#since that seems to be a common occurrence

[sa-reverie]

Hello Shalem nation

Decided to color that one chalk drawing I did a long time ago (some details are omitted because I am lazy orz)

[si3nn4]

❊

Your friendship with Katsuki was peculiar, bordering more on the romantic than the platonic. Everyone who knew you was well aware of your close bond with Katsuki.

The two of you were inseparable, not in the literal sense, but in a way that made your supposed 'friendship' feel intensely intimate. Every action Katsuki took seemed to be done with you in mind. Similarly, everything you did was to ensure you never upset him.

❊

"He stopped to roam around a store because he remembered you mentioning your favorite book being there again. We wandered for an hour and didn’t find it," Mina would complain. You would smile and apologize, though Mina's response was always the same.

"Don't apologize for that. Apologize for not dating already. At least then he'd have a proper excuse for favoring you."

❊

Two years into university, Katsuki finally mustered the courage to ask you out. Surprisingly, the confession wasn't as awkward as you both had feared, and your friendship naturally blossomed into something more.

Mina and Kirishima were the only ones who knew about your relationship. Mina found out because you told her, and Kirishima discovered it through his gossip sessions with Mina.

❊

One night, the boys gathered at Katsuki's apartment for a typical boys' night. You were crashing at his place, which wasn’t unusual since it had been a common occurrence long before you two started dating. However, the planned night was forgotten.

Katsuki lay in bed with you, a single arm draped over your waist as you faced away from him. With a small shuffle, you turned to face him, nestling your head into the crook of his neck. Katsuki pulled you closer, quickly dozing off again.

Meanwhile, Denki wandered the hallway in search of Katsuki. Reaching his room, he opened the door with a camera in one hand and a Sharpie in his mouth. Giggling to himself, the blonde boy slowly crept toward the lump of blankets on the bed.

The rest of the boys followed, watching from the doorway, eager to see Denki's prank on a sleeping Katsuki. But as Denki approached, he gasped loudly upon seeing both of you snuggled together in bed.

Katsuki immediately covered you with the blankets and pulled you closer at the sound of someone else.

"What?" Katsuki mumbled groggily.

"YOU'RE BOTH DATING!?" Denki's exclamation caused the small crowd at the door to quickly file into the room, curious to see who was lying in bed with the notoriously grumpy blonde.

❊

I finally had an idea. I can't get over uni Katsuki. I wanna try different ages

[m00ntunaart]

2nd STARWARS/DAEMON AU POST!!!!! This time with the CC's and the Disaster Lineage!

Obi-Wan: Maned Wolf (Kee-Ayt)

Anakin: Lion (maned female lioness) (Asieko)

Ahsoka: Gryfalcon (Tuex)

Cody: German Shepherd (Beskar)

Rex: Siberian Husky (Queen)

Wolffe: Wolfdog (Whitefang)

Fox: Doberman Pinscher (Vulpe)

Bly: American Akita (Lyra)

LORE TIME: first off! Jedi! So I thought a lot about how daemons and Jedi should work. I did end up deciding that Jedi GENERALLY have bird daemons (like the witches in His Dark Material), BUT not always. The Jedi having bird daemons is not a ‘All Force Sensitives Have Daemons Who Settle As Birds’ thing. It wouldn’t make sense in this AU since Force-sensitivity is a spectrum and at what level would someone have ‘enough’ force-sensitivity to have a daemon for certain become a bird? I didn’t like that narrative as much, it felt restrictive. So instead Jedi tend to have bird daemons, but not Force-Sensitives. Like all Jedi are force sensitive ( and have bird daemons) but not all Force-Sensitives are Jedi, make sense? This is because of how the Jedi raise children and teach them to interact with the force. Because of how Jedi are taught to view and use the force, their daemons tend to settle as birds! It’s ‘nurture’ over ‘nature’ thing. Which is why (in this AU at least) the Jedi don’t take in older children to train. Because they’ve already probably learned their own way to interact with the force (different from the Jedi teachings) and therefore will have a non-bird daemon! Hence Anakin having a lion daemon. “But what about Obi-Wan?” (Well since Obi-Wan is one of my favorites I get to spice him up lol). He was originally very Jedi like (daemon wise) but after the whole Jedi Apprentice/Xanantos enslaving him/Melida-Daan war thing, he daemon ended up settling as a Maned Wolf! I imagine he was just about the age where his daemon would settle (usually 13-15, which is the same reason this is the age Jedi initiates are made padawans), so it was a surprise that his daemon so abruptly changed and settled. Most likely the effects of being so abruptly exposed to violence and war right out of being only use to the peace of the Jedi temple his whole life. 

(Extra) The 3rd page of the post! Cody and Obi-Wan’s daemons! Beskar and Kee-Ayt! Even though in my doodles Beskar seems to be very grumpy and even hatful towards Kee-Ayt, DO NOT BE FOOLED. Beskar adores Kee-Ayt. Their relationship just mirrors how I headcanon Cody’s and Obi-Wan’s. Where they will harass and bitch at each other to hell and back. Sounding from the outsider’s POV like two people who hate each other. When in reality these two are joined at the hip and love each other. They just will never admit it because “we have reputations to uphold!’ (Anakin says “what reputation? the reputation that one of you would murder the other if it wasn’t for the fact the GAR would court marshal the other?”) But yeah, Beskar makes fun of Kee-Ayt’s long ass legs. The mini ‘comic’ is about how I imagine that since all the Clones’ daemons are dogs/canines, when they win a battles they have a ‘Victory Call’ where they all howl. Beskar offers for Kee-Ayt to join in, but Maned Wolves can’t howl. They do this thing called a Roar-Bark (look up a video it’s so loud). This is the first time Beskar hears Kee-Ayt roar-bark and it scared the shit out of her.

(Extra Extra) The 4th page of the post! This is mostly doodles of Rex, Anakin and Ashoka’s daemons (Queen, Asieko and Tuex). All three reflect the close relationship that Rex, Anakin and Ahsoka have. Hence Tuex nesting on Queen and Asieko trying to groom Queen (who doesn’t appreciate the rough lion tongue bath she’s getting). (In fact Asieko tries to groom Tuex and Kee-Ayt too, but Tuex is too small and Kee-Ayt just starts biting Asieko bcs she doesn’t appreciate the bath either lol). We also have Tuex dive bombing Asieko (a common occurrence whenever Anakin and Ahsoka bicker). Tuex also does this to literally anyone who slightly annoys him or Ahsoka. And lastly the little doodle of Rex and Queen screaming! Idk if you’ve ever seen videos of Huskies, but oh boy are they loud and dramatic. I think with all the stress and insanity Rex has to deal with leading the 501st, he and Queen often have therapy screaming sessions. They deserve to. 

(ALSO, I will be making follow up reblogs with lore/plot stuff for each individual character)

[strwberri-milk]

Hello!! Sorry if this is lengthy but can you please do a "I didn't know we were dating." Scenario/HC where MC/reader didn't know that they were already dating the LaDS guys meanwhile the guys have been preparing to celebrate their 1 year anniversary together and reader/MC is confused because they thought that the LaDS guys were just being close and affectionate cause they were good friends and the LaDS men are like "We've been together this whole time!"? (And this whole time MC has been pining for them but they thought their feelings were one sided)

Please feel free to ignore/delete this if it's too lengthy 😅

hhhh im modifying this to a few months bc tbh i dont see any of the boys going that long without making some sort of clarifying statement that makes it clear you two are dating we love kings of communcation <3

Zayne was always warmer with you than anybody else. You never thought of it as anything other than platonic, especially considering you've overheard him talking to his colleagues about needing to see his partner or bringing something over the next time he sees them. You never asked him about it since he never seemed to say anything about them to you, thinking that he was just wanting to keep his relationship private.

It's not until one day when you hear him on the phone use your name in conjunction with calling you his partner that you think to ask him. You wait for him to finish his call, asking him what he meant by that. He's just as confused, asking if the two of you were dating. He'd thought you were since you never said anything to the contrary and seemed just as happy to spend time with him. You have to finally admit to him that you had no idea, the two of you laughing awkwardly at the assumption that was made. You end up making things official, finally going on your actual first date the same day.

Xavier was always all over you. You thought it was because he didn't really seem to have many friends outside of yourself, not minding it at all since you liked him just as much, if not more. You don't think to ask why he feels so comfortable around you, knowing that honestly, you felt just as comfortable around him yourself. Not only that, but since you had feelings for him allowing him to be as touchy as he was allowed you to fantasize about the two of you being more.

One day he tells you he loves you out of the blue, making you a flustered mess. You cover your face, trying desperately to hide and ask him why he's suddenly saying all that, only to be attacked with the fact that he's asking why you haven't said it back. He looks sad, asking if you don't love him and your relationship wasn't as serious as he thought it was. You ask him what relationship, leading to you finding out that he thought you said yes to being his partner when he asked you after a sleepover one morning. It's a little mortifying but you don't mind now that you know, hugging him tightly and telling him that you love him more than anything.

Rafayel has always been nice to you, practically crawling into your lap whenever the two of you are hanging out. He loves to hold you, burying his face into your neck and saying the sweetest things - the exact opposite of the man he presents himself to be. You just assumed that him being this needy was a reflection of how comfortable he is with you, totally unaware that he was trying to figure out how to make your first kiss perfect.

He invites you over for dinner - an occurrence that was becoming more and more common - fully intent on making a move on you tonight. You thank him for the meal, totally panicking when you realise he's a lot closer to you today then he is other days when he comes over to grab your finished plate. He's about to kiss you when you push against his chest, asking him what he's trying to do.

He's just ask confused, asking why he can't kiss his partner, which then makes you spiral even more. You tell him that the two of you aren't dating, which just makes him even more confused. Cue a conversation about the fact that he thought you two were dating and he was trying to kiss you because he wanted to. He wins in the end but your heart definitely stopped a few times from th excitement of the evening.

Sylus straight up calls you his partner to your face. You thought it was just a new pet name he was testing out on you, not taking it seriously. He calls you so many pet names that you almost tune them out, thinking that the affectionate way he looks at you was just a side effect from him teasing you slightly.

It's not until you hear the twins referring to you by the pet names teasingly in Sylus' presence that you start to think that maybe there's something to it. He tells them that he can call you whatever he likes because you're dating him and that if you didn't like it you would have said something already. He doesn't know you're listening in, nor that you're freaking out because you had no idea that you two were dating.

Now he ends up needing to tell you that you two have been dating for a while as far as he's concerned. He tells you that he thought he made it clear with the fact that he told you to your face that he considers you his partner, blaming you (playfully) for being too dense to realise he was serious.

[zaldritzosrose]

Rȳbās (Aemond x Wife!Reader)

Using the mural in a fic was something I'd planned for a while and when the beautiful @targaryen-dynasty asked for writers for her milestone celebration I snapped it up! The whole thing came together so perfectly and I hope you enjoy! Check out her full milestone celebration here!

And the masterlist will be here!

Summary: Your disinterest in your shared Valyrian heritage had been a sore point for your brother turned husband. Aemond could not fathom a reason you would not hold the same interest he did. So he devised himself a little plan to help you learn.

TW: MINORS DNI, she/her pronouns, afab reader, canon typical incest, targcest, oral (fem receiving), Aemond being a nerd, profanity, sexual innuendo, Aemond being a tease if you squint, use of High Valyrian.

Words: 2311

ābrazyrys - wife

valzȳrys - husband

rȳbās - focus/listen/obey

Since you were small, you and Aemond had been inseparable. There was never a moment you were not at your brother’s side. You would watch him train with the sword and he would watch as you learned to control your dragon.

It was no surprise to anyone when your father declared you betrothed, citing Valyrian traditions. Your mother had not been the most accepting, but it was hard to deny the bond the two of you shared despite her reservations.

But there was one stark difference. A difference the Aemond would torment you with time and time again.

You had never taken your lessons as seriously as Aemond. Your brother turned husband had always held a fascination with your shared Valyrian heritage and history. Pouring over every tome the royal library offered, soon demanding more texts from the maesters. Even now, a man grown and married, he was ever searching for more.

At first, he had ignored your disinterest. Understanding that you maybe simply did not hold the same curious mind he did. But he would catch you reading other texts. Your interests centring more on fiction than philosophy and history.

It became a common occurrence, even after your marriage. Joining Aemond in the library after he poured over some history text or philosophical scroll. Watching him in confusion as he read and reread the texts over and over, seemingly engrossed in it despite having read every book and reem of parchment in the royal library.

When he would question you on it, you would simply say it did not interest you. He kept his true feelings quiet on that, though he could not help taking a little offence at your total dismissal of your family history. The history that made you both who you were.

He tried numerous times, even offering to teach you himself. And again, you would dismiss him. You knew enough Valyrian to command your dragon, why must you learn more, would become your new answer.

But today, it seemed he took particular offence at your disinterest.

“Would you not even take an interest if I read them to you? Explained them?” Aemond asked, hooking his finger in his book to keep his place as his good eye bored into the side of your face.

You sighed, looking up from your own book – a small one filled with poems and short stories. You could tell by the look on his face that today was going to be one of his more stubborn and insistent days.

“This again, really? Have I not already given you enough reasons…” your voice was tired, meeting his gaze one before returning to your book.

You loved the way his mind worked; it was one of the many things you had always loved. Even more so now you were married. But you wished he would understand that not everyone saw the world as he did. And it was not that you did not care for your Valyrian heritage. It was just that you saw no joy in reading about the past when you had enough to deal with in the present.

You had not argued with Aemond when, after agreeing to make his chambers your marital ones, he begged to keep his mural. A large painting of The Burning of Harrenhal during the Conquest of Aegon I, painted quite accurately it seemed above your shared bed. You did your best to spend little time looking at it, not understanding why he needed an event so dark and violent above his head. But you loved him too much to fight him on that.

You would not, however, give in to his constant insistence of joining his fevered interest in those legends and tales.

“I simply do not understand how you can dismiss our heritage so easily?”

But when you chose to ignore him, he surprisingly remained quiet. But one look at him would have told you so much. As stubborn as he was, Aemond began to devise a plan. To mix education with pleasure, you could say. Something he had yet to do to you, or should he say for you.

Something that would make sure you remembered every lesson he taught you.

You had not seen Aemond for a few hours. It was not unusual. There would be times he would forget the hour and remain in the library until he could barely keep his eye open to read. Sometimes he would decide to take an impromptu ride on Vhagar.

There were a number of things that would keep your husband from your side in the evening. So, when you returned to your chambers, you did not expect to find Aemond sit by the fire. His eye trained solely on you as you entered. Feeling as though it bored into your very soul with the intensity of his gaze.

“Have I missed something?” you asked, slipping off your shoes and making quick work of loosening your braids.

If there was one routine you had, it was to find comfort from the moment you entered your chambers. But something about Aemond was putting the atmosphere in the room on a knife’s edge.

“I have decided I will find a way to make you appreciate our heritage as I do. One way or another.”

Aemond’s voice was soft. A tone you knew immediately meant trouble. It was when he was calm and quiet that the most chaos seemed to follow. He stood quickly, making quick work of the distance between you, pulling your back towards his.

“I am sure, sweet sister, that you will enjoy my lessons much more than any others.”

Your body melted back into his as his lips found your neck. Kisses gentle yet demanding all at the same time. His hands splayed over your stomach as your head fell back to rest on his shoulder.

“You are yet to convince me, despite months of trying. What makes you think that will change tonight?” your voice was barely louder than a whisper, your resolve slowly faltering as he nipped at your pulse point. His smirk evident.

Aemond could feel your pulse under his lips, knowing just his words and touch were enough to already have you like putty in his hands.

“Have some faith, my love, you do not know what I am capable of…” Aemond whispered, nipping at your skin as he walked you towards the bed.

As your knees hit the footboard, Aemond gave you a gentle push forwards. You scrambled to catch yourself, hands planted on the bed as you slightly turned back towards Aemond with a questioning brow raise.

He only hummed, shedding his leather doublet and tilting his head as if planning his next move.

“Hands and knees, ābrazyrys.” Aemond ordered, his gaze not wavering from yours.

There was part of you that wanted to disobey, to bite back. But that look told you it would be a mistake. That tonight was not a night to toy with him. Aemond watched with a serious expression as you got into the desired position, your forearms flat to the bed as you rested your head atop them. But that was not quite how he wanted you.

“Head up, look at the mural.”

You frowned but did as he bid, all the while wondering what he could possibly be aiming for. His hands were warm as the caressed a path on both sides of your waist, mapping out each curve of your body. When he reached the hem of your dress, he pushed it high, silently demanding its removal. With quick movements, you pulled the dress over your body, throwing it aside and returning to your previous position. Bare and presenting yourself like an animal for your husband.

Aemond could only hum in approval, impressed by your choice to obey him without argument. He wondered, then, if that would bode well for the rest of the evening. You could hear the sounds of Aemond’s clothes being removed. One by one hitting the floor until he was as bare as you were, you assumed. You dared not look back at him.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, his hand following the same path as before, but now you could feel the roughness of his palms against your skin.

You wondered what his next move would be curiosity eating at you. You sighed out softly as his hands needed at your rear, soon turning to a moan as he gave one then the other a gentle smack.

“Now, we shall make a deal. You will recite the story told in that mural, and in return I will bring you naught but pleasure,” Aemond voice sounded serious, but you could hear the small strain of desire within him at the sight of you bent over like this.

His hands continued their path down your body, parting your thighs. What you did not expect to feel was the warm puff of his breath against your folds. Already slick with want from the anticipation.

“I do not understa…oh!” Your words fell to a gasp the second you felt the hot swipe of his tongue against you.

Aemond had never pleasured you like this, not because he did not want to. He had offered before, but you had felt a small twinge of embarrassment at the idea and always denied him. But now, you realised what a mistake that had been.

Your pleasure, however, was short-lived when Aemond tapped at your thigh and removed his mouth from your core.

“Recite the tale, wife.” His voice was lower, hoarse almost. It was clear he was as filled with desire as you, but fighting hard to keep up the control he had in this moment.

You groaned softly, but when you realised that he was serious you began as best as you could remember.

“In 2 BC, Harren the Black completed the building of his castle, Harrenhal,” The moment you began speaking, Aemond resumed his ministrations. Soft licks to your core to ease you into your pleasure.

Your voice was soft, every word punctuated with a moan as you continued. Detailing how Aegon the Conqueror had arrived not long after, how two battles had been fought. How Harren had been forced to close the gates of Harrenhal for his own protection.

Aemond smirked against you. He had been going easy, luring you into a false sense of security. He was not done with you yet. He gave you a moment’s reprieve and praised your efforts.

“Keep going, my love, I am impressed…”

If you had been more aware, you would have heard the vaguely mocking tone in his voice. You would have taken that as a warning for what was to come. But unfortunately, you were not.

You began again, mere seconds passed before Aemond began to lap at you again. But this time, he had you gripping the sheets beneath, eyes barely staying open as you were taken over by pleasure.

But a slap to your thigh told you to continue the story.

“Gods…uh…” You tried to speak, feeling him chuckle into your wet heat.

Aemond gripped your thigh in yet another warning, one more sign of hesitation and he would stop.

"Rȳbās..." he growled deep into your cunt as he squeezed your thigh again.

“Harrenhal was too strong to be sieged, so Aegon offered to confirm Harren as the Lord of the Iron Islands if he yielded to him…” your voice broke into a low, keening moan of Aemond’s name as he pressed himself deeper into you, burying his tongue as far as it would go.

You could feel your release readily approaching, but you were still coherent enough to know you would not be allowed to peak until you were done retelling the history.

“Fuck…Aem…” You tried to remember the rest, your hips instinctively rolling back against his face.

Your eyes rolled as you felt him grunt into you, as lost to his pleasure as you were. His cock hard and ready between his thighs, pulsing with need at the mere taste of you. His hand crept around your body, his thumb pressing against your swollen bud. The pleasure was almost too much but you were now determined to prove you could finish the tale despite your husband’s tongue lapping eagerly at your cunt.

“Harren…Harren refused and Aegon took to Balerion and burned the castle. Cracking the walls, burning everything within and ending House Hoare…Fuck!”

Aemond no longer cared for the rest of the tale, his thumb rubbing at your pearl furiously as his mouth devoured you. His cock leaking onto the stone below as his own pleasure stirred in his stomach.

“Come for me, wife…” Aemond commanded, his free hand grasping at the flesh of your rear to ground himself.

Within moments, your juices flowed onto his tongue, joined by your almost screamed moans of pleasure and chants of his name. Your knuckles almost white at you gripped at the black sheets below.

Aemond did not relent, drinking down everything you gave him until you began to pull away. Your body limp as you dropped to the bed. He was quick to crawl up beside you, stroking a hand down your damp back.

“Well done, sweet wife…I had half a mind to believe you would fail…”

You barely huffed out a laugh, turning on to your side to look at him.

“So little faith you have in me, valzȳrys?” you breathed out, tugging him down for a kiss, groaning at the taste of yourself on his lips.

Aemond pressed himself against you, making you readily aware of the heavy weight of his cock still thick and waiting between his thighs. Your hand travelled down, gripping him and relishing the moan that left him. A wicked idea soon entered your mind. It was only fair to see if your so-called historian of a husband was as capable as you had just been.

“Maybe, it is my turn to test you?”

Tags (feel free to let me know if you want adding)

@blissfulphilospher @elaratyrell @khaleesihel @multyfangirl

@legitalicat @thenameswinter99 @aemondsbabe @anjelicawrites

@sylasthegrim @arcielee @starogeorgina @connorsui

@bucknastysbabe @thought--bubble @aemonds-holy-milk

@kaelatargaryen

[uyuuma]

“ THE MOVIE'S NOT THAT SCARY ”

bigbro!choso x fem!reader ღ MDNI.

❥ summary. you and yuji itadori have been best friends since middle school. you often came over for movie nights with him and his big brother. little does yuji know about the things you and his big bro have been up to.

❥ warnings. nsfw, female anatomy, slight age gap, doing stuff under the covers next to yuji, etc.

❥ a/n. i've been thinking of this scenario for a while. was super fun to write about, ive become a choso girlie in recent times :)

❥ wc. 2.3k

"Yo, you still on for movie night?" A voice calls out from behind you.

You turn around and see that it's Yuji, your best friend. You adjust the bag strap on your shoulder and smile at the familiar face.

"Yes, of course!" You replied enthusiastically.

Yuji has been your friend all the way back from middle school. You transferred as a new student and he was the first person to introduce himself. You guys quickly became close friends because of his kind and extroverted demeanor.

Yuji had an ongoing tradition with you where you guys would have movie nights on Fridays. It was mostly held at his house since he had the bigger TV. Throughout middle and high school you guys would excitedly choose a movie and watch it after a long week of school, wrapping up the week in a fun celebration.

Sometime in your senior year of high school, some things changed in Yuji's household. His older half-brother, Choso, moved into the house with Yuji. You could remember the day like it was yesterday, the first time you laid eyes on the pale man.

He was around 7 years older than you from what Yuji told you. Already long graduated college before you even started. You felt something inside you spark when you first saw him, you weren't really sure what it was though. It could've been his stoic face or perhaps how he towered over you in height. But something made you feel giddy whenever you were around him.

Choso began to join in on movie nights, around the time you were 19. Calmly resting on one side of you, with Yuji engulfed in the movie on the other side of the couch. Yuji was always too immersed into the movie to notice how you and Choso would share glances at each other every now and then. It even flew right over his head when you started to wear skimpier outfits when coming over as well. How your oversized t-shirts and sweats turned into tight lacy-tank tops and booty shorts that accentuated your ass just right. I mean, it wasn't his fault because Yuji never saw you in that way.

Oh, but Choso did. He noticed how exchanging glances turned into you nudging your hand against his, or how you playfully rubbed your foot against his leg. How your clothes became increasingly revealing every week or how you would cling to him at the scary part of a movie.

Choso was experienced, he could tell how hard you were trying to get his attention. He found it extremely adorable at your attempts to flirt with him. He would often let out a quiet chuckle or make clever remarks that would make you get butterflies in your tummy.

It wasn't long before you and Choso started to mess around. How Yuji never noticed how you two would disappear halfway into the movie for an hour, was beyond you. It was a common occurrence for you to tease Choso under the blanket too much, making him excuse himself that he had to lay down in his room from a 'headache'. He would then shoot you a glare and squeeze hard onto your thigh, signaling to you that you better follow. You would then excuse yourself a couple of minutes later so that you could use the bathroom.

Really you were headed to Choso's room, where he would bury his cock into you until you begged him for mercy. Your body spasming from his ruthless pounding, covered in sweat. After he felt like you received the correct punishment for whatever you did that pissed him off, he would quickly clean up to join back with Yuji. You would follow him, the stench of sex still all over you. But, Yuji never seemed to notice.

That still applied to your current situation. You were sitting in between the boys, blanket on your lap as it extended to Choso's. Yuji didn't use a blanket, he just had his favorite pillow on his lap. Tonight Choso recommended that you guys watch a horror film. Yuji put on the original 'Scream' excitedly, since he enjoyed cheesy horror flicks.

A little into the movie Yuji had already become absorbed into the plot, not paying any mind to the two of you. That was when you felt Choso's arm move behind you. You believed it to be him just putting his arm around your shoulder so you leaned into him. That was when you stifled a gasp from exiting your mouth as you felt his warm fingers pull at your shorts.

You look up at him, holding back a whimper as he snaked his hand through the back of your shorts. His fingers found their way to your panties, skillfully parting it out of the way. He used his middle finger to gently rub against your clit, hoping to get you wet. It worked as you easily became soaked from his touch.

He smirked and kept his eyes on the TV, moving one of his digits along your slit. You squeezed your legs together from the warm sensation and leaned into Choso's shoulder. You fought back a moan by gripping onto his sleeve.

Choso then plunges his slender and long middle finger into your soft cunt. He gave out a muffled groan disguised as him clearing his throat as he felt himself become hard from the sensation alone. Something about how your pussy sucked in his finger made him want to fuck you right then and there. Unfortunately, it wasn't possible at this very moment.

Feeling how your pussy squeezed his finger and legs quivered from his touch made him add another finger. It made you gasp, feeling him slowly insert his ring finger inside of you, gasp audibly enough for Yuji to pick up on it.

"Hah, looks like you still find horror movies scary." Yuji said teasingly, looking over briefly. He turned to face the TV, still being clueless as to what was going on.

You gave out a nervous giggle in response and moved to look back at the TV, trying not to break the act.

However, Choso would not let up as he started to move his fingers inside of you. You squeezed your thighs together as he finger-fucked your little hole. His fingers began to grind against your walls as he curled them to hit your sweet spot. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he hit that spot relentlessly, trying to get you to make more noise.

Choso loved to humiliate you, so he worked his damned hardest to get you to let out your sweet moans. He knew Yuji was too stupid to catch on, he just simply wanted you to feel embarrassed.

That was when he quickened the pace, your wetness starting to cover his fingers in slick. A familiar wet slapping sound began to seep from beneath the blanket, as he moved his fingers aggressively into your needy cunt. You quickly glanced at Yuji, knowing for certain he could hear that.

"Damn, the sound effects in this movie are pretty realistic." Yuji said as he shoveled popcorn into his mouth.

You become hot in the face knowing your lewd little cunt was making sounds loud enough that Yuji could hear it.

"Yeah, I guess they know what it sounds like to rearrange someone's guts." Choso said with a smirk. His voice was nonchalant, but you knew it was his sadistic way of poking fun at you.

You suck in air through your teeth annoyedly, closing your eyes, trying to relax as best as you could.

Unfortunately for you, Choso would give you no moment of reprieve as he timed his fingers curling and stroking your sweet spot along with the biggest jumpscare of the movie.

You let out a shocked moan, gripping onto Choso's bicep harder. You hid your face in Choso's chest in embarrassment, trying to slink away from Yuji as much as possible.

"Woah, calm down. The movie's not that scary." Yuji was surprised by your sudden reaction. He looked at how you clutched onto his big brother for safety and just smiled. He was glad you at least could find relief in Choso. Unbeknownst to him, you were fighting for your life not to spasm uncontrollably and cum all over Choso's fingers. Yuji returned his attention to the movie.

Choso was now painfully hard under the blanket, his erection going untouched for quite some time now. He hissed, feeling himself become constrained in his boxers. The pace at which he was moving his fingers started to slow down as he readjusted himself next to you. He moved his legs so that they were spread out beneath the blanket.

You could tell that meant he was hard and you looked up at him to see what he wanted next. Your eyes were met with his normal, expressionless gaze. The light from the TV perfectly illuminated his face to where he looked almost intimidating. He then bent down enough to where he could whisper into your ear.

"I want to fuck your throat." His breath was hot against your ear.

You looked at him, trying to see if he was being serious. He was. He guided you with his left hand to feel how stiff his cock was. You gulped and looked down at his lap, gently rubbing against his erection. He let out a low groan and leaned back against the couch, still keeping his fingers inside you.

You look at Yuji real quick and wait for something scary to happen again in the movie. As soon as you heard a woman shriek on the TV, you quickly hid under the blanket, resting your head on Choso's lap.

You could hear Yuji's muffled laughing from beneath the cover, him buying into your act that you were hiding from the movie.

You then watched as Choso took his left hand to free himself from his sweatpants and underwear, his dick was flushed at the tip and throbbing. You took a deep breath and inched closer toward it, licking lightly on his tip. You could taste the salty precum start to cover your tongue as well as how his abs flexed from your touch. You slowly took him into your mouth, letting your saliva coat his cock. You could tell he was getting annoyed from how slow you were moving because he bucked his pelvis into your face, catching you off guard. You choked a little but quickly caught up to the pace he wanted.

Feeling your slutty throat engulf his cock from under the blanket made him go feral. He went back to fucking your cunt with his fingers. He almost let out a guttural moan from the sensation of your two holes tightening around him. Instead, he just held his mouth and chin with his hand to muffle his sounds. He feigned a bored look on his face, almost as if he was falling asleep, but really he was occupied with how amazing your mouth felt.

His thrusts into your pussy matched the pace that you swallowed him, he was entranced trying to help the both of you cum together.

You too, became absorbed in the moment. Forgetting that outside of the blanket was innocent Yuji, who knew nothing of what was going on. You were caught up in sliding your tongue skillfully along Choso's length and feeling how your throat molded to the shape of his cock.

Choso could feel your saliva start to drip down into his boxers and the feeling was so lewd that his body tensed up. He began to struggle holding in his sounds and jittery movements, he knew he needed to finish or he'd lose it.

His fingers curled against your sensitive spot again, this time he mixed it with quick thrusts, making you moan around his cock. The sound was luckily unheard because the movie was playing loud music. The moan caused vibrations in your throat, which made Choso's eyes dart to the back of his skull. He was so fucking close to busting down your throat, he could feel it coming.

He added a third finger into your sopping wet cunt and continued to massage the spot that he knew so well. This was the final straw for you as you felt your orgasm crash down in waves. Your pussy clenched around his fingers as you came, your legs spasming uncontrollably and your toes curled.

He also reached ecstasy after feeling you squeeze him. He thrusted into your mouth and came as far down your throat as he possibly could. You could feel his hot, thick load spurt into your throat as you struggled to swallow.

After both of you regaining composure and calming your breathing Choso slowly withdrew his fingers from your tired cunt as well as you cleaning him off gently with your mouth. He tucked himself back into his sweats and you took that as a sign to come out of the blanket for some fresh air.

You came out, lights from the TV blinding you temporarily. As your vision adjusted you can see Yuji looking down at you.

"Aw, you missed the ending of the movie." He said slightly disappointed. He took note of your disheveled appearance, hair all tangled and mascara slighting ruined. "You must've been really scared, huh?" He asked worried about you.

"Ah, yeah I should've warned you that I don't handle horror movies that well." You said nervously, trying to comb your hair with your fingers.

"It's alright, I just hope you won't have any nightmares tonight!" Yuji said as he stood up, starting to clear the dishes off the coffee table.

"Don't worry lil bro, I don't think she's getting that much sleep tonight anyways." Choso said with a wide smirk. He winked at you and slid his slick covered fingers into his mouth to taste it.

You watched as he savored your flavor on his tongue, his eyes not moving off of yours.

You guessed you were probably sleeping over tonight.

[lvlyfawn]

your camera roll as paige’s girlfriend — p. bueckers x fem!reader.

001. posted to your friends only story, showing just how many sanrio plushies your girlfriend had bought you.

002. showing paige all the trufru's you picked up for her + kk.

003. you found this on pinterest, saved it, then sent it to paige simply because it described your relationship so well. paige was no doubt a “yapper” while you were more of a listener. that’s why you worked so well.

004. you were jokingly taking pictures of paige as she posed with her ipad, which might be her most prized possession. most nights kk would walk into the living room just to see you two doing stuff like this, or playing roblox. ever since you got with paige, you started healing your inner child.

005. driving in the car with her, it was an often occurrence that at some point throughout the ride, her hand would end up on your thigh.

006. date night at top golf.

007. this one was taken, then posted to instagram.. just to capture one of the silly things you’d find paige doing often.

008. after practice, there was nothing your girlfriend loved more than to cuddle in bed after a shower. she put on the matching hello kitty pajama pants you’d left out for her, and hopped into bed to cuddle. after a few minutes of watching tiktok’s on your phone with her, she turned on the playstation and played twd as you watched.

009. while waiting for a cab in the city, you snapped another quick silly photo of the girl. this photo has since become her contact photo just because it makes you laugh whenever you look at it.

010. the two of you had gone to the gym, paige always did, and you'd decided to start going aswell. in all honesty, you were going just to stare at her.. not that she minded.

011. you sat next to the blonde, as she got her hair and makeup done. it wasn't what she usually spent her days doing, but she'd been going on side quests lately and had many photoshoots. watching as the makeup artist's enhanced your girlfriends features, you snapped a pic.

012. late night walks were common among you, kk, and paige. kk, who seemed like your child, moped and walked slowly behind you and your girlfriend. pulling out her phone to take a snap for streaks, kk sent the picture to you, figuring you'd like it.

taglist: @bveckers @kmoneymartini @cosmopretty @charlottehughess @aubreygriffin @favreader23 @miaroman @alyrasturnz , divs by @/anitalenia

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

WHAT'S YOURS IS MINE

KINKTOBER DAY 31 - DOUBLE PENETRATION WITH JONATHAN CRANE AND JACKSON RIPPNER

Pairing.| Jonathan Crane x fem!reader x Jackson Rippner

Summary.| In college, the twin brothers shared everything and everyone. Until Jackson took it too far and drove Jonathan away. Years later, Jackson shows up with an apology gift, and what's a better gift than you?

Warnings.| Noncon, dubcon, corruption kink, head both receiving, p in v, anal, fighting for dominance, double penetration, slight cockblocking, innocent kink, kidnapping, probable Stockholm syndrome, threesome, idk they're twins is that considered incest, rough sex.

Word count.| 7.3k

Notes.| And the finaleeeeeeeeee is here. This is literally porn with plot, but oh well, its the last day so I needed go wrap this up with a bang.

One minute was all it took for Jonathan to always live in the shadow of his older twin brother, Jackson. 

Growing up, the twins were two peas in a pod. Jackson was overly protective over Jonathan, controlling what some would describe. It seemed that Jonathan was his little minion, others would rudely comment. But nevertheless, Jackson always looked after his younger brother. If there was ever a bully throwing pebbles at Jonathan, Jackson would search for the biggest rock to hurl at their head. 

The tight nature of their relationship continued on into their college years. Typically, they went to the same campus, one that suited and benefitted Jackson’s ambitions more than it did Jonathan. But Jonathan made it work outta love for his brother. That’s where their… little games… came into play. 

All created by the mastermind himself, Jackson. Jonathan was a pawn who was more than willingly to partake. All to make his big brother proud of him and to experience those urges that he was so scared to confront. Until one day Jackson gracefully skipped over the line without care and Jonathan had finally had enough. 

You could almost say Jonathan ran away from his old life. A fresh start, is how he’d word it. Gotham City was his oyster, the levels of fear and mayhem were constantly through the roof and Jonathan couldn’t pack his bags quicker to abandon his old life. 

These days, Jonathan’s sole focus was his work. 

In the present day, Jonathan had just returned home from Arkham, he dropped all of his belongings in his home office. Right as he laid on his lounge chair, coat and vest removed, his report book in hand, there was a knock on the door. It was unordinary, visitors were a rare occurrence. And for the off occasions that they did, they were not welcome. With an eyebrow cocked, Jonathan chose to ignore the unknown visitor. But when the knock continued in an irritating manner, Jonathan flared his nostrils and snapped his book shut. 

He strided down the hall, the heels of his polished shoes clicking on the wooden planks as he didn’t even consider to peek at who was on his porch. The door flung open, but Jonathan became frozen in his stance. For a brief moment, Jonathan thought someone placed a mirror at his doorstep, but that familiar mischief grin and shaggy hairstyle eliminated that thought. 

How many years had it been? Just over a decade now since Jonathan had stared at an almost perfect image of himself. Jackson brushed his hand through his damp hair, the common downpour in Gotham felt a bit too symbolic at the moment. 

“Johnny” Jackson grinned cheerfully, his arms inviting him in for a hug. 

An instant huff ran up from Jonathan’s lungs as his grip on the door tightened, prepared to slam it shut at any moment of impulse. As Jonathan slowly shook his head towards him, almost in a gear work motion, Jackson pouted back. 

“Why are you here?” Jonathan exhaled in annoyance, his posture straightened up as his eyes darted to the flash black Mercedes parked in the driveway. The one he noticed that was parked on the opposite side of the street as had returned home 

“Geez, aren’t you going to ask me how I am first?” Jackson chuckled, leaning towards the door, implying to be welcomed in. When Jonathan didn’t budge, a pure face of zero emotion locked on, Jackson sighed in defeat. “Jonathan Crane, a better last name than Rippner that’s for sure, however my name is quite fitting these days” Jackson brought up with shrugged shoulders and a smug smile. 

“How did you find me?” Jonathan narrowed his eyes. 

“Never lost you” Jackson winked, his arms crossed over his chest as he leant against the door. Silence quickly returned, the only sound being the rain attacking the roofing and cement outside. “Well, this isn’t the reunion I was hoping for” Jackson admitted, huffing lightly as stepping closer to enter, the tips of his polished shoes lined perfectly at the entrance. But Jonathan stood firmly in the way. “Come on, it’s been a long drive” Jackson urged, giving him sarcastic puppy eyes. 

Jonathan sighed, he knew his brother was as stubborn as him, if not more. He’d say that he’d stay on the porch all night like a dog, but Jackson would be easily capable of breaking in. Hesitantly, Jonathan stepped back and Jackson jumped at the opportunity to get into the warmth of his home. 

“Nice place” Jackson complimented, his head nodding in a rhythm as he strolled around his home. “However, this town certainly suits you and that mind of yours!” Jackson laughed softly as he tugged down at his suit jacket and threw it towards the living room sofa. Jonathan didn’t answer, he merely stalked him like a hawk, analyzing every sudden movement Jackson made. “But so, how’s work? Working with the criminally insane, it must be a constant field day for you” Jackson smirked, his mouth practically foaming with mockery. 

“It is” Jonathan replied bluntly, his eyes remaining low. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I do?” Jackson moped sarcastically, arms crossed over again.

“Personally, I have no interest” Jonathan answered sharply, looking up to Jackson. “Why are you here Jackson?” Jonathan sighed, yet his voice was firm, his arms mimicking Jackson’s. 

“My, how long are you going to be mad at me?” Jackson snorted. 

Jonathan repeated his question firmly. Jackson groaned in defeat and stepped towards his brother as he rubbed his neck awkwardly. 

“Because… I never had an opportunity to apologize” Jackson began, his tone hinting of regret and concern. “Probably because you ran away as quickly as you could. But you can’t say that I didn’t try to talk to you!” He continued on, a slither of frustration on his tongue. 

Jonathan stared blankly at Jackson, the last thing he wanted to do was think of that last memory together. Mentally, Jonathan was cringing at what unfolded, the emotions that stabbed at his heart. The stare off commenced, but Jackson knew Jonathan wouldn’t flinch even if something was thrown in his direction. Quickly, Jackson caved in to his younger brother and rested his hand on his shoulder. Initially, Jonathan flinched, his narrow blue eyes quickly shot back and forward like a ping pong ball.  

“I have brought you a gift. Something to repay our overdue broken relationship. An apology gift, to redeem me for my poor behavior in the past” Jackson revealed, a soft innocent smile on his lips. 

Finally, Jonathan smiled at his brother. A smile that made him wonder how interesting it could be. The ideas were sprouting in his mind like seeds buried deep in the dirt. Gifts were never conventional on their behalf. The last item they’d expect was a new shirt or pair of shoes. They always enjoyed the taboo things in life. 

Jonathan needed a nuisance of a classmate to shut up? They'd fall down a flight of stairs shortly after. Jackson wanted to woo over a bird? They’d happen to literally go running into Jackson’s arms after they were being chased by a masked figure on a late night. 

After he made the assumption that Jackson had literally been following his footsteps for years, he hoped that he had gotten rid of some dogs sniffing at his work. Maybe a couple of supplies that could massively improve his research. 

“I’m intrigued” Jonathan replied, his eyes roaming over Jackson for any obvious hiding spot. 

“Great! Firstly I need to move my car into your garage” Jackson explained as he waltzed off to the front door, dangling his car keys in his hand dramatically. 

“Why?” Jonathan inquired, trailing behind him. 

“For legal matters” Jakson said over his shoulder.  

Jonathan stopped in his footsteps. 

“Jackson” Jonathan warned, but the fire of adrenaline and excitement couldn’t help but to blaze.

“No, trust me! You’re going to love her” Jackson said excitedly, almost skipping out of the front door into the pouring downfall. 

“Her?” Jonathan almost choked. 

After eventually convincing Jonathan to open the garage door, Jackson rolled into the garage, Jonathan’s arms crossed over as the garage door slowly but loudly crept down, his heart pounding in his chest. Jackson almost tripped over to his boot since he was that excited. The boot clicked and raised open. As Jackson looked into his boot, his face lit up with pure joy. Jonathan’s head leant over in curiosity, his feet unknowingly shuffled forward as all he could analyze was Jackson’s expressions. 

Jackson spoke quietly and wagged his finger into his boot. It was all out of Jonathan’s hearing range and he could feel the anticipation rise. Jackson turned his attention back to his brother and gestured for him to come over. 

“I take it you never went into finance” Jonathan sighed as stood before the boot, staring directly into it with an intrigued look.  

“Yeah, I decided to recruit myself into the army shortly after you disappeared, then a great opportunity came up for me” Jackson explained calmly with a gentle nod. 

There you were, crammed in the boot. Strained eyes completely wide as you bounced from one brother to the other. The twins stared at you with pure fascination. Jackson rubbed his fingers over his lower lip whilst Jonathan caressed his chin, dissecting every single spec of your appearance. You were only wearing a matching set of red lingerie, Jackson’s favorite. Completed with a black ball gag latched in your mouth. You trembled like an abandoned puppy with your wrists and ankles bound together. A fresh set of tears trailed down your recent tear stained cheeks. 

“Dare I ask what you do?” Jonathan asked emotionlessly. 

“Let’s just say, people ask me for favors and I deliver. But hey, I was promoted to manager recently” Jackson gloated, his eyes ran over the goosebumps on your skin. 

“Who is she?” Jonathan inquired, but his tone lacked care. 

“Some rich fucker’s daughter. They wanted me to use her as ransom, then dispose of her afterwards. But she was such a good girl for me! My heart fought against it” Jackson exclaimed, a gleeful smile on his lips as the back of his hand moved your hair behind your ear. 

“How human of you” Jonathan snorted. 

“I can’t keep her. I travel too much. I wouldn’t be able to look after her the way she needs to be. But fuck, I’d regret… Disposing of her. She’s been my best fuck y’know? It’d be too much effort to hire someone to watch over her, not that I would even trust anyone” Jackson explained through a frustrated tone. 

That was the last thing he needed, to be your full time carer. It was typical for Jackson to pass off his broken toys to Jonathan. No, Jonathan had a perfect life, one that had no desires for authentications. 

“So this is a babysitting gig?” Jonathan scoffed, narrowing his eyes at Jackson. 

“No, this is me making it up to you. She’s my favorite girl, so I’m giving her to you completely, well almost anyways. Call us even now” Jackson nodded, proud and satisfied with his offering. 

Jackson was never marriage material, eventually he’d grow bored of you and throw you into the trash. But he knew that you deserved better, you needed to be looked after by someone that cares. Jonathan on the other hand, had that twisted obsessive nature that just screamed for someone to fulfill his personal needs. Despite how often he fought it and blocked it out, he needed companionship, somebody to hold onto in the middle of the night to keep his own nightmares at bay. Jackson already figured it out, you’d be his anchor. 

“Jackson- That’s not calling it even… You’ve already soiled her” Jonathan argued as he pressed his fingers to his forehead, Jackson snorted at his precise choice of words. 

“Oh come on! I’ve already planned it all out. Do whatever you want with her! I don’t mind! It really works for your benefit… She can be a little experiment for you. All I ask if that you don’t fuck her mind up too dramatically, I still want to drop by every now and again to see her” Jackson fought back, his similar blue eyes darting from his twin back to you, unable to keep his tongue away from licking his lips. Jonathan cocked an eyebrow at Jackson. The other twin laughed softly at his face of suspicion and confusion. “I know what you do at Arkham Johnny. It’s some fucked up shit. I didn’t realize our childhood was that bad” Jackson joked. 

“My work is for the greater good” Jonathan hissed, jaw locked. 

“Show me the mask and let me be the judge of that” Jackson patted his shoulder harshly. 

“Only if you induce some of my toxin” Jonathan shot back, a dirty glare locked in.

“Hard pass” Jackson chuckled. 

Both of them simultaneously turned their heads back onto you, you were shaking like a tree caught in the wind, tears dripped down your flushed cheeks. Jackson felt his arousal spark to his lower region, he always loved seeing how helpless and dependent you were. 

“I don’t want her” Jonathan shook his head.

Jackson’s proposition was impractical, Jonathan would have to watch you constantly. He was far too deep into his work to crawl his way back out, Jackson would just have to figure something else out for you. 

“Now! I know you always preferred bad girls. But this innocent sweet little thing really hits the spot, trust me” Jackson persuaded as he ran his hands up your cold curves. 

No, Jonathan couldn’t keep you full time. It was too much effort, you’d be distracting, irritating and costly. Not to mention, knowing that this was just an easy way out for Jackson made him fight against it. He had been over helping his brother for a long time, he was not going to walk back down that track. 

“My answer remains the same” Jonathan firmly stated, not cracking the slightest bit. 

“Well, I’m sure you can get a bite out of her if you really push her” Jackson snickered. 

Jonathan didn’t bite at his remark. Both blue sets of eyes watched you as you whined into your gag. The rope had cut into your flesh and the gag made your jaw ache. Jonathan wondered how long Jackson had been driving for with you confined into the boot. It was the middle of winter and the thin blanket was kicked off to the side, perhaps during a panic attack throughout the drive. 

No, stop wondering about you. 

The curiosity was loose on its lead. Jonathan needed to shut down the vast of ideas. But you were just so gratifying to the eye. Especially in all of that (or should he say little?) red. No, he had too many experiments already. Usually he would say the more the merrier, but he knew you’d be time consuming. 

“Take her and leave” Jonathan reminded him as he turned his head away from you.

Jonathan’s throat tightened, he swore he could feel a ball of sweat drip down. But Jackson only gave him a cocky look and pulsed his lips.  

“Have a taste of her first, then tell me that” Jackson chuckled, leaning closely to his brother. 

“No, I must decline” Jonathan waved his hands in dismissal. 

“Come on, look at her!” Jackson objected, pointing his hands at you. Quickly, Jackson wrapped his arm around Jonathan’s shoulders. “When was the last time you got laid Jonathan?” Jackson whispered, out of your hearing range, a wicked grin on his lips. A beat. Jackson twisted his head and looked Jonathan in the eyes.  “Johnny? When was the last time?” Jackson repeated, sounding far more concerned this time round. 

Jonathan cleared his throat and shrugged at his shoulders. “I have other greater focuses than sexual desires” Jonathan answered bluntly. 

Jackson scoffed loudly and flung himself off of him as if he was contagious. “Always so technical!” Jackson insulted harshly. 

“Enough Jackson” Jonathan raised his hand. 

Jackson sat on the edge of the boot. As you were silently sobbing, his hand reached back to comfort you. As you looked up to him pleadingly, he scratched your chin. 

“We had so much fun in college together! Don’t tell me you did it just for your big brother” Jackson winked, already knowing the truth. 

“Correct. What was your saying? What’s yours is mine. I wasn’t able to look at someone else without you catching on” Jonathan hissed, resisting not to snap out and jab his fingers on his chest. 

“I just didn’t want to miss out on the fun” Jackson shrugged his mouth, twisting his shoe on the floor like a disobedient child. Jonathan blinked darkly at him. “Alright, alright! I’m sorry about… Fuck, what even was her name?” Jackson muttered as he scratched the side of his head. 

Jonathan scoffed and turned his head away. Jonathan was infatuated with a fellow classmate. She was the total package in his eyes, at least his primal desires lead him to believe. She had led him on, whispered dirty fantasies in his ear for weeks. Unfortunately, Jackson eventually caught on and jumped at the opportunity. Quickly after, Jonathan walked into their dorm room with Jackson blowing at her backside whilst eagerly telling him to join in. 

“Hey, since we are speaking about her… I remember seeing her on the news years ago. I’m crossing my fingers that it was just a coincidence” Jackson spoke in a low tone, but his eyes were wide with curiosity. 

“She got what she deserved” Jonathan answered in a dead tone. 

“Fuck, you really are crazy!” Jackson bellowed out. 

Your cries increased, causing both sets of eyes to snap onto you. Jackson tutted and leant down to you, his warm hands somehow sent shivers down your skin as he caressed you. Jonathan watched with intrigue as he tried to calm you. Jackson was treating you like a lost puppy. 

“Babygirl, babygirl… Calm down, I’m sorting out your new home, my little brother just loves to be a stuck up twat at times'' Jackson chuckled, his thumb rolled over your chin whilst you tried to get your crying under control. 

“You need to leave” Jonathan stated sharply, his arms crossed over his chest yet again. Jackson looked over his shoulder. 

“Jonathan, I hate to put it all on you. But if you can’t take her, I’ll have to kill her” he said casually.

You screamed out and Jonathan’s cock couldn’t help but to twitch in his trousers. Had he been hard this whole entire time? But Jonathan shook off those urges. 

“I don’t care what you do with her. I will not be involved in your affairs again” Jonathan determined. 

“Fuuuck, I’m sorry babygirl… I tried my best, I really did” Jackson sighed as he pulled out a switchblade from his pocket. You shrieked out and squirmed around frantically.

“Fuck Jackson, not here!” Jonathan hissed. 

“Oh, her screams can be piercing. I can’t risk her drawing attention as I’m stuck in rush hour” Jackson explained. 

He balled his fists, but reluctantly let go of all of his anger as he locked eyes with you. The fear, oh the fear on your face was a perfect performance. It was hypnotizing. Jonathan was ready to drop to his knees to beg for you completely. But he knew he could bend you in whatever way. Jackson was as smart as he was dumb. It was a foolish move to offer you to him, Jonathan would corrupt you in ways neither of you knew. 

His hand rested on his shoulder as Jackson taunted the blade towards you. 

“Enough” Jonathan blinked.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do Johnny?” Jackson acted dumb, a mischief grin on his lips.

Jonathan didn’t reply, his eyes glued onto yours. Your words were muffled, but it was clear as day with how desperately you were pleading for your life. There was that look again, one that Jackson almost forgot about. The seed of obsession finally sprouted in Jonathan’s eyes. 

“She has lovely eyes, doesn’t she?” Jackson hummed. 

“Yes, you’re correct” Jonathan replied. “Does she have a name?” he asked softly. 

Jackson murmured your name and Jonathan couldn’t resist but to groan it out. Such a fitting name. But the color or size of your eyes wasn’t the reason for your beauty. It was the fear that swam like pretty fish in a pond. Jonathan reached out to touch you and you flinched, your chest shaking. 

“Shh, you don’t have to be scared sweetheart. I won’t hurt you” Jonathan assured as he slowly went to touch you again.

Not yet always. 

“Oh, you poor thing… You’re so cold” Jonathan pouted as his hands traveled over your thighs. “Open the door” Jonathan ordered as he reached into the boot to pick you up. 

“Okay boss” Jackson grinned as he headed towards the door. 

Jonathan sat you up on the sofa in the living room, followed by both of the brothers sitting at either side of you. Their similar soft blue eyes beamed into your soul, you weren’t sure which one to look at. For the familiar brother had this dark smug look on his face and the other one’s eyes were dissecting you like a pig. So you resulted in staring at a random spot in the living room, you glued your eyes onto the cream lamp, and tried to find the beauty in its design. Your shoulders caved forward, skin trembled, but thankfully Jonathan already had the heating on. It was sure that you’d warm up in no time. 

“Is she resistant?” Jonathan asked, his hands trailing over your bounded hands. 

The red marks on your skin were mixed of fresh and old, he wondered how often you tried to break free. Jackson’s hand slipped through your hair to your scalp, he scratched your head as he admired you. 

“Timid little thing she is. She’s quite cooperative. I doubt she’d dare to look in the wrong direction with the two of us here” Jackson answered with a dark smile. 

Jonathan examined your body, a soft exhale escaped his lips as his hands ran up and down your bare skin. Daringly, you locked eyes with the twin brother, his eyes softened, a smirk crept onto his lips. 

“You’re so cold sweetheart. So, so cold. Couldn’t he have given you something warmer to wear?” Jonathan teased as he leant closer to you, his breath fanned at your skin. Typically, you shuddered, which he adored. 

“Not my fault she kicked off her blanket” Jackson shrugged his shoulders, no empathy in sight. 

Jonathan gently undid your gag. A deep inhale came from you as you rotated your tense, aching jaw. Then you looked over to your abductor. 

“Ja-Jackson” you whimpered out hoarsely, your jaw stung. 

Jackson was quick to move his body towards yours, his cruel arms wrapped over your shoulders as he rubbed his nose against your cheek. A hint of jealousy flashed in Jonathan’s bright blue eyes, his arms should be around you, your body should be leaning into his. You laid your head on him as you tried to stretch out your jaw. How was it that you were showing trust to your abuser? Jackson’s eyes flickered from you both, he instantly picked up on the thoughts running through Jonathan’s mind. 

“It’s okay baby girl, my brother will be gentle… Maybe” Jackson chaffed as he patted your inner thigh. He leant into your ear, but didn’t bother to whisper. “Give Johnny a kiss for welcoming us into his home” he ordered. 

Your lips wobbled as you examined the seriousness in his command. Submissively, you turned your head towards Jonathan. A frustrated exhale left Jonathan’s lips, he didn’t like Jackson being in control still. But at the same time he couldn’t pass on feeling the sensation of your lips combined. You suckled on his lower lip breifly. Then Jonathan deepened the kiss, his hands tugged your body onto his, Jackson chuckled knowingly. With his tongue deep in your mouth, he explored every inch of you. The way your innocent moans and whimpers would vibrate was celestial. 

Jackson pressed his front against your behind. One hand rested on your hip whilst the other tangled itself into your hair. Playfully, he’d gently tug your head back, just to watch Jonathan’s expression turn more animalistic as he tried to keep your mouths combined. After a few minutes of that, Jackson abruptly pulled your head back, his head pressed against the side of your neck, Jonathan’s eyes narrowed.

“Come on baby girl, show him your gratitude and suck his cock” Jackson kindly suggested.

Jackson pushed you onto the floor, not harshly yet not kindly. With his cock begging to be set free from his trousers, Jonathan couldn’t look past that idea. Eagerly, he unbuckled his belt and welcomed his aching member. The binds made it hard for you to get comfortable on your knees, but you quickly shuffled closer to Jonathan. 

He leant forward to make it easier for you, his hands slipped into your hair as he guided you down his length. Jonathan was longer, Jackson was thicker. But they both had that same smooth look. Your eyes squeezed shut with embarrassment as you tried to do good, just like Jackson taught you to. You gagged out as you finally reached the base, it was so difficult to do with your hands restrained. 

Jackson praised you, his hand rubbing your shoulder as fresh tears broke free. Even though Jackson’s comments were irritating, Jonathan couldn’t help but to like how it motivated you to keep going. 

 “Fuck sweetheart, you’re doing a terrific job” Jonathan complimented as he caressed the side of your face with the back of his hand.

“Alright, come here baby girl, it’s my turn” Jackson hummed as he slipped his hand to his belt. 

A tidal wave of jealousy crashed over Jonathan suddenly. Literally fuck that, Jonathan will not be edged to watch his brother enjoy your sweet mouth. The same mouth that he had been abusing for months now. The mouth that is supposed to be a gift for him. His hands held your head towards his base. 

“No, your lips will stay around my cock until I finish” Jonathan demanded calmly, your cheeks hollowed out to please him. 

“Johnny” Jackson warned as his fingers tightened around his leather belt. 

“You brought her here for me, did you not?” Jonathan challenged, cocking a confident brow towards him.  

“So fucking greedy” Jackson muttered as he fell back onto the couch. Jonathan scoffed at his remark. His palm kneaded over his bulge, eyes fluttered with boredom of being cockblocked by his brother of all people. “Come on baby girl, show him how good I taught you to be” he coached as he noticed Jonathan’s shoulders tremble lightly. 

He leant forward again, your head bobbed up and down almost mechanically. Just the way he taught you so. Then, his member slipped free from your mouth, you ran your tongue down underneath and suckled on his balls. A quick, pathetic moan slipped out of his lips. A mischief grin grew on Jackson’s lips as he observed Jonathan try to keep a composed expression and figure. Jonathan used to moan all of the time, it was cute, him trying to act all tough nowadays.  

“Come on baby, pretend it’s me in your mouth” Jackson egged on, his tongue licked over his lips. Jonathan’s nostrils flared as he saw you look over to his brother. 

“Don’t listen to him and look at me” Jonathan ordered harshly.

His mouth fell open, vicious growls grunted out as his hands tugged at your roots to guide your mouth back throat deep onto him. When he spurted his white thick ropes out, his hips raised and eyes rolled back. A long overdue moan echoed throughout the room. You kept your head down like a good girl indeed. Gradually, he freed you and you gasped out for air. 

They both admired the way you struggled for calm breathing. The way your eyes squeezed shut, chest heaved and body trembled. Finally, Jackson undid his belt and pulled it from the loops. 

“So are we going to fuck her together like old times or what?” Jackson arrogantly asked as he stood up. 

Jonathan scoffed and stood up quickly, he squeezed his base to get the blood flowing again. “What makes you think I desire to go back to that trauma?” Jonathan dissed.

“Wow, time has certainly changed you” Jackson snorted. “Come on Johnny, for old times sake” he smirked, his hand resting on his shoulder. 

When you coughed out, the taste of salt all over your tongue, they both looked down at you. You sat on your side, your legs curled in and arms propped in front of you to hold your tired body up. It showed all of your curves perfectly. 

“Such an ideal body” Jonathan whispered, Jackson hummed in agreement. “Help me untie her” Jonathan ordered suddenly as he got onto the floor with you. 

Both of the brothers’ hands trailed over your skin. The goosebumps weren’t from the coldness anymore. Gentle moans escaped your lips as Jackson squeezed those random sensitive spots on your body, a cheeky smirk on his lips as he untied your feet. Jonathan’s eyes stalked you as he untied your wrists, you gulped as you looked up to him, he nodded his head to reassure you.Your body ached completely, you brought your hand up to your mouth and wiped it clean. 

“Gonna need to stretch you out completely after this” Jonathan sighed.

Jonathan lifted you up, his arms wrapped around the small of your back. Jackson came up and pressed himself up behind you. Jonathan coached you to reach up to the ceiling, praising you as you held your arms up to help relieve some of the tension in your body. Whilst Jackson kissed your neck sloppily, praising you of how good you always smell and taste.  

“She’s scared of you” Jonathan pointed out.

The look in your eyes was too familiar for him to determine as anything else. Jackson chuckled at the elephant in the room.   

“Yeah I mean I did steal her away, but she still likes me, don’t you baby?” Jackson murmured. 

“Y-yes Jackson” you whispered, your head turning slightly back. 

“She’s really shy, it'll take some time for her to talk to you” Jackson mocked smugly. 

“Hold her up” Jonathan clicked his tongue. 

Jonathan dropped to his knees and spread your knees apart. A shudder echoed through you as his slender digits traced over your inner thighs. Teasingly, he slowly pulled your thong off and planted gentle kisses on your calves. Then his fingers brushed over your glistering bare cunt. He could only assume that Jackson waxed you regularly, he hated hair down there. But all of the drip that trickled down your legs fueled his ego. He didn’t realize someone could get so turned on by giving head. Firstly he nibbled at the skin near your entrance. Gradually, his tongue motioned over to your clit, then he took your folds in his mouth. Embarrassed, you bit onto the insides of your cheeks, your moans grumbled out of you as your hips squirmed around.

“Don’t hold back your moaning baby, let it all out” Jackson chuckled, his hand slipped underneath your bra and pinched at your hardened nipple. 

Following his orders, you let up your shameful moans and flexed your hips back and forward. Jonathan grinned as he held onto the back of your thighs, his tongue deep in your warmth. You tasted like a golden apple, his tongue flicked over to every spongy spot it could reach. Your head fell back on Jackson’s shoulders as you felt your orgasm grow within your heated skin. His fingers rolled over your nipple as Jonathan rubbed his nose against your clit. A sudden hypnotic moan erupted in the room as you entered your state of pure bliss. You could have sworn that you saw stars, but you always thought you saw stars these days since being in Jackson’s care. 

You slumped into Jackson’s arms. Jonathan took great pleasure in cleaning up your climax. Leaving plenty of sloppy kisses on your inner thighs afterwards. With a gentle tug to his newly formed erection, he looked up to your beauty. 

“Thank you Jonathan” you gulped out as he rose to his feet. 

Jackson smirked behind you as Jonathan smiled softly at you. Manners were always a requirement for him, he’s taught you so well…

“Anytime sweetheart” Jonathan winked. 

“You want to fuck her pussy first or what?” Jackson winked back at Jonathan. 

Jonathan’s sweet expression soured instantaneously. 

“Her cunt is mine only” Jonathan spat with possessiveness, eyes two pitch black pools of greed. 

“Jonathan” Jackson gritted his teeth. “You’re skating on thin ice, I’m not a nice guy if given blue balls” he addressed, his hold on you tightened. 

“Want me to forgive you? I’m having this my way” Jonathan fought, a daring look on his face. 

“Fine, just for tonight though” Jackson exhaled dramatically as his hand rolled over your lips. “Are we going to the bedroom?” Jackson teased as Jonathan pressed his front to yours again.

“You’re not stepping foot into my room” Jonathan huffed. 

“Fuck my bad” Jackson rolled his eyes. 

There was zero care in Jonathan’s blood as he kissed you passionately, your body pressed back up against Jackson. Your arms trembled as you hesitantly wrapped them around his neck. Swiftly, Jonathan pulled you away from his brother, his hands carefully roamed over your bare skin and gripped onto your rear. 

“Okay darling, you’re gonna show me how well you can ride my cock, you okay with that?” Jonathan hummed as he guided you back to the couch. 

You tried to look over to Jackson for assurance, but Jonathan pressed his fingers to your jaw, keeping your eyes on him. Jackson watched darkly behind, his arms crossed over his chest as Jonathan whispered words into your ear. Then, you were carefully unbuttoning Jonathan’s white shirt. Jackson’s nostrils flared as he started to unbutton his own. When his undershirt was pulled over his head, Jonathan fell onto the couch, making sure that you straddled his snatched waist. 

He took off his glasses, but smiled as your beauty was still clear. Guiding your eager cunt above his dripping tip, you weighed your body onto his. You whined sweetly as every inch brought a new nourishing sensation to your tunnel. As you adjusted to his length, Jonathan grinned smugly at Jackson. 

“Here’s what we are going to do… We’re going to show Jacky how much better I fuck you? Alright sweetheart?” Jonathan instructed optimistically. 

“Oh Jonathan! Where did this confidence come from!” Jackson praised as he clapped his hands together.

Despite the heavy attempt to be cockblocked and degraded, he couldn’t help but to feel proud of Jonathan. Back in the day, Jonathan practically sat in the corner waiting for his turn. He’d be so shy, timid, awkward with a girl. Jackson really had to coach Jonathan on what to do, and how not to finish so damn fast. 

Jonathan ignored Jackson and motioned his hips up and down, the pace increased with each thrust. As the motions picked up, your usual stiff figure seemed to be melting like candle wax. Your head was buried in the crook of Jonathan’s neck, but Jackson had a perfect view of your needy hips acting like a bitch in heat. That look in Jonathan’s eyes was nothing that Jackson had ever seen in him before. 

A look of fear crossed Jackson’s face. The realization that Jonathan was going to be completely possessed by you spiked his jealousy. The idea of it felt perfect in his head, but now that it was real, Jackson feared he’d regret it the next time he’d drop by. Jonathan was going to corrupt you. Turn his good girl bad. 

No, fuck that. You’d remember who you truly belong to, always. 

Your legs were pushed out on the couch, cheeks spread apart, back hole on display for Jackson like a toy store at Christmas time. Finally, Jackson stripped his upper body naked and freed his eager member, soundlessly stepping towards you. 

“Jackson” Jonathan growled as he pressed his tip to your back hole. 

“Oh trust me, she loves anal” Jackson promised, one hand on your hip, the other on his size. 

You didn’t like it, it was clear by your initial expression. Immediately your stomach tensed as you felt Jackson intruding your back tunnel. The logic inside made Jonathan want to push Jackson off of you. However, he liked how frightened you were of Jackson, and how dependent you were on him instead because of it. Even if you didn’t notice it yet, because he had already picked up on how your arms are tightened around his neck and face inched closer to his. Likewise to what Jackson said, it works to his benefit. 

“You’ll be okay sweetheart, just look at me okay?” Jonathan reassured. 

You were crying intensely, but Jonathan couldn’t help but to get turned on even more by it. Luckily for you, Jonathan wasn’t a massive fan of anal either. So you’d never have to worry around him. Jackson’s thrusts were forceful, his lower lip in between his teeth as he took out the frustration Jonathan forced on him. Even though you hated having your backside abused, your puckered hole always seemed to wrap around his cock perfectly. 

“Such a good girl, you’re doing a terrific job sweetheart” Jonathan continued on, his hips rotated in circles. 

“Yeah, taking two fucking cocks. That's my good little whore” Jackson huffed as he slapped your rear. 

“Jo- Ja-” you panted, not knowing who’s name to moan. 

“Say it, say my name” Jonathan urged, his damp fingers pressed against your clit. 

“Jonathan” you whined pathetically. 

Jonathan smiled wickedly and hummed his praise. Earning a dirty look from Jackson. Jackson’s hand looped your hair as he pulled you back. He snarled by your ear, his nostrils flaring like a beast. 

“Jackson!” you panted, earning a satisfied grin from him. 

“Still my good girl?” Jackson whispered, out of Jonathan’s range. 

“Yes!” you promised instantly. 

“Good girl” Jackson grumbled before he pressed his lips to your heated cheek. 

He stayed over your back, giving you sloppy kisses left, right and center. It wasn’t common for Jackson to kiss you, only mainly during aftercare. But this urge inside of him demanded to show his brother who’s property you really were at the end of the day. 

“Doesn’t her pussy just feel like paradise Jonathan?” Jackson smirked, their cocks slowly disappearing and reappearing out of you. 

“It does” he agreed gleefully. 

“Understand why I said best fuck now?” he asked confidently. 

“Certainly” Jonathan moaned as you clenched around him. 

No one was sure if it was a competition as to who would finish first or last. Jonathan brushed your cervix repetitively, you moaned out in awe, a wide smile on your lips as your hips rocked faster and faster. Jackson hardly had to move his hips, you were that energetic. Both of them soon worried if they would be able to keep up with you. 

“Fuck baby girl, I’m close… Are you?” Jackson exhaled, his hands squeezed your cheeks. 

“She is” Jonathan chimed in, the corners of his lips wide apart. “I can feel her squeezing me for dear life” he pointed out. 

“Fuck Jonathan!” you suddenly screamed, a beautiful piece of art of pain and pleasure on your face. 

“That feels perfect doesn’t it?” Jonathan teased, his fingers caressed your cheeks. 

Jackson was gobsmacked. Where did Jonathan learn to talk like this, him, obviously. But it was almost like looking into his reflection, Jonathan had stepped out of his shell and broke it to pieces. Not to mention his dick game seemed to be evolved into a unknown creature. 

“Ughh! So good Jonathan! So-so” you stammered.

Your vision turned blurry as you felt your second orgasm climb higher than it ever has before. Never had Jackson heard you so vocal. Yes he could turn you into a moaning mess, but rarely would he get proper words out of you. You were just always so timid around Jackson. Somehow Jonathan has already gotten under your skin and Jackson found himself pumping his cock into you the way he knew it would make you scream. 

Jackson had always treated you like a shiny obnoxiously big trophy. He wanted to show off how he always had the best in the world. But Jonathan treated you like a priceless artifact, almost worshiping you even though you were supposed to be at his feet. It was known that he was studying you right now, figuring you out completely as you turned into a complete slut for them. Both of the brothers suffered from hubris traits. One of them may end up dying for you one day. 

You came first, Jackson thought that he’d melt into goo with how your entire body tensed. They both had to hold onto you as your body shook with massive vibrations. Your head dropped forward, Jonathan kissed you passionately as he pumped his tip against your sensitive walls. The sound of your moans were so angelic, they could listen to you for hours. 

Then followed Jonathan, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. His hold on you tightened as his cock completely disappeared inside of you. As your canal was marked in his white ropes, Jonathan gave you a tender kiss as he shuddered. Proudly, Jackson came last, filling your back tunnel full of his cum. It was always a sight to see his seed drip out of your holes. Somewhat instinctively, you pushed your body back up against Jackson. It took all of your strength, but Jackson held onto you and kissed you sensually. With his hands massaging your posterior, he let you go back to lay on Jonathan. All of you were covered in hot sweat, but only you and Jonathan were out of breath. 

“Oh, how I’m going to miss you babygirl” Jackson murmured to himself as he fixed his trousers back to normal. 

The two of you were latched as one, your eyes closed as Jonathan’s hands traced over your upper arms. With your head buried back in the crook of his neck, Jackson chuckled as he slipped on his undershirt. 

“Yeah, she loves to be held afterwards. She’ll quickly fall asleep in your arms if you don’t let go” he explained arrogantly, beginning to button up his dress shirt. 

“You can leave now Jackson” Jonathan exhaled, his nose twitched. 

“Oh come on, I won’t say goodbye to her that easily. I have to stay at least a couple of days, my flight isn’t until next week so no point in trying to get rid of me” Jackson laughed softly. 

He needed the next few days to ensure you remember whose feet you’ll always kneel before. The challenge would be fun. But Jackson couldn’t help but to bloom as the nostalgic sensation, he missed Jonathan. Not that he’d ever admit that. 

“How about I go get us all some takeaway and you two can get to know each other better in the meantime?” Jackson cocked an eyebrow. It was always a yes in his opinion if Jonathan remained silent. He picked up his jacket and waltzed towards the front entrance. “Still like Japanese!” Jackson called out before slamming the door shut. 

Your head popped up at the sound, you gulped, your mouth dry and reality weighing heavily on you. His soft blue eyes returned to their dark state. As your figure turned stiff, Jonathan smirked at the mellow fearful look in your eyes. 

“Fuck sweetheart, I just might need to call in sick for work tomorrow” he admitted.

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 .

# with akagami no shanks.

the captain was drunk — and a bit self-conscious. not to fret, for you were his favorite entertainer.

KINKTOBER, day ten. smut (mdni!). strip-tease. lap dance. masturbation (reader!receiving). thigh riding. dry humping. usage of conqueror’s haki. afab!reader. no y/n used.

WC: 1.9k.

akagami no shanks had lost his arm.

upon his return to the wild seas of the new world, those had been the most frowned upon words. the fearsome captain, the unmovable force, somehow would miss a limb forevermore. the reactions were but a divergent cacophony. fear — for what human could achieve such a feat? was it even a human? if not so, how close was the beast? if it had been enough to face him, what chance did the commoners have? anger — for mihawk no longer had a worthy rival. it would be far from honorable to face in combat a swordsman whose dominant arm was gone. and, at last, curiosity — for why was the truth hidden? one did not brag about a loss, but aside from overused jokes, shanks refused to spare a single word. who was he protecting? it was hilarious to witness the fuss as part of the select number of people aware of what had, in truth, happened.

akagami no shanks had lost his arm. and you had been the one to hear his puns ever since.

of course, he faced decent struggles. waking at night phantom pain; forced to master the art of the sword yet again with a hand he had no experience with whatsoever. yet, above the frustration soared an undeniable truth — for luffy, it had been worth it. besides, a decade past and shanks had grew accustomed to the mandatory shifts, living as though had not lost a thing.

however, as it seemed, there was yet one he would never cease to whine about.

the man was drunk — a common occurrence — and awfully clingy — another common occurrence. you had dragged him from the bar, pitying the poor beckman, for the man deserved a break from the captain’s shenanigans, and shanks had been hugging your waist ever since. he sat on the bed, drooling on your flesh, not allowing you to at least go fetch some water. his grip was a prison of itself on usual hours, but it did not help that you, too, were a bit intoxicated, swaying to the sides and failing to pull his face off your body.

“dooooooooooooll,” he drawled out, hiccuping. “i miss your ass.”

shanks gripped a considerable amount of flesh, daring to whine. “get over it, you’re a grown man.”

“how mean, i am half a grown man,” he laughed at said joke, biting the bare inch of your waist.

“half a man deserves half an ass,” you stated matter-of-factly, fighting off the urge to let out a hiccup yourself.

“but i miss groping both sides at the same time,” shanks insisted, dragging his nose on your belly, daring to grow drunker on your scent.

“you never had this complaint with my tits,” you pointed out, to which he liked his lips, seemingly aroused all of the sudden.

the hand pinching at your waist trailed itself up to rest on one of your breasts, his once slouched figure straightening up so that he could drag a sloppy stripe across your covered nipple. he had no problem with it whatsoever, for he was a man of considerable height.

“i can tease both of my girls at the same time,” he stated, wetting the fabric of your shirt, grinning at the elicit expression. “i can’t slap both your asscheeks at the same time anymore.”

your nipple hardened due to his ministrations, all but his for the taking, for you hadn’t felt the need to wear a bra that night. shanks closed his lips around the bud, humming as he sucked on it, spit soaking clothing and skin alike.

“and you like it,” the man teased, voice a bit muffled; rough.

you arched your back with a sigh, gripping locks of red hair, falling prey to his sensual tongue. yet, though your glance was tethered to his face, shanks’ own eyes seemed ever-so-lost, melancholic, even. you caught on the instance he moved his other shoulder, as though aiming to grip your hip with a nonexistent arm — a maintained instinct despite the absence of the limb. shanks laid down, retreating from your figure altogether, explicit vulnerability that would not have been shown otherwise, was he not drunk.

“see, doll? half a man,” he scoffed, to which your eyes narrowed; face scrunching in concentration as you then pondered on how to comfort him.

your fingers tugged at the waistband of his pants, whistling with faux innocence. shanks observed your approach with hooded eyes, laughing with delight once your chest was pressed against his own.

“my poor, poor husband,” you teased, pleased to witness the sudden shift in his attitude.

shanks and you hadn’t officiated the marriage; no celebration to be seen whatsoever. it had been the initial plan, two years prior. however, with newgate’s death and the aftermath of the war, waiting on a better period was the agreement. that did not mean the titles weren’t used, and shanks, in particular, never failed to be aroused whenever the word husband fell past your lips. a decade worth of lovemaking, too, made you more than attuned to what had him squirming.

“how i hate to see you so sorrowful,” you hummed, kissing the scars etched on the flesh of his eye. “i will fix that.”

“yeah, doll?” he grunted, growing excited when you dodged his advances. “how so?”

shanks sat on the edge of your shared bed, widening smirk and lustful eyes following your every move. you spun around the room, strutting your hips and nearing the corner, positioned far from his reach.

“you’re not allowed to touch,” you ordered, far more daring due to the alcohol. “just watch.”

shanks had his legs spread, a growing erection visible through the thin fabric of his pants. you opened the small, circular window, allowing the music from the outside bar to travel inside. your hips moved accordingly to the beat, an established sensual pace that had your fingers hovering over your breasts as you spun and approached him with languid steps.

you danced around the border of his reach, teasing the thin grip he had on his self-restraint. when he dared move, you dodged with a fit of giggles. “how should we start, sea emperor?”

he groaned at the title. “let me see your tits, doll.”

you hummed, rolling your hips with a languid sensualness born from the usual influence of alcohol. your fingers teased the straps of your shirt, trailing down the fabric until you reached the button of your shirts. rather than listening to his request, you sluggishly tugged down the zipper, perching your ass up as you slowly turned around, movements following the rhythm from the music outside.

the loose piece of clothing threatened to fall, yet you held the hem, controlling the pace of its trajectory, rolling your hips; lowering yourself on your knees. when it was, at last, off, you kicked it away, snapping the strap of your underwear. shanks had a brief sight of your soaked cunt before he was forced to face your front yet again. he cleared his throat, eyes trailed to the lacy, borderline transparent, fabric that left near nothing to the imagination.

“tits?” you mocked, trailing your fingers down your clothed labia.

shanks was left conflicted, his inebriated mind struggling to wrap itself around what to answer. would you concede if he reacted positively? or would you tease him yet again, offering the much desired sight of your intimacy? how could he outsmart that? shanks was far too drunk for an elaborate plan.

“thighs,” he answered smugly, a grin that indicated he felt all much too quirky.

you parted your legs open, pinching and grabbing the bare flesh, mimicking his touch. your lover was drooling, observing the outline of your intimacy; stroking his clothed member. yet again, a temptive roll of your hips deprived him of what he yearned for. shanks gripped his cock, growing out of patience as your fingers gripped the hem of your shirt, raising it ever-so-slowly, a languid set pace. you stretched the fabric, biting on it in order to keep your nipples covered, using your fingers to tease said hardened buds, muffled moans and dancing matching the melody of the song.

when the saliva started dripping down your chin; staining your shirt; you removed it, spinning it on your finger until it fell at his feet.

“doll,” he warned, sweat surging on his temples, ceasing the ministrations of his hand on the hardened member. “c’mere.”

“nuh uh,” you sang, turning around on purpose. shanks had the entire sight of your cunt when you lowered down to remove your panties, dancing with it stuck between your teeth, growing hot at the explicit lust on his eyes.

“come to me,” he demanded, the applied pressure stealing your free-will.

your dance ceased altogether, for shanks had dared use his conqueror’s haki to guarantee compliance. your figure stumbled towards the awaiting man, his index beckoning you in a mocking manner.

“sit on my lap,” you conceded, no questions asked. shanks gripped your chin, a lonesome finger tugging at the lacy underwear dangling from your lips. “i want that.”

he opened his mouth, forcing yours to mimic the movement. your panties fell on his tongue, and he moaned at the taste of your essence, the loud slurping causing your walls to clench around air. you whimpered, neglected and unable to move, and shanks all but spat out the piece of clothing, rutting his hips as though a hound in heat.

“turn around,” he instructed, groaning when you brushed against him. your ass rested on his clothed cock, legs spread and back arched, prepared for whatever he had in store. “dance for me, doll.”

the music fell on deaf ears, overthrown by the choir of your moans once you started to move, the roll of your hips teasing your clit, growing swollen due to the texture of his pants. shanks panted, leaning forward. he sucked on your earlobe, twisting one of your nipples as he teased the clothed erection under your bare entrance. the dancing grew sloppy, for he had your back pressed against his chest; his lips latched to your neck. shanks made out with the flesh, spit trailing down your breast, the wetness used to tease your abused nipple.

shanks’ feet sunk down on the ground for further support, and he interrupted the languid roll of your figure on his lap by rutting his hips, forcing his clothed cock to rub itself on your folds. he licked a trail up your chin, biting on the bone, tilting your head with his nose. expert fingers left your breast to dance down your stomach, finding themselves a home amidst your folds. he drew fast-paced circles on your clit, and you closed your eyes, moaning at the sensation. your legs trembled, thighs burning, yet the pressure of his command lingered. you were but a puppet whose strings he pulled, dancing despite your own tiredness.

the growing knot at the pit of your stomach snapped, your orgasm arriving with treacherous swiftness, for the alcohol had done its part when enhancing your pleasure. shanks laughed, shoving his fingers past your parted lips without warning, forcing you to taste yourself; to lick him clean.

he wrapped his arm around your figure to throw you against the mattress. you had but a brief sight of him — removing his clothes, standing in naked glory — before he hovered above you, teasing your slick, sensitive entrance with his leaking tip.

“you were kind enough to dance,” shanks mocked, his lips mere inches away from your own; hot breath fanning over your face. “but the spectacle won’t be complete until i have you singing.”

— 🐈‍⬛ : i’m running out of things to write here omg, happy kinktober? 😭

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (2)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst!! (poor Az :/)

a/n: I hope you enjoyy!! :) More to come obvi <3 This is gonna be a long one.

Part 1 ♡, Part 3 ☾

Series Masterlist

~~

Did the small wooden box on the top shelf of the closet have meaning? 

Was it significant? 

From the bed centered in the middle of the room, you let your eyes take you along the delicate carvings in the wood. They looped and curved, dropping off in the pattern of a star, and then a moon, and then a misshapen cloud. 

You knocked your head to the side, ignoring the deep pain lingering there, and glanced at the empty spot on the dresser by the door. It was the exact size of the box. And the box—in its new, seemingly hidden location—looked haphazardly placed. 

Did they move it for a reason? 

Did they think you wouldn’t notice? 

Was this even your bedroom? 

You figured it must be. Clothes that looked to be your size were hanging in the closet. A vanity sat by the window with products on it that might compliment your complexion. There were paintings you found yourself enjoying hanging on the walls. 

So this must be your bedroom… but there was something missing. 

And it looked as if nothing was in the right place, but you had no frame of reference for where it was all supposed to be. 

You just knew that that wooden box didn’t belong under a knit sweater in the closet. 

The creak of the door drew your attention away from the apparent inaccuracy of the room. Two people entered, and it was a small mercy that you found some recognition in their faces. Majda and Mor slinked into the room, the latter with a sheepish, shy smile on her face, and clicked the door shut with a muted click. 

“Hi,” Mor greeted, as Majda set an absurdly large bag on the bedside table. The blonde shifted her weight between her feet. “My name is Mor. We met in the forest, do you remember?” 

Do you remember? 

It was unintentionally cruel. 

You nodded your head, not trusting your voice when it was so unfamiliar. 

Mor’s smile brightened a touch. “I was hoping you would. Although, with everything that happened I wasn’t going to put too much pressure on you.” She winked, and you were left feeling like an outsider in your own conversation. 

Majda bustled around your bed, asking permission before touching your head and your neck. You granted it to her, if only because she was the only person in the room not attempting to drive an uncomfortable conversation. Mor seemed very sweet, but she was hovering over you and glancing your way as if you were going to explode. 

Maybe you were going to explode. 

It’s not like you would know if that was a common occurrence for you. 

“I know you’ve woken up a few times since returning ho—here,” Mor quickly corrected, playing with her fingers and shifting onto her toes. “You were confused for a while before you fell back to sleep. Do you remember that?” 

Do you remember that? 

You shook your head. Majda’s hands glowed and warmed against your skull. 

Mor pursed her lips. “Hm, I suppose that’s to be expected. It was all a bit disorienting.” 

There were a few moments of silence. Mor dropped herself into the chair that had been pulled up beside the bed, fidgeting every so often. The old healer continued her assessment of you as you stared blankly out the window and tried to pretend there weren’t a pair of brown eyes burning a hole into the side of your face. You could hear footsteps beyond your door. 

They would pace one way, and then the other. 

“No change.” Majda’s voice startled you out of your stupor. She gave you kind eyes and a pat on your cheek. “This is above my abilities. I’m sorry. You are in good health, otherwise.” 

“My head,” you croaked out. Gods, how long had you been asleep? “It hurts. Hasn’t stopped.” 

The healer hummed. “I can give you some tonics, but until the source of this amnesia is sorted out, there will be no definitive fix.” 

A few glass vials clinked against the side table as Majda placed them there and slung her bag over her shoulder. She shared a few hushed words with Mor and then went to the door, swinging it wide as she stepped through it. You caught the tip of a wing in the doorframe, saw those same shadows from before curve around the hinges and pull towards you. 

They were ushered back just as quickly, and then the door shut as well, hiding the hints of your visitor. 

You hadn’t noticed you’d craned your neck to catch a glimpse until you righted it. When you heard more voices in the hall, you looked down at your fingers, blinking back tears you didn’t understand the origins of. 

“Sometimes, you like to read,” Mor said, breaking the silence. “You were in the middle of this book.” 

She placed the thick novel on the blanket beside your legs. Glancing up at Mor’s encouraging smile, you picked it up, feeling its weight in your hand instead of giving in to the one in your chest. You thumbed along the spine and then at the edges of the pages, stopping when your fingers caught on a sharp edge at the top. 

A bookmark—a place where you’d left off. You flipped it open but couldn’t follow a bit of it. 

More tears left your throat feeling thick. 

“What happens now?” you quietly asked, trying desperately not to cry in front of this woman that you didn’t know. 

“Now—” Mor began, clearing her own throat, her voice just as raw as yours. When she sat by your legs, you let some of the glossiness in your eyes show. “—we take things slow. Majda said we shouldn’t rush things until we find a source. Rhys—Rhysand… the one with the pointed ears and a pompous attitude—is in contact with other courts to try and get some help. There are other people in our Inner Circle that might be able to help as well.” 

You bit into your bottom lip until it hurt. “I’m part of this circle?” 

Mor’s smile was sad. “You are.” 

~~ 

You shifted in front of the mirror, uncomfortable despite being alone. It had been three days since you woke up, and each of those three days had been spent in your bedroom. Your bedroom, you had confirmed with Mor. 

The only two people you had been in contact with were Mor and Majda. You could hear other voices in the hall, sometimes see a shadow pass by your balcony at night, but you only ever spoke to Mor. Majda didn’t say much when she came in to check your head and drop off more vials.

“We don’t want to overwhelm you,” Mor had said, but there was something else, too. You weren’t comfortable enough to pry. She looked disappointed that you accepted her reasoning so easily. 

The three days were spent mostly alone, which you hadn’t minded, but the time spent with Mor was filled with stories about you. Where you grew up, how long you studied, all of your favorite things; she was in the business of introducing you to yourself, and she was definitely qualified for the job. 

You had asked her who she was to you, and you received a simple answer at that. 

“I’m your family,” she had said, and then she began talking about you again. 

She always got quiet when you spoke of your connection to others. 

Which was why you had suggested a lunch. 

You spent the better part of the last three days panicking, and then moping, and then aimlessly searching your bedroom for any hints of the life you led before this. All avenues either left you with a headache or emotional exhaustion. 

You remembered the three other men from that day—Rhysand, Azriel, and the one with the longer hair—Cassian, Mor had called him. You wanted to meet them properly… introduce yourself? A ridiculous notion; according to Mor, you’d known everyone for the past 300 years. 

But you didn’t know them, not really. 

And Azriel’s shadows—you wanted to see them the most. You’d been searching for the calm they offered you since the day you woke up, but couldn’t find it in their absence. 

“Are you ready?” Mor asked, a soft knock on the other side of the door. 

“I think so,” you called back. You’d grown more accustomed to the sound of your voice. It was still strange to hear the sound echo back in your head, but as long as you didn’t scream or yell, it was tolerable. 

Mor opened the door, took in your choice of clothes—a purple dress with sleeves that flowed past the wrists—and tried to hide the flutter of her lashes. 

Embarrassment immediately found you. “Was I not supposed to wear this? It was in the back of the closet so I thought—” 

“You look lovely,” Mor assured, linking your arm with hers. Touch was another thing you were growing accustomed to. It was easy with Mor. “You just haven’t worn that in a while. I was surprised to see it.” 

As she walked you down halls you had never seen before, you huffed out a dry laugh. “Well, this is the first time I’m seeing it.” 

Your joke fell flat. Mor smiled back at you, but it was the same smile you always saw. Sad, pained, bittersweet. 

“Who did you say was attending?” you asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from her sad smiles. 

“Just me, Azriel, and Cassian. There are a few more people we typically see on a daily basis, but we wanted to start out small.” 

“To not overwhelm me.” 

“Precisely.” 

Your steps were silent on the marble floor, the silk slippers you chose allowing some of the chill to seep into your toes. “So, why did they choose you?” 

Mor blinked and turned a confused expression your way. “What do you mean?” 

“Why did they choose you as the one person that speaks to me? Are you the least overwhelming of the bunch?” 

“Well that title certainly wouldn’t go to Cassian,” Mor grumbled out. She guided you to a large wooden door and offered you a shrug of her shoulders that looked far too nonchalant. “I was just the best fit for the job. I love you, but… I could handle this.” 

“Handle this? Am I really so terrible?” you asked, trying your hand at another joke. 

Mor’s smile looked more genuine this time as she shook her head. “No. No, you are absolutely wonderful. And that’s the problem.” 

You took a moment to try and decipher her words. Did you mean that much to these people? Did they care so deeply about your memories that only one person could stand to be around you now that they were gone? 

It was difficult not to fall into the immense vat of guilt you now found yourself teetering on the edge of. It was difficult to pretend Mor wasn't looking at you as if you had stolen something from her. 

That was the truth that was missing before—you would be too overwhelming to everyone else. Not the other way around.

Mor gave your hand a fond squeeze as if she could hear your thoughts, and then opened the door. The hinges squeaked and the sheer size of it caused a rather loud echo in the room, but neither of those sounds drowned out the sharp intake of breath from the dining room table. Your eyes immediately shot to the blue glow and the shadows twisting around wide wings. 

Azriel. 

He looked back at you, unblinking, mouth parted. His hair was clean cut and cared for, but something about it looked frazzled and untamed. It didn’t suit the stiffness with which he sat, nor the white-knuckled grip on his fork that he maintained. 

Black wisps slinked across the floor, stopping at your slippers and twisting around your ankles. You broke your stare from Azriel in favor of watching them swirl up your legs. True to your memory—which wasn’t a testament to much these days—their cool presence eased some of the pain in your head. 

A throat cleared. 

You snapped your head up. 

“Uh, I’m Cassian. I don’t know if you remember me from the other day—”

“I do,” you softly interrupted. 

Azriel choked out a shuddering breath. Your eyes lingered on the side of his face before returning to Cassian as he continued with, “Good. That’s good. New memories and all that. Very nice.”

“Cauldron, Cassian,” Mor admonished. “She’s not an invalid.” 

He threw his hands up in a placating gesture. “I didn’t say she was! I was being encouraging.” 

“Great, I’m sure we all feel very encouraged. Come, y/n.” 

You followed Mor blindly until a chair was pressed to your back and a plate was ushered in front of you. There were a few moments of silence, just the clinking of plates and forks, before the panic began to build in your chest. It was a familiar feeling for you, one of the only you could draw memories from. 

You should say something.

Azriel and Cassian, they were doing this for you—taking time away from whatever it was they were supposed to be doing to have a silly lunch. In a normal world, you wouldn’t need to have lunch as a way to reintroduce yourself to your family. 

Were they still your family? 

You knew nothing about them, could reciprocate nothing.

There had been no news about the witch that did this to you and no one told you if Rhysand found anyone to help. 

What if you were stuck like this? 

What if they grew tired of you wasting away in your room and forcing them into lunches and—

“That dish is your favorite.” 

Azriel’s deep voice rasped at the end of his sentence and sent every thought shooting away from your brain. You came back to present, catching yourself taking quick, shallow breaths and staring down at the table with no clear target. 

“You eat it every other week. I—We picked it up from a restaurant along the Sidra, a river in town,” Azriel explained. 

You brought your gaze up from staring a hole into the wood to find Azriel directly across from you, his posture more relaxed than before. His expression was patient, kind, and you nodded back at him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. But that was odd—whispering during a meal. “Thank you,” you tried again, clearer this time. “I appreciate that—”

“Azriel,” he filled in, not allowing you the possibility of a mistake. “My name is Azriel.” 

You knew that. You knew all of their names as well as their faces. There were a few paintings shoved into the back of your closet that you had taken the time to study. 

Did they shove them back there on purpose? 

“It’s nice to meet you, Azriel.” 

Azriel’s jaw quivered, his lashes fluttered. 

He took a bite of salad. 

“I don’t know if you’d be interested,” Cassian began, clearing his throat again. “But we used to—well, no, we currently have a weekly arrangement where you drag me to the theater and make me watch a show and I pretend I hate it but I actually have a great time.” 

The lingering joy on his face made a small smile creep up onto your own. 

“Sound fun to you? Might be nice to get out of that room.” 

You took a deep breath, biting the inside of your cheek. This was a good sign, him wanting to spend time with you… him wanting to be in your presence and not break down into tears or anger or distaste.

“I would love to,” you said. “Although, I don’t know much about theater.” 

Cassian dropped a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Wouldn’t expect you to know much about anything, sweetheart.”

Mor snorted the water she was drinking back into her glass, you let out a surprised, scoff-like laugh, and Cassian grinned from beside you, all teeth and snark and playfulness. 

But Azriel. 

Azriel stood up, his chair screeching as it pushed out abruptly. His napkin was clenched tightly in his hand and the rigidness from before was back and in full-swing. The shadows that had stayed with you for the duration of lunch zoomed back to their master, displacing the material of your dress as they went. 

He had a bleak, hard look in his eye as he stared at no one. 

“Azriel?” you asked, and it was the first time you’d started any semblance of a conversation on your own. Even when you spoke to Mor, she was the one prompting you to speak. 

At the sound of your voice, Azriel quickly turned his gaze toward you, his eyes softening immediately. But just as quickly, his shoulders slumped, his napkin fell to the floor, and his hand came up to cover his mouth. “I—I’m incredibly sorry. I can’t do this.” 

And then he was gone.

Part 3 ☾

[fraugwinska]

um hi! can I request an embarrassed Al with s/o who likes to kiss on him repeatedly? :))

Hey there Anon! I hope I got it right? =D I just needed a bit of fluff and sickly-sweetness! ❤️ Thank you for your suggestion!

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Pandoras Box

“You are looking grumpy today, my love.”

“I’m not grumpy. “

You and Alastor sat on the sofa next to the fireplace in the salon, a common occurrence that you had developed over the past few months. Whenever one of you had some time to spare, you'd find yourself on this very sofa, with the other magically appearing to keep you company. Sometimes your read together, sometimes you listened to music, most of the times you talked, about this and that, about light and heavy things, whatever came to mind. 

One fateful time, you had told him that you loved him. and a few other times later, Alastor had told you he loved you too. 

Everything could've been perfect if there wasn't the huge difference in need for physical affection. While you were a very touchy-feely person when it came to the people you liked (much less, loved), someone who loved to hug, kiss and cuddle - Alastor was reserved, to say the least. 

You understood, he came from another time, another culture, his tight-wound manners and gentlemanly behavior deeply ingrained in his personality. You loved him because of it, wanting to give him time to maybe someday get used to the idea, but sometimes the wait frustrated you - seeing Charlie and Vaggie lovingly hug each other every day on their way to the kitchen before breakfast, or Husk and Angel sneaking around the hotel (like no one would see them), making out in dark corners. You wanted to be respectful of his boundaries, but that didn't mean you weren't longing for more - or any - PDA. 

“The little wrinkle between your brows says otherwise, little doll.”

He looked up from his newspaper and rubbed the space between your brows with his long, slender fingers. You swatted them away and huffed. 

“I'm not grumpy. I'm…”, you searched for the right words, feeling Alastor's worried gaze on you. “...restless.”

He tilted his head in confusion, his smile more tense than usual. you knew him well enough to know he was worried. “And why's that, dear?”

You decided that the time has come where honesty was the best measure. 

“Because I want to kiss you.”

He stiffened, his fingers dug deep into the newspaper he held. You fiddled with the edges of a throw pillow - now pandoras box was opened, so you had to see it through. You lifted your eyes to look at him. His ears were folded back on his head, his smile seemed strained… and from under his collar, you could see the beginning of a flush. 

Oh. That was interesting. 

“Right now, here? That's a little... inappropriate, don't you think?”, Alastor said quietly, smile still tapered on but his eyes quickly scanning the empty foyer. 

“No one's here Al… besides, I just… Sometimes I just want to kiss you, or hug you, without care where we are or who might see it.” you say softly. “But I know you don't like that, so… I repress it.”

Alastor sighs, the redness creeping from his neck up to his jaw. 

“I suppose,”, he starts, voice slightly distorted - he's looking away from you, fixating on the double doors of the entrance, “since we are indeed alone, I could allow… “

Before he could even end the sentence, you darted forward, taking the vague opening he gave you, and pressed your lips on his. 

Different than the kisses you shared in the 'secrecy' of your bedroom, this kiss felt daring, exciting and oh-so-sweet. You could taste the way Alastor was flustered by your sudden brazeness, although he reciprocated. Hesitantly at first, but when you sighed into his lips he visibly and audibly relaxed, his hand tenderly weaving into your hair, scraping your scalp and pulling you closer. 

You broke the kiss, radiating happiness, it must've shown on your face because Alastor chuckled quietly, cheeks now as flushed as his neck. 

“My, that wasn't half as bad as I thought it… “

Another kiss cut him off again, like an addict you moved onto him, straddling him while you couldn't stop yourself, kissing his lips, his cheeks, his temples, searching for any spots that haven't been covered by your lips. 

Alastor had no chance in stopping you, mumbling things like “Enough dear!”, “Silly girl, you!”, even coming as far as “Give you an inch and you take a mile!” while you attacked him with feverish pecks. 

With a last, soft and long kiss on his lips, you slid your arms around his waist and let yourself rest on his chest, giggling content into his lapels. 

“Are you satisfied now, little vixxen?”

You nodded happily, still tightly pressed into him. 

“Good.”, he mused, wrapping his arms around you. 

“And you.” his voice fell an octave, and you lifted your head to see Angel, Husk and Niffty standing not too far at the end of the foyer, visibly shaking with - in order - suppressed laughter, horrification and morbid curiosity, “will cease that memory from existence if you value functioning organs.”

You couldn't help but laugh and kiss his nose as he sent death glares to the retreating demons, his ears flicking and cheeks still painted in the sweetest shade of red. 

[mosaickiwi]

For Two

Hello, content specifically catered to me. This might be the whole damn month.

Just an Angel that works at a BnB all alone with their stalker future spouse... :3c

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

You started your morning a little later than usual that Saturday, grateful for the extra half hour of sleep as you gathered ingredients. Only one pot of coffee to brew, one breakfast to make, one room to turnover while the guest went about their day touring the city.

You couldn't believe it. 

Normally, the weekend was completely booked. This one was too, except there'd been not just one, but six no-shows yesterday. Almost every single room at the inn was empty despite being fully paid for. 

Right at the usual check-in time, a single guest had shown up. Dressed in all black, a whole head taller than you, eyes that looked as tired as you felt from rushing around all day, and only a small duffel bag slung over one shoulder, they didn't look like the type of tourist you usually had this time of year. But who were you to judge?

The refreshments you set out didn't go to waste, though. He went back for seconds and thirds as you showed them to their room… then around the house… then around the garden while constantly on the lookout for other guests pulling up in their rental cars.

Oddly, he seemed more interested in you than the city. Rather than attractions on the pier or night life, the conversation flowed towards a few hobbies you found in common. Before you knew it, the sun had long since set, and no other soul had arrived for check-ins. You carried on with him a while longer, ending the night in a good mood despite the strange, once in a lifetime occurrence.

It felt like talking with an old friend. You wondered if the chat over breakfast would be just as nice.

The coffee machine loudly beeped, disturbing your current task. You stopped and poured it all into a thermos, then set it in the small woven carrier you'd prepared with a mug, creamers, sugars, and a pair of neatly wrapped shortbread cookies. You quietly took it up the stairs to your sole guest's room to set it at the door.

Just as you approached, the door opened with messy black hair and lightly flushed cheeks in greeting. He was the smallest bit shorter without the boots. No piercings in this early in the morning, but even his pajamas were all black. The tiny ghosts on his pants were cute. 

The man's blue eyes came to life at the sight of you and he smiled. "Mornin'," they spoke in that soft, raspy voice you'd gotten acquainted with yesterday.

"Beat me to it. Good morning, Ren." You smiled back with ease. "Did you sleep well?"

"Perfect, actually." They yawned, eyeing the basket in your hands as they stretched. "All that f'me before 7am.? Fuck, y'might really be an angel." He paused and rubbed at his lower lip. "Sorry."

You held the basket out to him. "I heard nothing. No worries," you said. It was hard to tell if he was apologizing for cursing or flirting. Was he flirting? 

He took the carrier, but still stood in the doorway, drumming his fingers on the sides as if thinking of what to say. "Soo… how d'you usually do these cute little coffee baskets for two people?"

"Two?" You hurriedly racked your brain. You were pretty sure his reservation was for one. He did have the door code already. Maybe he let his companion in late last night?

Did you need to make more coffee? Or tea? Did they have dietary restrictions you didn't know about for breakfast?! 

Shit, shit, shit. 

You never got to greet them and get their name and if they were still sleeping it'd be rude to wake them up just to ask and you couldn't expect a five star review anyways at this point but this—

"Ah, I meant…" The man interrupted your silent panic with a surprisingly nervous tone. He shifted slightly, fingers tapping even louder. "If ya wanted t'join me. I mean, I'm the only one here so I thought y'wouldn't be too busy with breakfast."

Ohh. He was flirting. Your job be damned. 

"Breakfast would have to be a little late… but if you don't mind, okay."

Ren smiled a lot brighter this time. "Great. I'll get changed and meet you downstairs in a few, yeah?"

You wanted to tell them there was no need to change with how adorable his PJs were, but kept it to yourself. You couldn't tease them like that yet. "Sure thing."

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter One. Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: Sub/Dom, Toxic Behaviour, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Begging, DubCon, CNC.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

You were a good girl, and an exemplary student. One who consistently demonstrated exceptional discipline and commitment. Your dedication to academics was unwavering, as you diligently followed the rules and guidelines, never straying from the prescribed path.

Your singular focus was on nurturing your intellectual curiosity, and you showed no interest in indulging in activities that might distract you from your educational pursuits. Your life was calm, quiet, and focused.

Until, one day everything fucking changed.

———

In the enchanted realm of Hogwarts, there resided a studious and exceptionally bright seventh-year Ravenclaw witch, known for her unwavering dedication to academics and her steadfast commitment to the noble pursuit of knowledge. This young sorceress, a paragon of virtue, refrained from the temptations that often lured her peers, steering clear of parties, alcohol, and the haze of smoke that veiled the Ravenclaw common room during clandestine gatherings.

Her life was meticulously ordered, her goals sharply defined. But the universe had a curious sense of humor, for it threw her into an unexpected affiliation with the most notorious bad boy in Slytherin:

Mattheo fucking Riddle.

He, the embodiment of rebellion, was a stark contrast to her pristine existence. Mattheo's reputation preceded him: a Slytherin troublemaker, one who was almost always found in the midst of chaos. His devil-may-care attitude was a challenge to authority, and there was not one singular individual that could tie him down.

Yet, fate had woven their paths together, forcing the astute young witch to confront the complexity of human nature, unraveling layers of his defiance while simultaneously testing the boundaries of her own steadfast resolve.

And that witch; that poor fucking witch--well, that was you.

———

"Please, Riddle...if you'd take a seat," you ran your tongue along the backside of your teeth, straightening your posture in your chair as you tried to contain your irritation. "...I must express my desire to commence our endeavors prior to the conclusion of the academic term."

"Eager, are we?" Mattheo sneered, sauntering toward the desk painfully fucking slow. "You know, Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither is mastery. I'll sit when I'm fuckin' ready to sit."

His voice was low, the sadistic drawl of his tone making your bones ignite with fury. Gods, he certainly fucking loved testing you.

"And I won't tell you again...call me Mattheo."

You inhaled a sharp breath, flattening out your blue uniform skirt against your thighs as you bit your tongue hard enough to make it bleed.

"Rome may not have been built in a day, but it certainly collapsed in one--now, I won't ask again, Riddle..." you looked up, meeting his dark obsidian eyes, fighting back a sadistic smirk of your own as he narrowed his gaze in challenge. "Take. A. Seat."

The words were clipped behind your teeth with an obvious urgency that shut Mattheo up for a few seconds, the gears turning inside his head as he contemplated how he could one up your little jab--a constant occurrence that seemed to happen every single fucking time you met with him.

At this point, your tutor sessions were an easy seventy percent bickering with the remaining thirty being a half-assed session of one-sided discussion where he mostly offers you fleeting blank stares while zoning you out. You hated that you'd agreed to this, but you knew you needed to get on (and remain on) Professor Dumbledores good side if you wanted a career here at the school after you graduated--and you were so fucking hungry for it you'd do almost anything to solidify your fate.

Even if it meant surrendering your sanity to the hands of Mattheo fucking Riddle.

You chose not to let him, of all individuals, tarnish your path. Your reputation, fragile as it may have been, resembled a tinderbox, and he was the combustible element, ready to erupt at any given moment. This resolve became your steadfast anchor, shaping the direction of your choices.

"You know," Mattheo said as he finally slumped down into the chair across from you, his tousled brown hair falling effortlessly over his forehead. "I was under the impression that the brilliant Ravenclaws such as yourself valued intellect over impulsive haste..." he tilted his head, his gaze scanning every movement of your body as you stared at him. "It was my understanding that impatience was more of a Gryffindor trait."

Your fingers trembled with palpable irritation, yet you understood the imperative need to suppress it. You couldn't afford to reveal just how deeply he affected you, realizing that acknowledging it would subject you to endless taunts and jibes, a fate you were determined to avoid at any cost. This restraint became your shield in moments such as these.

"You wish to discuss house values, Riddle?" You tilted your head, straightening out your posture once again. "Because I, in complete honesty, was under the impression that Slytherins were known for their resourcefulness...your reluctance to cooperate suggests a rather curious lack of ambition."

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, his expression growing icier. "Resourcefulness doesn't mean blindly following every stupid instruction thrown at you, and ambition means choosing the battles worth fighting, not wasting time on pathetic, trivial matters."

With a subtle smirk, he leaned back, hooking his arm on the back of his chair as he eyed your discomfort--seemingly undisturbed by your challenge--and you chewed on the inside of your cheek, somehow knowing he wasn't finished.

And of course, he wasn't. "If you really believe this seemingly-stubborn insistence on when or if I sit reflects a lack of ambition, you clearly misunderstand the depths of Slytherin cunning. We pick our battles wisely, and right now, this isn't one of them."

Your blood pressure surged, the crimson currents in your veins reaching their boiling point. Months of enduring relentless bickering and one-upmanship had pushed you to the edge--this man may be an utter degenerate but he certainly knows how to use his mouth when it matters. You could no longer bear the weight of this incessant game, and in a fleeting moment of frustration, you finally succumbed to the pressure.

You knew this was your breaking point.

"I'm just trying to fucking help you." You said, before you even realized you had. You hardly ever cussed, never out loud--that is. "If you don't want to be here, then get out. I promise you, you won't be hurting my feelings if you do."

He huffed, leaning forward and crossing his hands together on top of the desk as he wet his stupidly plush lips, a devilish grin swallowing his cheeks while he revelled in the fact he'd so clearly fucking won. Yet again.

"No," he said. "I don't think I will."

You clucked your tongue, irritated even further at his response, gaze narrowing ever-so-slightly before you rolled your eyes--brushing off his suffocating arrogance and pulling your textbook out of your bag, slamming it down on top of the desk between your bodies.

"The Grimoire of Arcane Relics?" Mattheo read the title out loud, voice laced with a confused, almost offended undertone. "We don't cover this until the middle of second term..."

You cocked an eyebrow. "And?"

"Seems a bit...hasty, to shove this down my throat so early on," his voice carried a sadistic drawl that nearly made you leap across the desk and choke him unconscious. This man knew how to fucking test you. "Would it not be far more beneficial to proceed in the order the books are taught?"

You drew in another swift breath, the fabric of your navy robes clinging to your form, trembling fingers smoothing out any wrinkles on your button-up blouse as you adjusted it.

"I was unaware..." you said, not bothering to look up. "...that the individual I'd be tutoring this term was in fact a professor, and not a seventh year student..." you glimpsed him now, offering him merely but a slight tilt of your head as you watched his jaw tense. "...I must have been ill-informed, do pardon my ignorance."

"A moment of self-awareness? What a fucking breakthrough for you, Raven...pity it took you so long." He was clasping his hands together on top of the desk with enough force to involuntarily crack his knuckles. "Maybe there's hope for you yet, though I wouldn't hold my fucking breath."

"Please don't," you said, teeth gritting. "We wouldn't want to deprive your already-oxygen-starved brain of any more, now would we? It needs all the help it can get."

Mattheo's gaze sharpened, his lips curving into a teasing smirk, highlighting the scars that adorned them. The effect he had on you was undeniable, a sensation you longed to dismiss more than anything. However, with every passing moment in his presence, resisting the pull of attraction became an increasingly futile endeavour--yes, he was suffocatingly arrogant, but Gods, he was fucking attractive.

And he knew it.

"Quite the fucking mouth on you, I'll admit..." he dropped his voice to a low whisper, so deep it practically rattled your bones as it vibrated through you. "Never met a Ravenclaw with such an attitude problem...maybe I could tutor you on how to fix that issue, once we're done here, of course."

Your stomach twisted, heat spreading through your veins like wildfire. Curse him and his painstakingly arrogant charm. Curse him to bloody hell.

"It'd be a cold day in hell before I take any sort of guidance from you, Riddle..." you whispered, your voice accidentally reverberating as a seductive pitch. "And even then, I'd probably still refrain."

"You don't know when to shut the fuck up, do you?..." his eyes darkened, an evil mischief crawling its way through his irises. "What would daddy Dumbledore think about the way you're speaking to me, huh?"

Your heart stalled. "I-"

Your words faltered as Mattheo stood up, moving leisurely like a predatory creature circling its prey, until he was right beside you. His eyes, sharp as daggers, bored into your skull, and he loomed over you, a sadistic smirk twisting his lips into a cruel curve. The sight sent a shiver down your spine, knotting your stomach with an unsettling mix of fear and desire.

He placed a singular hand on your desk, leaning down closer to your level. "Perhaps I pay him a little visit...perhaps I tell him that you've been missing lessons, that you've been extremely unprofessional...perhaps I somehow fail my next exam...perhaps-"

"Okay, okay!" You panicked, cutting him off. "You've made your point, Riddle...I'm sorry, okay?" The words were fucking painful as you forced them past your teeth, and you swallowed your ego, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Let's just get this over with, please?"

Mattheo huffed, gratified by how effortlessly his threats appeared to compel your submission. The gears turned in his head as he grasped the extent of the power he truly wielded over you. He fully understood that your entire post-graduate career almost certainly depended on his decisions, and he was eagerly anticipating taking action.

"I like the way you say please..." his voice was breathless, his dark eyes consumed by something you couldn't really identify as he slumped down in the chair directly next to you, his sight never once leaving yours. "Do it again."

Your body tensed, immobilized as he inched closer, his penetrating eyes scrutinizing your features with intense focus. It was no secret that Mattheo had been oblivious to your existence until he was placed under your guidance--despite being the most popular Slytherin student in the school, you, a practically invisible Ravenclaw, were easy to overlook. It had taken him over three weeks to even remember your name, a fact he never bothered to acknowledge, let alone use.

But within that time frame, within the time you'd been tutoring him; as much as he drove you mentally fucking insane, you couldn't deny that every time he'd show up for lessons with torn knuckles, cut lips and alcohol radiating from his breath--you couldn't help but to feel something in the pit of your stomach.

Whether that sensation was disgust, arousal, or sheer terror, you couldn't quite pinpoint. It was a feeling that whispered in your veins, urging you to surrender to the dominance he held over you. It screamed for you to let him have his way without resistance, because just as he commanded your obedience, he wielded the same control over the entire damn school. The prospect of defying him felt like a dangerous game you weren't willing to play.

"Riddle-"

He tilted his head, his face dangerously close to yours now, his eyes peering into your soul as he stared. As he wet his lips, his breath turning shallow, you felt a feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach, and one between your thighs as well.

"I said, do it again." His voice was a mere breath as it left his lips, his eyes studying you as though you were a page of a textbook. Not that he'd ever read one of those. "Go on, Raven...beg for me..."

Your breath hitched, and you involuntarily clutched the edges of the wooden chair between your fingers with an indescribable force. You didn't want to admit it--not to Mattheo, not to anyone really--but you were a virgin. You'd never even kissed a boy; your entire life was devoted to your studies...so this...this was extremely fucking new to you.

When you remained silent, Mattheo's eyes darkened even further, turning a shade of obsidian so intense they put even the stormiest midnight skies to shame.

"You want me to keep your perfect little reputation intact, hm?" He breathed, leaning closer. "You want me to help you stay on Dumbledores good side?"

Your throat was more arid than the desert, and you nodded, unable to blink--unable to peel your fucking eyes off of him.

"Then do as I say..." he murmured, a large battered hand finding purchase on your thigh, your entire body involuntarily flinching at the foreign contact. "I want to hear you, Raven."

You stared down at his hand resting lazily over the fabric of your blue uniform skirt--it's massive size swallowing up almost the entirety of your thigh, calloused palm catching on the pleats as it slid upwards, agonizingly slowly--and when he paused, stretching his fingers around the diameter of your thigh the best he could, fingers digging into your flesh as he squeezed; you gasped, involuntarily, and he huffed--bringing his lips dangerously close to your ear.

"One more chance..." he purred, and you could practically hear the smirk on his lips. "You won't like what'll happen-"

"Please!" You snapped, squeezing your thighs together out of pure desperation. "Please, Mattheo...please, let's just get this over with..."

"Mm." He hummed in satisfaction, slowly pulling his hand off of you. "That's fucking right..." he murmured, warm breath tickling your ear. "Nothing is sweeter than your submission, Raven."

You swallowed, not daring to look at him, nodding your head frantically in response as he pulled away, slumping back in the chair--not once peeling his eyes off of you, spreading his legs way-too-fucking wide as he made himself comfortable--he was silent, now, watching your chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, watching the way you squirmed in your chair at his sudden dominance--a dominance that had an effect on you that you couldn't even begin to describe.

And then, before you could even realize what was happening, Mattheo leaned back in, his fingers gripping your jaw and tilting your face towards his--and as you meet his dark, intoxicating eyes, your lungs stalled, entire body shrinking in your seat as he stared at you with such intensity that you felt like he could see right through you.

"From now on, I'm in charge here," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "Understand?"

You swallowed the lump of anxiety in your throat, and watched his darkened amber eyes as they glanced over your lips, lingering there for far too long, before returning back up to meet your gaze--something swimming in his irises that made your stomach twist.

When you were silent, he tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow. "Use your words, Raven..."

"Yes." You squeaked, voice barely audible. "I understand."

He hummed, a devilish smirk crawling across his lips, fingers digging into your jaw with added pressure as he pulled you closer, lips so close you'd touch with a deep enough breath.

"Understand, what?" He breathed, eyes dipping over your lips yet again. "Say my fucking name."

"Mattheo..." you couldn't breathe, couldn't move, could only obey his words as though he was controlling you like a puppet on strings. "I understand, Mattheo."

He huffed, smirking. "Good girl, Raven..." his voice was a mere breath as it left his lips, his full lashes fluttering as he blinked, meeting your eyes. "You learn so quickly...I should have done this months ago..."

When he pulled back, slowly releasing you, air slowly returned to your lungs; not enough to rid the dizziness from your brain but just enough to keep you conscious. Mattheo turned toward the desk now, as though nothing even happened, gesturing for you to start the lesson.

And somehow, you did.

—————-

Chapter two->

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Sideways waltz

summary: Price wakes up with a boner and with you sleeping right next to him he can't help himself.

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine universe)

tags/tw: afab!reader, mention of canon related injury, NSFW, mdni 18+ please and thank you, clothed grinding, slight somno (consensual), p in v, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, implied age-gap, Price's pov

a/n: sigh, I wish Price could start my mornings like this

Sunshine universe MASTERLIST & John Price MASTERLIST

It wasn't unusual for Price to wake up before you. If anything, it was the typical routine. 

If he felt cheery enough and if it wasn't the typical British weather outside, he could fill the time between his and your sleeping schedule with a run. Other times, if his body was sore after deployment or the weather was far from perfect —because he dealt with enough piss-poor climates while out in the field to willingly venture into one while at home— he would stay inside, either right by your side or in an adjacent room.

With the hazardous melting of snow outside and his injury, Price was less willing to leave the warmth of sharing a bed with you. The past month was proof, as he more or less found himself right by your side as you woke up every day. 

It settled a comfort in his body, one that eased his sharp wake-ups dwelling from deployment. Rather than rousing quickly and clearly with a single opening of his eyes, it was a gradual rising to consciousness, one where he felt his surroundings before observing them— the warmth wrapped around him, the softness giving away beneath the weight of his body, the dull discomfort that grew more tolerable each week beneath his skin.

What was neither as peaceful nor as common was that he woke up due to a raging boner. 

It was the first thing Price felt as his consciousness slipped closer, and sleep gave way to his senses. A prickling heat in his limbs. The throbbing between his legs. The uncomfortable restrainment of his underwear. All sensations that made him irritably groan in his emerging slumber. 

There were few times he woke with a hard-on. Long over and done with the near-everyday occurrences during his teen years. And less, but still remarkably often, during his twenties. He had grown out of it due to age and the military, or so he thought. 

Since getting together with you, Price has found himself waking up with a morning wood much more than he likes to admit. Sometimes, it happened when he'd spent the day with you before deployment, and his mind didn't register that he was on duty again but expected you nuzzled close within his frame. But most of the time, it happened when you were sleeping by his side. 

You never seemed to mind if you woke to find his cock rock hard against you. You would only giggle in that newly woken-up fashion that made you seem even softer, somehow finding a way to wiggle closer to him no matter how close you were and with a light, musing voice comment on how 'someone seems excited for this early in the morning'.

Despite always considering it a nuisance, Price couldn't complain all too much about the soft morning sex that always followed. Everything was unhurried, the both of you still waking up. 

It was at the top of his ways to indulge in your sweet body, having you so pliant and submissive as you allowed him to pull you close, gentle noises spilling from your lips as he most often slid into you from behind.

In the rare instance you'd woken up facing each other, he got to meet your half-lidded eyes so lovingly gazing at him while that little furrow between your brows and parted lips told him how good it felt to start the day just like that. 

And you never failed to mention just how much you loved waking up to him touching your body with a spent smile and eyes still closed as you returned from your high.

As on cue, you were the second thing his gradually awakening mind registered. 

Price felt your warmth much further away than he desired. When his eyes ultimately opened with a heaved sigh, he found you in a similar side-ways position as him, facing away as the covers reached your ribcage. You were still soundly asleep, even and deep breaths whispering you were none the wiser of his situation.

It was never hard to lean over, loop his arm around your waist, and slide you over to him, like it was the natural cause of action from how it settled a deep, sated feeling in his chest and from how you always settled right against him as if your unconscious knew what was happening, fidgeting until you settled with a heavy sigh and went still again. 

God, Price loved how perfectly you fit against him, his thick bicep filling the dip of your waist as he burrowed his face into your neck.

He inhaled deeply, your hair tickling his cheeks much softer than what his beard on the daily must do to you. You smelled fresh —your body-wash from the night before still lingering— and something inherently sweet that always lingered on your skin. Price could drown in your scent that clouds his mind with pleasant thoughts and memories. All of which intensifies the heat in his gut, the throbbing need making his cock twitch.

The first roll of his hips is unconscious, but the relief it brings makes the second a chase for more. 

It's a dull pleasure, the worn-soft material of his underwear an unwanted barrier as Price rubs himself against your backside. And yet, he finds himself unable to push any clothing aside, still drowsy and desperate enough that he only shuffles his hips, angling himself to grind just beneath the swell of your ass.

Price shudders at the sensation, expertly muffling his groan not to ring too loudly this close to your ears. It's addicting. You are addicting, you and your soft, warm body with no choice but to accept his lust-stricken action.

He shuffles impossibly closer, momentarily dropping his hand to shift himself in his pants so his member slots between your thighs. 

Price needs to bite his lip forcefully as his eyes press harshly shut, his sharp exhale disturbing your hair when the head of his cock juts against your panty-covered core. 

With the groan brewing in his throat, hand fisting the dark shirt covering your body, he moves his lips to your nape, occupying himself by kissing you gently as he starts moving his hips, thick cock twitching between your thighs. 

More, he needs to feel more.

Price rucks up your, his, sleeping shirt to worm his way beneath it. Your smooth skin makes him exhale gruffly, stomach clenching, hips jumping. So unbelievably soft. 

He feels the flush heating your unconscious body as he trails his palm upwards until his big hand settles over your breast. A warmth radiates off of your skin as he gently kneads the soft flesh in his palm, tweaking your nipple into a stiff peak until paying equal attention to the other.

A soft sound escapes you, a low whine stuck in your chest. It doesn't deter Price. If anything, it sends a shiver down his spine, causing his fingers to pinch your nipple just a tad bit harder. 

He grinds more directly against you now, the tip of his cock knocking against your entrance and sliding along the covered heat of your pussy, presumably knocking against your clit from how your body twitches and legs clamp together.

The groan he's been holding off claws out of his chest, guttural and pleasured as your soft flesh nearly traps him between your thighs so perfectly when he rocks his hips. However, his action finally ceases when you continue to stir, your body squirming and breaths switching from deep to stuttering. 

"Mm... John?" Half a pitch deeper and much quieter as you rise from a dream state, your voice made him curl his arm tighter around you, fingers digging into your breast still in his grasp.

"G'mornin'". Price knew you liked the roughness of his morning voice, now no different as he catches your wordless, whine-like reply. 

Coming to, you writhe in his arms, hands extending forward then upwards before your body roll as you stretch like a cat. 

When your hips rock backwards in your attempt to fend off the sleep in your limbs, the flex of your ass —just an inch, a sweet, sweet inch— has you stilling suddenly, without a doubt feeling the stiffness forced almost between your asscheeks by the angle of his hips and the groan he releases into your hair.

Price feels you take a deep breath, now possibly also noticing his hand on your chest from the added weight. If you'd been facing him, he reckons he would've seen the slow smile spreading on your lips that he now hinted at in your voice as your hand dropped to trail along the skin of his arm not hidden beneath your clothing.

"That's why you're still in bed?"

"Didn't feel like goin' on a run", he humours you lowly. Your chuckle is faint, but he feels it vibrate against his hand.

"Because you wanted some help with that?" You grind backwards.

He answers by knocking his hips forward in return, cock prodding into your crotch from behind once more. You inhale, a swift heave of your chest beneath his hand. Price feels how your cunt throbs and your thighs squeeze, humming contently.

"Did I wake you?"

"Yeah", your voice is gentle, senses concentrating on his hand running down your body.

"Sorry", his apology is christened with a low 'fuck' as his hand slips beneath your panties, feeling your heat radiate against his palm.

"Mm, know I don't -oh", a soft moan breaks your drawled sentence when his fingers find your clit. "Yeah, mhm, don't mind", you finish the sentence breathily as Price starts circling your bundle of nerves.

He coaxes the deep, airy breaths from your lungs along the gentle rocking of your hips as he circles his middle finger over your clit. Your shifting working wonders to grind yourself on his cock.

He sits hot and hard between your legs, wetness seeping through his underwear, a combination of his precum and the slick already having soaked through your panties. The damp fabrics convey the illusion he's got fewer layers between your dripping cunt and his throbbing cock.

"John..." you moan, not continuing your sentence as your hands find his wrist, pushing his hand further into your heat with just a fraction of your usual strength, hinting at your still partly-woken state, all while swivelling your hips to have him push right against your entrance repeatedly.

Your urge is all Price needs to pull his hand from your underwear —amusedly sushing your whining complaint as he stops playing with your clit— to pull his pants down and kick them off his legs. Without the confines of his underwear, he notices his tip is flushed a scarlet pink, dribbling pre-cum. 

Hooking your panties aside, he twitches in his fist as he guides himself down the curve of your arse as you arch your spine so prettily for him. 

Price grunts deeply as he rocks his hips, now without any of the layers between you keeping him from your wet heat. You stutter out and exhale as he bumps your clit with his rocking while coating himself in the wetness already covering your thighs.

The way the wet walls of your pussy give way to his girth when he finally notches himself against your entrance and pushes in is heavenly. Your drooling heat a silk fist unbelievably softer than his calloused fist ever could come close to.

He grunts something into your skin —praise, he reckons, for opening up to him so good despite nothing more than the unconscious prepping of your body— but can't even dissect precisely what he says himself. But the sound is enough for you as you fidget in return, walls clenching around him in tandem with your already consumed whines as he fills you up.

As he hilts himself, he stays put for a moment, eyes closed, revelling in how tightly you're squeezing him, how close your body presses against his, how your breaths are soft even if they're shaky.

The first few rocks of his hips are slow, a grind more than anything. Deliciously making him slide into your sweet spot on both the drag back and push forth. It has your face shoving into the pillow, sounds muffled as you moan into the fabric.

"Let me hear you", he breathes against the back of your neck as his arm —which up until now had been resting beneath the pillows, clutching the feathery cushioning— moves beneath your neck, anchoring around your upper chest, making his forearm rests right along your clavicle, as Price tugs you flush against his chest. 

His strength overpowers yours any other day, but the difference shines even brighter in your present state, as you can't resist him when he forces you out of your hiding. 

Your soft breaths and moans fill the air as you let yourself be moved by him, head notching backwards against his shoulder.

His hips move slowly still, pausing with a dirty grind when he bottoms out, the hair on his arms standing up when you whine so wantonly when he hits your pleasurable spots. Yet, he moves with purpose when your hands attempt to wrap around his forearm, fingers not even brushing as your nails crest his skin. 

Price slides the hand that has been lodged between your waist and the bed down your body, groping his way over your hip down to your thigh, gripping the soft inner flesh as he directs your leg up and backwards over his leg. 

It opens you up, tilting your body backwards against his front, making him sink even deeper into you. 

He can't contain his growl of pleasure, mouth falling open, warm breath fanning over your shoulder as his teeth gently dent your skin.  

You're partly laying on top of him at this point, half your body elevated from the mattress, cushioned instead by his body. His hips are more beneath you than aligned from behind, the position helping him persistently fuck himself deep.

Price embraces your weight more steadily by once again curling an arm around your mid-drift, elated when your arm curls backwards —tentatively to not knock against his still healing shoulder— and somehow reaches around his neck, submitting yourself to the weightlessness of him propping you up.

Digging his heels into the bed, he snaps his hips upwards. He groans in pleasure when you squeeze him so tight, his head pressing backwards against the pillows. You're in no better state. Sleep a memory as the same need that had woken him guides your hand down your body. 

Price senses your fingers as they reach your cunt, a finger settling on either side of where he spreads you open, a pitched moan deflating your lungs as you feel how he repeatedly enters you. His thighs quiver, your much cooler fingers a stark, but not unpleasant, contrast compared to your indulgingly warm cunt. 

As you press against the sides of his shaft, feeling the way you clutch to him each time he pulls out, Price knows you disturb the creamy ring that's gradually been developing at the base of him. The messy mixture of fluids now coating your entrance, much like the slickness seeping down the crack of your ass paints his abdomen.

And then your fingers shift upwards, playing with your clit. You grow louder, keening at the added sensation, and Price groans at how the squelching sound of your wet pussy grows when you clench around him. 

His beard scratches your ear when he angles it towards you. Although feeling how you twitch at the rough sensation, your body is lax enough that you can't escape it, having Price smiling as he speaks.

"Yeah? That what you needed, love?" Your body attempts to arch, shivering in his hold as he husks the words against the shell of our ear. He doesn't let up on his grip around your waist, forcing you down against him, moulding your body to his as he speeds up his thrusts as if punishing you. "Feels good, does it?" His groaned sentence fades at your moaned 'mhm' as you flutter around him.

He puts more force behind his thrusts, rutting against harshly enough for a slapping sound to fill the room, only muted by the covers still covering your lower bodies. You gasp, clenching hard around him, hurtling his edge dangerously close as he feels you shiver with pleasure.

And then everything grows too blindingly good that the muscles at the back of Price's neck tense before going lax, making him angle his face into the side of your neck, grunting against your skin. The centre point between his shoulder-blades tenses, and a warm shiver runs down his back while his stomach clenches and something in his toes tingles. 

Price releases a hoarse groan, his orgasm rolling through his body well before the last drive forward of his hips as he continues rocking into you, barely pulling back, hitting that deepest part inside you, messily coating himself with the cum filling you.

As he leaves his cock to settle inside you, twitching in the warm aftermath, you grind backwards and continue to chase the high that he usually spoils you with reaching first. He feels your desperation, the flexing of your ass, the twitch of your legs that can't close from how he keeps you spread. 

With a lazy smirk, his hand moves beneath yours, overtaking and matching the frantic speed of your fingers with his own to let you concentrate solely on the pleasure, making you shiver, and your hips squirm.

You release a broken moan before going silent as you come. If not for how your hand shoots to his, attempting to still his movements, and Price's arm flexing to keep you grounded against his front, you would've curled to your side from how violently you squirmed.

Your body blankets his in a comfortably added weight as you gasp for air, your body twitching as he treats you to a dragged-out release by rolling your engorged clit between his fingers. 

It's not until he lets up on his overstimulated teasing, which has your walls massaging his gradually softening cock, that your high ebbs and your entire body seemingly loosens.

Your overstimulated chokes and whines fade, much like the weight of your body as you slump to the side the same second Price straightens his leg, and yours slide down from his thigh.

His arm, still trapped beneath your head, is bathed with your warm breaths. Price rolls with you, spooning you from behind by slotting his knees to the back of yours and enveloping you with his arm, heavy over your waist.

His lips graze your clothed shoulder, pressing kisses until he nuzzles into your neck. You don't speak, and neither does he. 

Price catches your breathing, much more laboured and deep than the one fanning back into his face. He can practically envision how your face presses into the mattress, eyes closed, features blissfully relaxed as you try to wring your mind back in place and out of the messy cloud of pleasure you're floating on. 

When you finally catch your bearings, you push yourself against his chest, upper body no longer slumped forward. 

The slight shift makes Price slip out of you. Though spent, he immediately twitches against your thigh upon feeling the warm aftermath that leeks from between your legs. 

Your frame shakes against his seconds before you twist in his embrace to face him.

Your eyes are droopy, barely open as they flutter to meet his gaze through the stray strands of hair covering your face. He brushes away the worst of your unruly curtain, uncloaking your glowing skin, only softened further by the quirk at the edges of your lips.

"Can't be ready for another round that quickly?" Your voice is gritty, not entirely in your power to make it even as pleasure is still evident in the edges.

"Gimme a minute, and we'll... see." His sentence becomes something muttered before the last word, its entirety shorter than when correctly spoken. 

His body is heavy, sleep closer now than previously, pleasured stained content making him lazy. And he knows you see it, notices the mock behind his words as his hand doesn't travel down your body but comfortably stays tracing shapes against the small of your back. 

You chuckle softly, leaving the first of many kisses against his lips for the day. The peck is soft, making him hum as you leave another against the tip of his nose before nuzzling beneath his chin and into his chest. It is the perfect position for Price to press a kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin as he can't bother pulling away when you sigh blissfully against him.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Kindred Spirits Pt. 2 | Azriel x Rhys’daughter!Reader

Summary: After getting approval from your father, you and Azriel get to enjoy your mating bond in the privacy of the cabin in Illyria, eagerly experimenting with each other.

Word Count: ~3.7k

Warnings: SMUT, p in v penetration, oral (both ways), wingplay, sub Az, bath together, nudity, cutesy cuddles

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: Since this was so highly requested here it is, got a buncha inspiration from requests, hope you enjoy<3

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Requests are open!

A low groan slipped from your lips as you shifted beneath him in the bed. For the past hours, he’d been pounding into you, filling you over and over until both of your bodies were aching and sore.

He had been panting against your skin, harsh breaths slowly calming into the smooth, deep rhythm you were accustomed to.

Even now, you still wanted more, needed more, despite your body’s aching protests.

“We need to get some food, Az.”

You murmured against the warm planes of his chest, the urge to lick and bite gnawing at you, only to shove it down. He sighed, slowly easing out of you and sitting on the edge of the bed. You couldn’t help but miss the feeling of being filled by him almost immediately.

He turned to you, helping you sit up, his large, scarred hands supporting your back, one wrapping around your waist.

“Are you alright?”

His gentle tone had asked, hazel eyes gleaming with concern as his gaze ran over your body, hungry as ever, but noticing each little bruise on your hips from him holding you, or the bites and hickeys left on your neck.

Your mind immediately started wandering as you saw his bare body, eyes running over his muscular and lean form. He looked like he’d been sculpted by a god, scars marring some of his skin, running the length of his midnight wings that when the light hit them just right, purple would show through them, as well as the veins.

Not to mention the shadows, always swirling around him, now thick in the room and still leaving lingering whispers of touch on your skin, or his eyes…

Focus.

You snapped out of your imagination, glancing up to meet his eyes, still concerned, but with a knowing, and amused, glint to them. He knew that you were absolutely enthralled with him, and he wouldn’t expect any less from his mate, an adult but still a teenage female with all sorts of hormones flooding your system because of the bond.

“I..I’m fine, just a little sore.”

He let out a hum at that, his gaze going down to your legs, still just barely trembling from your last climax. In a smooth motion, he scooped you up into his arms and began walking into the kitchen.

“I said I’m sore, not disabled!”

You said, giving him an amused but exasperated look. He returned it with a level gaze, a smile on his lips.

“I wouldn’t want you wasting any energy. You’ll need it for tonight.”

His sinfully charming voice spoke quietly, bringing a flush to your cheeks and making you shut your mouth for a good while, that familiar heat and slick that seemed ever-present these days building yet again in your body.

He sat you gently onto one of the chairs, the wood cold against your bare ass. You watched as he walked over to the stove, not bothering to throw any clothing on, and began making some food.

The smell of breakfast filled the kitchen as he scrambled eggs, and fried bacon, and threw a few pieces of bread into the toaster. Your gaze quickly wandered to the curve of his ass, how it sloped down into his muscular thighs, and hanging down between them…

“Here,”

He spoke quietly, still startling you out of your thoughts, which seemed to be a common occurrence these days. He lifted you up, sitting in the chair before setting you down on his lap. Your eyes glazed over with lust and you whined, shifting to grind down against him, you felt his cock twitch, and his body tense, but he only shook his head, picking up your fork with one hand and offering you a bite of scrambled eggs, his other hand holding your hips still.

“Patience, love. You can have me again after breakfast.”

That statement sent a bit of embarrassment through your veins. You could barely even control your own body and thoughts, all consumed by him, and were so terribly impatient. You huffed, not feeling much like his equal in this moment as you leaned against his chest, taking the eggs into your mouth, chewing and swallowing, before giving him a bite of eggs from his plate.

“I know, but I can’t help it. Not with the bond and..everything.”

He slowly chewed his food, looking down at you thoughtfully, your embarrassment probably palpable through the bond, which only further increased it.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

He reassured you after swallowing. You sighed, fork dropping from your hand with a clatter onto his plate.

“But it feels like it is. You always turn me into an absolute puddle and take care of me, and I feel like I can’t do anything for you.”

His eyes softened at your admission as he shifted your body up in his lap, so you were eye to eye with him.

“You’re already doing everything for me, being my mate, letting me have you and provide for you.”

You opened your mouth to speak again, only for a piece of bacon to be pushed inside, effectively shutting you up as you glared at him. He thought a moment, before hesitantly speaking.

“We could take a bath after this, and I could show you how to turn me into a…’puddle’?”

He offered, at which you nodded, still chewing the surprisingly good bacon. Learning how to turn the shadowsinger into an absolute mess sounded wonderful and also impossible at the same time. He was always so calm and collected that you couldn’t picture him as a mess like you always were.

*********************************************************

Azriel knew he was in trouble the moment he stepped into the warm bath, wings spreading behind him as you eagerly joined him, chest to chest as the two of you began washing each other’s bodies off, barely able to resist the hazy scent of arousal rising between you two in the air.

You were always so eager.

He found it adorable. How you were willing to do anything and everything for him, to try new things, bend over backward, both literally and figuratively, and test things. He knew you were a virgin, it had been quite obvious by how nervous and antsy you’d been, or just how sensitive and responsive you still were with him.

You whined as he slowly slid you down on his cock, throbbing again already even after the entire night’s worth of activities.

He knew the mating bond would cause a frenzy, he’d heard Feyre and Rhys talk about theirs, not to mention Nesta and Cassian who he sometimes thought were still in the midst of it when he heard their feral fucking through the walls of the House of Wind at night, or day, or any time. He’d once walked in on them in the library of all places.

But he hadn’t known just how urgent it would feel, how every muscle in his body and his shadows demanded him to be buried deep inside you, fucking and filling you over and over until he was empty.

His hands went to hold your hips as you began grinding down on him, slowly guiding you and trying to stop himself from bucking up into you.

“You want to know how to make me a mess?”

He asked, your little desperate nod confirming it. Always so eager to please. One of his scarred hands wrapped around your hand, leading it to the base of his wings.

“There. Touch me, starting on the bottom and sides, and slowly get closer and add more pressure to my pulse point in the middle.”

He instructed, his wings already flaring out as you followed his instructions, soft hands with small callouses from the training Cassian gave you roaming the very base of his wings first, on the edges of it.

His breathing grew harsher, more resembling pants, and you could’ve sworn his bottom lip trembled slightly as his eyes rolled up, hips arching into yours.

“Just like that, sweet girl, so — oh, fuck..”

He groaned, hips slowly beginning to roll into yours, making his throbbing cock rub against that heavenly spot he’d already memorized inside of you. Your movements became a bit more desperate and frenzied as your entire hand then went to hold the bottom of the base, cupping and squeezing in a way that made him jerk.

His breathing was shaky, tears pricking his eyes as Azriel, who had the patience of a god and seemingly never-ending will, began whining and begging.

“Please, right there, right - ahhh, good-“

It was so unbelievably hot seeing your stoic shadowsinger crumbling to pieces beneath your hands. As another climax rolled over your sensitive, shaking body, clenching around him, your hands moved to his pulse point, a sensitive vein in the center of the base of his wings, and squeezed, he came with a sound that you could only describe as a mix between and roar and a cry, body going limp and laying against the tub behind him as he painted your insides.

You settled against his chest, pressing kisses all over him, anywhere you could get them as he slowly recovered, eyes unglazing as he slowly blinked and caught his breath. One of his arms was wrapped around you.

Azriel wasn’t sure what must’ve come over you, but as he relaxed, he saw a hint of something in your eyes, before you leaned forward and sunk your teeth right into the sensitive skin of his neck. He’d let out an embarrassingly loud moan at it, his length immediately rising back to attention and hardening inside you.

From the way he looked down at you, eyes dark with hunger, you knew that you were in for a long night.

*********************************************************

And a long night it had been.

He’d spent hours fucking himself into you, tasting you, licking up all you had to offer with that sinful tongue of his.

It was only when you’d agreed to let him stay inside throughout the rest of the night that he’d finally gone to sleep, and you’d slept like a rock, dreamless until waking up in the morning with a dry throat.

His hair was tousled, wings and arm wrapped around you in a protective cocoon, face serene and body relaxed in sleep. It was a sight you hated to interrupt, but you needed water. You shimmied your way out of his grasp, giving him a little kiss on the forehead and mumbling something about being thirsty.

He’d groaned and seemingly went back to laying down, though not as good as when you were there.

You’d trudged off to the kitchen, body sore and aching but wanting more, and gulped down an entire glass of water when you felt a familiar nudge against your mental walls.

‘How’s my girl doing?’

Your father’s voice rang out in your head, familiar and soothing to you. You smiled to yourself while drinking another cup of water.

‘Good.’

‘You’ve been gone two full days and all you have to say is that you’re doing good?’

You snorted into the water you were drinking, a small sly smirk curling on your lips.

‘If you’re so curious,’

You began, before letting him see a quick flash of all the activities you and Azriel had been getting up to. You felt him recoil from your mind almost immediately, clearly scarred from that alone.

It was then that you heard a light, almost imperceptible patter of feet against the wood, and saw Azriel, bare as you, rubbing his eyes with one hand and stroking his cock with the other, stalking quietly towards you.

You must’ve forgotten to put your mental walls back up because you heard your father’s voice chuckling before speaking.

‘Enjoy yourself.’

He spoke simply, before fully withdrawing and your attention went to Azriel, who had a gleam of curiosity in his lust-clouded eyes.

“My dad. He was checking in on me. I’m not sure what he expected.”

You murmured, taking another sip of water as a low growl rumbled from Azriel’s chest, his lip curled up slightly and face contorted in what could only be described as territorial Fae bullshit. He huffed, clearly knowing he was ridiculous but not able to stop it.

“I don’t want any other male talking to you. Not now.”

He said with what could easily be described as a pout, coming to wrap his arms possessively around your waist from behind, wandering up to your breasts, slowly kneading them.

You sighed, leaning back against him.

“He’s my dad. He’s just worried, Az.”

He huffed again.

“I know, I just..”

“Can’t help it?”

“Yes.”

You let out a little bit of laughter at that. That was the same way you felt. Unable to help anything your mind and body wanted, which right now, was him.

His nostrils flared as he easily scented your arousal, he leaned forward, slightly pushing your body against the counter.

“Here?”

You asked, a bit exasperated. His shadows swirled around you both, slowly easing your upper half onto the counter, bending you ever so gently over it.

“I want to..try something.”

He said, voice thick with desire. You were already dripping down your legs, and his cock easily ran through your folds, settling between your legs as you whined for him to just put it in already.

“Pick a safe word.”

He said, all the while slowly easing into you. All the rabid fucking the past two days meant you didn’t even need to be stretched for him anymore, you were more than used to the mind-numbing size of him. Your mind felt blank as you tried to come up with a decent safe word, easy to say and get out. Your gaze went to the fruit bowl on the counter, and you thought of the fruit you’d offered to your mate.

“Apple.”

You said, immediately mentally facepalming at how stupid it was. Azriel only smirked and continued, inch after inch slowly sliding in. Shadows began sliding up your body, teasing your pert nipples before their forms settled on your wrists, pushing them forward, over your head, and in front of you on the counter, binding them down in a firm grip, but also careful not to hurt you as they whispered amongst themselves and to their master.

Any words that had been formed immediately fell to pieces as he began pounding into you only moments after bottoming out, moving like a rabbit in heat, desperate to fuck and fill. It was a dizzying, punishing pace he set, your hands bound above you only adding to it.

Wet squelching noises mixed with your moans and screams of him and his name, the sound of skin slapping against skin resounding as his balls hit the curve of your ass, tightening as he spilled inside of you.

He didn’t stop.

It felt like you were there for hours, bent over that counter, some shadows rubbing your clit, Azriel’s hands groping your breasts and pinching your nipples, your hands bound. You couldn’t count the number of times you fell completely apart around him, or the number of times he came.

“Mine.”

He growled, the sound of his voice so possessive and animalistic sending heat straight into your core.

“Yours, all yours.”

You managed to get out between your screams. It was too much, and he could feel it through the bond, how overwhelmed and overstimulated you were, but unless you said the safe word, he wasn’t stopping.

“T- too much, Az, I can’t-“

“Yes, you can,”

His voice had growled out, pace somehow getting more frenzied and sloppy.

“You can take it, just one more, I know you can.”

You took one more somehow, your body feeling heavy and overwhelmed with heat. You whined, wriggling underneath him. He only glanced down at you, hand now in your dark curls, and spoke.

“One more.”

*********************************************************

His wet mouth came up from between your legs, his tongue darting out to lick his lips and clean off your remaining essence.

Azriel ate pussy like a starved man, licking and sucking everything he could, lapping it all up until you were falling apart around his tongue over and over. He saw your fucked out look and smiled softly, something that made your heart warm, before he slid up next to you on the bed.

He cradled your body against him, pressing wet kisses to your forehead. Your face was scrunched up in what looked like a thoughtful frown as you glanced up at him, a flush creeping up your cheeks. He tilted his head to the side a bit as curiosity took over.

“What is it?”

He asked quietly, clearly wondering if something was wrong or anything. You opened your mouth, closing it again, before just blurting it out.

“Can you teach me how to suck dick?”

You asked, wincing at the sting of embarrassment from you that had probably gone down the bond to him. His eyes widened a bit before he seemed to think. Thinking badly of his silence, you just began stammering.

“I mean, you don’t have to, it’s just you’re always-“

“I’ll teach you.”

His calm voice, holding both desire and affection in it, cut through your sentence as he looked down at you.

He leaned back, adjusting the pillows behind him, and gently spread his legs for you to access. He gestured to between his legs, and you shifted there and settled, eyes on his cock, already hardening again.

“Stroke it first, to get it ready.”

He said, his hand guiding yours to his length, gently wrapping your fingers around it.

“How do I…?”

You asked, trailing off as his hand covered yours, making your hand slowly go back and forth, gently twisting and pulling on the thin, sensitive skin. He guided your thumb to swipe over his slit, then have your hands softly palm the head while he groaned softly.

“Like that, just keep doing that until it’s hard.”

He murmured to you, giving a nod of approval as his hand then drifted off to lay on the bed beside him as he leaned back, and loosely watched you.

It was a learning curve, for sure.

You tried to mimic the motions he’d made on it earlier, and after a few minutes of fumbling, you got a basic rhythm of stroking it up and down, lightly squeezing and stimulating the head. You watched his every reaction, even as precum beaded at the tip, you swiped it away with your thumb.

You followed through with that until it was stiff and firm as a rock, slapping against his stomach when you finally let your hand slip off of it.

“Now what?”

You asked, watching as Azriel then took his cock in one hand and pumped it a few times, before his other hand went to cup your cheek, gently pulling you closer between his legs.

“Give the tip a few licks, maybe a kiss or some light sucking, and hold the base with your hand and stroke it while doing that.”

He instructed you. Your hand went to hold the base of his cock, lightly squeezing and stroking it in the familiar rhythm. You hesitantly put your mouth to his cock, first your tongue only darting out to give little kitten licks against his slit, and a few kisses. After a moment of figuring this out, you then took the red, leaking head into your mouth, tongue swirling around it as you lightly sucked. It was just like sucking a lollipop, you supposed, as you eagerly suckled on it, cheeks hollowing out, except it was a bit salty and smelled musky.

Azriel groaned at that, hips almost bucking up before he stopped them.

“Good girl,”

He purred, one hand sliding into your hair, and ever so gently tugging you further onto it.

“Your tongue — lick the underside of it.”

He managed to gasp out, breathless as you followed his instructions almost perfectly, tongue flattening and rubbing against the underside of his dick. You simply looked up at him with those bright blue eyes, eager for more instructions, eager to please and satisfy him; to satisfy your mate.

His hand on your hair guided you to move your head forward and backward, gently bobbing as you suckled and licked him. Within no time his words turned to strained groans, especially when he guided one of your hands to tenderly squeeze and play with his balls.

His eyes had gone watery by then, and with a sharp cry, he came in your mouth, and not knowing what to do, you lapped it up with your tongue and swallowed.

You slipped your mouth off of him, and his legs remained open as he tried to work through his orgasm. You crawled up next to him in the bed, settling under the warm blankets, and pulling his body close, nuzzling into him and taking in his scent deeply. It was a mixture of pine and rich earth, delicious to your senses in every way.

When he’d finally recovered enough to speak without ever word coming out a whimper, he turned on his side to you and his arms moved on their own, wrapping around you and pulling you tight against him, one of his wings draping over you. It was as if to cover your naked body so that none could see the beauty that was you other than him.

“Did I do it right?”

You asked, whispering the question into his ear. He chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his chest and your being.

“You did it perfectly.”

He replied, voice tired but satisfied, the mating bond content enough to let the both of you sleep without any further frenzy activities.

With a sigh of satisfaction, he rested his head against the top of yours, breathing in and smelling the shampoo and conditioner, and all of the haircare products you use. The thought made him smile.

“I love you.”

The shadowsinger said softly. He felt you smile against his skin before speaking just as soft and quiet as him.

“I love you, too.”

Tags:

@marvelsmylife

@mischiefmanagers

@lilah-asteria

[solar-wing]

⚣ Too Late 💙

⚣💙 A/N → request for @alexanderstarhero! Hope you enjoy it! Also, I apologize for my extended absence. I have a job, I'm starting a new school program, and business-related things keep me busy, but I'm still here guys! I promise! Not sure how I feel about this one. I feel like I could've done better but we desperately need some more Clark Kent x male reader though so here you go. Which, by the way, if you haven't checked out @nouearth, his Clark fics and literally everything else makes me melt and feel unholy things. Churches beware. ANYWAY, Hope everyone likes it! WARNINGS: Magical Male Reader | Angst & Fluff | Childhood Friends To Lovers | SFW |

⚣💙 Summary → You know, one would think moving to a completely different city in hopes of forgetting your past life and feelings would be enough. But fate is a sneaky little bastard that just loves to play with your feelings. Is it too late for a do-over?

⚣💙 Words → 12.4K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙

⚣ ENJOY 💙

The city lights of Metropolis flickered through the windows of a small, cozy apartment, where the hum of traffic below provided a constant background noise. Y/N stood by the window, a glass of juice in hand, staring out at the skyline. Since moving to the city, he often found himself feeling nostalgic, with old memories of Smallville popping into his mind more frequently than he’d like. Most of those memories had a common thread.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he took a sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the anxious tightness in his chest. Moving to Metropolis was supposed to be a fresh start—a way to leave behind his past and focus on building a better, normal life for himself, free from the constraints of small-town life.

Since he was a baby, Y/N had been gifted with magical abilities. How he got these powers was a mystery to both him and his parents; they could never find any trace of magical ability in their ancestry. With no idea where the powers came from, and no one to turn to for help, his parents did everything they could to hide their son’s abilities from the outside world. They tried their best to teach him control, but without expertise, they were flying blind.

Growing up, Y/N barely knew how to control or use his powers. You’d think in a small town like his, people would have noticed or called in the town priest, but that wasn’t the case. In Metropolis, when something strange happened—something that often happened to Y/N—people would give him odd looks, but then they’d move on with their day as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. In Smallville, though, everyone treated it as normal.

After the Kents arrived with their new kid, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, the town acted as if every strange occurrence was just part of everyday life. They quickly shut down anyone who dared to question it, and that extended to both Clark Kent and Y/N.

Small towns were usually known for everyone knowing everyone’s business. Gossip was the native language. But not in Smallville. Y/N couldn’t help but smile a little at the memory of how the line between the ordinary and the extraordinary seemed to blur there. Most places would have been up in arms if they noticed the strange occurrences that happened in Smallville. But in that little Kansas town, people had an uncanny ability to overlook the impossible, shrugging off the extraordinary as if it were just another quirk of life.

Take Clark Kent, for instance. Anyone could see that something was different about him. He was stronger, faster, and able to do things most grown men couldn’t even imagine, let alone a small farm boy. But the townsfolk never questioned it. They simply accepted that he could do things no one else could and moved on.

It was the same with Y/N. He might accidentally cause a book to float off a shelf or a light to flicker when he was upset, but no one in Smallville ever made a fuss, something his parents were very grateful for. There were whispers—there always are in small towns—but they never left closed doors. The people of Smallville had learned long ago to mind their own business, especially when it came to the Kents and Y/N.

Even more so when a bunch of guys in black suits, glasses, and SUVs showed up one week, probing around town and asking strange questions. It had been after one of the more noticeable incidents—a moment when Clark saved someone in a way that couldn’t be easily explained. If there was one thing you could count on from a small town, it was that they weren’t saying anything to those types of Feds or government officials.

The memory was still vivid in Y/N’s mind: the way the town closed ranks, the polite but firm way the locals deflected every question, sending agents on wild goose chases until they finally gave up. His parents had mentioned that it was nothing compared to when that strange meteor hit the Kent farm and a bunch of government agents and scientists showed up—the same week the Kents got a new kid named Clark.

It was as if the entire town had decided, collectively and without speaking a word, that whatever was going on with the Kents—and by extension, Y/N—was their business and no one else’s. The unspoken rule in Smallville was clear: if you saw something strange, you didn’t see it. You didn’t ask questions, and you certainly didn’t talk about it. It was a kind of willful ignorance, a way for the town to protect its own from prying eyes. And in some strange, twisted way, it worked.

Y/N often wondered how much of it was a conscious choice and how much was just the way Smallville was. It was as if the town itself had decided to shield them, to create a bubble where the extraordinary was just another part of everyday life.

But as comforting as that was, it was also suffocating. Because even in a town that turned a blind eye to the unusual, Y/N couldn’t escape the feeling that he was different, that there was something wrong with him. He couldn’t shake the fear that one day, the bubble would burst, and everyone would see him for what he really was—a freak, an outcast.

At least he had a friend.

Imagine the two kids in town who both had episodes of strange, inexplicable things happening to them or around them becoming friends. Completely ironic, like something straight out of a story. Unless...

...

Nah.

But in a place where the extraordinary was treated with a shrug, having someone like Clark as a friend made all the difference. It was as if fate—or whatever unseen force governed the universe—had decided that these two oddities should find each other. And find each other they did, in the most natural, unassuming way possible.

Clark and Y/N became fast friends, drawn together by their shared experiences of feeling different, even if neither of them fully understood why. They never talked about the strange things that happened to them, never discussed how Clark could lift bales of hay like they weighed nothing, or how Y/N could sometimes make things move with just a thought. It was an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that whatever was happening to them was theirs to carry, together.

In a town that turned a blind eye to the impossible, Clark was the one person who made Y/N feel like he wasn’t alone. There was a quiet comfort in their friendship, a sense of belonging that Y/N had never felt before. They were both outsiders in their own way, but together, they found a place where they could be themselves, where they didn’t have to pretend or hide.

But as they grew older, that comfort became a source of anxiety for Y/N. The more time he spent with Clark, the more he realized that his feelings for his friend were deeper than just friendship. He cared about Clark in a way that went beyond the bond they shared, and it terrified him. In a town that could overlook floating books and superhuman strength, there were still lines that couldn’t be crossed, and Y/N knew that his feelings for Clark were one of them.

He tried to suppress those feelings, to bury them deep inside where they couldn’t cause any harm. But the harder he tried, the more they grew, until it became impossible to ignore them. He started to pull away, putting distance between himself and Clark, hoping that space would make the feelings fade. It didn’t.

Plus, Y/N still didn’t understand the extent of his abilities, and he knew sometimes his powers would react to his emotions. He didn’t want to risk doing anything that could hurt Clark. He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if something happened because of his inability to control his powers.

Yet, good old noble Clark, always perceptive and caring, noticed the change. He didn’t push or pry, but there was always that look in his eyes, a quiet concern that only made Y/N’s heart ache more. Clark didn’t know why Y/N was pulling away, but he never stopped trying to bridge the gap. He was always there with a smile, a warm word, or an invitation to hang out, never letting the distance between them grow too wide.

It was those small gestures that made it so hard for Y/N to keep his resolve. Every time he saw Clark, every time Clark reached out, Y/N was reminded of why he had fallen for him in the first place. Clark was kind, selfless, and endlessly patient—the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back without a second thought. How could Y/N not fall in love with someone like that?

But that love was exactly what made Y/N so afraid. The more he cared about Clark, the more he feared losing him, either because of his uncontrolled magic or because of the feelings he couldn’t keep buried forever. He knew that if he stayed in Smallville, if he stayed close to Clark, something would eventually slip. Maybe he’d accidentally reveal his powers, or maybe his feelings would come spilling out in a moment of weakness. Either way, Y/N was sure that it would end with Clark looking at him differently, seeing him as something strange, something other.

Thankfully, the age of adulthood and high school graduation came, and Y/N took that as his way out. His parents were as worried as ever about him moving to a college so far away, but he reassured them he’d be fine.

He decided on college in New York, thinking the change from small town to big city was exactly what he needed. At least there, it made sense for people to turn a blind eye to whatever strange things were going on around them.

But even throughout his years of undergrad, Y/N could never shake the memories of Smallville, and more specifically, he could never forget Clark. No matter how much distance he put between them, the memories of their friendship lingered, haunting him in the quiet moments when he was alone. He would often catch himself thinking about Clark—wondering what he was doing, if he was still in Smallville, if he had moved on with his life the way Y/N had tried to.

Y/N thought that maybe, over time, those feelings would fade, that he would move on and forget the boy who had once meant everything to him. But they never did. Even in the crowded, bustling city of New York, where life moved at a breakneck pace and there was always something new to distract him, Y/N found his thoughts drifting back to Clark.

He tried dating other people, hoping that maybe if he found someone else, someone who wasn’t Clark, it would help him move on. But it never worked. No one else could compare to the boy who had always been there for him, who had seen him at his worst and never judged him for it. Every relationship ended the same way, with Y/N feeling like he was chasing something he could never have, like he was trying to fill a void that only Clark could fill.

Then, after graduation, Y/N was offered a job in Metropolis. It was a great opportunity, the kind of offer he couldn’t turn down. It wasn’t too far from where he was already living, but he figured a new change of scenery couldn’t be too bad.

Plus, he wanted to check out the rumors he’d heard of some sort of superhero who had started making headlines in Metropolis. The stories seemed almost too wild to believe—a man with superhuman strength, speed, and the ability to fly, saving people and fighting crime in the heart of the city. It was the kind of thing that would have been dismissed as tabloid nonsense anywhere else, but Y/N knew better. If there was one thing Smallville had taught him, it was that the extraordinary often hid in plain sight.

So, with a mix of curiosity and the desire for a fresh start, Y/N packed his bags and moved to Metropolis. He found a small, cozy apartment in a quieter part of the city, close enough to the action but far enough to avoid the chaos. The job was great—challenging, fulfilling, and exactly what he needed to take his mind off things. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was still running, still trying to outrun the shadow of his past.

Despite his attempts to leave his old life behind, Y/N couldn’t completely ignore his powers. He had spent too long hiding them, too long fearing them, but deep down, he believed that if he had these abilities, he should use them for good. In Smallville, he had been careful, using his magic only when absolutely necessary, but here in Metropolis, he found himself with more opportunities to help in small, subtle ways.

He’d mend a broken bike chain with a whisper of an incantation or quietly heal a scraped knee when no one was looking. He’d use his magic to nudge a stray cat away from traffic or to coax a wilting plant back to life. He was always careful, always discreet, making sure that no one noticed the little miracles he performed. It was his way of giving back, of using the gifts he had been given to make the world around him just a little bit better.

But there were times when he couldn’t help but step in and do more.

One evening, he walked past a small, family-owned bookstore that he had become fond of. The owner, an elderly man who had run the shop for decades, was sitting behind the counter with a look of deep worry on his face. Over the weeks, Y/N had noticed the shelves becoming sparser, and the customers fewer. The man had confided in Y/N once, mentioning how the business was struggling, how the bills were piling up, and how he feared he might lose the store if things didn’t turn around soon.

Y/N couldn’t bear to see the man lose everything he had worked so hard to build. So, that night, under the cover of darkness, Y/N returned to the bookstore. He stood outside the shop, focusing his energy on the building, weaving a spell that would attract more customers and give the store a sense of warmth and welcoming. He whispered incantations for prosperity and good fortune, sending out waves of magic that would subtly influence the minds of those who passed by, drawing them in with an inexplicable urge to browse and buy.

Over the next few days, Y/N was delighted to see the shop bustling with customers. The owner’s smile returned, and the store was once again filled with the chatter of people and the smell of fresh coffee brewing in the corner. The shelves began to fill up again, and the old man even had to hire an assistant to help him manage the increasing business.

Another time, he found himself playing guardian angel when he was walking home from work one night and spotted a young woman on the opposite side of the street, her pace quickening as she noticed a group of men following her. Y/N’s heart raced, and he quickly assessed the situation. He couldn’t confront them directly—he wasn’t a superhero—but he could help in other ways.

A few thoughts and concentrated focus, and suddenly a series of events unfolded: a nearby street light flickered and went out, casting the area in shadow; a loud crash from behind pulled the men's attention away from her; a gentle breeze nudged her toward a more populated, well-lit area. With the streetlight out, it gave her natural cover long enough to slip out of sight and into the safety of a nearby diner, the sound of her heels muffled by Y/N’s magic.

Y/N watched from a distance, relieved when the woman was safe inside, her would-be attackers now lost and confused. It wasn’t the first time he had done something like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Recently, he visited a local hospital where a friend’s child was being treated. The doctors were worried; the illness wasn’t responding to treatment, and the prognosis was grim. Y/N spent hours by the child’s bedside, speaking softly to him, holding his hand. When no one was looking, he let his magic flow through him, just a touch, just enough to help the child’s body fight back.

The next morning, the doctors were stunned by the sudden improvement. They couldn’t explain it, chalked it up to a miracle or a sudden turn of fate, but Y/N knew better. He slipped away before anyone could question it, leaving behind only a whispered prayer of thanks for the child’s recovery.

Y/N never took credit for any of his acts. And while they weren’t grand, weren’t the stuff of legends, they were enough to give him a sense of purpose, a way to use his gifts without drawing too much attention. He was careful, always careful, to remain in the shadows, to let the world think these small miracles were just coincidences, nothing more.

But now, standing in his apartment, staring out at the city skyline, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like he was right back where he started. The memories of Smallville were stronger than ever, and the loneliness he had tried so hard to escape felt more suffocating in this big city than it ever had in the small town.

It had been years since he left, but the memories of that quiet town still lingered in his mind, especially the memories of Clark Kent. He just couldn’t figure out why they had suddenly become so strong. Maybe it was the time of year, or maybe it was because he had been thinking about how he used his magic to help people in Metropolis—something that Clark would surely approve of, even if he never knew about it.

Or maybe it was because, despite everything he had done to distance himself, Clark had always been there, a constant presence in his thoughts, no matter how much Y/N tried to move on.

He took another sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the tightness in his chest. He hadn’t seen Clark in years, hadn’t heard from him since he left Smallville, but the feelings he had for his old friend hadn’t faded. If anything, they had only grown stronger, deepening with time and distance. And that was what scared him the most—how much he still cared, how much he still missed him.

Y/N set his glass down on the windowsill, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shake off the nostalgia. He had a new life now, a good life, and he couldn’t afford to dwell on the past. Clark was probably living his own life, happy and successful, just as Y/N was trying to do.

But the more he tried to push the memories away, the more they clung to him, like shadows that refused to disappear. He sighed, turning his gaze out the window, hoping that the familiar sight of the city would ground him, would remind him of the new path he had chosen.

The city lights twinkled in the distance, a sea of illumination against the darkened sky. Y/N’s eyes scanned the skyline absently, taking in the familiar sights he had grown accustomed to since moving to Metropolis. But something caught his eye, something unusual that made his breath catch in his throat.

High above the city, a figure streaked across the sky, moving with impossible speed and grace. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the red and blue blur—a sight that had become increasingly familiar to the citizens of Metropolis. It was Superman.

Y/N watched, mesmerized, as the figure soared through the night, his movements precise and powerful. But as he watched, a strange sensation began to creep over him, a feeling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn’t just awe or admiration—though those feelings were there, too—it was something deeper, something unsettling.

There was something about Superman, something in the way he moved, in the way he seemed to command the air around him, that tugged at the edges of Y/N’s consciousness. It was as if some hidden part of him recognized the hero in the sky, even though he knew that was impossible. He had never met Superman, had never been anywhere near him. And yet…

Y/N pressed his hand against the cool glass of the window, his heart pounding in his chest. His magic, usually so controlled, began to stir, responding to the swirl of emotions inside him. The sensation was both familiar and alien, a strange mix of nostalgia and unease that made his chest tighten.

As he watched Superman disappear into the distance, Y/N couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that had settled over him. It was as if the presence of the hero had awakened something inside him, something that had been dormant for years. And with that awakening came a sense of foreboding, a nagging feeling that his past was not as far behind him as he had hoped.

Y/N tore his gaze away from the window, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling that had taken root in his chest. But even as he turned away, the sense of familiarity lingered, haunting him like a ghost from a life he had tried so hard to leave behind.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but the image of Superman remained burned into his mind, along with the inexplicable sense that something—someone—was drawing him back into a world he thought he had escaped.

And deep down, Y/N knew that this was only the beginning.

The grand ballroom of the Metropolis City Hall buzzed with chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. The charity event his job was sponsoring was in full swing, a glamorous affair with the city’s elite mingling and donating to a worthy cause. Y/N stood near the edge of the room, awkwardly holding a glass of water and wondering how quickly he could make a polite escape.

This wasn’t exactly his scene. Networking? Sure. Small talk? Not so much. Especially with these tone-deaf, overly stiff airheads.  He glanced around, trying to locate the nearest exit, but the sea of people made it difficult. And just when he thought found a suitable path of escape, a waiter with a tray of hors d'oeuvres suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Crab cake?”

“Uh, no thanks,” Y/N mumbled, sidestepping the tray, only to nearly collide with a woman in a sequined dress who was clearly on a mission to get to the bar. He offered a quick apology and finally made it to a quiet corner, where he could breathe again.

As he scanned the room, his thoughts drifted back to last night and a certain caped superhero. His curiosity combined with the still overwhelming feelings of longing and nostalgia had the magic in him feeling antsy. And the last thing Y/N needed was to accidentally cause a chandelier to implode or a champagne glass to refill itself endlessly.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself, not wanting to make a big scene considering he wanted to make a hasty and sneaky exit. As he opened his eyes, Y/N forced his thoughts away from Superman, away from the strange connection he’d felt the night before. He needed to focus on the present, on getting through this evening without incident.

Y/N sighed, taking a sip of his water. This was supposed to be a fresh start. The past was behind him, and he needed to keep it that way.

But fate, as it often does, had other plans. Little sneaky bastard.

Just as he was about to make a break for the exit, Y/N’s eyes caught sight of someone across the room, and his heart nearly stopped. There, standing by the dessert table with a bemused expression, was Clark Kent.

Of course, Clark would be standing around looking lost with his cute little confused expression. Even now as a grown man, Clark managed to keep his boyish and innocent demeanor. Y/N’s mouth went dry as his eyes took in the sight of the male—older, more polished, and just as big as ever.

Since they were little, Clark always stood out among the other kids for his build and height alone. And it looks like that didn't change with the way he towered over everyone in the room and how his broad shoulders filled out his suit perfectly, the fabric clinging just right in all the places that mattered. Y/N felt a familiar flutter in his chest, a mix of nostalgia and something more complicated that he’d been trying to ignore for years.

Clark, as if sensing someone’s gaze on him, looked up from the dessert table. His eyes, those same bright blue eyes that Y/N remembered so well, scanned the room briefly before landing directly on him. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, he considered ducking behind the nearest potted plant.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Y/N could feel his pulse in his throat, and for a second, he entertained the idea of hiding behind the nearest potted plant.

But then Clark’s face lit up with a grin that could have powered the entire room, and he started making his way over, weaving through the crowd with the kind of determined politeness that only Clark could pull off.

Panic set in, and Y/N’s mind scrambled for a plan, but his feet were rooted to the spot, his body betraying him. All he could do was watch as Clark closed the distance between them, that familiar grin never leaving his face.

“Y/N!” Clark’s voice was as warm and friendly as Y/N remembered, and before he knew it, he was being pulled into a hug that was just as firm and comforting as it had always been.

Y/N stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected embrace. When Clark finally pulled back, still keeping a hand on Y/N’s shoulder as if afraid he might vanish, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the slight smudge of chocolate on Clark’s tie. It was such a Clark thing to have—always a little messy, always endearing.

“Clark,” Y/N managed to say, his voice coming out more breathless than he intended. “It’s been a while.”

Clark beamed at him, the smile reaching his eyes in that way that always made Y/N feel like everything was going to be okay. “Yeah, it really has,” Clark said, his tone filled with a warmth that made Y/N’s heart ache with memories of simpler times. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the Smallville backdrop.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, trying to keep things light despite the sudden rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Yeah, I guess we’ve both changed a bit.”

Clark’s gaze lingered on Y/N’s face, a mix of curiosity and concern in his eyes. It was clear that Clark had questions, but to his credit, he didn’t push. Instead, he gave Y/N one of those easy, reassuring smiles that had always been able to calm him down. “I’m really glad to see you again. I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

There it was—the punch to the gut that Y/N had been dreading. He had missed Clark too, more than he wanted to admit. But standing here, face-to-face with him after all these years, all those old fears and feelings began to resurface. The fear of Clark discovering the truth about his powers, about his feelings. The fear of losing the one person who had always meant the most to him.

“I’ve missed you too,” Y/N said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was the truth, but saying it out loud made the tightness in his chest even worse.

Clark’s smile softened, and for a brief moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room. Y/N could almost believe that they could pick up where they left off, that everything could go back to the way it was. But deep down, he knew it could never be that simple.

His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed slightly, a familiar look of concern flickering across his face. “You okay? You seem a little… off.”

Y/N forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as strained as it felt. “I’m fine, just—uh—surprised, I guess. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well, surprise!” Clark laughed with his usual shy manner that was somehow still charming for Y/N’s frayed nerves. “I’ve been working at the Daily Planet. Moved to Metropolis not too long ago. How about you? What brings you here?”

“Work,” Y/N answered quickly, trying to keep the conversation light. “Got a job offer I couldn’t turn down.”

Clark nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/N. It was as if he was trying to read him, to figure out what was going on beneath the surface. For a moment, Y/N was afraid that Clark could see right through him, could see the turmoil and conflict he was struggling with.

But then, the moment passed, and Clark was smiling again, his expression softening.

Y/N cleared his throat, forcing his thoughts away from the past and back to the present. "So, the Daily Planet, huh? That’s a pretty big deal," he said, trying to keep the conversation light.

Clark’s eyes lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! It’s been a dream come true. And the best part? I get to work with some amazing people—Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen. They’re right over there, actually," Clark added, his tone suddenly turning a bit more nervous. "You’ve got to meet them!"

Before Y/N could even process the idea, Clark grabbed his arm, leading him through the crowd with an urgency that caught Y/N off guard. He barely had time to adjust before they were standing in front of a petite woman with sharp eyes and a confident demeanor, who was mid-conversation with a young man enthusiastically fiddling with a vintage camera.

"Lois! Jimmy!" Clark called out, drawing their attention.

Lois turned first, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Y/N. Then her expression softened into a warm, welcoming smile. "Clark! Who’s this?"

Clark beamed, looking from Lois to Y/N with a hint of nervous energy. "This is Y/N. We grew up together in Smallville."

"Smallville?" Lois’s eyebrow arched with clear interest. "Now that’s a place with some stories, I bet."

Jimmy, now peering at Y/N through the lens of his camera, quickly snapped a picture before lowering it with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, couldn’t resist. It’s a habit."

Y/N chuckled, shaking his head. "No worries. I’m used to it."

Lois leaned in, her curiosity clearly piqued. "So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? I can only imagine."

Y/N glanced at Clark, who looked both hopeful and slightly anxious. "Clark and I were pretty much inseparable growing up," Y/N said with a smile, trying to keep the conversation light. "He was always the guy you could count on, the one who’d help you out of a jam and then offer you pie afterward."

Lois’s eyes twinkled with intrigue, clearly not ready to let the topic go. "Pie and jam, huh? Sounds like you two got into some interesting situations. Any fun stories you care to share?"

Y/N felt his heart rate pick up. He could sense the inquisitiveness behind Lois’s casual tone, the way she was gently probing for more. She was good—really good. "Oh, you know, small-town stuff," he said, forcing a chuckle. "Mostly just boring farm work and school."

Clark, sensing Y/N’s discomfort, quickly jumped in. "Yeah, nothing too exciting. Just your average childhood, right, Y/N?"

"Right," Y/N agreed, a bit too quickly. He could feel Lois’s eyes on him, studying him, and it made his magic stir uneasily. The last thing he wanted was for her to start asking more pointed questions that might lead her to the truth.

Lois didn’t miss a beat. "So, you two must have been really close, then. I bet you know all of Clark’s secrets," she said with a teasing smile, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. He forced another laugh, this one more strained. "Well, everyone’s got their secrets, right?"

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the subtle tension in Y/N’s voice. "True," she said slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to piece together a puzzle. "But something tells me you’re not just any old friend from Smallville."

Clark, sensing that the conversation was veering into dangerous territory, let out a nervous laugh. "Lois, come on, don’t interrogate him on the first meeting!"

Jimmy, sensing the shift in tone, chimed in, grinning as he tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, Lois, ease up! You don’t want to scare off Clark’s oldest friend."

Lois gave a soft laugh, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll back off… for now."

Y/N smiled, but there was a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t shake. Lois’s perceptiveness had always been one of her strengths, and it was clear she was picking up on more than he wanted to reveal.

"Seriously, though," Lois said, her tone softening as she gave Y/N a more genuine smile. "It’s good to meet you. Any friend of Clark’s is a friend of ours."

Y/N relaxed slightly, appreciating the warm reception despite his earlier nerves. "Thanks, Lois. I appreciate that."

As the conversation continued, Y/N found himself relaxing a bit more, though the earlier tension still lingered in the back of his mind. He knew he’d have to be careful around Lois—her curiosity and sharp instincts were not something to be underestimated.

Lois, ever the sharp-eyed reporter, leaned closer to Y/N. "So, what brings you to Metropolis? Work?"

"Yeah," Y/N nodded, "I got an offer I couldn’t turn down."

Lois nodded, impressed. "Well, welcome to the city. You know, we’re always looking for interesting people to feature in the Planet. Maybe we’ll run into each other more often."

"Maybe," Y/N said, feeling a bit more at ease. "It’s a small world after all."

Clark chuckled at that, his earlier nervousness fading as the conversation flowed more naturally. "I’m really glad we ran into each other, Y/N. We should definitely hang out more. I mean, if you’re not too busy with work."

Realistically, Y/N should have declined. He should have politely excused himself and gone home, putting an end to the whole thing. But when he looked at Clark, saw the hope and excitement in his eyes, he couldn't bring himself to say no.

All his nervous thoughts and reservations about what could happen if he allowed himself to get close to Clark again seemed to just fade to the back of his mind as he re-connected with him and got to know his two friends. A new familiar feeling also settled in place as well, but not so much nostalgia.

It was more of something he didn't even remember feeling. A sense of ease and comfort, his magic calm and feeling completely grounded. A feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time but something that wasn't new or unfamiliar, a very welcomed sensation and peace.

"I'd love to," Y/N said, his heart skipping a beat.

Clark's smile was brighter than the sun, and though Y/N knew he was in trouble just for that, emotions and impulse overtook his logic. Thus, he didn't really care.

As the night continued, Y/N found himself more at ease, the earlier tension gradually dissipating. Lois, ever the investigative reporter, kept throwing glances his way, but she seemed content for now, her curiosity temporarily satisfied. Jimmy, meanwhile, was snapping pictures of everything and everyone, his energy infectious.

Y/N had to admit, despite his initial apprehension, he was enjoying himself. The company was good, the conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was part of something. A small part of him wondered if this was what he had been missing—connection, camaraderie, a sense of belonging.

Clark leaned in closer, a warm smile on his face. "So, Y/N, how have you been? I mean, really been?"

Y/N paused, considering his answer. He could have brushed off the question, given a generic response about work being busy and life being hectic. But something about the way Clark asked, the genuine concern in his voice, made Y/N want to be honest.

"I’ve been… okay," Y/N said, the words coming out slower than he expected. "Moving to Metropolis has been a big change, but it’s good. I’m still finding my way, I guess."

Clark nodded, his expression softening with understanding. "I get that. Moving here was a big adjustment for me too. But you know, it helps when you’ve got friends around. People you can rely on."

Y/N smiled at that, a warmth spreading through him. "Yeah, it does."

Lois, sensing the shift in the conversation, jumped back in with her trademark curiosity. "So, Y/N, what exactly do you do for work? You mentioned an offer you couldn’t turn down."

Y/N hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. "I work in consulting," he said, keeping it vague. "It’s a bit of everything, really. I help businesses with strategy, operations, that sort of thing."

Lois’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not satisfied with the lack of detail, but she let it slide, for now. "That sounds interesting. Metropolis must be a great place for that kind of work."

"It is," Y/N replied, grateful she didn’t press further.

Jimmy, ever the enthusiastic one, suddenly popped up between them, holding out his camera. "Hey, how about a picture? You guys look great together!"

Y/N barely had time to react before Jimmy was positioning them for a shot, his camera clicking away. Clark chuckled, clearly used to Jimmy’s antics, while Lois struck a pose with practiced ease.

As they waited for the flash, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of surrealism wash over him. Here he was, reconnecting with an old friend, surrounded by new ones, in a city that was starting to feel less like a strange place and more like a potential home.

The camera flashed, capturing the moment, and Jimmy grinned as he checked the screen. "Perfect! This one’s definitely going in the album."

Lois nodded in agreement, a smile on her face. "Yeah, this is one for the books. You’re officially part of the crew now, Y/N."

Y/N laughed, the sound genuine and light. "Well, I guess there’s no turning back now."

Clark’s smile was warm, his eyes shining with something that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. "I’m really glad you’re here, Y/N. It feels like old times."

Y/N nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirl within him. "Yeah, it does."

As the evening drew on, the four of them continued to chat, the conversation flowing easily between light-hearted banter and more serious topics. Y/N felt a connection with Clark and his friends that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and for the first time since moving to Metropolis, he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the moment.

But as the night wore on and the event began to wind down, Y/N couldn’t shake the nagging feeling at the back of his mind. Lois’s earlier questions had been harmless enough, but he knew her type—persistent, sharp, and always on the lookout for a story. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down too much, especially with his magic always threatening to reveal itself.

Yet, despite the risks, Y/N found himself wanting to spend more time with Clark, to catch up on the years they’d missed, and maybe even find a way to make this new life in Metropolis work. It was a dangerous line to walk, but for tonight, he was willing to take that risk.

As they all said their goodbyes and made plans to meet up again soon, Y/N felt a sense of contentment settle over him. Maybe this fresh start in Metropolis wouldn’t be as complicated as he feared. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to balance the old and the new, to keep his secrets while building something real with the people who were quickly becoming more than just acquaintances.

And maybe, this time, since he was older and more aware and mature, he could keep his feelings for Clark in check.

Yeah, that hope didn't last long.

Y/N sighed as he stared up at the ceiling of his apartment, reflecting on how quickly things had spiraled out of control since reconnecting with Clark. It had only been a few weeks, but in that short time, his life had become a whirlwind of old emotions, new challenges, and unexpected complications.

He’d spent more time with Clark, Lois, and Jimmy than he had anticipated. There were coffee runs, after-work dinners, and late-night brainstorming sessions where Lois would excitedly discuss her latest scoop while Jimmy showed off his latest photos. Clark, ever the supportive friend, would listen intently, adding his own insights with that same gentle warmth that had always made Y/N feel at ease.

Lois and Jimmy were friendly and welcoming, but Y/N could never fully relax around them. He still had to always be on guard, constantly aware of the magic simmering just beneath the surface.

And despite the camaraderie, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. It wasn’t just that he was trying to reintegrate into Clark’s life; it was the constant need to keep his magic under control, especially around Lois and Jimmy. The two of them were sharp—Lois, with her inquisitive nature, and Jimmy, with his keen eye for detail. They’d pick up on any slip-up, any sign that Y/N wasn’t just an ordinary guy from Smallville.

And then there were the moments of crisis—because Metropolis was never short on those. It seemed like every time Y/N was with the trio, something would happen. A runaway bus, a building fire, some random new villain on the loose—something always required Superman’s intervention. And every single time, Clark would disappear with a flimsy excuse, only for Superman to show up moments later.

The first time it happened, Y/N had been at a food truck with Clark and Jimmy, enjoying a rare sunny afternoon. They were laughing about something silly Jimmy had said when suddenly, the sound of screeching tires and panicked screams filled the air. Without missing a beat, Clark had mumbled something about needing to make a quick call and bolted, leaving Y/N standing there confused with Lois and Jimmy. Moments later, Superman was on the scene, saving the day like clockwork.

Lois and Jimmy had immediately sprung into action, Jimmy snapping photos while Lois started interviewing witnesses. They had been weirdly calm about the whole thing, a lot of things actually when Y/N thought about it. It was like Smallville all over again, things that should cause people to react with caution and apprehension, but instead, they barely blinked an eye.

It didn’t help that every time Clark returned, he looked winded and disheveled, and Lois would give him a knowing glance that made Y/N’s stomach twist with unease.

Meanwhile, he'd also been using his magic discreetly in these various scenarios to help keep people safe and minimize destruction and casualties. But in the chaos, he’d nearly been caught by Lois, who had turned around just as Y/N was subtly redirecting a beam of wood away from a trapped child.

“Hey, how’d you do that?” she’d asked, her sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Y/N had stammered out a weak excuse, something about adrenaline and luck, but he could tell Lois wasn’t convinced. She’d given him that look—the one that said she wasn’t done with him yet.

And it wasn’t the last time, either. Every time something happened, Y/N found himself using his magic to help, and every time, he came dangerously close to being caught by Lois. She was perceptive, and it was clear she was starting to get suspicious. Her questions about his past, about his connection to Clark, were getting more pointed, and Y/N could feel the pressure mounting.

But there was another element to this that Y/N hadn’t anticipated—jealousy. The more time he spent with the group, the more he noticed how close Clark and Lois were. It wasn’t just their professional partnership; it was the way they interacted, the easy banter, the shared looks, the inside jokes. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way Clark’s eyes lit up whenever Lois was around, how he seemed more at ease with her than anyone else.

It irritated Y/N more than he wanted to admit. He knew it was irrational—Clark was allowed to have close friends, and Lois was obviously important to him. But every time he saw them together, it felt like a thorn in his side, a constant reminder of how complicated things had become. It didn’t help that Lois was so naturally curious, always asking questions about his and Clark’s past, digging into their history with a relentless enthusiasm that made Y/N squirm.

And then there were the quiet moments—those rare instances when it was just Y/N and Clark, away from the chaos of the city. They’d talk about everything and nothing, slipping into the easy rhythm of their past friendship. But every time, Y/N felt the old feelings bubbling up, stronger than ever.

Like the night they’d gone for a walk along the Metropolis River. The city lights reflected off the water, casting a soft glow over everything. Clark had been unusually quiet, his hands tucked into his pockets as they strolled. Y/N had felt the tension between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

“I’m glad you’re here, Y/N,” Clark had said suddenly, breaking the silence. “It’s like… it feels right, having you around again.”

Y/N had smiled, but it hadn’t reached his eyes. He wanted to say something—anything—that would match the sincerity in Clark’s voice, but the words had caught in his throat. Instead, he’d just nodded, trying to ignore the way his heart raced every time Clark looked at him like that.

But every time they were together, every time Clark smiled at him or brushed against him accidentally, Y/N felt his resolve weakening. It was getting harder to pretend that everything was fine, that he didn’t still have feelings for Clark.

And as they spent more time together, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder—did Clark feel it too? There were moments, subtle ones, where Y/N thought he saw something in Clark’s eyes, a lingering gaze, a soft smile that seemed meant just for him. But then Clark would pull back, or Lois would step in, and Y/N was left questioning if it was all in his head.

But now, lying on his couch and staring at the ceiling, Y/N couldn’t ignore it anymore. The old feelings hadn’t just resurfaced—they were drowning him, pulling him under with a force he couldn’t fight.

It wasn’t just about Clark, though that was a huge part of it. It was the fear of what would happen if Clark—or worse, Lois and Jimmy—found out about his magic. They were all so caught up in their own world of secrets and dangers, and Y/N wasn’t sure if he could handle being part of it. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up the act much longer.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Clark: Hey, want to grab dinner with Lois and Jimmy? We’re thinking Thai.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before typing a quick reply: Sure, sounds good.

As he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking a tightrope, balancing between the life he had built for himself and the one he had left behind. And with every step, he was getting closer to falling off.

As Y/N walked to the restaurant, he kept his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, trying to calm the unease that had settled in his chest. He needed to get a grip, to find a way to keep his feelings in check before they, and thus his magic spiraled out of control. The last thing he wanted was for Clark to notice—or worse, for Lois to start asking questions.

By the time he reached the restaurant, Y/N had managed to push his anxiety down, forcing a smile as he spotted Clark, Lois, and Jimmy waiting outside. Clark waved him over, his smile as bright as ever.

"Hey, glad you could make it," Clark greeted him with his usual warm and bright tone.

"Heh, wouldn't miss it," Y/N chuckled, trying to keep his voice casual.

As they ate, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the easy dynamic between Lois and Clark. There was a familiarity there, an unspoken understanding that made Y/N’s chest tighten with a mix of jealousy and longing. He wanted to be part of that, to be as close to Clark as Lois was.

But then Lois turned to him, her sharp eyes studying him with that same curiosity he’d noticed at the gala. “So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? He never talks much about his hometown.”

Y/N felt his pulse quicken. He shot a quick glance at Clark, who was suddenly very interested in his pad Thai.

“Oh, you know,” Y/N began, trying to keep his tone light, “just your average small-town kid. We spent a lot of time getting into trouble and trying to keep out of it.”

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with the vague answer. “Really? I find that hard to believe. Clark’s practically the poster boy for responsibility.”

Y/N forced a laugh, trying to deflect Lois’s probing gaze. “Yeah, well, even poster boys have their moments. We were just kids, you know? Doing dumb stuff like exploring abandoned barns or sneaking out to the creek after dark. Nothing too wild.”

Lois leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing with that trademark inquisitiveness. “Come on, Y/N, you’re holding out on me. I want the juicy details. What kind of trouble did Clark get into?”

Y/N could feel the heat rising in his face, a mix of nerves, and the pressure of trying to avoid any slip-ups. “Honestly, it was mostly me dragging him into stuff. Clark was always the one keeping me out of serious trouble.”

Clark chuckled nervously, his eyes darting between Y/N and Lois. “Yeah, Y/N was always the adventurous one. I was just along for the ride.”

Jimmy, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t know, Lois. I think Clark’s just good at covering his tracks. Bet he’s got a whole secret rebellious side we don’t know about.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at Jimmy’s words, the irony of the statement not lost on him. If only they knew just how many secrets Clark was hiding—or how many he was keeping himself.

Lois, however, wasn’t so easily deterred. “I don’t doubt it,” she said, her eyes flicking back to Y/N with a knowing smile. “And I bet you’ve got some secrets of your own, Y/N. You seem like the type who’s good at keeping things under wraps.”

Y/N’s smile faltered for just a second before he forced it back into place. “Who doesn’t have a few secrets?” he replied, trying to keep his tone light and nonchalant.

Lois’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer, and Y/N could practically feel her trying to piece together the puzzle she was sure he was hiding. He shifted uncomfortably, desperate to change the subject.

“Anyway,” Y/N said, his voice a bit too loud in his haste to redirect the conversation, “what about you guys? You’ve all been working together for a while now. Any crazy stories from the Daily Planet?”

Clark gave him a grateful smile, clearly relieved at the change in topic. “Oh, you know, it’s mostly just chasing down leads and trying to stay out of trouble ourselves.”

Lois smirked. “Mostly. There have been a few close calls, though. Like that time we were covering that gala and—”

But before she could continue, there was a sudden commotion outside the restaurant. The sound of screeching tires and shouting filled the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of something crashing into a building.

Clark’s expression immediately shifted to one of concern. “I’ll, uh, be right back,” he mumbled, already moving toward the door.

Moments later, Superman was on the scene, and Y/N found himself once again in the midst of a crisis, trying to discreetly use his magic to help those around him. He directed falling debris away from pedestrians, subtly reinforced a crumbling wall, and calmed panicked civilians—all while trying to stay out of Lois’s line of sight.

As Y/N moved through the chaos, he couldn’t help but keep one eye on Lois. She was already pulling out her phone, likely trying to reach out to sources or start documenting the scene for the Daily Planet. But more than once, Y/N caught her glancing his way, her sharp eyes narrowing as if she were trying to figure something out.

It didn’t help that every time Y/N used his magic, Lois seemed to notice something was off. Like when he subtly redirected a falling streetlight away from a group of bystanders, Lois had been nearby and had whipped around, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Y/N standing there, his hand half-raised.

“Where, how did you—” she started, but Y/N cut her off quickly.

“Uh, just lucky timing,” he said, flashing what he hoped was a convincing grin.

Lois didn’t look convinced, but before she could press further, another explosion rocked the area as Superman swooped across the sky in a fight with some new villain. Lois’s attention was immediately drawn away as she dashed off to get closer to the action, leaving Y/N with a brief moment of relief.

But it was short-lived. He could feel the weight of his secret bearing down on him, the fear that at any moment, Lois would start putting the pieces together. She was too perceptive, too determined to uncover the truth, and Y/N was running out of excuses.

Y/N’s heart pounded as he watched Lois dart away, her focus now on Superman’s battle overhead. The city block was in chaos—buildings crumbling, cars overturned, and terrified civilians running for cover. Y/N could feel the familiar tingle of his magic, urging him to act, but he hesitated. He was too exposed, too close to Lois and Jimmy, who were both still in the thick of things, trying to stay safe while getting their story.

But then he saw it—a mother and her young child, trapped beneath a fallen piece of debris, their terrified cries cutting through the noise. Without thinking, Y/N moved. He knew he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Darting through the chaos, he reached the trapped pair, his heart racing. The chunk of concrete pinning them was far too heavy for him to lift on his own, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He pretended to struggle with it for a moment, glancing around to make sure no one was watching too closely. Then, with a whispered incantation, he let his magic flow, lifting the debris just enough for the mother to pull her child to safety.

“Go! Get out of here!” Y/N urged them, and they didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled to their feet and ran, not looking back.

But as Y/N released his grip on the concrete, allowing it to crash back to the ground, he felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He turned just in time to see Lois standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

“Y/N…” she started, her voice barely audible over the sounds of destruction around them. “How did you—”

Before she could finish, a loud crash interrupted her, drawing their attention to the ongoing battle above. Superman was locked in a fierce struggle with the villain, who was wielding some kind of energy weapon that was tearing through the city with reckless abandon.

Lois hesitated for a split second, torn between confronting Y/N and rushing to cover the story. The journalist in her won out, and she turned to run towards the action, but not before shooting Y/N one last look, a promise that this conversation wasn’t over.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, but there was no time to dwell on what Lois had seen. The battle was escalating, and the destruction was growing worse by the second. He knew he had to do more, had to use his magic more openly if he wanted to save lives. The fear of exposure warred with his instinct to help, but his desire to help won out.

As Y/N wove his way through the chaos, he could feel his magic surging within him, responding to his need to act. With each subtle spell, he could feel the pressure mounting, the risk of being discovered growing with every passing moment. But he couldn't stop, not when so many lives were at stake.

As Y/N moved through the chaos, helping people where he could, he lost himself in the urgency of the moment. He pulled a child out of harm's way, extinguished small fires with a flick of his wrist, and used his magic to steady a teetering scaffold that was threatening to collapse onto a group of bystanders. Every action was instinctual, his focus so intense that he didn’t even notice how close he was getting to the epicenter of the danger.

Meanwhile, Superman was engaged in a fierce battle with the villain, their clash sending shockwaves through the city. Clark’s attention was divided, trying to subdue the threat while keeping an eye on his friends below. But in the midst of the fight, he noticed Y/N inching dangerously close to the conflict.

“Y/N, get back!” Superman shouted, his voice strained with panic as he saw Y/N unwittingly step into the path of a collapsing billboard that had been dislodged during the battle.

Time seemed to slow as Clark realized he wouldn’t reach Y/N in time, especially with his opponent actively trying to block his way. His heart pounded in his chest, fear gripping him like a vice. But just as the massive billboard was about to crush him, Y/N’s instincts kicked in.

Without even thinking, Y/N threw up his hands, and a powerful force field erupted around him, deflecting the billboard away and sending it crashing harmlessly to the ground. The magic burst out of him like a tidal wave, raw and unfiltered, saving him in the nick of time.

The impact of what had just happened hit Y/N all at once. He stood there, breathless and trembling, staring at the spot where the billboard had fallen. His heart raced as he realized how close he’d come to being crushed—and how easily he had saved himself with powers.

Superman, who had seen the entire event unfold, hovered in the air, momentarily stunned. His mind raced, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Y/N had powers—real, undeniable powers. And in that instant, a dozen memories from their time together in Smallville flashed through his mind, moments that suddenly made sense in a new, startling way.

The villain took advantage of Superman’s distraction, launching one final attack. But Superman, fueled by a surge of determination, quickly regained focus. With a swift, powerful strike, he knocked the villain off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious and defeated.

The battle was over, but the tension in the air was far from dissipated.

Superman landed softly on the ground, his eyes never leaving Y/N. The adrenaline from the fight was still coursing through him, but now it was mixed with a cocktail of emotions—shock, confusion, and something deeper, something more personal.

Y/N looked up, locking eyes with Superman for the first time. The two of them stood there, surrounded by the remnants of the battle, but it felt as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

“Y/N,” Superman began, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. He took a step forward, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and relief.

Superman took a step toward Y/N, his mind racing with questions, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and urgency.

"Superman," Lois called out, her voice edged with urgency as she glanced around. "We’re in the middle of the street. People are starting to notice."

Jimmy nodded, his camera hanging by his side as he scanned the area. “Yeah, maybe we should take this somewhere a little less… public.”

Superman blinked, realizing the gravity of the situation. There were indeed a few onlookers, phones out, capturing the aftermath of the battle. The last thing he needed was more attention, especially with Y/N’s secret now out in the open.

He turned to Y/N, his eyes filled with both concern and determination. “Y/N, we need to talk. But not here. Do you trust me?”

Y/N, still shaken from everything that had happened, hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I trust you.”

Superman gave him a small, reassuring smile before glancing back at Lois and Jimmy. “I’ll explain everything later, but right now, I need to get Y/N out of here.”

Lois gave a curt nod, understanding the need for discretion. “We’ll cover for you. Just… be careful.”

Jimmy shot Y/N a quick thumbs-up, though his expression was tinged with curiosity and concern. “We’ll handle the crowd. Go.”

With a final nod, Superman wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist, holding him securely. “Hold on tight.”

Before Y/N could fully process what was happening, they were airborne, the ground falling away as Superman lifted them into the sky. The wind rushed past them as they soared above the city, the chaos of the battle below quickly becoming a distant memory.

Y/N clung to Superman, his heart racing not just from the flight but from the whirlwind of emotions and revelations that had just unfolded. He had always admired Superman from afar, but now, being so close, knowing that this was Clark—it was almost too much to take in.

They flew in silence, the cityscape sprawling out beneath them, until finally, Superman began to descend, landing gently on the rooftop of the Daily Planet building. The iconic globe loomed above them, casting long shadows in the setting sun.

Superman set Y/N down carefully, stepping back to give him space. For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them.

Clark, still in his Superman suit but with the familiar warmth of his old friend in his eyes, took a step closer. “I know. It’s a lot to take in. For both of us.”

Y/N nodded, his mind racing with a thousand questions. “So, you're Superman?”

A faint blush along with his nervous smile appeared on his face, a glimpse of the boy Y/N had known. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

A moment of silence passed before Y/N spoke again, "I really don't get how people don't catch on faster. The only visible difference is the glasses," he said, gesturing to the frames on Clark's face.

Clark looked confused for a moment, "Wait, huh? Did you know?"

"Well, not for sure. But I had my suspicions. I mean, the glasses, the timing of your disappearances, the fact that you were never around whenever Superman showed up... it wasn't exactly hard to put the pieces together. But, I didn't know until I saw you up close. Until now, whenever you were Superman, I wasn't close enough to get a good look. Then, you were right in front of me, and well, it was like, 'Oh yeah, that makes complete sense,'" Y/N admitted, rambling a little.

"Oh," was all Clark could manage, a sheepish look on his face.

"Why did you never tell me?" Y/N asked, his voice soft.

Clark sighed, his expression conflicted. "I wanted to, believe me. But it's not exactly something I can just go around telling people. And after everything that happened back in Smallville, I didn't want to put you in any more danger. I guess, we were both keeping secrets."

Y/N paused for a moment, now realizing the irony of the situation before laughing under his breath, "Sneaky little bastard strikes again."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, just a little joke to myself," Y/N explained, before pausing and looking at his friend, taking in his entire superhero appearance, "Wow, looking at you now, and thinking back to everything, everything now makes so much sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you being able to stop cars without getting injured. Or people always calling your parents to ask for you when their tractor was broken down. And that time you and Suzy were playing in Old Man Ferris's field and he almost mowed her over with the shredder but you saved her and broke the shredder in the process. I always thought it was weird, but now, it's obvious," Y/N said, his tone a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

"I mean, it could've just been weak metal," Clark tried to argue, but the blush creeping up his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

"Clark, no offense, but anyone else verse that shredder would've been minced meat. And yet, one run-in with you and it had been totaled with no chance of repair. Which, did he ever get a new one?"

"Yeah, the town all chipped in to get him one while my parents got him insurance on it for a year as an apology."

"Hmm, you know for the amount of weird things that have gone on in that town between you and me alone, you'd think someone would've said something or freaked out," Y/N commented, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well, Smallville is a weird place," Clark chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"That it is," Y/N agreed, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Clark cleared his throat while rubbing the back of his neck, "I guess things also make sense for you too. All those times that lights and power in school went out after you got angry, things disappearing and reappearing in random places, and that one time you got in an argument with a squirrel. Can you talk to animals with your powers?"

"Okay, first of all, we didn't have to bring that specific instance up. You remember everyone made fun of me for like a month after that happened. And either way, that squirrel had it coming," Y/N said, a slight pout on his face.

"It was a squirrel, Y/N."

"And it was a jerk!"

"How was it a jerk?"

"It kept throwing acorns at me and always running at me like it wanted to fight. I can't understand animals naturally unless there's a spell for it that I just haven't figured out, but they do seem to gravitate towards me for whatever reason. But, that squirrel had it out for me since freshman year and I was just trying to defend myself," Y/N argued, his voice taking on a slightly whiny tone.

"By arguing with it?"

"Well, yes," Y/N said, crossing his arms, "But, it was a very heated argument."

"If you say so," Clark laughed, his eyes bright with amusement.

Clark's laughter filled the air, and for a moment, it felt like they were back in Smallville, two friends joking around like they used to. But the reality of their situation quickly settled back in, and the weight of everything that had happened—everything that had been revealed—hung between them.

"So, magic," Clark said after a beat, his tone more serious. "I can't believe you were hiding that all these years."

Y/N shrugged, looking down at his feet. "It wasn't exactly something I could just go around telling people. Especially not in Smallville. I barely understood it myself, and my parents were terrified of what might happen if anyone found out. They were always worried that some government agency would swoop in and take me away if I ever slipped up."

Clark nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I get that. My parents had similar fears about me. We were both trying to protect each other, in our own way."

"Yeah," Y/N agreed quietly. He glanced up at Clark, a hesitant smile on his face. "It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Both of us with these...abilities and we never knew about each other."

Clark smiled back, but there was something in his eyes—something that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. "I wish I had known," Clark said softly. "Maybe things would have been different."

"Maybe," Y/N echoed, the word hanging in the air between them.

A comfortable silence settled over them, the kind that only old friends could share. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the city. Y/N found himself getting lost in the moment, in the quiet presence of his friend, the tension of the past few weeks slowly ebbing away.

But then Clark spoke again, his voice filled with an emotion that Y/N couldn't quite place. "You know, I've always felt like there was something more between us. Even back then."

Y/N's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Clark, his eyes searching his friend's face for any sign that he might be joking, but all he saw was sincerity. "What do you mean?"

Clark hesitated as if trying to find the right words. "I mean... I've always cared about you, Y/N. More than just as a friend."

The confession hung in the air, and Y/N's heart pounded in his chest. He had dreamed of hearing those words for so long, but now that they were here, he didn't know how to respond. His feelings for Clark had been buried deep for years, hidden away to protect both himself and their friendship.

"Clark, I..." Y/N began, but his voice faltered. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I care about you too. A lot. But this—" He gestured to the city below them, to Superman’s suit, to everything around them. "This is complicated. Our lives are so different now."

Clark stepped closer, his expression earnest. "I know it’s complicated. But maybe we can figure it out together."

Y/N looked into Clark's eyes, seeing the hope and the warmth there, and for a moment, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. He thought about all the things they had been through, the secrets they had kept, the bond that had never really broken despite the years and the distance.

He smiled softly, his heart finally settling into a steady rhythm. "I'd like that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Clark's smile was brighter than the sunset behind him, and Y/N felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the fading sunlight. For the first time in a long while, things felt right. Complicated, yes, but right.

But before they could say anything more, the door to the rooftop burst open, and Lois and Jimmy came rushing in, both looking out of breath and a little frantic.

"Clark! Y/N!" Lois called out, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her. "You guys okay? We’ve been looking everywhere for you."

"Yeah, we’re fine," Clark said, quickly stepping back from Y/N, though he couldn’t quite hide the smile on his face.

Jimmy glanced between the two of them, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know, you guys really should be more careful. The paparazzi would have a field day if they caught Superman having a heart-to-heart with some random guy on a rooftop."

Lois rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement. "He's right. We should get off this rooftop before someone spots us."

Clark looked at Y/N, his expression a mix of reluctance and agreement. "Yeah, you're right." He turned back to Y/N, his voice softening. "We'll talk more later, okay?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness about what that conversation would bring. "Yeah, later."

With that, they all made their way back down to the city, where the chaos of the day had finally settled. But even as they stepped back into the world, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had shifted between them.

And for the first time, he was ready to see where it would lead.

☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️