the second and you let out a shaky breath against his skin.

“M- mattheo,” you croaked out pathetically and he cooed once more, breathing in the scent of your hair. “Feel so full,” you almost slurred, as if your mind had gone permanently blank, and you could feel him chuckle darkly into your hair.

“Do you now, princess?”

You nodded and his grin persistet as he started to rock his hips against yours. He pulled out and slammed back in, eliciting a loud moan from you, and reveled in the way your face scrunched up with pleasure. Your fingers shakily tried to grasp anything, his biceps, the sheets, any sort of halt, as he repeated the movement and you mewled helplessly. Mattheo burned to pick up the pace, ram into you with all his might, claim you like the animal he was, but he forced himself to discipline and established a slow pace to help you adjust.

Hiding your face in his shoulder, soft moans of his name slipped past your lips that made it impossibly harder to keep up the slow pace, but for nothing in the world would he stop now. He couldn't. His cock fitted so perfectly into your warmth, your little moans rung in his ears like a heavenly symphony. This was truly heaven, had to be. Especially when he looked down on you to see your fucked-ut expression, the crown of your hair around your face. He’d been wrong. You weren't an angel. You were a fucking goddess.

Without him even realizing, he’d picked up the pace and your fingers dug into his shoulder. “M- mattheo,” you whimpered and he had to stop himself from mercilessly ramming into your perfect cunt. Instead, he let his head fall to your neck and bit down. The cry it elicited from you made him shiver and moan in response, as his teeth dug into your soft flesh in search of some sort of support. He knew it would be the most prominent mark of all, and he relished the thought of you walking around with it, cheeks heating when someone asked about it. Damn right, they’d know, know you were his.

As if you’d heard his thoughts, your shaky little voice rasped into his ear: “Yours, I’m yours.”

Had he said it out loud? He couldnt tell anymore as any and all resolve crumbled and he rammed into you, all the while craessing your soft body with his rough hands. “Fucking right,” he spat against your lips - when had you come this close? - “You’re mine.”

Nodding helplessly, you seemed to be at a loss for words, or maybe too fucked out to string a single sentence together. The thought made him chuckle amd you whined. When you squirmed, he held your hips down, desperately stopping himself from cumming before you. As he felt his own high approaching, his fingerds slipped back down to your clit to draw hurried circles on it. “You’re mine to worship, mine to protect-” He pistoned in and out of you and each push was met with soft little “ah”s from you as you threw your head back and exposed your neck to him, your neck that was covered in his hickeys and he moaned uncontrollably.

“I’ll kill ‘em all,” he rasped against your lips as you tightened around him and the pleasure seemed to pierce through you like arrows, blinding you as you squeezed your eyes shut and cried out his name. “Damn right,” he murmured and you werent even sure what you’d said anymore, only holding onto him as you release cam crushing down on you. “I’ll kill anyone who’ll ever hurt you, nobody touches my girl.” You were pretty sure that he, too, was merely rambling right now as his hips bucked against yours uncontrollably, having lost all steadyness or rhythm.

As the world slowly took form again around you, as you came down from your high, you could practically feel him pulse inside you and crashed your lips onto his. He kissed you back like it was the last thing he’d ever do. Between kisses, you managed to catch fragments of drunken ramblings, until you realized it was a singular phrase, repeated agin and again, breaking off and whispered repeatedly against your lips, in a way that had you wondering whether he himself knew he was speaking.

“I love you.”

Your hand closed around his as he pulled out in a rapid motion and you could feel him release his cum all over your quivering thighs. For a few seconds, there was nothing but your breathing, the soft heaving of your bare chests against each other, the desperate attempt to refill your lungs with air. Then, Mattheo rolled off of you and sank into the sheets next to you. His strong arms came to wrap themselves around your waist as he pulled you towards him. One hand found its way to your neck where he tilted your head just right to softly peck your lips, and again, and again, but giving you room to breathe.

This was new territory, but it felt almost natural to trace soft lines down your sides, card his fingers through your hair and swallow up your little sighs. Mattheo was a stranger to aftercare, as to so many things you had taught him, beginning with airplanes and ending with unconditional love. He’d almost feared this moment, but the tenderness seemed instinctive with you as he grabbed the towel you’d used earlier for his wounds, cleaned it with a bit of wandless magic and ran it over your oversensitive core.

Exhausted, you rested your head against his chest and your hand on the prominent scar on his abdomen. Finally, you dared ask. “What happened there, Mattheo?”

His lips came to softly caress your temple and one of his hands rubbed soothingly along the curve of your hip. “Nothing you’ve gotta worry about.”

“Yes, it is,” you said, but your tone suggested that you would not insist upon hearing the story tonight. “It’s you, and I worry about you, because-” you hesitated for just a moment before opening your eyes and looking up at him. “Because I love you too.”

Mattheo couldn’t answer, any ability to form words seemed to have left him as he stared into your wide, trusting eyes. Again, he felt that if there was a time to die, it was now, with you. But there was another voice too. You loved him. You cared for him. And he had sworn to you that nobody could ever hurt you again. So he had to stay, for you. He wished he could have expressed in this moment how much he appreciated you, how much he loved you, how he’d never thought he could love anyone, given his parents- how could someone coing from pure evil carry anything good inside him? But he did, you’d proved him wrong and he’d never stop being thankful for it. Even better, when you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, he knew you understood, even without his words that would never manage to express his true feelings.

“I hope we find those clothes all again,” you said in a lighter tone, and Mattheo was thankful for it. “Not that Malfoy finds my bra or something.”

Your nose wrinkled in disgust and he laughed quietly, rubbing his nose against your temple affectionately. “Don’t you worry, they’ll know what we did anyway. Don’t think anyone could’ve missed those screams of yours, princess.”

Instead of blushing or looking alarmed, Mattheo was surprised to find you smiling sheepishly. “About that… I think I’ll have to disappoint you.” Biting down on your lower lip, you glanced at the door. “I might have put a muffliato charm on your dorm.”

“No,” Mattheo said disbelievingly, pinching a roll of your stomach and making you squeak. But he knew you weren’t lying. “When’d you do that?”

Now, there was the slightest tint of pink on your cheeks as you shrugged. “When you sent the others out. I thought… just in case…”

“fucking genuis, my girl,” he muttered into your hair and couldn't find it within himself to be irritated at you. “And here i was thinking the whole of the dungeons had heard what a good time you had tonight. No matter,” he smirked, looking back at you and examining the work he’d done on your neck and throat. “You still have the hickeys to show tomorrow.” Mattheo would gladly admit that he took pleasure in the way your eyes widened and you scrambled up in search of a mirror.

When you swung your legs over the bed to stand, however, they wobbled so hard you plopped right back down onto the mattress. Your thighs were still quivering with the last aftershocks and felt about as stable as cooked spaghetti. You glared at him when he laughed and pointed your finger at his face. “This is your fault.”

“Indeed it is,” he admitted and sat up as well, patting your bare hip. “‘m sure you’ll manage though.”

You gaped at him in indignation. “You’re not gonna help me?” When he grinned at you, you groaned, exasperated, and rose to your feet hesitantly, wobbling carefully over to the bathroom.

“‘M gonna pick your clothes up,” he said, getting to his feet as well and grabbing a pair of sweatpants to pull on. “Not that Malfoy actually finds your bra, I’d hate to have to explain to his mother why I gauged his eyes out.”

“You’re deranged!” he heard you call from the bathroom, but he could detect the smile in your voice. When you reemerged, he let his eyes run over your bare form, satisfied with his work.

You cleared your throat. “Can I have my clothes back?”

“No need,” he shrugged, storing the heap of clothes that belonged to yours in one of his drawers. “You can borrow one of my shirts.” When he caught your confused expression, he raised his brows at you. “What, you think I’m gonna let you walk back to Gryffindor Tower past curfew in your condition? You’re sleeping here tonight.”

“And your friends?” you asked hesitantly, and he flashed you a grin that could be mean no good. “Will keep their eyes to themselves if they like them.”

Once you’d pulled his shirt over your head, you slipped under the covers and Mattheo placed a soft kiss on your temple before leaving the room to notify his friends that they were allowed in again. You could still hear your heart beating in your ears amd had to suppress a squeal when the realization of what you’d just done hit you. In order to seem like a well adjusted person, you buried your head in Mattheo’s pillow and breathed in his scent. It was almost like having him here again, and you considered asking him whether you could switch pillows in the future.

But that was talk for tomorrow. How you’d get to class was talk for tomorrow. How the fuck you’d cover up the battlefield Mattheo had left on your neck was a talk for tomorrow.

After a few minutes, you heard several footsteps outside and looked up from Mattheo’s pillow. He was the one to push the door open, and his eyes softened considerably when he saw you laying in his bed, under his sheets. Behind him, the other boys trailed in, all of whom, you noticed, were purposefully avoiding to look at you directly. Malfoy seemed to be pissed about something, and you didn't have to wonder what, and Lorenzo smiled at you again, only to raise his hands in surrender when Mattheo sent him a withering glare.

Turning back to you, a smile tugged at his lips and once more, you were taken aback by his quick mood changes. Without another word, he slipped in beside you, turning his back on the room to hide you from sight and wrapped his arms around you. His breathing was calm against your ear as his chest rose and fell against your back and his smell engulfed you whole. You found yourself relaxing completely in his arms, all tension leaving your body as you leaned into him and he pressed another kiss to your temple.

“Sleep, princess,” he murmured against your skin and you nodded, resting your head against him, clasping his hand around your belly with your own and letting sleep consume you, knowing you were the safest in his arms.

a/n: thank you all so much for sticking around till the end and going on this ride with me, I hope you liked it! 🫶

taglist: @aespaslut @kricketwritesstories @catching-fire-in-the-wind @a-little-funny @thejediprincess56 @polireader @voidangxls @artsyle @nkvgt @ashrocker123 @chimchoom @onlytenkos @yvonne-dump @alwayslatetothefandoms @ravisinghs-wife @eneywey @viylikecats @darksss5516 @cocosparkel @stereading @helendeath @workof-a-rr-t @k0z3me @nottriddlethis @urfavetheaterkid16

[character-reference-cafe]

(Former) Lowermoon 6 Kyogai Character Sheet

[dandelionwishh]

The Return of a King

Summary: After six long days away, Sukuna returns to the estate, ravenous with need for the one thing he’s been denied—you.

Pairing: Heian Era Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: Heavy tension, possessiveness, rough handling, marking, intense desire, implied smut, Sukuna being Sukuna.

Enjoy!

The estate was quiet when Sukuna returned, the moon casting pale silver light over the courtyard as his footsteps echoed against the stone path. Midnight stretched deep into the sky, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and the lingering smoke of burned incense.

Six days.

Six days without you.

Sukuna was not a man prone to patience, nor was he one to be controlled by something as baseless as longing. And yet, here he was, standing on the precipice of need so sharp it was nearly unbearable.

His body was tight, aching from the absence of your touch, the memory of your warmth haunting him in the restless nights he had spent away. Six days of war councils, territorial disputes, and bloodshed had left him with a hunger that no meal could satisfy, no conquest could quell.

He needed you.

But first—

His upper set of arms flexed as he rolled the tension from his shoulders, turning to the two retainers who had followed him through the gates.

"Report," he ordered, his voice a low rumble of impatience.

One of the men bowed deeply, quick to appease him. "All is as you left it, my lord. Your lands remain secure. The matters of the southern province have been resolved, and your concubines have remained within their quarters without issue."

Concubines.

His jaw tightened. The word meant nothing to him now. There was only one woman he had any interest in seeing tonight.

"And her?" he asked, voice sharper, hungrier.

The retainer hesitated only briefly before lowering his gaze. "She has kept to your chambers, my lord. The servants say she spends much of her time in solitude. She has not left the estate."

Sukuna exhaled slowly, something possessive curling in his gut at the thought of you waiting for him all this time. Good. You were his. You belonged to no one else.

"Leave me," he commanded, already turning toward the main wing.

The retainers bowed, stepping aside as he strode past them.

The halls were dark, the flickering lanterns barely illuminating the silk-draped corridors. His heartbeat was steady, his mind sharp, but the closer he got to his chambers, the more something primal clawed at his control.

Six days.

Too long.

By the time he reached the heavy doors to his chambers, his restraint was hanging by a thread. He shoved them open without hesitation, stepping into the dimly lit space.

And there you were.

Curled beneath the silk sheets, your body bathed in the glow of the dying lanterns. The soft rise and fall of your breathing was the only sound in the vast room, your form delicate against the massive bedding.

His fingers twitched.

You looked untouched. Unclaimed. His.

Sukuna exhaled slowly, forcing himself to undo his outer robe with deliberate slowness, the fabric slipping from his shoulders and pooling onto the floor. His muscles were tense, his body burning from the restraint he had forced upon himself since the moment he left you.

He approached the bed, lowering himself beside you, his heat instantly sinking into your sleeping form.

And then, with the gentleness of a predator savoring his prey—he touched you.

His lower hands slipped beneath the sheets, palms gliding over your bare skin, reacquainting himself with every dip and curve he had been starved of.

A soft inhale left your lips as you stirred, your body instinctively molding against his touch. He smirked against the shell of your ear, voice low and needy.

"Did you miss me, little thing?"

You shivered, the sound of his voice pulling you from the depths of sleep. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, still hazy with drowsiness as you turned to face him.

"Sukuna…?" Your voice was soft, disoriented.

He hummed, fingers trailing down your thigh, savoring the way your body reacted to his touch. "Who else would it be?"

Your brows furrowed slightly, sleep still clinging to you. "You're back…"

He grunted, his grip tightening on you. "And you're still here. Just where you should be."

Your lips parted, but whatever you meant to say was lost as he dipped his head, pressing his mouth against the curve of your throat. His teeth scraped against your skin, not quite biting, but warning��demanding.

He wanted you.

Now.

You gasped softly as his hands grew bolder, sliding over your hips, fingers digging into your flesh. His breath was hot against your ear, his voice rough with days of restraint.

"You’ve been untouched in my absence." It was not a question. It was a fact.

Your breath hitched as his grip tightened. "Of course—"

"Good," he growled. "Because the only hands that will ever touch you are mine."

You trembled at the weight of his claim, at the undiluted hunger laced in his voice.

Six days.

Six days of waiting.

Six days of need.

And now, as he pressed you into the sheets, his body heavy with intention—

You knew he would make up for every second he had been gone.

[onyxdaze]

Weird

Sebastian x f.Reader

Sebastian is jealous.

minors do not interact ~ 18+ content

Rested on a sturdy wooden lawn chair, you tilted your head against the backrest and gazed up at the sky. A backdrop of black draped in bits of shimmering silver. The symphony of the passing summer night played, and you lent it a grateful ear. Orchestrated by the moon, the trill of chirring crickets, clicking frogs and the occasional, well-appointed screech of an owl wavered in the night like a timid, shaking hand.

I’m sure the sound of the frogs makes Sebastian happy, you thought. And lowered your head before turning it until your cheek touched the cedar backrest and you faced Sebastian. Who had been quieter than normal today.

Your eyes settled on the pointed tip of his nose. Then the glass, bone-white skin flooded by a black sea of hair. It took him a second to notice you. His night-sky eyes drifting across your face while a warmth in your chest swelled. Sebastian’s full, cherry blossom pink lips stretched into an honest smile.

“Vincent seemed to enjoy himself at the egg hunt today,” Maru spoke while adjusting the settings on her telescope. The sound of her sweet, small voice captured your attention. “Even if he didn’t win,” she uttered in a hushed whisper.  

“Yeah well,” agitated, Sam squirmed in his seat and spoke to the back of Maru’s head, “Vincent could’ve won if Abby didn’t have some sick egg fetish.” Sam narrowed and pointed his piercing blue eyes at Abby, speaking louder now. “Or is beating children at a children’s game what you like best?”

Abby smirked, leaning into her chair with both her arms laying on the wooden planked armrests. She pressed her brows together, pretending to mull over Sam’s question. “Mmm, both,” she decided and relaxed her brows.

“Competition grows character,” Alex added, lifting his muscular arm in the air for a brief moment. His palm flat like a referee calling to end a match. You were the newest resident of Pelican town, having arrived a year ago. And it had been long enough to realize how quick Alex was to diffuse any matter of conflict. Even if Abby and Sam bickered like this all the time.

“Not when they are children,” Sam scoffed, and laughter bubbled in Abby’s chest and popped in the air.

“Oh!” Maru gasped, peering through her telescope, “a planet.”

“Where?” Sam shouted, scurrying to Maru’s side. Crouching down next to her small, bony frame that mimicked her half-brother’s stature.

“Here,” Maru’s mahogany hair shifted as she pulled away from the telescope and offered the eyepiece to Sam. “Do you see it?” she asked him.

“Uh huh,” Sam murmured while peeking through the telescope. His head bobbing up and down. Maru glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes trailing from Sam’s empty chair, to Abby, Alex, you, and then Sebastian. The six of you gathered outside her family’s home. Situated on the small, fenced-in patio placed outside the addition Robin had built for Maru’s room.

“Are your parents in town?” you asked Sebastian. He hadn’t talked for a while now, and you were starting to miss the sound of his voice—a low rumble like distant thunder that clapped in your mind. Still smiling, he stared at you. You watched as the realization you had spoken dawned on him. Splashes of pink crept along the apples of his cheeks and he looked away.

“Yeah,” he paused, pawing at the back of his neck. Avoiding your gaze while your eyes outlined the jutted veins on the back of his hand. “They’re helping clean up.”

“Which is code for getting drunk,” Abby explained, shrugging her shoulders. Her eyes shut and body reclined in her chair. Sunbathing in the moonlight. That must be how she keeps her ghostly, ivory complexion, you figured. “Whaddya think all our parents talk about when they drink?”

Alex’s thick brown brows lowered. And the green eyes that mimicked the shade of mint Evelyn grew in her herb garden, stared past his Greek nose and cleft chin. You knew that look. It was the look of a battleship sailing on a quiet, still night.

“About how dumb you are,” Sam’s brash answer followed after a quick glimpse at Alex’s bronze face.

“Hey!” Abby’s eyes flew open and her back straightened. Sam caught Abby’s glare and glanced at Alex. Coaxing Abby to do the same. “Oh,” she mumbled, leaning back in her seat. “I guess I can be pretty dumb sometimes,” she announced before erupting in a fit of nervous laughter.

“Sam, look!” Maru nudged Sam’s shoulder. And the two continued to examine the sky together. Abby took a peek at Alex before shutting her eyes again.

“Uh,” Sebastian tugged at the worn cuff of his hoodie, “how’d you like the festival?” His eyes fixated on the frayed ends of dark purple cotton while he struggled to push the words out.

“You must be so hot in that hoodie,” you remarked, watching him pick at it. His face beet red.

“Um,” Sebastian chuckled. His voice cracking. The hoodie made him feel less anxious, and he wasn’t quite sure how to explain that to anyone. Let alone you.

“I almost forgot!” Alex boomed, stomping his foot on the ground. His outburst extinguished the tinder of conversation Sebastian was desperate to kindle. Alex pulled his phone out of his pocket and Sebastian swallowed hard as your focus shifted. “Pictures from Dusty’s birthday party!” Alex beamed. His chiseled face and strong features glowing with pride, he held his phone up to your face. His thumb hovering above the screen and his eyes on you.

Alex needs to find something else to look at, Sebastian fumed inwardly. His jaw clenched. Alex had been flirting with you all day at the egg festival. And every time Sebastian tried to talk to you, Alex interrupted him. Sebastian knew Alex was only hanging out with them to be with you. He had overheard Penny, tell Maru, that Alex thinks Sam and him are weird.

“So cute,” you squealed, holding your cheeks in the palm of your hands, “look at that little hat.” Sebastian’s chest tightened at the sight of Alex’s smug grin and half-closed eyes.

What if Alex tells you he thinks I’m weird and you believe it? Sebastian’s thoughts made him queasy. You were the first person in a while who made him feel important. Will Alex make you forget about me? Will you stop hanging out with me?

“Check this out,” you added, taking your phone from your pocket, “this is my cat, Miso.” You held your phone in Alex’s line of sight.

“Aw,” Alex cooed. “Hey, I don’t think you have my number,” he commented, rubbing a piece of his brown, spiked hair.

Sebastian’s hands tightened into fists.

“Is it cool if I give it to you? You know,” Alex paused to think, “in case you need help with the farm or something.”  

“Sure,” you smiled, and Sebastian’s heart wrenched. “Here, add it,” you moved to pass Alex your phone. He reached out to take it from you.

Competition grows character, Alex’s words plagued Sebastian, playing in his mind. His grip on the downpour of jealousy and frustration that pounded on him loosened. A crushing pain in his chest that stung. Before he could gain control of his emotions, he had stood and snatched your phone away from you. Now towering between you and Alex.

A small, soft grunt rolled past Sebastian’s lips, realizing what he had done. His eyes flickered between your phone in his hand and the scowl on Alex’s face. Nervous, Sebastian shoved the phone into his pocket, pushing aside his carton of cigarettes.

“Have a smoke with me?” was all Sebastian could muster. His shiny black eyes pressing down on you, pleading.

“Yeah,” your tone gentle. You didn’t understand what was going on with Sebastian, but you knew he had been moody and quiet all day. Maybe he needs someone to talk to, you considered.

“Cool,” Sebastian muttered, taking both his phone and yours out of his pockets. You stood and waited for Sebastian while he set both phones down on the armrest of your unoccupied chair. Determined for your time together to be uninterrupted. As he lifted his hand away from the armrest, he noticed Alex staring at him. Sebastian glowered, and Alex’s eyes widened.

Alex had heard his fair share of tales about the black-eyed deities with sinister intentions from his Yoba-loving grandparents. And had always found Sebastian’s charred eyes to be disturbing.

“What?” Sebastian sneered.

“Nothing,” Alex shook his head side-to-side and held the flats of his palms up for Sebastian to see.

Annoyed Alex had taken it upon himself to be here, Sebastian joined your side. And the two of you wandered outside the borders of the brown picket fence.

The wet grass squished under the weight of your footsteps until you stopped at the lakeshore. Sebastian’s clumsy hand fumbled inside his pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. He stuffed the white stick in his mouth and held his cupped palm above the tip of it. You watched him bow his head. Blades of obsidian hair fell forward, and patches of pale skin peeked through them. He flicked his black, plastic lighter and an orange flame appeared. Your presence always accompanied by a persistent prickling, popping inside Sebastian’s stomach. He lit the white strip and inhaled, the cigarette twitched and then it was still. Then his whole body was still and calm for the first time tonight, and he picked the burning paper away from his mouth between two of his fingers. His lips shining and velvet pink like the petal of a cherry blossom touched by the rain. A flood of smoke poured from his mouth and formed thick, grey clouds that stretched themselves thin.

“Everything okay?” you asked. Your weak smile and downturned brows made Sebastian’s body feel heavy. He hated to see you worried.

“Yeah,” the tenderness in his voice felt like a flame quivering inside you, spreading heat through your body. He kept his eyes on the lake. The moon’s steel reflection trembling in wavering waters. Afraid if he looked at you for too long, he might give himself away. And you’d be repelled by the painful amount of desperation and longing that tormented him. You followed his line of sight and stared at the lake.

“Is there something out there?” Your question spawned a mischievous smile that lifted Sebastian’s cheekbones.

“Huh…I think I saw something dark moving in the water…,” he tapered off into a menacing silence. You blinked, then strained your eyes. Failing to see the ominous creature. Squinting, you moved closer to the lake’s edge.

 “I can’t see it,” you whined. Crouching down, you balanced yourself on your forefeet.

She wouldn’t last long in a horror movie, Sebastian supposed, leaning over you. He breathed in. The sweet floral scent of your hair tickled his nose, and he moved closer.

“Are you sure? It’s right there and it’s big,” he teased. Content to stay perched above you for the rest of the night. Determined, you tilted your body forward.

“I still—,” your balance faltered. You opened your mouth to scream, but instead a pitiful squeak toppled past your lips. Driven by instinct you latched on to Sebastian. He groaned as he tumbled forward. The force of your bodies hitting the water produced a loud smack.

Fully submerged in the lake your eyes scanned the water in a frenzy. Terrified of whatever Sebastian had seen. You felt something yank the back of your shirt, so you swam to the surface. Beads of water dripped down your face while you caught your breath.

You followed Sebastian to the bank of the lake and the two of you lifted yourselves out of the water.

“You alright?” Sebastian asked, pushing his wet hair away from his face. You sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder on the grass.  

“Yeah,” panicked you stared down into the water, “is it still there?” He raised his brows and then lowered them.

“No,” he chuckled. “I said that to scare you.”

“Oh,” you sighed, relieved. “But why?” Sebastian shrugged.

“I don’t know, why do you talk to that Alex guy?” It felt more like an accusation than a question. Confused, you narrowed your eyes and knitted your brows.

“He seems nice enough,” you responded, and Sebastian was quiet. “There’s like twenty people to talk to,” you explained in your defense, clutching a piece of your soaked shirt and squeezing it. Unsure as to why you needed a defense.  

“But do you like him?” Sebastian blurted, inwardly horrified by every syllable but powerless to stop. He had been overtaken by an all-consuming need to know.

“He’s cool, I guess,” you stared at Sebastian’s frustrated expression with your own. Is, is he… jealous? Your face softened. He looked away from you, clearly upset. And you started to put the pieces together. You had always assumed his shyness stemmed from anxiety, and Sebastian had never given you a reason to think otherwise. “Have you been mopey all day because I’ve been talking to Alex?”

“No,” Sebastian muttered, “well, yeah.” He changed his mind, his voice just above a whisper. Still avoiding your gaze.

“Hey,” you reached out and brushed your fingertips against his neck. He turned his head and his eyes bore down on you, full of shame and fear. You let your palm press down on the side of his neck and pulled him toward you. Sebastian’s shoulder cradled yours and your heart throbbed. A tingling static crackled in your belly. You closed your eyes and titled your head slightly. And felt Sebastian’s lips on yours. He cupped your face with his hands, pulling you into him and leaning further into the kiss. A lustful ache stirred inside you, coiling itself tightly and tugging at you. Your eyes fluttered open as the two of you parted.

Sebastian let go of you and his arms fell to his sides. Reaching under his thigh, he pinched himself. To make sure this was real and not another dream. Feeling punch-drunk and fuzzy, he gave himself a moment to take it all in.

The two of you stared at each other. Your hand still on his neck.  

Silence followed and a rush of panic overtook you. What if kissing him was too much? Did you misread the situation?

You started to move your hand away, but Sebastian held it in place. And lowered his head to kiss you again. His body hot despite the cool, drenched clothing that clung to his skin. It was vindicating, to know you felt the same. That you weren’t interested in Alex. Who Sebastian was certain had a head as full of air as the gridballs he worshipped. He slipped his tongue inside your mouth and blood rushed to the tip of his cock. Causing a primal urge to scream inside him, commanding him to climb on top of you. But Sebastian didn’t want to risk moving too fast and scaring you off. He pulled away, holding your hand in his. Taking your fused hands, he rested them on his thigh. Fighting the inner desire that screeched for him to place your hand on his dick.

Faces close, the two of you shared the same air. Each breath felt thick, intoxicating. Your mouth reached for Sebastian’s and your hand slid away from his to paw at his crotch. A guttural moan vibrated in his throat as your hand wrapped around his cock. Sebastain turned his head and buried it in the crook of your neck. You squeezed his hard dick and his body jerked. Pressing his lips to your skin, he muffled the whine you drew from him. Hesitant, Sebastain pried your hand away from his lap.

“Let’s go inside,” he whimpered, lifting his head up.

“Okay,” you mouthed, pressing your forehead against his. You gave him a quick peck on the lips and Sebastian held his body still for a moment. Then slowly stood.

You followed him to his house, both your footsteps heavy. Water dripping onto the wooden floors. Neither of you said a word as Sebastian led you down to the basement and rushed you into his bathroom.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he buried his hands underneath your shirt and pulled it over your head. It smacked against the bathroom tile when he threw it on the floor. Pressing his body into yours, he grabbed your waist and pushed your ass against the cabinet beneath his sink. Your wet skin clung to his hands. His mouth latched onto yours and moved in eager, synchronized movements. Engulfed in the scorching desire to bury his fat cock deep inside your pussy, Sebastian grinded his hips against yours.

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he moaned, breathing next to your ear. The warmth of his breath clouded your mind. And a blistering, fervent pang of longing ricocheted throughout your body.

“Yeah,” you whined, pushing your cunt against his clothed, hard cock. Stupid with desire.

“Mhmm,” Sebastian hummed. He closed his eyes while you kissed his neck, parting your lips and circling his skin with your tongue.

“Off,” you grunted, tugging his hoodie. Sebastian took a step back and peeled his soaked hoodie and t-shirt off his body, discarding it on the floor. His toned arms and slender body visible. His alabaster skin smooth and freckled. You moved toward him, preparing to get on your knees. But Sebastian had other plans. Grabbing both your arms, he turned you around and pushed you back towards the sink. Pressing his bare chest against your back, he circled his arms around your waist and reached for your shorts. His hands shaking as he fumbled with the gold button, eventually getting it loose and pulling both your shorts and underwear down to the floor.

You looked into the bathroom mirror hanging above the sink. And so did Sebastian. Your eyes met in the mirror. Sebastian’s face next to yours.

He stared at your chest, your tits heaving with your breath. Squeezed together inside a black pushup bra. Your face and neck pink. He kissed your cheek and ran his fingers across the skin between your belly button and your pussy. Your breath stuttered as he slid his fingers between the lips of your cunt. They moved with ease through the silk film of want that coated your pussy. He held his breath, desperate to hear the sound of your wet cunt sucking on his fingers. You pressed your back into him, mewling as he pumped two fingers inside your hole. Pushing his hard cock into the fat of your ass.

“Please,” you sobbed, body writhing against his. Eyes shut tight. “I want to feel you.”

Sebastian took a deep breath, his mind buzzing. His fingers lazily rubbing your clit. The back of your head dug into his shoulder as you leaned against him, harder. Rubbing his clothed cock with your ass.

“Bend over,” his voice hoarse. You bent your torso over the sink, elbows resting on the white ceramic. Sebastian watched as you lifted your leg up to the sink. Your pussy glistening and on display for him. He swallowed hard. And stared at the white, spackled ceiling for a moment. Attempting to gain his bearings. Afraid if he didn’t at least try to calm down, it’d be over as soon as it had started.

“Sebastian,” you whimpered. The warm blood in his cock stirred at your beckoning. And Sebastian succumbed to your request. Pulling his pants and boxers down and stroking his cock in his hand.

You watched him play with himself in the mirror. Sebastain rubbed the tip of his drooling cock with is thumb. The precum gushing from his slit, stuck to the pad of his thumb.

He moved toward you, easing his dick inside your pussy. Watching your flushed face drown in pleasure. Your moans loud and unhinged while he pushed himself inside you, crying out for him. Nearly toppling him past his limits. He reached out and grabbed your hair at the root.

“Quiet,” he grunted. His cock thrusting in out and out of your needy hole. That squeezed every inch of his dick. His belly tight. Sebastian leaned against your back and kissed your shoulder blade. “Only I get to fuck you,” he grumbled. His pace faster now. One hand desperately clutching at your hips. While the other pulled your hair. “Only I get to fuck you,” he repeated himself, louder.

“Mmm, yes, only you,” you cried through choked moans. His breaths became shorter and quicker. The sensation of your cunt milking his cock made him feel as though he had been reduced to a pulsating nerve. Everything felt so sensitive. His body burning. Sebastian cried out, his legs trembling as he came inside you. Filling your pussy with his hot cum. He laid, hunched over you for a second. Then slowly let go of your hair and pulled his spent cock out of you. His eyes followed the sight of his seed dripping from your pussy down your thigh. His breathing sporadic.

“Stay away from Alex,” he huffed.

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

(simon is originally like 6'4-6'5 but i made him about 6'10 for this hehe)

(size difference part 1)

older!ghost x inexperienced!reader where there is a big size/height difference between the two of you. you two have been dating for five months already and more than anything you both want to have sex with each other but ghost is hesitant.

one night you two were indulging in a heavy makeout session. you were seated in his lap, his scent hugging your body like his big arms wrapping around you as he pawed at u. tongues licking and and mouths sucking at each other. u felt warm n mushy on the inside, ur core throbbing as u pressed down onto his clothed, hard cock that made you shiver. if you were to look at yourself in the mirror your hair would be messy from simon's large hands running through your locks, lips kiss-bruised and hickeys littering your neck.

you kiss him before pulling away, blushing at the way the older man tries to follow your lips with his before he opens his eyes, running his strong, tattooed hands along your back then the sides of your torso.

"s-simon?" you squeak out, your small hands gently gripping onto his biceps.

simon gently kisses your lips, a small grunt sounding from his when you move forward on his erection accidentally. "yes?"

his deep, gruff voice makes you tremble with want.

your back arches a bit as he moves you even closer to him on his lap, giving you a slow, sloppy kiss as you whine softly.

"i-i--" you have a difficult time finding your words as simon squeezes your hips then smooths over the slight sting with his palm. he kisses you again, humming in acknowledgement. butterflies swarm your whole entire body--all the way to your fingertips.

he was so...big. you needed him so badly. you could feel your cunt sopping and thrumming with desire.

"'m ready.." you whisper against his lips.

"ready for...?" he asks, kissing from your lips to the corner of ur mouth down to your neck before suckingly firmly. you weave your manicured fingers through his soft hair as he sucks, his arms wrapped around your lower back bringing you closer to him as you whimper.

you swallow, biting your lower lip--eyebrows pinched upwards as ur brain gets more fuzzy. simon kisses his way back up to your lips, ur hips subtely dragging slowly on his meaty thighs and lap.

"w-want u.." u blush. you felt so flustered talking about wanting to have sex with him. or wanting to have sex in general. it took six weeks for you to feel comfortable making out with him. not because you were afraid of him, but because you had never done anything like that with anyone before.

"baby.." he kisses the corner of your mouth gently before pulling away from your lips a bit. his voice is soft and so sweet, your body feeling warmer. his left hand combs through your hair. "haven't even got ya prepared, yet.." u lean forward, pressing your lips to his before pulling away slightly.

"what do ya mean?" you ask, confusion lacing your features.

simon can tell he's gonna need to spell it out for you in order for you to get what he's saying.

"well, it's just that," he thinks for a second, running his thumb against the fat of your lower lip. "y'know, 'm a lot bigger than you.."

you blush.

your height difference was something you fucking loved. he was about 6'10 and you were..well, no where near that.

you lace your fingers with his, watching how his hand dwarfs yours completely. you kiss his knuckle gently.

"'s okay if you don't wanna do it with me.." your words are sad, and far, far, far from the truth.

he's been fantansizing about fucking you since he met you. the way he would make you feel better than anyone else has ever made you feel. he wanted to treat you right. fuck you until you saw stars, the moon, and everything above.

"aw, princess.." he kisses you again. "y'know that's not true..wanna be with you.. wanna be inside ya so fucking badly," his words make you feel hot. "just that, well, you're the smallest 've ever been with..don't wanna hurt ya."

you slowly kiss him, ur body trembling slightly. "don't care if you hurt me, j-just want you, please.."

the only thing you two had done was kiss and dry hump until you got too embarrassed to finish (simon didn't have that problem).

simon chuckles against your lips, moving so your below him on the bed. "well, i care, sweet girl..want you to feel good," he thinks for a moment, and you kitten lick his lips before massaging your tongues together. "maybe we could do somethin' else for right now if you're okay with it. get you ready.." he kisses from your mouth down to your neck, sucking. he shifts his position a bit. your thighs open a bit automatically.

he raises your shirt from your belly right before leaving small, soft, kisses on your skin. you giggle rubbing your right, sock-cladded calf along the side of his body bashfully. simon smiles, his hands running along the sides of your torso.

"want me to eat this pretty pussy? been thinkin' about tastin' you since i saw ya."

his blunt words and deep drawl make your bottom lip find its way sucked into your mouth right before you gently chew on it.

"hm?" he asks again, dragging your shirt up and off your body, leaving you in a cute pink bra, your thigh high socks on along with your navy blue pleated skirt and matching pink underwear with a tiny bow at the top.

you nod, grabbing a hold of your pink stuffed rabbit ghost bought for you one day when you were sad.

"y-yes please.."

"yeah?" he smirks a bit, and you can feel how your whole body buzzes with want.

you've never wanted someone more. your brain goes numb.

simon sees how you tug onto your bra, trying to almost rip it off. he can see the way your mind so badly wants to shut off.

"'s okay, love, i gotcha.." he lifts your back up a bit, snapping your bra off as your tits fall out, nipples hard and aching to be touched.

simon was normally an ass man, but god, he loved the way you trembled when he ran his fingers over your pert nipples, rubbing his thumbs on them as you whine and whimper.

"p-pretty please, si, need you.." your voice was soft, eyes closed as u practically drooled onto your stuffie.

"always so good," he murmurs, dragging your skirt down. his eyes fall to the big wet patch on your panties as you whine. he runs his thumb over it before getting too greedy and dragging them down your legs, discarding them on the ground.

fuck, you look so beautiful.

"gonna fuck this pretty cunt one day, sweetie..jus' gotta getcha ready, mk?"

you nod, watching the way simon's back and shoulders flex as he blows a small gust of air from his lips onto your fat button.

you whine loudly, your hips twitching.

"shh.." he shushes, kissing the insides of your thighs.

he plants a small kiss on your cunt, and you whine again.

"behave, princess..gotta take my time. been dreamin' about this."

his eyes pool with a dark shadow of lust as he slowly licks his way from the bottom of your wet cunt up to your clit, circling his tongue as you moan softly.

his hands make their way up to your breasts as they tug and pull on your pebbled nipples, your mouth dropping open as you feel overwhelmed with want.

you gently hump against his mouth as he fucks his tongue into you, squirming a bit as he opens your thighs wider, his right hand petting your socked knee.

he takes your stuffie from your hands, rubbing your nipples with its fur as he suckles on your clit, slobbering onto your cunt, your wetness dripping onto his bed.

lewd, wet sounds fill the air as your cunt pounds-- small gasps bouncing off of the walls as your moans get higher and more needy. simon's mouth harshly sucking on your engorged button, grappeling at your tits before you suddenly gush into his mouth, rubbing against his face as you cry, coming down as your boyfriend drinks down your nectar.

your brain is all mushy, all you can think about is what he's gonna do next..right before simon's arms engulf your body as he kisses you gently, sleep taking you under.

[vrystalius]

The demon outside my bedroom

(Kokushibo x hashira!fem!reader, slight spoilers for his backstory)

Every night, at the exact same time, you would hear a soft knock on your bedroom door. A large, dark figure stood in your garden, waiting to be let inside. But after sliding your door aside, you were greeted by your boyfriend’s six eyes staring back at you.

“My moonlight.”

His voice was deep and would rumble in his chest, making you shiver. After inviting your demon inside, the bedroom lights would illuminate his face. Six eyes staring expectantly at you, waiting for something. As a sign of trust, the demon would close his upper and lower two eyes, only leaving the ones in the center. He looked less demonic, perhaps he’s trying to please you by trying to look more human?

“Kokushibo.”

Your voice felt like a soothing melody to him. It calmed his mind, soul and body in an instant. When you cup Kokushibo’s cheeks, he fully leaned into your touch. He misses being with you during the day and having you close to him. Kokushibo leaned closer to your face, admiring your features. When his lips met yours, Kokushibo sighed softly. Your lips felt warm and moist, so welcoming. So intoxicating.

His cold hands would carefully hover over your neck, slowly setting down on your collarbone. Kokushibo opened all six of his eyes and let his mind engrave a portrait of you into his memory. He cannot remember his late wife, kids, friends or family. Just of his damned brother. But he wants to remember you, so that when the time comes that you are not around, Kokushibo would cherish every single memory, every single time he saw your face, felt your hands, lips, hair, for all eternity.

Ever since Kokushibo fell for you, he followed Akaza’s path and avoided eating women, and eating humans entirely. He tries to deprave himself from consuming human flesh until he absolutely needs it. He feels like he would dirty or taint you if he kisses you with the same mouth he consumes humans with. Luckily, Muzan hasn’t noticed his new diet yet. Or rather the lack of it.

Kokushibo is an extremely jealous man, and even thinking about other hashira flirting with you, makes him feel incredible rage. You can’t tell any of your colleagues about your relationship since you can’t really openly talk about dating the number 2 worst enemy of you all. So instead of telling your hashira with words that you are not single, Kokushibo took it upon himself to demonstrate it on your body.

He will nibble and kiss your whole neck, leaving obvious hickeys in places where you cannot hide them. Kokushibo enjoys making you squirm while he does this, taking pleasure from your whining and complaining. He will hold you close, holding you by your waist and neck while doing this affectionate assault.

Your skin is the sweetest, forbidden fruit he has ever tasted, and Kokushibo is incredibly grateful that he is the only man that ever experience you like this. He will make sure that he is going to be the only and the last man to ever experience you like this.

“My moon, my dearest moonlight. You are mine and I am yours, and I swear to protect you for all eternity.

💠

I’ll probably make this into a mini series, and I’ll write something similar for the other Upper Moons and Muzan. Perhaps, if someone requests it, I’ll do something similar for the hashira and a demon reader. I would like to credit my cat as a co-author.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK.

Take care of yourselves <3

The demon that… masterlist

[p0orbaby]

Kind of a blurb/fic request can be with either leah or alexia (I Thought alexia but that’s up to u!!)

Reader is out with friends while Alexia is at home relaxing when she suddenly gets a drunken call from reader, who insists that she misses her—despite having seen her just two hours ago. Slurring her words, reader confesses that she’s thinking about Alexia in a very sexy way, prompting Alexia to leave immediately to pick her up. When she arrives, reader is a complete mess, stumbling, giggling. Getting home proves to be just as chaotic, with reader bumping into furniture and clinging onto Alexia at every step. The night quickly takes a very heated turn. The next morning, reader wakes up groggy and hungover, convinced she just had the most incredible dream about Alexia. But when Alexia casually informs her that it wasn’t a dream at all, reality hits—they really did that. (also very consensual very cute very much loving)

i didn’t write the end cause i couldn’t be bothered, i do apologise

-

Alexia’s halfway through her second episode of some criminally boring Netflix docuseries when her phone buzzes.

Mi Vida calling.

Odd, since you left the flat exactly two hours ago with a declaration of “Don’t wait up, I’m going feral tonight” and a trail of expensive perfume so strong it’s still haunting the hallway.

She picks up. “Hola?”

There’s a pause. Then:

“Hi.”

It’s your voice, but two octaves too high and about seventeen degrees more chaotic. You sound like a girl who’s befriended a nightclub toilet attendant.

“Bebé?” she says, already sitting up. “Are you alright?”

“Mmmhhm. I miss you. I miss your—” you burp. Delicately. “—soul. And your boobs.”

Alexia blinks. “My soul and my boobs?”

“Yeah. Both of them. They’re connected.”

She hears giggling in the background. You again. Definitely you. Possibly you laughing at your own hand. It’s hard to tell.

“Mi amor,” she says gently, “you left two hours ago.”

“I know, but I’m in a crisis.”

“A crisis.”

“I saw someone who looked like you but it wasn’t you and it made me feel things in my—” you lower your voice dramatically, “—sexy parts.”

Alexia exhales. “Where are you?”

You list the name of a bar she knows is twenty minutes away if she speeds. She’s already grabbing her keys.

-

When she arrives, you’re outside on the curb, dramatically hunched over like a poet. One hand clutches your bag, the other is pointing at the moon.

“I’ve been narrating my emotions,” you say proudly.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Four. But one was in a fishbowl. That counts as two. So maybe six. Maths is blurry.”

You try to stand up and immediately tilt like a house in a storm. Alexia catches you, and you sigh into her shoulder like it’s your final act on earth.

“You smell like comfort,” you whisper.

“You smell like vodka and bad decisions.”

“That’s my perfume.”

She bundles you into the car with minimal grace. You keep poking her arm, like you’ve forgotten she’s real and need to check.

“Ale. Are you listening?”

“I’m driving, cariño.”

“I’m thinking about your thighs.”

She nearly swerves.

“Por favor, stop.”

“I won’t. You wore the shorts today. You know what you’re doing.”

-

Getting you into the flat is like herding a drunk cat. You knock into the coat rack. You fall over your own shoes. You try to kiss her in the elevator but miss and land somewhere near her collarbone.

“You’re a menace,” Alexia mutters, half-carrying you inside.

“I want to be your menace.”

“You are.”

In the bedroom, you finally pause. Look at her. Sober enough, somehow, to be serious for three seconds.

“I really do miss you. Even when I’m with you.”

Alexia swallows.

“I know.”

You pull her in by the hem of her shirt, clumsy and slow, kissing her like you’ve just remembered how. Like she’s the only thing keeping you vertical. She laughs into your mouth, then groans when your hands find her waist.

“Still thinking about my thighs?” she whispers, cocky now.

You grin. “Nonstop. Obsessively. Should probably go to therapy.”

“Later,” she says, already tugging you down onto the bed. “First, let me give you something to miss properly.”

And that’s how your night ends: tangled, tipsy, flushed with heat and laughter. You’ll barely remember how you got home — but you’ll remember this.

[meadowfics]

affair

anakin skywalker x f!reader

headcannons on having an affair with anakin skywalker

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact!! anakin is not married to padme here!! reader is the married one. cheating! smut and details mentioned but its not the entire thing.

it didn't take long after you and anakin first met when he admits he couldn’t stop watching you in those senate halls.

you didn't push him away, his breath was warm against your skin as he confesses everything he'd want to do for you.

that started everything.

however, you had a husband.

that didn't stop the chosen one.

months go by and the both of you create subtle signals to communicate secretly.

a quick tuck of your hair behind your ear during a senate session means you’ll meet him later, anakin leaves a single nabooan white flower on your desk, a sign he’s waiting in coruscant’s lower levels in the city.

your getaways to naboo’s lake country are your sanctuary.

anakin secures hidden villas by the water, where you spend days swimming in crystal lakes and nights wrapped in each other’s arms under starlit skies.

anakin’s touch is intense, his hands mapping every inch of you like he’s memorizing you.

in naboo’s soft grass, he takes you with a hunger that leaves you breathless, his lips whispering your name against your skin as if it’s a prayer.

on coruscant, you steal moments in abandoned senate storage rooms.

he presses you against the wall, his kisses desperate, hands sliding under your senatorial robes, the thrill of being caught fueling the fire.

after one of his jedi mission that left him away from you for six months.. he gifted you a delicate necklace, a tiny silver star from naboo, hidden beneath your high collars.

you wear it always, a secret tether to him, your fingers brushing it when your husband’s cold presence suffocates you.

anakin’s force sensitivity makes your encounters electric.

he senses your mood, knowing when to be gentle or when to match your need with fierce passion.

the jedi knight loves when his fingers are laced with yours as he brings you to the edge.

you confess your fears one night on naboo, lying in bed with the moonlight spilling over you.

anakin listens, his arms tight around you, promising he’d tear the galaxy apart to keep you safe from your husband’s corruption.

maybe a jedi knight shouldn't have those thoughts, but this relationship broke all of the rules anyways.

the sex varies.

sometimes it is slow, with lingering touches and whispered confessions.

other times it is frantic, like in a coruscant speeder after a close call, where he takes you in the backseat, both of you trembling from adrenaline and desire.

anakin writes you coded messages, slipped into your diplomatic files, filled with poetic declarations of love.

you read them in your chambers, heart racing, knowing each word risks everything.

you share quiet moments too, like watching naboo’s twin moons rise, your head on his chest.

he talks of a future where you’re free, his voice soft but fierce with conviction, painting a life you both ache for.

in the villa’s candlelit baths, he washes your hair, his fingers gentle, kisses trailing along your shoulders.

these tender acts feel as intimate as your passionate nights, binding you closer.

your husband’s suspicions grow as the years go by, forcing you and anakin to be more cautious.

once, he nearly catches you in a senate balcony, but anakin’s quick thinking (using the force to distract him) saves you, though the close call leaves you both shaken.

anakin’s black robes, a symbol of his jedi mastery, become your obsession.

you love peeling them off him, revealing the man beneath.

anakin's scars and strength is yours to worship in the privacy of your escapes.

despite the danger, you can’t stop.

every touch, every stolen night, feels like defiance against your cage.

anakin’s love is your rebellion, and you’d burn it all down to keep him, even if the galaxy crumbles.

one night, in your private vacation home on naboo, tucked among blooming gardens, anakin leads you to the grand bed draped in silken sheets, his eyes dark with want.

he undresses you slowly, reverently, murmuring, “you’re perfection, my star.”

the naboo moonlight streams through the windows as he lays you down, his hands trembling with need yet gentle, praising, “no one else could ever have me like this, y/n, you’re my everything.”

anakin's kisses trail fire across your skin, each one a vow.

your bodies move together in a rhythm that’s both desperate and sacred, anakin’s voice husky as he gasps, “you feel like heaven, love, I’d give up everything just to stay here like this forever.” his words unravel you, the intensity building until you’re both lost in each other.

afterward, he holds you close, your bodies tangled in the warm afterglow, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.

your husband never found out, even after you left him and secretly married anakin shortly afterwards.

masterlist