#mind my jumbling words. its the only way I know how to get thoughts across lol

[laprimera]

just some monday maintenance going on by updating the rules and starting to rework Geeta's about page to fit current arcs and better writing in general.

there's just a few little things I need to bring up cause they're important! please be sure to like any posts I made for you whether that's a starter or a meme or an inbox thing, etc. at least once. this sounds tedious and an afterthought, and trust me I think so too, but my anxiety literally spikes throughout the whole day cause Im legit 1000000% terrified of coming to you in any way to make sure that you've seen it. social anxiety is an ass and would you believe it, even on the internet there no escape uGHh

most of you have been really good at this so thank you so much! this is just a reminder!

and secondly after some experimenting and forethought I decided that from here on I'm ship-exclusive to one canon of a character, and for my comfort I'd like this to be reciprocated with my partners. Im still multiship per say, but if Im shipping with like, a Red for example then that's the only interation of that muse that I'll be shipping with. this only changes if theres some inactivity for weeks on end without any communication ( boyo's communication is v' important! esp since I tend to ship with peeps im comfortable talking or dm'ing ; > ).

if any current partners have a problem with this just lemme know on disco if ya have my handle or poke me on IM's!

and remember there's nothing wrong with keeping relationships platonic! we can still have some deep and meaningful character development that way!

the above goes for my muses across and not just Geeta. ill probably be doctoring their rules pages as I hop around blogs. but thanks for sticking with me for so long and I love the work and events thats been going on dash! its been awhile since I had so much fun here <3

[chuuyascumsock]

My Pride, My Poor— Dwindling Pride. || Minors DNI

Summary: I’ve never felt so utterly stressed out writing dominant men. Here’s your cake so you can eat it too, you filthy animals.

Tags: Chuuya Nakahara/Reader, Female reader, Top Chuuya, Bondage, Fingering, Orgasm Denial, Brat Taming, Throat Fucking, Hair Pulling, Rough Sex, Lowkey Hand Kink, Ok— Highkey Hand Kink, I Don’t Hold Back With Obscene Descriptions Now Because I Don’t Care Anymore And All My Friends Know I Have A Pegging Kink Already So Fuck It, I’m Pulling Out The Big Guns.

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you made your way into executive Chuuya Nakahara’s office with a bitter expression on your face and a fussy attitude. Taking it even further— you knew exactly how vexed it made him when you threw a stack of files upon his desk with some less-than-savory comments spewing past your vulgar lips. You wanted to take it out on someone and you didn’t care who fell victim to your sour mood. You hardly even remember what you said, so peeved off that you could barely think.

But it must’ve been directed forwards Chuuya with the twisted look of perplexion and irate on his face.

You don’t even spare him a look as you turn abruptly to leave— only to pause when hearing the gritting tone of Chuuya, “Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you are coming into my office like that?” He seethes, thin brows furrowing into his glabella.

Teeth clack into a clench as you spin on your heel to face him, face scrunched up with frustration. With your mind too jumbled of the earlier events of your teammates detrimental fuck up on the recent mission you just got back from— you keep quiet with a glare. Anthracite eyes glare back at you, a fire beginning to kindle and burn behind his gaze.

If you had been anyone else, surely you wouldn’t have been standing for any longer than three seconds unharmed after disrespecting Chuuya in such a way.

But your relationship with Chuuya was a strange one.

“Have you forgotten your status? Because you have some nerve coming in here, throwing shit on my desk, insulting me under your breath, and then thinking that you can just waltz out like you own the goddamn place.” Chuuya snaps, his left hand gripping his pen that’s now visibly bending from his wrath. His right hand is clenched into a fist by his papers.

Your eyes linger on his gloved hands for a moment before trailing back to his eyes. You also note the way his hat that he normally wears is sitting on a nearby hat-rack. It seems the tension and festering anger were planting small thoughts within your mind. Thoughts that were meant to be kept outside of work when no one else was there to witness a different side of the man in front of you.

You had a new plan than just to piss off anyone who came across your path.

“Whatever.”

All it takes is a clipped— one worded response, and you know his patience that tenses against a string thins to its last thread.

There’s a suffocating pressure that constricts your body before you drop to your knees. You find yourself unable to move as Chuuya stands from his desk chair, legs screeching against the hard floor. “Are we really doing this right now?” He walks around the desk, his shoes clipping the ground brutally as he comes to stand in front of you. “Is this how it’s going to be today?” His chin tilts downwards to look you in the eyes sternly as his arms cross over his chest.

You don’t say anything in return, merely biting the inside of your cheek as you debate whether he was on the same page or genuinely about to kick your shit in. You take the chance and snarkily reply, “Yeah, what are you going to do about it?”

Chuuya swipes his tongue across the bottom row of his teeth in exasperation as he glares in borderline amusement at your attitude and his arms fall to his sides. “Apologize.”

A short laugh slips past your lips before you spit out, “No.”

His glare only hardens and his fingers clench into the palms of his gloves tightly, “Apologize, now.”

“Make me,” You tilt your chin up to stare directly at him with a challenging look.

You note the burning stare that pierces back at you in utter disbelief and silence from your words, his lips parting slightly, “… What did you just say to me?”

Your eyelids lull with mirth, “I said— make me.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before his bray laughter spills throughout his office as if he had been delusionally imagining the whole interaction and your blatant audacity. It wears off quickly into a grinning scowl as you’re manhandled off the floor and thrown to bend over Chuuya’s desk. Various papers, files, and pens fly off and scatter to the ground as you choke out a breathless gasp and attempt to catch your breath. There’s not much room to struggle with the effects of his ability pinning you down in place.

One of Chuuya’s gloved hands splay across your wrists to clasp around them tightly, his leathered fingers biting into your skin. He releases his ability as he leans over you, his front pressing tightly against your back.

“I am going to fucking ruin you,” His voice rasps into a growl.

You hiss through your teeth with each struggled breath before biting into your lower lip as he continues, “I’m sick of your prissy fucking attitude today, if you want to act like a damn brat— I guess I’ll just have to fuck it out of you, huh?” He grits out as his body weighs down further into your backside, giving you the feel of his strained bulge confined in his slacks against your ass.

Your breath hitches before falling into heavier sighs as your heart pounds against your rib cage and your thighs rub together in anticipation.

Chuuya notices and a scoff escapes him, “You can’t be serious.” His lips twitch indecisively as he doesn’t know whether to frown in annoyance or laugh at your absurd reasoning behind your antagonistic actions. “That’s what you wanted? Un-fucking-believable…” He chuckles softly before it gradually grows sinister and then trails off, “You have quite the mouth on you— always rambling those pretty lips away any other time just fine. But you couldn’t use your words to ask me to fuck you? You just had to rile me up— c’mon now, Doll, you’re better than that.”

You breathe in and out through your nose heavily a few times as your voice comes out strained from the pressure in your chest, “You… I… You’re hot when you’re mad.”

Chuuya’s brows arch at your revelation, his eyes scanning over how you try to squirm under his grip. It doesn’t take long for what you said to settle in and an arrogant grin crosses his lips, “Am I now? Huh, I‘ll remember that for next time then… For now…” His grip on your wrists tighten and the other comes down to your stockings, ”Why don’t I remind you of your place that you’ve seemingly forgotten?” His fingers dig into the nylon fabric of your pantyhose under your skirt before the tearing of fabric rips through your ears.

“You dick..! Those were my only pair!” You yelp and wriggle, kicking your feet at his shins.

Chuuya ignores you, continuing to speak over your struggles, “You know, you should be on your knees sucking my dick for forgiveness right about now,” He sighs, “But as usual— you’re spoiled and I can’t help but indulge in your wants for the moment.” A gloved finger moves your underwear to the side before easily sinking into your slick pussy.

A whine escapes your throat, toes stretching your body forward in an attempt to escape the teasing and unfulfilling touch of one finger. His other hand keeps you pinned and from moving anywhere as his finger slides in and out tediously as a means to drag on your frustration and need.

“Maybe it’s my fault for giving you everything you’ve wanted, and even till now,” Chuuya growls the last part to himself as another finger stuffs itself into your sopping cunt. “Y’know— you’re so fuckin’ lucky I can’t help myself when it comes to you, or things would’ve went a lot more differently today.” He huffs, mindlessly dragging and scissoring his leather clad fingers against your soft walls. “I get enough shit from the other bastards who think they have enough balls to even turn their noses up in my direction.”

“M’sorry, Chuu—“ Your voice pitches off into a moan as his digits curl and press into a familiar and sensitive spot.

Chuuya chuckles and goes back to slowly thrusting his fingers in and out, “I don’t care now, I know what you really want— but use your words next time instead of makin’ me think I did somethin’ wrong to deserve your attitude, ‘kay, Doll?”

You nod in return, though it’s subtle with how much you’ve already melted under his touch. Your eyelids flutter and you mumble about how you won’t don’t it again before your body tenses and a short, soft cry slips out from the sudden change in pace of his fingers that piston into you.

“Don’t think that you’re not going to be punished for your little stunt earlier just because you said sorry, though,” He clicks, pulling his fingers all the way out and slapping his wet digits against your clit. “You’re going to have to put that mouth to use for a proper apology.”

Blood rushes to your face and up the nape of your neck as a whimper creeps through, turbulent jolts of excitement flip in your lower stomach at his actions before hearing the subtle noise of his belt clinking. You only grow restless further as he nearly rips the belt from his pants to wrap the leather around your wrists, keeping them bound to your back. Chuuya slips an index finger into the loop of the tied belt, tugging you to stand up before you’re spun around and pushed by the shoulders to fall to your knees.

Your eyes set on his hard cock in front of your face, pre-cum weeping from the tip down his length. He wraps a gloved hand around his girth, stroking himself slowly as a smug grin presents itself on his face. His chin tilts down to look at you, index finger and thumb digging into your cheeks to unhinge your jaw.

“Open wide for me, Doll.”

The taste of his bitter cum has your mouth watering, tip gliding along your tongue until it nudges past your uvula and bullies the back of your throat softly. Your throat convulses around him before you gag, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as you breathe through your nose.

Chuuya groans, his hand moving from your jaw to weave through your hair, tugging the locks to strain against your scalp. He pulls you forward until your nose is buried against the happy trail leading down his lower stomach to his groin. “Fuck, if only you could see yourself choking on my cock right now,” He shakily breathes out as his eyes burn the image into his mind.

You pant heavily through your nose— or at least you try to— finding it hard to breathe with his cock stuffed half-way down your throat.

It isn’t until a few seconds later that he draws his hips back, allowing air to fill your lungs for a moment before bucking into your throat once more as he holds your head in place. Your fingers clench as your wrists jolt against the belt— an involuntary urge to dig your nails into his thighs clawing at you. There’s no build up in speed as he skips right into fucking your throat like a personal fleshlight, every thrust bruising your soft palate. Your whimpers are drowned out by the wet squelching of his girth slipping in and out of the convulsing walls of your throat along with Chuuya’s grunts and half-assed bitten back moans.

“Fuuuck, I could just come down your pretty fuckin’ throat like this,” He gasps before another guttural groan leaves him. Then, he lets out a breathy, rugged laugh as his eyes watch you leeringly, “Christ, Doll, you’re makin’ a mess.” He points out, a mix of his pre-cum and your saliva splatters against your chin messily every time he touches the back of your throat.

It takes a few more thrusts until he forces himself to pull out, leaving you coughing and sputtering violently. You gasp for air greedily through your mouth after he pulls out, tears spilling over from the coughing fit. He lifts your chin with a hand and wipes away his pre-cum mixed with your snot dripping from your nose with a satisfied grin. “God, you’re so good f’me, Doll,” He borderline slurs over his words before pulling you back up to your feet and pushing you back onto his desk.

The hardwood is uncomfortable underneath you as your arms are still tied and pressing into your back, but you’re too light headed and burning with need to notice. Chuuya is quick to shove his way past your thighs and bury himself inside you to the hilt. It takes everything in him not to come with your tight, sopping pussy clenching around him. You swear you can hear him whimper quietly into your chest as he presses his hips flush against yours.

“Please, please fuck me, I need to come s’bad, Chuu,” You plead weakly as tears dry against your cheeks, throat raw and sore from his relentless deep throating just prior moments ago.

He shudders at your broken voice before slowly grinding his hips against you, “Gimme a damn minute,” He growls before panting, “Or I’ll fuckin’ come right now.”

Your head drops back to rest against the desk as you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at his lower back, the heels of your feet spurring him on to move.

His grinding turns into brief and shallow thrusts before he’s snapping his hips into you roughly, his hands finding purchase to grip at the edge of his desk on either side of your head. His forehead presses into your sternum as he desperately drives his cock as far as he can into your welcoming heat, pre-cum and slick frothing at the base of his length with every thrust.

Quickly, he reaches a hand down between your bodies to press and rub against your aching clit. Your lips part as pitchy moans and mewls fall through, the familiar knotting feeling in your lower stomach growing tenfold as your back arches into Chuuya. “M’gonna come, please— I can’t, I’m— fuck,” You ramble incoherently as you rut your hips to meet his thrusts, skin slapping wet aginst one another.

“I know, Doll, I know— Shit, you’re squeezing around my cock so fuckin’ tight,” He grits, eyes clenching shut as his hips begin to stutter and rolls your clit between his thumb and index finger.

A choked whine drags out as your legs tighten around him to bring him as close as possible and your body shudders violently under him as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Chuuya follows after a few more thrusts with a graveled moan, his cock burying itself as deep as possible as his cum smothers your walls in warmth.

He collapses against you, red in the face and covered in sweat that makes his bangs stick to his forehead and cheeks. You’re not much different aside from the occasional shiver from the aftermath. A few moments go by before you heavily sigh and your breathing steadies along with his.

“God damn…” He murmurs against the skin of your sternum before placing a soft peck over your calming heart. “You’re seriously going to be the death of me, Doll,” He picks his head up and leans over, pressing his lips against yours in a lingering kiss.

“Sorry,” You respond apathetically.

His brows scrunch together and his eyes squint, “You don’t sound sorry.”

“Cause m’not really,” You tiredly grin, earning a quiet scoff from him.

“You’re something else.”

[cherryshortycake]

omggg if it’s possible could you do headcanons/if you want, a mini scenario of midoriya getting jealous? i feel he’d ofc be pouty but more..surprisingly assertive and hella passive agressive🤧🤧thank you sm!!

~Deku x Reader~

When it comes to Izuku being jealous I feel like he wouldn't typically say anything about it at first.

If it was one of your friends like Denki trying to be a silly flirt with you like he is with every girl he comes across, But not token serious cause Denki doesn't mean any harm behind his flirt. Izuku doesn't mind it as much as he does with a random student from another class or school during training.

One time, At training some teachers pet from another class in UA, complimented you on your new fighting style, which Izuku was near to hear. And which it wasn't to his liking at all.

As your face lit up at the compliment, And responded to the other boy, simple thank you.

BUT, as you look back to see if Izuku agrees with the boys compliment, your smile dropped, you seen the green haired boy pouting his lips out and looking to the left, refusing the make eye contact and see his cheeks puffed and somewhat red tint showing sighs of annoyance.

Barley hearing him mumbling to his-self, knowing he's showing signs of jealously.

As you were about to talk to him and walk his way.

Mr. Aizawa calls out "Training is over. Pack your things up and head back to dorms now, Retire for the day, you guys did good."

As you look back you see Izuku packing his towel and water bottle up, you put your hand on his shoulder, he looks back barely enough to make eye contact.

"Hey, You did good today Zuku, Make sure to get some rest tonight." you said smiling softly.

"You did excellent today as always, just like that boy said for his-self" he said, with a cheerful smile, until that last remark he said, puffy and pouting his lip looking to the side.

You looked at him, raising one of your eyebrows curiously, until it clicks in your head. HE'S JEALOUS???????? you thought

"Zuku? are you......jealous?" you asked pausing. smirking at him teasingly.

"hUh?? what..? whywouldibejealous, whatttt? imnotiswea-" you interrupted him, as he was shaking his hands in the air fast as a defense. all his words jumbled up.

"Zuku.." you said interrupting him, chucking to yourself

"its okay if you are, I only took it as a compliment to my improvement. but hey?" she said, the boy looking up from pouting.

"...But hey? you know who's compliment make me actually do better and means the world to me??" you said smiling with your hand rubbing behind your neck, with your right hand waving in the air.

"who..?' he said softly and quietly. looking down.

"You, silly" you said giggling

His eyes shot up with light, that made you giggle.

"Now come on let's catch up with the others.." you said walking towards the training door. him following right behind you.

"Really?? you actually mean that??" he said cheerfully, his voice echoing in the empty training room. While jogging up to you by your side.

"yes, my little dork..but next time make sure not to get upset like that next time, okay?" you said ruffling his hair while walking beside him. Giving him soft smile.

Opening his eyes after you ruffling his hair, "yeah understandable."

he said looking somewhat sad, but the smiling again from seeing you smiling back at him, both of you start giggling together at his reaction.

"Hey. maybe when we get back to the dorms, maybe we could cook some dinner for us, before resting for the night? how about cook up some good Katsudon...hmm?" you said nudging his side, knowing its his favorite.

"Yeah I would really love that." he said putting his workout towel on his shoulder.

while smiling, both of you continuing to walk back to the dorms.

Hope this is what you requested for, Request are open <3

[pocket-sized-nightmare]

here's my fic for day 6 of @mcyt-yuri-week! today's prompt is "cozy"

Okay, so trying to drain an ocean monument alone might not have been the best idea.

Gem was doing so well, too. She’d made so much progress on the project over just a few hours. She’s no stranger to mob fights — she can easily take down a horde of zombies (once she knows they’re behind her) or beat her friends at sparring practice any day. Ocean monsters can’t be that different, right? She should be perfectly capable of building a guardian farm. She should be, but unfortunately, it turns out that she isn’t.

After three rounds of mining fatigue and void knows how many guardian beams, Gem resigned herself to the fact that she was absolutely going to die. Losing all her tools and armor would be awful, but there was no way out of it — she hadn’t packed enough water breathing potions. Everything would’ve gone wrong, but just in the nick of time, Pearl swooped down and lifted her out of the water.

So instead of trudging back from her house to salvage a few surviving items, Gem is in Pearl’s base, curled up on the couch while Pearl fusses over her.

“Now, why would you go and do a thing like that, Gem?” Pearl teases. “That’s not good for you!”

“Well, I didn’t mean to,” Gem tries to say, but it comes out as a jumbled mess of words.

“That’s alright.” Pearl hands her a healing potion. “I’m gonna get you fixed up. Can I touch your armor?”

Most people wouldn’t even ask, Gem thinks. They’d just try to take it off for me. The thought sparks something like electricity in her mind — Pearl isn’t like anyone she’s ever met before. “Mhm.”

“Alright. I’m gonna take it off so we can get you into some dry clothes.” Pearl gently lifts Gem’s helmet off and undoes the latches on the back of her chestplate. Gem slips off her leggings. Pearl kneels down and takes Gem’s right boot off, tugs at the left one, then realizes. “Oh, void, your ankle’s twisted really badly. It’s all swollen. Do you have mending on these?”

“Nope. Unfortunately.” Gem sighs and flops back onto the couch.

“Well, it’s fortunate for you right now,” Pearl chuckles. “I’m sorry, but I think I’m gonna have to break this.”

“Tryin’ to leave me defenseless, huh?” Gem murmurs. “I see your tricks.”

“Oh, shush.” Pearl takes out her pickaxe and gently taps at the diamond boot on Gem’s foot. “Does that hurt?”

Gem winces as a tap comes a bit too close to her ankle. “Little bit.”

“Sorry. It should only be a minute.” Pearl’s attempts somehow become even gentler.

Gem closes her eyes. “Take your time…”

Cracks spread across the length of the boot. With a final tap, it shatters apart. “There. Got it. You alright, Gem?”

“Mhm,” Gem murmurs. “’S fine.”

Aw, she’s sleepy, Pearl thinks before she can stop herself. Gem looks so cozy there on the couch, and Pearl suddenly wants nothing more than to patch her up and keep her safe. “Do you wanna get up, or should I just get splash potions?”

“Mmm.”

“Noted.” Pearl laughs as she wanders off to grab some splash potions out of a chest.

By the time Pearl comes back with the potions, Gem is curled up in a cozy ball on the couch, already asleep. Pearl’s heart swells. She splashes the two potions onto Gem, making certain not to be too forceful or make too much noise, and watches as the cuts and bruises on Gem’s skin slowly fade. Her ankle is still a bit swollen, so Pearl puts a pillow underneath it and adds an ice pack. Gem looks so peaceful and safe that Pearl can’t help but feel her heart melt every time she looks at her friend. Without even thinking about it, she goes to another chest and takes out a blanket. She might as well make sure Gem is cozy while she heals. It’s the logical thing to do. (No other reason.)

Pearl drapes the quilt over Gem’s sleeping form. Its soft blue blocks and cloud patches fit Gem’s style just as well as hers. The thought is strangely heartwarming, and Pearl feels a strange fluttering in her chest that she isn’t used to. Gem is silly and badass and kind and so pretty Pearl can barely stand it stylish, and Pearl doesn’t quite know what to make of her. All she knows is that she’s glad she took a detour past the ocean when she did.

Gem makes a peaceful humming sound. Pearl leans down and kisses her on the forehead. “Sleep well, Gem.”

“G’night, Pearl,” Gem murmurs with a smile.

Pearl jumps back, blushing beet-red. Oh, void, oh, void, she was awake, that’s so embarrassing, that shouldn’t be embarrassing, why am I embarrassed?

Gem giggles. “Thank you for saving me.”

“You’re welcome,” Pearl murmurs back.

Even when Gem is fast asleep and snoring softly, the blush in Pearl’s cheeks doesn’t fade.

[tc-doherty]

Find the Word

Tagged by @oh-no-another-idea thank you!

Solid - The Deadlands

So far he had always been a relatively placid horse, but this was too much. He screamed and reared, and took off back across the desert like an arrow from a bow.

Genevieve screamed as well as she lost her seat and tumbled to the hard ground, with nothing at all to protect her from the creature.

It was probably some kind of lizard, Margherita would've known what it was and how to deal with it. But all Genevieve saw was too many legs with too many claws, and a mouth with too many teeth. Between the fleeing horse and the girl flailing on the ground, the choice was obvious.

Genevieve had just managed to regain her feet when it came after her.

It missed the first time as Genevieve scrambled backwards, barely managing to keep her feet.

By the second time, she had gathered the tattered remains of her courage around her and as it came hurtling through the air she kicked out as hard as she could.

Solid contact was made and it was flung rapidly away from her.

She did not wait to watch and see if it regained its footing, she turned to where the forest loomed on the horizon and ran.

Rush - Magic Black as Knight

"That wasn't my intention, really." Iskandar scrambled to his feet. "But I accept. Only if, um, only if I win…you, um, have to agree to have dinner with me."

The last few words came out in a jumbled rush, and Clovis wasn't sure that he heard correctly. "What?"

The gryphon let out a fairly decent approximation of a human whistle and sat there with its beak gaped, clearly amused. Iskandar for his part had gone from lightly flushed to bright red. Even so, he repeated what he had said.

"If I win, you have to have dinner with me." Iskandar scratched the back of his head. "I wasn't trying to make you mad, I just wanted to get your attention. I don't really know how to do this, but, um, I think you're really pretty."

It was Clovis's turn to blush, and he rapidly tried to think of a response. That's what this was about? Of all the possible explanations he could've come up with, this would never have crossed his mind. Objectively Clovis knew that he was aesthetically pleasing, but no one had ever…well, something like this had never come up.

Gold - Second Chances

Izare had been thinking, maybe this was his time to escape. Maybe in this transfer he could find time to get loose. Every thought in his head fled the moment the door opened.

Because it was Mahesha, but not Mahesha as Izare had ever seen him. Mahesha in sleek crimson silk, Mahesha bedecked in gold jewelry, Mahesha with his hair loose, tumbling over his shoulders.

It wasn’t the right time, there was so much else to think about, but all Izare could think was how beautiful he was.

Mahesha gave absolutely no indication that he recognized Izare at all. He said some brief sentence in Kovarian then yanked on Izare’s chain, dragging him into the room. The door closed, and the guards walked off, laughing.

And just like that, Izare found himself standing in the middle of a very lavish sitting room, staring at Mahesha.

 Dirt - The Fairy

Irina tripped again over something she couldn’t see, and went sprawling into the dirt. The lantern fell out of her hand and rolled away to stop with a low clunk against the base of a tree just out of reach. It seemed just what the forest was waiting for. Something seemed to turn, like a gryphon ready to pounce.

A thorny branch brushed against her side. Irina, never known for her patience, finally had enough. “Stop that!” She smacked the branch the same way she would smack the side of a misbehaving doe, and the branch shrank away.

Always her frustration came with an edge of tears. She stood up and picked up her lantern, wiping away the offending tears as she did so.

“No more!” She emphasized her words by stomping her foot. “Next tree or bush or vine as what touches me gets to learn what the inside of this here lantern is like!”

The forest seemed to grumble, but the bushes shrank back into themselves, and the black-barked trees settled back on creaking roots like dogs ordered to sit.

She didn’t see it, but she felt it, and that was enough.

Watch - Miracles

“I…don’t have any intention of being involved with him! Why does everyone think that?” Larkin sighed. “He’s just helping lead us to the temple of miracles that’s all.”

The Night Queen glared at him. “I don’t mean romantically involved; I know that he wouldn’t allow that to happen. But Arwyn is very sensitive and he’s been hurt often enough already. If you have to travel together, the least you can do is not let him get too dependent on you. And watch what you say to him.”

For a minute, he didn’t know what to say. It’s not as if Arwyn was a child. Even if he was as young as he looked, he would still be almost an adult, and he was certainly older than he appeared. There was no reason for the Night Queen to be prying into his life so intensely. Except, perhaps, that she was a very overprotective mother.

“All I want to do is get to the temple of miracles and back so I can stop Kishar’s stupid curse from starting. I’m not here to look for partners or even friends. I’ve had enough of people for a long time coming.”

That seemed to satisfy her, because she nodded. “As long as that’s the case, then you and I should not have any problems.”

I’m tagging @akiwitch @ladyazulina @autumnimagining and @moondust-bard and your words are desired, quiet, plead, absent, and embrace.

Also tagging @muddshadow and @bloodlessheirbyjacques for Miracles related reasons haha

[red-dyed-sarumane]

kyuuyakus so good not only bc its like the only song heavy enough i can tolerate at loud volumes that can Almost drown out my coworker who never shuts up but ALSO for the points ive said 74times & will continue to,

aru sekai shoushitsu set us up for something super sci-fi, which. yes. the series very much is. but it was so technical and almost coldly indifferent. and then we're given the whole "old testament" in the title & the whole intro reading that isnt far from dantes inferno type content as my good friend emimin pointed out. we've got this new aspect added in and at the same time the lyrics let you know this character's still dealing with the complex technical stuff, from the terms down to the second kanji in ashita being incomplete as though because of a program error or interruption or some other similar reason.

and it feels even more different because theres just so much emotion in this one compared to shoushitsu. all the "bye-bye"s written in ways that express deep pain, the fact that the "see you tomorrow"s are cut off in the way they are the first time, and so drawn out the second time. the genre's not the spacey, distant trance type that shoushitsu is; its heavy, its intense, its got as much to it musically as there are details in the story. it's not just to sound cool, it's getting her state of mind across just as much as the spoken words. the world's being destroyed physically & metaphorically, everyone's suffered this over and over, they've parted ways so many times and its just never something they can get used to, especially not if they want to keep trying to end this whole loop, she's stressed past imagination trying to keep everything in check when its just not possible, & the intensity of the music just emphasizes all of that. there's less intense parts too, sort of like a forced focus on what she's doing that all too quickly builds to a panic. or the in the second part where everything gets so dire, the bell's tolling and she's running out of time, the piano over top of it giving such an uneasy feeling, and then right back to that heavy panic. theres so much emotional charge in it you know the long notes aren't just magu having fun with it; you just know they're meant as screams. i dont even think i can say screams for help, i think she knows shes past the point of help or at least that she's supposed to be everyone else's source of help that it's just stressed lamentation. she's doing everything she possibly can and its not working so all thats left is to cry out about it.

and then u have the rute furute wo a motif in here that's added in under the "fractal wa/kurikaeshita" parts that really hits harder now with kannagi for extra context. knowing that this is in the past & can't be changed and everyone else is using this as a point of reference. then u of course have the nami no ne wo motif, & the longest & clearest instance of it aside from maybe oumen mokushiroku so u know she's herself & gets to live, gets to keep doing this & watching other people die. (although i have absolutely no frame of reference for how long she lives given this is a past event & she doesn't seem to be present in the more current time songs. we dont really have that context yet) & then we're back to the rute motif on top of what still sounds like a jumble of nothing. but i also thought the rute line was nothing and here its a big deal so i cant wait to realize what this other jumble is, considering its also under the last ima kizanda parts.

theres just so so much to it, so many little intricacies that build such a full picture from whats otherwise one of the more simple series songs & i cant love it more.

[leslie-lyman]

Stranger At My Gate - Chapter 10 (Pero Tovar x modern!OFC)

A time-traveling Pero. A modern woman trying her best. A kitchen full of possibility. A helping of Midwestern kindness. A dash of magic. And a whole lot of Christmas spirit.

pairing: Pero Tovar x modern!OFC

rating: E 🚨 [18+ ONLY, minors DNI]

warnings: at the risk of spoiling things, SMUT; unprotected PIV; oral (f receiving); blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Pero having a pain kink; Pero having a lil bit of a breeding kink; ungodly amounts of fluff; one (1) instance of your author taking liberties with language history

word count: 7.3k

a/n: Here we are, folks. This is it. I’ll have more to say at the end of this chapter, and I’d strongly advise you to read all the way to the end. 😉 Also a reminder that going forward, I will only be tagging folks in my writing who have signed up via my official taglist form.

Extra major helpings of thanks and forehead kisses to @whataperfectwasteoftime for looking this over for me and for tolerating me tearing my hair out in her DMs over this chapter. ❤️❤️❤️

Previous chapter.

Masterlist.

———

Ten.

Panic seizes Tessa’s chest, robbing her of breath. A chorus of thoughts rise loud in her head, jumbled and half-formed -

He can’t have gone back

I’m late, I’m too late

So stupid, should have told him before I left

Too late too late too late

There’s no way to tell how old the footprints marking Pero’s path towards the woods might be, but after only a moment of paralysis, Tessa’s off like a shot.

He could have left hours ago, he could already be back in his own time and there would be nothing more that Tessa could do.

But she has to know for sure.

There’s no conscious moment of deciding - one second she isn’t running as fast as she can in the direction of the trees and the next second she is, never mind that it’s well below freezing with the snow coming down with an increasing vengeance. Never mind that she’s still dressed for air travel, in nothing more than jeans and a sweatshirt and cute little ankle boots that are definitely not meant to go trudging through more than half a foot of snow. Her coat’s still in the back seat of her car but she can’t stand to make even the smallest detour for it. Pero may be long gone, but if he isn’t, if there’s a chance she could still stop him and ask him to stay, who knows how long she has. Ten seconds to grab her coat could be the difference.

Pero’s footsteps get more difficult to follow once she hits the tree line, but her Gift is not called intuition for nothing. She can feel some sort of instinctual pull towards the Gate, or maybe it’s towards Pero, aided by the faint ghosts of memories of her childhood spent playing in these woods. She tries to yell Pero’s name, but the freezing air burns in her throat as she attempts to draw enough breath to keep moving as fast as she can.

An eternity somehow fits into the handful of minutes it takes her to make it to the small, perfectly round clearing where the two trees that make up the Gate stand. She’s never been this close to the Gate before, and certainly not when it’s been open. Apart from the slightly unnatural placement of the trees, there’s nothing that gives it away on sight. But it throbs with power, emitting a warped vibration Tessa cannot truly hear but rather feels deep in her bones. Something about it calls to her, as though its magic recognizes the kindred spirit of her Gift. But whatever being or force created the Gate was many times more powerful and ancient than the source of her Gift, and if she looks directly at it for more than a few seconds a vague sense of vertigo starts to make itself known at the edges of her vision.

What small amount of light was left in the day is almost completely gone, the snow on the ground doing little to reflect it back as fat flakes continue to fall. Tessa can’t tell if Pero’s footprints continue across the circle to the Gate. She takes two deep breaths, then opens her mouth to let out the scream she’s felt building since she walked in her front door to find her house cold and empty -

“I’m here, Tessa.”

Her head whips around at the sound of his voice so quickly she hears her neck crack. She squints through the snow and darkness and sure enough, sitting on a fallen log just outside the edge of the clearing, is Pero. Tessa has to make a hasty grab for the nearest tree to keep from collapsing in relief.

“Pero,” she croaks, her voice nothing more than a cracked whisper.

He stands and comes closer. He’s dressed in his original clothes, the hilts of his swords visible over his right shoulder. The only modern item on him is the thick wool coat he’s been using the past few weeks.

Even once he’s close enough to see his features his face is unreadable. Tessa likes to think she’s gotten fairly good at interpreting Pero’s expressions, having learned just how much this man can say without any words at all, but apart from the tightness at the corners of his mouth, it’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep his face as neutral as possible.

Seconds tick by without either of them saying anything. It’s like Tessa’s emotions are all laid out on a roulette wheel - panic, joy, despair, relief, exhaustion - that’s spinning too fast to figure out what she’s actually feeling at this moment. Then the little white ball falls from the track and sticks in the groove of one emotion in particular.

Anger.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?”

They’re both taken aback by how harshly the words leave her mouth. Pero takes a breath to respond, but Tessa doesn’t let him.

“I get home - knowing full well that today is the day, that the Gate is open - and you’re just gone? You were just - you were just going to leave me? After all of that, after everything, that’s how this ends?”

Tears unexpectedly clog her voice, making her rapidly lose all of her bite.

Pero shifts, his body restless, leaning first towards her, then away again, like he wants to close the distance between them but isn’t sure she’d welcome it.

She asks him the question again, voice now soft and full of sadness.

“What are you doing here, Pero?”

He looks down and away from her, and she can see his lips move but can’t make out what he says.

“What?”

“I thought it would be easier,” he snarls, meeting her eye again with an expression that is full of pain. “I thought it would be easier like this. To leave with a clean break, having made no promises to each other. To give you back your life, so that you could go and live it the way you deserve, with someone else who is…”

He trails off, and Tessa is genuinely bewildered.

“Who is…what, Pero?”

“Who is not me.” He shakes his head, holding up his hands when she tries to respond, the words feeling torn from his chest. “Tessa, I am not a good man. The things I have done in my life…I cannot be who you need me to be.”

“You are not the arbiter of my needs and who can fulfill them, Pero.”

“Tessa - ”

“No.” Tessa takes a step forward, balling her hands into fists. “No, you listen to me. If you want to go back - ” The possibility and all its ugly implications push to the forefront of her mind, all her fears and inadequacies rearing their awful heads and threatening to choke her. “If you want to go back to your own time, then I - I’ll respect that. But don’t you dare leave because you think that’s somehow doing right by me. And don’t you dare just walk away without a word, Pero. I am sick, god, I am so sick of the people I love leaving me without so much as a chance to say goodbye.”

Everything quiets. The wind, the trees, the odd thrum of the Gate, it all seems to pause, a shocked inhale and a holding of breath.

Pero’s lips part in surprise. Twin crescent moons form between his eyes as his brows furrow. His question is full of disbelief.

“What did you just say?”

This wasn’t how Tessa had planned on telling him, though to be fair, she hadn’t really had a plan for telling him at all.

“I said,” she has to swallow, and wills herself to look at Pero when she repeats it, no matter her trepidation at his reaction, “the people I love.”

The world around them stays hushed, unwilling to interrupt.

“I should have said something weeks ago. I should never have let things go this long without telling you how I feel and what I want. I’m so sorry for any role my silence played in making you doubt yourself.”

She moves a bit to her left as she talks, almost unthinkingly, and doesn’t have to look behind her to know that she’s managed to put herself between Pero and the Gate. Not that she has much hope of stopping him if he decides to muscle past her; he’s nearly twice her size, and she’s intimately acquainted enough with his strength to know she could never physically block him from going through the Gate if he really wanted to. But everything in her is screaming at her to do what she can to prevent him from quite literally walking out of her life forever, to feel like she has some semblance of control over the situation for the first time all day.

It’s nearly funny; for weeks Tessa has put off this conversation, and just yesterday she was struggling to rehearse what to say, but now the words come to her as naturally as breathing.

“This is a conversation you and I should have had long before now. I’m sorry I’ve been such a coward about it, but that is my own failing, not a reflection of my feelings or your worth. Which is ridiculous, when I think about it, because the truth is so simple that I’m ashamed I ever refused a single chance to tell you. The truth is that I love you, Pero Tovar, and I want you to stay.”

She’s proud that her voice doesn’t shake, for all her heart is in her throat. Pero’s face remains inscrutable. A muscle in his jaw twitches, his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, but he doesn’t say anything. He looks like he has no idea what to say.

But that’s fine, because now that she’s started speaking Tessa can’t seem to stop.

“Look, I won’t pretend that this world, that this time, is all sunshine compared to yours, that there aren’t still plenty of big, awful problems out there. War. Climate change. Inequality. Mitch McConnell. And I know that - that there’s so much that’s still new and unfamiliar to you, and that might be scary or intimidating, but I swear to you Pero, you would never have to face any of it alone.”

Please let that be enough. Please let me be enough.

Pero increasingly looks like he’s been hit over the head.

“So…what do you say?”

He doesn’t say anything, but she gets her answer when he suddenly closes the distance between them and crashes his lips to hers.

———

All his life, Pero has been chasing something. Each moment of his life has been spent in pursuit of the next one - the next job, the next meal, the next battle. All of it about first and foremost surviving, and then all of it leading to some sort of end, some hazy idea he’d had of an easier life, flush with coin, maybe a warm bed, a steady supply of meat and bread and ale.

He remembers what he had once said to William at the Great Wall:

After all the blood and cold and pain, with this black powder in our saddlebags, we win.

How small and silly that dream seems now compared to what is right in front of him.

I love you, Pero Tovar, and I want you to stay.

His knee-jerk reaction is disbelief, but he has a hard time hanging onto that feeling when he knows Tessa to be neither a liar nor a fool. The simplest explanation, after all, is usually the right one. And that means she’s telling the truth. All he has to do is accept it.

Moira had asked him what he would do if Tessa asked him to stay. He’d never given her a definitive answer because he hadn’t had one.

But he does now.

He crushes Tessa to him and kisses her with all the ferocity he possesses, a hiccuped sob of relief escaping her lips before he swallows it up. Her hands grab fistfuls of his jacket in an iron grip and she presses herself against him as though she couldn’t bear to have a single inch of space between them.

“Do you know how long I’ve been out here,” he gasps once they break for air, “just sitting and staring at those damn trees?”

“What?” She frowns. “Why were you - ”

“I thought that for once in my life I was going to do the right thing, instead of the selfish thing. I thought I could go back to my old life and hang onto the memory of you and have that be enough. Then I got here and saw the Gate and have been sitting on that log it feels like half the damn day trying to work up the will to walk through. But I could not.”

“Why?” It’s barely a whisper. Tessa knows, or she thinks she does, she’s nearly sure, she’s almost certain, but she has to hear him say it.

He leans down to kiss her once more, just a soft, chaste press of lips, but then he cups her face in his broad palms and the way he looks at her confirms everything even before he speaks.

“Because I knew if you asked me to stay I could not deny you. Because I do not truly want to go. And because, Tessa Walsh, I love you too.”

They’re alone in the woods. There is no one to overhear them. And yet Pero still murmurs the words, quiet but clear, like they are a gift meant for her ears alone.

The joy that spreads across her face is blinding. He drops his forehead against hers.

“I still meant what I said earlier, Tessa. I am not sure that I share your confidence in my worthiness. I don’t know what kind of life I can offer you. If I were to become a burden - ”

“You would never.” Her response is instant and certain. “Pero, the things happening in my life, my work, I don’t want to stop doing them. I just don’t want to do them alone. I want you there. You’ve seen so little of this world so far. Come see the rest of it with me.”

She releases her death grip on his coat to drape her arms around his neck.

“I have news for you,” she whispers in his ear like a secret. “I don’t know what the future looks like. I don’t know all that a life here, together, might hold for us. But what I do know is that I want more than anything to find out. Don’t you?”

His arms tighten their hold, then she feels him nod, the scruff of his cheek rough against her own.

“I fear that is still far more than a man like me deserves,” he says, one last voicing of his doubts. But there’s no strength behind it, and Tessa knows it.

“No, Pero, it isn’t. And I will spend every day for as long as you’ll give me convincing you of it.”

She pulls back just enough to be able to look at him. Snow clings to his hair, the moisture further encouraging it’s natural curl.

“We will need to get better at this whole communicating-our-feelings thing though, you and I,” she says with a small laugh.

A smile tugs at the corners of Pero’s mouth.

“We can practice.”

Any warmth generated by Tessa’s race to the clearing has long since dissipated, and as the accompanying adrenaline rush leaves her system the cold wraps its icy, gleeful fingers around her like prey caught in a net. There’s snow in her boots, her socks soaked through and her feet rapidly going numb. She burrows even closer to Pero, seeking his warmth, the combination of cold and relief making her start to shiver. The tremors start deep in her chest and rapidly spread until they’re the kind of full-body chills that usually come with the flu.

“Angel?” Pero prompts her, concerned, noticing for the first time how woefully underdressed she is for the weather.

“Cold,” she mumbles, face shoved against his jacket. “S-saw you were gone and I panicked and d-didn’t stop to grab m-my coat.”

Guilt floods him.

“I am so sorry, mi amor. I was trying to spare you distress, not cause it.”

Tessa peeks up at him.

“Say it again?”

“I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head, the look in her eyes one of wonder and hope.

“No, I meant the part where you called me your love.”

Slowly, deliberately, he lowers his mouth to hers, dropping his voice low to murmur it against her lips.

“Mi amor.”

He hears her breath hitch, a shiver of an entirely different kind running down her spine. She rises up on her toes to kiss him again, and for a moment Pero is consumed with how much he never, ever wants to go so much as a day without kissing her ever again before being struck dumb by the realization that he doesn’t have to.

But the fact that Tessa is still shaking in his arms as snow continues to quietly fall around them makes him pull away. He may still have so much to learn about this world, but this right here is a problem he already knows how to solve.

He ducks down and in one fluid motion scoops Tessa up, chuckling at the way she squeaks and clings to his neck. He gives the shell of her ear a soft nip and an even softer kiss. He takes one last look at the pair of trees across the clearing, his expression solidifying into something determined, decided, defiant, then turns his back on the Gate.

“C’mon, angel mine, let’s go home.”

———

Pero wastes no time, carrying Tessa straight into her bathroom the moment he walks through the door. He perches her on the edge of the toilet and turns her shower on before starting to strip her of her wet clothes. When she’s fully bare and the glass panels of her shower are foggy with steam, he stands and makes to move away, but she reaches out and grips a handful of his shirt, as if suddenly afraid he’s going to leave.

He brushes his fingers across her cheek in a gesture of infinite tenderness.

“Go get under the water, Tessa. I’ll be just a moment behind you.”

Her little burst of anxiety fades and she steps into the shower, hissing as the hot water stings her freezing cold skin.

Pero strips and joins her, folding her once again into his arms and shielding her from most of the spray. He isn’t sure how long they stand there like that, just holding each other, hands tracing gentle patterns down spines, soaking in the comforting feeling of ribs expanding and chests rising and falling with every breath.

Eventually he reaches for the bottle of body wash perched on the shelf. Tessa stirs at the movement with a little noise of protest, blinking up at him like she’s come out of a trance.

“Shh, angel, it’s alright,” he hushes her. “Let me do something for you.”

He squeezes a generous amount of the soap into his palms and rubs them together to lather it up. Then he lifts Tessa’s left hand up to his right shoulder and starts to run his hands up and down her arm, spreading the suds, getting her clean.

They haven’t done this yet - showered together. In the past three weeks Pero and Tessa have had each other in nearly every corner of the house, on every surface, but this is something else entirely. Pero repeats his actions along her other arm, then across her shoulders, her collarbones, her neck. He pauses only briefly at her breasts, trailing his fingers around the edges of the soft mounds, flicking his thumbs just once over her nipples before he moves on.

When he reaches her belly button he sinks to his knees. Tessa lets her fingers play with the ends of his curls from where her hands still rest on his shoulders.

“I am sorry, you know,” he says, so quietly she almost doesn’t hear him over the water. “I do not ever wish to hurt you. This is new, for me. Giving a damn.” He looks up at her with a little smile, both self-deprecating and vulnerable.

Pero rubs the soap down each leg, lifting each of her feet in turn, leaving no inch of her unexplored, and there’s something so worshipful, so intimate in how he handles her.

“You’re doing just fine so far,” she tells him, cupping his jaw and nudging him to stand. She moves to return the favor, filling her palms with the sweet-smelling body wash. When she starts to move her hands over his chest, she can feel him tense, his breath going shallow. He carries so many scars, both physical and not. He is so sure of the kind of man he is, and he’s so wrong, Tessa can barely stand it.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you, Pero?”

She paints soapy lines down one of his arms, then the other.

“I see a man who had his whole world turned upside down and didn’t even flinch. I see a man who could have run from the start, who could have taken everything of value that very first day and bolted, but who instead trusted a stranger to help him. A man who treats my family with kindness and respect, who sits on the floor with my nephews and plays Legos.”

Tessa makes her way down his torso, letting the water wash away the soap before pressing her lips to every mark that dots his skin in between words.

“I see a man who cares for me, who protects me, who supports me. Who was willing to sacrifice his own desires because he thought he was doing the right thing for me.”

She kneels down to turn her attention to his legs, running her hands over his hips, his glutes, his thighs.

“I want this man.” She nips at the skin just under his hip bone and sees his stomach clench in response.

“I need this man.” How long has it been, she wonders, since someone touched him like this, gently, reverently? Has anyone ever cared for him like this?

“I love this man,” she says, finally leaning in with the intention of nuzzling his cock, half-hard at the sight of her kneeling at his feet, but Pero doesn’t let her. He pulls her up with a hand around the nape of her neck before slotting his lips over her with a growl. He kisses her like he has to, like he needs it the way he needs air, pouring love into her mouth with every swipe of his tongue and every hint of his teeth along her bottom lip.

The now-full, impressive length of him presses against her stomach and Tessa tries to hitch a knee up around his hip to pull him closer.

“Pero, please - ”

He reaches around her to shut the water off.

“Not here,” he rumbles, chest heaving. “Not here - in y- in our bed.”

He wraps her in her fluffiest towel so she doesn’t freeze all over again, then insists on carrying her the eight feet to the bed.

She’s warm and wet from the shower, and the sound she makes when he slides inside her is nearly enough to finish him off right then. He holds himself over her, pressing as much of his weight as he dares down on her, reveling in the feeling of her beneath him, soft and willing and his.

“Gorgeous girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to ghost his lips over her cheek.

“Courageous girl.” A kiss to her temple.

“Brilliant girl.” A kiss under her jaw.

“Pero,” she breathes, shifting her hips as much as she’s able, a silent plea for him to start moving. He chuckles.

“Impatient girl.” A pass of his tongue over her pulse beneath her ear.

“Stubborn girl.” He moves, not a full thrust, but a slow grind of his hips as deep as he can that pulls a whine from Tessa’s throat.

“Mine,” he rasps, the word full of awe, like he’s really beginning to believe it.

“Yours,” Tessa agrees without hesitation. “Yours, Pero.”

He starts slowly, a languid, lazy pace he matches with deep kisses and long strokes of his tongue against hers. He savors it in a way he hasn’t before, the slow drag of his cock inside her almost more intense than if he’d set a much more frantic tempo. Perhaps it’s because there’s no hiding anything from each other anymore, the way he knows each sound and sensation is layered with trust and love and adoration, and as he thinks about how he has this, he has her, and that he may very well not ever have to give this up, he realizes he’s going to come just like this.

Not without Tessa, though.

He worms a hand between them to pet at her clit and soon enough she starts to tighten around him, her breathy little cries of oh, yes, Pero getting louder and louder.

“That’s it, mi amor,” he groans, “come on my cock and show me you’re mine, there you go, that’s it - ”

Her body curls upwards into him and she muffles her scream into his shoulder as he follows her quickly over the edge.

When they’ve both come down from it he eases his cock from her body, carefully pushing himself up off the bed and down to the floor.

Tessa makes a questioning noise, still trying to catch her breath. He runs a soothing hand along her thigh before coaxing her legs apart to better admire the view of his spend starting to drip from the folds of her cunt, a possessiveness he’s been keeping at bay until now unfurling inside him like a newly awoken tiger.

“Pero, please,” she begs, squirming under his gaze. “Touch me, I want to feel you again - ”

“Patience, angel,” he murmurs, “we have time now, after all.” He drags his nose up the seam of her inner thigh before placing the lightest of kisses against her clit.

“And I intend to take it.”

———

It’s after midnight when Tessa finally falls asleep against him, sated and exhausted. She lies with her head pillowed on his chest, her body half on top of his. Pero can feel sleep tugging at him too, but he fights it in favor of another minute of admiring the way she looks in the dim moonlight, her expression perfectly happy and content even as she rests.

Let’s go home, he’d said earlier. And at the time, he’d meant this house.

But last night when he’d been here alone it had been cold and lifeless and empty, and Pero knows that home is not this place. It is not this house, or this town, or even this time.

It’s her.

———

They do a fair amount of talking over the next few days, sketching out their wants and hopes and ideas for the future.

“You should talk to Amie after they get back from visiting Thom’s parents,” Tessa had suggested the morning after the solstice. “Finding permanent, year-round help at the farm is difficult, especially someone she doesn’t need to worry about keeping her Gift a secret from. She’s been talking about expanding the farm to include flowers and other plants, but she needs another reliable set of hands to help manage it, if you’re interested.”

Pero admits he finds the notion intriguing. A chance to work out in the open air, using his hands and his strength to build and grow things, rather than destroy them. An opportunity to find a new kind of purpose, a new kind of way to provide for himself and those he loves.

He hasn’t let go of all his self-doubts, a process he knows will take longer than a handful of days, but just being open with Tessa about how he feels and talking through the possibilities their future could look like together goes a long way towards banishing them. Every day he finds himself believing in Tessa’s unwavering conviction that he is a good man, that he deserves to be here, to be happy, to be loved, a little more. He cannot change the things he’s done in the past, but he also doesn’t have to be that man anymore.

For the first time in his life Pero’s future is one full of hope, and he decides to embrace it with everything he is.

———

Three days after the solstice, on Christmas Eve, the weather turns colder than it’s been all season, bitterly so, the wind howling through the trees and rattling the windows. Tessa and Pero finish putting away the leftovers from their dinner (a winter squash and spinach pasta bake Tessa had chosen in part because it’s lengthy baking time is exactly the same as the runtime of The Muppet Christmas Carol) when Tessa turns to him with a wicked glint in her eye.

She makes Pero move the coffee table out of the way while she tracks down every sheet and blanket and pillow she possesses and arranges them in front of the fireplace. When she beckons him to join her in the cozy little nest he goes eagerly, pulling her close so that they’re lying on their sides facing each other. Tessa tucks her head under his chin and Pero marvels at how perfectly she fits against him, snuggled into the protective circle of his arms.

They stay like that for a little while, the only sounds the wind outside and the crackle of the fire nearby. Pero strokes a hand through Tessa’s hair, admiring how the light from the flames brings out the warm golden tones in each strand.

She shifts against him, slowly sliding a leg up over his hip. They’ve barely gotten out of bed since the solstice, but one lazy grind of Tessa’s hips against the outline of his cock has him ravenous for her as if he hadn’t had her in weeks.

“Again, angel?” He hums, teasing her. But her answer is sincere and full of need.

“Always.”

He tilts her chin up to kiss her and it only takes a moment for it to go from sweet to hungry, each of them tugging at the other’s clothes until they’re both bare.

Pero kisses his way down her body, taking his time to pay attention to her neck, her breasts, her tummy, leaving behind little bruises and bites as he does so, lovingly marking her up so that there is no question who she belongs to.

He’s saying something, barely-there words breathed into her skin between each kiss and suck and bite, the same phrase over and over and over again, and Tessa’s heart flips over when she realizes that she recognizes it, a piece of language that has survived a thousand years:

Te amo. Te amo. Te amo.

He finally makes it to her core, spreading her thighs apart. He glances up at her to make sure she’s watching when he ducks down to lap up the slick already leaking from her folds.

Pero is many things, including a remarkably fast learner. Over the past three weeks he’s taken to eating Tessa out like a duck to water, eagerly exploring and cataloging all the ways he can make her fall apart. He circles her clit with his tongue as he works two fingers inside her, rapidly building her up to her first climax of the evening.

There’s so many sensations - the delicious stroke of Pero’s tongue, the stretch of his fingers, the soft blanket below her, the heat of the fire - but all of them are soaked in the overwhelming joy she feels that Pero is here, and he’s hers, and he loves her and oh god she loves him too and she isn’t sure if it makes her want to laugh or cry or grin or scream his name -

She watches as he closes his eyes in bliss at her taste, his hips rutting against the blankets to try and find relief. His fingers are so much thicker than her own and he curls them forward, pushing her closer and closer to her peak. He stretches his free hand up her belly towards her breasts; she grabs for it and he instantly twists his wrist to intertwine their fingers.

“Just like that, Pero,” she gasps, though she knows she doesn’t have to tell him. “I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me fucking come - ”

Another flick of his tongue and Tessa’s gone, grinding her cunt against his mouth and sobbing his name.

He slides his fingers from her and immediately raises them to his mouth to lick them clean, but when he crawls back up her body Tessa surprises him, hooking an ankle around the back of his knee and urging him onto his back.

“Going to ride me, mi amor?” He asks, and she nods, reaching behind her to grasp the thick length of his cock. She’s so wet she sinks down on him in one smooth motion, barely stopping to let her body adjust before starting to circle her hips.

It may be below zero outside, but Tessa’s body soon glistens with sweat, the firelight making her seem to glow. She’s so beautiful above him that Pero can hardly do more than watch, enthralled. He reaches up to fill his hands with her breasts and she arches forward with a moan when he squeezes and kneads and tugs at her nipples. He then lowers one hand to find her clit, determined to make her come again.

Tessa digs her nails into his chest, the sharp little bite of pain only egging him on and if he were still capable of complex speech he’d tell her to press harder, to leave marks, that he’d gladly bleed for her and proudly wear a hundred new scars if she were the one who carved them. That he is hers just as much as she is his.

But all he manages to say is “that’s it, angel, take it, whatever you need, take it, it’s yours, I’m yours, oh fuck - ”

A final grind of her hips over his and she’s coming, collapsing against his chest as she shakes apart in his arms.

He swipes his thumb over her clit in soft little strokes until the walls of her pussy stop pulsing around him and she weakly nudges his hand away. He gently lays her down and she blinks up at him as she comes back to herself.

“How do you want me?” She asks, and to hear her so submissive now after riding him nearly to the brink of his own climax makes him shiver in pleasure. He nudges her onto her belly and hears her give a contented little sigh.

“Like this, angel.”

She lets him manipulate her body until it’s just how he knows they both like, with her on her knees and her head pillowed on her forearms.

Pero lines himself up and slowly pushes into her. He doesn’t miss the way her breath hitches when he breaches her entrance, her poor pussy swollen and tender and it fills him with a perverse sense of pride.

“You’ll tell me to stop if it’s too much?”

“I will,” Tessa assures him, “but you can be rough, Pero. I want you to be rough. I want to feel it even when you’re not inside me - ”

He bares his teeth and pulls her hips back against him, quickly working up to a brutal pace that makes Tessa cry out and fist her hands in the blankets beneath her. He can’t see the little outline of the implant in her arm from this angle, and he lets himself fall into a fantasy where it doesn’t exist. They haven’t talked about this aspect of their future yet, but once the thought of fucking Tessa without any method of preventing pregnancy takes hold he can’t shake it. He’d never felt much desire for such a thing in the past, but the idea of seeing Tessa bear his children makes his gut clench with arousal that burns white-hot. Would she want that, he wonders? Would she let him claim her in that way, fuck her full until it takes, make her round with his child -

He digs his fingers into her flesh as he pulls her back flush against his chest, suddenly desperate to feel all of her against him. He holds her to him as his cock punches up into the wet clutch of her cunt. Slick runs down his shaft to soak the curls at the base, each thrust pulling a gorgeous little sound from Tessa’s throat.

She reaches an arm up to bury her fingers in Pero’s hair, turning her head to the side so he can capture her lips in an inelegant kiss.

“I - fuck - I l-love you, Pero,” she pants into his mouth.

“I love you, angel,” he whispers back, the words the prayer of a humbled man on his knees before the woman who holds his heart.

He starts to feel the tell-tale spark of his orgasm in his groin.

“Can you come again? Just one more, Tessa, let me feel it,” he begs, and she reaches to rub at her clit with a high-pitched mhm.

He somehow holds on for the minute it takes her to work herself up to a third climax, but as she squeezes his cock he lets go with a roar, filling her with his cum until he’s completely spent.

Tessa is still shaking with aftershocks when he lowers them both back down to the blankets, his softening cock slipping from her body and smearing their combined release across her thighs. He turns both of them on their sides and just holds her, curling his much larger frame around hers and pressing his lips just below her ear.

When she feels like she can breathe again, Tessa slowly turns and props herself up on one elbow. She nuzzles her nose against his jaw in a gesture of pure affection.

“I’m gonna grab a glass of water,” she murmurs. “You want anything?”

Pero attempts a look of nonchalant curiosity.

“If I’m not mistaken, I remember you telling me about a certain tradition involving milk and cookies on Christmas Eve?”

Tessa falls against him with a giggle, craning her neck to look up at him with an amused shake of her head.

“You are insatiable, Pero Tovar.”

He grins and brushes a hand over her breast, enjoying the way her nipple instantly hardens against his palm.

“Only for some things, mi amor. Only for some things.”

———

Christmas Day dawns with gray skies that nearly match the thick layer of snow on the ground. Tessa wakes slowly, blinking up from where she’s laying on her side to see that the fire has long since burned itself out. Another source of heat lies curled around her, keeping her warm instead.

She twists in Pero’s arms to face him to find him already awake, gazing down at her in a way that makes her heart feel like it grows three sizes.

“Merry Christmas, Pero,” she murmurs, and his mouth twitches with the beginnings of a self-satisfied smirk when he hears how her voice is still a little raspy from overuse the night before.

“Merry Christmas, angel.”

He meets her lips in a good morning kiss, but a thought occurs to her and he doesn’t miss the frown that crosses her features.

“What is it?”

“It’s silly,” she says, shaking her head, “but I was just thinking - I don’t have a Christmas present to give you.”

Pero looks utterly bewildered for a moment. Then he breaks into the broadest grin she’s ever seen and rolls himself on top of her. He dots her face and neck with kisses as he shakes with laughter.

“Is that really what you think? That after all this, you are empty-handed?”

Tessa can’t help the way she squirms underneath him, reveling in the feel of his weight on top of her, even as she scrunches her nose in an attempt to muster some consternation.

“You know what I mean,” she grumbles. “It would have been nice to have something tangible for you, something for you to unwrap for your first modern Christmas.”

“I think you gave me something to unwrap last night, no?” He replies, arching one eyebrow suggestively at her. Tessa lets out an amused little huff.

“I have had so little in my life,” Pero tells her, his tone more serious. “So little I could call my own. But now…” Pero trails his fingertips down the curve of her hip, admiring the way his touch raises goosebumps across her skin. “How my fortunes have changed.”

He presses a soft kiss between her brows before dragging his nose along hers.

“Tessa, you have given me everything. No object wrapped up with a pretty bow could ever compare.”

Her expression softens, and she lifts her head to meet his lips. They spend the next few moments trading gentle kiss for gentle kiss before Pero pulls away.

“Although,” he murmurs thoughtfully, “now that you mention it, I actually have something for you.”

Tessa cocks her head to the side in bemused confusion.

“Really?”

Pero nods, and after a quick kiss to her hair he stands and disappears back into her bedroom.

“Perhaps it’s not truly a gift,” he says when he returns, “because it isn’t truly mine to give, but…”

He kneels down beside her and hands her the pendant, the wood and metal cool in her palm.

Tessa looks at him quizzically.

“It belongs to a witch,” he says simply. “I cannot find the humility to regret taking it in the first place. Not when it brought me to you. But as it happens, I have no further use for it.” He cups her chin and looks her in the eye so there is no mistaking his sincerity. “And I never will.”

He folds his other hand around hers and closes her fingers around the necklace. It’s suddenly very difficult for Tessa to see him through the tears in her eyes.

What can she possibly say to him in this moment? How can she ever convey what it means to her to have him allay the little fear that still lives deep in her heart that he might one day change his mind? How can she explain that I love you is far, far too small a phrase to encompass what she feels for him?

But the endless warmth in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips tell her that she doesn’t need to.

I know. I know, and I feel the same.

Pero’s stomach rumbles and they both laugh, the serious weight of the moment lifted. Tessa grins, and asks him a question she knows she will be happy to ask him over and over for the rest of their lives.

“You hungry?”

———

A few minutes later, Tessa and Pero stand in her kitchen, having barely bothered to put on clothing, and wait for her waffle iron to heat up. The sun breaks through the clouds and bounces off the snow that still blankets everything outside, filling the room with warm, brilliant light. Pero pulls Tessa into his arms and kisses her, soft and slow, just because he can, just because he wants to, and it tastes like love. Like a promise. Like the future.

Like magic.

[fin.]

———————————————————————

a/n:

To every person who read, liked, reblogged, commented on, or sent me a DM or ask about this story: thank you. To everyone who supported and encouraged me as I wrote this, I am more grateful than I can ever say.

This fic would not have happened without the love and support of this fandom community, and in particular:

@ezrasbirdie - Birdie, the moment you hopped into my DMs to tell me you liked this fic, when I was only maybe two chapters into it, I literally made a noise so loud my husband rushed into the room to make sure I was okay. I cannot believe I’m so lucky that I get to call you my friend. Thank you for always letting me ramble about this fic and all my other WIPs at you. ❤️

@honestly-shite - Maia, I think I remember you telling me that this was the first lengthy Pero fic you’d read??? And I’m so honored that you decided to take a chance on this story. AND THEN you went and created the MOST INCREDIBLE ART of my babies and I will never be able to capture in words how much I love that art and how much it means to me. Plus the art of Pero in a leather jacket??? I’m gonna work that in somewhere in this universe at some point, I swear. 💝

@jazzelsaur & @radiowallet - Jess & Cat, thank you for being two of the best friends a girl could possibly ask for, and two of the biggest cheerleaders of this fic. Your support and encouragement and love got me through writing this story and frequently just get me through the damn day. 💜🖤

@whataperfectwasteoftime - Penny, I cannot tell you how much I look always forward to our now near-daily chats. Please never ever stop yelling at me about Marcus Pike. Or Dave York. Or literally anything and anyone. And thank you for letting me yell back about Pero and Tessa and all sorts of things. 💖

@oonajaeadira - Adira, my Pero sister. Your reblogs of this story make my whole freaking day every single time. Thank you for talking me off the ledge when I was having such anxiety about landing this unwieldy plane, and reassuring me that, duh, of course I could do this. You had faith in me when I did not have faith in myself and I am forever grateful. 🧡

@iamskyereads @green-socks @lowlights - Skye, Sam, Laura: the asks and thoughts and inspo and comments y’all sent me kept me going on this story. Obsessing over this man and his scar and his scowl and his everything else with you guys gave me writing motivation out the wazoo even on days when I’d been feeling stuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 💙💚💛

Finally, an extra special thank you to my husband, for always being my #1 fan, for beta-ing every word I publish, for accepting and tolerating my Pedro hyperfixation with good humor, for cheering me on every step of the way in everything that I do, and for just being my person. I love you. 💘

Now, with all that out of the way…

I also have some good news: I am not done writing about Pero and Tessa.

✨Announcing The House I Will Live In, the Stranger At My Gate sequel!✨

Join me for a look into Pero and Tessa’s lives after Pero decides to stay. I do not plan for this to be a full-length, plot-heavy fic, but rather more of a multi-part, super-extended, relaxed fit-ish epilogue to SAMG.

More fluff.

More smut.

More magic.

(And more Moira.)

Coming soon.

❤️

[cursestothemoon]

A Cruel Favor

Regulus Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Request: Could I get and angsty and sad blurb with Regulus? Nothing specific in mind, Regulus’ entire life is pretty tragic already- just throwing some strained and kind of heartbreaking romance into that mix sorry i like pain this is how i cope

Summary: Your relationship with the youngest Black brother in the form of memories seen in a pensieve by Sirius Black.

Warnings: Death, sadness, crying, the dark mark, ghosts

Word Count: 3265

Author's Note: babe you asked for a blurb and i just did not listen i am so sorry, if you'd still like a blurb let me know and i'll whip up a little short piece but regardless i hope you enjoy this 😌

“You didn’t know him! You didn’t want to know him!” Your voice bellowed, trembling with the burning anger you held in your heart for the eldest Black brother.

It was true, back when the war was just ‘politics’ and the ‘Dark Lord’ a name whispered behind closed doors, Sirius Black had already made up his mind about his family- Regulus included.

“He was my brother.” Sirius spoke the statement as if just the mere fact of relation was supposed to trump that he hadn't even spoken to his brother in the months prior to his death.

You let out a bitter laugh, “Don’t lie for the sake of saving face, you never saw him as a brother; not then and certainly not now.”

Sirius seemed taken aback by your accusation, his words getting lost on his tongue for a moment before he quickly regained his fiery passion for argument.

“He betrayed me.”

“You were the one who betrayed him!” Your accusatory finger pointed at Sirius.

The eldest Black brother’s features went stoney, “The moment he decided to get that mark, was the moment he lost his name as my brother.”

Everything in the mangey old house seemed to still, a silence falling so powerful you could hear a pin drop. Your slow footsteps were exaggerated in the quiet, each creak ringing in both yours and Sirius’ ears. With a tired hand, you pushed a small pouch onto the surface of the dining room table, the vials inside clinking together softly.

“They’re numbered.” You breathed out. “There is so much you don’t know, Sirius.”

You walked through the door and onto the street hastily, not wasting any time to apparate back home.

Sirius sat down in the nearest chair with a huff, his knees spread as his shoulders slid down the back of the chair. He hadn’t remembered just how far up his brother’s ass you were.

Roughly, he rubbed his face with his palms before lazily reaching for the dark velvet pouch on the table. The emerald green reminded him not only of his brother, but of his entire family, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Sirius couldn’t help the groan that left his mouth at the memories of his family that seemed to plague his mind.

Fittingly, Sirius opened the pouch to reveal just that. The silvery, viscous tendrils that floated through each vial were immediately recognized by the pureblood. You had given him your memories...and a letter.

You deserve to know him.

Y/N L/N

Sirius’ curiosity regarding what secrets of his brother’s seemed to be swimming in the vials bubbled over, he was sure 12 Grimmauld Place was harbouring a pensieve somewhere within its walls, he’d just have to get up and find it.

17 October 1974

Barty Crouch Jr. was an insolent child, the type to collect bones and listen to them rattle. He had a nervous tick, his tongue slithering past his lips every so often in a manner that was so serpentine it made your skin prick.

“Come on then, L/N, be a good little girl and do as I say.”

You threw down your quill in frustration, “Bugger off, Crouch. I’ve said no.”

“Don't be like that,” Barty smirked, coming closer to where you were sitting. “It’s only some homework. You were going to do yours anyway, why not get some extra practice in by doing mine too?”

“I’d rather have unforgivables practiced on me than do anything you ask.”

His sickly sweet smile wasn’t one you were expecting, his voice low and threatening, “That can be arranged.”

Your blood ran cold as you watched his nimble fingers move toward his wand pocket in his robes. Truthfully, you should’ve known better. Being in the same house as Barty allowed you the luxury of hearing all the gossip surrounding him and his hobbies, dark magic and curses being at the top of that list.

“Barty.”

The cold baritone made the sandy-haired menace stop in his tracks, his face contorting into an expression of mild annoyance and frustration.

“There’s no need for you to be acting like a child. Quite humiliating asking someone else to do your work, isn’t it, Crouch? Are you too thick to get it done yourself?”

Barty turned to look at his friend, words jumbling as he tried to figure out how to get himself out of the hole he had dug.

“Reg-” The stone-like stare had Barty cowering and mouth snapping shut, the boy seemingly trying to fold in on himself.

With a simple nod of his head, Regulus directed the him to make himself useful elsewhere, but you were far too taken by the handsome boy in front of you to notice the stomping footsteps of Barty’s as he left. Of course you had known of Regulus Black, seen him from afar and even once had Transfiguration with him, but seeing him up close was an experience in and of itself. His skin was ghostly pale, hair dark and wavy as it fell just below his ears, and his cheekbones were high accentuating the slant of his nose. Regulus Black was beautiful, everything about him seemed to be placed just right and sculpted with the utmost care and attention.

He turned to you, your eyes meeting before he gave you an appraising look.

“Regulus.” His hand struck out, a rather rugged introduction.

Slowly, you took his hand in yours and proceeded to shake it. You couldn’t seem to rid yourself of the feeling that your hand was far too dirty, far too boring to be touching his, to even be near his.

“Y/n L/n, thank you- for that.” You were proud of yourself for not allowing your voice to shake.

“I’m sorry he was a bother.”

Regulus seemed to lack the ability of holding a conversation, he nodded- you assumed a goodbye- and got ready to make his way to the dorms.

“Wait,” Your voice came out before you could stop it. “You could stay, I’m almost done anyway. We could...talk.”

The suggestion had the boy's ears turning pink, his words coming out stuttered and jumbled, a stark contrast from the boy who had told off Barty so eloquently.

“If you- alright.”

You thought for a moment before speaking again, “You’re not very good at talking to people are you?”

“Excuse my blatant honesty, but you make me quite nervous.”

It was your turn to have your ears turn a soft hue of red, “I could say the same about you.”

5 April 1975

“Haven’t you got your own side of the blanket? Must you be so close to me?” You giggled, trying to roll away from Regulus while still avoiding the grass.

Regulus smiled, his eyes closing and nose scrunching in thought before he spoke, “I prefer to be close to you; making sure you won’t run out on me.”

Both of you began giggling, his head falling to nudge your shoulder. Ultimately, Regulus shuffled away from your side, allowing just about a foot of space in between your bodies. The wind rustled your hair as you turned your neck to look at the youngest Black as he sat up, his legs stretched and crossed at the ankles, arms propping himself up as his palms pressed flat against the floor.

It was no secret that Regulus was beautiful. His dark hair- now gently flowing in the cool breeze- stood out against his pale skin, freckles were dusted delicately over his aristocratic nose and sharp cheekbones. You could tell he’d never worked a day in his life with how handsome and soft his hands were. His fingers were long and slender, never dry or rough, and his nails perfectly trimmed and always clean.

Regulus Black was absolutely perfect and you were regretting ever complaining about his proximity.

You were quick to right your wrong, bashfully you raised yourself onto all fours and crawled over to your boyfriend. Regulus tried to hold in his smirk, avoiding turning to look at you directly but you could tell his resolve was breaking.

“Regulus…” You spoke his name with an innocent lilt, sitting back on your shins once you were close enough to have your knees touching his thigh.

He hummed, not giving you the satisfaction of having his full attention.

A huff of frustration fell past your lips at his stubbornness as you threw your leg over his thighs, straddling his legs just above his knees. His composure was thinning, a wide smile threatening to spread across his thin lips.

“You’re far too close,” he teased, his hand coming up as if trying to stop you from getting any closer. “I believe you are on my side of the blanket, L/n.”

“Don’t be so fickle, Black.”

Regulus’ pale blue eyes found yours, his delicate hand coming up to run across the delicate collar of your dress.

“It’s in my nature isn’t it?” His eyes held a certain sadness that you could not place, one you wouldn’t see again until a few years later.

Your lips parted to respond to him, only to be interrupted by a Hogwarts ghost floating nearby. It was a ghost neither you nor Regulus were familiar with and as she passed she mumbled something- rather spitefully- about young love. The event had your train of thought derailed, a quiet giggle erupting from your throat as the transparent, deceased woman floated on.

Regulus seemed to find the woman just as amusing as you did, his eyes crinkling with laughter as you two now looked at each other in fits of hysterics.

“Oh her poor soul!” You exclaimed, eyes looking off in the direction she had gone. “If you were a ghost, Reg, where would you haunt with your undead presence.”

His expression contorted into one of reminiscence, “Uncle Alphard’s cherry orchard just a few kilometers from Monts de Venasque. When we were little, Sirius and I would play in the trees. I could sit in those cherry trees for hours, everything just seemed to disappear. Alphard’s been burned off the tapestry since, but he’s left the property in my possession along with the small house on the land. I think if I were to choose one place to spend eternity, it would be there.”

You smiled softly at his answer.

“And you?” He asked, bringing you out of your lovesick haze.

“Me?” You chuckled. “I’d suppose my eternity would be well spent as long as I was somewhere with you.”

28 June 1976

It seemed the entirety of 12 Grimmauld Place shook with how hard Sirius had slammed the front door.

He was gone.

Completely and entirely gone.

And Regulus was completely and entirely alone now.

Regulus swiftly made his way up the stairs and to his room, just barely avoiding a collision with the poor house elf.

“Y/n’s room.” The words were spoken clearly and concisely as the floo powder fell from his shaky hands.

The time of night- 2:27 am- was of little importance to Regulus, he needed to see you.

You woke up with a jolt, the sound of someone stumbling into your room and panicked mumbling doing nothing to ease your nerves though the mop of dark curls had your heart calming down.

“Reg?”

He turned to look at you with heartbroken eyes, watery and bloodshot.

“He’s gone.” He choked out.

You kicked the blankets off yourself and stood up from your bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor.

Keeping a calm tone you slowly got closer to him, “Who’s gone, love?”

His pain was so evident, rolling off him in waves, “Sirius- he’s not coming back.”

“Oh,” You sighed, treading lightly. “I’m sur-”

“No!” He cried, “Burned off the tapestry, probably with the Potters- he’s gone an-and he left me with them.”

Regulus’ anguish, tear stained cheeks, had your own eyes welling with unshed tears. It was clear words would do nothing to calm him, instead you opted for pushing yourself into him and taking his crying form into your arms. His body seemed to give out as you held him, his tears soaking your shirt as he wailed into your neck.

Neither of you could tell how long you stood in the middle of your room seemingly holding him together, but his cries subsided into gentle whimpers and the occasional sniffle as his nose nudged the side of your neck.

His voice came out rough and strained, just barely above a whisper, “Please don’t- don’t leave me like Si- like he did.”

You could feel your heart shatter, “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

“I don’t know how I would’ve survived in this mess if I had never known you.”

Your breath came out ragged as you spoke the truest words you've ever dared to speak, “My heart beats for you, Regulus.”

30 December 1979

His forearm itched.

It seemed to always have an odd itch ever since he was sixteen.

Regulus watched your form get closer, bundled in a thick overcoat and a dark blue scarf- Christmas present from himself- wrapped neatly around your neck. You were the picture of beauty, like a living doll with your soft smile and adoring eyes.

“My love.” You greeted him, leaning in to place a soft kiss against his cold cheek.

His eyes seemed distant, your only greeting a tight lipped smile.

Your eyebrows knit together, “Everything alright?”

Regulus nodded, his eyes swimming with a sadness so familiar, “Just taking you in.”

He pulled off his leather gloves, stuffing them deep in his coat pocket before reaching his hand out to hold your jaw, his thumb running across your skin. The action was comforting and you couldn’t help but close your eyes to savour the feeling of his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

You let out a small gasp when you felt him take your lips in a slow kiss. It was passionate, loving, yet there was a certain finality to it that had a shiver run up your spine in the most unpleasant way.

“I have the cruelest favor to ask of you, and I can only hope you’ll forgive me once I do.”

Your stomach dropped, “What do you mean, Regulus? What- what favor?”

“Please, try to understand-”

“What favor?”

“I couldn’t-”

“Tell me what the favor is, Regulus.”

Your voice had an edge to it that made him compose himself almost instantly.

He took a breath before speaking, his eyes looking off somewhere behind you as he spoke, “He’s getting stronger.”

You didn’t need to ask who this ‘he’ was, the tone made it very clear.

“He has these… horcruxes. Incredibly dark magic, I don't know how many but I know of one. It’s hidden and I’ve found out the location, I can destroy it I know I can but-”

His tone was hushed and your heart rate had started to pick up speed.

“But you don’t know if you’ll live to tell the tale?” You asked with a humorless laugh.

The look in Regulus’ eyes had told you, you were right.

“I can’t let him continue. If this could stop him, weaken him even, it’s worth whatever the consequence to myself may be.” He argued.

You pushed yourself further from him, “I can’t- I won’t lose you. No, there’s no way.”

His expression shifted into one of sorrow and pleading, “I have to.”

And you knew there was no changing his mind.

You bit the side of your lip anxiously, looking at the ground before asking, “And this favor?”

The heartbreak was almost palpable, his voice going raw.

“I cannot be fully prepared to do anything that is necessary to destroy this horcrux if-”

He cut himself off with an intake of breath.

“If I know you’ll be waiting for my return, if I know what I have to leave behind I may be tempted to not go through with my plan.”

You couldn’t help but feel and look horrified, “What are you asking of me, Regulus?”

He seemed to flinch at the tone of your voice, a tone you’d never used before and one he couldn’t name.

“I need you to obliviate yourself from my memory.”

It felt as though your chest had collapsed in on itself, “I-I couldn-”

“You have to!” Regulus cried, his arms gripping the sides of your face as you couldn’t help but let a choked sob escape from your lips. “It’s the only way I’ll be able to go through with it, I can't know that there’s a possibility of leaving you.”

“Please, Regulus, you can’t ask this of me.” You choked out, searching his eyes for some sort of humor, something that told you it was all a cruel joke.

He pressed his lips against your forehead, both of your eyes closing as you two took in short, ragged breaths.

Everything seemed darker. The flowers in the Black garden were cold and dead, the snow wasn’t snow at all, instead dangerous sheets of ice. It was then you realized the war, the death eaters, everything had become so real.

“There is a letter on your bed at home, I’ve settled everything for you. I’m going to stand against the pillar, my back to you, and you are going to do it from behind the hedges so we won’t see each other after. You need to leave once it’s done alright?”

You nodded solemnly, knowing there was no use in fighting it. The cause was bigger than you, bigger than Regulus. Everyone made sacrifices, this just had to be yours.

“My heart beats for you, Y/n, whether I know it or not.”

“And mine for you, Regulus.” You smiled sadly, pulling his wrist up to your face and pulling back his sleeve to reveal his dark mark, pressing a kiss to the skin you spoke, “You aren’t them, you never were and you never will be.”

Regulus smiled but said nothing as he lowered his arms and put his gloves back on. With slow steps he walked to the pillar and looked back at you one last time.

“I’m just taking you in.” He whispered, before slowly turning.

You took your wand from your coat as you took even slower steps to stand just far enough for him not to notice you after it had been done. Regulus felt his resolve crumble with each crunch of your boots against the frozen ground, his eyes screwed shut- tears rolling down his face freely- as he prepared for what was coming.

With a shaky hand you raised your wand.

“Obliviate.”

Present

Sirius seemed to be thrown back from the pensieve, as if the memory had rejected him from viewing any longer, still sensitive. He felt an odd tickling sensation run down his cheek, his hand raising to brush away a stray tear as he fell into a nearby chair.

He never knew…

***

You pushed open the backdoor of your small home, the warm scent of cherry trees welcoming you. The sun was just barely starting to set as you looked off into the horizon of the vast field of trees, if you looked long enough you could make out the handsome silhouette of a boy you once knew sitting up in a cherry tree.

Only a few short months later, the lone figure would be joined by another… a brother.

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinruby003

@maybesandohnos

@onlyfreds

@tayyx

[genevievemd]

Long Story Short (2/4)

Chapter Two: All Too Well

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure), mentions of F!MC (Genevieve McClure) x M!OC (Ryan Ozwell) Word Count: 1732 Rating: T Category: Angsty fluff, Mini Series Trope(s): and an ex came back in the picture,

Summary: ~Series: The four times Ethan met Genevieve’s exes. (In chronological order) ~ Chapter: Gen finally reveals a painful part of her past to Ethan. (Set a month after their first date)

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, a few curse words

A/N: This chapter makes me sad, I really put my little baby through so much before Ethan. Enjoy the angsty fluff. 

The sun is just beginning to set as they walk into Ethan’s apartment. The midsummer sin casting shadows across the living room floor. Its amazing how quickly she’s gotten comfortable in his home. Only one month into officially dating, and Genevieve would gladly spent every night here if she could. 

She sits at the kitchen island as she watches him place their takeout onto the counter, then turning to grab them plates. She knows the question is coming, the one about why she was so absent today. A part of her is dreading it, terrified of having to give him the answer, but a larger part us ready to take down the final brick from the wall around her heart. 

Because, although they’ve been only been official for a month, they’ve really been together since the attack eight months ago. And it was high time she let him know all of her. 

Especially because this last part, this terrible and painful secret, could completely change is mind about her. 

“Ethan?” Genevieve takes a deep breath, deciding to bite the bullet and get it over with. 

“G.” 

“Do you remember after our first night together, when you asked about my tattoo and I told you I got it after a really bad breakup? And then you asked about it and said I could tell you when I felt safe enough?” 

“Yes.” 

She bites her lip, unsure of how to continue. Her mind a jumbled mess of words and fractured sentences. 

Ethan turns at her continued silence. “You’re ready now?” 

Gen nods, taking a deep breath. “Is that okay?” 

“Of course it’s okay.” He quickly drops the takeout container in his hand, coming to stand beside her. “You’re sure you’re ready? You don’t have to ever tell me if you don’t want to.” 

“I want to. We’re serious and you should know all of me. Even this part.” 

“Alright. Let’s go sit on the couch.” He takes her hand and leads her to the couch, letting her keep hold of it as they get settled. 

“I know I told you it was bad.” 

“Yes, and I put it together on my own, how bad it truly was.” 

“Really?” Gen looks up from their joined hands, surprised. 

“I could see it in the way you respond to certain things and the way you are with me.” 

“But you never said anything.” 

“Because you weren’t ready to tell me. I had told you, when you were ready. Regardless of whether I figured it out on my own or not.” 

“Right. Well, thank you.” She traces the lines on his palm, memorizing every inch of his hand. “I don’t know where to start.” 

“What’s his name?” His voice is soft, gentle. Patient. 

“Ryan Ozwell.” 

“How old where you when you dated?” 

“I was 19, a freshman in undergrad.” 

“He wasn’t?” 

“No. He was 24, and…” 

This is the part that scares her, the dirty details of the affair that ruined and maimed her in a million different ways. 

Gen looks up, finding his eyes already on her. Full of concern and dare she say love. 

It gives her the courage to press on. Because if he looks at her like that, he can’t possibly leave her now. 

“And my T.A., so technically my teacher. Like you.” She takes a deep breath, feeling her eyes begin to blur and burn. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“Doing it again with you.” 

“But you aren’t.” Ethan offers her a small smile, free hand reaching out to brush a tear off her cheek. “If I thought you were simply with me because I’m your boss, we wouldn’t have made it this far. That’s not who are you, Genevieve. The fact that I’m your mentor, your attending, is and was only a complication. Not the deciding factor. As I’m sure it was with Ryan, as well.” 

“You don’t care?” 

“No. Like I said, I know you.” 

“Yeah.” She smiles softly, feeling a small weight lift off her shoulders. “I’ve never had someone like that before.” 

“You do now.” 

“That might change when you hear the rest.” She loses her voice as the fear comes back. 

Taking ahold of her lungs with an iron grip, squeezing until there’s nothing left. 

“Doubtful. Nothing will ever change the way I look at you, or how I feel about you, Rookie.” 

It’s the first time he’s called her that in a long time, and it makes her throat constrict even more. The nickname, over time, had turned from something simple to something heavy. Something loaded with feelings that he’d once deemed impossible and forbidden. 

And the use of it now, in a moment where Gen is half certain he’ll run, makes her want to run.

“Really? Cause…” She looks down at their still joined hands, watching his thumb glide across her skin, as she finds the words to continue on. 

“I feel like you wouldn’t want to be with someone who stayed with the guy who mentally and verbally and emotionally abused her for an entire fucking year because she was stupid and naïve and thought if she just showed him more love and listened more that he’d change. And then only broke up with him after he laughed in her fucking face when she finally told him that she loved him and then found out that he didn’t love her back and only stuck around because she was an easy lay and reminded her that she’s trash and unworthy of real love and that she’s a fucking moron for thinking true love was real.” 

She’s a mess by the time she’s done. Tears and mascara running down her cheeks, hands trembling and breath lost. Standing up from the couch with lightening speed, moving to stand by the large windows. Desperate for the glass to shatter and break her too. 

It’s been almost a decade since that man had broken her and yet, every time she thinks of her, or speaks of the calamitous affair, she’s catapulted back. The pain as fresh as it was on that very last night. 

“I’m sorry, what? He… Genevieve.” Ethan stands, crossing the room to be beside her once more. Horror and shock plastered across his handsome face. 

“Surprise. I am used and abused garbage.” She offers a disingenuous smile, as more tears spill from her eyes. 

“Don’t say that. Don’t even joke.” He gathers her in his arms, one arm tight across her waist as his other hand moves to cradle the back of her head. “Gen, I’m so sorry.” 

“Why?” 

“That he did that to you. That he said those deplorable things. That you had to endure that.” 

“I did it to myself.” She finally gives into the need to cling to him, her small arms wrapping around his waist. “I stayed with him, even when everyone around me was throwing red flags in my face.” 

“You did not do it to yourself.” Ethan presses a kiss into her hair, holding her tighter. “G, you didn’t deserve that, regardless of if you stayed or not. His actions are inexcusable and not your fault in the slightest.” 

“Yeah.” She chokes on a sob as she nods, closing her eyes as tightly as she can. 

“Where is this sorry excuse of a man now?” 

“California, but no matter what I do, how many times I block him on social media, he always finds me. Cause he thinks I belong to him, because no one else will ever want me.” 

“Well, that’s a lie. I want you, I always have.” Ethan pulls back, just enough for their eyes to meet. “When was the last time he found you?” 

“Today, I think. I don’t know of it was actually him, but I think I saw him when I stopped for coffee on the way in this morning. His friend works at Harvard so it’s not impossible that he’d be here and I swear I head his voice at the counter.” 

His eyes search her face, putting all the pieces together. He’s always been able to read her like a book. Figuring out every detail like a case he needed to solve. It was a comfort she didn’t know she needed, and now one she doesn’t ever want to live without.

“That’s why you were so distant today, right?” 

“Yeah. I wanted to be as far away from here as possible. But then I remembered our rule and I realized that,” Gen brings her hands to his face, his stubbled cheeks scratching her palms. “If there was anywhere in the world that I felt safest, it was here with you.” 

“And that’s why you’re telling me now?” 

“Yes and also to make sure I really was safe. That I could tell you and you wouldn’t leave like you always promise.” 

“I’d never.” Ethan’s expression softens, his own hands moving to mimic her own. “You are safe with me, Gen. Always have been, always will be.” 

“I know.” She whispers in the space between them, eyes watery again. But this time from relief instead of pain. “I know we always, well we usually end the night in bed, but after dinner can we just… can you just hold me tonight instead?” 

“Of course. I’d like that.” 

“Cool.” Genevieve sighs, melting against him. The solace in her heart unlike anything she’s felt before. 

No one has ever known her this well, she’s never trusted someone - other than her sister - with this secret before. But telling Ethan, and finally giving all of herself to him felt better than she could have imaged. 

“Will you make me a promise?” Ethan pulls away, separating them just enough for him to look down at her tearstained face. 

“Yeah.” 

“The next time he tries to contact you, or you think you’ve seen him, come find me. Don’t carry what you were feeling today alone. Let me be her for you. Let me protect you.” 

“I can do that.” 

He smiles at her again, leaning back into her space. His lips on hers in a kiss that could make her cry. 

One that proves Ryan wrong. Because no one would kiss her like this, hold her like this, if they didn’t truly love her. 

Even if they hadn’t said it yet. 

To Ethan she was perfect, exactly the way she is and now there wasn’t anything he didn’t know about her.

A/N: If you want to read when Ethan meets Ryan in person for the first time you can do it here. 

Next Chapter is on her other high school boyfriend, Jackson. 

Details on her exes can be found here and here

(tagging separately) 

[siriusmydeer]

sirus smut please !

something where they’re like in a secret relationship and nobody know so someone flirts with y/n and sirus gets jealous and possessive but y/n is bratty cos she want the relationship to be public so then he leaves her with a bunch of hickies to show everyone she’s his

or something along those lines 🙈😹😹

his girl

sirius black x fem!reader

summary: sirius gets jealous after evan rosier is caught flirting with you.

word count: 2.0k

warnings: possession kink, kissing, penetration, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dom!sirius, sub!reader, borderline humiliation kink, possessive marking, fingering, exhibitionism, borderline voyerism, mentions of sirius’ family, daddy kink, swearing, bratty!reader, mentions of relationship self doubt/insecurity, hair pulling, one degration, mentions of bad stereotypes.

the great hall was staggeringly boisterous, the teachers facepalming at the noise. every murmur from students flowing through your ear drums hastily, while your eyes glimpsed around the crevices of the great-hall for a certain vermillion-clad gryffindor.

you were well aware you wouldn’t have the gallantry to strike a conversation with him but his mere presence was comforting as you idly spoke to your friends. your irises effortlessly catching the shades of umber, navy, emerald and finally famous-scarlet red. 

but, sirius had yet to arrive to the great hall. you creased your brows in deliberation for a moment on where he could be rather than the great hall, the sly jab on your shoulder becoming known as you turned around the face... evan rosier? you had never had a prominent conversation with the boy, rather just a good morning or a subtle head nod.

it was a mere conversation really, just talk of potions and a bit of charms. but mid conversation, the eldest black brother happened to waltz into the deafening hall where everyone had been munching away, his pearly irises catching a glimpse of your standing figure along with a male one, a scene of what looking like some unkempt, filthy slytherin pushing a lock of hair out of his girlfriends face. 

it was a simple gesture really, to yourself at least; just something friendly from a house mate. but to sirius it was like the slytherin boy was almost aching to get into your knickers. to every schoolmates knowledge, you were single and so was sirius, the both of you not even being associated with each other.

the thought of someone even mentioning sirius with a slytherin would’ve been foolish and illiterate. so sirius as a bachelor was extremely alluring to the peering eyes of hogwarts who were almost desperate to even strike a conversation up with sirius before taking it farther. 

after the intentions were abundant in sirius’ mind he made the overused and reoccurring comment that he had to return to his mates. but even then, there weren't running suspicions that sirius black, true womanizer of hogwarts himself, had a girlfriend. 

he almost felt rageful that another male had been flirting with you, he wasn't shocked of course; you were elegant, the way your hair ravished in the wind, your prominent and opulent features of your face were striking. so he couldn't truly blame anyone for wanting to strike up a ‘conversation’ with you in final efforts to go on a date with them after your polite declines, but sirius could sure be bitter and resentful with anyone who tried.

the gryffindor strode over to the two slytherins, the apple in his eye and the filthy prick. his intentions clear in his mind without rationalizing what your unyielding mind might think of his dramatic reactions.

“oi, sorry to interrupt. just got to steal y/n away for a moment, just some questions on the transfiguration homework.” he tenaciously spoke in a quick pace with a grasp on your forearm, your brows wrinkled at the thought of any transfiguration homework you might've been assigned. 

but, in-fact, there was no transfiguration homework. 

“would you like to explain to me as to why you childishly pulled me away from my conversation, you know that's rude sirius” you puffed at his hast pace throughout the hallways until he had found an uncrowded and more private corridor. 

“would you like to explain to me why evan rosier is flirting with my girl?” he inquired back dramatically, you percerviered his behaviour with an eyeroll and a sigh emitting from your lips whilst you crossed your arms in irritation.

“ahh, that's just it. maybe its because he doesn't know i’m your girl , or anyone for that matter. because what,” you annoyingly jabbered in question, moving your hand to shell around your ear in his direction once you continued to speak, “sirius black doesn't want the school to know he’s in a relationship with.. a slytherin.” you spoke dramatically to prove your point further, removing your hand from your ear and back to be crossed with your other arm.

a scowl carved in his face at your insinuation that he was ashamed to be dating you, when rather that wasn’t the case at all. it was partially due to the fact that he didn't fancy for his family to pry in his private life as he was the only walking gryffindor in the noble house of black. he was privy to their obnoxious behaviour in sticking themselves in other peoples business, and rather minding their noses to themselves. 

but as time continued he was also becoming aware to your petty behaviours at the knowledge that he might've been reluctant and abashed to be with you; the colour you were addressed in the, hues of viridescent, something labeled in the eyes of the hogwarts as malicious and evil. rather than your personality that he had truly undressed as quick-witted, diligent and versatile. 

“alright then, i guess i’ll be showing those pricks who you belong too.” he murmured under his breath whilst shaking the nob of the sterling silver broom closet, your eyes narrowed why he was attempting to open a broom closet in the moment of your conversation.

your question throughly answered by the hostile grip he had on the crevice of your waist, your back almost instantaneously rubbed against the, now closed, oak wood door. the heavy breathing prominent in the small confined space at the touch of his lips on your jugular.

the suckle of his lips was enough for you to grasp onto his forearm that had been hanging in the air from his hand pressed against the door, your body slightly writhing against his chest at his sealed lips on the base of your jugular.

the recurrent bobbing in your throat was extrusive, your mouth emitting minuscule mewls from his extensive afflictions onto your flesh. the small bloom of scarlet now forming onto your skin from the modest graze of his pearled teeth.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he chided in remark lowly into the shell of your ear before grasping on the curvature of your jaw, his lips suctioning at the centre of your throat; prominent to anyone who would even glance in your direction and being able to glimpse and vermillion how imbedded into your skin.

his nimble fingers jerking onto the small lace against your hip, the glide of the flimsy material of your underwear now clutched against your thighs. his palm remainingly clutched onto the nape of your neck to anchor you against the wall, his opposite fingers dancing north onto the planes of your thighs.

his lips still suctioning across the dermis of your flesh, the pad of his middle finger now pressed onto your swollen clit. the swirl of his fingers emitting a gasp from your throat, his very touch having your hips bucking into the smoothness of his palm.

the graze of his teeth against your pulse point causing you to whimper into the poorly ventilated air of the closet. the pads of his finger sultry dragging down to the folds of your cunt, throughly encasing your cunt around his fingers inside of your walls whilst he was diligently turning your skin to the light hue of maroon from his lips.

“please, please daddy— need you, need you so bad.” you trembled through a jutted lip, your pleas for him extraordinarily clear but your words almost incoherent from the duration jumbled sentence.

“needy baby, you are.” he chastised, removing his hands from the warmth of your cunt; as the feeling of emptiness was abrupt it spewed a whine from your throat. in elation of your sexual yearning, the clutter of his belt hit the stone frigid tiling of the closet along with his ashen slacks; the feeling of his prick erected from the desperate mumbles you had spoken now free from his boxers.

the drag of his cock through your folds had enough effect onto your edged nervous system was tempting, the quiver in your legs and the tremble in your throat from the recurrent whines in anticipation was enticing to him.

the raise of your leg that was bound to his hip was so desirable he wished to see the scene in third person, he could bet billions of galleons on how desperate you looked for him just by the grasp of your fingers onto the dress shirt wrapped around his waist.

his prick was able to collect the dribbling arousal from your cunt, managing to push himself into the depths of your cunt with one roll of his hips. the exceeding breath you took at the collision between his cock and you g-spot was extraordinary.

the pacing moment he took for you to adjust was almost nothing when his hips succeed in a sultry recurrent grinding motion. you wailed at the stimulation of his palms kneading the flesh of your backside between his fingers whilst his hips without falter pulsed into the crevices of your clenched walls.

at his diligent and unwavering thrusts a low and interminable moan escaped the apex of your lips, your mind in a blear, unable to determine anything besides the male that had been promptly fucking your cunt with wavering students just outside.

the groan of pleasure purging from his mouth directly onto the swollen flesh of your neck, the vibrational signals scattering onto your nerves at his decree. his lips directly pressed onto the searing flesh of the side of your jugular whispering the fine words, “i’m going to breed you like my bitch, understand puppy?” sirius inquired.

you whimpered at his precise words onto your skin, the hast nod of your head almost pressing against his flushed cheek. your cunt ever so extremely sensitive you could feel every crawling vein on the thickness of his girth, the intensity of his thrusts only continuing when you were on the brink of your release.

“wanna cum daddy, please let me.” you whimpered into the carnal aroma that was scattered across every atom of air of the confined space, a growing plea for permission to finish going straight to his mind whilst he continued thrust inside of you.

“alright puppy, wanna cum with you. gonna fill you with m’babies, yeah?” he tantalizing questioned, apprehensive to the fact that you would blearily nod in submission to him, and him only.

which is exactly what you did.

the root of your hair nearly painful from his infliction at the grasp on your tresses, suddenly painting your walls with thick ribbons of his pallid, ivory seed. your over-broiled and spilt release occurring right before his own, at the churning meld of euphoric elation on every pending nerve into your blood stream.

his fervidly slipped out from your cunt, fleetly tucking himself away and grasping onto the black flimsy material of your knickers that had been sprawled against your left ankle, now promptly gliding them over your limbs and onto the waistline of your hips; your ashen coloured skirt covering your knickers but scarcely covering the swell of your bum, considering the hem work that had been done since the first semester of the school year.

his release promptly spilling out of your cunt and a small dribble subtle on your thighs, but exceedingly more prominent as it oozed from your lace knickers. you were utterly bewildered at the tap of his fingers against your bottom as he ushered you out of the closet you had spent your previous venereal moments in.

“you wanted everyone to know, hmm? this is what you asked for.” he stated with a smirk at the slight humiliation you were bound to endure at the glinting eyes of hogwarts viewing at the marks almost tattooed into your jugular.

as you wobbled over to the great hall not many people paid any mind to sirius’ hand beckoning you around, besides the same green clad slytherin that had been his trifling pursuits for you, his eyes enlarged at the marks ridden over your flesh.

“oh fuck me.” you muttered under your breath as more people started to glance around the great hall, at the never to be bound together couple standing together in the centre of the great hall.

“already did.”

taglist: @falling-loki @ronbrokemyheart @aricela @inglourious-imagines @kirascottage @five-cups-of-coffee @myloveforluna @abbott27 @hufflepuffsfordraco @slytherclawbitch

[palbabor-writes]

Lá Bealtaine

Pairing: Choso x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, cunnilingus, SMUT, NSFW/18+only, loss of virginity - if you squint, using sex to mask feelings & trauma, mild JJK manga spoilers; but if you’ve seen the anime you’re pretty caught up on this stuff

Word Count: 4732

“Why do you let them––us, stay?”

You lift your head, blinking at his obsidian surveyance. “What am I supposed to do? Say no? Not like I put an advertisement on the door: seeking dangerous men and nefarious spirits, inquire within. I’m not wanting to die, you know? Besides, it’s not all bad.”

“Name one thing that’s not bad about this,” Choso demands, his tone clipped.

Why? Why does he care? You’re not someone he can save. There’s no room for you. You aren’t family.

“Only one thing? Well, that’s easy,” you continue, the steady lull of your voice jerking him out of his musings. “You.”

Notes: hehe, when i said i had Choso brain rot i was not joking. this dude has been on my mind for weeks, ya’ll. WEEKS. special thanks to @libiraki​ & @kugutsuu​ for beta editing! if you haven’t checked out their works please stop what you are doing & scuttle yourself over there bc you are missing out.

Lá Bealtaine [l̪ˠaː ˈbʲal̪ˠt̪ˠənʲə] 'the bright or yellow day of Beltane' - a time of fire and fertility.

It started with a touch. A simple interaction; but it sticks to the back of his mind and the heat of your hand lingers, a remembrance that he can’t shake.

He’d returned to the dingy bowels of the hideout, boots echoing over the well-worn floor as he made his way to his customary seat; unaware of the blood that oozed from the strip above his nose. Legs and arms are heavy as he slots himself into the chair, his eyes drooping closed as he leans his dark head against the cushions. 

Two weeks.

Choso’s younger brothers were killed two weeks ago. Leaving him alone; adrift in his loss, his failure as an elder brother. The remembrance of them stung in the morning and was an ache by afternoon, but in the night’s darkness it burned.

He will have his chance, he reminds himself, furrowing his brow; seeking the faint traces of the other six who need him to press on, and the hollow twinge of the two who need vengeance. The 31st is only fourteen days away; he can wait. He can–

The pressure of the sudden touch makes him jerk; coal-dark eyes snapping open, searching for the source. You’re standing above him, hand outstretched, the pad of your thumb delicately catching the long forgotten drip of blood against his cheek. 

“You shouldn’t touch that,” he says, voice gruff in the vacant emptiness of the space; but he doesn’t shift, meeting your frank gaze unblinkingly. 

“Oh?” you question, swiping the sullied digit across your pants, tacking the deep crimson into the material of your jeans.

“It’s poison,” Choso clarifies. The spot you’d stroked your thumb down is tingling. Exhaustion, he muses, itching his nails into the thick fabric of his loose pants. He’s imagining it; there’s no other explanation.

“You’re not going with the others?”

What? How can he? They’re dead. Ah, no. He’s not thinking clearly. You don’t mean his brothers; you mean Getō.

“No,” he quips, lifting the back of his hand to his cheek, wanting to quell that spreading warmth that you’ve left him with. 

“Then you don’t need this, right?” You gesture to the mess of game pieces and the forgotten board that is scattered across the low table in front of him. He shakes his head and you begin the steady process of tidying up, collecting the mismatched jumble into your arms, folding the rest into the tattered box before you step away. 

Choso closes his eyes again, steadying his breaths, finding the pulse of the blood that thrums within him. Nothing is out of place. So why does his cheek feel like it’s on fire? There’s no reason for it. Is he this starved for a connection that he’s latching onto the first interaction he receives? 

His onyx eyes follow you as you walk across the matted flooring. You own this space; have struck some kind of deal with Getō and the others, permitting them to come and go, quietly cleaning up their messes, and ducking out of sight when they gather within the confines of the darkness; talking through the plans, the ins and outs of the sealing and the massacre that they hope to spread throughout the underground station of the pre-ordained prefecture. 

In the grand scheme of things you’re nothing. Why waste energy focusing on you? It won’t matter in fourteen days.

The clink of the cup on the table rattles him out of his thoughts and Choso peers into the depths of your clear gaze once more. “What is it?” he queries, running a broad hand down his face, hoping the pull will make him forget the persistent warmth that’s radiating from the spot you’d touched. 

“You look tired. Drink that and get some rest.”

“Giving orders now?”

“Sure,” you grin, cocking your head at Choso’s curled lips and wrinkled nose. “That’s a good one. Like any of you would ever listen to me.”

What’s this called? Self deprecating humor? Well, whatever it is, Choso doesn’t enjoy the brittle tone your voice has drifted into. It doesn’t suit you and that low annoyance that’s been brewing under his skin is coming closer and closer to the surface. His fingers are on the cup before he can properly sort through his mismatched emotions, but he doesn’t miss the lift of your lips when he gulps the scalding tea down his throat. 

Why does he care? You don’t matter. You’re no one to him.

“Easy,” you tut, shaking your head at his sharp gaze. “You’ll burn yourself.”

So? He’d rather feel something burn than linger into the uneasy pull of an ache. 

Choso looks for you when he enters, shifting past the others. You’re tucked toward the back, brows creased and head down. It’s a smart move, but the frightened hunch you’ve adopted bothers him more than it used to.

“We have a few minutes,” Getō announces to the gathering, dark eyes bright as they fall on his impassive face. “And Mahito is always late.”

There’s an implication behind it, but Choso opts to ignore that uneasy instinct, already turning. He’s just going to ask you for tea; that’s all. When you spy him, you smile and that spot on his cheek flares, remembering the sweep of your thumb.

“Lucky you caught me,” you tell him, hands busy with the rattling cups. “I was about to go.”

He narrows his eyes, watching the curve of your neck, the stretch of your fingers, and the uneasy twitch of your shoulders. This sort of existence doesn’t suit you. You’re the antithesis of this; normal, kind, unabashedly human. So why do you… 

“Why do you let them––us, stay?”

You lift your head, blinking at his obsidian surveyance. “What am I supposed to do? Say no? Not like I put an advertisement on the door: seeking dangerous men and nefarious spirits, inquire within. I’m not wanting to die, you know? Besides, it’s not all bad.”

“Name one thing that’s not bad about this,” Choso demands, his tone clipped. 

Why? Why does he care? You’re not someone he can save. There’s no room for you. You aren’t family.

“Only one thing? Well, that’s easy,” you continue, the steady lull of your voice jerking him out of his musings. “You.”

Choso shakes his head, openly scowling at your answer. “Me?” he sputters, sucking his teeth and pressing his clenched fists into the long table that you stand behind. 

“Yeah,” you confirm, pouring the steaming water over the leaves, wafting the fragrant essence of the tea between his clenched jaw and your ducked head. 

“I don’t… that is...I...” Choso begins, but fumbles into silence when he catches sight of your eyes, half hidden behind the sweep of your lashes. It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. “You’re strange,” he finishes, huffing a belabored sigh between his pursed lips, but when you laugh he can’t help a faint smile. 

It will feel disloyal later, that burst of momentary happiness, but right now he doesn’t mind the distraction; cupping the yunomi between his palms, catching your fingers before they can pull away, enjoying the warmth you transude into his chilled hands. 

Nothing holds. Choso knows this better than most. All things, given time, change. It is an inevitability. Something he’s known intrinsically, and clung to, all those years; when the only constant was the beating of his brother’s hearts beside him. But change rarely announces itself, content in its own emergence; the omnipotence of its bite.

Something has shifted. 

“You didn’t go again?” You ask one night, sitting beside him, a cooling mug between your fingertips. 

“Didn’t see the need,” he tells you, an outstretched legs brushing against yours. 

“You’re different… you know that?” A smile hidden within your words. 

“So are you.” He likes that, he thinks. He likes it more than he should.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

You bite your lip and he watches the press of your teeth, hoping you’ll split the skin. 

“Come closer and I’ll tell you.” You bargain, coyly shaking your head.

“I’m close enough and I don’t like games,” he grumbles, hoping you won’t leave it at that, because while it’s true that he doesn’t like games, he’s enjoying this give and take. 

“Please?”

There’s something intoxicating about that gentle sound and he turns, wordlessly following your crooked finger. He towers over your seated form, but you don’t let that imbalance hang, hands tugging against the white of his shirt, urging him to kneel between your spread legs. When he settles, you curl your fingers against his jaw, smoothing that blistering heat over his icy skin until he’s pressing forward, resting his heavy forehead against yours. 

You’re so warm, he inwardly gasps, his breaths coming in pants. So warm he fears he might grow addicted to this heady intimacy. “What do you want?” Choso asks, the deep timbre of his voice quaking. 

“You.” It’s such a simple answer; how like you.

“I am here,” he replies, half drunk on the feel of your skin.

“Yes, but what if I told you I want more?”

That question casts him into the darkness. He’s unused to this; doesn’t know what to do, what to say; he’s been sealed for so long, too long, and he feels wobbly, lightheaded, but he tries to reach, his fingers grasping at the base of your neck, pulling you toward... toward…

The clatter of the front door startles you both, and he’s on his feet, eyes wild as they look down on your parted lips, and the furrowed confusion of your brow. Your hands are still upturned, waiting for his.

The others step into the space and when he blinks again you’re already gone; your chair vacant, the warmth you’d shared evaporating into the unfeeling cruelty of the chilled air. Shit, Choso curses, grinding his teeth.  

Something has shifted; it will be impossible to tear himself away from you now.

It’s only been a day, but he can’t stop staring at you. He doesn’t hide his blatant gaze, obsidian eyes tracking each step, hungrily snapping to yours each time you come near. You do nothing to lessen this itching want that’s raging within him, leaning close, pressing your hand against his shoulder as you gather the discarded cups that are scattered between them, asking him if there’s anything else he needs, your breath hot against his ear. 

He’s unsure if he likes this. 

But each time you shift away he wants to drag you back. 

When they leave, used to his excuses, and his protestations that as long as the mission doesn’t involve Itadori Yuji or Kugisaki Nobara he’s uninterested, he stands; head turning, searching for you. 

Ah. There you are. 

He’s against you in an instant, stiff hands cupping you, greedy to touch, to hold. You squirm, a laugh bubbling from your lips, swatting his wide palms from the tempting swell of your hips. “What’s gotten into you?” As if you don’t know.

“Tch,” he scolds, “you’ve been toying with me all evening. You said you wanted more yesterday, so show me.”

You breathe out a chuckle, bemused by his enthusiasm and take his hand in yours, leading him down a hallway. He’s never been back here, but he follows, trying to steady the thudding of his heart. Controlling his life’s blood is second nature to him, so why does this feel like it’s a losing battle? 

The room you open is dark, but he can make out the shape of a futon, stark against the mats, and his eyelids flutter, too overwhelmed by the realness of this befuddling situation to look. To distract himself, he pulls you against the slope of his chest, splaying his fingers against the sweep of your collarbone. You twist in his loose hold, folding your arms around his powerful neck.

“Do you still want this?”

Choso unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth, gulping down a wavering breath. “I already told you,” he begins, his voice gravel, “show me more. Show me what else you want to do with me.”

“Can I kiss you?” you inquire, dipping your head enticingly, catching his wandering attention, urging him nearer. He doesn’t answer, electing to tap his lips against yours, clumsily pressing until the tip of his nose digs into your cheek. It’s easy to feel your heartbeat like this, and he wraps his arms around your lower back, eliminating the meager distance that was trapped between your heaving chests. 

You let him steady himself, careful to keep your movements slow, but the squish of his face and the jerk of his hands tugs a bated humph of discomfort from you and he breaks away, elegant brows crumpled as he searches for the source of your discontent. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you amend, smiling at his obvious pout. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” Choso questions, stroking a palm up your spine, a smirk quirking the corner of his mouth when you draw in a gasp. 

You cup your hands beside his ears, fingers sinking into the dark tangles of his hair as you lure him back to your parted lips. “Open your mouth.”

He does as he’s told and you mold him against you, lapping your tongue over his, earning a shuddering moan and a sharp caress as he coils his hand around your throat. It’s easier this way and Choso steadily follows your lead, mimicking your sucks and teasing bites. Teeth clash when he reaches for more but he eases the sting with a flick of his tongue, and you nibble his lower lip in retaliation, pleased he’s so malleable. 

Your fingers fall to the sash that rests above his stomach and he grunts when you pull at it, easing it away with a stable unwinding. His breaths are heavy against your kiss shined lips, but he keeps perfecting his new found techniques, sweeping chapped skin until it’s worn smooth by the wetness of your tongue. His own hands are preoccupied with your neck and the gentle underside of your jaw, fingertips pressing until you can sense the pound of your heart within his grasp. 

“What are you trying to do?” you ask between his frantic presses. “It’s like you wanna match my pulse, or something.” 

“Worry about yourself,” he grouses, ill-pleased with your answering laugh. “It’s going to take forever if you go that slow.”

You shove your palms against his chest and he stumbles backwards, his booted feet loud against the heavy mats, dark eyes flashing up at yours as his face falls into a deep-seated glower. “What?! What was... why did you…”

His angry retorts melt into nothingness when you fling your shirt over your head, sending the thin fabric fluttering to the ground. The sudden exposure leaves him gaping, unsure of himself once more, but you ease the shock, grasping his limp hand in yours, guiding it over the dip of your stomach, and up the flow of your side. 

“Let’s play fair, huh?” you tease, tapping a kiss to his cheek, careful to land it in the same spot your thumb had touched weeks ago. Choso nods, obsidian eyes wide as his fingers trace over your goose-prickled skin. “Alright, well, it’s your turn.” 

His gaze snaps back to yours, whisking over your face; as if he’s searching for some kind of answer in the lift of your nose, or the plushness of your lips. Whatever it is, he seems to have found it because he ducks his head to yours, resting his brow against the crown of your temple, hands lifting to his own clothing, making quick work of the intricate knots and folds of the fabric.

The gleam of his skin in the moonlight takes your breath away, and you reach for him as he eases the black off of the white, sliding your warmth over the coldness of his bared pectorals. He’s smooth; skin as soft as freshly cleaved talc, or a scattering of downy feathers, and you keep stroking until he’s shaking under your touch, his exhales unsteady against your face. 

“I think I have more blemishes on my fingers and arms than you do on your entire body. You’re so soft,” you tell him, tracing an outspread hand against his muscled abdomen. 

“I’m... this is a new manifestation,” he answers, hoping the strangeness of him, of his half human, half cursed being, won’t drive you away. 

“Hmm,” you nod, pulling him down for another kiss. “It feels nice.”

He’s slow to undress. Not because he doesn’t want to see more of you, he’s simply distracted, too focused on touching what bits of you are revealed; the arc of your hips, the tipped buds of your breasts, and the line of your legs. But you’re like water; slipping through the gaps of his fingers, leaving him wanting, unsatisfied with his fragile hold.

When the last scrap of clothing is off, he waits, his cheeks flushed and mouth dry. “Now what?”

“Do you want me to touch you first?” you ask, that tantalizing smile lifting your lips. 

“No,” he asserts, shaking his dark head. “I want to learn you before that...so show me.”

“You’re very unusual.” Tilting your head as you take his hand, leading him to your futon. “You know that?” you continue, tumbling him over you as you splay across the crisp sheets. 

“Says the woman who is letting me between her legs,” Choso smarts, finding your lips in the gathering darkness. “Stop stalling; show me.”

With a pleased sigh, you reach for his hand again, looping your fingers around his as you guide him to the juncture of your thighs. You work one away from the others, gliding it along the ridges of your folds, showing him how you like to be touched. After his initial gawping and mystified rumblings of, ‘so wet,’ and half croaked, ‘fucks,’ he shifts closer, easing onto his haunches as he curiously follows your lessons.

“There,” he hisses, onyx gaze catching your twitching stomach and jerking hips. “Teach me how to do that.”

You work him to that apex, using your other hand to lift the slippery hood of your clit, showing him how to press and tap against the spongy nub. He’s a quick learner, his eyes falling from yours to watch the flutter and quaver of your cunt. 

“Move your hand,” he tells you, resting his lips against the hollow of your neck, his tongue lapping over your pulse. When you untwine your fingers from his he waits, lips too busy sucking a bruise into your skin; reaching for that unsteady thump of your heart. 

Bump-bump-ba-bump.

Yes. This will do. He’s caught the rhythm; can almost sense the flow of your blood, and see the surge of your clit under his touch.   

The next frig of his digit has you gasping out his name, legs unfurling, knees shaking beside his ribs, your head flopping back onto the futon with a dull thump as you arch into his hold. Choso reapplies the pressure, adding the pad of his thumb, leaving it opposite his seeking forefinger, squeezing until you’re clawing your blunt nails down the sheets. 

“You look good like this,” he smirks, looming over your heaving figure, licking his wet tongue along the valley of your breasts. “What else can you show me?”

Your fingers’ grip into his hair and you yank him from you, one brow delicately arched as you take in his irascible scowl. “You could put your mouth to better use…”

There’s no need to elaborate, and he’s wedged between your thighs before you can fully blink, ravenous lips slurping kisses and bites into the tender skin; he’s asking another question, but you can’t hear when he’s touching you like that, his fingers doggedly pressing at your clit, jerking more moans from your throat. 

“Wh-what?” you ask, breath stolen before it’s past your quivering mouth.

“I said,” Choso pants, lifting his inky head and fixing you with a dazed stare. “I can feel your heartbeat.” 

“Does that matter?” you laugh, popping onto your elbows to regard him inquisitively. 

“It helps,” he answers cryptically and you jab your toes against his arm.

“Helps with what?”

“You’ll see. Do you care if I experiment?” He lifts his fingers from you, sucking the dripping pads into his mouth as he waits for your answer.

“Knock yourself out,” you gape, biting your lip between your teeth.

His dark eyes glaze before he averts them, an appreciative smile gentling his sharp features. “Good,” he replies, easing one bent leg over his broad shoulder, sparing you a last glance before sealing his lips to your throbbing folds.

It starts slowly; a deep shudder that seems to radiate from your core before pooling against your extremities, making your fingers twitch and your muscles spasm incrementally. But Choso is mindful of the power that he’s found, and he eases you onto his tongue, helping you to relax with steady sucks, avoiding that all important button that is distending above his nose. He can almost hear the rush of your blood, can sense where to press with each swell of your slick folds, and he follows unquestionably; pleased he can lose himself in this, in you.

He taps his thumb against your entrance, eyes opening, searching over the curve of your breasts to see you, to watch what kind of expression you’ll make when he finally breaches this boundary. The sheer heat of you takes him aback, and he groans, his low voice vibrating over your twitching cunt, and you reward his elation with another moan, his name falling from your lips. 

What is this? 

He’s drowning and all he’s done is taste you. Will he die if this goes further? Or will it burn? Lapping away the remnants of his regret until there’s nothing left of him but splintered bone. 

“Choso,” you breathe, fingers latching into his wayward hair. “More, please… it’s not enough.”

He rotates his thumb before easing it out, making room for the wide push of his index finger, tongue lifting to swirl around the pulsing nub of your clit, and teeth grazing until you’re squirming.

“There!” you cry out, bucking into his open mouth. “Oh, god… I... I can’t––”

Something inside you shudders. He can feel it in the comforting thump of your heart and it makes him clutch you to him, his own hips rutting against the edge of the futon as he finds himself awash in the sheer intoxication of you. 

Fuck. Is it supposed to feel like this? Like he’s half himself and half you? Or is he simply drunk on the rush of your blood?

Your cunt sucks his finger deeper, gummy walls pulsing in time with your heart as he gulps down your essence, tongue greedily catching it before it has time to drip onto his upturned wrist. It’s good. It tastes so fucking good. 

He’s so winded by the sensations that he barely notices you pulling from him, his dark head lolling over the crinkled sheets, an inaudible moan slipping between his clenched teeth. Choso doesn’t resist when you ease him upward, warm fingers tracing up his heaving body as you press him onto his back. Only when you press a kiss to his fevered temple does he find himself, eyes bleary in the darkness.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, straddling his hips, your hand reaching for his straining cock, palming some of the leaking pre-cum over your fingers as you stroke him. “I can’t wait… I want you… can I? Choso?” 

This part will burn, he thinks, helping you to hold yourself steady, eyes slipping closed when he feels the slick heat of you gliding teasingly over his tip. When you sink down, his back arches, and he hopes that the whispering shadows, the lingering remnants of his guilt, will be tossed onto this fire you’re stoking. Your hips still when they reach his base, legs twitching around him, your nails catching against his smooth skin, working nicks into the clean slate. 

You’re clutching onto him like he’s the only thing tethering you down, and he opens his shuttered eyes to watch, hoping he can glimpse you past the smoldering of his want. You’re beautiful, he thinks, hand lifting from your hips to fiddle with the necklace that sits around your neck, admiring the glint of metal in the gloom. 

He wishes he could see more, that he could wait a little longer, but he wants to put an end to this ache; he wants to burn.

The lift of your knees leaves both of you gasping, and Choso stifles a moan, legs tensing restlessly under the steady push and pull you’re establishing over him. It’s so warm inside you, and he can feel the thrum of your blood again, so he tries to match his to yours, controlling his pulse, right down to the multiplicity of his cells, eager to feel that potent tug of release once more. 

“Does it feel good?” you ask, leaning back so he can admire his engorged cock as it plunges in and out of your sodden pussy. 

“Do you have to ask?” he grunts, lifting a hand to your breast, tweaking the tender bud of your peaked nipple between the knuckles of his fingers. 

When you call out his name again, he snatches you to him, dragging you to his parted lips as he digs his heels into the futon, rutting into you until you’re squelching lewdly around his pistoning cock. The world feels like it’s narrowing; the shadows lessening as he engulfs himself in you, his teeth working bruises into your neck, your shoulder, the tops of your breasts, anywhere he can reach; but it’s not enough. 

With a huffed groan he’s gathering you into his arms, robust thighs helping him to flip you onto your back, hands splitting your legs as he drives himself back into your welcoming heat. It’s deeper in this position. He can feel more of your twitches and pulsations as he steadies his arms beside your ears, bracing himself over your prostrate form. 

“You want me to touch you again, don’t you?” he asks, voice broken. “Do you want me to touch your clit? Will that make you cum for me? Will it?”

“I-I can do it,” you gasp, easing your fingers between your grinding bodies, knees spreading so he can watch. “Tell me when,” you murmur, head dropping as you arch, slipping him further.

“Now,” he moans, grabbing your jaw, forcing your lips to his as he slams his cock into you, setting himself alight; easing the incessant tug of his guilt until it’s a blunted thrum resting close to his heart. 

When you shatter around him, he follows, wholly caught in the ebb and flow of his release; lost in the depths of this unsteady solution.

He stays with you through the night, eyes following the line of your body as you sleep. His hands are cold, he thinks, easing them beside you, but not for much longer. 

The 31st is only four days away.

“Did he question you? Ask you for anything?” Getō’s words are lanced with care, his voice honey sweet as he steeples his fingers, peering at you with an avariciousness that makes you shake.

“He didn’t. I doubt it will happen again. I didn’t...I don’t want to...to… hurt––”

“What? Hurt him? He’s a half-breed monster. His feelings don’t come into this. Nor should yours; you have a family to think of, a mother who’s an invalid, a younger brother who can’t be depended upon, a father who’s a drunkard; too far gone to notice, or care, his eldest is missing; hasn’t attended her college classes in weeks... and your sister. Well, she’s still a child... much too young to suffer from your mistakes, don’t you think?”

“You’re the monster,” you grit, hands folded into your lap, nails pressing until blood wells under your fingertips. 

“Perhaps,” he smiles. “We’ll be out of your way soon enough. Let me know if you show any signs of impregnation, would you? Any spawn you whelp will be useful; very useful indeed.”

notes: i was gonna name this something else, and i know the dates i am describing don’t match with the sabbat, but Beltane felt like a smoother fit. 

[mandoalorian]

sensational

Maxwell Lord x F!Reader

Summary: Maxwell is away on a business trip for work, and you’re missing him more than you anticipated.

Word count: 2,2k

Warnings: 18+ smut; guided masturbation, male masturbation, female masturbation, light degradation, edging, orgasm denial, phone sex, long distance after care 🥺

Authors note: I’ve missed writing. So here’s a little something for Maxie cuz I’ve missed him too :( <3

Maxwell had only been gone sixteen hours. He left at 6am, and it was currently: you rolled over to check the time on your bedside alarm clock. 10pm. You frowned, pulling the crushed velveteen blankets up to your chin. He was probably fast asleep now anyway— after the flight and a long day proposing business scheme after business scheme.

You missed him a lot. He promised to call you every morning and every night, so long as he wasn’t swamped at the office. That was his promise and truthfully, you thought you’d be okay. He was only due to be away for a week. You knew a lot of other long-distance couples had it much worse. But being alone in his big suburban house was more isolating than you had ever even considered. It felt empty without him, and it didn’t feel like home anymore.

At least tomorrow you’d get to see Alistair, so that was a plus. You mentally groaned as you remembered how you were going to have to visit Maxwell’s ex-wife in order to pick up his son. She didn’t seem to like you all that too much, and to be honest, you could probably do without the chore of visiting her every Tuesday evening and putting up with her crap. It would be okay though. Alistair was worth it.

Your mind wandered back to your boyfriend. Your smart, handsome and powerful boyfriend with the honey coloured hair and chocolate brown eyes. He was always soft and warm— and a fantastic lover. Not only he was an excellent businessman, but he was also a brilliant father and a wonderful partner. He really was the perfect man for you.

You smiled wickedly to yourself as you remembered last night, and the antics you had both gotten up to before he had to leave in the morning. It was a long, passionate night. Your fingers ghosted over the love bites and bruises that were peppered across your neck and collarbones, and you gasped at the memory, a familiar heat rushing down your body.

If only he was here now… you two could’ve done it all over again.

Your glazed eyes flicked up to the telephone that was on your bedside table. You must’ve been staring at it for a good few minutes, contemplating things. Maxwell had scrawled the number to his hotel room down on a card before he’d left… just in case of an emergency.

You dipped your hand down to your cunt and felt your breathing hitch as you gathered all your slick on your fingers. You hadn’t realised just how wet you’d become.

Just call him. The devil on your shoulder urged. If he was sleeping, you certainly didn’t want to wake him but… surely there was no harm in an innocent goodnight call. At least then, you could hear his warm voice and his articulate words.

Maxwell Lord had you whipped.

Sighing, you took the phone from the hook and dialled his number. He answered on the first two rings.

“Hey honey,” he had a tired lilt to his voice, but just the depth and richness of his tone was enough to set a blaze in your tummy. “I was just about to go to bed,” he continued. “It’s late. Why are you still up?”

Yes, his voice was giving you everything you had desired, and more.

You swallowed thickly, your finger tracing lazy circles over your clit. “Mm couldn’t sleep. Was thinkin’ bout you.” you revealed, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. If you could get off to his voice alone, without having him notice what you were doing, that would be perfect. If he did catch on that you were touching yourself without his permission though… that would be a different story. “Miss you.” you exhaled, your eyes snapping shut.

“I miss you too sweetheart,” Max sighed, and you could faintly hear him shuffle around in his bed, the sheets making a fuzzy noise on the other end of the line. “What— what were you thinking about?”

The question was a trap. You knew Max all too well. He was right to have his suspicions.

You didn’t even bother opening your eyes, and you tried to repress a longing whine as your finger involuntary picked up speed, like some kind of reflex reaction to his question. “S-stuff,” you stammered out when you felt your fingers begin to dampen and slip between your folds. But ‘S-stuff’ was hardly going to be good enough for Maxwell. You dipped two fingers inside you, surprised at how well they were stretching you. “Mm— Max, miss— I miss—“

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, already close to pushing your first climax out.

“Princess?” Max asked. “You there?”

Your response was delayed but was followed by a stifled moan that wasn’t lost on Max whatsoever. “Need you.” you gasped out, dropping the phone to your pillow by your head so you could use your other hand to rub yourself.

The friction of your digits rubbing against that sweet spot and the way your index finger and middle finger curled up inside of you was too much. You could feel yourself coming undone.

“Oh,” Max omitted knowingly, unable to contain the small smirk that was crossing his lips. “Oh baby.”

He felt his cock twitch from the faint little whimpers you were making, and he slid his hand under the waistband of his light grey sweats, freeing his already semi-hard erection.

“Tell me princess,” Max hummed. “What ‘stuff’ were you thinking about?”

Fuck. You wanted to curse. He knew. He clearly knew you were touching yourself to the sound of his voice; probably thinking you were needy and desperate. But you were. You really were and you’d give anything just to feel his hands on you right now.

“S-so much,” you answered, trying your hardest to collect your thoughts for him. “Undressing me. Caressing me. Mm, you playing with my tits like you always do. Kissing them— sucking them. Biting…” you reluctantly pulled your finger from your clit and began to palm at your breasts. “Come home.”

The two words were practically begging him. You ached for him. Your entire body was burning with arousal and you needed him more than you’d ever needed anyone before.

You knew it was a stupid request; and that he couldn’t just ‘come home’. But if you could have one wish— it would be for him to be on top of you right now, smothering you with kisses and whispering dirty little words into your ears.

“M-Max?” your voice was broken as you continued curling your fingers inside of you.

His fingers were wrapped around his own length now, pumping it as he imagined you sprawled out, naked on his king-sized bed. The grey sweats and white shirt had been long discarded onto the floor.

“I’m right here baby,” he assured, gathering the beads of milky white precum and rubbing it up and down his cock. “I’m here. Why— why don’t you take my pillow and grind your pretty pussy over it hm? I know you can get off like that, you dirty girl.”

Another uncontrollable whine omitted from your lips at his light degradation. You followed his orders, knowing better than to disobey. Taking his pillow, you got on your knees and positioned it in between your legs, holding the phone to your ear as you began to thrust your hips.

You imagined it be his lap. You’d rubbed yourself over his thighs plenty of times, making a mess of his designer pants and creating stains not even the drycleaner’s could remove. His pillow still vaguely smelt of his apple scented shampoo and it only spurred you on even more.

“I bet you look so pretty right now,” Maxwell grunted. “My pretty girl. What are you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure rifed through your veins. “I’m your pretty girl.” you confirmed, feeling your cheeks heat up when Max chuckled.

It was a sensation overload— and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last. Maxwell knew too, judging by the way your moans picked up and became jagged. “God— Ma-Mmm—Max,” your thoughts were fuzzy and jumbled as you increased your pace. You wanted to feel something inside of you again. Your fingers or a dildo or— something, anything. But you weren’t even sure if you’d get the chance. “I’m so close,” you warned. “Gonna— gonna cum—“

“No,” Max said darkly, his voice having lowered an octave. “Roll on your back princess, and pull the pillow off you.”

You wanted to cry. You knew he always liked to play these games.

“B—but,” you choked out, wanting to finish and reach your orgasm.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

He was using that scary business voice. The one you often overheard when he was on the phone with partners or associates. Reluctantly you pulled the pillow away from your weeping cunt put it back in its place.

“O-okay,” you mused, wiping the tears that had pricked at the corner of your eyes as you changed position and got comfortable on your back, just like he’d instructed.

“I wish I was with you sweetheart, wish I could fuck your little pussy. How wet are you?”

“Very.” you replied exasperated, desperately waiting for him to let you touch yourself again.

“Show me,” Maxwell smiled wickedly. “Move the phone in between your legs and finger yourself. I want to hear you.”

You frantically followed his instruction and inserted your two fingers inside of you, pushing them deep and curling them upwards so they hit that hot, spongey sweet spot. Your legs were shaking and your back was arched over top of the satin sheets as you panted your boyfriend’s name.

Max was more than thrilled to hear the squelching wet noise that echoed throughout the comfort of yours and his shared bedroom, with every thrust and curl of your fingers. It felt good but… it just wasn’t him.

Now his own broken gasps were audible. You loved to hear him. He always got loud when he was close. That’s how you knew he was about to finish. “So— so good. Sweetest cunt in the whole fuck—fucking world. When I come home I— gonna fuck you so hard.” he promised in between shaky breaths.

Your lips curled into a grin and you arched your back as your slick dipped down the softness of your inner thighs. After all the edging and over stimulation, there was no way you were going to last. This was exactly what you wanted; Max may not have been physically there but his voice alone had always worked wonders.

“Can we— can we cum togeth—“ your request was fuzzled by the way you buried your head into your pillow, feeling a warm flush of heat race to your core.

“Yes,” Max cut you off impatiently. “Are you close?”

“Y-yeah, I don’t think I can hold it—“

“You can baby, you can. I’m going to count down from three and we’ll cum together. Okay?”

You were a screaming sweating mess at this point, and his countdown couldn’t have felt any slower. Three seconds felt like three years as you mustered all your will to obey him.

“Three, two, one—“

He didn’t even say zero. The countdown was followed by a long groan falling from his lips as his milky white seed spilt all over his fist and his tummy. His cry pushed you over the edge and you released your own climax, spasming and shaking on his side of the bed.

You curled up under his sheets, still shaky, and pulled the phone back to your ear. “Hi,” you whispered sheepishly. “That was good.” you bit down on your lip, smiling to yourself. Your own voice was a little hoarse from all the moaning and whimpering.

“Yeah,” Max agreed, smiling himself. “Are you okay?”

“I’m tired,” you admitted with a huff, relishing in his cologne scented blankets.

“Wish I was there to clean you up,” Max sighed, and for a split second, he pondered the consequences of catching the next flight home.

He always took care of you after sex, paying a meticulous amount of detail to how you acted after your moments of shared intimacy. He’d fetch you water and wipe away any mess with a warm wash cloth. Sometimes he’d even help you into some cozy pyjamas or one of his shirts.

“I can go clean myself up, don’t worry about me,” you hummed in contentment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m perfect baby,” he grinned “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“I can let you go—“

“No,” you cut him off, clutching onto the phone not wanting him to leave. Yeah you’d missed the amazing sex but truthfully, you’d missed him the most. “Can we uhm, can we just stay here on the phone together? Fall asleep together? I— I want you to be there when you wake up.”

Max hesitated for a moment, but he didn’t see a problem with your request. In fact, he thought it was a wonderful idea.

“Yeah, of course honey,” he replied softly. “I’m gonna go wipe myself down. You should do the same.”

“O-okay,” you sniffed. “I love you. I won’t be long.”

When you returned, Max was already waiting for you. “Princess?” he called, when he heard you shuffle back into bed.

“Hiya,” you giggled, rubbing your eyes. “I’m sleepy.” you admitted, your statement followed by a yawn.

Max chuckled. “Has my girl worn herself out?”

You laughed and nodded your head. “Yeah.”

“Okay sweetheart, let’s go sleep.” Max hummed, resting the phone by his pillow and closing his eyes.

“Okay, good night Maxie.” you mused softly.

“Good night honey.” He returned, before you both fell asleep.

——————

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[todoscript]

Work of Art

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader genre: smut. word count: 3.6k+ warnings: 18+. shibari. bondage. submissive bakugou. dominant reader. begging. praising. bakugou being a little bit of a brat?

anonymous requested: okay but what abt.. submissive bakugo👉👈 him being all bratty and shuts up when you deny him—

author’s note: ohhh boyyyy... submissive bakugou really got me writing more than 3k’s worth of filth haha, but i hope you enjoy! shoutout to my gals, rosie ( @shoutogepi​ ) & val ( @shoutodoki​ ) for indulging with me during our talks about sub bnha boys

“Hmm, I don’t see why you’re so against this,” your voice sounds out, and Bakugou immediately perceives the saccharine dripping upon every word, a lilt of a smile dancing on your colored lips, painted in a vivid rosy red pigment that only enhances your seduction. Despite how sweet you sound, he knows that underneath that layer of sugar lies a venom waiting to intoxicate him—ensnare his reasoning and leave him utterly vulnerable to your mischief. As in this moment, you embody every characteristic akin to a vixen, enveloped in the lacy fabric of your black lingerie.

Bakugou sits before you bound to a chair with an intricate network of cordage twined across his naked skin. The patterns and shapes knotted together contrast stunningly against his expanse of hard muscle—reminiscent of paint on canvas. And you tonight are the artist.

“You look so pretty, like a beautiful piece of art…” you say languidly. Each syllable uttered is drawn out in alluring breaths that somehow makes him feel hazy. He grits his teeth at how much that extra flair in your voice affects him, eyebrows narrowing tightly as he fidgets in his seat. His arms and wrists ache from just a simple wriggle, your meticulous work granting him no chance to get free.

“Ah-ah, you’re not gonna get out of this one,” you tease. Right as he opens his mouth for a snappy retort, the words are swooped from under him when your hands begin to trace his naked skin—starting from his thigh, up to his abs, and then landing to his chest, where you make a point to taunt him by dancing your fingertips there before bending down to meet his eyes. Your ruby red lips curve impishly at what you reduced him to. “You can try as much as you like, but I’ve tied the ropes this way so you can’t get free~ Don’t want you to spoil the fun after all,” you sing. Fully aware of your boyfriend’s strength built upon many years of arduous hero training alongside that powerful quirk of his, you made sure Pro Hero Ground Zero would not turn the tables on you in his haste for pleasure tonight.

Thus, his usual brash exterior dwindles in the face of your ministrations when you play with the rope a bit more. When he notices your eyes descend to his angry red cock that stands firm amid the knotwork surrounding it, his impatience builds. Bakugou wets his lips, finally ushering some words out from his dry throat.

“Fuck… Stop stalling already…” he tells you, voice borderline on a plea, but his remaining pride pushes the inflection back in hopes it resembles even a lick of his regular gruff tone. Your hums in reply don’t entail much, other than the fact you’re still prolonging his needs.

“Stalling? Who said I was stalling?” You feign ignorance before deciding to take a seat on him, straddling his thighs. “I just want to admire my work of art a bit more… I did a pretty good job—” your hand suddenly comes to his cock, fingers coaxing its hardness that makes his breath hitch, “don’t you think?”

For once, Bakugou’s scrounging for words at the sudden contact. He’s not used to being so speechless when it comes to passion in the bedroom with you. If anything—moaning and yelling aside—he regards himself the more vocal one between the two of you, his dirty talk and crude language a routine he always enacted to get you hot, bothered, and oh so ready for him. However, the shibari ropes braided across his body press a button that spurs him to be so… submissive.

God, him and “submissive” do not belong in the same sentence.

He thinks this, and yet the aesthetic arrangement on his skin emphasizes his sensuality and vulnerability, and it somehow makes arousal wholly envelop his cock.

“Well?” You bring him back to the situation at hand by thumbing over the slit of his length, slick with his pre-cum. The touch causes a groan to slip past his lips. “I asked you a question, Katsuki.” You stroke his length up and down for every word, stopping right at the end and leaving his cock weeping for more of your touch, strained by the rope.

“Ah, f-fuck—” He internally curses himself for the stutter. Glancing at you, he heeds the smirk that still hangs proudly on your red lips.

Boy, does he itch to wipe it off your face with bruising kisses and have wanton moans singing from them when he pounds you into the bed. To his dismay, however, that itch remains unreachable thanks to your painstakingly elaborate composition. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, this shibari shit you performed on him was executed with great attention to detail for him to be left so aroused and unable to break free in this damn chair. But would he ever say this to you out loud? Hell no. So he settles for defiance instead.

Bakugou looks you straight in the eye with a smug expression plastered on his face. “Hah, is this supposed to impress me? Seems like a bunch of amateur work to me, babe,” he scoffs boldly, earning a raised brow from you at his attitude despite the position he’s in. Perhaps he needs a reminder that no matter how much he squirms, he isn’t getting a sliver of authority tonight.

“Is that so?” You jab, finger looping around the cordage tied across his collarbones to pull him forward in his chair. His face is so close to yours; he can feel your breath on his lips and smell the enticing fragrance of your perfume. It’s an off-beat mix of rose and jasmine that gets his blood pumping from just a whiff. “I don’t think you truly understand the position you’re in right now, Suki,” you muse sensually, lips tugging back into a smirk that has him second-guessing his actions, “I just need to remind you then.”

At that, your hand immediately falls to his cock, stout and weepy with pre-cum, capturing Bakugou’s attention. He groans wantonly while you stroke it. Dropping to your knees, you watch as your ministrations evoke bliss into his cock from below. You can tell without even glancing at him that he’s biting his tongue to suppress his obscene noises. However, the increasing volume in his voice betrays him.

“Agh, fucking goddd—” he drawls beneath his breath when you decide to pick up the pace with your hand, applying the right amount of pressure that had his walls slowly cracking in front of you. The strain on his body from the ropes heightens his lust. Bakugou tugs on the restraints in the fit of pleasure building inside him.

“Hm well look at that. You were so bold before, but now look at you—” Your other hand goes to fondle his balls, the extra sensation making him buck in his seat, “a hard, aching mess at my touch, isn’t that right?”

“Ugh, if you—fuck—think I’m going to give in— Haaahhh...” His words are a jumbled mess. Bakugou leans against his seat, tossing his head back while involuntarily rocking his hips into your hand.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you over your moaning and groaning,” you mock, watching his brows knit together at the lust consuming his being. His panting comes out ragged while he gasps for air, thighs flexing at the fire coursing through his body that teeters on a tightrope. However, before he can reach his high, the sensations are ripped away when you quickly remove your digits from him, recognizing his imminent release.

Bakugou shoots his eyes open. A sharp shift in his seat has the chair’s legs scraping against the floor. “What the hell?!” he growls, practically snarling the words out. There’s a wave of anger heard in his tone that you don’t take a liking to. You wag your finger.

“That’s no way to talk, Katsuki.”

“I don’t give a fuck! I was so damn close to cumming! Why the hell did you stop?!” Bakugou yells vehemently with a pierce in his red eyes. You run your hands on his thighs as you lean up to return the look.

“Y’know if you’re going to act like this—act like a brat—I might as well just leave you here and not let you cum at all tonight, hm?” you threaten, and the notion brings his temper to an immediate silence. The idea of you keeping him bound to this chair while his cock cries for release is enough to diminish his poise. He sinks in his seat submissively when you inch closer, eyeing the bright red of your painted lips that curls salaciously with each word you utter to him.

“But if you behave, sit here obediently, and continue looking all pretty for me, I might let you cum. How’s that sound?” you offer.

He bites his lip. It’s like he’s making a deal with a succubus right now, that damn voice of yours coaxing him.

“F-Fine…” he manages to answer. You smile at his compliance before placing a kiss on his cheek. You’re granted a glimpse of the faint, red imprint left on his skin thanks to your lipstick when you detach from him. Almost as if you’ve marked him as yours.

“Good boy.” The praise sends a shiver down his spine as you whisper it into his ear. He watches you descend onto your knees again, gazing at his cock like you’re about to pounce. And god, does he wish you would just do it already, but instead, you choose to prolong him some more and glance at him.

“Now… what do you want me to do to you?”

Really? Did you have to ask this? Bakugou furrows his brows at how you play cloy. “Argh, you already know—”

“I want to hear it from you though,” you interject, leaning forward and running a finger along a prominent vein on the side. His pretty cock twitches at your touch. “Use your words and tell me all the things you want me to do to you, ’Suki.”

Before he can bite his tongue, his mind is already one step ahead of him, blurting out his thoughts shamelessly. “God, I want to be in your mouth. I want you to suck my dick and let me cum in your throat. And then I want you to get up here, ride me to oblivion, and let me paint your pussy so fucking white. Please please please—” He adds in his pleas for good measure, the desire to climax overpowering his pride in the heat of the moment that feeds your ego.

The word “please” has never sounded so dulcet coming out of that usually vulgar mouth of his. Who knew Bakugou Katsuki was capable of begging so well? It’d be an absolute shame not to reward him for his good behavior.

You lick your lips. “There, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Then you begin acting on his wishes, your tongue making contact with his hard cock, gradually running up the side until you reach the head. Swirling against the tip causes a growl to bellow from his throat, jerking forward when you wrap your lips around the entire head. He watches with lidded eyes as your lipstick begins smearing across his dick, sucking him in like that.

His moans sound frenzied the more his cock inches into your warm cavern. The sounds encourage you to eagerly bob your head up and down his length with your spit collecting in the back of your throat. You adore the way his cock feels in your mouth, so heavy and thick, and especially love the fact that your controlled pace has your man reeling with pleasure, finally letting his unabashed whimpers out. You savor every little sound like it’s your favorite song on repeat, which it might as well be from how slick gathers at your cunt listening to them.

“Shit! Baby, please don’t fucking stop!” he begs, head tossed behind him as you moan your response into his dick, picking up speed. Your hand pumps his shaft a few more times until you bring it down to your panties to move the material aside and rub your clit. The contact sends a tingle through your body that urges you to bottom his cock into your mouth. Feeling your wetness enveloping his cock gratifies every nerve in his body until it ultimately leaves him undone.

”Agh! Sh-Shit—!” he curses, his climax peaking as his white cum spurts inside your throat. You make sure to swallow every last drop, tasting his delicious cream on your tongue as you detach from him with a lewd pop.

Bakugou is still catching his breath by the time you happily wipe your mouth of your excess spit and any lingering drops of his delectable seed, his chest heaving in and out with the red rope flexing at his every movement. A haze clouds his vision from the intensity of his orgasm, but he’s at least able to see you standing before him—lipstick now messy but that mischief in your eyes persisting.

“Sukiiii~ You’re absolutely gorgeous like this—tied up, sweaty, and gasping for air just because of me,” you praise.

“B-Baby…” Bakugou’s tone somehow rings higher than usual. Your eyebrows perk up, the wetness at your core saturating through your panties hearing the shameless little whine.

“Kiss me… please…”

Well, since you asked so nicely…

You straddle his thighs and bring your lips to his own, letting him taste the bittersweetness of his cum from your tongues fervently melding against each other. Soon the makeout session comes to a halt with a quick peck on his lips. He peers into your glimmering expression with an insatiable need, struggling in his bonds as his cock hardens once more at your proximity—skin so warm against him. But your lingerie still obscures him from your real treasures. He wants to rip it off you already.

“Can I get out this damn thing yet?” he asks, quiet yet impatient. You shake your head.

“’Fraid not, Katsuki, I still need to ‘ride you to oblivion,’ remember?” you quote him.

Crap. He does. And surprisingly, there are no objections when you remind him. His silence amid your established authority doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you grin devilishly at how pliant he’s become throughout the night.

As if you’ve read his mind, your hand finds the clasp fastened on your back. “Since you’ve been such a good boy for me—” a simple flick of your wrist undoes the grip holding your bra together, “I’ll reward you for the rest of the night.” On cue, the skimpy garment glides down your shoulders.

Tossing the bra into the void of the bedroom, you can’t help the giggle that bubbles from your lips at Bakugou’s widened eyes aimed at your tits bared before him. He absentmindedly shifts in a vain attempt to lift his hands and grab your mounds, forgetting the rope bound on his arms behind his back prevents him from touching your soft, naked skin.

“Aw, you want to touch my tits?” you chide. Bakugou grunts in response, and you’re amused by the way he turns his head bashfully as if you miss the subtle blush dusting his cheeks. Such a cute little act.

Cupping your hand under his jaw brings his attention back to you. You nudge him so he faces you again, not allowing his eyes to gander anywhere else but on your own.

“I’ll let you do a little bit more than touch…” Your thumb lightly brushes his lower lip, pulling it down ever so slightly, and he realizes what you want him to do.

And boy, is he eager to abide by your desires.

Opening his mouth, he doesn’t hesitate to latch onto your right nipple immediately, tongue poking out around the bud. You hum in content at how passionately he licks and sucks, petting the back of his head and brushing your fingers through his soft blonde hair to encourage him along.

“Ooooh… That’s it Suki… You’re doing so well, sucking on my nipple like that,” you moan as Bakugou moves over to your left breast, giving its twin the same amount of attention. He groans between licks, flattening his tongue and drawing out the sound erotically against your skin. It spurs you to grind your clothed pussy on his erection, earning you his hisses between tugging your nub into his mouth.

In the meantime, your other hand, not caressing his locks, stumbles upon your wetness seeping past your intimates, practically soaking through onto his dick. A few strokes of your fingertips beneath your panties gathers your gossamer-like slick that interlaces your digits together in a web. You tear Bakugou off your bud to hover your glossy fingers in front of him. Right away, he begins diligently licking away at the slippery sheen, moans lewdly vibrating deep in his throat with each swipe of his tongue.

“How do I taste?”

“So fucking good. Shit, I want more,” he says. You grin, flattered by his enthusiasm to devour more of your essence. However, you’d have to put that on hold for another time.

“Hm, not tonight, I’m afraid. I need you inside me right this second.” Your words have pure anticipation sparking through his body. He stares attentively as you lift yourself over the head of his cock, aligning his length into your soaked hole, panties pushed to the side.

“Arghhh…” Bakugou hisses between gritted teeth when the first inch enters, fists clenched around nothing at how tightly you’re squeezing him. Your whimpers accompany him as you adjust to his well-endowed size, a pleasant burn seizing you. Heat sprouts in your abdomen the more you descend on Bakugou’s firm, aching cock, eventually bottoming out with a long sigh.

“Fucking hell, you’re so damn fucking tight—”

If your mouth feels good, then your pussy is practically heaven, inducing him in hot, tight bliss when you start bouncing up and down.

“Ah, Suki, your cock is so big… so hard…Mmph, I love how it fills me up!” you sing, arms wound around his neck, tits pressing against his chest. Having to sit back with nothing to leverage him amid your silky walls pressing around his cock, bursts of mini-explosions crackle in his palms. A musky scent of burnt caramel suddenly invades your senses, making your cunt clench tighter. Bakugou curses at how you hug his length.

“Fuck! Baby, I want you to ride my cock faster! Make me cum so damn hard that I feel it for weeks!”

Even when taking on a submissive role, Bakugou’s dirty talk never ceases to rile you up. You nod in reply, thighs flexed while your tempo on his cock increases to the point where it ensnares both of you in the throes of pleasure. Unable to do much except allow you to work yourself on and off him, he settles for leaning in and capturing your lips, which you respond to earnestly by parting your mouth to let your tongues dance again. A few particular hard drops later cause him to detach himself from you to groan out loudly.

The echo of your skins making firm contact against each other fogs his thoughts. His eyes are half-lidded when they gaze at you. You giggle at his expression—shrouded in pure bliss from his blanketed red eyes to his tongue peeking out of his lips. Caressing his jawline, you tilt his head up.

“Whose good boy are you?” you ask. It takes a second for him to answer.

“Y-Yours…”

You pry on, not letting up for even a second in your bouncing, “Who made you a pretty work of art tonight?”

“You! Fuck, you did!” he cries out, head tossed to the side that grants you access to the beautiful expanse of his neck. Your mouth finds his skin, kisses ascending until you reach the junction below his cut jawline as he continues reeling at the sensations building inside him.

“That’s right, Suki. So good, so obedient. I think it’s time I let you cum, yeah? Let you fill my little hole up with all your creamy white goodness…”

Your pace escalates quickly, not granting a relief of pause until you both begin arriving on the cusp of release.

“Fuckfuckfuck!! C-Cumming—!” Bakugou yells out, your grappling walls milking his twitching cock that surges into his climax. As promised, his cum coats your insides wholly white, stuffing you to the brim that has the heat inside you lurching. It’s right after the apex of his pleasure that your pussy spasms around him, body trembling, and toes curled as you peak into your high. He licks at your nipple arched in front of his face while your cries fill the space of the room.

By the time the two of you settle down in the aftermath of your euphorias, you’re both sweaty, panting messes. Bakugou more so as his head rests against your shoulder, allowing you to pet his hair between your fingers and comfort the tremors still racking through him.

“You did so so well, Katsuki. I’m very proud of you.” You lay a sweet kiss on his temple. Your praises manage to elicit a content hum from his lips while he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Before you can get up and remove the tight ropes still lining his upper body, Bakugou suddenly lifts his head and meets your eyes, a tired yet devious expression painted on his face.

“Next time, we should tie you up in these things.”

[suna-reversed]

the sweetest thing

MAFIA AU! USHIJIMA X FEM READER !!nsfw!!

warnings/tags- slight voyeurism, fingering, smut turned fluff

The mixed scent of alcohol and that one expensive cologne he always wore hit you like a ton of bricks. That’s all you forced yourself to focus on, but you found it quite a tough task as the strong lingering trail of your juices filled the air, two of his long digits pushing past your slick walls. Choking back on a moan, you gripped his wrist tightly, confused as to whether you wanted to pull his hand off of you or beg him to rub it against you harder. He stopped his ministrations as you did so, not because he got the hint, but just so he could make you look up into his stern eyes that conveyed exactly how much worse tonight would be for you if you didn’t let him continue. 

You don’t exactly know how you ended up here. In the backseat of a posh car owned by the most dangerous man amongst Japan’s underground mafia. Just a whisper of his name had even the most powerful of gang leaders shaking with fear. You were still conflicted about the fear, but he sure did have your legs shaking more and more with each thrust of his fingers. You had buried your face in his shoulder, hoping that the red-haired driver would simply believe that your closeness to the man he answered to was simply a gesture of affection and not a desperate attempt at muffling your moans. You seemed to fail at that task as the fingers inside you were pulled out, only to be placed at your sensitive nub instead, rubbing circles so hard and fast that you couldn’t contain the sudden moan that left your mouth. You came undone, hips bucking against the rings on his fingers as your mind drowned in both pleasure and shame.

You could barely breathe as you felt the car come to a stop in front of your college campus. Ushijima simply put your pushed aside panties back in place, bringing up his fingers to his mouth to suck off your juices, his intense gaze locked onto yours. You didn’t think your face could get any more flustered. 

“Let me walk you back to your dorm.” Not a question. 

A shiver went down your core for what you were in for. Your mind flashing back to the memory from barely less than an hour ago when Ushijima had you pressed up against a wall outside the venue of the banquet, his lips attached to yours, the taste of champagne and cigars still heavy on his tongue as it explored yours with a passion as deep as the mariana trench. 

Your train of thought was interrupted as you noticed he had already gotten out, waiting for you with an outstretched hand. Despite having just felt him so deep inside you, the gesture somehow managed to give you more butterflies. It felt different. somehow more intimate. His calloused fingers slowly wrapped around yours, his large hand encasing almost all of yours. It made you feel warm. protected. safe. The crimson blush that grew on your nose didn’t go unnoticed by him, and maybe that’s why he didn’t leave your hand even as you started walking. Looking back, you wondered how differently things would’ve turned out if you hadn’t tripped over that one particular chair leg that unfortunate day. 

-------------------

“I would rather eat glass than live this day all over again” you thought to yourself while recapping the events of the last 18 hours.

Your roommate had shown up drunk late at night, bruised up and beaten from a bar fight, barely giving you any time to sleep as you tended to them. Because of that, not only were you sleep deprived, but also super late to your morning classes. Plus, you were pretty sure you had managed to royally fuck up the exam you had in the afternoon. 

Wanting to unwind from the trainwreck of a day, you had stopped by your favourite cafe to grab a coffee. A headache seemed to be crawling up your head as you stood in line waiting for your order. You were so tired, you barely paid attention to your steps as you grabbed your order and went to leave. Instead, you felt time slow down as your foot got caught on the edge of a left out chair, your drink going flying onto the chest of the person who had been sitting on the opposite side. It took you a second to scramble up your feet, ready to apologise to whoever you had just sprayed with a high dose of caffeine. But as you looked up, you found yourself a little breathless staring into the olive brown orbs of a greek god of a man. A greek god whose face was raging with passive anger. The look immediately sent you into a ramble of apologies, your words of “I’m so sorry” and “I’ll pay for the ruined shirt” getting all jumbled over each other as you poorly tried to explain your own clumsiness. 

‘It’s alright. You don’t have to pay for anything.’ The deep rumble of his voice made your insides shiver. 

“Are you sure? I can get you a tissue-”

“It’s fine, I was leaving anyway.” 

A curt nod was all you received before the man turned his broad back to you, striding out with confidently. You found it weird that not even a single person turned their head to look at the man in a white shirt with a large brown stain stretched across it. You pushed that thought out to the side as a wave of tiredness hit you again. Relieved that the situation didn’t get messy, you walked back to your dorm for a much needed nap.

On the other hand, people who had known the identity of the menacing man gawked at you, wondering how you had walked just out the place without a bullet in you. 

----------------------

“Achoo!” 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, visibly shivering as the cold air hit you. You almost whined at the warmth of Ushijima’s hand being pulled out of yours. But then a much larger and warmer fabric was thrown over your shoulders, you could've melted right there at its softness. Gazing up at him from under your lashes, you muttered out a small thanks as you nuzzled further into the collar of his cozy coat. You could've sworn you heard him sucking in his breath. His hand slipped into yours again, tugging you closer. You walked in silence, your mind still clouded by all that had happened in the span of half a night. 

“Well, that’s my building.” you said. Looking over at Ushijima’s face, you found it glowing under the illumination of the lights coming from past the entry gates.

“ Thank you for accompanying me tonight y/n.”

“ Oh, it was no big deal really. Plus, I enjoyed it a lot. Thank you for inviting me.” 

He gave you a small smile as his hand left yours and he turned around, ready to leave,

“Wait! Aren’t you going to…” You trailed off as he turned back, raising an eyebrow at your puzzled face. 

Your face contorted in confusion, was he not going to join you in your dorm? Especially after the bulge you’re sure you felt while you had been grabbing onto his thighs for support in the car earlier. 

 “...come inside?” You finished, your voice small and hesitant. 

His lips twitched upwards almost playfully, 

“Was the perverse exposition in the car not enough for you?”

“No!- I mean yes, it was.” You found your voice getting smaller and smaller. “But um- don’t you...need anything?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he took two long strides towards you, your face now an inch away from his chest. You felt a finger lift your chin as he brought his head close to your ear to whisper,

“Not now- I want to take my time with you” His teeth grazed down as he mumbled onto the skin of your neck, “- to learn every inch of you.” 

A small moan escaped past your throat. Pulling away, his intense burning gaze faded as a smirk formed on his lips, 

“Besides, we wouldn’t want you to wake the whole building up with your screams now would we?” 

Your eyes widened at that, causing a small laugh out of him. That only resulted in you getting more flustered.

“Ok then, I guess I’ll see you soon Ushijima-san.” 

“Wakatoshi” 

“Huh?” 

“It’s Wakatoshi for you.” He said, adjusting the collar of his coat on you and then leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against your brow. 

You tried to ignore the deafening drumming of your heartbeat in your ears as you muttered out a “Goodnight Wakatoshi”, earning a pleased look from the man himself. 

“Goodnight y/n.” 

 Was he really as vicious and bloodthirsty as he was known to be? But then who was the man who had just now made you drown in an ocean of pleasure and then tender affection?��Walking away, you could only wonder of all that you were yet to receive from the dual faced man.

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N E ways, hardcore dom-sub rough sex in part two? ☉_☉

[knjoodles]

sallang; taehyung | 01

pairing: singlefather!taehyung x reader

genre: fluff

recommended song: come on get higher by matt nathanson

word count: 2K

warnings/author’s note: this first chapter is slightly suggestive. nothing that i’d consider smut-worthy, but a warning never hurts! i’m also starting this as a mini-series, with short chapters and an overall short story. glad to be back!

summary: handsome, intelligent, fashionably late: taehyung seems to be a total package, and you’re all for it. that is, until his rain-checks and delayed appearances become so frequent that you feel left in the dark. what could he possibly be hiding?

sallang - a word describing the manner of the wind blowing lightly.

lowercase intended

this is a major waste of my time is what you thought as you rhythmically tapped your fingers against the clothed wooden table of a local restaurant, your knee bouncing impatiently against the floor, your free hand holding your head, glancing around in pure boredom. with how much time you’d spent staring at the wall beside you, you’d probably noted every color its paint compiled. it was your first date with a man from tinder who you realized was way out of your league — and you began to fear that he realized it way before you did.

snaking your phone from your back pocket, leg still bouncing, a deep sigh escaping your lips, you opened his profile once again. “kim taehyung, twenty-five, huh?” you filed through his tab once again, mumbling as you read. “likes reading, going to the beach… do you like being late, too?” you hissed, “because, from the looks of it, its like you get off on—”

“excuse me?”  

your thoughts of innermost annoyance suddenly subsided at the sound of a deep, masculine voice from above you. your head darted upwards to find none other than kim taehyung standing in black slacks with a complementary white shirt to match, his chest rising and falling, almost like he’d run to your date. “are you (y/n)? i’m taehyung… from tinder?” his eyebrow pricked up as he finished his sentence, an embarrassed smile cracking across his face. you stared at him for a moment, taking in the man standing before you. (y/n)? upset at kim taehyung? never. seeing him in person, you’d almost completely forgotten you were irritated.  

“yeah, that’s me. have a seat,” you smiled awkwardly, chuckling softly. you watched as taehyung hooked his casual blazer, previously wrung lazily around his arm, onto his chair. he sat down quietly, moving his seat closer to the table, adjusting his glasses and jet black hair. a moment of silence fell between the two of you, taehyung picking up his menu to appear preoccupied in the dinner menu. you smiled to yourself, catching glimpses of his eyes blinking rapidly as he excitedly scanned the text, a habit that’d already made itself known. you began to notice how he’d glance up at you every so often, chewing his lip, flustered, almost as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words to do it.

“i’m sorry for being so late,” he admit, sighing. “i had something to take care of earlier, and it took a lot longer than i’d hoped,” he set his menu down, toying with its edge with his finger. “i...” he paused, “i apologize. i know it must’ve been inconvenient for you.” you took this moment to eye taehyung's hands, slender and dainty, his fingers long and adequate.  

you laughed at his slightly frantic tone. “it’s fine, don’t worry about it. you’re here now, right? let’s focus on that. you wanna tell me a little more about yourself, ot should i go first?” you assured, smiling comfortingly. “your bio only tells me so much.”

“uh, okay!” he nodded, resting his hands on the table. “well, i’m taehyung, i recently received my bachelor’s and i’m aiming for a phd in english, i don’t care for coffee all that much, i love pretty much all animals you can find, and… i’m 5’11".” he introduced himself with detail as he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, pulling them up to only reach past his elbows. “how about you?”

“oh, my turn?” you questioned, earning a giggle from the man facing you. “i guess it’s only fair. i’m (y/n), i’m pursuing law as of now, we can lay low on coffee if you’d like — i don’t really mind. i like going on simple dates, i love music recommendations, i love musicians, and i’m significantly shorter without these heels on.” you finished, content that either taehyung had a really bad sense of humor or that your finishing line made a better impression than you’d thought it ever could. 

“does this fulfill your requirement of a simple date?” taehyung inquired playfully, lightly patting the table.

“it does,” you replied, tone flirtatious. you noticed taehyung eyebrow raise and jaw tighten at your response as he cracked a smirk, entertained at the shift in energy. that look jumbled your insides, but there was no time for that. you expelled those thoughts from your mind as you cleared your throat, silently scolding yourself. your moment was interrupted by a waitress, the same one who’d pitifully watched you poke at the complimentary sourdough bread slices with an empty seat in front of you. offering to kindly take your menus and your orders, the two of you obliged. as she scurried away from your table, a notepad with messy handwriting scribbled across it dangling from her waist apron, you turned back to taehyung, whose eyes were glued to you, one of his hands caught in his hair as he ran a hand through it. “hey,” he muttered, his voice deep, his eyebrow habitually twitching upwards once more. was he trying to make you unravel in the middle of your date?

“oh my god,” you laughed, trying to shake off how flustered you were. “you can’t just do that and expect me to be okay!” you joked.

“do what?” he chuckled in return. “the deep voice? i can’t control that; it just happens sometimes,” he smiled at his lap, looking back up at you soon after. “you said you were interested in musicians?”

“i mean, it’s not a necessity, but yeah, i find musicians especially interesting.” you explained, reaching for your glass of cold water, ice half melted.  

“i don’t want to brag, but when i was in high school, i was in a band.” he grinned as your jaw dropped. your mind raced with thoughts of how flawless he was, from how well he dressed to how every secret of his made him ten times more attractive. “it was just seven of us, seven of my friends. some would rap, some would sing. i was a singer, and i was really invested in the group. after we all graduated, the group kind of fell out, but we’re all still friends. cool, huh? i would play a little bit of everything, from piano to guitar. more piano, though.” he added, tilting his glass of water towards you, his attractive grin infectious.  

“that’s crazy,” you gasped, leaning forward in your chair. “ever thought of getting the band back together? you’ve got the looks!”

“the looks?” he repeated, laughing excitedly. “you’re giving me too much credit here, (y/n),”

“i don’t think you’re giving yourself enough,” you replied, raising your eyebrows, challenging his humble temperament.  

the two of you dined contentedly, taehyung's charismatic personality and contagious smile catching you every time. the conversation, surprisingly, were never boring, they flowed into one another the way good friends converse after not seeing each other for a long time. his mannerisms and aura struck you as welcoming and comforting, as if he was a bright, warm light you wanted to step into. he was safety embodied, he was a simple, gentle man, with kindness and love pouring out of his soul. to your multiple objections, taehyung covered the bill, still feeling guilty over arriving late. a part of you inexplicably pitied him; you felt as though you should’ve at least pitched in half. it may have just been your morals being challenged, but you almost felt obligated to pay him back.  

dusting off his trousers, taehyung arose from his chair, your date coming to a close. a wave of childish frustration fell over you: you didn’t want it to end, not yet! to your surprise, he glided to your side of the table, chivalrously offering his hand to help you up. you smiled and took his hand graciously, his endless good-natured acts perplexing you. who was this guy? other than being late, was there really a flaw?

as you arose from your seat, you decided the answer to the latter question was no. this was absolutely the best date you’d ever been on: he wasn’t obnoxious, he wasn’t boisterous, he didn’t ask you for anything afterwards… you’d been with your fair share of unforgettably horrible men. taehyung was different, though: it wasn’t that he was just more decent than the men you’d previously gone out with, it was his aura, his persona, it was something above physicality that made you fall for him more than you thought you should.  

“thank you for the lunch,” you smiled graciously as he accompanied you out of the restaurant, opening the door for you as well. “this was really enjoyable! i hope we can do this again soon.”

“me too! thank you for being so nice to me despite me being late.” he returned your kind grin before grasping for his buzzing phone in his pocket, pulling it out to check an apparent text. “i, uh…” he swallowed, now visibly anxious. “would you like me to walk you to your car?” his tone completely different from his physical state.  

“i’m just over there!” you motioned to your car, stammering, confused by his sudden shift in energy. “if you have something important to get to, you go ahead!” he relaxed slightly, thanking you kindly and pulling you into a warm embrace. it felt shocking, but not in a bad way — his very intimidatingly handsome appearance contrasted with how gentle he had been with you. should you have liked him this much on the first date alone?

“i’ll see you soon! i can text you my number on tinder later. thank you again!” he jogged backwards, still making eye contact before he finished his statement, where he then turned completely and began dashing towards his car. you found him charming and funny and it made you smile.  

spinning on your heel to walk towards your car, you spun the chain of your car keys on your finger, the thought of taehyung still with you. he’d been perfect: good-hearted, humble, witty… you could go on. you sat quietly in the front seat of your car, thumbing the leather of your steering wheel. part of this felt very suspicious — how could someone be this perfect? how could someone be this enjoyable, this wonderful, this considerate? you didn’t want to feel this way about him as he felt wholly genuine, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling of possibly being lied to. was he messing with you? he absolutely could be. what would you know?

you'd thought yourself into a corner. suddenly, you felt very bad, sitting alone in your car in a silent parking lot. you closed your eyes tightly and sighed loudly, trying to expel as much upset as you could from your body. you’d just had an amazing date! you shouldn’t be feeling this bad afterwards. taking a moment to collect yourself once more, you started your car, dusting yourself off before driving yourself home, the scent of taehyung’s faint cologne lingering in your mind.

i missed u guys :}. enjoy this piece from me!

[max-the-d0g]

The Missing Piece - Little moments in the library.

Cordelia Goode x Wilhemina Venable x reader

If you haven't read the Mystery woman series, the link for it are below. 

The Mystery woman part 1, part 2, part 3

Warning : none really. A little tiny mention not so innocent thoughts. 

will be edited sooner or later. 

This is part 2. Part ones link is below.

Part 1 

The best part of the academy is the library, the shelves filled with many different types of literature, ranging from the classics to modern-day literature. There was a shelf dedicated to magic books, only the simplest books, however, the more complex books were in Cordelia's office for obvious reasons. You also appreciated the little details, unlike the academy's halls and main rooms it wasn't minimalistic. The room was heavily furnished, with a couple of tables and chairs around the room and paintings that were centuries old on the wall. The room was magnificent, the most superior part of the room is the fireplace, it was placed in the centre of the furthest wall. Your favourites spot was the corner of one of the three-seater sofas, close to the fireplace, of course. It wasn't a popular place for the more youthful students, you do spot the odd bookworm in the corner of the room reading. You might spot Zoe deep in a book. When you do, you would join her, and silently read.

That's what happened, you had joined Zoe in the library. However, she was dragged away by Madison a couple of minutes ago and now you were alone. It wasn't like you were complaining, you enjoyed your own company. It didn't last long as a heavy shut of the doors snaps you out of your calm and silent state. Wilhemina steps out of the shadows with a book pressed against her chest, with a tight lip smile as she sees you. She settles on the opposite sofa to you. You glue your eyes back on the page you were currently reading, however, in your peripheral vision, you see her settle her cane against the table next to her. She flexes her hand out a little, almost as it became stiff due to holding the came for long periods. What you didn't know was that your thoughts were a little correct, her back had been unbearable today making her hold her cane more tightly than usual. Her knuckles were almost too white at the grip she had on the cane. The tension in her back was very similar to someone repeatedly poking it with a hot pipe, despite the fact that she hadn't gone through that suffering. It seemed her body had decided to torture her today. You overhear her take a deep breath out before opening the book. The heat of the fire gives her an orange hue which made her hair more vibrant. You can see the various colours of orange and red in her hair, it was extremely similar to the sun. Tempting to touch but too hot to.

Shaking your head out of your thoughts, you go back to reading your book. After, a couple of page-turning you feel a pair of eyes on you. Looking up you see the redhead observing you, offering her a gentle smile. "Yes?" You question, wanting to know the reason for her looking. "Nothing, Ms L/N" Shaking your head at the formalities."Y/N."You correct her."Huh?"She mutters."Y/N. My name is Y/N, not Ms. I've told you to call me Y/N."You say daringly. A smirk graces her lips, she tilts her head a little, studying your reaction. "Well, Y/N. I will remind you that I know your name, I just like teasing you."Your eyes widen a fraction, heat graces your face. The book in your hand long forgotten as you stare at the woman across from you. She was staring intensely into your eyes, a wicked smirk gracing her lips.

Wilhemina went back to reading, the smirk still on display. Focusing your eyes back on the abandoned book in your hands. The words on the page, mixed together in a jumble, nothing making sense. You try hard to focus on the words on the page, but nothing works. You quite enjoyed this side of Wilhemina, the calm and teasing side of her It was unexpected of her to joke around.

Perking up a little bit you hear a set of recognisable footsteps outside the door. A second later the doors open, the supreme walks in with a tray. She looks up a little startled seeing you. There was a little hesitation before she comes further into the room, you send Cordelia a gentle smile. The small glow of the fire coats your skin in a rosy glow, Cordelia thinks it makes you look like you are bathing in the sunlight. There was a gentle look on her face as she stares at your sitting figure for a few seconds before placing the tray on the coffee table in front of you. Her eyes catching Wilheminas stare, a twinkle of mischief in Wilheminas brown orbs. On the tray are two cups, a hot steaming teapot, milk jug and sugar cubes tray. "I'll be a minute. I'm going to get another cup for you Y/N." Cordelia flashes the two of you a smile, your try to decline but she sends a playful glare to you.

There were a few awkward glances from you and Wilhemina when Cordelia left. Wilhemina glances down to the book laid on her lap, her fingertips tracing against the spine of the book. Your eyes follow the simple strokes of her fingers, wondering what else they could do. Wilhemina can see your eyes following her fingers, she knew how distracted you can get at them. She has seen you stare at them a couple of times around the Academy, desperately wanting to know what thoughts were going on through you head.

They halt as the door opens again, the blonde strutting in with a cup in her hand. She places it on the tray with the others, she holds eyes contact with the redhead for longer than necessary, almost as if they were having a silent conversation. Cordelia settles down next to you, a smirk gracing her lips, very similar to Wilehminas smirk across from you.

"Is it okay if you read to me, Y/N?" Cordelia questions softly. "I've always wanted to read that particular book and since you are reading it, do you mind if you read to me ?" She adds, a lip toyed between her teeth as she observes your reaction. You hum. "Sure." You shift a little in your seat, gazing at the blonde next to you. Wilhemina leaned forward a little pouring herself a cup of English tea, her hands stilled before she decided to pour the other cups with tea. There was a little wince as Wilhemina moves, you decided not to say anything knowing very little about her pain. She lifts the other jug with milk and pours a small amount of milk in her tea, followed by three sugar cubes. A crackle of the firewoods shakes you out of trance, locking your eyes with the redhead. She gives you a tight lipped smile. Cordelia nudges forwards too, doing the same, she pours a hefty amount of milk in her tea followed by two sugar cubes. Noticing the differences of each of their taste in tea, one liked it strong but sweet, the other weak but and not sweet. They almost complimented each other, having complete opposite preference in tea. "How do you prefer your tea, dear?" Cordelia asks, a fond smile on her lips as the fire glows in her brown orbs. "Not too milky and not too strong and two sugars, please." She follows your demands, you watch Wilhemina brings the cup to her lips, she blows at it a little before taking a sip. A hum slips from her lips, and an unexpected smile tugs at them.

Some movements from the side of you catches your attention. Cordelia sits back down further into the sofa, she shifted a little bit closer to you, a couple of inches away. A blanket lays across her legs and the cup in between her delicate hands. "Whenever you are ready, dear." She says before resting her head against the back of the sofa. You capture Wilehminas eyes, not wanting to disturb her reading, her eyes meeting yours, you silently ask if it was okay. She nods her head a little, before directing her eyes on the blonde and smirks. "Okay then..."

The words on the page escape your mouth, each sentence producing an image in Cordelia's minds. The image played the scene in great detail, her eyes closed, distracted by your voice. It was smooth and sweet, a lot like honey. It was addictive, it made her crave more wanting to hear it for the rest of her life. Wilhemina had also become distracted by your voice, watching your mouth form each separate word. The way the words were formed from your lips captivated her, much like Cordelia she found your voice soothing. Cordelia's head tilted a little closer to your shoulder. You shivered a little, not because you were cold but due to how close the blonde was. Wilhemina had witnessed this, she was hoping that Cordelia had noticed too, Wilhemina had noticed a little shake in your voice, from the smirk on Cordelia's lip, she had noticed too. As one would expect, she did, this was her plan after all. "Are you cold, Y/N?" Cordelia softly interrupts.

You didn't want to admit being nervous around them, so you nodded a little, which you regretted because the blonde scoots closer to you placing the woolly blanket over your lap, a heavyweight landed on your shoulder. Glancing there an eye full of blonde hair greets your eyes, you could smell the coconut shampoo and the whiff of earthiness, it warmed your insides. Wilhemina observes the interaction, she could tell that they were affecting you, and pride filled her up, confident that you felt something between them. "Carry on, dear." The words were shaky, and you were hoping that they couldn't tell, which sadly they did.

You were concluding the chapter when you stopped to release a yawn. "I'm gonna end it here Cordelia. If that's okay with you?" You say, exhaustion visible on your features. Wilhemina sees it, the little twitch in your left eyes and the slow blinking. She had abandoned her book a couple of minutes after you began to read. , it captured her attention and she enjoyed how your voice mimics the characters bringing the story to life.

"Yes, that's fine, dear," Cordelia claims, breaking Wilhemina's attention from you. She was reaching down for her cup, a frown making its way on her face when she realises there was none left. You placed a bookmark on the page you stopped at, placing the book on the coffee table you start to stand up. There was a round of cracking echoing in the room, being in the same position for longer than expected caused your body to stiffen.

"Goodnight, Cordelia. Goodnight, Wilhemina." You gently say, facing each woman, a kind smile from Cordelia and a less stern expression from the Wilhemina. "Goodnight, dear," Cordelia replies, equally soft. "Goodnight, Ms L/N," Wilhemina says, a smirk gracing her lips as she notes your narrowed eyes. Cordelia gives Wilhemina a little questionable look, which Wilhemina brushes off. "Ms Venable, I've told you before. Don't make me say it again." You rasp out, Wilhemina's eyes widen a fraction. The tip of her tongue pokes out, licking her dry lips. Her teeth toy with her bottom lip before she lets it go, it stirred something inside her. The way you spoken with confidence. Walking away with a smirk on your lips you hear a little shuffling. "As I've said before Ms L/N, I like teasing you."

Once the library door closes, you take deep breaths, in and out desperately trying to even out the fast beating in your heart, your legs have a mind on their own as they carry you to your bedroom. A smile settles on your face as you think about the feeling of Cordelia's head against your shoulder, feeling her body heat against you and Wilhemina's intense gaze on you. It made you feel warm. You knew when you were reading that Wilhemina had stopped reading her book and concentrated on you. The atmosphere moments ago was intense when you spoke to Wilhemina. Her words repeating themselves inside your mind. She liked teasing you.

When you left the library, you missed a certain blonde moving to the side of Wilhemina. She curls into Wilhemina , snuggling against her neck placing a light kiss against it. "When do we tell her ?" Cordelia whisper against Wilhemina neck. "Soon, little one. Soon."

Tagging : @talulahmae