#please ignore the stray cat hair

[fameless1]

Got all cute with nowhere to go 🙃

[ellecdc]

can i request a reader x poly!marauders where the reader finds a stray kitten and she hides in her robes so she can feed it in morning and just carries it around school.

it’s the boys vs a kitten for reader’s attention, especially sirius sometimes he’s talking smack to the kitten who’s a asleep and then reader catches him and scolds him for it

loolllll poor Siri. Thanks for your request!

Sirius' Arch Nemesis

poly!marauders x fem!reader

CW: brief mention of Sirius' crappy childhood but very brief and it's only for dramatic effect (it's from Sirius' POV, obviously)

Some may deem this dramatic, but Sirius was very sure that this was quite possibly one of the worst things to have ever happened to him.

“Now, that’s a little dramatic, Pads.” Peter chided, watching you coo at a little bundle hidden beneath your robes as you fed it pieces of chicken at dinner.

“She used to feed me chicken like that.” Sirius pouted, causing Remus to snort.

“She’s never once fed you like that, Pads.”

“Awe, poor Siri.” James cooed, sounding awfully sympathetic to his musings; at least Sirius had one ally here. “Would you like me to feed you chicken like that?”

Sirius gave James his best kicked puppy impression (which was very easy seeing as he was a giant puppy and had spent his entire life training for it) and nodded. “Yes please, Jamie.”

James cooed again and pressed a kiss to Sirius’ cheek before dutifully stabbing a piece of chicken and bringing it to Sirius’ mouth.

“Merlin you guys are embarrassing.” Remus muttered as he turned back to watch you dote over the runty little kitten that you’d found in Hogsmeade last weekend all on its lonesome. 

“You should leave it here, dovey. His mama may be looking for him.” Remus tried, though he couldn’t deny that the kitten did look particularly pathetic. The tiny thing was shaking, crying, and looked sort of wet or dirty - Remus may not know much but he was quite certain no kitty mama would let their little one walk around in such a state.

Remus nearly whimpered when you turned your face up to the three boys standing over you with tears in your eyes, your face overflowing with empathy. “Can we wait here then? To see if the mama comes back for him?”

Remus ignored the petulant whining’s from Sirius as he sat himself down beside you in camaraderie with nothing more than a sigh. How could he say no to such a reasonable albeit emotional request?

“Jamie?” You murmured, and Remus wasn’t sure how much of the pout was honest and how much of it was to gain sympathy for your cause, but James was quickly at your side.

“Yes, angel?”

“Do you think you could ask Madame Rosmerta for some water? Maybe tuna if she has some?”

James looked like he really didn’t want to do that but also felt he was in no position to deny you.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He conceded, pressing a kiss to your hair and causing Sirius to grumble.

“Why don’t you come with me, Pads? Once we bring it back we can head to Zonko's whist these two wait.” James offered, causing Sirius to brighten up considerably.

Needless to say, the mama cat never did show up and the kitten let out a number of pathetic little sneezes from its curled-up place in your lap.

“It’s getting dark, dove. Curfew is soon.” Remus reminded you gently.

“I can’t leave it here, Rem.” You moaned, still never raising your eyes from the kitten as it kneaded biscuits into your robes.

And Remus really hated to admit it, but he didn’t think you could leave it here either.

So, thanks to your bleeding heart and Remus’ lack of self-restraint when it came to anything you ever wanted, Sirius was effectively being replaced by a tiny little devil.

“I don’t know why you’re so wound up about this Black.” Marlene taunted from her place in her girlfriend’s lap as said girlfriend massaged her scalp on the couch of the Gryffindor common room. “It’s just a tiny kitten.”

“'Just a tiny kitten'.” Sirius sneered back at his best friend. “Right, so tell me, Miss. ‘My-Girlfriend-Is-Currently-Snuggling-And-Petting-Me-Right-At-This-Very-Moment’, what do you see my girlfriend doing right now?”

Marlene barely maneuvered her head from Dorcas’ lap to see you curled up near the fire with a book in your hand and that stupid kitten in your lap. 

“She’s reading to her cat?” Dorcas responded bemusedly, clearly not seeing what the big deal is.

“Exactly!” Sirius huffed. “That should be me.”

“Oh, my gods.” Marlene grumbled as she stood from her place, grabbing Dorcas’ hand to pull her up too. “Can we go snuggle in the snake pit? I can’t handle Sirius’ level of dramatics tonight.”

“Some friend you are!” Sirius shouted at Marlene’s retreating form as the portrait hole closed behind them.

James and Remus were currently at a prefect’s meeting with James being head-boy and Remus as (the head-boy’s favourite) prefect. 

Usually, you and Sirius would spend this time together just the two of you, which was hard to come by sometimes in such a relationship as yours. One-time you guys went and used the bath in the prefect’s bathroom knowing that all the prefects would be busy for the next hour and having gained the password from your boyfriends’. Another time, you two fashioned your own prank without the help of the other Marauder’s and even got away with it!

But right now, Sirius just wanted to cuddle.

But that was fine! If it was animals you wanted to cuddle with, Sirius was more than happy to oblige.

With a quick glance to ensure that the common room was empty, Sirius quickly shifted into Padfoot and made his way over to you.

Padfoot was feeling pretty confident in his plan, that is until he heard a nasty little sound emanating from your lap.

“Sirius!” You scolded, picking up the now very spiky and angry looking kitten from your lap. “You’re scaring him, Pads!” You cooed, tucking the kitten into the collar of your jumper.

The portrait hole opened at this and James and Remus entered the room hand-in-hand, laughing about something before turning to take in the scene.

“Uh oh...” James started, making his way over to the two three of you currently sitting near the fire. “Did Padfoot try to eat the kitten?”

Padfoot harumphed the best he could in his current doggy form. Is good dog, he thought, would not eat...only maim.

“The kitten is frightened.” You pouted, looking to James for sympathy. James looked like he was considering giving it to you, but Remus spoke up as he scratched placatingly behind Padfoot’s ears.

“Perhaps you should bring him upstairs, dovey. Give him some quiet time.”

You readily agreed, much to Padfoot’s chagrin, and left the common room. Now you’d be all the way up there and he’d definitely not get any cuddles.

“Okay, is anyone else sort of jealous of the cat?” James finally muttered plainly once he knew you were out of ear shot.

Yes, Padfoot thought as he quickly shifted back to Sirius. “Yes! It’s like she’s replacing us!”

Remus scoffed at that. “No one is being replaced, boys. Just relax.”

Sirius levelled his boyfriend with a glare. “Yeah? When’s the last time she read to you by the fire, Moons?”

Remus paused and seemed to think on that for a moment before his eyes darted back to Sirius. “I still think you’re being dramatic.”

“It’s been since the kitten, hasn’t it Remus?” Sirius argued, not willing to let it go.

“Sirius, she’s allowed to love things other than us.”

Both Sirius and James scoffed at that. “I think bloody not!” James retorted. 

“I can concede if she likes other things, but she cannot love anything more than me! She needs to love me the most!” Sirius insisted, causing both of his boyfriends to look at him funny.

“Oh?” James asked with a bemused frown.

“Is that how it is, really? You think she loves you the most out of all of us?” Remus continued.

Sirius levelled them with a look he hoped portrayed a “yeah, duh”. 

“Is that how this relationship works for you Sirius? Which of us do you love the most?” James demanded, crossing his arms in that way Sirius loves because it makes his muscles bulge. 

“Me, obviously.” He answered simply.

“You’re your own favourite?” Remus deadpanned.

Sirius shrugged. “Yeah, I’m awesome.”

“You’re not supposed to have favourites!” James whined.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been like ‘oh merlin, right now Moony is my favourite’?” Sirius asked him.

James scoffed indignantly. “Right now, he very well might be!”

Instead of having the effect he hoped that comment would on Sirius, Sirius nodded in agreement. “See? Favourites.”

“You’re an idiot.” Remus grumbled as he stood and made his way upstairs.

“Do you really have favourites?” James asked quietly once Remus had left, his voice giving way to a vulnerability that made Sirius melt.

“Not a chance, bubs.” Sirius insisted, placing a kiss to James’ temple as he pulled the spectacled boy into his side. “I just like arguing with Moony; he makes it so easy to take the piss.”

James chuckled and allowed some tension to leave his body. 

“No, but seriously, what are we going to do about that kitten?” James piped up and pulled away so he could look into Sirius’ face.

“I suppose my current plan of feeding it to the Hippogriffs is a no?” Sirius asked. He was answered by an unamused glare from James.

“Fine. Fine. Hopefully the novelty will wear off soon.” Sirius conceded. For as much shit as he gave you, he did sort of love how much you loved anything and everything that might be in need of some; himself included.

James and Sirius watched the flames dance in the fireplace for some time, just enjoying the quiet company that the two of them very rarely shared together.

“Why don't we go see what those two are up to, hm?” James asked eventually, helping Sirius up from his position on the floor and heading up the stairs towards the boy's dorm.

The room was quiet as they entered and when Sirius turned after closing the door to survey the room, he let out a horrified gasp.

“How in the buggering hell did he manage that!?” He whisper shouted, pointing to Remus laying on his bed with you pulled into his side, nuzzled into the crook of his arm.

As James moved to survey the two of you from another side, his face morphed into a pained grimace. “Pads, maybe it’s best we-”

But it was too late, Sirius had seen all he needed to see.

“You bloody traitor!” He nearly shrieked, albeit not loud enough to stir you nor the stupid fucking kitten currently curled up in a very content ball on Remus’ chest from your respective slumber’s.

If Remus had been pretending to sleep, his ruse was given away by a smug smirk gracing his face.

“Better luck next time, Sirius.” He goaded, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your arm as you burrowed further into the werewolf’s side. 

Sirius had been beaten, crucio’d, starved, disowned and homeless in his eighteen years of life. But this right here was without a doubt the worst thing to have ever happened to him.

[luveline]

hiiii not sure if your requests are open but if they aren’t just ignore this😭

imagine getting into an argument with james, sirius, and remus because you brought a stray kitten or something home and you really don’t have the room for a kitten

“but look at him🥺”

“no”

“🥺”

“… no” *less convincingly*

You hold the kitten in your hand. Remus strokes her head, her little damp ears. “It's not about that, Remus, I just couldn't leave her there, the box was falling apart and… I thought that only happened in movies.” 

Sirius leans forward on his knees to give the kitten a stroke of his own. “She's lovely,” he murmurs, scratching under her chin and grinning when she moves into it for more. “It's too bad the flat's so small. Otherwise we could keep her.” 

She's tortoise shell with a white half circle around her mouth, eyes squinted closed as she shivers. You've wrapped her in a tea towel like a blanket. She is, without a doubt, that cutest and saddest creature you've ever seen. “Where is she supposed to go, Siri?” you ask gently. 

“People love cats.” Sirius puts his hand on Remus' thigh casually, giving it a loving squeeze as he settles in. “Everybody wants a kitten.” 

But not everyone will be nice to a kitten. She feels like your responsibility now; how can you leave her? She's burrowed into you from the moment you picked her up, shushing and murmuring, your knees sodden in the puddle of rainwater beneath you both. 

“We have to keep her, please,” you say. 

There's a mutual surprise. “Dove, we can't,” Remus says. “The bathroom barely fits the toilet, shower, and sink, we'd never be able to have a litter box.” 

“It wouldn't be fair,” Sirius agrees, “on us or the kitten, she'd have no room once she turns into a cat.” 

You bring the kitten close to your chest and show them her helpless face. “But look at her,” you say softly, widening your eyes gently, your brows bunched together in the beginnings of heartbreak. 

“No,” Remus says, shaking his head sympathetically. 

You frown at him and Sirius in turn, your bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly. 

“No,” he says again, sounding unsure. 

Sirius rubs his leg. “Stay strong, my love.” 

“There's just not enough room.” 

You fear you may be losing this battle, and if they really don't want a cat, maybe you shouldn't force them. But then your trump card comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his neck, shirtless, grey joggers low on his hips, and you know you still have a chance. 

“Wow, Jamie,” you say, not having to act very much to give your voice a hoarse rasp, “you might need to shower again.” 

His smile is magnetic. “Yeah?” he asks, immediately delighted by such a brazen comment. “How's the little sweetheart? Reckon we can leave her alone?” 

“She's cold still,” you say.

James visibly melts at your sad tone, while Remus rolls his eyes. “She's just trying to get you on her side, James. I've said we can't keep the cat and she's–” 

“Taking advantage of her feminine wiles?” Sirius suggests. 

“Cheating,” Remus finishes. 

James leans over the back of the sofa between your head and Remus to kiss behind your ear, a brief press of the lips. “Why should I care? Doesn't she deserve her own way?” 

“It's not as though I'm lying,” you say guiltily. 

James laughs and kisses your jaw. You bring your shoulder up to your chin and flush with heat at such a simple thing, trying your hardest not to jostle the kitten in your hand as he wraps an arm around your front, resting his face against yours. The wet curls of his hair are cold on your skin, and the straight line of his jaw digs in. “I know,” he says. 

“Catch on, Jamie,” Remus says. 

“Shan't, won't.” Another kiss to your cheek. 

“Please, Remus, I promise if you don't want her then I won't make you, but if it's about room, of course there's enough. The four of us manage to squeeze in, don't we?” You lean into James’ embrace, eyes melty-soft. You're practically batting your eyelashes at him. 

Sirius flops into Remus’ lap with a resigned sigh. “If you don't say yes, I will anyway. Look at her.” 

You don't know if he means the kitten or you, but you choose to believe it's you he's complimenting, and you react accordingly, your little smile pushing Remus completely over the edge. 

He sighs. “Yes, alright. Fine.” 

You pass James the little warm parcel of fur and use your freshly emptied hands to grab Remus by both arms. “Thank you! Aw, thank you, Remus. Sirius. I'll be so absolutely clean and if it does seem too small I promise, I won't make anyone suffer.” 

“I never thought you would,” he says. “If you really want to keep her, I can't stop you. I'm your boyfriend, not a prison warden.” 

“Well, we share a home–” 

“I know,” he says warmly, “it's alright. Keep your kitten, dove. Looks like you've found her for a reason.” 

You laugh happily and gather him up for a hug. “Oh, I love you.” 

“What shall we name her?” Sirius asks around you. 

“I'm not fussed. What do you like?” James asks. 

Sirius meets your eyes as you and Remus pull apart. “You always get your way, hmm? Why don't you name her?” 

Oh, you could hug him to death too. He looks comfortable where he is, his face on Remus thigh, hair fanned out over his joggers, and you don't want to disturb him (he's not quite as tactile as the others), so you stroke a curl from his cheek and offer him a cheeky smile. “Don't you have any ideas?” you ask. 

“About you, or the cat?” 

You laugh at his teasing. “Which one do you think?” 

Remus nudges you in the ribs. “Don't start. If we're keeping your cat, we need to go out, don't we? You'll have to go get dressed again.”

You give them all a glowing smile and clamber off of the sofa to find your shoes. 

[rrrrinmaru]

you can talk between my legs (raf x mc, nsfw)

wc: 3200 rating: E warning: hand job, teasing, orgasm denial

“I could’ve sworn–” he mumbles, long eyelashes fluttering shut as he nuzzles into the curve of your palm. His lips are parted, two soft crescents pressing against your skin. He exhales, a rough, pained sound—you lean forward, trying to catch his gaze. 

His eyes don’t seem bloodshot. His pupils are dilated, but not severely enough that you suspect he’s been drugged. Then he takes in another long, straggling breath with the tip of his nose skimming up the sensitive inner length of your wrist, and you start wondering if perhaps he is high after all. 

“Could’ve sworn I’ve smelled this before,” Rafayel murmurs to himself. It’s as if you’re nothing more than a lifeless doll with what appears to be a devastatingly enticing scent. He fits the jut of your wrist bone between his lips—you flush, wondering if he can taste the desperate quickening of your heart rate or if that’s just all in your head—and he practically sags into your palm.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Rafayel pays your words no mind. He closes his eyes, a delighted little sigh leaving his mouth. “You smell delicious,” he moans, a low, throaty sound that threatens to make your knees buckle. 

That is—horribly unfair, you think to yourself, cheeks flushed all the way to high heaven. How can Rafayel stand there without a care in the world, making such sounds that should be enough to constitute public indecency. Isn’t he ashamed? Does he have no propriety? 

You conveniently ignore how you’re not exactly putting up much resistance against this behaviour. It’s not your fault if Rafayel wants to act like a slut in his own house. If anything, you’re the victim here, so blatantly being used as a prop.

“Miss,” he groans, rubbing your palm against his cheek, as if he’s a cat that wants to be marked by your scent. “Can I—please, I need to—”

While he speaks, you reach out your other hand to cup his face. Whether you do this as a form of support or as another form of teasing (because you know damn well the bottle spilled on both your hands), that’s between you and God.

On his end, Rafayel cuts himself off before he finishes his sentence. He whines softly, reaching up to grab your wrist with his free hand. “You smell so fucking good,” he curses, and practically buries his face in your palms.

“We have places to be,” you say. Your mouth says one thing, but your fingers are cupping Rafayel’s cheeks, thumbs stroking over the smooth skin below his eyes as he mumbles nonsense into your hands. “It’s your party.”

Rafayel mutters something. The way his lips scratch against the sensitive surface of your palms is distracting; you drag your hand along his cheek and tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

“What did you say?”

“I said—” Rafayel says in a low, rolling voice—he looks up, eyes half-lidded and eyelashes sweeping over the breadth of his cheekbones. He knows how he looks when he looks up at you like this. You know he knows, because his lips spread in that slow, satisfied smile that reeks of a cat getting the cream, and his eyes are like two crystals glittering in the low light. 

For a moment, you stare a little too long. The way the light catches on his eyelashes, the way it dips between shades in his eyes—were his pupils always so dilated? 

“I said, fuck the party,” Rafayel rasps. His eyes are trained intently on you like a hunter locking onto its prey; he groans, a rough, too-loud sound as he presses his lips to the base of your palm. 

You definitely don’t hallucinate the sudden sensation of wetness swiping over your wrist. 

“Rafayel!” You jerk back from shock, eyes widening at the slip of tongue darting out of his mouth for another taste. Before you can wrench your hands out of his grip, he’s moving far faster than you ever thought him capable—

One hand drops one of your wrists. The other pulls back, forcing you forward—you stumble, too unbalanced far too quickly, and that free hand comes to wrap around the small of your waist to yank you fully into his embrace, shoulder to hip all lined up with a delicious, dizzying pressure. 

Like a fisherman reeling in a catch. Snapped up in a second. You didn’t even know there was a reel line to begin with, but now Rafayel is rocking his hips insistently against you and your legs spread, of course they do, and you find his thigh in between yours, pressing up into the growing wetness there.

“Please,” Rafayel murmurs, burying his face in your neck. It’s—you don’t have the words to describe the way your head is filling up with hot air, the way your cheeks are rapidly turning red as you try to squirm out of his grasp. He’s never—you didn’t know he was this strong. 

You’re not really trying to get out of the position you’re currently in, but you’re putting up enough resistance that it would have sent a normal civilian to his feet. Rafayel is… holding his own. Holding you to him as he makes these little desperate sounds, teeth scraping against your neck as he grinds his length on your thigh.

“Please, what?” You whisper. You don’t know why you’re whispering. The two of you are the only occupants in this gigantic house of his, and it isn’t like anyone will overhear. It isn’t like anyone will see.

But your voice is as quiet as a whisper, a soft exhalation of air from your taut lungs. 

Your free hand is clinging uselessly to the front of Rafayel’s dress shirt. It’s a nice shirt. You find yourself trying to focus on the way the material feels, the way it slips between your fingers as you scrabble for some kind of hold that won’t crumple the shirt up beyond belief; better to think about how the silk feels against your skin rather than the growing hardness rubbing insistently against you—

He’s so desperate, you can’t help but think to yourself. Rafayel huffs, fingers tightening around your waist to bring you back down to earth. 

“Stop drifting away,” he whines. His back is a long, curved line, like a drawn bow. “Help me.”

You—it’s not like you don’t know what he’s asking for, but you think you might pass out from embarrassment before you actually get your hands on him. It’s not everyday you get a criminally attractive man begging for your hands on him. In fact, today is day one. It’s never happened before. 

You know what to do, but only in theory. In practice, it’s so disarming to have Rafayel hunched over you, sucking bruises into your neck that you know you’ll have to cover up before heading into work tomorrow. 

As if sensing your hesitation, Rafayel jerks his hips against your thigh—once, twice, sliding along the groove of your leg with such intent that it makes your core clench.

“Be patient,” you say instinctively, all too familiar with a demanding Rafayel. 

“Can’t,” he replies. His soft fringe brushes against your neck as he dips his head lower, his tongue lapping against your clavicle. The wet muscle drags across your collarbones, a feather-light, teasing touch that makes you shiver. 

The whole world narrows down to this one point, you think dazedly. Rafayel’s hands on you: one hand occupied with squeezing your waist—as if insistently reminding himself that you can’t run away—the other has fingers entangled with yours, and you swear you can feel his fluttering heartbeat through his skin. 

His lips on your neck, wandering lower with every pass of his tongue. All of a sudden, you recall what you’re wearing. A little slip of a dress, a long pool of cerulean silk, and the most daring plunge cut you’ve ever tried. 

Rafayel didn’t buy this dress for you. But when the two of you had gone out the other day—for very above ground purposes, such as escorting him to a new gallery showcase—you had passed by a boutique and you had seen his eyes linger on this dress on the mannequin. 

It had only been for a moment, but he had his eyes on the dress and you had your eyes on him. 

And when you showed up today, fingers drenched with that weird perfume, you saw the way Rafayel’s lips parted with shock, eyes running over your figure with such greed that it made you want to press your thighs together to stave off the heat that suddenly flared up.

Then he tilted his head to the side, scented the air, and here you are. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Rafayel mumbles in a daze to himself. He doesn’t look up at you for a response—it’s as if that statement was just a noncommittal comment and not something meant for you to hear—and continues to trace a thin line down your chest with his tongue.

Your hand unconsciously follows the path he takes. As he inches lower to that sliver of space between your tits, your fingers trace a similar route down the front of his chest, pressing through the fabric to feel the hard planes of his muscles.

When your fingers catch on his belt, you hear the way his breath audibly hitches. 

“Ask nicely,” you murmur. You feel like your entire body’s been soaking for too long in an onsen. Your head is boiling up and you feel—you feel possessed. 

Instead of asking nicely, Rafayel laughs against your skin and reaches for the belt himself. Before he touches the leather, you close your fingers around his wrist in a tight grip. 

“Not very nice to be restrained, is it?” You ask teasingly. “Ask nicely for what you want, Raf.”

“I’ve been nothing but nice this whole time,” Rafayel groans, but obediently lets you lead his palm back to cupping your waist. “I’ve been saying please. I’ve been nice.”

“One more time,” you coax, squeezing his palm. 

Rafayel grumbles, eyes flicking up to peer at you. But despite the petulance hanging from his lips, his eyes are dark with fervor.

“Please,” he murmurs, the word breathed out against your skin, the space where the dress slips a little too far down and reveals too much of your cleavage. “I’ve been so good.”

A lot of things happen in quick succession. He lets his tongue dart out, dipping down between your tits and licking a long line up your chest. Your fingers catch on his buckle and flick it open. He leans in closer, clearly intent on leaving a bruise the shape of his mouth right above your heart, marking you for the next few days. 

You grab the belt by the silver buckle and yank. 

Rafayel’s breath snaps in two. He glances up, lips parted in surprise as the belt falls to the ground with a clatter. “Miss—”

“What?” You ask breathlessly, fingers already fiddling with the button of his slacks. “You asked nicely.”

“I—” Suddenly, it’s as if the roles are reversed. You’re the hunter in the dark, your shadow stretching out so far it’s like a gaping maw that swallows everything in the evening light. Rafayel is the prey floundering for driftwood in the wide open sea. 

Right before you undo his zipper, you pause. The tips of your fingers linger against the hardness straining through the fabric. You can feel it—there’s a heft to it you can’t ignore. It’s a dizzying thing, feeling the physical weight of someone’s arousal for you. 

It feels scalding through his slacks. You swallow, wondering if you’re parched or your mouth just craves something to suck on.

Rafayel slants his hips into your fingers. He grinds along the flat of your palm—a long, insistent movement—and his voice comes out as a groan when he speaks. 

“Please,” he begs. His fingers spasm around your waist and your hand, as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself. All he knows how to do is to rock along your hand, feeling the bite of the metal through the fabric of his briefs—he must crave it, you think, and it’s that thought that stays in the forefront of your mind as you finally drag the zipper down. 

“You’ve stained the front,” you say dazedly, touching the tip of your index finger to the wet spot.

Immediately, Rafayel’s hips snap forward, chasing your touch. He makes this sound—as if he’s been wounded—and you feel—

“Don’t just touch it,” he pants, forehead pressed against your chest. He’s still bent over, as if your touch was enough to reduce him to shaky knees and he needs your body to hold himself upright. 

You think he’s really in no position to be giving you orders, but you want to see the way his eyelashes flutter and his eyes roll back into his head, so you skate your fingers along the throbbing length of it. 

“Harder,” Rafayel gasps, hips rolling into your grip. “Hard—ngh, hold it tighter—”

You can’t help it. Your fingers curl around the length cutting a visible outline in his briefs, but your thumb finds its way back to that wet spot. It’s damp with precum and the muscle there feels softer. You gently dig your thumbnail into that spot, and Rafayel stutters on his next sentence. 

“Fu—ck,” he groans out, his breaths coming out in hot pants against your tits. He’s so out of it, eyes closed with bliss written all over his face as he ruts into your hand. 

But even though he’s not sucking marks into your skin, even though he’s not feeling you up or dipping fingers into your drenched underwear—

This is really doing it for you, you realize. You’re rocking slowly along Rafayel’s thigh, instinctively chasing the friction against your stiff clit as you rub the pad of your thumb against the head of his dripping cock through his briefs.

“Fuck,” Rafayel exhales lowly. “That’s—mm, fuck, that’s good—harder, Miss, harder—”

“Can you cum like this?” You ask, pupils blown as you watch the way your sentence sends him into a full body shudder. You can feel the stickiness through his briefs, the jump of his cock when you tighten your grip—

Rafayel makes a broken sound. “You can’t just ask that!”

The laugh escapes your mouth before you can reel it back in. “You can, can’t you?”

Fuck, you think to yourself, lips curving up. He’s so cute. He’s so weak like this, whining as he ruts his hips into your palm, chasing the pleasure your fingers can give him. 

He doesn’t deign that with a reply. Instead, he digs his fingers into your waist, hard enough to sting, hard enough to leave bruises that you know you’ll stare at in the mirror for the next few days. He drags you closer, higher on his thigh, and your breath catches when this small movement presses your clit even tighter against his leg.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice,” Rafayel murmurs. “You’re soaked.”

“You’re one to talk,” you reply, rubbing your thumb against the underside of his cockhead and relishing in the hitched groan you draw from his mouth. “Harder?”

“Mm…” Rafayel nods, exhaling roughly into your chest when you slow your pace, dragging your fingers against his cock. “Feels—‘m close, feels—nngh, fuck, fuck—”

“Go on.” You hold him a little tighter, feeling the muscle twitch in your grip. His fingers spasm against your waist, tightening and loosening in random bursts as if he’s just kneading at your hips, trying to find purchase while he shivers through the heat slipping through him. “You gonna cum for me?”

“Don’t s—ay it like that,” Rafayel protests, voice cracking in the middle. 

You squeeze your thighs around Rafayel’s leg, riding out the heat that flares up in your core whenever he says something in that whiny, pathetic voice of his. The fire in your abdomen grows, like embers catching at drywood and spreading throughout your body. 

“I want to see it,” you say, swiping your thumb over the dampest part of his briefs, pressing down into the drooling slit at the head of his cock. “I want to see you cum.”

Your words must be the catalyst. He shudders, shoulders trembling as his hips jerk forward once, twice—he bites down, right above your heart, and you let out a quiet gasp at the sting.

Beneath your palm, beneath your fingers, you can feel the fabric grow even wetter than it already is. His cock twitches in your grip, pulsing frantically as Rafayel pants weakly, hips rolling of their own accord to drag out his pleasure. 

“Miss—!” he groans in between kisses to your chest, tongue laving over the bruise he’s sucked into your skin. “Fuck, so fucking good, nngh…”

He goes back to being non-verbal as you stroke him off, fingers pulling at his cock to coax out every last drop of cum. It’s stickier than you expected, but it makes the slide smoother and Rafayel lets out this breathless, choked noise with every downward stroke. 

And then, because you’re feeling a little brave after you just jerked him off through his briefs, you skate your fingers up and pull at the rim, trying to reach below the fabric.

A hand snaps to your wrist before you can get your fingers under. 

“If you touch me again, we are definitely not turning up for the party,” Rafayel mutters. 

You hum, twisting your wrist in a playful attempt to escape his grip. You try to stretch your fingers out, the nail of your middle finger scraping against something hot, and Rafayel’s hold on you tightens so abruptly that you almost burst into laughter. “I thought you didn’t care about the party?”

He gives you a considering look, then rolls his shoulders in a careless shrug. “True. I have more important things on my plate.”

Rafayel pauses. He straightens, leveraging the height he has over you as he looms, and then pointedly drops his gaze to where you’re practically seated on his flexed thigh, skirt tossed to the side as you unconsciously rock your hips along the muscle there.

You flush crimson. Before you can try to slide off and adjust yourself to a more presentable appearance, Rafayel ducks down. 

He’s close. So close that you can still see the flecks of pink in his dilated eyes, the redness in his cheeks from his climax. So close that when he speaks, you can feel his breath against your lips. 

“I owe you an orgasm,” he murmurs. “Hands, mouth, or something else?”

You can’t help the way you clench your thighs. What other reaction are you supposed to have?

“… All?” You say tentatively, and Rafayel’s eyes light up.

“That’s the right answer,” he proclaims excitedly. “We’ll start with my mouth. I’ve been dying to get between your legs.”

Before you can reply to that shocking sentence, he sweeps you up and over his shoulder like you weigh nothing at all. 

==

© rrrrinmaru 2024 | no unauthorised publication or reproduction allowed

[hxltic]

pt.2!! (i know that cliffhanger was menacing) 800 followers hello?!

part 1 | part 2

It was weird. It felt weird.

You sat with your chest bare, Kenma contemplating his own conscientiousness and conscious before you. Should he have any integrity, he would turn you around and fulfill what you came to do.

But he doesn’t. Intrusive thoughts win, so he dives straight into you to suck on your tits like a fucking baby.

Just watching in amusement as he tugged and nipped, it looked like Kenma was genuinely enjoying himself when he licked the bud in a single stripe, cat eyes gazing into yours devilishly by the way he could feel your back has a slight arch to it. His pale hands roamed from the small of it to your shoulder blades.

Your manicured fingers tread through the black locks that cover his tinted cheeks and reveal his long, black eyelashes. You mentally curse him for having them. Your upper back begins to stray away; Kenma just follows.

You connect strands of hair behind his ear (which he greatly appreciates you for) because he needs to see you, your curves, and body in all the bright rainbow light from the edges of his setup.

He removes the slim shirt entirely and discards it randomly in the room. He couldn’t care less where it landed. He grasps—literally grasps— both tits in each hand before looking up at you ordinarily, but in an anticipating manner.

“Take the rest of it off.”

“Say please,” you announced. Yes, you asked first, but you could still have a little fun (and refresh his manners).

“You do realize you’re literally in my hands right?”

“…So?”

He just blinks up at you and rolls his eyes in obduracy.

“Please, take the rest of it off.”

You tap a fingernail to your chin, “Hmm… say it like you mean it.”

If you could describe the ravenette’s face right now, it would be the most unamused you’ve ever seen him.

Kenma grabs you and roughs you off him, twists you around, and adroitly unbuttons your jeans from behind you. Done with your shit, he peels them down and brings your panties along. He then pulls you back down to him backwards.

“See? Easy peasy,” he comments.

Slightly embarrassed from being absolutely manhandled, you shuffled against his front and dug your head into his sweatshirt on his left shoulder.

“Are you shy now? Not too long ago you were asking me to—”

“Shut up- Shut up.”

A giggle sounds behind you and lengthy, soft fingers trail up to your plush thighs anyway, then leads more inward. He pats twice to ask you to open up for him. You comply in spite.

With two delicate fingers he spreads you open, a third experimenting by dipping into your wetness. You were already getting throbbing having thought about it all day. Your friends constantly conversed about what their partners did and how good it felt, so you want as close to that as possible, but the problem is that you’re doing it while being unaware of how skilled Kenma actually is. You’re starting to question whether he was the right person or not. Or whether it holds up to its name. Or if you can do it at all.

He caresses you, rubbing the pad of his finger in circular motions against your clit.

“Okay,” his chest rises and falls, “just relax and think about whatever boy toy you want.”

You ignore his taunting. Your eyes trail downwards. He was going so slow, but if you thought you’d have Kenma pawing at you by the end of the night you had to be on something. So, you do what he asks of you and shut down any tense nerve in your body.

“There you go,” as you soften against his front, now two of his fingers locate your nub and continue the circling. Your thighs are spread apart on each chair arm, facing the dark idle screensaver Kenma had, the plush actively being kneaded between his free hand. Your center was tingly but not the trademark “oh my god!” tingly. It felt good but you weren’t screaming just yet.

Almost in time, he curls his hand farther forward and dips a finger into you. It was very slowly done for reactive purposes, and with your sight deactivated, the reaction he expected from your chest was granted. He sinks deeper and deeper until his palm is flat against you. Thanks to his patience, you were definitely wet enough.

He stills inside.

“I can’t do anything if you won’t breathe.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, and let out a breath you had no idea you were holding. His thumb reddens your clit even more while the other hand releases your thigh and slides up your body to tighten on your breast. You feel used with his hands all over your body, but in a good way.

Your regular breaths graduated to heavy ones, and those graduated to groans. Your voice wasn’t very high pitched anyway. When does the good part come?

The inactive hand rotated to your clit, while the other focused mainly on gyrating through your walls. His long finger reached places yours couldn’t, and adding a second would only increase the chance of him finding that single pile of nerves that could make you go haywire. He was close but he didn’t think to resort to that just yet.

Two of his hands meet around your front like a hug. His articulated digits roll inside you, each roll a tug on your resistance. A little to the left or a little to the right. His hand curled somehow even deeper on the hunt for your g-spot, so he takes a mental note: up and to the right.

“Oh shit,” your hips slightly stutter.

He smiles, “Right there?” and pesters the previous patch. Your hips lift off him the tiniest bit and your hand reaches up mindlessly. Really you just needed something to occupy yourself. He goes at it again and again, your tummy folded yet moving with him as he’s still going too slow when your body is screaming for more.

You rub his nape in an attempt to focus on anything else. Your arm is geniusly wrapped between the two of you by journeying under his neck. Your reflection in the screen is unbeatable, Kenma working you like it was his millionth time doing it. Everything had a job and you just had to sit and take it.

“That’s definitely you,” he mused. He kissed under your ear on the right side. You could say you weren’t feeling much all you wanted, attempting to lower his ego, but your contorted expression spoke differently with inaudible words. At some point his speed increased.

You unintentionally grind on him as your hips falter halfway. He tries his best to ignore it and keep your high ecstasy going because it was: A, the meaning of this entire operation; B, you’d be sore anyway, better to make the best out if it; and C, had he acted on it you would’ve squirted all over his dick. Which option C isn’t necessarily a problem, it’s just he’s almost certain you’d like to see yourself do it.

“Feels good Ken,” you mumble. The squelch sound could now be heard, and you both listened as he slotted himself in the crook of your neck and your head was thrown back on his shoulder. It was dead silent in the apartment, so silent you could hear your own thoughts and maybe even each other’s.

It sure seemed that way, because Kenma persisted with a finger and stimulated you simultaneously. Your head rolled back and forth, your calves flexed, and your pretty pink toes hung off the chair arms. The clip in your hair hadn’t bothered him one bit.

“Kenmaaa,” you insisted.

“I’m here, tell me,” he indulged. Your breaths were practically weights, yet shallow at the same time.

“G’na come soon.”

“I got you. Just let it happen.”

Kenma knew you were close before you did. Hell, he was a part of your body now. Obvious signs were shown like when you tighten around him and your muscles contract, informing him everything was already in motion. The orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, taking you and your brain out to sea, but not your body. In fact, it left your disappointment behind too.

Nothing happened.

It took you a second to realize this though—considering it was still one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had—but also because Kenma hadn’t stopped.

“Please,” unaware of what you were calling for, you turned to his face, but he was already so close like he was waiting for you there. He’d slowed only a bit, but this makes little difference already being hypersensitive. Once again, you’re grinding on him, it’s just rougher now and more effective at getting him any harder than he already was.

You talked face to face and couldn’t decide what eye to look in. His lips were so close, and so very inviting. You kiss him.

Soft lips unite with yours meaningfully. You hadn’t known it would progress to this, however, Kenma now occupies your entire body, being, and mind. If you could dismiss how hard he was overstimulating you, just maybe you could kiss him with the passion you desired—but that was reaching because you couldn’t find the strength to kiss him back at all. Your lips were open yet hushed in all attempts to return the gesture, but your body fails you under the hands of lust.

You felt another coming. Your eyes had this faded look to them as if you weren’t here, so Kenma brought it upon himself to whisper to you.

“Tell me what you want and it’s yours.” His voice was soft in the air.

You respond with a light headed moan. Fuck all that shit about your voice not being high and you couldn’t pornstar moan, because to some extent it was and you really could.

“K-Ken I can’t—”

“You can,” he interrupts, “anything you want baby.”

Your hand quits fidgeting with the loomed bracelets adorning his wrists to move down to holding the both of his that were working you. The attempt is futile, because even if you did manage to get one hand away, the other would still be toying with your pussy. The veins that stretched from his muscles all the way to his forearm could be seen clear as day. Kenma adds another finger, and doubles into you as it sinks up and to the right.

“Oh fuck, Kenma, Kenma-” you repeated. You tried pushing him off, except you wanted him to continue, except that you were in no state of mind to make decisions. Your back arched impressively and you were on the verge of crying. This quick?

He constantly acknowledges you, “Uh-huh.”

Kenma almost triples in speed. He continues to whisper to you. “Do it. I know you can. Show me how you come for me.”

You don’t feel it, but Kenma plants his feet and swivels the chair around as your mouth drops. You were pushing outward more than downward, and as Kenma pistons into you, there was no way you weren’t about to squirt. Just preferably, not on his monitor. He kisses at your face now turned away from him. “Just like that, you’re almost there. Open your eyes.”

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god-!” you breathe.

Kenma quickly runs back and forth over your clit encouragingly and doesn’t let up. This wasn’t a wave that rolled over you this time, but one that came up to shore first, dragged you along into sea, and sucked you under. It felt normal until it didn’t and you were releasing all over his carpet.

“You look so fucking good like this. Knew my girl could do it.”

Your hair was fucked from rolling on it. You had came so hard your body tensed and slightly cramped, rendering you idle as he continued until you were done. The clear liquid rolled down your own leg. You felt as if you were underwater. Your head bashed like there was no oxygen. Kenma was a man of few words but after you got what you deserved, he didn’t have shit to say.

He gripped your thighs, lifted them, and slowly lowered them to his. A darker color stained his sweats. Was it from you, or him? Neither of you know. His hand pets your forehead gingerly.

“Your girl?” You ask lazily.

“I think we both know you wouldn’t have let anybody else do this,” he establishes. He was right.

sorry if it’s not as good as first!! it was supposed to come out earlier but my dumbass queued it for the wrong day 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ also did you catch the easter egg😏😏 (I made this a little shorter to match up with the time it takes to…yk… that’s why all of my fics that aren’t penetration are shorter)

@iwouldbangchan @hislaevv @butterflyk04 @lilmisskreideprinz @ahahadumbo @bontensbabygirl @ninefuckingoneone @hwangsyunho @privthemis @anonymoussimper @frenchinator2sickk

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Claws

《Stray/Catlad!Jason Todd / Reader》

-

Smiling brightly, you happily walk beside the dark-haired boy. He pays you mind, head in a book, ignoring you. A scowl on his face as sound of your foot-steps copying his.

Sighing, he closes the book, pausing, waiting for you to say something. His attention fully on you.

"What." He asks plainly, glancing over your love-sick smile as you happily hold two tickets in your hand. "Hi Jason! I just wanted to know if you would want to go too a movie with mw this weekend?"

Eyes brimming with hope, you watch him frown deeper.

"Can't. I'm busy with work."

"Oh! Well, that's okay. Maybe-"

Jason pockets his book, heading to his bike as he hops on. Putting on his helment as he starts the engenie and drives off.

"...Aw man..." You sigh, deflating as you look at the tickets. Noticing in the corner of your eye a cat themed book mark on the floor.

Picking it up, your face warms up as you beam at the written initals on the back.

"Well, theres always next time! Hmmm.. Maybe I'll pass this tickets to Bruce.. I don't wanna tell Dick though. He'll probably get upset.."

You hold the book mark close, skipping along home.

-

Turning away from the night sky, legs swinging back and forth on the ledge. You overhear a grunt, you glance down. Seeing a fight down below. Catwoman scratching at Batmans chest with her claws as he grits his teeth.

There goes a calm patrol...

Getting up, you feel a hand grab yours, twirling you around, your body bumps into a familar chest...

"Panther..."

You said politely, rolling your eyes with a smile. Taking a step back as you look at him with slight caution.

"Heya Purr-ity~!" He says snarkly, licking his lips as you turn away.

"Eyes up here." He states, grabbing your cheeks. His claw like gloves digging into your face as you gaze at him doe-eyed, scoffing. Swatting away the hand, the wind becomes stronger as your tickets fly out from your pocket.

Damn! You forgot to leave them in your civilian clothes!

Eyes widening, you try to grab them, but was beaten to the punch..!

"Huh... Didn't know you liked the books." He mumbles.

"Well, kinda. I got into them recently and saw the movie was coming out..."

You recalled Jason throwing his copy of the book at you after you spooked him on accident. Hoping to ask him out to a cafe together, instead, you got a free book and a bruised forehead.

What luck!

"...And you coincidentally had two tickets.."

"Yeah? I was gonna' give them to Batman instead-"

The male laughed, throwing his head back at the idea of Bataman watching a romantic historicall fiction movie. All in his get-up as he grumbles nonsense.

"Yeah, no..." He smirks, holding the tickets tighter. "No way he's going to do that! Sides', who he'd go with? Catwoman? Yeah, instant rejection." He says dryly, shrugging his shoulder. "Even those Bird-Brains know better to give that to their Boss."

He mentioned Nightwing and Robin, shrugging.

You sneakily try to grab the papers back, yet he easily dodged.

"Guess' you and I are going."

"Wha-?"

You feel him pick you up, slung over his shoulder. Half-expecting him to throw you. Instead, he starts running as he carries you!?

-

Jason Todd in this Au, is succsessfull in stealing the wheels off the bat-mobile. That catches the attention of certain cat-like thief. So he becomes her protege. Super Easy.

I headcanon Jason being kinda closed off in his Au, but slowly becomes more open. He's happier in his own little world with his books and Selina's multiple cats.

-

"Panther..? No.. Move! Move please! Move you stupid cat! Panther!"

Pushing away the thief, the sound of a crowbear smashing into your sides rung in the desolate area. "AUGH-!" You scream, Joker laughing as you fall and crash into one of the shipping crates of Joker-Gas.

"..Purrincess..?" Panther spoke slowly, the nickname a bit bitter on his tounge, more fond of Purr-ity. Yet it meant nothing now, no sweet familiar giggle. Nor playful banter..

Instead, horrible laughter.

In this Au, Jason doesn't die. But hates Joker in general. While.. Heroine(Y/N) doesn't suffer OG Jasom Todd fate..

Possibly, but super close calls.

Also, made up a small au where she has a Ric Graysom situation, so a possible idea too. Dunno, I wont decide.

"D'aww... How sweet! Give it up for lovers!" The clown cackled as the henchman stare in horror. Blinking out of his shock, the thief snarls in a animalistic manner. Yelling as he grab one of his guns, pointing at the head of the stupid clown.

-

"Wow..! Ears! So cute!" You said in awe, wearing your civilian clothes as the thief grumbles. Looking away, not bothering with you. Even when you and the other, "hostages" sat as Catwoman snagged the musem jewlery.

You sweat a bit, not partically used to his cold shoulder. Often him hogging your vigilante time instead.

-

Pressing a soft kiss on your knuckle, you eye Jasons bloodied hands worriedly. Sure, you adored the contact, but you were worried.

"Thank you, for your help- B-but your hurt!" You make sure your hands cup around his. Worriedly glancing around for a bandage or calling one of the officers.

Protective Nightwing Lol.

"Don't worry, (V/N)! Got one of the paramedics right here!"

You pout as Nightwing gets in the middle of you and Jason. Pushing the health care hero between you two. The Big Bird ushering you to Bat's side.

[What?? More Batboys as Cat Thiefs?? Yes. Originally, i wanted to call him. "Alley-Cat", but found out there already was one! Anyway, yay! Comments and art are always wanted and appriciated!]

[justporo]

An Assortment of Strays

I believe I still owe you guys a drabble about how Astarion adopts a stray kitten. So here you go. @mushy6902 this one's on you again! (Also I only googled what you could give a kitten for improvisation, don't take that as advice!)

Artwork by the wonderful @britonell ❤️

Pairing: Astarion/Gn!Tav

Wordcount: 2,2k

After an autumn storm Astarion comes home completely drenched, under his doublet jacket he has a small kitten that's desperately trying to cling to the vampire's chest.

Astarion had gone out to run some errands - probably mostly threads for his embroidery projects and some new tomes he could brood over.

He‘d asked you if you would care to join but you had taken a look outside your tall living room window, seen the autumn storm brewing outside, making itself known with stormy winds and clouds passing over the moon and told him “thank you, but no thank you”.

He couldn‘t catch a cold - you could, and weren‘t very keen on it.

Then you had cozied up in front of the lit fireplace with a goblet of wine - you had adopted Astarion‘s inclination to it in no time - and a book. Surely, it had started to rain cats and dogs soon after. And because you were such a nice and thoughtful person you had already collected some towels for the vampire when he would return and curse the weather, looking like a wet puppy, his white curls all but flattened by the rain and drooping adorably around his pointy ears.

He took much longer than expected though but you weren‘t worried - he was a free man now after all and could do whatever he pleased.

So, you sat and read - Scratch had come over too when the storm had really started going. After your party had split after everything was said and done, you‘d insisted on keeping the stray. So now he lived with Astarion and you in your little townhouse and very much enjoyed being spoiled by you.

Astarion didn‘t bond with the dog awfully much - „rather a cat person, my love, sorry“ - but he still sometimes could be found sitting in the window alcove reading with the dog in his lap, who received some head scratches.

Scratch had almost buried himself under the blanket you had spread over your legs now, when the first lightning strikes had turned into roaring thunder. You were gently patting his head and ears to soothe him while holding your book with your other hand. Focused completely on your reading you only looked up when you heard noises - and cursing - in the hallway.

You put your reading down and softly lifted the dog‘s head from your lap to get up. As you walked in the hallway you saw the expected scene: Astarion completely drenched, hair dripping and cursing like a sailor.

„Gods, I should have listened to you concerning the weather - you were right“, Astarion spat and made and disgusted face. „I‘d say I am right more times than you would like to admit, my love“, you answered with a chuckle and grabbed the towels you had prepared but were startled when you realised there was something more.

The vampire seemed to have something inside his doublet jacket he had obviously tried to keep dry.

„What is it you have there, Astarion?“, you asked curiously and drew your brows together - somehow you were sure that it wasn‘t just books or a precious bottle of „a fullbodied red“ that he was carrying.

The vampire ignored your question. His face lit up when he saw that you were holding some towels: „Oh, good thinking, my sweet, we could really use something to soak up all the godsdamned rain.“ „We?“, you replied confusedly and helplessly held up the towels.

Astarion carefully opened up his doublet and revealed a small furry creature. A small white kitten that was just as drenched as Astarion and desperately tried to cling to the vampire‘s chest: small, scared, miserably shaking and meowing.

„Oh no, who‘s this poor little thing?“, you cooed immediately and opened up your arms with one of the towels opened up so you might wrap the small kitten in it.

„Really? That‘s how you treat a cat you‘ve just met when I am here - your cherished soulmate - just as wet and miserable?“, Astarion complained. „For being so miserable you have an awful lot of breath to waste, my friend.“ Astarion huffed in protest. „Also you are not probably only a few weeks old and loudly meowing for help“, you continued and carefully took the kitten from Astarion who just as carefully handed the tiny little thing to you.

„Oh, I could meow if that‘s what would help further my case with you“, Astarion pouted while you cautiously dried off the kitten.

When the vampire just stood in front of you and said nothing while still dripping all over your hardwood floors you looked back up. „Oh uh, there‘s another towel back there, my love, if you want to dry yourself“, you said and then went back to cradling your small new friend.

Astarion sighed dramatically and walked past you to grab the promised towel. „I already get the feeling, this was a mistake. Your heart so eagerly conquered by a cute little stray you just took in“, he proclaimed theatrically, the back of one of his hands placed on his forehead.

„Hmm, says the cute little stray that I took in and that conquered my heart“, you replied matter-of-fact, not taking your eyes of the small animal and started to walk towards the living room and the burning fire there in the fireplace.

As you passed Astarion who was still trying to get his hair dry you threw your vampire a sideglance though; just to make sure he‘d caught that. And, oh, he had. He smirked and winked at you, having heard exactly what he wanted from you.

You sat down in front of the fireplace. Scratch was immediately up and wagging his tail, smelling the newcomer. “You be nice and keep your distance, Scratch”, you warned the dog. “I guess our new friend is already scared out of their mind!” And so the stray layed down again, his head on the ground between his paws, looking up at you with puppy eyes. His tail was still lazily wagging in excitement.

The kitten was slowly stopping shuddering with the warmth of the fire starting to dry her fur, but she wouldn’t stop meowing. Astarion came over to you after some time after he had put on some dry clothes. “I guess she doesn’t want to be held by me. Will you hold her? I’m going to look for something we can feed her in the kitchen”, you explained immediately after the vampire had sat down on his knees in front of you. You cautiously handed over the towel with the kitten to the stunned elf who started to huff in protest: “No, Tav, please you are the one good with animals…” “You brought the small cat here…” “Yes, but only because-“ You were already out the door and halfway to the kitchen. You searched your brain for what you knew about what you could feed a cat that was still so small. Tomorrow you would have to go out and find proper nutrition for the poor small thing.

You rummaged through your cabinets and finally mixed together some milk, water, yogurt and eggs – at least for tonight that would hopefully suffice. In one bowl you had your improvised kitten food and in another you filled some water. Then you went back to the living room. Astarion had donned the towel and was holding the kitten against his chest where it had calmed down. But she still had her claws borrowed in Astarion’s doublet and apparently they went right through the cloth judging by the vampire’s grimace.

“Watch out, she got you, tiger”, you joked as you kneeled down in front of him with the two bowls in hand. Scratch was up again too and sniffed curiously at the mixture for the kitten. But it was seemingly not much to his liking as he laid down again quickly.

“Should I set her down so she can feed and drink?”, Astarion asked you. He really seemed a bit overwhelmed with trying to care for the small furry thing. As she clawed at him again a soft “oww” left his lips. “We can at least try but we should pay attention Scratch doesn’t get too close. He would probably be a bit much for our newcomer”, you said and looked at the dog tentatively. But Scratch seemed to have taken the hint and had laid down a bit further and had just started to snooze peacefully.

Astarion slowly and carefully lifted the kitten from his chest, having to remove a claw or two with his fingers. He sighed as he looked down and saw some loosened threads in the embroidery: “I’m going to have to patch that up later.” Then he sat the small one down in front of the bowls. But the vampire did not let go f the small animal before he let one finger caressingly run over the creature’s head and down it’s back. He almost seemed scared that it would run off. But the kitten did not. If anything, she seemed to even enjoy the vampire’s pets.

“She’s so weird. Animals usually don’t feel very comfortable around me – you know, the whole vampirism thing… They feel it”, Astarion said absent-mindedly while he watched the cat slowly check out the two bowls. His red eyes were still observing her, a small warm smile was playing on his lips. Your own heart swelled with affection seeing how much he cared for this small being.

“Where did you find her?”, you asked. The vampire reached out to the kitten again, softly stroking her why she drank a little water. The small blue eyes were wandering around the surroundings – cautiously. But she still moved up her head to get more of the vampire’s pets. “I guess she likes you”, you said with a smile and kept your eyes on her before the Astarion could answer your previous question. “Trust me to get someone to purr”, he smirked. “Eww Astarion, not the time”, you moaned. You only received a chuckle and a smirk in response.

“I heard some meowing while everyone was scurrying from the rain in a small alley. I thought I was imagining it at first but there she was, a small little kitten, sitting alone in a small basket. It was completely drenched and it didn’t look like its mother was still around. Maybe she was the runt of the litter. I… just couldn't leave her there, all alone and cold, in the dark”, Astarion explained, his eyes miles away as he remembered the situation. But you could quickly see that that wasn’t the only thing. It was apparent why he felt for the lost little creature.

“You have a big heart, Astarion”, you told him sincerely which made his gaze flick to yours. But his eyes immediately left yours again. He surely didn’t believe what you said himself. At least not yet. That was okay though, you would tell him again and again until he didn’t doubt himself anymore.

The kitten meanwhile was trying to feed from the mixture you had concocted but it seemed she was only really getting the stuff on her adorable little face.

Astarion kept observing her a little bit more, cocking his head. Then he shook his head and softly grabbed the small creature again. “It’s not going to work like this, little one, if you only keep rubbing your face in your food”, he said affectionately as he made to hold her with one hand. With the other he took some of the mixture with one of his fingers and then held it to the kitten’s snout.

And surely, after a few seconds she licked it off the vampire’s fingers. A big smile crept onto your face and your heart grew in size while you watched the scene. Scratch also had slowly come back and was pushing his nose under your arm so you would let him rest his head on your lap again. You allowed it and kept watching how Astarion slowly fed the kitten. She’d quickly grown more eagerly and had started using her teeth too.

“Oww, will you stop biting me, you mean little thing”, Astarion exclaimed and shook his hand. “Serves you right, now you know how it feels”, you immediately threw in. The pale elf threw you a glance, saying “are you even serious”, but he kept allowing the cat to feed of his fingers until she seemed sated and her eyes grew heavy.

The vampire grabbed the towel that still laid next to him and lightly rubbed the mess of the kitten’s face. You offered Astarion the blanket from before to make an improvised bed for the small one on which he placed the cat carefully so she could get some rest.

“She’ll need a name if we’re going to keep her”, you said as you both watched the fur ball breathe softly. “Well, we already have a dog called Scratch, maybe we can call her Bite”, Astarion replied with a grin. You made a face at him and left the topic for the time being.

“What a fine assortment of strays we are, don’t you think, my love?”, Astarion asked then and looked at you with warmth in his eyes. You leaned over and gave him a kiss. “Fine, yes”, you answered as you made to lay down and put your head into Astarion’s lap. “But we’re not strays anymore, we’re home now”, you said with a smile and looked up at your soulmate. The vampire let his hands cup your cheeks and ran his thumbs over them lovingly: “And how sweet it is being home with you, my heart.”

Bonus: Enjoy this sweet little creature stare directly into your soul!

[bloodmoonmuses]

stray cats, cold spaghetti | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, meet cute, friends to lovers (this is unedited, so forgive any typos! happy valentine's day!)

warnings: mentions of food!

summary: your cat introduces you to your new friend, mark. he's a bit more similar to an actual cat than you initially realized.

You didn’t understand the attachment people had to their pets until this stupid cat showed up. She was a stray, with mangled fur and callous eyes, who popped up some months ago. You had checked for any postings about missing pets, and even asked a few of your neighbors, but no one claimed the ratty thing. It’s not that you disliked animals entirely- you’re not a sociopath. You just aired more on the side of nonchalance. 

The cat could sense this, ever since the first time you two crossed paths. You remember that night so vividly. You couldn’t sleep. You laid on your couch, staring at the ceiling, hoping slumber would whisk you away sooner than later. Just as your eyes began to flutter shut, you heard whining. Visceral, pained whining. At first, you tried to ignore it, but when you heard a sound that suspiciously sounded like a young child, you figured it’d be better to survey the situation just in case. When you opened your door to a begging cat, you sighed. Damn the neighbors for feeding this thing. Now she thinks she owns the place. 

“I bet you’re hungry, huh.” The cat bore into you with bright green eyes, tilting its head as if to say, “Duh!”

So you re-entered your home, Googled “What human food can cats eat?”, and came back with canned tuna and half a carrot. The brat looked right past the carrot and inhaled the tuna, this being its first real meal of the day. In between scarfing down food, the gray cat looked at you inquisitively. “Any more where that came from?” her eyes said. She sidled up next to your leg, purring and rubbing her head against it. 

“That’s all I got,” you had confessed. 

You named her June, since that’s the month she came into your life. Now, you’re best friends. June is actually pretty chill. She likes watching movies with you and, strangely, likes going on walks. After getting her groomed, she’s kinda cute too. You hated to admit it, but you love June. You imagine this is how people felt about their kids- without the initial reluctance of course. June comes and goes as she pleases as if she’s still a stray, but always comes back by dinner time. 

When June isn’t back at her usual time one day in October, you get a bit nervous. She never does this. Before breaking out into a full out panic, you remember she’s got a collar and a tracker from the vet now. No biggie. Opening the app that’s connected to June’s tracker, you meander down the path you usually walk with her when it’s warmer out. When you’re a few blocks from your place, you see her, relief flooding your system. Then you realize there’s a man petting her.

“Junie! June!” You run up to her, taking her into your arms. You snuggle her into a tight embrace, planting a kiss on her head. You’re so caught up in your reunion with June that you forget about the stranger standing in front of you. Oh yeah. You should probably say something. His hair is somewhere in between auburn and brown, making his face look incredibly warm. You hold June a bit tighter.

“Cute cat,” the stranger says. His voice is a bit hoarse. “Thought she was a stray before I saw the collar.” Um, okay? June’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s clearly cared for. 

“Yeah, she’s mine. Do you, like, follow strays around in your free time?” you ask with a bite to your tone. 

“Do you let your pet wander around like a stray in your free time?” Fair, you think, but still rude.

“She’s a free spirit,” you contest. 

“So you let her wander.” 

“This is the first time she hasn’t come home for dinner. Our relationship is built mostly on my ability to provide her food- which works for me.” You’re not sure why you’re explaining your relationship with your cat. Who cares what this guy thinks?

June jumps out of your arms, back to the ground, and walks up to the stranger’s legs. He bends down to resume petting her. From his crouched stance, he looks into your eyes. The eye contact makes you shiver.  

“She’s sweet,” he says. “What’s her name?” 

“June. She’s a charmer- and incredibly manipulative. She probably thought she could swindle you out of some food.”

“Do I look easy to take advantage of?” He asks.

You assess him. Oversized hoodie, baggy pants, sneakers covered in scuffs... Maybe he’s a dancer. Or skateboards. You’d be into that, you think. Skater boys weren’t really your thing, but they could be- as long as it’s him. If anything, the guy just looks… cozy, all bundled up like this. There’s a tinge of red on the tip of his nose from the nippy air. He’s smirking to himself at his (flirtatious) question, making his cheek look plump. You want to pinch it. 

You want to make him as warm as his eyes make you feel. 

You realize you’ve probably been staring. Geez, what was his question? Oh yeah. “Yeah. Like a pushover,” you say. “In the best way, of course.”

“Ouch.”

“Only a real sap would fall victim to June’s powers. She can sense lackeys. No offense.” 

“I’m gonna choose to believe that means you think I’m a nice guy.”

“Nice enough.”

“I’ll take it.” The two of you stand in awkward silence for a few moments, June having finally grown bored of her new friend. The guy stands from his crouching position and sways a bit as he awaits your next move.

“Well, like I said, this little lady was late for dinner. So if it’s okay with you,” you pick up June, then continue your thought, “We’ll be heading out.” 

As you turn to walk back home, the stranger says, “I… didn’t catch your name, by the way.” 

Right. You introduced June, but not yourself. Go figure. “Oh. I’m ___.” 

“Cool. I’m Mark.” He looks like a ‘Mark’-boyish and chipper.

“Nice to meet you, Mark. Well, have a nice night.” You start to walk again, but Mark interjects yet again.

“The sun’s setting,” he blurts it out like he’s trying to rid his mouth of the words as quickly as possible. “Can I walk you home?” Then he amends, “I live nearby, so I know it gets kinda dark in this neighborhood. Not many street lights.”

You think about it. You’re not getting any serial killer vibes, plus he’s already passed the June test. (And if you're being honest, he's very cute.) “Um, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you walk in silence, save for June’s purring. When you make it to your apartment building, you stop. Your gut is twisting, mind fixating on the warmth radiating off Mark’s body. Your fingertips are whirring with electricity. You have a bad idea. 

“Would you maybe… wanna come in for dinner?” Mark turns to look at you.  “I never really learned how to cook for one person, so I always have a bunch of leftovers.” 

It’s a lie, but not entirely. You like to cook enough food for the entire week. Mark doesn't need to know this, you conclude.

Mark nods to himself. “Uh, sure. I could eat.”

As soon as you place June down in your apartment, she sprints to her food bowl. Silly girl. 

“Sorry about the mess. Wasn’t expecting company,” you say. “I hope you like spaghetti.”

“Love it,” Mark responds. (You’d later find out this was a lie.)

“Perfect.”

That’s how you and Mark became friends- similarly to how June came into your life. You fed him. In all honesty, he wasn’t that fond of your spaghetti. He just liked the way you smiled each time he took a bite. The two of you continued to get to know one another while making food. Neither of you are great cooks, so you usually team up. It’s become a love language of sorts, sending recipes back and forth to try. You look forward to eating with Mark more than anything these days.

You’re more than aware of your underlying feelings for Mark, but you’ve managed to temper them. You don’t want to scare him off, but the tension is relentless. You’re making tiramisu and your shoulders touch. You’re piping flowers on a cupcake while Mark pulls tendrils of hair away from your face. You’re whisking meringue into stiff peaks while Mark hums to June in the living room. It’s heart achingly domestic. 

Oftentimes you imagine Mark as your husband. In your daydreams the two of you are wearing matching aprons, flour dusting his nose. He kisses you, a fit of giggles attacking your system. You’re absolutely smitten and unabashedly so.

 In reality, today is Valentine’s Day. Mark suggests he comes over and makes pizza. You don’t think Mark realizes what day it is until you suggest making your pizzas heart shaped. He says he forgot to buy his friend Jaehyun a birthday gift.

“This is, like, kinda romantic.” If being covered in pizza sauce and flour is romantic, then yes. This was very romantic. You have a nice spread here-  fresh basil, mozzarella, alfredo sauce, vodka sauce, roma tomatoes… It smells so nice. Mark keeps sneaking chunks of cheese into his mouth. He looks like a little mouse. June is fast asleep on the couch. You’ve finally perfected the heart shape of your dough, and begin to spread alfredo sauce on your pizza. 

“Your parameters for romance are very strange, Mark Lee.”

“If you close your eyes, it’s like we’re in Italy.” When he says things like this, they only fuel your daydreams. You blame the flush of your face on the preheating oven.

“Venice, I hope.”

“Of course.”

Mark’s pizza looks more like an anatomical heart than the kind you’d doodle in a notebook. He scoffs when you tell him this, feigning offense.

“Should I remind you of how your cinnamon rolls came out a few weeks ago?” They were awful. At a certain point, you had given up and rolled them into balls. 

“My cinnamon rolls/balls were innovative and transcendent.” 

“I don’t even know how you messed them up,” Mark says as he puts the pizzas in the oven, “We bought pre-made dough.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When the pizzas are done baking, the two of you sit at the dinner table. It’s a different feel for the two of you, seeing as you usually eat together on the couch.  You take a bite of your pizza, savoring the taste.

“Not bad. Wanna taste?” Mark nods. Instinctively, the two of you swap plates, trying each others’ creations.

“I think you’re better at making savory foods.”

“I agree.”

You and Mark continue to eat your pizzas, taking gulps of your respective drinks in between bites. Beer for Mark, white wine for you. Jazz plays softly from your shitty phone speaker, and June’s snores fill in the gaps of silence. After a bit, Mark’s face goes red from the alcohol. You liked seeing him tipsy. He gets all wavy and fluid, unconsciously swaying side to side like a daisy in the wind. Your face feels fuzzy from the wine and you find yourself biting your tongue. 

You’ve had to be more conscious of your alcohol intake around Mark lately. It felt as if at any moment, your love for him would simply become unbearable. Recently, it’s been hard to just look at him- even while sober. Tonight, apparently, you threw caution to the wind. 

“Mark?” you say.

“Hmm….”  He’s drifting away, lethargic from the food and beer. You repeat his name again, this time getting his full attention. When his glassy eyes meet yours, the force behind them knocks the wind out of you.

“Yes?” says Mark. He takes another sip of beer. 

You can’t do this, you think, backtracking entirely. The lie escapes as a garbled mess of words: “Forgot what I was gonna say.” You take a nervous gulp of your wine.

Mark slams his fist on the table, in a drunken stupor. The sound startles you, but there’s no malice behind his motion. In fact, he’s laughing to himself. “Bullshit.”

“I really did lose my train of thought. Maybe it’ll come back to me.”

“I know you’re lying. Like you lied about that cold ass spaghetti you used to lure me in!” he says, referencing the night you met. The spaghetti wasn’t that cold…

“I really did make too much spaghetti that night! Plus, you kept June safe. It was the least I could do!” 

Mark begins to gather your plates and cups, walking over to the kitchen to place them in the sink. As he stands, he says, “I won’t force you to say it, but I know you’re lying.” 

Then he moves to run the faucet. The rushing water fills the silence like TV static, buzzing and itching in your ears. Your throat is burning. You want to talk to him openly, honestly- but something’s stopping you. Mark washes the dishes wordlessly. With his back turned to you, his words hang heavy in the air. Mark never pries but simultaneously knows you so intimately. You love being known by him. You love knowing him. 

You simply love him.

“Why’d you walk me home that night?” Your voice barely pierces the air. The question practically squeaks out of you.

“What?” Mark turns off the facet and dries his hands on a towel, turning to look at you.

“The night we met. Why’d you walk me home?”

He contemplates the question for a moment, closing his eyes to visualize the night. Then he says, “Wanted to make sure you got home safely.” 

The moment is delicate and fragile. You’re scared that if not nimble enough, if not cradled with the utmost gentleness, it will shatter. You proceed with caution.

“Mark?” At the sound of his name, Mark returns to his seat at the dining table.

“I think… I love you.” Mark chuckles. “Don’t laugh!”

“You think?” he says, now breaking out into a full-bodied laugh.

“Yeah. I think so.” 

“I love you too.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “...I think.”

“Very funny, asshole.” 

Mark reaches over the table and places a chaste kiss upon your lips. “Okay, I think I’m a little more sure now,” he says.

“Need some more reassurance?” you ask. Mark nods. 

You lean in to kiss him this time, and just before your lips touch, you hear whining. You pull back to look down, seeing June curled up beneath your chair. Her timing is always impeccable. The two of you giggle, sealing the moment with a fervent kiss. You melt into his touch, the elation coursing through your veins. When you come up for air, you meet Mark’s eyes.  

“What?” he says. “I’m a better kisser than you thought?” 

“I was just wondering… you’re still gonna wash the dishes, right?”

[choism]

Lost Puppy | j.s

Bulgae Hybrid!Jake x gn!Reader

Genre: Fantasy AU, smut, angst, hurt comfort

Word Count: 4.8k

Synopsis: While waiting out a storm, you find a battered spirit hybrid in need of help

General Warnings: heavy angst, mentions of physical and emotional abuse, mentions of forced sexual suppression

Smut Warnings: Unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, impreg (kinda?), hybrid rut, face sitting, blowjob, bottom!jake, sub!jake, mommy kink, top!reader, pet name baby

A/N: Hello everynyan! This is my first ever jake fic finally and I'm proud to say that it's part of a collab hosted by @svngcore! I'm so glad I was apart of this collab and even though it's very late I hope you enjoy <33333

Bulgae are strong and fierce dogs or hairy dogs which are likely to be the indigenous Korean dog breed sasari, which means "ghost chasing dog".

It was a really stormy day in the city. You were on your way home from work once the storm hit, so now not only was it dark, the lights on the sidewalk flickering and only dimly lighting your path, but it was pouring rain. Luckily you always keep your travel umbrella with you, but it can only shield you so much from the fat droplets of water pounding the thin material. 

You decide it's not worth the 4 block walk to your apartment after you make it about halfway there and everything you own is soaked, so you duck into a covered alleyway, expecting to only be there for a maximum of 15 minutes. Was it dangerous to be in an alleyway at night on a rainy day? Yeah probably, but you're a risk taker. You close your umbrella and shake it off a bit, and attempt to dry yourself off as much as you can.

You spot a wooden box and figure you can sit while you wait out the rain, and plop yourself on the surprisingly sturdy wood. You take off your jacket and wring it out, a puddle of rainwater forming beneath it. Slicking back your hair and sighing, you try to take your mind off things by fiddling with your phone but squeal when you realize it was in your back pocket, so now it’s probably soaked. With bated breath you take it out of your pocket and attempt to turn it on, but the screen flickers a few times before displaying ‘WATER HAS ENTERED YOUR DEVICE, PLEASE DRY’ in all caps.

“Well shit,” you mutter under your breath, putting it back into your bag which has dried off a bit and decide to just stare off into the distance at the storm in front of you.

It’s let up a bit but definitely not enough for you to go out just yet. Running your hands through your hair again in frustration, you hear something move behind you. It was a small noise, like paper moving, so you just assume it’s a small rodent and thinking nothing of it, until you hear a louder shuffle.

You don’t dare turn around and decide to stay ignorant, hoping it’s some animal trying to find food and not interested in a human. Then again, it could be a malicious spirit, or worse, a malicious hybrid. No it couldn’t be, There is no way there are just stray spirit hybrids in the city… right? You startle when you hear a small whimper that sounds kind of like… a dog? Oh, that’s right, it could just be a stray dog or cat. Silly you, jumping to conclusions. You hear a small whimper again and you decide to investigate; if it’s an animal maybe you can help. 

You get up from your box and turn around to scan the alleyway. You don’t see anything immediately and just assume it could be hiding, probably to protect itself. 

“Hey… it’s okay I won’t harm you,” you say quietly in an attempt to soothe the potentially hurt animal, but you get no response except a whimper. The animal doesn’t make itself physically known, so you inch yourself further into the alley. It whimpers once more and your eyes track where the sound is coming from. There is a large green dumpster on the left wall of the alley so you approach slowly, thinking it is probably either inside or behind it. “It’s alright sweetie, I promise I just wanna help,” you say again as you reach the front of the dumpster. You peek inside but see nothing. As you are looking around, you see the tips of what look like light brown furry ears, a small cut on the left one, and a fluffy light brown and white tail peeking behind.

You walk to the side of the smelly dumpster, fully expecting to see a dogs body attached to the adorable appendages, but what you find honestly makes you jump. A dog hybrid, it looks like, probably a Bulgae spirit, one of the many friendly spirit hybrids people own as pets, friends, and in some cases, lovers. You have met a few, most of them owned by your friends such as a Gumiho or a Haetae, but you have never seen one be a stray. It’s rare they don’t have owners or don’t live out in their packs on conserved land. The hybrid winces away from you, clearly scared. Upon closer inspection, the hybrid is near soaked in rain, and cuts litter his body, the only thing shielding him from the harsh weather being a thin t shirt, tattered and dirty jeans as well as worn out vans. 

“Hey, it’s okay, I won’t hurt you. I’m just a bit startled to find a hybrid here,” you say honestly, not wanting to scare him further. The Bulgae looks at you and you nearly melt. He is beautiful and his doe eyes are captivating. Who would hurt this poor baby? “Can you speak? What’s your name?” you ask sheepishly. 

If he is a Bulgae, then you are still a bit frightened. Spirit hybrids are friendly for the most part, but Bulgae in particular are known for being prideful and a bit rough. Back in the day, Bulgae were kept to ward off evil spirits and malicious spirits, as they are known for their ferocity and loyalty to their owners. Nowadays, they are friendly, a bit more domesticated if you will, but they have been known to be fierce towards strangers and other hybrids.

“J- Jake…” he says shyly, his puppy dog eyes immediately making you forget how dangerous he could potentially be.

“Are you hurt, Jake? Do you need help? You look like you’ve been beat up.” His eyes light up and he nods quickly, inching a bit closer to you now, indicating you have earned a point of his trust. “Okay, let’s just…” You look back at the side of the alleyway you came in, the rain has finally stopped. “My apartment is only two blocks down. Do you want to come with me just for a bit to dry yourself off and maybe get you something to eat?” You reach out your hand as a friendly gesture, and to see if he accepts your offer. Wait. Why the hell did you just offer him your apartment? You don’t even know this guy and you're just helping him? Have you gone insane? Nevermind that, you’re in too deep now.

He takes your hand in acceptance and you lift him up onto his feet. He isn’t very tall, you notice, and it makes him appear cuter. Cute? Wow you really need to set your mind straight. He brushes himself off a bit, “Thank you, for helping me,” he says a bit awkwardly with a small smile. He even has a cute smile. You shake that thought off quickly.

“It’s not far, just follow me,” you say and turn away from him, trying to turn away the strange thoughts in your head. He trails after you as you walk out of the alley and in the direction of your apartment. “So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened? Why were you in an alleyway all beat up?” You are a bit hesitant to ask but your curiosity gets the best of you. Also, walking in silence for two whole blocks would probably kill you.

“Ah, my old owner kicked me out, he didn’t like me much.” He chuckles a bit but that doesn’t dull the new ache in your heart. What kind of person just throws out their hybrid?

“What? Why? You’re so cu- I mean, you don’t seem like a bad Bulgae?” You cough to cover up your slip up. Embarrassing.

“He didn’t say, but he had multiple hybrids and would frequent the protective service office often because he was...I don’t know how to put it lightly, but he abused us a lot. Both physically and emotionally. It’s why I have all of these cuts.” Jake whines a bit at that last part as his smile fades and his shoulders slouch.

You can feel the rage build in you. What kind of sick person has multiple hybrids and abuses them to the point he kicks them out? You hope he gets caught one day. Hell, maybe when you get the chance, you’ll do something about it yourself. “Well, I’ll take better care of you. I mean, until you find a new home that is.” You quickly correct yourself but you realize you implied you are gonna let him stay longer than a day. Fuck.

Jake’s eyes light up and his smile comes back. “Really? You’ll let me stay until then?” His tail wags behind him furiously. 

“Yeah, of course!” You smile back and continue walking.

After a while of chatting, you walk past a convenience store and stop dead in your tracks, causing Jake to bump into you suddenly.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stop suddenly. It’s just that I saw the convenience store and realized I don’t have much food at home right now. Do you wanna go in and grab some things?” His tail wags once again in interest and he nods his head, so the two of you enter the store. It’s pretty empty, probably because of how late it is. “Go pick out whatever you want, I’m gonna go grab some essentials.” You figured letting him choose his own snacks and food won’t harm your wallet too much.

“Okay! I’ll meet you at the counter when I’m done.” He smiles a full smile this time, and you feel a blush creep onto your cheeks, the heat bearing feelings you don’t need to be feeling.

“Alright I’ll just, erm, be over here.” You try to act cool but it doesn’t work very well. Ever the oblivious he struts over to the sweets section. You are about to head over to the instant food when you spot a rack with various mens clothing. Clothing? In a convenience store? How convenient.

You grab a couple of cheap shirts and shorts, eyeballing the sizes and hoping they fit the hybrid. You also grab some instant noodles and various other groceries and saunter up to the counter. What you don’t expect, however, is the Bulgae to have arms filled with snacks and sweets. 

“Oh wow that’s… a lot,” you say with a giggle. He probably doesn’t have a good concept of money considering how his owner was and after probably have been given nothing a majority of his life, he got excited seeing so much. It’s endearing, so you decide to overlook the price.

“Is it too much? I can put some back!” he says and is about to head back to the aisles when you stop him.

“No it’s fine, I did say get whatever you want after all.” 

The cashier rings up your unusual amount of items for the time of night and the both of you head back on your way to your apartment. 

About 10 minutes later you finally arrive and enter your humble space, groceries in tow. “You don’t have to unload anything, I’ll do it, but here.” You hand him the bag of the clothes you bought. “It’s not much, but I don’t think I have any clothes that will fit you, so I hope these fit.”

His eyes sparkle with appreciation. “Thank you so much for this, and for letting me stay here for a bit, you’re really too kind.” He smiles brighter than ever and without thinking, he bumps his head onto your shoulder with affection. You find it cute and you instinctively pat his head.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to touch you like that I just… did it,” you say.

He quickly says, “No it’s fine I shouldn’t have nudged you in the first place.”

After an awkward pause you guide him to the bathroom.

“Here, you can take a shower, and if you are able to, you can dress your wounds. There is a first aid kit in the cabinet, I don’t want them to leave scars. Also sorry I don’t have any hybrid shampoo, I’ll pick some up tomorrow.” He thanks you briefly again before heading into the bathroom and shutting the door.

You head back into the kitchen and put away your groceries and make a small dinner for the both of you. You cook more than two people would need but if he doesn’t eat it all it can become leftovers. After plating some food and setting it on the coffee table in front of the TV, you hear him exit the bathroom. “Hey Jake I made fo- OH MY GOD.” 

You cover your eyes quickly because when you turn around to face him he is completely naked. No towel. Nothing.

“Why are you naked?! Oh my god, please cover yourself up!” 

Visibly confused, Jake walks a single step closer and tilts his head but you put your hand out. “What? I’m not dirty or wet any more,” he whimpers, He starts to think maybe the reason you’re shunning him is because he still smells bad, or because of all the covered wounds on his body. “Do I still smell? I used your shampoo. I should smell like you.” He, very comedically, sniffs himself and perks his ears up.

“No no that’s not- In a normal household you’re supposed to wear clothes unless- un- just put on some clothes please.” You plead and he retreats back into the bathroom with his new clothes in hand, doing as you say, albeit confused. He comes back out of the bathroom a moment later, this time fully dressed. 

“I’m sorry about earlier, my owner only made us wear clothes when we went out so I thought that’s what was normal.” He pouts sadly and your head wonders out loud.

“He didn’t… do anything inappropriate to you in that state?” you ask with a worried tone. God, you hate this owner guy.

“No! Nothing like that! He never went that far, he just thought that animals are naked, so we have to be naked too, but I guess he realized that people would question him, so we wore clothes only when outside, or when services showed up.” You couldn’t help but take his hand into yours.

“I won’t let anybody treat you like that anymore, okay? You’re safe here.” You smile. You can tell he has the urge to give physical affection, which you assume is alright. “You don’t have to be serious around me, I don’t mind affection.” Almost instantly he rubs his head and ears against your shoulder again, and wags his tail excitedly. 

“Thank you, again.” He says and licks an innocent stripe onto your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You decide not to say anything.

“It’s okay. Um, anyway, this couch is a pullout so this is where you will sleep but we can eat and watch a movie first to settle in a bit.” You pet his head affectionately. You take his silence as a yes and you settle onto the couch with him as you pull up a movie and he starts to eat his plate of food.

“This is delicious!” he mumbles, his mouth full of food. You giggle at how adorable he is and press play for some random movie you chose. Jake eats his food fairly quick and settles onto your lap, his tail brushing your leg. You try to pay no mind to the new warm body on your lap, but it’s kind of hard. You’ve been alone in your apartment for so long it’s weird to suddenly have an affectionate hybrid occupy your space, but it’s a nice kind of weird.

Jake falls asleep in your lap and after an emotionally draining day, you too find yourself dozing off when you start to hear him… moan? What kind of sound is he making? He is twitching a bit in his sleep and you can’t really tell what he is doing. He moans, this time a bit louder and it shocks you still. Is he… humping your leg? His hips start to twitch almost incessantly and you feel your face get very very hot. Oh my god, you have a hybrid, in your lap, having a wet dream.

What are you supposed to do in this situation? Wake him up? You don’t want to embarrass the poor guy. While contemplating what to do he stirs awake and lifts his head. There is a small pool of drool on your thigh where he was resting his head and all of a sudden, he shoots up.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He starts rambling and panicking and you're about to tell him it’s okay when he runs off the couch and into the bathroom. You follow after him and you hear small sobs from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Jake? It’s okay, you’re okay, it happens!” It in fact, does not happen. But he is a Bulgae and all hybrids have sexual instincts they can’t help, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.

“I’m so sorry I-” He chokes through a sob, “It won’t happen again, I won’t do it again, never again, I’m sorry.” He sounds so panicked it sends a rush of guilt and worry through you. How much did that owner fuck him up?

“Jake, it’s okay. It’s normal, I promise. Are you okay? Can I come in?” After a few seconds of silence you hear the lock on the door click, and you slowly enter the bathroom to see Jake on the floor in tears. “Hey shhh it’s okay, you’re okay.” You are about to touch him when he backs away.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… your scent is so strong here and my rut wasn’t supposed to happen for a while. Usually I suppress it because it’s a bad thing but-” 

You shop him. “Bad thing? Sexual instincts are not a bad thing, Jake. Did your owner tell you that too?” He nods his head and wipes the snot and tears from his face. “You’re okay, what you're going through is normal, okay?” 

“H-hurts…” he says quietly and you see his hips buck a bit onto the floor. You didn’t notice earlier, trying to focus on his face but you look down and you see his problem, very prominent in his shorts. “I can’t- it hurts,” he says again.

You’re now visibly flustered. How do you help a hybrid in this situation? “What, uh, what can I do?” You ask, feeling like you know the answer but too afraid to say it. You want to help him but you just met him, and don’t want to take advantage of him in any way.

He thrusts his hips onto the ground, chasing the friction. “Please help…me.” He says shyly, his face flushed red and his ears furrowed back in frustration.

“Jake, I don’t know… Are you sure?” You chew on your lip nervously, if he really wants to, you are more than willing to help. You can already feel your arousal building and dampening your underwear. “If you really want me to help you I will baby.” You don’t know where the pet name comes from but he doesn’t seem to mind, the blush on his cheeks deepening to a shade of red. You didn’t even think his face could get any redder.

Morally, you should say no. You should stop where you are but you have honestly felt a deep attraction to him since meeting. You want to help Jake, take care of him, and if that means getting fucked by him literally the first day of meeting then so be it. You grab his hand and lead him to stand up, you see his very visible hard on, straining against his pants, aching to be freed.

“Thank you.” He says a bit sheepishly, obviously he didn’t think this would happen either but he is grateful for you helping him out. You have provided a home, albeit a temporary one, and now you are taking care of his rut. This is the most attention he has ever gotten in his life. He wants to tell you that it’s okay, you aren’t taking advantage of him, that he feels something a bit deeper developing in his heart for your kindness, but his brain is too closed with lust and the need to fill you with his pups.

You gently guide Jake into your bedroom, leading him to the bed and sitting him down. “Okay so… how do you want this?” Jake very cutely tilts his head to the side and perks up his ears in confusion like a real dog and you feel your heart explode with cute aggression. All of a sudden you want to throw him around like a ragdoll, but in a hot, sexual way, not in a ‘I want to hurt you’ way. Jake almost as quickly realizes what you mean and regains his composure,

“I like uh, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be on the receiving end…” He trails off, his face and tone clearly showing his embarassment. With the way heat rushes straight to your core, you don’t mind this idea one bit. You want to take care of him, but you don’t want the awkward tension to last any longer so you decide to take charge.

“You want me to make you feel better? Does puppy want to be taken care of?” You very slowly sink to your knees in between his own, placing your hands gently a top his thighs and rubbing soothing circles, letting him know it’s okay, that this is okay. His eyes darken as he tilts his chin down to look at you. Jake can feel his cock throbbing in his pants, straining against the harsh material and aching to be touched.

You lean your head against his knee, just inches away from where he wants you most. It’s not to tease him but to calm his nerves a bit and yet he can feel his cock jump at the closeness. “Want you… mommy…” He says it under his breath, barely even a whisper and yet it sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. You have to be dripping by now. “Please mommy, want your mouth on my cock, wanna fill your mouth.” The Bulgae juts his hips a bit, beckoning for your face to come closer, or anything to come closer to where he needs you the most.

You lift one of your hands from his thigh and brush over his sensitive bulge, stroking it softly. You inch a little bit closer, your breath now fanning over his sweatpants and now you see it. He isn’t wearing underwear. You didn’t even realize you had none to give him, but it’s visible he isn’t wearing any at all due to the small stain of precum adorning the spot where his head is. You brush your thumb over the spot and Jake shudders in pleasure. You mouth over the area, suckling lightly over his clothed shaft. “S- stop teasing. Need you please.” The urgency and voice crack causes you to moan and Jake involuntarily bucks his hips against your mouth.

You pull away and wrap your fingertips around his waistband, gently tugging the material down his hips. Jake lifts his pelvis to accommodate you and finally his cock springs free. You honestly gasp. He isn’t very big, but he more than makes up for it in girth. You take his heavy length into your hand and he gasps, his angry red tip leaking precum and doubling as a nice lube. You waste no time, not wanting to prolong his pain any longer so you lick from the bottom of his shaft up to his head, taking it into your mouth. Jake sighs, relieved that the pain from his rut is going away and now turning into pure bliss, your hot tongue gliding through his slit and lapping up his precum nicely.

Taking him in deeper, you start to hollow out your cheeks to enhance his pleasure, bobbing up and down slowly and carefully maneuvering your tongue along his veins. Jake slowly starts bucking his hips into your mouth and a hand reaches to grip your hair. It’s not a harsh tug but it’s enough to send you reeling with arousal. You can tell he is close, his cock is throbbing and his balls are swollen with cum, but he pulls you off of him.

“Wait, can I cum inside of you? Wanna breed Mommy.” Jake pouts and you groan aloud.

“Fuck yes, please fuck me.” You get up from your knees and rid yourself of your clothing, while Jake takes off his top. “How do you want to fuck me, baby?” Sensually you crawl on top of him, his cock is so close to your entrance you can feel its heat near your own. You hadn’t noticed before, probably because you were preoccupied, but Jake was drooling everywhere, his pupils blown out from arousal. His large hands hold either side of your hips to keep you steady atop him.

“Wait, let me prep you. Wanna finger you and taste you first.” You swear this Bulgae will be the death of you.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You expect him to flip you over, but instead he guides your hips forward. He inches you further up his torso until your entrance sits directly above his mouth.

“Sit.” Jake doesn’t command it, but more whines it, like he is begging to eat you out. Instead of responding you decide to slowly lower yourself onto his tongue. You didn’t know until he started to lap at your heat, but it seems like Bulgae have more similar traits to dogs than you initially thought. His mouth is producing an inhuman amount of saliva, as if he is hungry for the taste of you. It’s enough to lube you up easily and it’s lewd the way his mouth sounds, lapping up your juices.

After sufficiently stretching you onto his tongue, he decides it’s time to go further so he brings one of his long digits towards your hole, entering just up to the second knuckle and curling against your pleasure spot. You unexpectedly feel your orgasm approaching and as if sensing it, he adds two more fingers to your now soaked heat. Two more thrusts of his fingers and you’re coming, your orgasm pulsing and probably one of the strongest ones you’ve ever had.

Jake pulls you off his face and flips you onto your back, unexpectedly he kisses you passionately. You are thrown off guard by such an intimate gesture but you say nothing of it, basking in the wet heat of his mouth, and the gentleness of the kiss. He pulls away all too quickly, “Wanna fuck you Mommy, please wanna breed you.” You can feel his throbbing length against the inside of your thigh, not close enough for your liking.

“Fuck me Jake, wanna feel you fill me up.”

Slowly he enters you, stretching you further than his fingers ever could. He groans into your neck before finally bottoming out, a whimper leaving his lips. “Feels so good, I could cum right now.” You don’t have time to respond before he pulls out and slams his hips into you. You don’t get to register anything that’s happened before he starts fucking into your hole relentlessly, the tip of his cock hitting your pleasure spot over and over, sending waves of warm, comforting pleasure throughout your body. You can feel every single thrust of his cock from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. It’s like he was made to fuck you.

“Not gonna last, nng!” His thrusts get sloppy as his pleasure heightens, now a whimpering, whiny mess on top of you. Jake lifts one of your legs over his shoulder to go even deeper, if that were even possible. “Wan’ fill you with my pups, Mommy please.” He is barely garbling out real words, all of them slurring together in a lust drunk haze.

Already you feel your second orgasm approaching, this time white hot from the overstimulation and how perfect his thick cock feels inside of you. “Come inside baby, fill me up, go ahead.”

As if he were waiting for your permission, you feel his balls empty into you, endless ropes of hot cum filling you up to the brim and spilling out onto the sheets below. He finishes with loud moans and words you can’t make out and soon you finish, clenching around him and coming with a cry. You look up and he has tears in his eyes. “Feel better baby?” You ask gently as he collapses next to you, clearly exhausted. He grabs your waist and pulls you against him, taking in your scent.

“Yes, I couldn’t say it earlier, but thanks for taking care of me. I know we just met but it means so much to me.” Jake places a gentle kiss against your temple and you feel your heart shatter. 

How are you ever gonna get rid of this puppy?

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

hello hello i’m so glad you’re feeling better!🥹

i have another cute idea!! can i get headcanons of hualian being parents/father figures to child reader who’s just a ball of love? they admire and look up to them both, too! what would hualian be like?

i saw in your request page that you don’t do adult x child, and i genuinely don’t know if this counts. if it does, im so sorry!

once again, im glad you’re feeling better, no one likes to be sick!

☀️ anon

Parental Headcanons

HuaLian with Child!reader

*THIS IS NOT HUALIAN X READER!!! THESE ARE PARENTAL HEADCANONS

Sorry if it took a minute, and no this doesn't count😙 because you aren't asking me to ship them with a kid. Just parental Headcanons so you're fine🖤🖤

Takes place after book ends

I don't quite remember but I could've sworn Shi Qingxuan was in the human realm by the end of the book because of cough cough beefleaf

Ignore grammar mistakes

____________________________________

When Xie Lian and Hua Cheng find you they immediately take you in.

Well Xie Lian immediately takes you in

He holds you up like a stray cat and asks "Can we please keep him!?"

Hua Cheng can't say no to Xie Lian so he says yes

Hua Cheng quickly warms up to you as well.

He can't not like you. You're a ball of love and all you want is affection and praise

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng try to look into where or what happened to your parents but find nothing

That's fine they'll take care of you!

You're still a human child though so you definitely have some growing to do

Because of this Hua Cheng has started making food

As much as he loves Xie Lian and would eat his food any day, you cannot

Xie Lian loves his domestic male wife though so it's fine.

They love on you a lot

Xie Lian likes to dress you up in fancy clothes and hairpins

He loves taking care of you, brushing your hair and putting you to bed

Xie Lian has never been able to ignore children especially children who remind him of himself or Hua Cheng

Xie Lian takes you up to the heavens sometimes

You've made friends with Feng Xin, and Mu Qing

Feng Xin tries to teach you how to fight and martial arts but Mu Qing won't have it.

He says you're too little to deal with that yet.

Mu Qing didn't have the best childhood so even if your parent is Hua Cheng he absolutely spoils you

In the human realm you've made friends with Shi Qingxuan

You hang around Shi Qingxuan a lot actually

Xie Lian hasn't seen the man happy in such a long time so whenever you need babysat he leaves you with Shi Qingxuan

For your human life and Shi Qingxuan's human life you two will be very close

Hua Cheng will take you around ghost city sometimes

Also sicks you on He Xuan sometimes.

He Xuan pretends to be absolutely tired of you but he does like you

Carries you around and lets you play around in his waters or with the ghost fishies

The ghosts love you, if not more then their Chengzhu

They've taken a liking to calling you Little Chengzhu

While Xie Lian loves you very much, Hua Cheng absolutely spoils you rotten

He'll give you anything you want, and he continues to do so

Even with anything at your fingertips you remain a ball of love and stay humble so Hua Cheng can't help it

You've gained many friends but you've also gained some enemies

You're the adopted kid of the two most powerful men of course you're going to be a target.

Not that you have to worry. Xie Lian or Hua Cheng are always by your side

Hua Cheng will kill for you and has killed for you

🤷

Adopting you has also given them many cute moments

For instance, when you were trying to get Xie Lian's attention once. You had been patting on his legs and tugging softly on his robes

Xie Lian was going to answer you in a moment he really was but he was trying to do something

Immediately pays attention to you when you had called him 'Baba'

Tears up

Is so happy, he picks you up and runs to Hua Cheng.

"Listen San Lang! Tell San Lang what you called me!"

"Baba"

Grins from ear to ear. Xie Lian is so happy with this and even happier when you take up calling Hua Cheng 'Baba' too.

Another cute moment is when you pick up drawing.

You tend to copy your parents and you recently have decided to copy Hua Cheng's artistic practices

You draw them a lot of pictures and they get hung up on the walls of Paradise Manor

They weren't expecting you to have so many of their traits because well- technically you aren't theirs but you've picked up their traits anyways

Like Hua Cheng's bad writing.

Xie Lian immediately puts you in calligraphy lesson with your baba. No way is he going to let that bad writing be a habit

You've taken up Xie Lian's bad cooking.

You like to make "food" with mud, rocks, and twigs.

They find you cute anyways.

You ended up with the best parents

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng love you so much and the plan to be the best parents they can be.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Platonic Stobin Mind-Reading AU Part 2

Part 1

The house is quiet when Steve slips in. It always is, now.

He toes his shoes off, unable to bend over enough to untie the laces. His ribs protest the slight hunch of his shoulders, stomach roiling in queasy warning to not curl in further.

The house is quiet, but Steve can almost feel the warmth of an arm around his shoulders. And he doesn’t feel alone. He looks around the foyer, almost waiting for his parents, or hell, the ghost of Hopper to appear. Nothing does.

He’s leaving smatterings of blood and mud with every step, speckling the white carpet in signs of life as he flicks on every lightswitch on his way toward the stairs. He pauses at the bottom, staring up at the insurmountable obstacle to his bed. With a sigh, he turns his back on the climb and stumbles his way toward the couch in the living room, collapsing down into it. Blood is already smearing into the velvety green of its cushions. He ignores the little voice in his head that sounds alarmingly like his Mother, berating him for leaving so many signs of life in her pristine house for lifeless dolls.

Steve falls asleep, alone in his empty house. The comforting weight is still around his shoulders.

It’s still dark when he wakes up, gasping around a nightmare he doesn’t remember having. His stomach roils with fear, like he’s still down in the Russian bunker, begging to keep his fingernails attached to his body. There’s no more comforting weight across his shoulders. He still doesn’t feel alone.

Steve leans across the couch and vomits. There’s very little left in him, popcorn dissolved into green stomach acid. The carpet’s beginning to look like Christmas come early. If she comes back, his Mother will not be pleased.

He doesn’t get up to clean it, exhaustion hitting hard even as the fear persists. He falls back asleep, wakes up mid-nightmare to a pounding at the door.

He stares at the ceiling, stuck still half in nightmare with the pounding of demodog feet echoing through the bunker where Robin and Steve are still tied back to back, her head pressed to the back of his own, Dustin’s screams filling the air as Steve writhes desperately to free himself and protect the kid.

Someone is still pounding at his door. He stumbles off the couch, ribs screaming, head spinning, ears buzzing, eyes half closed against the light as he opens the door, unable to even see who’s in front of him.

“Dingus, where have you been?” they say. Steve forces his eyes open wider past the light and pulsing of his head, willing his swollen eyes to make out Robin’s face. “I’ve been knocking for like five minutes! I was starting to think you were dead! And I was getting so scared that you’d gone off in the woods to die. Cats do that, you know.”

Steve blinks at her, struggling to keep up with her tirade. “Huh?”

Robin rolls her eyes. She steps into the house, making to shove past him where he’s blocking her entry. “Oh just let me in, it’s so hot out–”

She stops talking when her elbow hits his forearm. Stops moving too. Steve stares past her into the empty driveway, wisps of her hair tickling his cheek.

There’s relief coursing through him, thoughts running through his mind that can’t be his own–Thank god he’s alright, I thought he died, what would I have done? Thank god–can’t believe I care about Steve the hair Harrington enough to show up at his house uninvited, what kind of bizarro world are we living in, this is weirder than that flesh monster I swear to god–

Steve stumbles back, spine connecting painfully with the doorknob as the door swings back loudly into the wall with the force of his weight. Robin’s looking at him, eyes wide. There’s a bruise blooming on her cheekbone. Even past the confusion, he’s overwhelmed with the relief that she’s here, standing in front of him, whole and alive.

She reaches her hand out slowly, like he’s a stray cat that could be spooked at any moment. Her fingers latch onto his forearm, curling around it tight enough that her fingers dig into his flesh.

–that supposed to be what a demodog looks like? Dustin was really underselling it, I think I’d take Russian’s any day, aww Dingus was worried about me, wait wait wait, how do I know that he, did he sleep in that stupid outfit? where are his parents? why can I see–

Steve wrenches his arm free, ignoring the stinging of Robin’s fingernails scraping across his flesh. They stare at each other. Steve can feel himself breathing too fast. Wisps of Robin’s hair are sticking to her forehead with sweat. The door is still open.

“Dingus?”

“Good thing you’ve gotta breathe or I don’t think I’d ever get a word in,” Steve says without thought.

Robin brings her hand up to her mouth, eyes widening impossibly further. “Were you thinking about the demodogs?”

“Were you thinking that us being friends is weirder than the mind flayer?”

Robin drops her hand and smiles. “We’re friends?” she asks, voice chipper. “Wait, no! What is going on!”

They stare at each other some more. Robin looks manic, like she’s trying to pop her eyes out of her skull with the force of her stare. Steve, without looking away, reaches behind himself for the knob still pressed into his spin and slowly closes the door.

“Did you have a nightmare last night and throw up?” Robin nods. “Did your Dad have his arm around your shoulders?” Nod. “Well, shit.”

He finally turns away, stumbling back to the couch and gently settling down, leaving enough room for Robin beside him.

They settle like two, hunched quotations, knees settled together, hair brushing with how closely they’re eying each other.

“Anything?” Robin asks.

Steve hums, squinting his eyes with the focus of his concentration. Her eyes are blue, unlined but all but the barest remnants of smudges from her usual make-up. She looks a wreck. He’s pretty sure he loves her.

Are you excited right now?” he asks because he feels it bubbling up his throat, like someone’s just barely holding back a deluge of words, and it’s not him.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes up toward her head. “How are you not?” she demands, pulling her hands away from her knees to gesticulate in the scant air separating their bodies. “This is like superpower territory, Steve! We can read minds!”

Steve swallows around the excitement, feels his own warmth curl up in his chest at her joy. “So far only each others.”

Robin jolts, hands coming to clutch at the fabric across her chest, fist tight. “Oh,” she breathes. “Is that what you’re feeling?”

There’s something else clogging up his throat now. Not words. Tears, maybe. Steve looks down at his own bloody hands, trying to make words where only feelings exist, then remembers he doesn’t have to. He reaches out, snatches her hand, and lets himself feel.

“Why are you picturing us making Thanksgiving dinner together?” she asks, laughing even as tears bubble out of her eyes. Always a sympathetic crier, his own begin to well.

“We’re like, stuck together now, right?” He lets go of her hand, gets rid of the distracting feedback loop of two minds thinking around each other. “That like makes us–family?”

Robin sobs and launches herself into his arms. Unfortunately, the pressure on his ribs is violent enough to almost make him vomit again. Maybe he makes a noise of pain, or maybe she gets some sense of the way his vision is whiting out from pain through his thoughts, but she scrabbles backwards instantly, hands shuffling her further and further away until her back hits the armrest at the other side of the couch.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I just got caught up in the moment, and forgot you’re totally fucked, and dingus! Shouldn’t you be in the hospital? Because all I saw there was a white light, and that doesn’t mean you’re dying, does it? Did I kill you?”

Steve laughs but it comes out more as a cough as agony falls back into the bearable threshold of pain. “I’m fine, Robin,” he says, eyes squeezed closed as he eases himself back into a fully seated position. “I got checked out in the ambulance, same as you.”

Robin, uncharacteristically, doesn’t respond. When Steve opens his eyes, all signs of tears are gone from her face, replaced with a look that clearly shows how done with his bullshit he feels. “And they told you that you were fine?” she demands.

“This all just needs to heal on its own,” he says, gesturing from his face down his torso.

Robin scoots back over to poke his cheek with her finger. He can hear her thinking about the likelihood of him being full of shit, the pros and cons of kidnapping him via her Dad’s SUV. Steve slaps her finger away, but whatever she must’ve gleaned from his own mind satisfied her enough that she doesn’t make a move toward the door or the phone.

She eyes him up and down, gaze traveling down his bloody form, to the splotches he’s left on the couch, and the slowly-developing stains on the carpet, grimacing in disgust.

“Okay, Dingus,” she says, clapping her hands sharply enough to make his ears ring. “Game plan time. You need a shower and a change of clothes pronto. Then–have you eaten?”

“I’ll be in trouble if I don’t clean this up.” He’s too worn out to even bother gesturing at the carnage surrounding them, much less bending around his ribs to scrub.

A furrow forms between Robin’s eyebrows as she contemplates him, mouth pursed like she’s trying to solve complex algebra. Or no, she’smart enough for that to be a breeze. So more like she’s trying to figure out how to scoop his brain out and blow on it until it works better.

“Where are your cleaning supplies?” she asks.

“Robin–”

“No. You’re hurt, and I’m fine. Go take a shower.” Like she can sense him looking, her hand jumps up to cover the singular bruise on her cheekbone. “It’s not the same. Where are the cleaning supplies?”

Her words are so harsh, that he speaks before thinking: “down the hallway in the closet.”

She jumps up, walking with her usual frenetic energy as Steve tries and fails to will himself to get up and stop her. It’s only a few moments after he hears the closet door click open that she shouts, “go shower!”

He goes.

Steve has to peel his uniform off. Mud and puke and blood have dried and merged to his skin. Scabs open where he pulls until he can leave the whole thing crumpled into the smallest ball he can manage in the trash can, salvaging only his nametag as a keepsake, wondering idly if Robin will switch him.

The shower hurts, but he feels divinely clean as he bends over just enough to shuffle into clean sweatpants and an old Hawkins swim team shirt from sophomore year, washed and worn enough to be soft against his skin. He doesn’t put products in his hair, doesn’t even brush it, all remaining energy used in stumbling down the stairs to stop Robin from overworking herself needlessly.

The air smells like a janitor’s closet, enough concoctions mixed together on his Mother’s carpet to wage chemical warfare. Robin’s on her hands and knees, scrubbing ferociously with a scrub brush at the grout between tiles at the entryway. Steve steps around the couch, peering down at the carpet, off-color with cleaner instead of his various bodily fluids. The couch is similarly immaculate, velvety cushions rubbed roughly against the grain from Robin’s ruthless cleaning.

“I threw away your shoes,” Robin calls as she gathers up the cleaning supplies surrounding her and stumbles her way back toward the closet. “There was a concerning amount of blood pooled in the soles, Dingus. Ain’t no way that was all coming out.”

Steve looks around at his clean living room again. All this work, and all he can feel from Robin is pleased satisfaction. Steve feels like he’s going to cry.

“I threw away my uniform.”

Robin laughs. “It’s not like we’re gonna need them anymore.”

Steve pulls the nametag out of his pocket. The stupid anchor is flecked with blood but otherwise it’s pristine. He holds it out to Robin when she troops back into the room.

“You can be me,” he says.

Her eyes light up as she takes it and immediately affixes it onto the front of her shirt. She shuffles back to the side of the couch where she’d tucked her backpack and riffles through it, murmuring quietly enough that he can’t quite make it out. She gives a cute little Ah-ha! When she finds whatever she’s looking for before skipping back over to him, grin crooked it’s so big.

“We can trade.” And there, tucked in her palm is her own, slightly charred name tag. She pins it to his shirt, pricking him with the pointy end before finally settling it in place. “You can be Robin, and I can be Steve!”

It settles easy around his shoulders, like he really can take a step back. Be someone else. Breathe. “I’m Robin,” he murmurs.

She smacks his chest over the nametag, gentle enough to barely hurt.

“Well Robin, what’s for lunch?”

They eat sandwiches in front of the TV. Robin complains about his movie collection, even as she jumps up and down excitedly and puts in Grease. It’s comfortable, easy to forget who’s dead, and who’s injured, and how fucked up their brains are now. It’s between The Breakfast Club and Fast Times that Robin gasps, sitting bolt upright and slapping his thigh.

“Truth serum, Steve! It was truth serum!”

“What was?”

“They wanted to open our minds!”

Steve, up until this point, had thought that was obvious, didn’t realize that for once she was trailing just a bit behind him in the obvious revelations category. “Yeah, and they did.” Robin’s nodding like she can’t stop. He puts his palm flat on her head and holds it still. “Opened them so wide we swallowed each others.”

Steve can’t tell who’s thinking it, but suddenly he's picturing two brains in horrible sailor outfits and terrible mouths that hit a little too close to the demogorgon. One’s mouth is open wide enough to eat the other whole. Then they’re laughing, uproariously, like they’re watching the same funny little show, like the television hasn’t turned to static in front of them.

“Now we can’t keep any of the truths from each other,” Robin says at the same time she’s thinking about that embarrassing crush she’d had on her seventh grade teacher.

In a bid to even the playing field, Steve thinks about little Sally Perkins who he’d liked so much in fourth grade that he’d smashed a grasshopper into her hair and had to miss out on the rest of recess. She’d never talked to him again.

Robin laughs but still shuffles away so his fingers aren’t touching her scalp anymore. Her thoughts flit away, but her hazy contentment lingers.

Steve gets up to switch out the movies, brain buzzing away. “Okay so I feel what you feel, right?” he asks, not waiting for a response. “And I can hear what you’re thinking when we touch.”

“You can hear it?”

Steve starts up the movie and sits back in his place on the couch. Robin looks horrified by this. “You can’t?”

“No!” she shouts, forgetting herself enough to smack her hand into his shoulder, jostling his numerous injuries. Robin grimaces, “Sorry, it’s just, you can just hear what I’m thinking? You can’t like, see anything?”

“You can see things?” Steven demands.

“Holy shit!” Robin bounces up on her knees and just keeps doing it, like a kid excited to open presents on Christmas. “Do you know what this means?”

Steve looks over at her, eyebrow furrowed. “That you’re a–girl?”

“No!” Robin stops bouncing. “I mean, yeah. But no, Steve. What the fuck?”

“I just mean that’s like the only difference between us, right? What else could it be?”

He can feel amusement bubbling up in her stomach, but Robin just stares at him, like she’s too stunned to laugh. “I just meant that some smarty pants scientist should like study us. Because like, we’re proof that some people think differently right? Me all in words and you all in these fancy schmancy pictures! That has nothing to do with our genders, Harrington. That shit’s made up!”

Steve doesn’t know how he feels about being studied by scientists. He’d heard about mini Byers time with those Upside Down quacks and wasn’t sure he was interested in his own stay. It would be nice to have someone who knew what they were doing to help them navigate whatever minefield they’d found themselves in but not at the cost of Robin’s safety. But if they just need a smarty pants who think they know everything then–”Henderson’s smart.”

“You want to call your children?” Robin asks, laughing.

“Think about it!” he replies, slapping the couch. “The lab people are all sketchy, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to be locked up without sunlight for the next hundred years.”

“Okay, yeah but–”

“Your parents aren’t in the know, and I’m practically an orphan. Hopper died.” Steve cuts out, choked up over the thought just like he had been in the mall parking lot when he’d first been told. Robin squeezes his calf. “That takes Joyce out of the running since she's grieving and shit. That just leaves the kids!”

“What about Nan–”

“Things are still kind of weird with Nancy and Jonathan, Rob!” he says, running his fingers through his hair and pulling sharp enough to burn. “If we have to, sure, call her, but I don’t know if this counts as the kind of life or death scenario I would do that in.”

Robin sighs, folding over until her head’s on his thigh, stomach pressed into his calves. “Can we call him tomorrow?” she asks, voice muffled by the cotton of his sweatpants. “My head’s killing me and that kid is so shrill.”

Steve runs his fingers through her hair, coming it back from her face. His fingers come in contact with her forehead long enough to get a quick burst of–feels nice, I wonder if this is why all the girls liked him, or if it was all those rumors I heard about his mouth, eww eww gross don’t think about–before her thoughts cut out. “Tomorrow,” he agrees.

They settle in to keep vegetating, Steve slumping further into the arm rest, Robin turning her head and wrapping her arms around his calf. The quiet lasts for ten more minutes before Steve just has to ask, “What do you mean gender is made up?”

Robin cackles.

[stxrrgirlz]

🌙 ❜ ─ Experiments

A/n: sorry it took me so long to post this 😣 I didn’t expect to write so much. anyway I hope you enjoy it’s a bit different from my normal content should I do more smut?

Ot8!

Wc: 2.0k

» stray kids + kinks

Warnings: i can never seem to get all the warnings please tell me if I miss anything, Praise kink,P in v, name calling ,oral,unprotected sex, role play ,Dress up,Degrading, blindfold,bondage,chocking, overstimulation,orgasm denial, tit play, boob job

MDNI

Not proof read

Genre: Smut, pure smut no plot

Bangchan ༉‧₊˚✧ + Praise kink

↳ I fully BELIVE this man has a praise kink!!!

I Can imagine this man on his knees eating you out like it’s his religion! Mumbling sweet praises into your clit vibrations from his words bringing you so close to the edge. He definitely loves giving more than receiving.

Chan quickly pulls his fingers in and out hitting all of the right spots with how thick and long they are. Adding another finger at your needy wines only turning him on more “ channie please faster” is what you say being on the edge of your first orgasm of the night. You can feel the coils inside your stomach tighten. You barely have time to warn Chan of your realize before you hit your release. Chan pulls away to admire your fucked out expression before going in again this time with his tongue as his hands move to your thighs to keep them still.“ stay still for me princess” Chan says as his grip on your thighs tighten even more to hold you in place. Quickly inserting his tongue in and out from between your puffy and soaked pussy.“ Gonna cum channie” you respond as your hips stutter tightening your grip on his black hair. Hips thrusting up hopeless as you chase your release. “cum for me princess” are the only words that come out of chan’s mouth before you let out a loud moan and your juices gush all over his face. Chan quickly lapping up your fluids before pulling away to look at your fucked out face and your puffy pussy. Quickly littering kisses all over the sides of your thighs before pulling himself up from between your legs.

Lee know ༉‧₊˚✧ + Roleplay

↳ This Man will shamelessly dress you up as a school girl or a cute cat!

I Can imagine him dressing you up as the cutest cat ever the little cat ears on top of your head and the tail attached just make him ecstatic. Will definitely make you call him master in bed will also tease you a lot!!

The Tip of his flushed head teased your puffy folds. The collar around your neck feeling a little to tight as you yearn for lee know to be inside you. “Beg for it princess” is what comes out of lee knows mouth even though he wants to be inside you just as much as you want him inside you. He isn’t going to give up so easily though especially when he’s your master. He owns you after all. “ p-please master” you whimper hoping Lee know will take your lazy attempt at begging. Thankfully he does ignore it finally plunging his tip into your tight walls. Squeeze around him oh so deliciously as a groan escapes his mouth at the feeling of your walls. Your hands grip onto his back in an lazy attempt to pull him closer to you. Your cat ears shaking oh so slightly when he starts moving. So sensitive already you know your not going to last long. “ faster master please” are the words the escaped your mouth before you could feel him thrusting in and out of you aggressively. He knows your close when your gummy walls squeeze around him. “ cum for me my beautiful kitty” is what he says before your juices gush all over he lower abdomen. Lee know finishing quickly after at the feeling of your walls pulsating.

Changbin ༉‧₊˚✧ + bondage

This is more of an dirty secret because he’s to scared to actually ask you. Definitely watches porn videos so when he does ask you he knows what to do. The reason he’s so in love with the idea is because of how big and strong he is he gets turned on of the thought of you being restrained.

I can imagine the nervous look on his face when he asks you to try it with him. Though he is absolutely esthetic when you agree. The pretty red ropes adorned you body tied tightly around ever curve and crevice. Changbin watching silently from above. His dick leaking pre-cum at your adorable state. Slick dripping out of your cunt at desperation or bedding changbin inside you. Changbin slowly leans down locking your lips into his own. “ you look so pretty for me baby” a moan leaving your lips at the praise. He lines up the tip of his dick with your soaking entrance. As groan living his plush lips as he sinks into you. The restraints keeping you from thrusting your hips into his. “ faster please binnie” is what you say before changbin is more than happy to grant your wish. Hips thrusting in and out of you at an ungodly speed considering how tight your walls are sucking him in. You can feel the coils in your stomach tighting. Changbin feels your walls tighting only making him harder at the feeling knowing you about to release. “ please binnie I wanna cum” Changbin grants you wish by Angleing his hips and grabbing at your hips adorned with the red rope. First the coil in your stomach snaps changbin quickly releasing right after you.

Hyunjin ༉‧₊˚✧ + blindfold

He is a man of arts. I know he will love blindfolding you during sex. He likes it because you don’t get to see his beautiful face earning more whimpers from you because of him. He’s also so Gentle with you. He also won’t mind being the one with the blindfold on.

His big hands snake around your head to tie the blind fold over your eyes. Before pulling back and leaving a kiss on your lips. His fingers slip into your needy pussy begging. Allowing you to adjust to his thick fingers“ your so needy for me doll” Hyunjin says. Hyunjin slowly starts moving his hands in and out of you tight pussy. Moving his thumb to rub over your sensitive clit. Shivering at the touch. Gasps and high pitched moans come from your mouth the feeling already being to much. “Please jinnie” you say more despite for him than before. He pulls away fingers realizing from your clit. You whine at the loss of please. You try to bring your hands down to find him but to no avail you can’t see you find him. You whine wanting the blindfold off more than ever. Hyunjin quite’s you with a kiss “ gonna make you cum on my cock baby” he says before teasing his tip at your folds. He slips in your arousal making lube for his thick length. Your hands move down to grab his biceps almost missing them by an inch. Hyunjin starts slow before speeding up chasing his own release not forgetting how tight your walls are hugging him. “ gonna cum baby” he says before he releases his load inside you. You following quickly behind.

han ༉‧₊˚✧ + breasts

Not a kink, but loves anything to do with your tits! He’s going to squeeze them 24/7 and will definitely lick them to satisfy himself. Will have absolutely no shame while doing it too. Please give this man a boob job

Han is on his knees begging you to let him touch your tits. He know that you would enjoy it just as much as he would. You finally give in not being able to say no to his adorable face. Hans hands slowly unbutton your blouse moving it to the side while he undoes you bra. Trying the keep himself from completely ripping it off you. The cold air in the room hitting your sensitive buds. You letting out a soft whine. Hans warm hands Land on your plump tits slowly massaging your tits. Han stands up to pull his sweatpants down before moving down again to position his flushed cock right in between your tits. You squeeze your tits together teasing Han with temptation. He moans so ready to ruin you already. You slowly move your tits back and fourth on his cock his pre-cum being used as lube for your tits. “ fuck y/n feels so good” Han says. The sight of his sweaty hairs sticking to his forehead is to much for you as you reach a hand down to rub your own clit feeling the slick already coating your fingers. Han takes control rubbing himself between you faster than before. “ s-so close” Han says. You hum in agreement speeding up your own fingers at the same time. You release with a lewd moan Han following closely behind.

Felix ༉‧₊˚✧ + overstimulation

Poor baby doesn’t even mean to do it! He’s mostly just lost in pleasure between your thighs and doesn’t realise how you’ve already had your 3rd orgasm if the night!!!

Your hands grip tighter on his dark locks. Puffy pussy too sensitive from the last orgasm you had just minutes ago. You try too push him away telling him that it’s “ to much” for you. However felix is in his own world lost in between your plush thighs. His tongue doing oh so well at hitting every spot inside you making sure to suck on your abused clit. The tight grip you have on his hair only makes him go faster. His own hips rutting into the bed for a release. The pain from the overstimulation was slowly turning into the most delicious pleasure the pain feeling almost to good. You knew that if Felix kept going you were going to hit your release for 3rd time. “ please faster lixie so close” you whine. High pitched moans falling from your lips filling up the room. You could hear the squelching sound of your wet pussy producing more juice by the second. Felix darts his tongue inside you again before finally tipping you over the edge. You let out a loud moan almost sure the neighbors could hear you. Felix doesn’t miss a chance and starts lapping up your juices from around your thighs. You finally get a chance to tell him that it’s too much for you and your abused clit can’t take anymore of it. A small whine come from Felix’s red plusher lips sad that he can’t pleasure you anymore.

Seungmin ༉‧₊˚✧ + choking

I’d be Lying if I said be wouldn’t enjoy choking you. His love of chocking you was accidentally found out. He was deep inside you using one of his hands to curl around your neck in an attempt to quite you down. Ever since then he loves doing it. Slick seeping from you panties when it happens.

Seungmin fingers where buried deep inside your cunt sucking him in so tight. He was almost sure the neighbors could hear your slutty moans from a mile away. “Be quite for me” Seungmin says but when too no avail you don’t listen and quite down he moves his free hand too tighten around your neck. The sight of you gasping for air got him even harder in his pants Pre cum making a wet spot on his boxers. He fingers speed up getting a kick out of the way you struggle to breathe. Of course Seungmin would never actually hurt you but he knew from the lewd sounds coming from the way his fingers squelched in and out of you that you where enjoying it. You hands move on top of his in attempt to claw them of but to no avail you failed. His fingers frantically sped up wanting to coax a delicious orgasm out of you. Seungmin only releases his fingers from your neck when you reach your high. Wanting to hear those high pitched needy moans for him “ such a good doll for me” Seungmin says before going on for a second round. Dick still painfully hard in his sweats

I.N ༉‧₊˚✧ + orgasm Denial

He doesn’t Always do it on purpose but sometimes he gets so lost in pleasure he forgot a how close you are and accidentally pulls out before you get to finish. He loves the whine that comes out of your lips though and starts doing it more.

The whines coming out of both your lips are so high pitched from the pleasure. jeongin trying to muffle his moans in the crook of your neck. Meanwhile your not trying at all to be quit letting the dirtiest moans fall from your lips. Their is no denying that both of you are going to hit your climax soon. jeongin too lost in chasing his own release only able to think about your tight walls squeezing him oh so tightly. His hips rut into yours faster than before. He bends your legs holding them up to your chest to angle him self deeper into your hitting all the right spots. His own orgasm washes over him as he slows down coming down from his high, he pulls out. He comes back to reality only to be greeted with moans of him telling him you weren’t finished yet. A cute frown plastered on your face. Hr smile at the thought of you doing that every time he pulls out to early. Hen goes back in for a second round only wanted those cute whines to come out of your lips again

[thelov3lybookworm]

I was listening to hyunjin's Ice Cream and this idea came to me loll. Idk if you do these kinda requests but can you do a fic inspired by the ice cream lyrics? 🥹🥹

Azriel with reader who's really cold but he's still hopelessly in love with her? (I love hopeless romantic az 🫶🫶) but not too much angst please I need fluff and happy endings, otherwise my heart wouldn't be able to take it 😔

Ice to cream

Summary: Azriel has a stoic exterior, and no soul has ever really seen what is underneath.

But then he met someone as cold as ice, and was ready to be her sweet cream.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: okayyyyy i feel like sweet cream sounds weird but my brain thinks its cool so ignore it 😉

also, i looooove you anon, thank you for this ask ❣️

enjoy!

•○🌑○•

That day had been like any other.

Azriel had been walking down the winding streets of the city of starlight, whistling to himself.

It was rare that the shadowsinger whistled, but that day he had simply been feeling like it. It was also shocking to his own self how carefree he had felt that day and had decided to take a walk instead of locking himself up in his office and finishing up reports while wallowing in self pity since Rhys had banned him from visiting the third Archeron sister.

The day was beautiful, nothing to signal that the shadowsinger's life was about to be turned upside down.

Azriel had been walking past a bookstore, and there was nothing that could have prompted him to turn his head to look at it, but maybe some unseen forces were at work, because he glanced at the storefront, and then decided to step inside for a moment.

The inside was cosy, the light streaming in from the multiple windows not too harsh, dust motes dancing as if to an unheard song. The store was quiet except for the occasional turn of a page or the purring and meowing of a cat.

Azriel had no reason for going into that bookstore, but once there, he decided to see if he could find a small book to read when he felt like lazing about and not writing reports.

Walking through the multiple aisles, Azriel let his gaze wander.

It was some time later, when his fingers were absently caressing the spine of a book in the fantasy section and he was about to leave without a book because nothing caught his fancy, that a loud, irritated meow sounded nearby, and Azriel winced.

A blur of orange fur in his periphery caught his attention, and the moment he glanced to his left, a cat shot out from between the shelves, knocking over some books and racing towards him.

Azriel stood frozen, until another meow sounded, and a black cat and pretty female came into view. She had an annoyed look on her face as she chased the two cats, and, in his whole five hundred years of existence, Azriel had never thought he would experience at love at first sight.

He wasn't one to judge whether people deserved his time and love by their looks. He usually tried to know them personally before he did.

But here she was, chasing two cats as they knocked over books, and Azriel could not breathe.

Azriel's shadows whispered that if he caught hold of the cats, he might be able to talk to her.

The spymaster wasted no time, scooping up the orange cat as the female picked up the snarling black cat.

She panted heavily, holding tight to the wiggling cat. Azriel didn't have to struggle though, the orange cat simply stopped moving the moment Azriel's shadows swirled in front of its eyes.

The female sighed, muttering something about food in the black cat's ear, and that finally managed to get the animal to calm down.

She glanced up at Azriel, shaking her hair out of her face, her face emotionless.

She walked forward, grabbing the orange cat from him with a mumbled thank you, then walked away. Azriel raised his hand to call for her, but she had already left.

Disappointment hit him from all sides, from his own self as well as his shadows, and he was left to wonder why.

Azriel left the store without a book that day, and the pretty female had not even glanced at him as he left, and that gave Azriel a purpose.

He would have to return.

To get a book, of course.

•○🌑○•

Azriel feared she would beat him in his broody spymaster act if given the chance.

It had been a month since Azriel had first visited the bookstore, and so far, he had come nearly everyday to the store in hopes of getting her to talk to him. And, obviously, to find a book to read.

He had been unable to get any responses from her as of yet that were not one word answers, but Azriel pretended that he was making progress. That he was beginning to crack the hard shell around her.

Currently, she was arranging some books, balancing precariously on the ladder that lay against the tall shelf. Azriel watched, alert and tense in case she lost her balance and would need assistance.

It didn't take long, as she winced a moment later and started rubbing her eyes with one hand, his shadows whispering of how dust had gone into her eyes.

Azriel was next to her in a moment, his grip tight on the ladder as he smiled up at the female, and she glanced down, a frown on her face.

She put the books in her hand back into their place before she began descending the ladder. The moment she touched the ground, she scowled, turning to Azriel.

He blinked in confusion, though he still kept that smile on his face.

"Were you trying to look up my skirt?"

His smile faded, and his eyes went wide as his brain registered how inappropriate his actions might have seemed.

"I- no- I would never- I-" He sputtered, at a loss for words.

The female gave him an unimpressed look, turning away.

Azriel was frozen in place for a moment until his shadows whispered to him about how this was a good opportunity to talk to her. They screeched in his ears, and that finally got him moving as he followed behind the female, tripping over his own feet as he tried to get her attention.

"Hey! Hey wait!"

She paused behind a shelf, half turning to him.

"I was not trying to look up your-"

"Doesn't matter if you were. Happens often enough that it doesn't bother me."

Azriel froze, his brows scrunched. She made to continue walking, but his shadows shot out, the ones next to his ear letting out an exasperated sigh.

The female glanced down at her hand in confusion, to where the shadows were twisting around her wrist and weaving through her fingers.

The female's eyebrows rose, and she looked up at him.

He pulled them back hastily, heat rising in his neck and face. "Um. Forgive me. They sometimes don't want to be controlled and do whatever they want."

She turned to him with a sigh, and Azriel had to wonder if he was dreaming when he saw her lips twitch in the slightest.

Master is not dreaming. He is simply dumb. A shadow whispered as it bobbed away from Azriel's ear, swirling around itself as if in a dance.

Azriel squashed the urge to snarl at it.

"What do you want?" Azriel whipped his head to look at the female, finding her staring at him with a bored expression on her face.

He cleared his throat. "I would like to know your name."

"Why do you want my name? Are you going to put some enchantment on me?"

Azriel opened his mouth to deny any harmful intentions, but again he got distracted by his shadows' whispering.

We wish to engrave it on master's skin.

The heat Azriel's face increased.

"I-I just want to know. No reason..."

She studied him for a moment. "Y/n."

Oh it will look beautiful carved on master's chest.

It will look better on his face.

On his forehead. No one would then try to steal him away.

Or maybe on his hips-

Or butt-

To the outside world, it would simply look like his shadows were floating leisurely in the air, but Azriel could barely think straight through their unnecessary commentary.

"A-Azriel. I am Azriel."

She snorted, turning away. "I know."

He followed her as she stalked through the shelves, his mind having stopped working the moment she gave him her full attention.

"How do you know that?"

"You are not really subtle with who you are."

"Oh?"

"Everyone knows you are the spymaster of this mother forsaken court."

If anyone else had insulted or even thought something bad about his court, they would be chopped into pieces and thrown into the Sidra before they even took their next breath, but then again, Azriel's brain had stopped working, and all he could think about was the fact that she knew who he was.

"So you've heard about me?"

"Yes."

"So can I ask you out to eat with me?"

She froze in her tracks without warning, and Azriel, who was usually very good on his feet, rarely stumbled, even when drunk, slammed into her, taking both of them down.

She wiggled under him, trying to get him off of her, and he scrambled to follow her wish.

She glared at him as she straightened into a kneeling position, dusting off her clothes.

"What makes you think that?"

"Nothing." He mumbled, embarrassed that he was acting like a young boy who had only learned the concept of reproduction and how it happened.

She climbed to her feet, but Azriel's hand shot out to grip hers.

Master finally did something right without having us guide him.

We must celebrate.

Azriel decided he was going to kill his shadows, but that would have to wait for now.

"Please. I want to take you out."

Y/n studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she sighed.

"Fine."

A sudden burst of excitement took over Azriel, and he jumped to his feet.

"Amazing. Can I pick you up at sunset today?"

She nodded, and before Azriel could even realize what he was about to do, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her cheek. Then he simply turned away, and sprinted out of the shop, already thinking about what he would wear and wich restaurant to take her to.

As he left, he didn't watch as the female who had captured his attention with a few cold looks, who was as cold as ice, lifted her hands and ran her fingers over where his lips had been a moment ago, her eyes blown wide and lips parted.

She stood there, unmoving, for mother knew how long before she glanced around, hoping no one was near.

And then, she let herself smile.

A shy, unbelieving smile as her face flushed.

And there, in the dark shadows between the shelves, her ice exterior began to crumble.

Cracks appeared.

Cracks in which he would plant himself so deeply, so thoroughly, and begin to weaken the mighty walls around her heart.

•○🌑○•

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

[sweetnothingtm]

HUSH// simon riley x reader

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader

word count +5k

content warning +mdni!! nsfw, thigh riding, spanking, light knife play, hair pulling, light degrading, slight orgasm denial

authors note I feel filthy after writing this, in a good way, I hope you throw up you sick freak

heavily based on the song hush by the marias

This all started because of your nasty little attitude. You were leaning against Soap, eyes blinking away exhaustion and yawns slipping past your lips as you waited patiently along the rooftop. A simple hostage experiment, clean cut and a breeze for the rest of the task force. Yet you had to fuck it up by being a brat.

“Stay focused, kid.”

“Is that an order, Lieutenant?” You said, playfulness lacing your tone as your head rests against Soaps shoulder. He chuckled beneath you, his face pressed to the scope.

“You really wanna do this right now?” His voice is steeled over the radio. There’s a silence that followed as you look to the abandoned hotel across the field, a flash of white catching your eye. You smiled, fingers pressing down on the walkie-talkie.

“Affirmative, sir.”

Soap casted a glance in your direction, eyebrow raised. You nudged him softly, a little laugh bubbling up from your chest. It’s always been like this, your quick jokes and comfortable personality stuck to Ghost like a thorn in his side. He takes it with ease, always grunting in response and ignoring the ways in which you manipulate his heart. Every day, except for today. Soap rolled his eyes, focusing back on the task at hand.

Ghost didn't answer. A gentle quiet ensues as you continue to make yourself comfortable against your teammates body. You’re new, but the team has warmed up to you quickly. Like a stubborn child with no remorse, there’s always a little twinkle of mischief in your eyes. Sharp, cautious and playful, you became everybody’s favorite. Except for his.

“Careful, sweetheart. Just might think you need a little punishment.”

You held your breath, cheeks turning a shade darker. His voice was thick, dark and teasing in a way you haven’t heard before. The Lieutenant was watching you from a hundred meters away, teeth grinding together in irritation as your soft little voice rings through the comms once more.

“And if I did? What will you do then?”

»»————-　➴　————-««

You’re alone now, save for the ominous sounds of your footsteps and the ghost that’s haunting you. Unbeknownst to you, there’s a pair of eyes smudged with black paint that watches your every move.

Your boots crunch beneath the gravel and stray debris of what was once a home. Uniform covered in dirt and grime, your breath comes out shallow and even as you sneak through the city of rubble.

There’s a gentle breeze that carries itself through and around your hunched figure, a hand instinctively rubs away the sweat from your forehead. It’s the heart of summer, sweat glistening against your skin and ripples of heat are rolling through the flattened land.

You risk a glance around the corner of a building, eyes scanning for any stray ghost. His ghost.

It’d been two hours since your feet landed on the unfamiliar soil. The haunting gaze of your Lieutenant rests comfortably in the back of your mind. A routine exercise meant to blow off steam within the task force, and to weed out the rookies. You. You knew it too, when he looked straight at you, voice laced with venom.

You need a reminder of who’s in charge.

Fresh meat for the slaughter, you’d nodded your head innocently as he pushed a rifle into your arms, blank rounds falling into your hands. You’ve been on the force for seven months, always underestimated and coddled like a child. You knew Soap and Gaz were waiting for you now, their faces plastered with a knowing smirk as you and the Lieutenant stand on opposite sides of the field.

A game of cat and mouse, and he would do anything to catch you.

The Lieutenant was a grim and foreboding presence that you drank from like a glass of wine. Always eager to please and ready to submit, you dotted on the idea of being his. He’d mentored you, molded you to be everything he wanted from you, the ghost of his fingertips always adjusting the weapon in your hands. A little higher, kid.

He’d catch you in the halls, his dark eyes dancing slowly on your figure as you blushed scarlet. Arms always crossed and gaze demeaning, you melted under him without hesitation. Your little crush for the brooding ghost was building itself into a forest fire. He’s your superior, the one who recommended you for the team, his sloppy signature still stained on the paperwork. You did everything to please him, but it still wasn’t enough.

Darting through the empty streets, you stumble through a door kicked off its hinges, scattered wood crunching underneath you. The home is in shambles, belongings strewn throughout the rooms. The rifle sits heavy in your hands, the rounds of ammunition beginning to dwindle as time slips by.

You climb the stairs, dodging eroded and chipped concrete. It smells like mildew and the summer breeze, and if it weren’t for your heart that tried to beat itself out of your chest, you might feel like relaxing a while. But he’s out there, waiting for you to slip up.

Upstairs, the sunlight seeps through a broken window and casts shadows across the bedroom. There’s a worn mattress flipped onto the wall, and an armchair sits in the corner of the room. You steer clear of the opening, head falling back against the plaster wall. A breath comes loose, slipping free from your lips. You’re becoming impatient, almost a little irritated at the way he’s living up to his name. Ghost.

Soap was caught first, the familiar laughter of Gaz sounding through the comms. The scottish brute had grumbled about needing a cigarette, his post abandoned after being found. His radio was turned down low, body leaning against the side of the pickup truck that carried you here.

Then it was Gaz, hiding at a gas station about two blocks from where you are now. He muttered low curses under his breath, arguing that the Lieutenant wasn’t playing fair. And he wasn’t.

Now it’s just you, thighs squeezing together out of an anxious habit you never kicked. An hour had slipped by since the two were caught, and you felt like Ghost was dragging this out on purpose. He’d counted on your impatience, slowly pulling at the string of your being until you began to unravel. Quite a punishment, you thought bitterly.

You’d never faced him alone, always the buffer of Soap or Gaz between the two of you. It’s not like you were ignoring him, or that his presence was suffocating - although, you realize, it is. But you couldn’t seem to think straight in his presence, body humming with an unfamiliar heat when he caught your gaze. So, you kept your distance. It seemed as though he saved the worst version of himself for you, always a mask of irritation and disappointment greeting you.

He made your knees weak. The implication of him watching you sent shivers down your spine. He’s out there, finger brushing against the trigger as you poke your head out the window, eyes scanning the rooftops.

You draw back, letting the sound of your anxious thoughts guide you. You know he’s there, you just need to find him. Before he finds you. The thought makes your heart skip a beat. Fingers dance along the button of comms, swallowing a breath of fear, you give in and press down.

“Any day now, Lieutenant. I’m waiting,” you say, adjusting the vest that sits right on your shoulders. A dark chuckle follows your words, a breathy laugh that tangles itself along your spine until your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, kid. I’m right here. Just taking my sweet time,”

A knot coils inside your stomach, throat clogged with anxiety at his words. You feel like backing down, admitting defeat and ending the day with a shred of dignity. It’s immediately washed away by the shame that would follow should you give up. The boys would joke about it for weeks, and god knows how the Lieutenant would take it. Bad, you think, he would take it badly.

He knows you’re thinking about it. A stupid smile is plastered on his face as he spots you across the way, your hair brushing into your face as you search for him. You’re gonna lose, and he’s counting on it.

He's got a thing for betting on losing dogs.

Ghost left his rifle at the church, propped up against a crate with his tags dangling in the sun just enough to shine. A poor decoy, but one that he knows your pretty little head would fall for. He feels giddy like a child, head hung high as he saunters through the city like a phantom. He’s a block away, footsteps falling silently as he aims himself straight to you.

Peeking around the broken glass once more, you look to the church that stands tall. The windows are busted, spray paint decorating the building. Perfect for a lone wolf like him. There’s a flash of something, quick and glistening off the sunlight that hangs above you. There, at the height of the tower, there’s a glimmer of light and a blur of movement that catches your eye.

“Wanna tell the boys you’ve lost, or should I?” you say, excitement building in your system.

You load the rifle quickly, the palm of your hand slamming the cartridge in as your fingers pull back the bolt handle. A wide grin spread across your face at the idea of having found him. Taking a steady breath, the end of your rifle hugs your shoulder as you take aim. You aren’t certain if it’ll hit, but it doesn’t matter. The Lieutenant said it’s over when you’ve been caught - and you have him right under the tip of your finger.

The blank quickly fires, a flash of light following. You release an eager breath, letting the rifle hang at your side as you look triumphantly to the church. A second passes, then another. Silence laden in the air as you wait patiently for the Lieutenant to admit defeat. You feel like a show dog, having won an award you never expected to receive. You reach for the radio, dumb satisfaction spreading like wildfire. You take a winning breath before you speak, eyes shimmering with satisfaction.

It comes so quickly you aren’t even sure it’s happening until the soft beat of your heart crescendos and lifts itself into full panic.

A warm hand wraps itself around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as your head smacks against his chest. The gentle press of a cool knife is laid on your throat, breaths fanning hot against your cheek. “What the fuck are you-“

He laughs, the dark sound echoing in the abandoned building. Ghost rests his chin on your shoulder, and a little devil whispers to you - tag, you’re it. He presses the knife closer to your skin as you let loose a shaking breath, body completely frozen by the intoxicating presence of your superior.

“Boo.”

The voice sends pure and unadulterated fear throughout you. As your wiggling against his touch and struggling to free yourself, the Lieutenant is pulling you backwards. Your rifle clatters onto the ground, and you’re kicking your feet to try and break free from the death grip he has you in. You almost feel like it too - like you’re going to die.

The window is slipping further and further away from you as he drags you to the back of the room. The rifle looks back at you mockingly. Helpless, alone and completely fucked, you scratch at his wrist in a last ditch effort to run away.

He keeps the knife pressed against you, unmoving and unbothered by your desperate flailing. You crane your neck to look at him and instantly regret it.

There’s a darkness that circles in his eyes. His mask is hiding the dirty smirk that’s started to spread across his face, an unfamiliar emotion brewing on his face. You’re desperate to escape, suddenly overwhelmed at the close contact. You feel like screaming. He notices, the fabric of his mask flush against your skin as his words come out sharp and lethal.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,”

You nod meekly, teeth sunken into your bottom lip as he lets loose another laugh. He’s toying with you, like a cat would a dead mouse.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m so sorry-“ you start to speak, taking careful steps backwards with him as he leads you to a shadowed part of the room. The heat of his body suddenly disappears, but the knife stays put against your throat. He turns you around, little wide eyes staring at the ghost with a haunting fear. Such a pretty little face, he muses - too bad I’m gonna ruin it.

“You’re not sorry. Not yet,”

He takes a seat against the tattered chair, fingers locking onto your vest until you’re pulled into straddling his leg. You squeak at the contact, thighs pressing into his leg as you continue to squirm under his touch. His eyes are locked onto your face, free hand coming to grab your chin.

You wonder why he’s doing this - he’s won, isn’t that enough? There’s still thirty minutes left, Soap and Gaz are waiting for you to show up with your head hung in shame as the Lieutenant takes you home. The close proximity to him builds a fire between your legs, and you can’t help but think of all the filthy little secrets you’ve kept to yourself.

“Wanna stop being such a brat? Huh, sweetheart?” He uses the name mockingly, slipping from his lips effortlessly.

Oh.

Your lips are wobbling, anxious breaths pulling themselves from your chest as you try to remain calm. The rub of his thigh between your legs has your mind going completely blank. You stare at him, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

He’s sitting in the chair casually, one arm resting against the side as he continues to look at you. He’s waiting patiently, as if he’s got nothing but time. You swallow, shifting on his leg and unsure how to approach the situation.

It doesn’t help that he’s pushing his knee into you like that.

Exhaling, you shrink under his gaze. “I don’t understand-“ you begin, but he’s quick to cut you off. He grounds out your name. Ghost glides the tip of his blade against your throat softly, a delicate touch that you’re shaking under. “I asked you a question,” he states calmly.

You try your best to stay still. To understand what the fuck is going on, and how to talk to your lieutenant that’s pressing his knee between your thighs. Every movement sends another shock of electricity through you, cheeks blushing scarlet at the shameful heat that’s pooling between your thighs. “Yes, sir,” you say softly, fingernails digging into the palms of your hands.

He’s grinning like a fool, and you don’t even know it.

Ghost bounces his knee, admiring the way your eyes widen and how your legs squeeze around him to keep balance. The movements are slow, comfortable and paced. You’re biting your tongue, breath held as his free hand comes to rub your thigh softly. “Look at you, following orders like a good girl,” he says, voice velvet and smooth. “Show me how sorry you are.”

A moan slips and tumbles from your lips, hips grinding softly into the touch of his knee that continues to lazily bounce. He moves the knife from your throat, twisting it between his fingers. There’s dried blood on it, remnants of his kindness staining the blade. You’re terrified, about what he’s going to do, and what you’ll do for him. (A lot, apparently)

You shift along his knee, heat continuing to simmer from the contact. He’s bouncing his knee into you, the pace quickening when you grind down softly in defeat.

Your hips grind against his leg, hands cautiously taking place in front you to keep balance. Ghost continues to stare, fingers flipping the knife around. Gentle gasps escape you, eyes briefly fluttering closed as pleasure edges you closer towards him. His hand is rubbing against your thigh, dragging itself up and down your clothed leg. The contact sends shivers through you.

At this point, your mind is foggy with the continuous pleasure that continues to build between the two of you. You’re giving in, hips grinding and rolling against him. His leg continues to bounce with your movements, and your panties are slick and wet with excitement.

“Look at you, sweetheart. Fuck,” he grounds out, fingers digging into your thigh that’s sure to be bruised later. You’re dragging yourself up and along his leg, desperate for friction. Whines are slipping past your lips like it’s the only way to keep your sanity.

You’re so close. So close to euphoria, an arms reach away.

The knife he’s playing with is pocketed, dark eyes trained on your hips until your knees are weak and a heavy cloud of arousal is hanging in the room. His leg stops bouncing, a pout playing at your lips. “Get up,” he spits, flicking his wrist with indifference. Nodding, you peel yourself away from him and stand with a shaky breath. You sit between his legs now, intentionally avoiding his gaze. “Lieutenant. Sir, can I please g-“

“Shut the fuck up.”

The way you say his title makes his dick throb with need. You’re looking towards the door, chest rising and falling quickly with the beat of your anxious breaths.

The loss of contact has you desperate and craving to be near him. You’re soaked now, fists clenching as you try to remain calm. It’s embarrassing, the way you melt against him - you want to run and hide. And he knows.

His hand cups itself between your thighs, rubbing you softly as you moan from the touch. You should run, you think, but it wouldn’t do any difference. You’re scared to death, but a part of you likes it. He’s sitting there, legs spread open and the bulge in his pants growing.

“So desperate and needy for me - are you happy now?” He asks, free hand reaching down to palm himself and groaning. Yes. You want to nod, but you're pinned beneath his stare. The excitement is pooling between your legs, eyes landing to his lap where he’s stroking himself lazily through his clothes.

But you’re also scared. A subtle fear is manifesting within you, the situation weighing heavy on your shoulders. You don’t know what he’s playing at, what you’re supposed to do as your Lieutenant rubs soft circles into you. You could transfer teams, apply for another position, maybe even just up and leave without a word. But somewhere, deep down inside of you, you know that he’ll always be there.

He looks away, irritation spreading across his face. He’s listening to something, brows knit together. The radio, you realize. Curious voices coming to interrupt the moment, saving you for just a breath as the Lieutenant focuses on something other than you.

“Lt, everything okay? It’s been quiet,” You hear Gaz ask. Twenty minutes left.

Ghosts hand pulls itself from you reluctantly, fingers pressing down as his gruff voice responds. “Keep the lines clear,” he grumbles, his hips bucking softly as he continues to stroke himself. “Gone hunting. Out here,” he says.

The moment his focus is taken off of you, you’re bolting towards the exit with everything you have. You’re quick, mind heavy with the intentions of your Lieutenant. You’re an arms length away, fingers so close to grasping the frame of the door to pull yourself out. You’re right there, fingers outstretched-

But he’s quicker.

You fall on his outstretched ankle, tripping and landing face first. Your forehead smacks against the dusty floor as your breath is stolen from you. A deep laugh echoes behind you, your heart in your throat. He shuffles in the background, steps heavy as he saunters towards your downed figure.

A boot situates itself comfortably on your back, digging in until you cry out from the pain. Tears are forming in your eyes, the press of his shoe keeping you in place as you struggle underneath him. You were so confused, head spinning and mind reeling. Yet you’re still wet from the incredible feeling of riding your lieutenants thigh.

Your glossy eyes stare back at his knee as he kneels down. His hand lands on your ass with a sickening smack, a whimper coming free from you. “Wait - please, I’m so sorry, Simon-“ his name slips like it doesn’t belong to you - because it doesn’t, not yet. He grabs a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look up at the terrifying mask that separates you. He doesn’t feel human, like a part of him is disconnected. You’re terrified, but you like it.

“Hush,”

Like an obedient pet, you nod to him with wobbling lips. His vest is off now, cast aside in the room. He rests an arm casually on his propped knee, shaking his head in disappointment. He exhales slowly, your eyes trained on the mask as he speaks low and dark.

“I’ll tell you a secret, love,” he says, pulling at your hair more until your neck is strained. Tears are rolling down your cheeks, palms flat against the floor as you wait for him.

“I’m no patient man, and I tried - I really did,” he confesses, head cocking to the side to mimic your current position. Another hard smack. You can’t see it, but he’s got a stupid grin plastered on his face as he stares at you, helpless and defeated.

“I thought if I was nice enough you would hear me.”

The pressure of his boot is unbearable, lungs pressed tight as you struggle to take a breath of air.

“But you just don’t listen.”

The last smack lands, and you squirm under the pain. He keeps his hand there for a moment, grabbing a fistful of your ass. “I do. I will - m’ sorry,” you whine. “Simon, I didn’t mean it-“

“Maybe not, but I do.”

He forces you to your feet, leading you with his fist entangled in your hair. Your thighs press against the side of the chair, his hand pushing you to bend over, face smushed against the worn cushion.

His groin presses into your ass, hips rolling into you softly as you bite the inside of your cheek. A hand grips down on the back of your neck as he pushes a forceful thrust into you. Intoxicating and overwhelming pleasure returns, thighs squeezing together in a futile attempt to stop the pooling of arousal that gathers.

Ghost drags down your pants, groaning softly at the view of your bare ass, still red with his handprint. He smacks it again - he just can’t help himself. He’s waited so long for this, to get you alone and let all the filthy demons he’s got go loose.

“Gonna fucking ruin you, brat,” he growls, two fingers meeting your clit and rubbing hard circles. Your legs open instinctively, and he laughs at the way you melt under his touch. “Already so fucking wet, how badly do you want it?” He asks, teasing your cunt with the tip of his fingers. You feel like drooling, mind numb from his fingers that roughly tease you.

“Go on, tell me,” he baits, fingers slipping further and further as a moan of ecstasy is pulled from your lips. “So bad,” you whine, throwing your hips back until he's knuckle deep inside you. “I’ll do anything,” you admit, rolling yourself into him as he continues to finger you. You’re soaking, nails digging into the chair as you bite back moans of pleasure.

Ghost’s undone his belt, pulling down his zipper and pushing down the hem of his boxers. Grabbing his cock, he strokes himself lazily while you writhe and plead with his fingers inside you. There’s a sickening wet sound that follows from the action, your cheeks turning scarlet with embarrassment.

God, he’s gonna lose it. All the self control that he’s built, the careful distance that he’s kept from you. It’s crashing down, lighting ablaze with a burning desire as your lips moan his name over and over.

Please. Please. Please.

He smacks his tip onto you, smearing pre-cum on your ass. You’re breaking down, hips grinding and rolling into his fingers. The playful act is dropped, blind obedience and need replaces it. Then he rubs his tip gently into your clit, and you can’t help but lose sight of everything that isn’t him.

“Fuck - don’t stop . Please, please just fuck me-“

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” Ghost asks, curling his fingers until you’re seeing stars. So close. You’re tightening around his fingers, desperate for the touch “mm-hmm,” you mumble, unable to form sentences.

“Gonna beg for my dick like a desperate little slut?” He teases, quickening his pace until your legs are shaking.

Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

His fingers leave you suddenly, a cry falling from your lips at the loss of contact. You’re shaking, dragging your nails on the chair and begging him - please.

“Thought I’d let you cum so quick? Bloody hell,” he muses. “You just don’t learn, huh?”

You’re shaking your head. No. You’ll do anything for him, anything to have him .

He rubs his dick over your entrance, free hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling harshly. Ghost eases himself into you, teasing you slowly. Whines and pleads are leaving your mouth, desperate and out of control until his hips are flush against your ass.

Ghost is holding your hip with one hand, fingers digging into your skin as he sits with his cock in you. He doesn’t move, moments slipping by in pure agony as you unravel at the seams. He’s still, patiently waiting for you to come undone. And you do, pressing your ass against him and grinding “fuck me, please. I’ll be good - I promise,” you sob.

He’s laughing at you, and it’s got you blushing out of control. “That’s better, love. I like it when you beg for me,”

The Lieutenant is a greedy man, and he’s takes his sweet time with you.

Ghosts thrusts are harsh and rough, slamming you into the chair as his hand continues to grip your hair. His dick stretches you, mouth hanging open as he’s fucking you senseless.

The knot of pleasure is unraveling, waves of ecstasy rolling through you and eyes rolling back. Ghost keeps a quick and hard pace, and it’s got you dizzy with disbelief.

He smacks your ass, a mewl of approval sounding from you. Ghost likes it rough, and you take it like an eager little vixen. You roll and buck your hips, grinding your wet cunt against him as if you’re asking for more. He’s smiling, pure excitement hitting him like a kid playing with his new pet.

Ghost rubs into your clit, savoring the way you twitch under him. “Just like that, sweetheart. I bet you like it when I’m mean,” he states, your cunt soaking wet from him. “I know you do, taking my dick like this. Fuckin’ hell,” he groans.

“Mm-hmm, please, please - just please don’t stop,”

This time, he listens. He fucks you relentlessly, pulling at your hair and rubbing your clit. Ghost thrusts are becoming uneven, sloppy with pleasure as you both start to feel the orgasms building.

“I wanna feel you cum, you fucking slut,” he spits, fucking you harder. Your eyes squeeze shut, legs shaking as the heat burns into a forest fire. Slick wet sounds are coming from behind you, his dick pushing into you and hand coming down to smack on your ass. “Lemme hear you, love. Tell me what a good girl you’re gonna be.”

“I’m a good girl. I’m gonna listen, I promise. I’ll do anything - please, sir. I wanna cum, I’ll be so good, I-“

Ghost lets out a groan of approval, cutting you off before you have the chance to finish. You don’t mind, head cloudy with a sickening pleasure that crescendos into full grown ecstasy. Moans are slipping free, hips grinding into his thrusts until you’re screaming in pleasure face first into the chair. Nails digging into the side, your orgasm crashing through you until you’re seeing stars.

Ghost isn’t far behind. He’s thrusting sloppily, huffs and moans spilling from him as he rides you through your orgasm. He pushes your head into the chair, growling out filthy curses as he fuck you harder. Deep thrusts and low grunts are pushing you towards insanity. He quickens his sloppy pace, desperate for release as your cunt squeezes around his dick.

He cums soon after, slamming a fist into the wall and rocking thrusts into you slowly. “Think you’ve learned your lesson, sweetheart?” He teases, pulling himself from you. You nod into the cushion, breaths coming out hot and heavy. “Uh-huh,” you say softly.

Ghost rubs the bright red mark on your ass. A moment passes by in a comfortable silence, the air thick with arousal. He carefully pulls you to your feet, your shaking hands dragging up your pants. You’re looking up at him with wide eyes, asking yourself if this is going to be the only time - or just the first time. Ghost glances back at you, a hand coming to grab your jaw. The touch is delicate and gentle, something that catches you off guard. He looks pretty damn pleased, based off of the twinkle in his eyes.

“Times up - good hunting, Lt?” Soaps familiar voice cuts through the radio. You blink, almost forgetting where you are. His hand leaves your face. Blushing scarlet, you look to your Lieutenant. “Who are we buying drinks for?” Gaz questions.

Ghost is fumbling with his belt, slinging the vest onto his shoulders as you wait patiently for him to respond, lip caught between your teeth. He notices, another dirty smirk that you can’t see playing at his lips. “Go on, tell them,” he says, picking up the stray rifle on the ground. You look at him in disbelief, blinking in confusion.

“Tell them or I’ll show them by fucking you over my desk.”

You hang your head in shame, nodding to yourself as you press the radio. “Not me,” you say softly, grabbing the rifle from his hands and looking at him.

“The Lieutenant wasn’t playing fair.”

[ihrtsevyn]

HOW TO GET THE GIRL: A LOVERS GUIDE

CHAPTER FIVE: incoming facetime from my lilypad🪷 and hoshi reincarnated🐯 (863)

WARNINGS: slight angst if you squint.

◃ previous ep. ⊹ masterlist ⊹ next ▹

Rubbing your hands across your face in distress, you let out your 5th sigh in the past hour.

Your hands tangled themselves in between the strands of your hair, slightly yanking at your scalp to feel some type of relief from the non-stop pounding in your head.

You couldn't decipher if the cause of the relentless pounding was due to stress, or if your heart had made its way up to your brain and was trying to rattle some sense into you.

You didn't remember tutoring being so draining, then again it had been a few months up to a year since you'd last taken the time to sit in a library and actually teach old material to someone. Maybe it was extra vigorous because all you could think about was the underlying issue of your still present feelings or maybe it was just extra taxing because you knew you'd have to take away more of your free-time to sit cooped up in a library with your longtime crush.

You let out a small whine before your eyes trailed over to your cat that sat perched up on your windowsill. You'd do just about anything to trade places with her.

Before you could even think to wallow in more self-pity, your trance was suddenly broken by an insistent buzzing on top of your thigh.

Incoming facetime from my lilypad🪷 and hoshi reincarnated🐯...

An unknowing smile broke onto your face before you clicked on the green, purposely putting your phone up close to your eyes and eyebrows.

As if on cue, the phone connected to show Yoon and Lily in identical poses making the three of you burst into a small laughing fit.

"Whatcha doin?" Yoon asked, dragging her words out as she propped her phone up against her desk to reveal the stack of ignored homework and lit up nintendo switch.

"Setting up my schedule for the next few weeks." You pitifully murmured before propping your phone up against a pillow.

"I don't know why I accepted to tutor him when I already have so much shit to do." You murmured as you sifted through papers of all of your upcoming events.

"Oh, please. We know why.." Lily tittered as her eyes focused on her own task, flipping through the pages of a binder with a highlighter in hand.

You side-eyed the camera for a split second before going back to marking your calendar. "Ha, Ha, Ha." you plainly uttered with a blank face.

"Don't pretend like we're wrong." Lily added, pointing her highlighter at the screen with a fake threatening sneer.

"We've heard the countless love rambles from you to know you'd jump in front of a moving bus if he asked you to." Yoon countered, failing to conceal her giggles at her own comment.

It was hard to deny their claims or even pretend to be annoyed with them when they were saying nothing but the truth. Your last love ramble was only two weeks ago when you were gushing on how gentle you caught him being with a stray cat outside of the school gates.

It was a vast contrast of how rough he presented himself on the basketball court, and to see him be so soft with a vulnerable animal made your heart beat at a pace that you didn't know was humanly possible.

"Speaking of Niki, I have to text him and get his schedule." you haphazardly mumbled before grabbing your phone.

The call was silent for quite some time but it felt as if the air completely shifted when you made that half-off comment. The widened eyes of the duo staring at you went unnoticed as you searched for his contact name.

"YOU HAVE HIS NUMBER?!" Yoon abruptly shouted before yanking her screen closer to her.

"Uh, Yeah. I need it so we can plan out our tutoring sessions." You replied with furrowed eyebrows and wide eyes, slightly confused by the outburst.

"And this is our first time hearing about it?" Lily interjected, gaping at her phone with a faked hurt expression as she rested her hand on her chest.

"I only got it today! What more do you want from me?" You asked lightly, laughing at their played up antics.

Before Yoon could reply, your phone dinged with a text message, and to your surprise, it was Niki himself.

Yoon's next rebuttal was broken with a quick gasp "Oh, shit. Was that him?" she asked, her hand covering her mouth with slightly widened eyes.

"Yes, actually." You answered, unknowingly straightening your posture as your thumb hovered over the text message banner.

"Well, what'd he say?" Lily asked, her binder quickly being discarded as she shifted her focus towards her phone.

"All he said was 'Hi, this is Niki.' With a smiley face attached." you answered as you laid back in your bed, shoving aside the disorganized flurry of papers on your bed to get comfortable.

"Oh my god, he wants you so bad." Yoon immediately interjected.

You could feel your lips spreading into a smile at her words. "Shut up." You murmured, trying your hardest to force down your smile.

"What should I say back?"

TAGLIST: @sakiimeo @sakuxxi @ilyjxdz @artstaeh @rosas-in-the-garden @k1ttylvr @stilesks @enhagvrl @yourssincerely-mimi @rizzanna-soda @saursoob @haechansbbg @nishislcve @winuvs @kyrojackson @suhiiiies-blog @rikisgeef @soobs-things @jumigurumino @ssukiyakii @baribaaari @eleanorheartschishiya @rikibun @seunghancore @wonik1ss

[mondaymelon]

𖥔 ݁ ˖⩇⩇:⩇𝟥.𖥔 ݁ ˖

⤷ a halloween event hosted by @mondaymelon !!

prev.

taglist: @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @silaswritesthings, @neigesprincess, @mintydump, @kaeffeinee, @scaranaris-lil-niko !! ignore me saying yes and refusing him lmao i was being silly

“No.” You took his hand readily and let him pull you to your feet. “It doesn’t.”

If the air around you had been a little less foggy, you would’ve been certain in the way his gaze softened, eyes turning to a liquid gold that shimmered in the rippling movement, like light reflecting on the water. “I see.” Even his voice was beautiful, slightly raspy and with a growl in his words, like a symphony made just for you. “Then it should make this easier.”  His sculpted arms dug into your sides as he leaned into you, each finger grasping your skin tightly, a hold that would most certainly leave dappled bruises on your skin. He opened his mouth, and his words flowed thick like honey. “I’ll explain when it’s over.” 

Something pierced your neck, two fangs sinking into your flesh, and then threading veins of warmth spread like wildfire across your skin. His fingers grazed against your nape, brushing any stray strands away. Not a drop escaped past his bared fangs, despite the red that began to stain his lips. Swirling, your mind had gone white, and you couldn't even formulate a single coherent thought, only letting a soft gasp escape. You would melt at the slightest touch, you were sure of it. 

He pulled away, lips streaked with crimson, and let out a quiet sigh as he brushed his hair back with his fingers. “Shit, no wonder why Venti went feral. Archons,” His voice dipped to a lower note, a whisper. “Why do you taste so…?”

Venti, who had been standing to the side, glanced up with an unpleasant expression. “Ah, what a hypocrite. Reprimanding me with such vigor only to go and do the same thing yourself, how unfair is that?”

“I did it for a reason, bloodthirsty bastard. You just go and bite anything that breathes.” Xiao scoffed, exasperated. He glanced at where you were, visibly panting heavily as your quickened breaths turned white in the air. “My apologies.”

“What… W-What the fuck?” You pressed a hand to your neck and felt blood dripping past your fingers, and you drew them back with a flinch. They were tainted in a red that trailed down your wrist. You had to force the words out amidst your heavy breaths. “You… You said…!” 

“As I said, my apologies. This was the only way to protect you. A mortal cannot go unguarded in these realms.” He looked regretful, he really did, but his eyes were not one of a human’s, and his rich voice was one that had persisted for centuries. The diamond pupils you had adored so much in the seconds before now seemed unnatural, like a predator's, and that made you his prey. “In time, you’ll understand.” He placed his gloved hand in yours, yet you felt no warmth radiate past the cloth. “Please, let’s head back to the manor before they find us.”

Another mystery to unravel. “They?”

Xiao shook his head, his black hair illuminated by the moonlight. His hushed words came out quickly. “You’ve traveled into the wrong territory. I’ve risked enough retrieving you, and if we stay too long they might-”

“Ah, look what the cat dragged in.” There was a laugh, a chilling one. Xiao instantaneously glanced up, expression cold as a curse slipped past his lips. He swerved to the right to avoid a blade thrown past his head, where it embedded into the tree trunk meters behind, the wood shrieking as it bent into two.

“Stay out of matters that don’t concern you!” Xiao shouted, but you could read the signs of uneasiness in his stance. How many lay in wait in the shadows? If you ran now, would you be able to… There was a final snap as loud as thunder, and then the great tree fell to the ground, completely uprooted. Venti giggled childishly like he was excited at the predicament.

Your hands shook. No way in hell. At least in Inazuma, you could do something against the perpetrator, but here. They were on a level of their own, and they had surpassed the limits that the gods had set for them.

“A rat who has snuck its way onto our land is squeaking. Ah, my ears hurt.” The same voice from before, but this time it was paired with a figure walking out from behind you, causing you to spin on your feet. A glimpse of indigo hair, fluttering garments, dark violet eyes that made him seem more dead than alive. Sharp horns that sprouted from his head and twisted towards the sky, and a whip-like tail that whipped with every word. He brought a hand up to his mouth, his slender fingers curling cruelly as he barked out a laugh. “Ha! It’s as if you wish to die.” His voice was sharp, not cold, but distant, as if he wasn’t fully there. The sneer in his tone made it all too clear that he was getting a kick out of this, even if the spreading smirk on his face didn’t make it obvious enough.

“Now, now,” a new voice had entered the fray, and it was lilting, almost hypnotic. “Wanderer, you can’t be thinking of killing them now, are you?” Red hair. Red hair? Dark horns that curled above his ears, and a sender tail that bent like a question mark. Green eyes that sparkled even though the night had been coated in black paint a thousand strokes over. The boyish grin plastered on his face made his cheeriness prominent. “Show a little courtesy, won’t you? Even if his majesty isn't here, it still seems we have a guest.” His gaze flicked towards you, and lingered a moment too long. “You aren’t planning to keep them to yourself, are you? It’s been a long, long while since we’ve ever had any sort of entertainment around here~”

“Venti.”

One word was all he spoke, but in a split second Venti appeared by your side, taking you into his arms as he held you bridal-style, his touch much less invasive than before. The way he held you so effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing, and how his every step was so gentle against the earth, like the wind itself was carrying him forward, felt like it was second nature to him. You blinked up at Venti with round, surprised eyes, mouth slightly ajar as your heartbeat raced against your mind.

“Ah, poor thing, they’re shaking like a leaf!” Venti sighed, pouting playfully. ”And come to think of it, I’ve forgotten to ask for your name… for now, please say the word, ‘transfer’ so we can teleport to the manor! I only have enough magical power for the two of us, y’know~”

“Venti, don’t you dare…!” The angry one had stepped forward, teeth clenched and tail lashing behind him, its point razor sharp. Something about his growly voice made your own die in your throat. His brows furrowed as his eyes darkened his expression into a threatening glare. “Don’t even think about it, or I’ll make sure this will be the last time you see him.” His eyes directed towards Xiao, who was watching the two of them with a scowl. 

“Go.” His gilded eyes glinted, and something burning settled into your soul.

Wanderer let out an abrupt laugh, seemingly startling even himself as his frame shook to his twisted amusement. “Two against one, do you really think you’ll win? I heard you’ve been staving off of human blood for a while now too, don’t tell me you actually are holding onto your foolish principles!”

Your vision blurred. Your mouth felt dry, like you hadn’t spoken in centuries, and every intake of air was painful. You could feel Venti’s expectant gaze staring down at you, yet your heart wavered. ‘Transfer’… if I say that, I’ll go back. But Xiao, and these others… what…what will happen to him? Fuck, will he…die…?

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴛʀɪᴀʟ.

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