#the voices in my head compelled me to write this

[beachbabey]

ITS 3:33 AND A THOUGHT POPPED INTO MY BRAIN AND I BELIEVE ITS A SIGN FROM GOD

Nick tying you up all prettily with the softest ribbons for Noah to find under the tree

He comes home from a day at the studio and finds you under the tree you all spent the previous day decorating together, your arms, tied in a beautiful, crisscross laddered pattern, keeping them crossed behind your back, the snow white ribbon around your thighs digging into the plush flesh, wrapped in such a way that keeps them spread and pushed against your chest, baring yourself just for him.

With a set of your own panties sat firmly in your mouth, written with your own lipstick, the dark cherry red they both loved, just below your collar bones, in that sleek handwriting that anybody could tell was Nick’s;

‘use me xx’

“Fuck angel" Noah breathes out, tossing his keys and praying they land on the counter, quickly moving over to you, squatting right in front of you. Looking up to him with big doe eyes, waiting in anticipation as he stares, motionless as he drinks you in, his mouth open in a dazed smile, you could practically see his eyes darkening as the grin turns into something more primal, more hungry.

“All this for little old me? You shouldn’t have”

[m0r1bund]

The Warg, Goregon, or Wargonopsid is an endematic creature fabricated by the Endling Cult. Much like their creators, these animals serve a variety of purposes, functioning variously as beasts of burden, hunting hounds, and companion animals.

I describe these animals chiefly to advance Warg husbandry beyond the shores of Earth. This is a common source of misunderstanding between Endling envoys and Imperial diplomats, whose superstitions about the Endeme place them at odds with one another. I also seek to demystify the creature in the eyes of the Archive, which lacks the capacity to study them directly. In so doing, this dossier endeavors to ease certain tensions under the current ceasefire.

Read 'On Wargonopsids' ▶

... goggy (gorgonopsid doggy)

[jeonsweetpea]

Will It Fit?

Roommate!AU | Roommate!Jungkook x Reader

genre: fluff, smut, comedy, lil angst, slight idiots to lovers

rating: explicit

description: So what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he can’t exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom…

word count: 6.7k

warnings: size kink, JK has a big dick (no, really), slight pain kink, light choking, dirty talk, Dom!JK, flustered/shy JK at first, unprotected sex (this is fiction, we all wanna be raw-dogged by JK okay), lube, JK loves OC’s panties a LOT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, OC gets embarrassed at first but JK is sweet about it, oral sex (male & female receiving), cursing, Soft Dom!JK, JK is overly concerned with how big your dildo is, embarrassing moments from both parties, spanking, prone bone, creampie, confession scenes, 

a/n: As soon as I saw JK’s OJO face from that GCF, it kicked me into gear to write this. I’ve had this idea for SO long, but never had the motivation to finish it. I was supposed to release it last winter, so hope you’re all excited for it! Asks and reblogs are much appreciated (I read them all!). Also, much love to @jkeuphoriadreamland for bouncing ideas around with me. 

“[Y/N], I can hear you in there.” 

The muffled, disgruntled voice came from the other side of your door. Your eyes fluttered open and your hand stilled in your panties, your heart rate spiking. Maybe if you didn’t move a muscle, he’d go away. 

“I know you’re up,” he added. You rose up from your bed.

“Um… exactly what did you hear?” you squealed, face burning up at your terrible acting skills.

“Unlock this door.”

You didn't know what compelled you to saunter over and open the door a mere crack, but oh the sight before you was almost worth the humiliation. Jungkook was in nothing but gray sweats that sat dangerously low on his hips. He had a bad case of bedhead, but his locks looked so soft that you wanted nothing more than to grab onto them and make out with his beautiful lips, which were captivating you just as much as that intense gaze of his. 

“Hey… you…” you said with a meek smile, which he did not return.

“It’s 2 AM in the morning. I have work at 5. As hot as you sound, we either do something together so we both get satisfied or you let me get my rest because I am incredibly frustrated right now.”

Your eyes widened at his curt response. You’ve never seen him so tense, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek as his glare bore into you. He leaned against your door frame with one arm, leaning in close enough to make you break eye contact. He tapped on the wooden frame with his index finger, awaiting your response. 

“Sorry…” 

God, you sounded absolutely pathetic . 

“Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?” Before you could respond, he let out a tsk sound and retreated back to his bedroom. You stood there in a trance until his door shut loudly, snapping you out of it. You wondered if he realized how much worse he left you than when he found you. 

Fuck, was he always this hot when mad? 

You went back to your room after closing the door. Climbing into bed, you got under the covers and laid flat on your back deep in thought. The only reason you were masturbating in the first place was because your room was freezing cold. You thought the heater was fixed, but your room was somehow still the coldest one in the apartment. You knew you’d never be able to go to sleep at this rate, so you decided to do something that would tire you out and hopefully lull you into the rest you craved.

It was supposed to be simple. You, your hand, your phone, and sweet, sweet release. Damn Jungkook for interrupting you. It’s bad enough his room was nice and toasty while you were suffering. Yeah, you heard his loudass snores. You assumed he was deep in the REM cycle so how the hell did he catch your moans? Ugh.

If he was so annoyed with you, then he should have warmed you up instead!

You shook your head and got under the covers, groaning at your lewd thoughts. 

He’s my roommate. And he’s too good of a roommate for me to fuck things up. 

“Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?”

Those words echoed in your mind. The way he changed his tone to a lower register with his Busan dialect slipping through was incredibly sexy. It was the perfect mix of frustration and anger and made your thighs rub together in want. Leaning over your nightstand, you opened the drawer and grabbed a velvet drawstring bag. Slipping off your pajama shorts, you pulled out your trusty dildo. Impatient, you closed your eyes and imagined Jungkook taking you right then and there. However, the moment you allowed the tip of the dildo to touch your entrance, all pleasure was lost. It was cold!

“Damn it…” you muttered. “I gotta warm it up. Ugh!”

You left your room in frustration and entered the bathroom, turning the sink on to the hottest setting and running it over your toy. 

This might’ve been the most desperate masturbation session you’ve ever had, but you didn’t care. This was all Jungkook’s fault!

The next morning was Saturday. You were eating your breakfast on the kitchen island while mindlessly scrolling on your phone when Jungkook came out of his room. As soon as you two locked eyes, you almost choked on your food and had to chug some water to calm down. The man, confused, ruffled his hair and watched you through drowsy eyes.

“Are you okay?” he said, followed by a yawn. 

You nodded as you beat your chest with your fist to get everything down. “Yeah… I just… didn’t expect you to be home. I thought you had work.”

“Oh,” He sounded more awake now. “I read my schedule wrong. Turns out I’m off every other Saturday now.”

“... Oh. Cool.”

He circled around the kitchen island to get to the fridge and you recalled last night’s events, mortified he had heard you. Should you apologize again? After all, you’re both two grown adults; there’s nothing to be ashamed about. If you didn’t say something now, that icky feeling would only fester inside you. 

“Hey Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” he said from behind the fridge door.

“About yesterday… I hope you can forget all about it.”

As the refrigerator door shut, you were greeted by the sight of the most adorable man sipping a carton of banana milk. His eyes were wide and brimming with curiosity from your words. 

“Did something happen yesterday? I was knocked out.”

You blinked at him twice. “Do you… not remember talking to me last night?”

“Hmm? I did? I was fast asleep, don’t remember a thing.” He took the seat next to you. “Why? What did we talk about?”

Pure relief washed over you like a tidal wave as you shook your head. “Oh, nothing much. My room’s a bit too cold. It was hard for me to sleep.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to the landlord. Do you want to sleep with me?” You shot him an incredulous look and he began to stutter. “I-I mean! Sleep in my bed! Not with me in it. Unless you wanted to—ah—fuck me!

There. That’s the Jungkook you knew. He’s never crossed the line and flirted with you, so you didn’t either out of respect. But… It was too hard to resist teasing him. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Unless I wanted to… fuck you?” you repeated innocently. This was new territory for you—teasing him. His flustered reactions were so damn adorable though. The way his nose scrunched and his eyes darted around everywhere except for your face. If anyone was watching you, they’d swore you had hearts in your eyes. 

He set his drink down and proceeded to cover his face with both hands, panicking at his poor choice of words. “That didn’t come out right. Oh god… this is embarrassing.”

You covered your mouth to stifle your giggles. “It’s okay. I don’t want to peg you—I mean, take your bed.”

Jungkook dropped his hands, speaking the next sentence in pouts. “Hey, I don’t want to be peg—not the point. No, seriously. My room’s really warm.”

“I mean… if you really want me in your room, all you have to do is ask, you know,” you remarked. Jungkook’s cheeks were flushed with a tinge of pink, adding an extra charming element to his already cute self. Were you being too bold? 

It didn’t matter because seeing how his lips trembled and how he could barely hold himself together was fun to watch.

“I didn’t realize it was that easy…” he mumbled, more to himself than you. You tilted your head at him and he noticed how you crossed one arm over another “Not that I’m calling you easy!”

“Uh huh. I’m watching you, Jeon Jungkook. Hmph.”

“No, wait. I’m sorry.”

You placed your index finger on his lips to shush him, even going so far as to tap his lip piercing teasingly. “Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?” 

You watched as his eyes widened once more and that caused you to realize what you were doing. My god. Using his own words against him was satisfying, but all this newfound confidence was going to get you in trouble. You cleared your throat and withdrew your hand, grabbing your breakfast plate and heading over to the sink before things could escalate.

“Uh… I’m gonna go to the gym. Run some errands or something,” Jungkook stammered as he got up, nearly toppling out of his stool. You bit your lip to hold in your laughter as he recomposed himself. Walking in the same direction, he flinched when you got near his proximity. “W-What are you doing?”

He’s so cute when nervous.

“Nothing. Grabbing my keys. I’m heading out too.”

“O-Okay.”

Your smile made his heart rate escalate. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

You spent the day with your closest friends on a brunch date, followed by a trip to the mall, and then hot cocoa in the evening. It was much needed after the week you had and after bidding them farewell, you went back to your apartment. Upon entering, you took off your shoes and put them on the shoe rack.

“Jungkook? Are you home?” you called out. 

“Yeah! I just finished showering!” he called back in the distance. You went further into the apartment and plopped down on the couch. 

“Damn,” you muttered, rubbing your arms. “Wish I could have showered with him. It’s so cold outside…”

As if on cue, Jungkook called for you again. “[Y/N]? Could you come here?”

You took off your purse and slowly rose up from the couch, hesitant. This had to be a dream. Why would he need you to come to the bathroom? He must’ve forgotten a towel. Or a t-shirt. Or pants. The specifics didn’t really matter because your hormones were going berserk at the possibilities. 

You walked through the narrow hallway and stood in front of the bathroom door, excited at the thought of teasing him again. “I’m here. What’s up? Did you forget your towel or something? Silly boy.”

The door swung open and the shit-eating grin you had on your face dropped to the floor in an instant. 

“Why is there a dildo in the bathroom, silly girl?”

Shit. Quick, say something. Anything. Don’t just stand there like a gaping fish! Oh dear, how many seconds have passed? You must look like a total idiot.

Fuck! I forgot I left it here!!!

“Well…” you started to say, “I’m assuming it’s yours.”

Out of all the things your roommate could be calling you for, this was not on your radar. The awkwardness was more suffocating than the steam from his blazing hot shower minutes ago and you wished it lingered around long enough to make you disappear. 

Jungkook made a puckered face at your accusation, picked up the object, and shook it side to side, the bendy silicone material flopping everywhere. His big doe eyes were the highlight of his classic OJO face, the blatant confusion so adorable if you weren’t absolutely mortified. For the second time this week. 

God, and how could you even focus when he was dressed in nothing but a towel, his hair still slightly damp. The bulging muscles of his biceps were a feast for the eyes as well as his tattooed sleeve. You yearned for the day he’d use his arm as your necklace, but of course that shouldn’t be a priority at the moment. If anything, it was his fault you had to use a dildo anyway.

“[Y/N], you know damn well this isn’t mine.” He met your gaze and flashed you a soft smile, biting his lower lip. “I like mine bigger.”

You covered your face in shame, wishing the floor could open up and swallow you whole. “Good god, Jeon.”

“You still didn’t answer my question. Why is it in the bathroom?”

You gulped, finding enough strength to not die of embarrassment. “It’s getting colder outside and the heater doesn’t reach my room as well as it reaches yours. So…”

“Yeah…? But I’m not following.”

“The… thing in your hand—”

“Dildo?”

You visibly cringed. “Yes, okay, THAT. It got cold and I don’t like cold objects... Inside me. So I took it to the bathroom to run hot water on it to warm it up.”

“Before you use it?”

“No, to melt it. Yes, to use it!” you snapped, feeling the humiliation burning through your body. “I wasn’t aware you weren’t working today, remember? I clean it after each use so please just give it back!”

You ran over to yank it out of his hands, but he lifted it up high out of your reach. While cackling. That motherfucker. “Hey, maybe I want a turn.”

You had to bite back. “I knew you liked being pegged.”

“I do not!”

“Then give it back!”

“This thing is huge though. It fits?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now.” You jumped up but failed to reach it due to his quick reflexes. 

“Doesn’t it hurt? Because if something this big went up my—”

“Jungkook!”

“I’m just saying!” he said with his arms up in the air like you were about to tase him. “I find it hard to believe, that’s all. It’s really big. Like damn.”

Without thinking, you ripped his towel off his waist and he gasped, scrambling to shield his privates while you seized the opportunity to get your toy back.

You stormed out of the bathroom and ran to your room, locking the door afterwards. Falling to your knees, the embarrassment caught up to you, causing you to hang your head low in shame. You could hear the soft shuffling sounds of his footsteps approaching your door, followed by a gentle knock.

“[Y/N]? Are you okay?” He pressed his ear against the door to hear small sniffles. “Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you upset. I was teasing, I thought you wanted to tease me back and—I guess I took it too far.”

“Go away, Jeon,” you said, throwing the dildo at the door. Jungkook nearly had a heart attack at the loud thump and jolted back, clutching his chest. 

“Holy shit, that scared me,” he said, which earned a small chuckle from you despite the tears. “Hey… come on out. Please. I’m not judging you.”

“No. I’m humiliated. You heard me yesterday and now caught me today. I can’t face you ever again. It’s over!”

He placed a hand on your door, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I didn’t even know we started, so how could we be over? You’re cute.”

That made you snap your head up. You quickly wiped away your tears and rose from the floor. “This isn’t fair… I’ve been embarrassed twice now.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“You heard me masturbating yesterday!” you exclaimed, frustrated at his obliviousness. “You woke up and told me I had pretty lips or whatever and suggested we do something about it together!”

“I mean, you do have pretty lips. Yup. That sounds like me, yeah,” he said, nodding to himself. “But I really don’t remember. Come on out. I wanna see you.”

“No.”

“Would it help if I shared something embarrassing about me?”

You narrowed your eyes at the door, considering his offer. “... Go on…”

He sighed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Well… you know how I’ve been doing your laundry for you?” 

“Yeah…”

It was your most hated chore. Putting the clothes into the washer and dryer wasn’t your issue, but folding them was so tedious. So you and him made a deal. You were in charge of dishes and he would do the laundry. However, the one thing you refused to let Jungkook wash for you were your bras and panties. Those you handled yourself.

“You… left a pair of panties in my basket once by mistake.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. I washed them for you but um… before that, I might’ve… sort’ve… jerked off with them.”

Your doorknob jostled for a second as you unlocked it. Jungkook waited as the door swung open and was greeted by a displeased you, hands on your hips and all.  

“What? They were really pretty…” he added. “They were pink and had lace—”

“You… PERVERT!” you shouted, hitting his chest repeatedly. Of course, you were aware your feeble punches did nothing to his insanely toned pecs. Jungkook stared at you fondly, catching the hint of a smile that threatened to spill from your lips. 

“Oh, I’m a pervert? Says the girl who has an 8-inch dildo,” he countered, snatching both your wrists. 

“At least I’m able to take 8-inches!” you retorted, laughing at the situation. He joined in your laughter and then said,

“Good! That means you’ll be able to handle me!”

Your brain fizzled out at this point as the laughter subsided. “... What?”

Jungkook’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped. “... You heard me. Go ahead, take off my towel again. See for yourself.”

He guided your hands downward to the soft fabric, which was already on the verge of unraveling itself with his prior movements. You stared at his pelvic lines, excitement bubbling beneath the surface while you tried your best to maintain a calm expression. 

“... Pervert,” you mumbled. Jungkook chuckled, taking one of your hands and placing it directly on his boner. 

“Maybe. But only you can make me feel this way.”

You bit your lip, feeling the heat radiating from beneath the fabric and your curiosity peaked. Tucking a finger into the towel, you pulled it down and let it fall to the ground. 

A loud squeal came from your lips as you covered your mouth. “Holy shit!”

Jungkook covered himself after seeing your reaction with both hands, embarrassment crawling up his spine. “Sorry, I’ll put it away.”

“No, no, no!” you said, putting your hands out in a stop motion. “Sorry, I just… you… you weren’t kidding.”

“Does it scare you?” His tone was sincere, his eyes genuinely showing concern. “Because… I don’t want to hurt you. And I know it can hurt. That’s why I was so curious about the dildo. Will it fit? Will I fit…?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how he phrased it, but quickly stopped when you noticed the fear in his eyes. Your thoughts wandered to if he had slept with someone prior and if it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Truth be told, you’ve never been with anyone as big as him so it’s all new for you.

“Well… if I’m prepared well enough, I can take it. The dildo fits but sometimes not all of it goes in. Um… man, this is embarrassing to talk about, ahhh. I feel like I keep making a fool of myself in front of you.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened at your vulnerability, taking your hand and placing it on his chest. His heart was beating just as rapidly as yours if not more. Then he put his other hand on the small of your back, pulling you close. 

“That makes two of us. But you make me crazy.”

He was so close that your senses were intoxicated with the fresh scent of eucalyptus and cotton wafting off him. His eyes shifted to your lips for a split second before meeting your gaze once more. 

“I really want to kiss these pretty lips of yours… If you’ll let me,” he said, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb and whispering the last part.

You begged him to kiss you already, so he leaned in and finally pressed his warm lips against yours as you closed your eyes. It started off as a gentle smooch, like a little tease to test the waters. When he pulled back, you leaned forward and chased his lips urgently. You felt him smiling into the kiss as he moved in tandem with you, deepening the kiss while switching positions to press you against a wall. One of his hands pinned your wrists above your head while his free hand slithered down the side of your body until it rested on your hip, giving you a firm squeeze.

“Jung—mmph—Jungkook…” you moaned. He used that chance to ease his tongue into your mouth and the kiss went from passionate to messy. When you moved your wrists in the slightest, he asserted dominance and pinned them back down into place. 

“You think I’m going to let you go so easily now that I have you?” he asked, the hunger in his voice evident. He carefully tugged your bottom lip in between his teeth and pulled it back in a seductive motion, which turned you on even more. 

Once he broke the kiss, the only thing that remained was a string of saliva that broke seconds later.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he said in between pants.

“Since you’ve jerked off to my panties?” you teased while catching your breath.

He rolled his eyes. “Like you’ve never rubbed one out to me before.”

You scrunched up your nose at his response, unable to counteract his statement right away. “Hey… I wouldn’t have had to rub one out if you warmed me up in this cold weather.”

He smirked. “All you had to do was ask, you know.”

Releasing your hands, Jungkook went into your room and grabbed the dildo off the floor. He left you for a short moment and you waited there, confused, until you heard the sound of running water. He came back a minute later and then grabbed your hand, leading you to his bedroom.

“Had to wash it. Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up properly for the real thing.”

He guided you to his bed and helped you remove your jacket, blouse, and leggings. His grin was extra toothy because the set you were wearing was the exact set he jerked off too before. 

“What?” you asked, amused.

“N-Nothing.”

When your back was turned for a second, he mouthed the words ‘Oh my god’ and pressed his hands together as if thanking the universe for this very moment.

Now left in your bra and panties, you laid on his bed and he climbed on top of you, his lips latching onto the side of your neck. You mewled at the sizzling contact, pulling him close by his soft locks so that his hot skin was pressed against yours. He trailed his searing kisses down to your collarbone and then settled between the valley of your breasts. 

“The bra is pretty… you’re so pretty,” he said, full of admiration. He pulled one of the cups down to gain access to your breasts, capturing your perky nipple between his lips. He sucked tenderly, swirling his tongue around before tugging on it hard enough to elicit a moan. His other hand was greedy, slithering into your already soaked panties. His middle finger dipped in between your folds and he rubbed in circular motions to coax some more slick out of you. 

As you arched your back and moaned his name, he dipped one finger into you and began to pump it slowly. He added another one when you begged for it, sounding so desperate that he had to oblige. 

“Please fuck me already. I can’t take it,” you breathed. Jungkook only curled his fingers deeper inside, grazing your sweet spot while shaking his head. 

“Patience, beautiful. I need to make sure your sweet pussy can take it, remember? Gotta prep you well.”

“But I can take it, I can, oh god please.” 

“If you’re a good girl for me. Can you take another finger?”

You nodded eagerly, so he added a third finger and you squeezed your eyes shut from the delicious burn. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, observing your expressions carefully. You clutched onto the pillow and panted heavily. 

“Y-Yeah, I—god—your fingers feel good…”

He began to finger you with all three digits, the tightness of your walls bringing some resistance to his actions. But with a few more neck kisses to relax you, it became easier and you became more undone. 

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered into your ear, his heavy breath tickling it. He finally removed his fingers and grabbed the dildo at the end of the bed, bringing up to your lips. 

“Show me what those pretty lips of yours can do.”

You stuck out your tongue and licked a long stripe on the toy in a tantalizing slow motion, causing Jungkook to grunt. That damn smile of yours was going to kill him. You were the perfect minx—sweet and naughty. He didn’t have to tell you to suck it because you already were. 

“Such a good girl. You’re going to handle my cock so well.”

He removed the dildo out of your mouth and reached into his nightstand to pull out a bottle of lube. You stared at it like it was foreign to you and Jungkook was quick to notice.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it. I know it.”

He chuckled, admiring your determination. “Still, I want to take my time.  Besides… it’s not every day I get to fuck someone so beautiful.”

He popped open the cap and squeezed a decent amount of lube onto the toy. Then he got back in between your legs and slowly began to insert it into you. You squirmed from the slippery, cold contact but Jungkook captured your lips into a deep kiss, igniting your body with fervor. 

He thrusted the dildo as deep as he could, stopping when there was resistance from your panties. Which you were more than thankful for because you already felt full. But then he began to pump it in and out of you at a steady pace, only accelerating when your moans became more constant. 

“Shit, shit,that feels so—“ Your words were swallowed by his lips and that stirred something within you, allowing Jungkook to easily glide the toy back and forth. He soon increased his speed, the obscene sounds your pussy was making the only thing that could be heard in the room. 

You broke away from the kiss and began tearing up from the intensity. 

“J-Jungkook, I think—“

You couldn’t, actually. Your orgasm crept up on you and made your entire body convulse. You shut your eyes to only see white, your ears were ringing, and your pussy surrendered to the pleasure. 

Jungkook removed the toy out of you gently and then kissed your sweaty forehead, giving you a bunny-tooth smile as you calmed down from your high. 

“Did you cum?”

You smacked his arm playfully. “Did I cum… pfft. No, actually. I’m waiting for a real man to make me cum. With a fat cock.”

“Well not to toot my own horn but…” He grinded his swollen cock against your thigh. “I think I meet the requirements.”

Now that things slowed down, this was the first time you really got to look at his cock properly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to prep you. It was as big as your dildo but much more girthier. It was a mouth-watering sight. 

Flipping the switch, you got on top of Jungkook this time. His eyes widened in surprise but then eased into a smile. You leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Let me take care of you now.”

“But I want to fuck you so bad.”

“You can wait, darling. My pussy is yours.”

His dick twitched at that. You giggled as you got in between his thighs, stroking his member a few times to hear those cute, breathy moans of his. 

Will it fit…? God, I hope so.

“Are you afraid you can’t take it?” Jungkook asked with concern. Shit. Did you say that out loud???

“I can. I will.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t—“

“Jungkook,” you said, squeezing his dick tightly, almost like a warning. “I can take it like a good girl. And if not, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

He closed his eyes and nodded as you began to suck him off. There was no way you could take all of him in your mouth but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try. You went as far as you could and stopped when your gag reflex kicked in. Using your hand to stroke the area you couldn’t reach, you swirled your tongue and bobbed your head up and down. 

Jungkook’s abs clenched and unclenched at the action and he rested on his elbows to watch you. The way your bra cupped your breasts at this angle was enticing, your pretty lips working so hard to please him, and the view of your ass in those panties could make him cum right then and there. 

“Fuck, you’re so good at this—don’t stop.”

You smiled at the praise and continued, loving how he took a sharp inhale of breath when you cupped his balls. He put his hand on your head and pushed you down gently, not wanting to overdo it with his size. You controlled the pace, but he just wanted to touch you and admire you. 

“You’re too good to me…” 

You released his dick with a satisfying pop sound, kissing the tip and smiling. “Teach me what you like.”

“I love everything you do,” he said, grunting when you began stroking him again from the base to the tip. “Your hands are so much softer than mine.”

You stopped momentarily to spit on your hand before resuming your lewd actions and he threw his head back. 

“Fuck [Y/N]. That’s so hot.”

“Yeah? Have I been a good girl? Are you going to reward me?” He snatched your wrist, his eyes darkened and full of lust. 

“Can you handle it?”

You turned around on all fours, shaking your ass side to side to tempt him. “Take me, baby. Raw.”

His OJO face returned from your bold suggestion and you flashed him a wink. 

“I’m on the pill. Promise,” you informed. 

A burst of energy surged within him as he grabbed the bottle of lube and hurriedly squeezed some onto his cock. You giggled when he squirted a bit too much, haphazardly trying to divide it between two hands and spreading it evenly. But things turned serious when he grabbed your hips, yanking you closer to him.

He pulled your panties to the side and ate you out from behind first, loving how delicious your backside looked with them on. You moaned in delight and he placed a hand on your upper back, forcing your face down into the mattress. His tongue dipped into your folds and he flicked it on your clit a few times, loving the whiny sounds you were making. Then he pressed his entire mouth onto your pussy and sucked hard. 

You were overwhelmed with pleasure and were on the verge of cumming when he removed his mouth and replaced it with something else.

“Are you ready?” He teased his tip at your leaking entrance and you shuddered. 

“Yes, please fuck me.”

“Breathe baby. Relax as much as you can.”

You obeyed, feeling him push himself into you smoothly, knowing he prepped you more than enough. At least, that’s what you thought until he got in halfway. From there on, it felt like he was invading your walls and stretching you to new limits. 

There was a mild discomfort and Jungkook kissed your back lovingly to relax your tense muscles. You sighed and allowed him to bottom out, feeling the wind knock out of you when he did. 

“God!” you shouted, fisting his bedsheets. 

“F-Fuck… you feel amazing I—can I move? Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt… I just feel really full.”

“Okay,” he said in a restrained voice. “I’ll go slow.”

He gripped your hips tightly, like he needed something else to focus on or else he’d lose control and fuck the living daylights out of you. He eased himself out of you but only half way, wanting to savor your warmth a bit longer. Then he pushed himself back into you, making sure to go as slow as possible.

“Your ass looks amazing in these. You should wear them again.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought of doing this with him again. “Maybe if you spank me.”

He stilled his hips. “You really want me to?”

You began rocking your ass back and forth on his cock. “Yeah. I���m not that fragile… I can take it rough when I want to.” You swore you felt his cock twitch at this. “Hmm, looks like that excited you. You wanna fuck me rough, Jeon?”

He delivered a spank on your cheek, the sensation sending waves of pain and pleasure through your body. Your pussy tightened from this and it made Jungkook hiss. He spanked the other cheek and then both cheeks and you moaned, the slight pain distracting you from the girth of his big cock. 

“You think you’re in a position to be a brat?” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you up so you were on all fours again. Laying on top of your back, he whispered in your ear, “Do you know how badly I want to fucking ruin you?”

He bit the shell of your ear and you let out a content sigh as he slowly thrusted in and out of you. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he reminded you. “But god, you feel so good. So tight. So slippery and wet. I just wanna have my way with you.”

You couldn’t wait anymore. “Please do. Make my pussy remember the shape of your cock. It’s yours to wreck.”

Jungkook got off your back and grabbed a nice fistful of your hair into a makeshift ponytail, forcing your head up as he thrusted into you to the hilt. That feeling of being full hit you full force and you submitted, letting him rock his hips back and forth to the pace he deemed fit. He undid your bra with his free hand, letting the undergarment fall onto the bed as he cupped one breast.

Your moans came out unashamed and full of whiny desperation. The intensity was becoming too much, but it felt too good to stop. There was no more discomfort, only lust and the desire to be fucked so hard that it had your eyes rolling. And Jungkook was more than willing to deliver.

He then grabbed a nearby pillow and placed it under your stomach, pushing your back down until you laid flat. 

“I’m not sure, but I read this makes things feel better on Reddit,” he explained quickly as he helped remove your panties. “But let me know if you want me to stop.”

You’re smitten by the fact he cared this much about you but also trying hard not to laugh at how he admitted to going to Reddit for sex advice. He was too precious.

“I will.”

With your ass propped up higher thanks to the elevation of the pillow, Jungkook eased into you once more and you bit into your pillow. He started to slam his hips into you, gripping onto the headboard to steady himself. 

“Fuck!” you said through gritted teeth. 

“Am I going too fast?” he breathed, slowing down his thrusts.

“No, it’s okay. I want it. I want you.”

Your words unleashed his primal urges to finally give it to you. He shoved his cock deep inside you, each thrust making your ass jiggle, the sight so unbelievably sexy that he had to spank you again.

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me harder!” you shouted. Jungkook laid on top of you, wrapping his bicep around your neck and planted a kiss on your cheek as he fucked you harder. You begged him to choke you and he obliged, squeezing your neck just enough to make you slightly dizzy. 

It was euphoric having that slight danger while being used for his pleasure. Your pussy tightened so much that Jungkook felt he was going to cum. 

He slowed the roll of his hips and then pulled out, quickly flipping you onto your back. Thanks to the pillow from earlier, your hips were propped up at the perfect height. 

“Spread your legs for me. Wider. Hold them open.”

You were so drunk on lust that you did everything he asked. He held onto your thighs and inserted his cock into you again, the new angle making your moans come out strangulated. He was so huge, you swore his tip was brushing against your cervix. Picking up the pace gradually, you took the abuse of his fat cock and screamed at how good it felt. 

“I can’t get enough of you,” Jungkook said through pants, wrapping a hand around the column of your neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

His hips began to stutter and you felt your pussy growing sore from the stretch. Anymore and you’d be in tears. You wanted to cum too, so you snuck your hand down to your clit and rubbed in circular motions. Jungkook used the last remaining bits of strength to fuck you for a few more minutes, which was more than enough for you to reach your climax. 

Cumming a second time was more painful than the first time due to the over sensitivity. But somehow it was more enjoyable because you had never felt something so intense. Jungkook kept coaxing you with sweet words, promising he was almost finished. 

He rutted into you for the last few seconds, counting 3, 2, 1 before spilling his seed inside you. His body laid on top of yours, the two of you sticky and sweaty but it was comforting just being in his embrace. 

“Jungkook?” 

“Yeah?”

“Get off. We gotta pee.”

He laughed at your serious tone. “I think I need another shower. Care to join me?”

Your roommate literally just fucked your brains out 5 minutes ago. Why were you feeling self-conscious in the shower with him? It didn’t make sense!

With the hot water on, you took a deep breath before feeling a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. 

“Questions, comments, concerns?”

Oh my god, you had to marry this man. “Um… I think I’ll be sore for the next few days.”

“I’m sorry.

“Don’t be. I enjoyed it a lot.”

He turned you around, so that you were facing him. “Enough to do it again?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tonight?”

“W-Well… I mean—“

Look at him fumbling over his words. Adorable. “You’re such a pervert.”

“I can’t help it. You turn me on.”

You covered your chest, feeling shy. “Is that all I’m good for…?”

He immediately understood what you meant. “Of course not. Look at me,” he said while tilting your chin up. “Don’t you know how I feel about you?”

Your lips curled into a smile. “Well I learned today that you jerked off to my panties and you count down before you cum.”

You couldn’t help but explode into laughter at his OJO face when he heard you say that. 

“Hey! I do it to let you know when it’s coming!”

“Yes sir,” you teased with a salute. “I appreciate your punctuality, sir!”

“Oh my god, you’re so cheeky.” He hugged you again and booped his nose into yours. “I like you. You know, when a boy likes a girl and they go out on a date and then—oh shit, I did things backwards.”

You giggled. “I think I prefer it this way. I like you too. I’ve… liked you for a long time.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because! I didn’t want to make things awkward. But I guess things ended up being awkward anyway…”

“Because you were masturbating to me?” 

He had such a proud smile on his face. 

“Whatever! Panty thief!”

“You left them there.”

“You should’ve told me!”

“I did!”

“After you had your fun! You are so—”

He gave you a surprise peck on the cheek to distract you. 

“Awesome?” He smooched you again. And again. You couldn’t help but giggle. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Mmhmm. So… do you want to stay in my room tonight?”

“As long as you warm me up.”

“Oh, for sure. I’m great at that.”

“Because of experience or Reddit?”

There was his OJO face again. “Hey~!”

I truly hope you enjoyed the fic! Thank you for giving my writing a chance. :) Also I have an AO3 if you're more comfortable commenting there. Thanks!

[scarletlizzard]

Inked Desires

Pairing: g!p Natasha x fem! Reader

Tags Minors DNI: smut, Natasha has a dick, also covered in tattoos w/ piercings, buff out of this world, she's hot okay, cunnilingus, handjobish, unprotected sex, breeding yup, alcohol at the beginning

A/N: I'm cheating and putting these two requests together, oops! This is my first time writing something like this, so please be gentle. Also, would really love some feedback on this so I know for the future to either write more like this or just tell me to stop now. Thanks so much for reading and thanks for the requests!! 🩵

Masterlist

~~~

"Here, take this!" Your friend says over the loud music, handing you another cup half filled with a mixture of liquor.

You don't question her and take the cup from her, drinking it down in only two gulps. Kate laughs and cheers as you do, doing the same with the cup she held.

By now, you were a few drinks in, and the house Kate had dragged you to was full of people. This definitely wasn't your type of scene, but as you danced among the bodies in the lowlit living room, you couldn't help but feel grateful she had.

As your hips move against your friend, she leans over to your ear. "She's staring at you again," Kate laughs, and your eyes move to the corner of the room.

There was the stranger of the night, a tall woman who stood out, whose green eyes had been watching your every move since you walked in the door. Her muscular arms were covered with art of all kinds, disappearing up into the sleeves of her shirt. She brought her red cup to her lips again, her face mostly hidden from the light.

Instead of replying, you only continue to dance, this time keeping eye contact with your stranger. The woman watches as your hips sway, your hands traveling your own body as you move to the music. It doesn't take long after that before she's finally striding across the room, standing a head taller than most of the crowd.

When she reaches you, you can finally see the rest of her gorgeous face. Above her sprightly green eyes, you noticed a piercing on her eyebrow, a few on her nose, and one on the bottom lip of the smirk she gave you. As she stands in front of you, you literally have to look up at her, and you realize she was much more toned up close.

"I'm just gonna grab another drink!" Kate raises her voice above the music for the two of you to hear.

"I'll catch up with you later!" You shout back to which she only laughs and shoots you a "Yeah, right," before walking off.

You turn your attention back to the stranger.

"Hi," she smiles.

"Hi," you reply curiously.

"I haven't seen you here before. What's your name?" She asks. Her eyes shamelessly roam the soft features of your face and the curves of your body.

"Y/N... this is my first time here. What's yours?" You ask with a blush on your cheeks. She tucks back her red hair behind one of her ears, revealing to you even more piercings.

You don't know if it's the alcohol or the feeling the stranger ignited in your chest, but you feel compelled to step forward and rest your hand on her muscular bicep. Your finger traces the tattoos that littered the skin there.

"Natasha," she says with a smile. "Wanna go upstairs?" A cock of her eyebrow with the piercing sticking out is enough to get you wet.

***

As soon as the door closes, the two of you are on each other, kissing feverishly. Her hands are under your shirt, touching your skin as she lifts you against the door. Your legs wrap around her hips, and you smile against her lips at how easily she lifted you. She was strong. You could feel her muscles under her tight shirt, squeezing you impossibly close.

But when her tongue slips past your lips, you gasp and pull away, a string of saliva pulling between your mouths.

"What's wrong? Do you need to stop?" She asks with a concerned expression. You look at her with wide eyes.

"No - no, I'm fine, it's just. Is your tongue...?" You didn't know how to ask. She chuckles and ducks her head before looking back at you. Natasha lets her tongue slide across her top lip, and it's then your suspicions are confirmed.

"Split, and yes... it will feel better," Natasha says in a cocky tone, her lips attaching to your neck as she carries you to the bed. You feel your back hit the soft mattress, and she lets go of you to remove your shirt.

"I want to see them all," you breathe out and run your finger over the skin on her arm. She smiles and pulls back, taking off her shirt to reveal she was completely covered. "They're beautiful..." You let your eyes take in the sight of the art, your hands tracing the dark lines and over the grooves of her abs. Natasha is a God.

As she continues to undress you, she kisses as much skin as she can, her lips soft and wet with every touch. When she gets to your breasts, you feel her tongue spread, taking your nipple between the two halves and sucking it.

"Oh- oh fuck," you moan out, suprised at the unfamiliar feeling and how good it felt. Natasha hums and lays you back, kissing down your stomach. When she spreads your legs she looks at you with hungry eyes, seeing how wet you already were.

"All this for me, baby?" She asks, letting a finger move up and down your wet folds. Your body shivers with anticipation. The way she looked at you, the way she looked, you were willing to let this stranger do absolutely anything to you.

"All for you.." You husk back, watching her split tongue wet her lips again.

Natasha kneels down at the edge of the bed and puts your legs over her shoulders, her hands grip your thighs tightly.

"How fucking lucky am I then?" She smirks up at you before placing soft, teasing kisses on your thighs.

You feel her mouth attach to your clit, and the heat in your stomach burns hotter. She licks up your slit, groaning as she tastes you.

"Fuck you taste so good," Natasha moans and let's her tongue lick up to your clit. She let's the two halves spread and rub against you. The new feeling makes you arch your back, your head thrown against the comforter.

"G-God Nat, that feels so good!" You moan and try to squeeze your thighs, but her grip kept your legs spread as she continued to eat you out. The sounds of her mouth against your wet pussy were the most sinful sounds you had ever heard, and the moans leaving your mouth were sounds nobody had ever elicited from you before.

She groans against you, the vibrations causing even more pleasure. "That's it baby," she says in between licks, "Want you to cum all over my face." Natashas tongue moves in two different ways, the coil in your lower stomach twisting up.

Your hands grip the comforter as she moves quicker, and the coil begins to unravel as you come undone

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," your back arches again and your legs tremble around her head as you let out a pornographic moan. Natasha hums agaisnt you as you come, her hands not flinching to hold your thighs apart.

She licks every drop, her tongue swirling around your sensative clit one more time before she lets go and stands up. "Come here," Natasha commands, and with a dizzy mind you sit up, trying to catch your breath. She bends down to take your jaw, kissing you rough and sloppily. You forces you to taste yourself, and her tongue pushes in your mouth, wrapping around your own tongue.

You can smell your own arousal on her face, feeling it wet your nose and lips. You blush, almost embarrassed with how wet this stranger made you.

"Now lets see how well you can ride my cock," Natasha chuckles and pulls back to remove her remaining clothes. Your eyes are settled on her breasts, unable to remove them from the piercings on her nipples. When you can pull yourself away from the sight of the silver metal against pink, you look down to see her remove her underwear. She was hard, painfully hard just from eating you out.

She tosses the boxers in the corner where other random clothes lay, and you gave her a curious look. "It's my room, don't worry. Didn't even know you were in my house, did you, love?" Natasha strides back to the bed and sits with her back against the headboard, pulling you closer to her.

"No, I didn't. I'm sorry... my friend kind of dragged me out tonight," you say with red cheeks, and she kisses you desperately.

"Thank God she did," Nat mumbles against your lips. She lets out a groan as your hand reaches between the two of you to lightly grip her cock, and you could feel how she was already throbbing for you. You begin to move your hand up and down slowly as the kiss turns sloppy, her tongue sliding yours between hers. Natasha revels in the feeling of her in your soft hand, your delicate fingers moving along the veins of erection.

"Shit - that feels so good," she moans into the kiss as your hand movements speed up. Your thumb swipes across the tip, precum dripping out already. You smile at the low moan that leaves her lips and continue to jerk her as you kiss. "I need you, please. Fuck I need to be inside you," she begs, and the sound of her begging was something you wanted to hear again. You take her lower lip between your teeth, sucking on the piercing before letting go with a 'pop'.

"I wanna ride you so bad, Nat.. I'm so wet for you," you whisper and let your kisses trail down to her sharp jaw. You feel her cock twitch in your hand as you speak and she grabs your wrist to stop your hand movements, panting as she does.

Natasha turns you around quickly, groaning at the sight of your ass as you straddle her lap and let her hands guide you onto her thick cock. You slide down slowly, letting out a moan when you feel her filling you up.

"Just relax baby, you're so fucking tight," she mumbles as she watches herself slowly disappear inside of you. She let's out a low moan as she feels your hot cunt swallow her, the back of head hitting the headboard when she feels your walls squeezing her. The feeling alone was enough for her mind to sever ties with reality, the only thought was you.

The sensation has that coil tightening inside of you again. You rest your hands on her toned thighs for support, relishing in the way her muscles flexed underneath your fingertips.

Natashas' hands continue to guide you, and after you had adjusted to her large size, you begin to grind yourself down on her lap.

"Just like that baby, fuck... feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock. You were just made to take me," she groans, her words only driving you to move your hips faster.

Her large hands move to your sides and up your body, groping your skin as she starts to move her hips up to meet yours. The two of you find a rythem together, and soon you find yourself willingly bouncing on her cock. Her hands moved to gather your hair, wrapping it into a fist in her right hand. She tugs on it and pulls your head back, a loud moan leaves your lips at the feeling.

"You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you?" She smirks, tugging your hair again.

"Yes - god, yes, Nat!" You whine as her lips find your neck. She bites down hard on your pulse point, surely leaving a mark, and leaves hot open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

"I know you do, you little slut. Fucking dripping on my cock. You feel how easy I slide in and out of you?" She says and with her left hand she grabs your jaw. "Answer me."

"I'm so wet, you make me so wet," you whine again, feeling her fingers move between your teeth. You suck hard as you look in her eyes, your tongue swirling around spit dripping down your chin. When you bite down, it surprises her, but she only chuckles darkly.

In a second, Natasha had let go of your hair and pushed you down face first onto the mattress. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, but soon after, she's lifting your hips and sliding into you again. Both of you moan at the feeling of how deep she goes.

"Christ, it doesn't matter how long I fuck you. You're just - so - fucking tight," she grunts in between words, her cock drilling you into oblivion. With every thrust you can hear the bedframe hitting the wall, and you can't help the pitiful noises that leave your mouth.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum," You rasp out. A sharp slap on your ass makes you whimper as you feel it begin to sting.

"No, shit, hold it in," Natasha warns. You feel the pressure of her body move on top of you. The piercings on her breasts rub against your back with each powerful thrust, and her arm moves underneath your neck to hold you tightly.

Natasha grunts in your ear as she pounds into you, letting out a moan when she feels your slick cunt tighten around her length. "I'm almost there, baby. Are you gonna be a good girl and come all over my cock?"

You nod the best you can in her tight grip, only able to get out a "Yes," in between gasps.

"You feel so good, Y/N. You want me to cum inside you? Fuck- I wanna fill up your tight little pussy so bad..." She groans against you and her words send you over the edge.

"Oh god, Nat! Please fill me up, please," you beg her, and just the thought of it is enough to let go. Your orgasm ripples through your body, sending shockwaves of pleasure to your core.

Natasha moans loudly as she feels you coating her cock with your cum, and she can no longer hold back. "Fuck- Y/N!" She groans and you whine as you feel her hot load spurting inside of you, her cock twitching as she slows her movements. "Take every.. last.. drop.." She pants as she thrusts a few more times.

The two of you stay like that for a while, her cock inside you as she stills above you. Your head rests against her arm as you attempt to catch your breath. When she removes herself slowly, and you wince at the soreness and empty feeling. Natasha lays next to you and you turn on your side to face her.

"Hi," she chuckles at the exhausted features on your face.

"You just fucked the life out of me and you're going to say... 'hi' ?" You laugh, suprised to see a blush on the strong womans cheeks as she laughs along with you. Your hand reaches out, resting on her stomach and tracing the lines of her tattoos again.

After the two of you clean yourselves up, you begin to dress yourself, feeling her eyes on you as you pull your shirt over your head.

"You don't have to go, you know. I'm not like that," she says gently, and you look up to see her pulling on a pair of jeans. You smile at her kind demeanor and walk over to her.

"I have to take my friend home," you say and lean up on your toes to kiss her cheek. She has to bend down for you to reach her lips, but she doesn't complain.

"Well, maybe I can take you out sometime," Natasha smirks and rests her hands on your waist. You nod as you look up to her.

"I would love that.." You reply honestly, wanting nothing more than to get to know her and count the endless tattoos that cover her body.

[flowersforbucky]

it's nice to have a friend

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you're having the worst period you've had in a long time. bucky is determined to help you feel better.

author's note: this is a silly and smutty piece that i felt compelled to write when i got my period a few days ago!

warnings/tags: smutty, reader has a period, langauge, use of a vibrator, nipple stimulation, no use of y/n, use of a cbd gummy lol, 18+ only

Approximately every twenty-eight days, you curse the fact that you were born with a uterus and vagina. 

This month, however, you were cursing that fact a bit earlier than expected. Cycle day twenty three, to be exact. 

Your periods never start this early, but as soon as you opened your eyes at six o'clock this morning, you knew what had occured while you were asleep. You could feel the moisture that soaked through your underwear and pajama pants before you could turn on the light to see that your white sheets had been dyed bright crimson beneath where you'd been laying. 

One load of laundry with extra stain remover and as much Pamprin max strength as one can safely take later, you are curled up on the couch of the compound's living room with a cup of coffee and a heating pad turned up so high that you risk first degree burns. 

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you today? We can go to Coney Island another time,” Natasha tries to reason with you once again. 

“I promise I'll be okay here,” you assure her. “These cramps are killing me, I won't be any fun to hang out with today. Go, enjoy yourself. When is the next time that you'll all have a free day and weather this perfect?” You gesture towards the sunshine streaming through the living room windows. 

“If you're sure,” she caves after a few moments of hesitation. “Promise I’ll win you that stuffed panda that you wanted so badly last time.” 

“I am going to hold you to that,” you tell her in a faux-serious tone. 

After Natasha and the rest of your friends have left for their day of riding rollercoasters and eating hotdogs on the boardwalk, you turn on your comfort show and settle in for an unexciting and uncomfortable day by yourself. 

A few hours later, you decide you've sat in the same position for long enough - you can practically feel your body morphing to the sofa. You're walking to the kitchen to refill your water bottle and find something to snack on when you collide with what feels like a brick wall. 

A brick wall that happens to smell really, really fucking good. 

You step back, finding that the brick wall is staring at you with a confused look on his face. 

"What are you doing here?” Bucky asks as he glances you over from head to toe, taking in your choice of apparel - baggy sweats that are about two sizes too big for you, a cropped tank, and fuzzy slippers. You resist the urge to cross your arms over your stomach - you didn't think anyone else would be here today and the tank top you're wearing doesn't exactly conceal the period bloat you're currently experiencing. 

"I live here,” you snap, a bit harsher than necessary. “What are you doing here?” 

“I also live here,” he says, returning your attitude. You roll your eyes, maneuvering your way around where he blocks the doorway. 

“What I mean,” he continues as he turns around, following you into the kitchen. “Is why aren't you with everyone at Coney Island?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” you challenge, pouring some more ice into your cup. “Steve never shuts up about the glory days, all the time the two of you spent at Coney Island. I'm surprised you're not there with him right now.” 

He huffs a laugh, pulling out one of the barstools at the kitchen's giant island and taking a seat. “We did spend a ridiculous amount of time at Coney Island,” he admits, his voice almost wistful. He hesitates before continuing, staring down at his hands as he traces a metal crevice on his left palm.

"But I haven't been to Coney Island since the forties. Guess I'm kinda scared it won't live up to my memories of it. Plus, I had a lot of laundry to catch up on, so..” he shrugs, trailing off. 

You're taken aback by the honesty of his explanation. “Yeah, well,” you start awkwardly, turning away from him to search through a cabinet for something to eat. “I can't say that I know what it was like in the forties, but it's one of my favorite places, present day.” 

“Then why are you hanging out by yourself while all of your friends are at one of your favorite places?” 

Damn it, you curse internally. He's really not going to drop this. What should I say, that my uterine lining is falling out in clumps? 

You grab a bag of freeze-dried fruit from the cabinet before turning back to face him, trying to come up with an excuse. 

“I just didn't sleep great–” you come to an abrupt stop in the middle of your sentence as a blinding pain shoots through your lower abdomen. The bag of fruit falls to the floor as you steady yourself on the ledge of the counter with one hand, clutching your stomach with the other. 

Bucky rises from his seat in an instant, closing the several feet of distance between the two of you in one big step. 

"Are you okay? What’s going on?” His hands are both extended to you in an offer of help. 

“I'm fine,” you say through a sharp intake of breath. “It’s.. it’s just cramps. Bad cramps,” you force the words out, propping your elbows up on the countertop to relax your body weight. 

“Oh,” he says as realization dawns on him. He bends down to grab the bag of fruit that lays next to your feet, and then places it on the table in front of you. “I guess that answers my question, then,” he adds, referring to why you didn't go to Coney Island. 

“Ya think?” You stand back upright, grabbing your snack and water bottle off of the counter. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a busy day of bed-rotting ahead of me.” 

“Some exercise would help,” he calls when you're about to exit the kitchen. “Laying in bed won't do much for you. A little bit of light exercise to release some beta-endorphins, maybe an abdominal massage–” 

“Are you really man-splaining menstrual cycle pain management to me right now?” You ask, slowly turning to face him with an incredulous look on your face. “I wasn't aware that you had a medical license or that I asked for your opinion.” 

“Just trying to help, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a mischievous grin. 

“If you want to help, you can go get the Italian food that I'm craving and give me an abdominal massage yourself,” you practically spit at him. “Otherwise, keep the unsolicited advice to yourself and fuck off.” 

You turn back around and all but run out of the room before you can process the shocked, albeit pleased look on his face.  

After you've closed your bedroom door behind you (with perhaps a bit more force than necessary), you sink into the fresh sheets on your bed and shove several pieces of apricot into your mouth. 

Rationally, you knew that Bucky's advice was solid, and that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. That's just the kind of friendship that the two of you have. Sarcastic, teasing and occasionally… tension-filled. 

You definitely didn't help the matter by telling him to massage your abdomen, but what does he expect when he suggests something as horrible as exercising during a time that you simply want nothing more than to melt into your mattress? 

Your cell phone chimes from the pocket of your sweatpants. You dig it out and look at the text displayed across your lock screen. 

Bucky Barnes: What kind of Italian food, specifically? 

You would never admit it to him, but the corners of your mouth tug upwards into a smirk as you read his message. 

You type: Don't you have a lot of laundry to catch up on? and press send. The message is marked as “read” right away. 

He types. And types. And types some more – until those three dots indicating a message in progress disappear. 

Whatever. You click your phone off and toss it somewhere in the covers around you. 

The next couple hours are spent sitting under the near scalding stream of your shower, and then reading on your Kindle in the dark. As jealous as you are that your friends are undoubtedly having a blast today, you honestly don't mind your current situation - aside from feeling like your organs are being pulled out of your vagina, you hardly ever have days with zero obligations other than to just relax in whatever way you see fit. 

A strong knock on your door causes you to lose your place on the page. 

"You didn't give me a legitimate answer so I hope you like gnocchi, or eggplant parmesan, or traditional lasagna, or extra breadsticks..” 

“You know, it's not funny to joke about carbs to someone when they are–” 

You come to a stop in the middle of your sentence when you swing your door open to see him holding several plastic bags. An aroma of garlic and herbs hits you in the face. 

Oh. Not a joke, then. 

He extends one of the bags to you with his big, blue puppy dog eyes. You take it from him, opening the door further as an invitation to enter your bedroom. 

"Consider this a peace offering,” he says, placing the other bags of food on your bed and perching awkwardly on the edge of your mattress. You close the door behind you, walking back to where you had previously been lounging on the bed. 

“I'm sorry for being a smartass,” he adds more genuinely. “I just.. didn't like seeing you in pain. That's all.” 

“This is far from my first period,” you shrug, not meeting his stare. “You get used to it after a while. But consider yourself forgiven.” 

He gives you a small smile when you finally look up at him. He grabs a smaller bag that you hadn't noticed him carrying, one that is visibly less full than the others. He reaches inside, pulling out a small jar that he hands over to you. 

Your brows furrow as you inspect it closely. “CBD gummies?” You ask, your brows now raising quizzically. You open the jar, popping one of the pink, cube-shaped gummies into your mouth. “Watermelon flavored CBD gummies?” 

You notice the faintest trace of blush bloom across his cheeks. “I take them sometimes to help me sleep,” he starts, fiddling with some of the beading on your comforter. “But they can help with all different kinds of pain too, so I just thought you might like some.” 

You close the jar, placing it on your bedside table before reaching over and grabbing his flesh hand in yours. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze and then releasing it. “Really. I appreciate all of this.” You try to ignore the jolt of electricity that buzzes through you when your skin comes in contact with his. His hand is both softer and warmer than you would have imagined. It brings you back to the last words that you spewed at him in the kitchen earlier. 

"A shit ton of pasta and CBD gummies,” you snort a laugh. “Would I be pushing my luck if I asked for that abdominal massage too?” You say it in a way that sounds halfway serious, halfway joking. 

“If that's what you want,” he says lowly, turning to angle his body towards you on the bed. “Then just say the word.” 

The air in your room suddenly feels suffocating. 

It is what you want - but you're at a loss for words. So instead of a verbal response, you scoot over to the middle of the bed, closer to where he sits on the opposite side. You lay down so that your back is flat against the mattress, your head propped up by a single pillow. 

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly wipes the look of astonishment from his features. He moves so that he's sitting directly next to your legs, giving him a proper angle to put his hands on your lower stomach. 

You're wearing the same sweatpants and tank top from earlier, having thrown the outfit back on after your shower. The loose sweatpants hang low enough to expose your hip bones and the edge of your underwear. 

The intimacy of the entire situation hits you the second that his hands make contact with your skin. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, perhaps sensing your nerves. “Or if I do anything that doesn't feel good.” 

Your eyes shut instinctively at the polar opposite sensations of his flesh and vibranium hands. Skin and metal, fire and ice.

“I will,” you assure him. Your words come out breathier than intended. 

There's an immediate relief in your lower stomach as he rubs languid circles across your midriff. It's a feeling beyond pleasure as the cramps fade the more he touches you. 

His vibranium pinky dances along the waistband of your underwear, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You try to focus on the relief he's bringing you - not the fact that you're wearing a thin tank top that leaves so much of your skin on display, giving him a clear view of the goosebumps that he's caused. 

He continues with the precise motions until the pain in your abdomen has faded nearly entirely - you feel so good that you can't stop yourself from letting out the smallest moan when his flesh hand applies just the right amount of pressure near your pelvis. 

You know he heard it - there's no way he didn't. Just as you know there's no way that he doesn't notice your fully hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top. 

You keep your eyes closed, terrified to meet his gaze in this state. You dread the moment that you feel his hands pull away from your skin. 

"You know,” he starts, his voice possessing a strained edge. “I don't think this is good enough for you.” 

Your eyes shoot open, looking at him in a nervous confusion. There's a glimmer in his eyes that you can't quite pinpoint - his stare trailing to your bedside table on the opposite side of you. “But I think I do know what could make you feel much better.” 

“What are you talking about?” Your voice quivers as you follow his stare. You're not sure what he's looking at - all that sits on your nightstand is the CBD gummies he had just given you, your Kindle, a few books, a bottle of lotion, and the Himalayan salt lamp that paints you both in an orange glow. 

He smirks before leaning across you - keeping his vibranium hand pressed firmly on your belly as he uses his flesh hand to pull open the drawer of the small table. 

“Hey! What are you–” but he retrieves the object he’s looking for before you can finish questioning him. You freeze at what he's holding in his hand. 

Your vibrator. Your glittery, lavender colored vibrator. 

“How the fuck did you–” 

“Do you think I can't hear you using this from across the hallway late at night?” He grins smugly. “That I can't hear your little whimpers when you think everyone's asleep?” 

Your face heats up a hundred degrees. You don't know whether to be infuriated or massively turned on. 

Both. You're definitely feeling a mix of both. 

He clicks the power button, turning on the device to its lowest setting. He watches you for a moment, giving you ample time to tell him to fuck off.

Instead, you once again relax against the pillow, your body going limp for him. You spread your legs the slightest bit. 

He takes this as his signal to proceed. Not taking his eyes off of your face, he trails the head of the wand from your lower stomach and over the fabric of your sweatpants until he reaches the apex of your thighs. Your nipples pucker once again, your thighs clenching around the tip of the vibrator. 

Bucky moves the device in a circular motion, making your back arch off the bed and your head tip back. 

How is it that it feels better when he massages you with it through your fucking pants than it does when you use it on your bare pussy? 

You hear the clicking of a button again, and the force of the vibration over your clothed cunt increases. You grind down on the device, desperate for friction. 

Bucky watches you with something akin to pride on his face. 

“You know how I told you to tell me if I do something you don't like?” He asks as he pushes the head of the wand directly down on your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. 

“Yeah,” you answer - it comes out like a moan that you'd hear in a porno.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Remember that.” 

Before you can clear your head enough to wonder what he means, he's tugging up the cotton fabric of your tank top and exposing your breasts. 

You gasp at the sensation of the cool air blowing from the AC coming in contact with your already hard nipples. Bucky leans forward, keeping the vibrator on your core, and captures one of your nipples in his mouth. 

Your hand immediately goes to his hair, tugging the soft brown locks in your fingers to keep him in place. His free hand grasps your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 

The combination of pleasure radiating from your pussy and his hand and mouth on you is fucking perfect. Fucking perfect, and all too much. 

You clench your thighs together, riding against the vibrator until you feel warmth spreading through your lower belly. 

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you moan - he groans when you say his name, the vibration sending you tumbling over the edge. You come hard, possibly harder than any other orgasm you've had in your life, thoroughly soaking your panties. 

When you've finished writhing beneath him, Bucky pulls back, removing both his mouth and the vibrator. He clicks the device off, tossing it towards the foot of your bed. 

You're panting, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process what the fuck just happened when you hear Bucky let out a low chuckle. 

Your eyes snap to him, finding that he looks thoroughly pleased with himself. 

"Can't say that's how I expected the day to go when I decided to sit this Coney Island trip out,” he sighs. 

“You can say that again.” You sit upright, bending your legs and crossing them at the ankles. You lean forward, tugging your shirt back into place before pulling one of the bags of food to you. 

"We should go sometime soon. Together,” you add, somewhat nervously. You aren't sure why - the guy just gave you the best orgasm of your life (and barely even touched you). 

“Are you asking me on a date?” that sly smile reappears. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I suppose I am.” 

"Then my answer is yes. But only if you share some of this food with me.” 

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks so much for reading!!! can anyone tell that i really fucking love food by how often i incorporate it into my writing? 😅

[wibben]

Pillow Talk

Choso discovers new sensations when thoughts of you turn innocent moments into something much more… hands-on.

↳ pairing: friend! choso kamo x afab! reader

↳ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, virgin! choso, m masturbation, pillow fucking, overstimulation, fantasizing, pillow fucking, (not sure who the artist is, if you do please let me know so I can credit!)

↳ wc: 3,485

↳ notes: another cross-post from my ao3 while I try to make tumblr my main writing hub! I hope you enjoy! <3

“Goodnight.”

Choso’s voice is soft, barely louder than the creak of the bathroom door as he eases it shut behind him. Yuji is already asleep, he assumes—he doesn’t expect a response, but routine compels him to speak into that dark hallway void anyway. He waits, listening—a response does come in the form of a loud snore down the hall. 

Choso smiles fondly as he silently pads back to his own room, taking that as his queue that he is well and truly done with the day.

The cool, lingering dampness from washing his face clings to his skin, tiny droplets of water catching the faint flicker of silver from breeze-blown curtains as they trace thin rivers down his cheeks and neck. His hair, still slightly damp around his face, sticks to his forehead in dark, unruly strands. He doesn't care to tame it, nor does he bother to brush away the residual drips of water. They cool his skin wherever they touch, and he’s grateful for that because he feels oddly warm.

Warm enough that his t-shirt lies discarded on the bathroom floor, haphazardly kicked towards the laundry to be dealt with later.

He toes open the door of his room and nudges it shut behind him with his heel, listening for the soft cli-click of the knob. The room is dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the window, flickering through sheer curtains that really serve no purpose other than to look cute. That’s what you said, at least. Home decor…he doesn’t get it, but you seemed pleased with the addition so he was too. 

Choso shuffles with mechanical routine as he approaches his bed, his body craving the comfort of his soft mattress, to nest into the carved divet in the foam created by and molded to his body.

With the unceremonious flop of a marionette with cut strings, Choso allows himself to fall onto the bed, the springs squeaking their protest and his sheets rustling under his weight. He lays there face down, eyes closed, and simply lets himself sink.

In the quiet dark of night and behind closed eyelids, he wonders if this is what boats feel like.

He’s never been on one, but he’s seen plenty—in movies mainly, like the one you watched together earlier that evening. With senses deprived, his body rocks with the gentlest sense of vertigo, up and down, forward and back, soothing. He feels heavy, liquid and relaxed, and yet… not quite right. There’s a restlessness beneath his skin, an undercurrent to his gentle tide he can’t quite shake. He keeps his face buried in his pillow, wrapping an arm around it and holding it tight, as if the soft fabric could anchor him.

…He doesn’t know how long he’s like this but fuck he can’t sleep.

He turns his head from his pillow, eyes cracked open in the dark, lower lip pouted and dragging against the fabric; he wears a petulant expression with nobody around to see it, nobody to explain away his uneasiness. He’s tired he knows he is, and yet he feels like a taut bowstring, ready to snap at a moment's notice.

Choso rolls onto his back instead, running a hand through his damp hair and pushing it back from his forehead as he stares up at the ceiling. The room is silent save for the occasional creak of the house settling, and the faint, distant sounds of the city outside. A dog, a car, the smash of a bottle on a curb, the flap of his curtain, the grinding of his teeth—he categorizes each sound methodically, filing them away neatly and willing the tedium to bore him to sleep like it always does. Always did. But not tonight.

He closes his eyes, trying to force tranquility and exhaustion upon himself, but his mind refuses to settle. He thinks of boats and the ocean, he thinks about when you came over and knocked on the door, he thinks of the movie he watched with you and Yuji on the couch, he thinks of cooking dinner with you in the kitchen—he thinks of you, you, and you again. The tension in his bones stirs more insistently with each and every thought, each train tracking straight back into your station.

But that’s okay. Choso likes you, likes thinking about you, and thoughts of you have lulled him to sleep before with a sort of embracing comfort he can’t even begin to name. He smiles to himself in the dark—the same brand of smile only you seem to inspire in him. He just needs to think of you more and then surely—

He remembers your smile when he opened the door, the way it lit up your entire face, the wrinkle in the bridge of your nose as it screwed up and made him smile in return. Your laughter, too, was infectious. It always is, and he caught that particular sickness with remarkable consistency every time you tittered or giggled—a laugh reciprocated in his own throat as quick as a lit match, earning more than a few wide-eyed, slack-jawed looks of disbelief from his brother.

And then there was the spaghetti. 

It’s a simple meal and he eats it far too often—but it’s good, and easy to make for three. And you, ever eager to help, had insisted on joining him in the kitchen while Yuji picked out a movie. He didn’t mind though; your presence was nice, even if it meant treacherously navigating around you as you both shuffled around the small space with enthusiastic clumsiness. You bopped cabinets and the fridge closed with your hip, which he too fell victim to more than once, finding himself nudged into the counter by a stray hip-check. Despite the occasional collision, your proximity was a comfort, a warm, lively presence in the otherwise mundane routine.

Choso couldn’t help but chuckle as you fumbled with pots and pans, finding your determination to be helpful endlessly endearing, even with something so simple as flitting about the kitchen. He directed you to the cabinet where a jar of tomato sauce was stored with a quiet look of anticipation—innocently underhanded is the request. You wouldn’t be able to reach, he was sure. You wouldn’t be able to reach, and you would ask him for help, and he would be able to help—

He remembers the way you stood on your tiptoes, reaching for the jar with your free hand splayed against the counter. As you stretched, he watched as if in slow motion, fabric unfolding like the draw of a curtain away from a theater stage. Your shirt rode up, exposing just an inch of the skin above your waistband.

The sight was brief, but it held a searing magnetism that held Choso hopelessly hostage. It sapped his mouth of moisture, glued his eyelids open, and his hand gave a peculiar twitch with the sudden urge to touch you. He watched your skin shift as you reached higher and higher, the gentle curve of your waist, the way your skin looked so soft and inviting and smooth as satin and he so badly wanted to see if this usually hidden expanse was as soft as it looked, and Choso doesn’t want for much but god did he want—

And he completely forgot to offer you a hand, his mind swept blank with ringing tinnitus in his ears when you laughed and settled back onto the balls of your feet, whirling around and flourishing the jar with a triumphant smile. Your eyes sparkled with satisfaction, and there was a slight flush on your cheeks from the effort. Choso had smiled back then, feeling a warmth in his chest that surely had everything to do with the heat of the kitchen.

Choso suddenly flinches in surprise, abruptly torn from the pleasant memory as he absentmindedly rolls his wrist over his erection. He must have been doing this for some time now, judging by how the waist of his sweatpants has already rolled down his hip bones, freeing the red and needy head of his cock to the cool air and smearing a shiny trail over his arm. He stares down at the unmistakable bulge snaking up towards his navel silently perplexed, his shaft straining against the loose fabric where it’s still confined.

He’s fully hard. He hadn’t even realized it happened, hadn’t recognized the feeling building inside him until it manifested so obviously. Arousal snuck up on him, licking up his spine with hungry fangs while he was lost in the memory of you.

Familiar heat pools low in his abdomen, a dull hook that drags beneath his skin. His cock twitches with every beat of his heart, a heavy, insistent pulse that’s impossible to ignore. And he has tried to ignore it before. It keeps him from peace, from sleep— god he just wants to sleep.

It’s a mix of aching need and slick, simmering napalm that spreads through his veins and ignites kindling he hadn’t even known was there. He knows this feeling well, even if it has no name; the way his cock grows heavier and jumps against his stomach, the way his breathing grows rough and deep—all sensations he’s experienced before, though they never fail to leave him flustered and bewildered…and annoyed, above all else.

The intensity of the need always catches Choso off guard, consuming his thoughts and clouding his mind until he could find some way to deal with it. It frustrates him how this desire would strike at the most inconvenient times—when he’s trying to sleep, or worse, the times when he’s with you —an all too frequent occurrence, he thinks, and he wonders if you’ve done something to him. He’s been a decent friend to you, so it’s with a feeling of tormented betrayal that he simply cannot understand why you would afflict him with this so cruelly and so often.

Choso lets out a shaky breath, his hips shifting restlessly against his sheets. He hesitates, a moment of self-consciousness flickering through him and burning his face with a secret blush that blooms on his face first then leaks to his throat. He shifts upright, yanking his pillow from beneath his head, the familiar texture of the fabric cool against his skin, and positions it between his legs. He shoves his pants down, bunching them around his knees—good enough.

He tilts his thigh outward and lifts his hips up, giving an almost tentative grind into the pillow, as if unsure he’s doing it right. The friction is familiar, almost comforting in its predictability. Choso’s nostrils flare with a heavy sigh, his head falling back to the mattress as he stares heatedly at the ceiling, his eyes narrowed to slits. Slowly, he starts to fuck his pillow, the movements deliberate and mechanical, driven by the single-minded need to rid himself of the troublesome arousal gnawing at him.

His cock throbs with each slow thrust, the pressure of the pillow against him both soothing and maddening. The heat in his abdomen builds, coiling tighter with every grind. Pre-cum slicks the fabric, smearing in thin, dark stripes with each drag of his length against it. The pleasure is there, tingling all the way down to his toes, but it doesn’t crest, doesn’t even come close, leaving him teetering on the most frustrating of knife edges.

He grinds harder, hips moving more forcefully now, desperation seeping into every motion. The familiar rhythm that usually brings him relief is failing him, the need growing more intense with each passing second. His mind is a haze of lust and longing, the image of you blending with the sensation of his cock twitching against the pillow, creating a heady tonic that seeps deeply into his brain, sinking hooks that he doesn’t know yet he will never be able to remove. He bites down on his lip, a low, frustrated groan escaping his throat as he thrusts harder, faster, violently clawing for the release he so desperately and suddenly needs.

But it's not enough. His body is slick with sweat, muscles tensing and trembling with the effort. The pillow, once a source of solace, now feels infuriatingly inadequate. It only works him up higher, hotter, veins in his forearms standing out as he whines in frustration.

The pillow crumbles beneath Choso’s hands, the downy feathers within compressing and shifting into a useless lump under the abuse of his pelvis. Each pounding drag against the pillow drives him further from his peak, his own aggressive hopelessness raking him over hot coals as the very thing he uses to relieve himself falls apart in his hands.

His breaths are harsh, ragged, his heart pounding in his chest as he fights against the insistent ache that won’t go away. His goal remains just out of reach, a teasing promise that leaves him gasping and grinding against the pillow with mounting desperation. He wants to scream—it isn’t working, it isn’t working, why isn’t it working?

With a final, helpless thrust and bitter groan, he collapses onto the bed, panting and trembling with unspent desire. The need is still there, throbbing and insistent, leaving him feeling more restless than before. He whips the pillow aside to thump somewhere on the floor, damp and crumpled.

Choso lies there, staring up at the ceiling, his body aching with unresolved tension. The memory of you lingers in his mind, water and oil with the frustration of his failed attempt at relief. He feels helpless, yearning in the dark for something. Sleep, peace, release from his torment, you.

You.

It’s a new thought, one he’s never entertained before, but now it feels so undeniably right. He doesn’t question where the idea comes from; it’s an instinct, an impulse he can’t quite name but can’t ignore. Driven by this sudden urge, he trails his hand down the firm ridges of his abdomen, wrapping his fingers around his throbbing cock. The sensation is electric, sending a shiver up his spine as he tentatively strokes himself.

The sensation is immediate and overwhelming. It's like a jolt of lightning, a direct line of pleasure from his cock to his brain. His eyes flutter shut, a soft gasp escaping his lips as his fingers slide along his length, the friction so much more intense than the pillow. It's hotter, slicker, and he can feel every ridge and vein beneath his touch. His hips lift off the bed, rutting roughly into his palm with a choked whimper.

He strokes himself again, more confidently this time and slowly at first, exploring the unfamiliar territory with hesitant drags of his hand. He grips himself tighter, his thumb brushing over the sensitive head, and a strangled moan breaks free of his flushed and sweaty throat. It’s sharper, more focused, and it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before.

Thoughts of you flood his mind, but they're different now, colored with a perverse longing that makes his heart race and his cock throb in his hand. He remembers your kind smile, but now it feels like an invitation, a secret shared just between the two of you. Your laughter echoes in his ears, sweet and melodic, but it twists into something more intimate and utterly salacious.

His strokes quicken, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He thinks of you reaching for the jar of tomato sauce, the way your shirt had ridden up, exposing a strip of skin that glowed in the kitchen light. That innocent moment which only planted seeds of interest is now blooming with raw, aching desire. He imagines touching you—it would’ve been so easy to reach out and skim your flesh with his fingertips, to wrap his hand around the soft curve of your waist as he stood behind you, pin his hand over yours on the counter—

His fingers move faster, slick with pre-cum, each stroke sending pops of color to the edges of his vision. He thinks of the way you held the popcorn bowl between your thighs, the meat of your legs squishing around the ceramic and the genuine affection in your eyes when you offered it to him. But now, he imagines those eyes darkened with lust, looking at him with the same desire that grips him now. He pictures you close, your body pressed against his, your breath hot against his neck as you whisper his name.

Your voice would never sound as saccharine as it would as his name forms on your lips, your voice sweet as spun sugar as you coax him toward oblivion with a hand much gentler than his own.

The friction is maddening, his grip tight and unrelenting. Each pump of his hand draws him closer to the edge, his pleasure building in a way that’s almost unbearable. He imagines your fingers tangling in his hair, your lips ghosting over his skin, sending shivers down his spine. His hips thrust into his harried palm, chasing a climax that’s so deliriously close as his room is filled with the wet little sucks of pre-cum leaking between the creases of his fingers.

He imagines those same fingers in his hair drifting down his body, splayed over his abs, leaving red lines in their wake. The thought of your touch surprises him, but it feels so vivid, so intoxicating. He pictures your hands moving lower, tracing the dark hair that trails down his abdomen, teasing and scratching lightly. He imagines your hand… fuck, he imagines your hand.

Choso’s body tenses, his breath hitching as the pleasure peaks. His mind is filled with you—your smile, your laughter, your touch—how can he so vividly feel a touch he’s never known? How can he crave it so feverishly? By god does he crave it. 

With a gasp he suddenly turns his face into the crook of his arm, teeth pressing forcefully into the cords of muscle as he cums, muffling the guttural moan and reducing it to desperate whimpers instead. 

Cum spills over his fingers, hot and sticky ropes spurting onto his chest, his stomach, his spine arching under the almost blinding force of it and he only remembers to breathe when the lack of oxygen makes him dizzy.

His breath comes in ragged, uneven gasps as he lies there, stunned as certainly as if he’d taken a blow to the temple. Using his hand made all the difference, and picturing you rather than the detached clinicality he always approached this with changed everything. For the first time ever, the act of masturbation didn't feel like a necessary chore, it was a joy. His cum glistens on his skin, thick and milky, smeared across his abs and chest and sheets, a living, dripping, testament to that change of heart.

Choso’s hand remains wrapped around his cock, now softening in his grip, but he can’t bring himself to let go—an irrational concern that he might never feel something so exquisite again if he were to release himself. His cum dribbles over his fingers, pooling in the creases of his palm, and still he cannot let go.

He milks his cock slowly, drawing out every last drop with each firm squeeze around the head. The sensation is almost painful, the overstimulation sending sharp sparks of pleasure and discomfort through him, but he can’t stop. Each squeeze brings another bead of cum to the surface, dribbling down over his knuckles, mixing with the sweat and ejaculate that already slicks his skin and connects his hand to his belly with pale ropes.

His mind is a whirl of conflicting emotions. Embarrassment floods his thoughts, a blush creeping up his neck and settling in his cheeks with that awful clarity that always crashes his consciousness after. 

He wonders if he shouldn’t be thinking of you this way. He’s never thought of anyone else like this before, and the intensity of it all leaves him feeling exposed and vulnerable. But then, a small voice in the back of his mind reassures him. You’re friends, after all. This helped him, and you always love to help.

He’s struck with an odd desire—not the desire that landed him here, spent and weak and flushed in his bed with his palm wrapped around his soft and gooey cock, but a different kind. Gratitude. He’s grateful to you for afflicting him with this and unknowingly aiding him through it. Should he thank you? Choso thinks he should thank you. 

But for now, he lets himself drift in the hazy aftermath, your image the last thing on his mind as he begins to succumb to sleep, the feeling of your imagined touch still warm against his skin. Yes, he thinks as his brain all but weeps in joy as the curtain closes on wakefulness, he would have to thank you.

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Shall we dance? - Viktor x reader

Hi there! With the second season of Arcane on the horizon, I’m excited to start writing for some of its characters. I hope you enjoy this one! ❤️

Words: ~1500 TW: none

"Can you dance?"

Your voice echoed in the lab, making Viktor look up at you with a confused look. He would lie if he said he didn't expect you to say something. Not when you stared at him in the past thirty minutes, your eyebrows slightly furrowed just like they do when something was on your mind.

"Pardon?" he said, his eyes scanning your face. He did hear your question very clearly, but he hoped that maybe you would let it go, feeling too exhausted to deal with you right now.

He never understood why Jayce wanted an assistant. He never asked you to do anything anyway. You just stood there with them, sometimes doing some of his paperwork. But today was one of those days he found himself alone with you, as Jayce was at yet another meeting.

"Can you dance?" you repeated, this time slower, making sure every word got to him.

His expression was unamused, and he looked about as tired as ever: dark circles under his eyes, messy hair from him likely running his hand through it in frustration, and the way he was slumped in his chair like he was about ready to pass out at any moment.

“I don’t dance.” He said dully.

"I didn't ask that. I asked if you could do it," you said, gesturing at his leg.

“No, I can’t.” He said in a tone that clearly told you to drop the subject. You just stood there silent for a moment, your eyes still fixed on his leg. He sighed, relieved that maybe now he could continue his work in silence.

"Have you tried?"

Dammit.

“What part of ‘no I can’t’ are you not understanding?” he snapped, “Why are you fixating on my leg?

"Have. You. Tried?" you ask again, your tone more persistent.

“Of course, I’ve tried.” He said with an obvious annoyance in his voice. He didn’t enjoy talking about this subject. “How exactly do you expect me to dance if I can barely walk in the first place?” he huffed, waving a dismissive hand at his own leg.

You lean back, your eyes scanning him once again. He knew that face - the sign that those little wires in your head are connecting, another light bulb glowing brightly.

"Have you ever danced with anyone?" He placed the pen on the table, a bit harsher than he would've wanted. His eyes locked with yours, not sure what answer you would like to hear from him. "I mean... it's easier to dance with someone than alone."

“No, I haven’t danced with anyone. It’s rather difficult to find someone who wants to dance with someone who can barely stand up without a cane."

"I would."

He was stunned for a moment, his eyes widening at your answer. “You-... Why?” What possible reason would compel you to want to dance with him of all people? You didn’t even like him or at least you acted like this.

"Because I think you might enjoy it," you said, getting up and walking to the phonograph Jayce brought in the lab at some point. His eyes followed you around, a confused look on his face as you looked at some vinyls, trying to pick one.

He turned back to his work as if that would make you disappear... forever, preferably. Your steps approaching him made his heart skip a beat, his brain fogging as your warm hand briefly touched his, snatching the pen he was holding.

"Up," you commanded him, met with a groan of annoyance.

"I'm not getting up," he said as you tugged on his hand slightly. "I have work to do."

"You worked enough."

He hated how fast you answered him like you already knew every word he was going to say.

He sighed as he raised himself from the chair, leaning against the desk as he looked down at you. "Are you happy?"

"Very much so." you smiled, his face slightly heating up at the sight. You placed his other hand on your waist, as you grabbed his shoulder tightly. "Lean onto me," you said and pulled him closer, feeling a bit taken aback by the fact that he was heavier than he looked. "I got you."

He let out a scoff but begrudgingly followed your instructions. “This is stupid…” he mumbled as he leaned closer.

"Well, it is with this attitude of yours! Try to be more positive about it!" you encouraged. "Now, we'll start with the right one, alright?"

He gave you an annoyed look as you continued being overly chipper. He hated how much you were enjoying this. “Right… and how exactly do you expect me to move my right leg without my cane?” he grumbled, waving towards his cane sitting on the desk. You looked at him for a moment, the same look from earlier appearing on your face, as you realised you've mistaken his healthy leg.

"Just... Just lean on me, alright? Pretend I'm your cane."

He stood there for a moment, hesitant. It wasn't that he didn't trust you could hold him as you proved yourself to be more than capable of supporting his weight. He felt vulnerable. He didn't really like depending on someone else, so now, having to trust you completely was a bit overwhelming. You looked up at him, a bit worried at his sudden stiffness. "Hey... If you want to stop..."

“No…” he said, a bit too quickly than he intended. It was obvious that he was trying to avoid your gaze. He took in a sharp breath through his nose, his hand on your waist tightening slightly. He could feel his heart thump in his chest as he looked down at his feet, refusing to meet your eyes. “Let’s keep going…” he finally mumbled after a moment.

You smiled at his words. "Just follow my lead."

With slow steps, he mirrored you, as the music echoed in the lab. Your hands were firm against him, making sure you were not letting him fall, your eyes scanning his body for every sign that he might want to stop. But he didn't.

He didn't want to stop. The more he moved, the more the tension in his shoulders began to ease up.

He hated to admit it, but you were right. It was easier to move with a partner. And having you hold onto him, making sure he could follow your steps… it was something akin to freedom. He didn’t have to worry about keeping himself from collapsing because you wouldn’t let him fall.

That feeling scared him as much as fascinated him.

"See?" you said. "I knew you could dance." you encouraged him, a wide smile on your face.

You looked up to notice a small smile on his lips, a hint of pride in his eyes as he heard your praise.

“Don’t get a big head about it.” he mumbled, “This is still stupid...”

You chuckled as you swayed around the desk. "But you like it," you said, your voice a bit lower.

Oh, how much he wanted to argue with you. "No, I don’t. It’s stupid. It’s pointless." But the way his heartbeat in his chest made it difficult to focus. And he hated how he didn’t want you to let go anytime soon.

"You are such a pain in the ass sometimes, you knew that?" you chuckled, as you moved your eyes back to the ground, making sure you don't step on his legs.

“I could say the same thing about you.” He let out a quiet wince of pain as his leg twitched. It seemed his body was reminding him that he was, in fact, not made to dance, as much as he hated to admit it. “Okay, yes, I’ve had enough.” he said through gritted teeth, “My leg is protesting…”

You slowly helped him sit back in his chair, your hand lingering for just a few moments on his shoulder again. "Hurts too much?" you asked, a hint of worry on your face.

"Ah, it's nothing really..." he said, already used to the pain he was supposed to endure more often than he liked to admit. A feeling of guilt passed through you, thinking that maybe you shouldn't have insisted.

"I'm sorry..." you said, as you leaned against the desk. "I just wanted to help you relax a bit, that's all..."

He looked up at you, his hand slightly squeezing your arm in reassurance. “You don’t have to apologize. You were right. That was…” He hesitated for a moment on his next words. “…That was nice…” he finally whispered.

A smile appeared on your face at his words. "Next time we'll paint. Maybe this activity will be less... dangerous."

“Paint? Really?” he raised an eyebrow questioningly. “That’s the next one on your list of things to do to get me to relax?”

You wanted to talk, but as you looked at the clock on your wrist, your eyes widening slightly as you realised you were late for a meeting. Quickly you made your way to the door. "Well... I have some other things in plan..." you smirked as you leaned against the door. "But we'll take it slow," you left him alone in the lab, a faint blush on his cheeks.

He sat there completely dumbfounded, staring at the door for who knows how long, intrigued by your words.

Suddenly, the idea of Jayce having an assistant didn't sound so bad anymore...

[hederasgarden]

Ab Initio

Summary: Terrified and alone, you find comfort in an unlikely place - Rome’s mightiest Gladiator. Pairing: Lucius Verus x F!Reader  Word Count: 2K Rating: Mature. Heavy angst with references to spousal death and SA. Author Note: This is a follow up to Post tenebras lux but in reality it is more of a prologue to that story. I intended to write an epilogue for the story, but I opened my google doc and this happened instead.  Thank you to @ryebecca and @aliensupastar for their beta help. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Everything about this place assaults your senses. The air is thick and stifling, heavy with the sour tang of blood, mixing with the acrid stench of the Gladiators' sweat and leather armor. It clings to your skin just like the weight of their eyes. You try to disappear into the folds of your dress, but there's no hiding from the way their stares strip you bare with every passing second. 

You stumble in the unfamiliar sandals, the soft leather soles slick against the cold stone beneath you as Viggo pulls you along. No one has explained your presence here or told you what is to happen. One moment, you were in the kitchen and the next you were dragged into a bath that smelled of lavender and honey, your skin scrubbed raw by the hands of women who wouldn’t meet your eyes. They oiled you, perfumed you, and dressed you in intricate and lavish clothes more befitting of a Roman bride than a slave.

Macrinus marches ahead of you, the edges of his expensive robes dragging through the dust of the ground. He hasn’t even spared you a second look, beyond the brief, cursory inspection when he first laid eyes on you where he declared that you would do.

"Hanno," Macrinus calls out, capturing the attention of one of the Gladiators in the training yard. 

The man he beckons is tall and commanding, his body a perfect balance of strength and leanness that's a testament to hard-won power rather than sheer bulk. His hair is a mass of curly brown locks that match his rugged beard, but it's his eyes — those deep, dark-set blue eyes — that are the most compelling thing about him. They miss nothing, taking in everything with a subtle, calculating sharpness. When he looks at you, it's not just a glance, it's an assessing, cataloging look.  

Macrinus grasps your shoulders and angles you towards him. “I cannot yet deliver you the general's head but I hope you'll accept a consolation prize."

The words barely leave Macrinus’s lips before Hanno’s response rings out, as cold and flat as stone. "I have no need of her."

“Come now," Macrinus presses, voice laced with a light, almost teasing amusement, but something darker lurks beneath that veneer of geniality. "She’s here, and she’s yours if you want her."

Hanno just stares back, and Macrinus sighs. 

"I have brought her all the way here," he continues, growing a little more insistent. "If not you, I’ll have to gift her to another. Or perhaps the men can share her.”

You thought you knew fear when your husband was killed as the general's army razed your city, but that’s a distant thing to what you feel now. Before you can stop it, a low, terrified sound slips from your lips. It breaks through the tightly held mask of composure you've tried to keep in place. Hanno’s attention snaps back to you in an instant. There’s something about how he looks at you that’s more measured than before, that makes your stomach churn. There's no compassion or kindness there, only a cold calculation. He looks at you like your discomfort is part of some game or unseen test.

You try to steady your breath, but the terror lingering in your chest is a living thing, crawling beneath your skin. It feels impossible to breathe. Macrinus watches the exchange with quiet satisfaction, but Hanno remains silent, his gaze never leaving you.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks. "Very well. I will take her."

Macrinus claps his hands in approval, a sharp sound that cuts through the tense silence. "I told you when we first met that a slave dreams not of freedom, but of his own slaves," he says with a chuckle. "You are not so different, Hanno of Numidia."

Your new master hums, but says nothing else. A push from behind sends you stumbling forward, closer to him. Your heart races and panic surges through you as you instinctively try to pull away, but Hanno is too quick. His grip tightens around your wrist, the roughness of his calloused skin pressing against yours, warm and solid, despite the coolness in the air of the yard.

"Is that all?" he asks. He doesn’t sound particularly interested, just... expectant.

“Yes, yes, go enjoy your hard won prize,” Macrinus encourages with a knowing grin. 

Hanno drops the wooden sword in his hand and shifts his grip to your waist. He spins you to face forward and marches you ahead of him. You’re too numb to resist, paralyzed by the overwhelming terror flooding your every nerve. It’s only when you catch sight of the iron gate of his cell that a flicker of resistance surges through your body. You dig your heels into the dirt and twist in his grasp. He doesn’t even flinch as you try to pull away; his body simply shifts with yours, pushing you forward.

“Please,” you beg. “Do not do this.”

“Stop,” he commands, but he doesn’t sound angry, just tired. 

A scream claws its way up your throat but before the sound can carry, Hanno’s hand is there, pressing over your mouth. As he forces you against the stone wall, his body pressing you into the unforgiving surface, the hand not covering your mouth swiftly moves to the back of your head. His fingers splay wide, cradling your skull before it can slam into the cold stone. The gentleness of the gesture is startling and at odds with the force of his body pinning you against the wall. For a brief moment, his touch feels oddly tender, careful even, like he’s worried about hurting you.

"Easy," Hanno murmurs. “I will not hurt you, but you must calm.” His grip tightens slightly, just enough to make sure you feel his presence, and then he asks, his voice more serious, "Can you do that? Nod if you understand.”

After a moment of stunned silence, you nod.

His shoulders drop and the hand that’s been pressed over your mouth loosens a little, though his fingers still linger. “Good,” he praises and you blink, tears escaping the corner of your eyes. “If I remove my hand will you scream?” He asks.

You shake your head and the weight from your lips disappears. You take in a shuddering breath.

“Who are you?” He questions. “A concubine?”

The word stings, like a slap. You almost choke on them, but you gather enough strength to shake your head. "No. I-I work in the kitchen.”

You can see the confusion flicker in his eyes, quickly followed by something else. His voice comes out sharp, incredulous even. "The kitchen?"

“I do not understand what is happening,” you say. The words tumble out before you can stop them. “No one has told me anything. I was dressed and brought here.” A great swell of emotion sweeps through you and a weak, tearful sound escapes from your throat.

Hanno’s expression shifts. He steps back slightly, his grip loosening just enough to give you some space, but still firm enough to remind you that you’re not free to move. For the first time since this encounter began, there’s a crack in his composure, a flicker of guilt; perhaps even a trace of pity. 

“You have nothing to fear from me,” he says, tilting his head to capture your attention. “I have no desire for you.”

No desire for you? The phrase is meant to comfort you, but all it does is add another layer of confusion to the mess of emotions churning inside. You can’t bring yourself to ask the question burning in your mind: Why, then? Why bring me here, if not for that?

“I will not hurt you,” he assures you again, before releasing your wrist. “But I cannot send you back. I cannot be sure Macrinus won’t punish you if I do.”

“Punish me?” You question. “I-I have done nothing wrong.” The sob that follows is involuntary, a sound so broken it seems to come from somewhere deep, primal. Like an unmoored boat caught in a violent storm, your emotions spin out of control, and everything you suppressed since you were brought to the arena tumbles out. 

"They took me from my husband," you whisper through the tears, your voice barely audible. "My home." Your shaking hands grasp at the delicate golden chains draped around your neck and you tug at them desperately. The metal bends under your fingers, straining, until with a sharp snap, the delicate link breaks. 

“Now they have reduced me to…to….this.”

You reach for the heavy jewels that hang from your ears next. They feel like anchors, pulling you deeper into a place that isn’t yours. With a final, desperate yank, you rip them free and they fall with a dull clink. Tears blur your vision, and you barely register Hanno’s movement as he steps closer. His presence is a sharp contrast to the turmoil inside you — steady, solid, unyielding. You expect him to dismiss your anguish and remind you of your place, but instead, he surprises you.

“I am sorry,” he says sincerely. “I am sorry they have taken so much from you, as they have from me. My wife.” He twists the thin golden ring on his pinky, a shudder passing through his body before he continues speaking. “My city. The only home I knew.”

His unexpected tenderness sweeps away the jagged edges of your panic, and you sink to your knees, exhausted. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, smearing the carefully applied kohl. Hanno shifts closer, and when you pull your hands from your face, you’re unsurprised to find him kneeling in front of you.

“We have both known too much loss at the hand of Rome,” he begins. “But I promise you, I will shield you from what I can.”

“Why?” The question slips out before you take it back. What did he want from you if not service? What kindness is there left in the world for a slave?

His gaze shifts, hardening, and you can almost feel the change in him before the words come. “I am tired of fighting. Of inflicting pain, all in the name of Rome."  He exhales and looks up at the sliver of sunlight that creeps through the bars of his window. “And perhaps because I could not save her,” he admits, his voice faltering. 

When his attention returns to you he lifts a hand as if he means to touch you. It hovers just a breath away from your cheek before he drops it. “But I can help you.” 

The vulnerability in his admission surprises you. You don’t know what to say nor how to react, but Hanno requires neither. He simply offers you his hand and pulls you to your feet when you accept. You let him guide you to sit on the cot, looking up at him tearfully.

“We should remain here for a while. The others will expect me to…” he trails off and you nod. 

He settles himself on the opposite end of the bed and rests his elbows heavily on his knees, hanging his head forward. In the dim light, you can see how the lines of exhaustion etched into his face are deeper than you noticed before. What you can see of his arms and chest are a constellation of scars and bruises. Some are old and faded while others are fresh and raw. Each is a testament to the violence and suffering he's carried with him.

You look at your own hands, roughened in their own way from work over the years but compared to him, your body feels unmarked by anything significant. It seems impossible that you bear no scars, no visible traces of the grief and pain that consume you. 

You don’t know if you can trust Hanno, but his promise feels like a bridge between the wreckage of your life and whatever might lie beyond this moment of darkness. You want to believe him. You want to hope. 

It’s all that’s left to you now.

♡

My inbox is open for your thoughts on Lucius and requests for drabbles with his character

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

╰┈➤ ❝ zayne x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : pwp (with very little plot), softdom!zayne, reader feels a little low, kissing and making out, heavy petting, grinding/dry humping, marking, cuddle sex, comfort sex, soft and slow sex, mention of belly bulge, holding hands, vaginal sex (unprotected), creampie, slight cockwarming, praise, use of pet names "darling" "sweetheart". lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 3.1k

an : i've been so...... very much....... in my zayne feels..... i don't usually write zayne bc he's so difficult for me to write but omfg 😭 i needed this for me LMAO

taglist : @spotted-salamander @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @theanbitchless @hunters-association (SIGN UP HERE)

"Are you certain you can fall asleep like this?"

The question made you pause.

There was a slight shift in movement, the faint clicking sound of his glasses being set on his nightstand. And though you'd barely tilted your head back up to look at him, you felt an arm rest gently over your waist, subtly guiding you to cuddle closer against his chest. You knew, then, that the book he'd been reading had been set aside, as well.

You closed your eyes.

In this position, he held you securely against him, your ear pressed up against his chest to hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

"What d'you mean?" you murmured. Your voice was slightly muffled.  "I'm okay, I told you I just wanted to be comfy... Why? Are you done reading?"

He didn't answer immediately, and it made you glance up.

His gaze was fond.

He took a moment—his thumb caressed your cheek, a warm gesture he knew worked to soothe you. It did exactly as he'd hoped, of course; your head lulled to the side, a content sigh leaving your lips. It was this that made the corners of his mouth twist up into a little smile.

"...Mm, it's enough for today," a soft chuckle fell from his lips. "But... it just feels as if something's different tonight."

This time, you felt his other hand trail over your back, moving in a soft, soothing rub.

Your gaze fixed on his.

His words stirred up a puddle of guilt, but it wasn't something you wanted to talk about.

"Something's... different? Zayne, I can assure you that I—"

"Please."

The excuse died on your lips.

The way he said it—such a simple word—was soft. Softer than usual. Enough so to get you to notice the way his eyes would search yours, that shade of hazel you'd always loved so dearly... The concern in his eyes was genuine, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

"I... want to know what's been on your mind today. And it feels like you've been... thinking, quite a lot."

When he spoke again, you found that it was you who couldn't answer right away. And for your silence, you were met with another little smile, a chaste kiss placed into the crown of your head.

Zayne always had a way of compelling you to be more honest than you usually were.

You shook your head.

"M'just.... Not been feeling myself today, that's all," you said quietly.

Your eyes closed again, and you rest your head back down on his chest, finding comfort in the way his hand would start slowly massaging circles into your back.

"I see," he murmured. And there was something about the timbre in his voice that had you vocalizing your contentment with a little hum.

He didn't really say anything else.

You knew he wanted to, but this was just how he was—somehow he knew when you wanted to leave things as they were, and that his presence was, in this moment, simply enough.

You shifted to curl into him a little bit more, allowing your eyes to meet yet again.

"I don't want you to worry," you started.

"I know," he nodded.

"It's really just something trivial. It'll pass."

"...I know."

You smiled again, a little bit.

"I just... It feels like one of those days, you know? There's no real reason I've been feeling like this, sometimes it just happens, and..."

"And you don't want to concern me over it."

He finished it for you.

And this time, it was his turn to smile, his eyes settling into a soft gaze.

"I was simply... making sure," he murmured. A finger found its way beneath your chin, tilting it up a little, until his lips met yours in a kiss so gentle that it sent butterflies flurrying into your stomach. "If we're to sleep, I don't want you to go to bed upset."

"M'not upset..."

He chuckled a little, and you had to give him another ppout

"Really, I'm not!"

"I know."

He reached over to hold your thigh, gently guiding it to rest over his leg, before leaning in to kiss your forehead. You blinked. Trying to search his gaze would prove fruitless, but there was a hint of a tease that you could recognize in his tone.

"I believe you," he hummed, "but... would it be alright to hold you like this for a moment, anyway?"

Your eyes widened.

There was nothing too... much, about how close you were to him, certainly. Yet the more you looked at him, the more you could feel yourself drawing closer. You could only watch as his eyes closed, and he sighed, nuzzling his nose against yours.

"I'm not good with words." A shiver ran through your body as he leaned in to whisper into your ear, hot breath pricking at your skin. "But... If you don't like the person that you are today... then I would like to show you that I like her very much."

His arm slid beneath you to lock you into a tight embrace, pressing himself more insistently against you. His head dipped, lips attaching to your shoulder.

"Zayne..." you sucked in a breath as his teeth nipped at your skin.

The only reply you received was a soothing lap of his tongue against the mark he'd just made, and it was enough to draw out a quiet whine from you, raising your leg to wrap around his waist. The skirt of your nightgown rode up—it was near-immediate the way he reacted, then, a hand gliding down your back to gently grip at your soft flesh.

He smiled at your skin and pushed you slightly upwards. The erection poking against you was unmistakable.

"Z-Zayne!" you gasped, yet your hips moved nearly involuntarily, and he let out  a slow breath at the instigated friction.

"Shhhh."

His lips ghosted over yours, hazel eyes peering into your own.

"Let me take care of you?"

It was a question, still. He would never do anything you weren't up for, and you knew that—there was something about it that made your heart flutter. Add to it the fact that there wasn't even a need for him to cater to you like this; you knew this was nothing but a temporary feeling of yours. It wasn't necessary for you to receive any more affection him than you'd gotten that day. Yet... here he was, willing to offer just that.

You felt him lean in forward for another kiss—still gentle, still soft, your eyes closing into the sensation.

It was nice, like this.

Truly, you didn't have any complaints—he was being so sweet with you, and now, of all times. How could you refuse?

"...M'kay," you murmured against him. Your arm wrapped around his neck, and you felt him smile.

"You know that I cherish you, sweetheart, right?" he sighed contentedly.

Again his lips found yours, his hand stroking the side of your arm in a comforting motion. And for a while, it continued just like that—having you pressed up against him, his hand slipping beneath your down to leave goosebumps across your skin. Just soft, light, gentle caresses, your lips moving in sync enough to bring your bodies into a slow rocking motion.

Otherwise quiet, it was the kisses and soft panting that echoed in the room, having your hands gliding up to thread through his hair. Zayne could only pull you close, closer than close, his own hand returning to rub circles into your skin before resting on the small of your back. Every so often he would give a light squeeze, allowing you to grind yourself onto him, eliciting soft gasps that he would only swallow back into his kisses.

When your eyes opened, hazy and half-lidded, you could faintly make out the glowing outline of his silhouette. His cheeks were flushed by this point—they no doubt mirrored yours. The dim lighting of the lamp on the nightstand did nothing less than paint a soothing, ethereal image before you.

"...I love you," you murmured.

You'd said it without thinking, but they weren't particularly words that felt foreign to you.

Zayne chuckled, and it seemed that your confession had earned you another kiss.

"I know. And I love you."

Quiet, shuffling motions had your gown and his robe both discarded, and you groaned as his lips trailed down over your body. His head dipped, tracing your every curve, peppering kisses wherever he went, his hand stroking lovingly at your skin.

You curled into him—wrapping your leg back over his waist, wanting to feel his warmth all over you. You could hear the soft moans emanating from his lips, so busy suckling at your skin and leaving proof of his love everywhere that he possibly could. The harsher nips blended soothingly with his gentle caresses, hands kneading at your flesh as if to distract you from the slight sting of his marking.

"Oh, Zayne..." you moaned, rutting your hips against his bulge once more in an attempt to bring the both of you back into that slow, rocking rhythm.

Gradually he trailed his lips back up your body, from the dip or your hips, to your navel, to the valley of your breasts. Another mark beneath your collarbone that had you gasping, before kissing up your neck to meet your lips once more.

You could feel it; the satisfied smile etched on his lips as he kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you. He wasn't saying it with words, but you could feel it—every kiss meant I love you.

"Feel better?" he whispered. His breath tickled the side of your neck as he gripped your thigh and held you around him, rocking his hips into yours. But he didn't wait for you to reply before he reached over to push your panties to the side, running a finger through the wetness that had pooled.

"Mmnh..." Your eyes closed, your hips bucking at the direct contact.

A chuckle and a few more kisses peppering your face before he spoke, "Are we okay with this?"

His finger ran up over your slit another time, collecting your slick before circling your entrance patiently.

You bit your lip.

It was just like him to ask for your consent again, even though you'd already been grinding against each other like this, even if he could already feel how wet he had gotten you.

But...

"Can we just... Can I have you, instead?"

Your voice came out a little shy, but the directness of your request remained punctuated by the way your hand drifted down to palm him through his boxers.

There was a certain surge of pride you felt, knowing your actions had gotten him this hard, had caused the shaky breath that he released, unable to stop his hips from jerking against you. In response to you, again your lips were captured into a kiss—and though he was keen on keeping the gentle atmosphere, there was a hint of desperation in the way his lips moved against yours.

"Mmm," he moaned quietly into you, hands making quick motions to free himself from the confines of his boxers.

You couldn't see it, too lost in the kiss, hands sliding up his body to cup his face for more of it—the sounds of lips smacking together became louder, more insistent, more heated.

But you felt it.

A hand on your ass, rubbing motions to keep your folds parted for him as the tip of his cock dipped teasingly into you. His legs slid against yours with the shallow thrusts he would give you, allowing you to get used to the feeling. And it was a stretch, nonetheless—no matter how many times you'd felt him inside you, you couldn't help but moan into the kiss, patiently waiting for him to ease himself in.

Your hand moved down to grip his back, almost hoisting yourself over him to spread your legs a little wider. "Mmh, Z-Zayne..."

You were panting, eyes steady on his, mouth slightly open. And with every thrust he made, he slid further and further into you, causing your breath to hitch.

"Does it feel good, sweetheart?" He brushed a few strands away from your face, placing soft kisses all over your face yet again. "I love you. You feel wonderful, darling."

A quiet moan left your lips as he squeezed your ass up once more, allowing you to take him in.

And it was a moment before either of you moved.

Quiet, hushed huffs of breath as you clenched around him, eyes heedy with desire with how closely you focused on the feeling of being full again. And his own gaze remained fixed upon yours. A hand rest on your cheek, thumbing at your skin, eyes so fondly looking into yours that you could melt.

There was no other place you could feel so loved than with him.

"Look at you," he murmured. "Darling, you look wonderful."

Your heart swelled, enough to have you drawing in a sharp breath.

It was so silly to think that this all started on the slightest inkling he had that you weren't feeling your best. And yet, he would never fail to make you feel loved. Whether you asked for it, or you didn't—he had his way of making sure you didn't feel unloved.

And it meant so much to you.

With a smile, your hips began to rock, and you cherished the groan that fell from his lips.

"You look wonderful, too, Zayne," you whispered back.

His head buried into your neck as you cradled him, his own hips moving in time with yours. Every languid pump of his cock pushed him deeper into you, bodies pressed so impossibly close that you could feel the head radiating off of the both of you. Flushed and heedy, you rolled against each other in a sensual waltz—it was the lamp on your bedside table that had your shadows dancing across the wall.

Gasps and pants permeated the air.

Slow, and deep, and steady... the slick sounds of your sex would mix in with the hushed moans that would slip from your lips, your vision already blurry in the haze of how deep he would fuck into you. The burn of his length dragging inside you was elating. You could feel each throb of his pulse inside you, his hand sliding slowly over your thigh, massaging your flesh.

"Zayne..." you breathed, "Zayne."

It was all you could say.

"A-ah... Ah~ Zayne..."

Muffled against your skin, his lips had resumed its attack on your neck, littering bruises that you knew you'd have trouble covering up the next morning. He would leave your skin with red marks all over it, a line of love bites from your nape up to your jawline—

But he wasn't rushing.

It was tender; affectionate, the way he made love to you.

You felt it.

He kept up the pace. Just slow, easy fucking motions as his lips latched back into yours. And everytime he sunk into you, you could feel your eyes roll back into your head, every listless thrust a reminder of how you could feel every inch of him inside you.

"Sweetheart," he whispered against your lips, "you're so good for me..."

It was only then that he made the subtle shift, rolling you onto your back and pressing his body onto yours. Your legs wrapped fully around his waist, and you could feel his weight push down on you, allowing him to sink even deeper and causing your eyes to widen with a gasp.

"Zayne!"

This time his hand found yours, fingers intertwining. With another kiss to your forehead, you felt him slide your hand over your body, pressing lightly into your lower abdomen enough to have your body arching into him.

"I'm right there, sweetheart," he murmured.

You could feel the faint outline of his cock moving in and out of you. He was pressing so deep into you that your head threw back, lifting your hips into him for more. Moans swallowed into more of his kisses, the room echoed with that soft sound of skin slapping against skin with a quiet, rhythmic, pap, pap, pap.

Your hands clawed at his back, his pace stuttering almost immediately at the sting from your nails. You could have delighted at the muffled curse he moaned into you, hips pressing you deeper into the mattress.

He detached himself from your lips, already red and swollen, and his breath fanned over your face. With his forehead resting against yours, you could clearly see that mixture of lust, and desire, and adoration swimming in the depth of his eyes—it made your heart jump.

His thrusts began to pick up the pace slightly, eliciting soft, staccato pants from you. He reached over to take your hands into his, pressing them up against the pillows and curling his fingers into you.

"Going to cum..." he whispered, a word of warning that had you nodding your head.

"Okay," you breathed. "Inside."

His eyes widened.

It was easy for you to use that opportunity to lock your legs around his waist, paying back the marks he'd left on your body by dipping your head to latch onto his neck.

With a gutteral groan, you felt it—hot streams of his cum painting your insides, the pulse of his cock a delight that sent you trembling over your own high. Moans muffled against your skin, you clung to him tightly, hands gripping his until your knuckles nearly turned white.

"Haah... haah... D-darling, you're..."

He panted into your ear, pulling the both of you back onto your sides as he rode you through your orgasm.

Your chest heaved, your vision blurry. Again you found your hand resting on his cheek, pulling your gazes up to meet each other.

"Zayne..." you whispered, trying to catch your breath.

Slowly, he churned the juices inside you, the wet noises nearly turning your face even more flushed than it had been.

Another kiss... and another, and another.

"Tired?" he murmured.

Still his hils continued to rock gently against yours, lighter, shallower thrusts as if to soothe you.

Your eyes fluttered closed.

"...Mhm."

You felt an arm wrap around you, bringing you back into that embrace of his that you loved so dearly.

"Feel better?"

You smiled.

"Mhm."

This time, he placed a kiss onto the top of his head, hips stilling inside you as he held you close.

"Good," he nuzzled into you. "Go to sleep, sweetheart. I'll clean you up after a moment."

His soft strokes of your hair were enough to lull you to sleep.

The last thing, then, you heard, was a small, quiet mumble:

"I love you."

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 8

Word Count- 7.8k

Warnings- Swearing, violence, blood, unhealthy thoughts when it comes to pain

A/N- Klaus in Alaric’s body will be referenced as Klaric since it’s easier for me to remember and easier than putting, “Klaus in Alaric’s body,” 100 times lol. ALSO it was so uncomfortable to write Klaus in Ric’s body when he and the reader are interacting.  So good luck.

-3rd Person POV-

Katherine sat shaking in her chair as she watched Klaus, who was currently residing in Alaric’s body, riffle through Alaric’s closet. Katherrine’s fear was evident to both parties as she watched the man from a small distance. 

“Ugh! Who is this guy? Safari Sam,” Klaric said disgustedly as he went through the dozens of flannel and khaki shirts. 

Klaric sighs as he grabs two shirts from the rack and holds them up in front of the younger vampire, “Okay. Bad… Or badder?”

Katherine scowls as she answers him, “The dark colors suit you better.”

“Oh thank you, honey. Okay,” Klaric throws the dismissed shirt onto the bed and then begins to put on the dark one, “Pop quiz. The dagger and white ash are in the Salvatore's possession, correct?”

“The dagger was used to kill Elijah. You’ll find him in the basement of the Salvatore house,” Katherine answers the question with about as much excitement as one can have in her situation. 

“Okay, that dagger needs to stay exactly where it is. The last thing I need to do is resurrect Elijah,” Klaric scoffs, “Oh, that guy’s a buzz kill.”

“Don’t forget you’re on the outs with your girlfriend Jenna.”

Klarics eyebrows raise and he nods along as if he actually cares, which he doesn’t, “Right. Elena’s aunt. For, uh, all the lies about Isobel. What else?”

“That’s it,” Katherine says but her breathing betrays her. Klaric takes a step forward and brings his hand up to brush a finger over her hair, resulting in a frightened jump from the latter. 

“So jumpy,” Klaric’s mocking tone breaks the silence. 

“Please,” Katherine’s voice comes out desperate, “Just kill me. I’ve told you everything I know.”

Klaric leans down to be eye to eye with the doppelganger, “See, I believe you believe that. But what would you not know? What could they be keeping from you? Anything? Tell me,” Klaric’s pupils enlarge as he compels the younger vampire. 

“They were trying to see if Bonnie could find a way to kill an Orginal without a dagger.”

“Bonnie the best friend?”

Katherine nods as Klaric stands up and crosses his arms in annoyance, “I thought you said she didn’t have her powers anymore.”

“She doesn’t. Or didn’t. I don't know,” Kathrine tries to reason, “You kidnapped me, remember? I’m kind of out of the loop.”

“Well, we’ll have to get to the bottom of that,” Klaric glances down at Kathrine again, “Anything else I should know.”

Katherine appears to be fighting back her words but Klaric’s compulsion proves to be too strong, “There’s a girl.”

This perks Klaric’s interest as he gestures with his hand for Katherine to continue, “Oh please, do go on.”

“She’s a friend of Elena’s,” Klaric rolls his eyes at this statement getting bored of Katherine’s dodginess. 

“Katerina, please tell me you aren’t wasting my time with the knowledge of a teenage girl who holds no means to my plan.”

Katherine opens and closes her mouth a few times before lowly biting out her words, “Elijah was quite fond of her. Before he was daggered.”

At this comment, Klaric��s eyebrows furrow, and a small smirk covers his lips, “You mean to tell me my older brother has a little crush on some teenage girl,” The amusement in his tone is evident. 

Katherine shakes her head as if Klaric should understand better what she’s talking about, “No it’s not like that,” She frowns, “Well, at first I had thought so too, but it’s deeper than just some crush. From what I’ve heard and seen it’s not just some random bond between them. It’s something deeper, something supernatural. Elijah is overly protective of her and he looks at her like,” She pauses as if talking about this hurts her, “Like, she’s all there is.”

At Katherine’s last sentence, the smirk from Klaric’s face promptly drops and is replaced momentarily by a look of disbelief. 

“You’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting,” Klaric’s tone darkens.

“I’m not one hundred percent sure, I mean I’ve only seen that kind of bond a handful of times in my entire life but,” Katherine sighs, “That’s the only possible explanation I can find for an Original vampire latching himself to a human girl like that.”

Klaric appears to be in thought for a moment as he processes Katherine’s words. Realizing that if the younger vampire were right, it would cause a slight hitch in his plans. 

Katherine, taking Klarics silence as a threat speaks up hastily, “Please, just kill me, Klaus. Be done with it.”

Klaric turns around and frowns mockingly at her, pushing the new information he just learned into the back of his brain for the current moment, “And show you kindness? I’ve searched for you for over five hundred years. Your death… is going to last at least half that long.”

Katherine’s shoulders tighten as Klaric pulls a pocket knife out from his jeans and opens it, “I want you to take this knife…and stab yourself.”

Katherine slowly picks up the knife and without a second thought plunges the knife into her thigh.  

“And while I’m gone, I want you to do that over and over and over again. And if you get bored,” Klaric smiles at her with nothing but malice, “switch legs.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna go lay eyes on my precious doppelganger,” Klaric thinks for a moment before smirking, “and maybe my future sister-in-law.”

Klaric presses a kiss to the top of Katherine’s head, “Oh, don’t look so glum, Katerina. The fun is just beginning.”

—

Y/N POV-

My hand shakily grips my shifter as I put my car into park. My hand continues to rest there as my vision goes in and out and my breathing rises as I stare at the Salvatore house in front of me. I can see Stefan and Damon sitting on the brick porch but I don’t seem to have caught their attention so that gives me a moment to collect myself. I try to calm my breathing, by doing deep breaths in and out, the longer I do this though, and prolong going into the boarding house, a coil of anxiety builds in my stomach. The last time I was here was days ago when Alaric killed Elijah. 

“He’s only temporarily dead. As long as the dagger stays in his chest he won’t wake up.”

The information Elena had told me the morning after the dinner party bounced around in my head, just like it had since the first time I heard it.

-Flashback-

A sharp pain jolts me out of the comforting dream I was having. It was one I don’t remember ever having before and it felt more like a memory than anything else. I remember sitting on a rock overlooking a small glistening brook, the smell of forest air and wildflowers surrounded me. I remember feeling the warm sun caress my skin and then hearing footsteps beside me. A man, or who I believed was a man, I couldn’t tell since his face was blurred. It was like when you look at your reflection in water but then the current comes and causes ripples, distorting your reflection. When staring at his face I would think for a moment that I could place together some of his features but whenever I believed I got close, his face would ripple again.

 Thinking back to it I knew I should’ve been unnerved by the faceless man but I felt nothing but a certain kind of comfort. As if I was meeting an old friend that I had known longer than life itself. The man's blurred face would look back at me and from his staring I wondered if my face was just as blurry as his was and he was trying to decipher my features just as I was with him. I never found out though because right when he appeared as if he were to start speaking I was awoken by the pain in my chest. 

“Hey, hey! You’re ok, everything is ok,” Elena’s comforting voice comes from beside me as I feel her pull me into a hug. 

I shake her off and then look at her quizzically, the dull ache in my chest still present, “What happened? Why are you here?”

Elena’s face falls from a worried look to one of shame as she glances down at her hands.

“Elena?”

She sighs and looks back up to me, “How much of last night do you remember?”

At her question I frown and wonder what she could mean by that but then quickly memories of the dinner party and Elijah catapult through my mind. Elijah picking me up because of my flat tire, hearing him talk about Salem and the dead witches, him holding my hand, and…, “Oh God. Elijah! He died,” I know I shouldn’t care so much about a man I had just met but something in me shakes, “Alaric he killed him.”

Elena shakes her hands and head, “No! Well…I mean technically, yes, but not really.”

Elena must see the evident confusion on my face because she begins to retell everything that happened after I had passed out. From Alaric and Jenna taking me home, to Elijah waking back up and going after Elena, and then to Elena tricking Elijah and daggering him. Even though Elena’s my friend, when she told me that, anger rose throughout my body and I wanted to yell at her for what she had done. But from the guilty look on her face, I could tell she was already mad at herself. 

“He’s only temporarily dead. As long as the dagger stays in his chest he won’t wake up,” Elena tells me, and a deep breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes my lips. 

“When I heard about you fainting I came here as soon as I could. I got here a few hours ago,” She motions to my bedroom door, “Your mom let me in. I’m really sorry you had to witness that Y/N, if I knew what Damon was up to I would’ve warned you not to go. But, when has Damon ever let any of us in on his master plans,” She tries to crack a joke but it doesn’t land. 

“So Elijah isn’t dead?”

Elena shakes her head, “Nope, just temporarily.”

-End of Flashback-

Temporarily. Not dead dead. Well I mean technically he’s already dead but… never mind. A light knock on my car window makes me slightly jump, but I relax when I see Stefan standing there with a small comforting smile on his face. He slowly opens my car door, “Are you ok, Y/N?” 

I want to tell him, “hell to the no,” and put my car in drive and never come back to this godforsaken house ever again, but I can’t do that to Stefan. 

Days have passed since the dinner party and each one Stefan has somehow checked on me and my mental state. At first, it was him showing up at my house because I couldn’t get myself to go to school, but then when I finally did push myself to go he would somehow always find me in the hallways and walk with me to my classes, even those that we didn’t share. Some of those times Elena would join us, so I thought it was him just following her around but then when Elena wouldn’t show up at school or she was somewhere else he’d still walk with me. I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it was kind of nice. I know it’s just pity but I began to look forward to our walks since we’d just talk about anything and nothing. I’d found that Stefan, unlike his brother, is quite personable when he’s not overtaken by his lust for blood. Which is something he admitted to me one day after school. I found it odd how someone who seems to be as moral as he is, can succumb to that kind of monster. 

I want to slam my door and leave but instead, I send Stefan a small smile, turn my car off, and step out of my car. Even though I think he’s only being nice to me out of pity, I don’t really want to ruin any chance of messing up whatever “friendship” we have going on.

“Elena’s waiting for you inside,” Stefan smiles at me again as he leads me up the walkway to the stairs where the Demon is perched. I glare at him as he smirks devilishly at me as I walk up the stairs. 

“How was your trip?”

Damon’s question has me shaking my head in annoyance, “What are you gabbing about, I didn’t take any trip.”

“I mean the trip you took to the floor,” He laughs to himself like he’s the funniest person alive, “You know when you fainted.”

“Go to hell, Damon.”

“Go to hell, Damon.”

Stefan and I echo each other as we both roll our eyes at the dark-haired vampire who just shrugs his shoulders, “Just playing around. It’s how Pukie and I’s friendship works.”

My lip curls up in disgust, “We don’t have a friendship.”

Damon fakes a gasp as he places his hand on his nonbeating heart, “You wound me.”

“Too bad not fatally,” I say under my breath but both vampires catch it, resulting in a small snort from Stefan and a scowl from Damon. The latter appears like he’s about to say something else but when the front door opens and a bald man who looks like he just walked off a Monopoly game board comes out, he stops. 

Elena appears beside him and shakes his hand, “Thank you, Mr. Henry.”

Mr. Monopoly sends her a smile and then leaves. I walk with Damon and Stefan to the front door and as I walk through I hear them both halt. I turn around to see them both standing at the entryway of the door. 

“Did I miss something? Who was the bald guy,” I question Elena who stands next to me and laughs at my question.

 “That was Mr. Henry. He just gave the deed to the house,” Elena smiles as she looks around the room as if she hadn’t been here a thousand times before.

“Wait. This house,” I point to the ceiling confused.

Elena nods, “Yep. Damon and Stefan signed over the house to me so no uninvited guests can enter without my approval.”

Oh. Vampires. Right.

“Oh, well that’s smart, I think. Must’ve been Stefan’s idea right?”

“You’re hilarious, Pukey,” Damon says with no amusement covering his face. 

Stefan seems delighted though as his shoulders move up and down in laughter. 

Elena turns to Stefan and smiles at him, “Stefan. Would you like to come inside my house?”

“I would love to. Thank you,” Stefan smiles at his girlfriend and comes to stand next to me as we watch Elena and Damon having a stare-down. 

“What are we, twelve?”

“One of us is,” Elena’s jab has me snorting.

“If I let you in do you promise to obey the owner of this house?”

Damon face contorts in disgust as if that was the craziest thing he’s ever heard, “No.”

“Seriously, Damon. My way. You promised. I call the shots. No lies, no secret agendas. Remember?”

“Yes, Elena. Sure.”

Elena looks like she’s about to invite him in but then she looks back at me momentarily and then back to Damon, “One more thing.”

Damon rolls his eyes, “Of course.”

“No more calling Y/N those nicknames. Stop being an ass.”

Damon looks at her for a moment before glancing at me and sending me a fake smile, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Then please, come in.”

Damon walks through the threshold and by Elena and Stefan but when he passes me, he leans down slightly to whisper to me, “Always gotta cross your fingers, Pukey,” Damon raises his hand to show his middle finger crossed over his pointer finger. 

“Ass.”

I follow the three into the living room but then notice Bonnie and send her a small smile, her face brightens as she sees me and sends me a friendly wave. Bonnie hands Elena her jacket who puts it into her bag.

“Wait,” Stefan interrupts, “Where are you going?”

“To school.”

“Huh?”

Damon chimes in, “No, no, no, we didn’t create a safe house for you to leave it.”

“Yeah, guys. Klaus is out there. We know that.”

“Right. But where? No one knows. Look. I really appreciate what you guys are doing. And I’ll be able to sleep at night knowing that I’ll be safe here but I’m not going to be a prisoner,” Elena stares at both the men and Stefan glances back to his brother.

“Your way, Elena.”

“Don’t worry, I’m ready. If he shows his face, I can take him. I know how,” Bonnie’s words send a sense of comfort through me. Always stay next to the all-powerful witch. Noted. 

“The way I see it next to Bonnie is the safest place I can be.” 

“Come on,” Elena gestures for us to follow her to our cars. 

I wait at the door for a moment though, pretending to be grabbing my keys from my bag. Stefan walks past me and follows Elena and Bonnie. I turn to Damon who stands in the same spot and send him a small smirk as I bring my hand out of my bag and show him the singular finger I’m holding up. 

Damon scoffs and rolls his eyes, ��Real mature.”

“Later, Demon.”

—

The first-period bell rings as I quickly run to my seat next to Bonnie. I stopped for an iced tea and didn’t really know how long it would take me. So thankfully going ten miles over the speed limit the entire way got me here just in time. I turn and smile at Elena who is sitting behind me and Stefan who is sitting to her right. Elena brings up the paper in her hands and shows it to me and Stefan with a smirk. The paper is a flyer for the 60’s dance tonight and both Stefan and I share the same face as we both shake our heads at Elena. She just rolls her eyes and shows it to Bonnie who smirks even more than Elena and nods her head. I laugh slightly at my new friend and she leans over to me, “Caroline will kick your butt if you don’t come tonight.”

I debate it over for a moment if I’d rather spend two hours in a gym with sweaty teenagers or face the blonde wrath of Caroline Forbes. 

“Yep, I’ll be there,” I say and hear Elena whisper-yell a small yay and Bonnie smirks triumphantly. 

“Hello, class,” Ric’s voice has me turning to the front as he walks in. I frown though when I see his current apparel. Unlike before, where he usually opts for something casual, today something about him seems different. He almost looks kind of attractive. Wait. Ew, hell no. 

Ric thumbs through the book he’s holding as he asks the class what we’re learning today, which I find quite odd since that’s kind of his job. Maybe he’s day drinking again?

“With the decade dance tonight we’ve been covering the ‘60s all week,” Dana’s voice has me inwardly groaning. Ever since I got to this school she’s been a total pain in my ass, always commenting on how I dress or how little I talk. 

‘Right the ‘60s,” Ric turns to the class but stops for a moment. I follow his line of sight and frown as I watch him watch Elena closely for a moment before clearing his throat. 

He turns back around to face the chalkboard, “The uh… The ‘60s wish there was something good I could say about the ‘60s but, they actually kind of sucked.”

I slightly snort at Ric’s jokes because honestly, he’s not wrong. I stop laughing though when I realize he heard me. I meet Ric’s eyes and I frown in confusion when his eyebrows furrow and his eyes search my entire face practically a hundred times over as if this is the first time he’s ever seen me. He watches me for another moment before he clears his throat and turns back to the board hastily. Well, that wasn’t weird at all. 

“Um, ya. The uh, Beetle’s made it bearable,” Ric turns back around and faces the classroom his gaze finds me once more and I frown at him to which he darts his eyes away. Ya, definitely day drinking. 

“Um, what else was there, The Cuban missile thing, the uh. We walked on the moon, there was Watergate.”

“Watergate was the seventies, Ric,” Elena corrects him stopping him from his pacing, “I mean, Mr. Saltzman.”

“Right, all kind of mushes together up here, the ‘60s, ‘70s. But thank you, Elena.”

The rest of the class goes on like this, Ric half-assedly teaching, or more like listing things that happened in the ‘60s. Thankfully after 45 minutes the bell rings and I go to follow my friends out of the classroom but stop as I glance at Ric who is wiping away the writing on the chalkboard. Elena, Bonnie, Stefan, and the rest of my classmates exit the classroom leaving just Ric and I. I don’t think he realizes I’m here as I walk up towards his desk.

“Uh, Ric?”

At the sound of my voice, Ric’s hand pauses on the chalkboard and for a moment I could’ve sworn I saw his grip tighten on the brush. I hear him release a breath before he turns to look at me. His face is remote from any emotion as he stares at me.

“Yes?”

His monotone voice has me slightly annoyed, “I just wanted to check if you were alright?” 

My question has him slightly narrowing his eyes at me, “Why would you think something is wrong?”

I shrug my shoulders, “I don’t know you just seem a little out of it. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I mean I heard about Jenna and I know it’s none of my business but-”

“You’re right, it is none of your business,” Ric’s harsh tone has me frowning as I look at him. The way he’s talking to me is almost like I’m talking to a complete stranger. 

“Don’t you have a class to be going to, instead of bothering me?” I open my mouth to question why he’s being such an ass but these past few days I don’t really feel like I have any fight left in me at times. Right now being one of those. 

“I’m sorry,” I say pulling my backpack closer to me as I begin to walk out the door, “I’ll make sure to not bother you again.”

—

The rest of the first half of school goes by slowly and I practically have to trudge my way into the cafeteria. Elena notices me and waves at me. I look over to the lunch line but can’t seem to find the appetite to eat so I slowly make my way over to Bonnie and Elena. I throw my bag on the table, lay my head on it, and close my eyes with a sigh.

“Long day,” Elena questions from beside me.

I just wordlessly nod. 

“Aren’t you going to get lunch,” I hear Bonnie ask me, and I shake my head. 

“Alright, wakey-wakey,” Elena uses her index finger to lift my head off my bag, “You need to eat, here,” She rips her sandwich and half, and I kind of find it gross her fingers are touching my share but the gesture is still sweet. She places the sandwich in my open hand and gestures for me to eat it. I stare at it for a moment then slowly bring it to my lips and take a minuscule bite.

“Yummm,” I say sarcastically which makes Bonnie giggle and Elena roll her eyes playfully. 

We’re interrupted though when the she-devil appears, “Hey, Elena, there you are,” Dana’s squeaky voice fills my ears and I fight the urge not to throw my head back down on my bag, “Okay, this is gonna sound freaky but this totally hot guy just asked me to ask you if you're going to the dance tonight.”

I throw up a disgusted look as Elena laughs and Bonnies speaks up, “Tell him she has a boyfriend.”

“You could at least meet him. He’ll be at the dance tonight. Look for him. His name is Klaus.”

At the mention of Klaus, all three of us freeze up and a wave of nausea washes over me. 

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

“His name’s Klaus? I know the name stupid but I swear he’s hot.”

I’m frozen as Bonnie starts questioning Dana for his whereabouts. Then Bonnie enlightens us by saying Dana’s been compelled. 

“But he wants to know if you’ll save him the last dance. How cute is that?”

Oh shit. 

—

I sigh as I approach the front door to the Salvatore’s for the second time today. Elena called me a little while ago saying they were meeting there to talk strategy about tonight. I told her we should just use the Salvatore’s vampire money and get the hell out of dodge, but she didn’t agree with me. So here we are. I shove open the wooden door and look at the five figures already standing in the living room. Bonnie and Elena stand to one side of the room, opposite the Salvatore’s, and Ric stands at the end of the entryway. 

“Sorry I’m late,” I apologize to Elena as I come to stand next to Ric, “My brother needed to be dropped off at practice.”

“No worries, Ric just got here too,” Elena gestures to the man standing next to me and I slightly glare at him when I remember how he acted this morning. His eyebrows furrow slightly as he notices my unapproving look. I look away from him and walk down to sit on the sofa. 

“What’s our plan of attack,” Elena questions the group. I actually don’t understand why I’m here. I mean when Klaus comes for Elena the most I can do is probably make fun of his split ends or something like that. Without being supernatural there’s not much to do here. 

“Me,” Bonnie answers, “I’m the plan. He has no idea how much power I can channel. If you can find him. I can kill him.”

I fight the urge to say that this all could’ve been an email and I didn’t have to waste the gas money to get all the way over town since most of us don’t have generational wealth to fall back upon, but I fight my inner demons and stay quiet. 

“That’s not going to be easy,” Ric chimes up, “I mean, he is the biggest baddest vampire around.”

“Kinda sounds like someone has a crush,” I snarkily whisper under my breath but I must not have been quiet enough since Ric’s eyes flash towards me and for a moment his upper lip twitches but then falls back into a flat line and he looks away. 

“Alaric has a point. I mean, what if he,” I flinch backward as Damon is thrown across the room by Bonnie. I loud laugh escapes my lips and I slap my hand to my mouth to try to cover it. 

“Well, I was impressed,” Stefan says amused.

“I personally think you should try it again,” I say to Bonnie, “Y’know just to make sure you really know how to do it.”

Bonnie smirks at my suggestion and I hear Damon swear at me under his breath. 

“It doesn’t matter if he’s an Original. I can take down anyone who comes at me. I can kill him, Elena. I know I can.”

This really could’ve been an email. 

—

Another dance. Alone. God I have no game. 

I stare at myself in my hallway mirror and brush my fingers against the orange fabric of my dress. Because I didn’t plan on going to this dance, until this morning I didn’t have anything to wear, but after complaining about it to Stefan he dropped off one of his spares he had lying around in his attic about an hour ago. I don’t even want to know why he has a bunch of women’s dresses in different sizes in his attic. So I did not ask. And I don’t think I ever will. 

“Alright let’s get this show on the road, the ladies are waiting for me,” Theo’s voice comes from the living room as he adjusts his tie. My younger brother is dressed in a suit and tie that seriously needs to be ironed. 

“Where the hell did you even get that?”

At my question, Theo tenses up slightly, “It was in Dad’s things.”

At the mention of our father, we both go quiet, which is something Theo always seems to struggle with. I take a deep breath and shake my head away from the thoughts of him.

“Ok let’s go,” I try to fake a smile for Theo, “Wouldn’t want to leave your date waiting.”

Theo’s demeanor instantly changes as he smirks evilly, “Dates, plural my dear sister.”

I freeze and whip around to him and fight the urge to wring my little brother’s neck, “Please tell me you're not cheating on some poor girl.”

Theo raises his hands up, “Hell no, I’m a player, not a cheater! I’ve got morals,” He puts his hand on his heart as if I’ve insulted him, “These two girls asked me and I told them I can’t be held down by just one woman, so I told them I’d share myself for the night with them.”

I fight the urge to throw up on my brother, “How generous of you.”

Theo smirks at me as he opens the front door and gestures for me to exit, “You raised me right.”

—

Not even a minute after entering the gym, where the dance is being held, and Theo has already been swept away by his “dates.” God that kid is going to give me an early death. 

I glance around the gym staring at the masses of students all laughing, dancing, and having a great time and I envy how carefree they all appear. I’m about to be struck by a tone of self-pity when that sharp pain from before has me gripping my chest. I hunch over in pain and try to work through it by doing stupid breathing exercises my mom taught me, but the pain only gets harder to bear. I take a few steps so I can lean against the nearest table, and close my eyes trying to wait out the pain. What if I’m having a heart attack? Oh god, can someone my age even have heart attacks?

“Y/N what’s wrong, what happened,” A frantic voice comes from beside me and I turn my head slightly and open my eyes to see Ric hunched over next to me. His emotionless features from before are long gone and replaced by what almost looks like fear. God, do I look that bad?

“My chest,” Is all I’m able to breathe out as I point to the center of my chest where the pain is coming from. 

Alaric’s eyes go from my eyes to where I’m pointing and I could’ve sworn a look of realization flashed through them but it’s gone within a moment. Ric places his arm around my waist and he leads me to a nearby chair. He tells me to sit still for a moment and then he comes back with a glass of water. 

I shake my head and scoff because I know a simple glass of water isn’t going to do anything but Ric’s face flashes with annoyance and he grabs my left hand with his and puts the cup in it. He wraps my fingers around the cup and lifts it to my lips, “Drink. Now.” I sigh and go to argue but he uses that to send the water down my throat. The cool liquid goes down my throat and I swallow it harshly. After a moment Ric brings the cup down from my lips. I go to bitch at him only to realize that the pain is gone. What the hell? 

I begin to question if he added some supernatural magic juju to the water but he quickly drops my hand as if it were on fire, gives me a once over, and walks away without another word. What the actual hell? 

—

I let out a loud laugh as I dance with Caroline who swings me around as a slow song plays on the speaker.

“Keep up girl,” Caroline squeals as we go around in circles. Even though the couples around us are all shooting us dirty looks, Caroline who saw me sitting by myself 20 minutes ago and has made me dance with her ever since, doesn’t seem to care. Matt who is supposed to be her date left us to go get drinks so it left Caroline and I to slow dance to some old song. And I mean we did start out slow dancing, she lead of course, but then we just kind of kept spinning around faster and faster. So here we are laughing our asses off as she practically flings me around the dance floor. 

The song comes to a close and Caroline and I can’t stop laughing even as Dana takes the stage, “Hey everyone! I have a special shout-out to Elena, from Klaus.”

And no more laughing. 

I look through the crowd and spot Elena, Jeremy, Bonnie, Damon, and Stefan all standing in a circle glancing around the gym. Thankfully Matt comes back and I bid Caroline and him a farewell for now, ignoring Caroline’s “WTF” look she shoots me. 

Another slow song starts to play as I make my way through the crowd and fight a scream as I feel a hand grab mine and I’m pulled to someone's chest. I prepare for the worst but once I see who it is I just roll my eyes. 

“Oh, it’s just you,” I say to Damon who smirks down at me.

“Someone’s jumpy,” I roll my eyes at him and go to walk away when he pulls me back, “Dance with me.”

“I’d rather jump off a cliff, thank you very much.”

“Y/N, one dance,” I turn to look at Damon and try to find any evil intent in his look but am surprised to find none.

“Why,” I question him skeptically.

Damon slowly pulls me into him, puts his hand on my lower back, and raises his other for me to take, I glare at him as I slowly place my hand in his and he slowly starts to sway me to the music. 

“I’m only saying this because no one can overhear me, with the music playing,” I start to get frightened at what he’s about to say, “But, I’m sorry.” 

Holy shit. Maybe I did have a heart attack and am hallucinating now because I could’ve sworn THE Damon Salvawhore was apologizing. 

“What did you just say,” I ask amazed.

Damon just rolls his eyes and scoffs as he spins me around, “Don’t make it a big thing. And if you tell anyone I’ll deny it. But yes, I’m sorry.”

“For what? Calling me names?”

Damon shakes his head and makes a face as if that was a crazy suggestion, “No of course not. I will never give that up…I’m talking about the dinner party.”

At the mention of that night, I turn to stare at anywhere other than Damon, “I’ll always protect Elena and I don’t care who I have to kill to do that,” He pauses probably realizing his apology sucks ass, “But, I could’ve done it without you there. You didn’t need to see that. I know you and Elijah were friends or whatever,” I go to deny it but he stops me, “Don’t even try to deny it. I saw how you were with him. With everyone else, you’re more timid but with him,” He pauses, “I don’t know, you were just more comfortable, more you.”

Damon’s words hang in the air for a moment as we continue to sway to the music, “Does this mean…we’re friends now,” I look up to him with slight disgust and he sends me a smirk. 

“No way in hell, Pukerella.”

“Oh, thank god,” I say with a breath of relief. At that Damon lets out a huff of a laugh and for a moment I think I can see past the angry vampire facade he has going on and it makes me wonder just what happened to make him this way. The song comes to an end though and Damon’s hands drop from my back and hand, he goes to walk away but I call out to him. 

“Thank you for the apology,” Damon turns around and slightly nods, “You’re not that terrible for Hell’s gatekeeper.”

Damon’s deep laugh echoes through the gym as he walks away from me. And for a moment I let a small smile fall onto my face. That is until Elena comes rushing over to me with Bonnie in her grip.

“Y/N, come on,” And there goes the rest of the night I think to myself as I follow an angry Elena out of the high school and into the parking lot. Not quite sure why, but what the hell?

“How could you not tell me,” Elena questions Bonnie and I start to get even more confused, “No way, it’s not an option.”

“What’s not an option,” I chime in feeling like a little kid watching her parents argue. 

Elena turns to me, “If Bonnie channels all that power to kill Klaus, it’ll kill her too.”

At this new information, my eyes pretty much fly out of my head, “Seriously?! Bonnie, what the hell?”

“It’s our only option.”

“Then we’ll find another way, okay? Bonnie you’re not dying to save my life.”

“I agree, this is a suicide mission, Bonnie.”

“I have the power to save you! If I don’t use it and something happens that would kill me more.”

Elena shakes her head in denial, “I can’t let you.”

“Just answer one question…If this situation was reversed would you do it for me?”

Elena goes quiet and Bonnies has her answer, “So you know why I have to.”

“No, No!” Elena’s voice cracks and I feel a tear slide down my cheek at the realization that I’m going to lose my new friend. 

“Elena,” Alaric runs up to us and I quickly wipe away the loose tears. 

“What is it?”

“He has Jeremy,” Ric’s words have all three of us shaken.

“Yeah, Klaus has Jeremy. Come on,” He hurriedly gestures for us to follow him. Without a second thought, we run through the metal door and into the school. 

“Ok, so where are you taking us,” Elena hastily questions Alaric but as we run through the hall something in the back of my mind is telling me something isn’t right. 

“Just a little further,” Ric says but something in his tone makes me halt. 

“Wait,” My voice has all three of them stopping and I look wearily at Ric and he watches me carefully. 

“Ric,” I pause and realize that I’m about to sound crazy for even questioning Alaric, the same Alaric who has been nothing but good to all of us kids, until today at least, “How did you know Klaus took Jeremy?”

Ric stares at me and for a moment his face looks like he’s almost proud of me for questioning him, but then he just shrugs his shoulders, “Stefan told me.”

He turns around and starts walking some more but Elena, Bonnie, and I don’t follow him. They must’ve caught on to what I was feeling since they started questioning Ric themselves.

“Where’s Jeremy,” Bonnie yells to Ric and a chill runs up my spine as he lets out a long sigh.

“I just had to get away from that dance. The ’60s, ugh. Not my decade. I mean whose call was that, anyway? I much prefer the ’20s. You know, the styles, the parties, the jazz.”

I watch unnerved as Ric speaks as if he has no care in the world.

“Alaric,” Elena calls to him, “Are you on vervain?”

With every step Ric takes towards us, we take one away from him.

“Now why would you ask me that question, Elena?”

Bonnie stands in front of both of us and Elena pushes me to stand behind her, “He's being compelled.”

“Nope! Try again,” When Ric says this my eyes start to water at the realization. 

“That’s not Alaric,” I say which has “Alaric’’ sending me a satisfied look.

“I knew there must’ve been a reason he liked you,” “Alaric” almost bites out, “Well, except for the obvious reason.” 

I frown at what he says, confused about what the hell he’s talking about. 

“Who am I, Little one,” “Alaric,” asks me, and Bonnie and Elena look at me still confused.

“Klaus…You’re Klaus.”

“Bingo! Aren’t you a smart one!”

“No,” Elena shakes her head, “It’s not possible.”

“Just relax, Elena. I’m not here to hurt you. You’re not on my hit list tonight,” He shoots me a look, “Neither are you.”

Then he looks back to Bonnie, “But you are,” He runs towards Bonnie but she uses her powers to push him into a wall. I watch horrified as he gets back up.

“Now, did I mention that I know a witch? You’re gonna have to hit me a lot harder than that.”

Bonnie shoots him back again and just like before he gets back up, “By all means if you kill this body. I’ll just get a new one. Maybe Jeremy.”

Bonnie turns back to both of us and yells at us to go, all three of us sprint down the halls. Our heels squeaking on the newly washed floors. We run to the end of the hallway and Damon comes rushing towards us. 

“What happened?”

Elena is the first to speak, “Klaus is in Alaric’s body.”

“What?”

“He’s possessing it. Or something.” What has my life come to?

Damon turns to Elena and I, “Go find Stefan, Now!”

We nod and Elena grabs my hand as we run through the halls to find Stefan. 

We get to the gym and Elena and I frantically search around, we split up as we go to separate sides of the gym. How hard is it to find a bunny-eating vampire? Thankfully I get a glimpse of hero hair and I run up to him. At the sight of me, Stefan's eyebrows furrow, “What’s wrong?”

“No time to talk, teenage witch to save,” I grab his suit sleeve and drag him to where I see Elena talking with Caroline and Matt. Elena runs over to us and we drag Stefan out of the gym. 

We begin running but my breathing starts to get heavier and heavier, making me stop and clutch my chest. Not this again. Please not now!

“Y/N what’s wrong?”

Elena comes to my side but I push her away, “I’m fine you need to go help Bonnie,” She shares a look with Stefan who doesn’t look convinced that I’m ok.

“Go!”

They both nod and then take off. Once they turn the corner and are out of sight I drop to the floor and lean my back against the lockers. I fight back a cry as waves of pain wash through my entire body. Where before it was just my chest, now it feels like my entire body is breaking. 

Tears stream down my cheeks as a sharp pain hits my knee and a scream escapes my lips. I look down at it expecting it to be broken but visually nothing seems wrong. What the fuck is happening to me?!

After what feels like an hour I hear footsteps come down the hallway. With tear-stricken eyes, I glance up and see Stefan practically carrying a sobbing Elena. The latter practically dives for me once she sees I haven’t left my spot on the floor. I’m about to push her off since her body is pressing into my throbbing knee but what she sobs into my ear has me stopping.

“She’s dead! Bonnie’s dead,” Elena's shoulders shake as she pulls me tighter into a hug. My gaze looks up to Stefan who won’t meet my eyes and that’s all the confirmation I need for a sob to escape from my mouth. I wrap my sore arms around Elena and feed into the pain since it’s the only thing grounding me from processing what has happened. 

—

Elena and I sit wrapped in a blanket as we watch the fireplace in front of us. Elena’s sniffles are the only noise heard in the room. My crying stopped about 30 minutes ago and all I’ve been doing since is staring blankly at the orange flames. 

Stefan enters the room with two cups and he holds them out for us to take. Elena tells him she can’t, but I don’t even move my eyes from the fire. I can’t. I don’t want to drink whatever soothing tea he has, I want to watch something burn. Or someone, Klaus. I want to watch Klaus burn. 

From behind me I can hear the front door open and can only assume it’s Damon. I can hear Elena get up and start arguing with him but I don’t turn from my seat. The sound of a slap jolts me slightly from my stupor and I find myself turning slightly to hear better, but never fully taking my eyes away from the flames.

“You need to listen to me and prepare for what I’m about to say. Klaus was a total surprise. She wasn’t prepared for that. And he wasn’t going to stop and we weren’t going to be able to stop him until he knew she was dead. He had to believe it. She cast a spell. Bonnie’s okay.”

—

Bonnie’s okay. Bonnie’s okay. Bonnie’s okay. 

Damon’s words repeat in my mind as Elena and I sit in front of the laptop screen waiting. After another moment Bonnie’s face enters the frame and she smiles at us with tears in her eyes.

“Elena, Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Elena says with tears of her own and I smile at Bonnie.

“There wasn’t enough time to tell you,” Bonnie says with sobs that make my chest cave in.

“It’s okay, seriously. Damon explained it all.” 

The call ends shortly and Elena smiles at me happily, as she throws her arms over my shoulder and once again pulls me into a hug.

“She’s okay,” Her happy words should fill me up with feelings of bliss but as my gaze moves towards the dying embers the only feeling I have is anger. 

[jumexju]

SHAPE OF MY HEART

Pairing !! : Uchiha Madara / Fem Reader

Fic Type !! : Oneshot / Angst to Fluff / Hurt-Comfort

CW !! : Established relationship, Reader is a mother, Suggestive near the end but nothing 18+

Summary !! : After an argument due to Madara's inability to communicate, you try to prepare yourself for him to leave you ー only to find he's not leaving you.

Note !! : This man singlehandedly compelled me to write a 3k+ word fic, I might make this into a series tbh..

✦ MASTERLIST

‘I wish you’d try to communicate with me instead of just telling me not to worry!’ 

You winced as you recalled your words, the blanket over your frame failing to provide the comfort you needed. 

‘Not just for me, but for your children! They need you and you’re always gone — I know you’re busy but the least you could do is tell me what’s going on!’ 

The moonlight slipped in through the open door of the genkan. Madara hadn’t come home. In fact, your husband hadn’t been home for the last three nights in a row. He’s done this before — take some time for himself after an argument — but he’d usually never let you go to bed feeling anxious or worried. No, usually, Madara would force you to acknowledge his presence — even if you were mad. Sighing, you buried  your face into one of his shirts in an attempt to comfort yourself in the absence of the man you loved so much. You let another hour pass by before accepting that he wasn’t returning tonight either and choosing to try to get some sleep. 

The sun was the first to greet you when morning came. Its rays bathed everything it touched in its warmth — but it wasn’t comparable to the warmth you had grown attached to. Madara’s warmth was all you wanted, but you had to realize that he wasn’t your entire world anymore, not with your children now in the picture. You had to be strong if Madara was going to be gone for a long time — Sure, it was only four nights that he hadn’t been back home, but you’d be damned if you let his absence affect your kids in any way. “It’s not the end of the world,” you told yourself in an attempt to lift your spirits, a determined look on your face as you cleaned up the kitchen and prepared to make breakfast. 

“What isn’t?” Your eldest, Mahaira, rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he walked into the kitchen. 

You froze, turning around and smiling nervously as you put your hands up in defense, “Nothing ! I just realized that we don’t have any pork,”

Mahaira narrowed his eyes at you before yawning and greeting you with a hug, “Do you want me to go buy some later?” he offered, his voice sounding sleepy since he wasn’t really a morning person — Just one more thing he had in common with his father. 

“You’re always so helpful,” You squeezed the boy tightly, a bright smile on your face. “But no, you have some studying to do after school today. Your teacher tells me you’ve been skipping class.” You looked down at the thirteen year old, your eyebrow lifted as you saw his guilty expression. 

Mahaira frowned, “You found out?!” 

You smacked his shoulder playfully and crossed your arms with a smirk on your face, “Of course I did, I’m your mother — I find out everything, eventually.” 

Mahaira held his head down in defeat, “.. Are you going to tell dad?” He asked you, worried eyes peering up at you pleadingly. You only chuckled and ruffled his spiky black hair, out of all your kids, Mahaira was the one who resembled Madara the most. But of course, Uchiha genes were nothing to laugh at — They were strong as all hell, so it was no surprise that all your children looked like their father in one way or another.

“No — Not if you catch up on your studying, I won’t.” Mahaira’s face lit up, your heart warming at the sight of it. It was like seeing a mini Madara right in front of you. 

“Speaking of dad, where is he?” Mahaira looked around, realizing he hadn’t seen him as of late. 

You frowned, “.... He’s busy.” you looked away from your son, not wanting to face him. 

However, it seemed that he inherited his fathers sharp intuition. Mahaira’s black eyes narrowed at you before widening in realization. “He still hasn’t come home?? Jeez mom.. You should both just kiss and make up already.” Mahaira shook his head in faux disapproval, even crossing his arms to take it further. 

“Kiss and wha-!? Mahaira!” You stared at your son in surprise, heat rushing to your face. “Nevermind that, go wake up your sisters.. !” Mahaira snickered at your embarrassed expression and walked away to his sisters’ room smugly. You turned your attention back to the counter and cracked the eggs you’d brought out beforehand, whisked them in a bowl and poured them over the pan. Truthfully, you’d missed Madara. He’d always wake up before you, but he’d pretend to be asleep when you woke up just so he could feel your hands thread through his hair. Whenever you were cooking, he’d come up behind you and encase you in his arms.. Even if they were small actions, the fact that they came from him was all that mattered. 

You, like Madara, grew up in an era where you weren’t even sure you’d see your children unplagued by the stresses of war. Now, you even got to see your kids all in one piece, together. All thanks to him.. Slowly, you found your mind trying to go back to thinking about your husband — But how were you to stop it? He was your husband, the father of your children.. How could you not think about him when he was away? It was an almost impossible task. But you knew you had to go on and wait for him, like you always did. After eating omelets with your kids, you sent Mahaira off to school. His two sisters, Mizuna and Mitsumi, would have to stay with you since they were still too young to go to the academy. If they were anything like their older brother, they’d be a handful once they got older. But you didn’t mind, as long as they grew up to be fine, respectable people. 

“Mama, what are you making tonight?” Mizuna looked up at you as you held her and her twin sister by the hand while the three of you walked around the market, a bright smile on their faces. 

“Mm.. I was thinking of pork cutlet,” you looked down at the twins, Mizuna’s eyes lighting up as she thought about the savory meal while she looked at the rows of different oils and spices on display. “We just need to get the pork and some oil and we’ll be set, okay?” The twins nodded and stood near the stall while they waited for you to pay for the oil, or at least, they tried to stay near you. However, when they saw the unmistakable mane of long black hair that so obviously belonged to their father, they couldn’t stay still. 

“Papa!” The girls called out before running to their father despite the very obvious guilt shown through your expression. Madara’s eyes widened in surprise as he laid his eyes upon you — but only for a short moment before he leaned down and picked up his 6 year old child, perching Mizuna up on his shoulders. His gloved hands rubbed Mitsumi’s back in acknowledgement as she hugged him. You looked away before he could see the pained look on your face and thanked the seller before begrudgingly walking over to the man who’d been occupying your mind for the past week. Mitsumi looked up at you and raised her arms up, her way of signaling for you to pick her up. You smiled and did as she asked, securing her on your hip before facing your husband. 

“...” 

“...” 

“Papa,” Madara glanced at Mitsumi, “Mama said she was gonna make pork cutlet today!” Mitsumi smiled brightly at her father, you could tell that she had missed Madara as much as you had when you saw her face. Madara looked back at you, despite how things were between the two of you, heat still rushed up to your face when his eyes met yours. 

“Is that so?” He sounded interested, but maybe that was because he was talking to his daughter and he wanted to hide the way that things were between the two of you. You only nodded in response. 

“.. Will you be home for dinner?” you asked the Uchiha as you tried to avoid his oh so beautiful eyes by fixing a piece of Mitsumi’s hair behind her ear. 

“Mm.” Madara was observant as ever. Unfortunately for you, he saw the guilt on your face no matter how much you tried to hide it. Madara wished to extinguish such anxiety from your features, but he knew it was probably due to his absence that you even felt that way. It was his fault for disappearing, no, avoiding you for five days in a row — almost a whole week. If you had been looking at him for a bit longer, maybe you would have seen how his gaze softened when he first saw you. “Yes, .. I’ll be home for dinner.” He told you, a small smile tugging at his lips. You looked up at him and you swear you could tear up just hearing those five words. Madara felt his heart warm at the sight of your relieved expression. It took you a while to snap back to reality and register that he was actually going to be home tonight. 

“O.. Oh.” You blinked, “Okay, then.. I should get going. You’re probably busy.” You bashfully looked away, putting Mitsumi back down so you could carry her sister after Madara had taken her off his shoulders and given her to you. 

Mizuna tugged at her father’s mantle, “Papa you better not be late..!” She warned. 

“Yeah! Mama gets really sad!” Mitsumi crossed her arms and looked at her father with determination. Madara blinked, he was surprised by this admission. 

You looked down at Mitsumi, embarrassed that Mitsumi just put you in a vulnerable position, “That’s not true- I do not get sad!” You tried to salvage your self-image, but unfortunately your efforts were in vain. 

“Do too!” Mizuna chimed in, determined to help her sister prove you wrong. 

“Do not!” 

“Do too!” They both said at the same time. You could feel your face getting hotter the more Madara witnessed this exchange. But it brought him nothing short of genuine happiness. You continued trying to win the argument with your children ( and failing ) until you heard Madara chuckle at the interaction. 

“Does mama really get sad when i’m not around, Mizuna?” He petted his daughter's hair as he asked this, as if to reward her for unknowingly giving this information away.

“Yes!” 

“No!” you objected. Madara only laughed some more — It was one of the things you’d missed hearing. If only you knew how much Madara missed you too. He didn’t know why he had been so reluctant to tell you that you were right, but he knew he didn’t want it to damage his marriage. He loved you too much to leave you, he hoped you knew that. You sighed in defeat and rubbed your neck, “You two are horrible liars.” 

“Lying is bad, Mama.” Mizuna shook her head in disapproval. 

“Yeah, Mama, lying is bad.” Madara repeated, smirking at your defeat. You stared at him unamused, “You better not be late.” You warned, trying to hide a smile before holding Mizuna’s hand. You were going to pick up the bag of groceries that you’d laid at your side before the whole interaction, but Madara took your hand in his — Forcing you to look him in the eye. He came close to you and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you waiting anymore.” 

“Mom? You seem awfully happy…… What happened?” Mahaira asked as he tied his hair up into a low ponytail and greeted you with a hug and a kiss on your cheek. 

You lifted a brow at your son, a sly smirk on your face, “Do I need a reason to be happy?” 

“You know that’s not what I meant..” Mahaira protested at your accusation. He could sense you were in better spirits than when he last saw you this morning. However, you only ruffled his hair and snickered. “Nothing happened, Mahaira. Go wash your hands, it’s almost time for dinner.” You sent him out of the kitchen before calling your twin daughters to help you set up the table. It was as soon as Mizuna had placed the last plate that you all heard a knock on the door, your heart beat only got faster. Mahaira walked down the hall and smiled once he saw his father walk through the door. “Dad! You’re here..!” It was as if Madara was a magnet of some sort because as soon as Mahaira said this, Mizuna and Mitsumi raced to the door. You heard a hard Thump! and rushed to see what had happened, chuckling once you had seen what took place. 

It was Madara on the floor, tackled by his two twin daughters who were eagerly hugging him. “The Great Madara Uchiha brought down by his own children? Now there’s a sight I never thought I’d see.” You snickered as you looked down at your husband who was now sitting up and holding Mizuna and Mitsumi at his sides. You offered a hand to help him up but yelped once he tugged you forward, causing you to land on top of him. “Hey-! Madara, you- Mmph!” You grunted as you fell on him. 

“If I go down, you go down with me.” He snickered as he gazed down at you. Your knees were on either side of his thighs, you were currently holding onto his shoulders so that you wouldn’t completely fall on him again. He couldn’t lie, he missed you being close to him. You always radiated a warmth he didn’t know he needed. 

“Is that so?” you lifted a brow at him, a smirk on your face as you giggled when he greeted you with a kiss on your forehead. You were going to kiss him before Mahaira spoke up and interrupted, 

“Get a room, you two!” Madara and you looked at each other before laughing at your son’s reaction, deciding to save that kiss for later. You got up off of your husband and offered him a hand to help him up. He followed behind you, a subtle smile on his face as he looked down at his hand in yours, he didn’t fail to notice a chip in the nail polish you wore — He was ever the observant man. During dinner, you two avoided talking about the elephant in the room so as to not give your kids anything to worry about — But you both knew that you had to talk sooner or later. For now, you’d enjoy having your family together once again. Seeing your kids’ interactions with their father just warmed your heart even more, you weren’t sure if you could handle him leaving — If that’s what he wanted to do. Though, you doubted that line of thought since he was actually here, since.. he wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t thinking about mending things with you.. Right? You thanked Mahaira for washing his plate and ruffled his hair before sending him off to bed, the twins following suit. 

“So..” You tried to begin the conversation, but what were you supposed to say? Madara came up next to you, drying the dishes you washed and putting them in their place. He seemed calm, but when wasn’t he? You rarely ever see him lose his composure now that the Uchiha and the Senju weren’t at war anymore. You tried to find the words, but there wasn’t anything you could really say. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You blinked a couple times before you turned to your husband. He was already looking at you. “You..” you were at a loss for words. He was sorry? But what for? 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to talk to you sooner.” He clarified. “I needed some time.. To think about what you said-” 

“You’re not leaving me?” you interrupted him. He seemed confused at what you had said. 

“Leaving you? Why would I leave you?” He crossed his arms as he looked down at you in confusion. 

“Well- I thought that you were- uhm..” You felt incredibly stupid just now. 

Madara came close to you and cupped your cheek in his calloused hand, “I wouldn’t leave you over a small fight, _____.” 

You looked away, avoiding his stare. “You were gone for a week- I thought that you were planning to leave me..” you admitted quietly. Madara was frustrated that this was what his absence had led you to believe. Yes, it was a nasty fight that the two of you got into, but after being with you for fifteen years, he thought that you would know that he wouldn’t leave you over something as small as this. Without so much as a thought, he pulled you close and wrapped his arms around you. 

“You’re my wife, and the mother of my children. Don’t you ever think that I would leave you over a petty argument such as that.” He said it as if it was a demand, but he only meant to assure you that He would be with you until the end of time. He felt your hands grip his shirt, his heart breaking when he heard your uneven breathing. You pulled away a little to wipe your eyes, but he beat you to it, a fond smile on his face as he wiped your tears away with his thumb, “You were right about what you said.. I don’t want to miss out on their childhood — I want to be there for them, and for you.” He told you softly — A tone he rarely used with anyone else but you —  as he looked you in the eye. “I’ll try to be around more, okay?” 

You nodded before sheepishly glancing away from him, “I’m sorry for having yelled at you, by the way..” 

“It’s alright, I need that.” He admitted with a small smile, “You deserve to know what’s going on, I shouldn’t have made you worry.” 

You smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “I understand that you find it hard to express yourself — But know that you can rely on me, okay? ..I love you.” You smiled warmly at him, you hated that he kept things to himself, but what else could you do but support him? If he needed someone to wait for him until he was ready, you sure as hell were going to do just that. 

“I’ll try to.” He assured you before placing a piece of your hair behind your ear. 

 “I missed you a lot y’know,” you told him as the both of you walked to your room, hand in hand. 

“I missed you as well,” He said with a small smile as he followed after you. “It was a little annoying in actuality, I couldn’t go a minute without thinking about you.” 

“How romantic,” You chuckled sarcastically before getting under the sheets. They felt softer now that Madara was with you — if that was even possible. He settled underneath the sheets with you, his arm coming around your figure, making it so that your head rested against his chest. You splayed your arm across his stomach, tracing the scar on his left side as you nuzzled into him. You finally had your husband back, ..he was finally here with you. Right as soon as you were getting comfortable with the position you were in, Madara turned so that he was facing you, kissing your forehead, then your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips. You giggled at his sudden display of affection, “Jeez, did you really miss me that much?” you teased. 

He smirked, “I missed you a lot more actually,” he said before swiftly switching your positions so now you were underneath him, his hands intertwined with yours. You could feel the heat rushing to your face as you looked up at him, his black hair draping around the sides of his face. “Really?” You lifted a brow at him, a playful smirk on your face. 

“Of course,” he leaned down and adorned your neck in butterfly kisses. Madara was a rugged man, but he knew just how to make your heart melt. He planted kisses on your jaw before facing you once more.  “Care to make up for lost time?”

[thegnomelord]

if you write a thing about the creaming the zussy i will kiss ur boots

The boots better be shining when you're done.

How To Cure Zombies 101

CW:NSFW MDNI, crackfic obv PiV sex, TLOU Clicker trans Ghost, Top Male Reader, established relationship, happy ending, dub-con because Simon consented before he got bit but reader is apprehensive, zombie sex (does it count as necro?) how does this work? idk porn logic. Don't ask me how this happened, i hope this doesn't become what my blog becomes known for.

When the Cordyceps spread across the planet and turned millions of people into shambling mushroom infested undead, the world ended.

When Simon got bitten. . . your world ended.

You still remember it like it had been yesterday; He came back bloody, an empty look in his eyes as he showed you the bite on his arm. Your hands shook as he wrapped them around the grip of the gun and aimed it at his head. You both ended up on the floor with you crying into his chest, unable to pull the trigger.

You remember the resigned look in his eyes when he had agreed to let you do whatever you needed to him to cure him, but both of you knew there was no way, what made you immune to the fungus was as mysterious to the rest of the world as it was for you. His lips had been burning hot when he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, the last sense of warmth you've felt since the docs took him to where they kept the infected for study, your heart leaving with him.

And now?

Now the scientists that have been prodding you like a lab rat since Simon got bitten nearly a year ago say they have a way to bring his mind back, to get Simon back.

And the way to do it?

"So let me get this straight?" You begin, your voice tense, your body even tenser. "You want me to fuck the corpse of my lover? And that will cure him?"

That. You're not sure how the eggheads arrived to this conclusion, frankly all of their scientific jargons had flown over your head. All you understood was that the man you had fallen since the first time you met him could be brought back.

You sincerely hope you won't make some type of super fungus through this.

Words can't describe what you feel as you look at Simon's (is it even Simon?) bound body writhing on the gyno chair, naked and bare to you. You doubt you even know what you feel, hope and fear simultaneously curling in your stomach— You hadn't had the courage to look at him ever since the scientists took him away; The harsh laboratory lights make it easy to see the mycelium filling his veins beneath the ashy pale skin, mushroom caps growing beneath his pecs and across all other scars he has. Red and yellow mushrooms have eaten away his nose and spread out to follow the contours of his face, growing in a way that makes the mushroom caps blend together into a skull shape.

Your heart aches when you see his eyes haven't been eaten away yet, the once deep brown turned milky white and staring lifelessly past you, thrashing about in the bindings, rotten teeth gnawing on the ball gag in his mouth, small hisses and malformed muffled clicks echoing through the room.

You try to look down and you stop at his stomach, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly because your heart is beating so fast it feels like you'll have a panic attack. You have no idea if this will work and doing this to Simon only to find out it's as useless as all your previous attempts to cure him. . . you're sure it would break you. Closing your eyes and counting to ten you will yourself to focus, your eyes opening slowly and following the trail of little mushroom caps down to his groin.

It's not what you expected., but it's. . . a lot; Mushroom caps have replaced the lips of his cunt, similar to the hard growths on his head but these look thinner and longer, almost like flower petals framing his cunt, bright red at the corners and getting progressively lighter as it nears his hole. A sort of morbid curiosity compels you to reach out brushing your fingertips against the caps. They're surprisingly softer than you had expected, smooth and slick with some kind of slime. You can't help but notice how a longer stalked mushroom grows from what had been his clit.

You jerk your hand back when a second brush of your fingers makes his body to jerk back and attempt to fight against the restraints, more angry clicks vibrating his throat.

But you also notice a kind of… sweet scent in the air and it's coming from him. Cautiously you brush against the caps again, slowly dipping your fingers under to touch the gills underneath. You keep your hand where it is when he thrashes again, but you're certain that smell is stronger now, and you catch the glimpse of clear viscous slick slowly leak from his hole.

Carefully you push a finger into his hole in an attempt to stretch him out. Logically you know that he probably doesn't feel it, but it feels wrong to just stick your cock in him; He's cold. You know he's dead but you had held out some hope that he would be warmer, that there would be some signs of life despite how stupid that sounds.

He's dry right now, but more of that clear fluid seeps around your fingers and lubes the way as you experimentally push your finger all the way up to the last knuckle, and you felt his muscles flutter around you, clenching down as if trying to draw you in deeper. His head continued to thrash around, no change in the feral behavior, but you still try to be gentle, pushing one then two fingers in and slowly scissoring him open.

You pull your fingers out when his hole has relaxed enough to let you easily slide your fingers in and out, and he's produced enough slick to completely drench your hand. You try to look at him as you press your cock against his fluttering hole, but the sight of his milky eyes almost makes you soft on the spot so you screw your eyes closed and slowly slide in.

Despite how cold and wet his cunt is, you haven't felt anyone's touch, even your own, since he got infected, and a part of you feels disgusted at how a bit of pleasure traces up your spine. He continues to hiss and click as you bottom out, his hips bucking wildly you have to press them down. You set a slower pace than you're used to, keeping your thrusts even and consistent, afraid to tear anything but your fear is seemingly misplaced. He's so much wetter than he'd ever get before he got infected, slick wetly squelching as you bottom out over and over again, clicks and snarls accompanying every move you make.

You're ashamed to say you don't last long. Fuck, is he tight you've been ignoring your body for so long that when you accidentally brush against the stalk growing from his clit and his cunt suddenly tightens up like a vice you cum on the spot, your hips doing little minute twitches as you empty so much of your cum in his cunt that your balls hurt. You pull out just as slowly, both of your mixed fluids leaking out and almost getting caught by the soft mushrooms framing his hole.

You muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, and your heart breaks when his lifeless eyes blindly stare back at you.

You feel like a fool when the first time doesn't work, he's still just a body pupated by a fungus. And you feel like an even bigger fool when you agree to do this a second time.

But the third time. . .

You don't know if it's just wishful thinking but he seems more. . . alert. His head always follows you when you approach him but now his milky eyes almost seem to be looking at your face instead of staring straight through you. He's strangely still on the chair, teeth gnawing on the ball gag but he doesn't try to get out of the restraints.

He doesn't screech when you gently caress the soft outer mushroom caps framing his cunt, instead his chest vibrates with more deep clicks. Nor does he start to wildly writhe on the chair when you slowly sink a finger into his cunt, finding it's already wet with slick. If anything he almost seems to chase(more like stumble) after the sensation, his hips doing small little movements to push your finger deeper into him.

Emboldened by childish hope you do something you hadn't before and reach with your other hand to slowly trace the long stalk of the clitshroom (not a term you coined), before rubbing the base of the cap like you would your own cock.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the gentle pressure of your fingers makes him buck into your hands and let out an ear-piercing screech that the gag has trouble muffling. You pull your hands away and that worsens the problem, the shrieking turning into literal chest rumbling snarls as Simon starts to struggle against the bindings.

Panic rushing down your system you put your hands were they were, gently stroking the 2 inch long mushroom growing from his clit. His hips buck up to chase after your hand, the snarls reverting back into shrieks, but as you stroke him longer they gradually die down to low pitched clicks and whistles. You're stumped; the clicks sound a lot like a cat's puff, his hole fluttering and clenching around your fingers as you slowly push them inside.

He's warmer now, not quite how he was before, but not cold as a corpse either. You know that you've gone completely mad by the fact he starts to gyrate his hips— grinding down just as you get knuckles deep so your fingers can brush against the sensitive spots inside him — makes your mind think that it's a bit of your Simon coming back.

You shake your head and pull your hands away, taking hold of his trembling thighs. You're greeted with another deep snarl but he quiets down immediately when you start to slowly push into him. He feels even tighter now, and you watch how his head falls back on the headrest, a long series of low clicks and whistles squirming past the gag.

His hips move to meet your slow thrusts, tight warm walls squeezing down every time you attempt to pull out just like he used to do. And that thought has your body increasing the pace automatically, your balls slapping against his ass, every sharp thrust hitting something spongy inside him and drawing out a sharp click, the rough pace leaving you panting.

Mindlessly you look up, too caught up in the moment remembering how Simon loved eye contact to remember the situation you're in.

He's looking straight at you.

You halt mid thrust, the low hiss he lets out falling on deaf ears as you tilt your head to the side. You're not insane, his eyes follow you. They're still milky, but they don't look through you. He's looking at you.

Another rough clicking sound leaves him and he thrusts his hips down against yours with enough strength to bruise, almost impatient. Despite how stupid it is you reach out and quickly unbuckle the gag with trembling fingers. "Si?" You say, unable to hide the hope in your voice. "Are you there?" You lean over him, looking hopefully into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

His jaw moves like he's munching on a survivor, but all that leaves his mouth are more clicks and rough grunts.

Fuck. You are a fool.

A sob tears through your chest before you can stop it, ducking your head down to lay it on his chest. You're unable to keep the fresh tears from falling on him, watering the damned mushrooms that had taken him from you. You can't stop the sobs from coming, your back bowed and shoulders shaking as you cry just as much as the day you first lost him.

His chest vibrates with another long series of clicks and whistles, just pouring salt on the gaping would in your chest.

Your name rights through the room.

It's scratchy, rough, almost incomprehensible to your ears, but it's your name.

You look up so quickly you almost snap his neck. "Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. "Are you in there?" You slowly reach out to hold his face, careful not to cut your hands on the sharp mushroom caps along his cheeks.

He looks at you back, jaw moving still, but he doesn't try to bite the flesh of your palms despite your hands being right there. "Ckckck-" He clicks, pupils going from pinpricks to blown out, "Ckckrkck- Mo- ckck-ve." He manages, a thrust of his hips accompanying the order.

Your heart leaps to your throat and you can do nothing but follow it, sliding one hand down to dig your nails into his thigh, looming over him as you pull out until only the head is inside and them slam into him that there's an audible clap of skin on skin as you bottom out. A half shriek half click half "Yes!" escapes him as he throws his head back, slack jawed.

A whole range of noises escapes him as you hammer into him with all you've got, one hand remaining always on his face. You can feel him getting hotter the longer you pound into him, body shaking as each thrust nails his sensitive spot. He gets progressively tighter and tighter as you fuck into him, and you let go of his thigh to carefully strike along the long shaft of the clitshroom.

He shrieks at the top of his lungs and his cunt clenches down on you like a vice, fluttering around you and gripping your cock like it doesn't want you to pull out. It pulls you into an orgasm,

"Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. He's too silent compared to how vocal he had been a few moments ago. "Are you in there?"

His head rolls a bit, peering at you through through his lashes, tongue moving heavily in his mouth and lips twitching up into a soft of barely-there grin. "Cckck- l- ckckc- love- ckrk-you -ckkckrkckck-"

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

[harryssyndrome]

Darkness and You | h.s

summery: a late night drive takes an unexpected turn when an handsome stranger takes his place in your passenger seat.

wc: 5.3k || 🌕🌖🌗🌘 Masterlist 🌒🌓🌔🌕

WARNING ⚠️ sexual references, mention of unprotected sex. MINORS DNI! you’re responsible for your own consumption, don’t blame me later. It’s your own choice.

Posted on: November 25th, 2024

Tag-List: @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 || TAGLIST IS OPEN!

Surprise lovelies! The first part from serial-killer!Harry series is here and I really hope you enjoy it. 😌 let me know how was it and if you have any ideas for other parts, I just might post some more this week itself. this is my first ever try at writing 18+ stuff tho it’s not really much so I hope it didn’t suck🤭😳 REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

You don’t do this. Any of this. You don’t pick up hitchhikers in the middle of the night. Especially men.

You’ve seen a lot of horror movies and you’ve heard a ton of news stories.

You’re not five. You know what you should and what you shouldn’t do. But you’ve made an array of bad choices tonight so why not continue it?

You don’t know what it was but something compelled you to pull over.

The boy with the curls and those deep green eyes, gets into the passenger seat, a grateful smile on his face. He looks sweet, to be honest.

“Oh, thank you so so much. I’ve been out here for so long. My car just gave out on me and there’s no signal in this shithole.” He says, his English accent very evident as he adjusts his seatbelt. “May I know my saviour’s name?” He asks with a smiles that shows a pair of dimples.

The air is thick with the quiet hum of the engine, and your fingers clench the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. You’re not sure if it’s the cold seeping into the car or the nervous energy building in your chest. Something about this feels surreal, like stepping into a scene you’d only watch from the safety of your couch. Yet, here you are, with a stranger in the passenger seat and an unspoken weight hanging between you.

“Uh, YN,” you reply, your voice more hesitant than you’d like. His accent catches you off guard again, so polished and charming it almost makes you forget the unease simmering below the surface. Almost.

“YN,” he repeats, letting your name roll off his tongue like he’s testing its sound. “That’s a lovely name. I’m Harry.”

Harry. It suits him somehow. Still, you can’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His curls are messy, probably from standing in the cold too long, and his coat looks worn, but there’s a warmth to him. Those green eyes, so striking, carry a sense of ease—like he’s the last person in the world you should be afraid of.

Still, you’re not stupid. Sweet smiles and dimples don’t guarantee safety.

“So… where are you headed?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral while silently calculating how far you are from the nearest gas station or town. Somewhere with people. Witnesses.

He exhales, the sound almost a laugh. “Honestly? Just anywhere away from here.” He runs a hand through his curls, shaking his head. “My car decided to betray me in the middle of nowhere. Tried to call for help, but of course, there’s no signal. Classic, right?”

You manage a small laugh, though it feels forced. Your instincts are at war—one side whispering that this guy is harmless, the other screaming at you for stopping in the first place.

“Well,” you say, trying to sound composed, “you got lucky I came by. Not a lot of cars out tonight.”

“Not a lot of kind people either,” Harry adds, his voice softer now. “I was starting to think I’d be out there all night.”

His words linger in the air, and for a moment, you feel a pang of guilt. Maybe he’s just another unlucky soul, stranded and hoping for a break. Maybe you’re overthinking this. Or maybe this is exactly how every cautionary tale starts.

“So, YN,” Harry says, breaking the silence again. His tone is light, conversational, as if this is the most normal thing in the world. “What’s a girl like you doing out here at this hour? Don’t tell me you’re running away from something, too.”

The question catches you off guard, and your grip on the wheel tightens. “No,” you reply quickly, a little too defensively. “Just… a long drive. Needed to clear my head.”

He hums in acknowledgment, not pushing further, and you feel a flicker of relief. He leans back in his seat, letting his head rest against the window. For a moment, you think he’s going to drift off, but then he glances at you again, his eyes almost piercing in their intensity.

“You’ve got this look,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Like you’re carrying the weight of the world.”

You don’t respond right away, unsure how to take that. “You’ve known me for all of five minutes,” you finally say, trying to deflect with a weak smile. “Bit of a bold assumption, don’t you think?”

He chuckles softly. “Maybe. But I’m pretty good at reading people.”

The car falls into a strange silence again, and you can feel his gaze shift back to the window. There’s something about him—something you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s not just the way he talks or the way he looks at you. It’s the way he feels out of place, like he belongs in a story that hasn’t been written yet.

And for reasons you can’t explain, you let yourself keep driving.

There was some reason he can’t take his eyes off of you, almost as if you’re a rare piece of art he couldn’t help but admire.

“You always pick up handsome strangers in the middle of the night?” He teases with a cheeky smirk on his features.

You glance over at him, briefly, before focusing back on the road. The way his smirk lingers, paired with those dimples, feels both disarming and maddeningly charming. “Not usually,” you reply, your tone even, though you’re acutely aware of his gaze on you. “Just the ones who look like they’ve had a rough night.”

He laughs at that, the sound soft and warm, filling the small space of the car. “Lucky me, then,” he says, his accent turning the words into something smoother, like they carry more weight than they should. “Although, I think the luck might be yours. How often do you get to share a car with a proper English gentleman?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “English gentleman, huh? You sound like a guy who gives himself that title. Let me guess, you also drink tea at every opportunity and say ‘cheerio’ unironically?”

His hand flies to his chest in mock offense, and he lets out a dramatic gasp. “Cheerio? Absolutely not. What do you take me for, a walking British stereotype?”

“Maybe,” you shoot back, your tone playful now. “I mean, you did say your car ‘gave out,’ and who even says that anymore?”

He chuckles again, his head tilting slightly as he studies you. “Fair enough. But for the record, I’m more of a coffee guy. And I don’t say ‘cheerio.’” His smirk returns, softer this time, as he adds, “I think you might be the first person to question my gentleman status, though. Most people just take one look at me and assume I’m… irresistible.”

You snort, trying to stifle your laugh. “Irresistible? You really do think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” he quips, his voice teasing but not cocky. His gaze lingers again, softer now, almost contemplative. “But I’m serious. You’ve got this… way about you. Like you’re completely unimpressed by people like me, and I can’t decide if it’s refreshing or terrifying.”

That catches you off guard, and you shift in your seat, the smile slipping from your face just a little. “People like you?”

He shrugs, the smirk still lingering but now tinged with something deeper. “You know, the ones who talk too much, crack jokes, try to charm their way through life. The ones who should be lucky just to share the same space as someone like you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, a mix of unease and flattery you’re not quite sure how to handle. You keep your eyes on the road, focusing on the distant glow of headlights in the distance. “You’ve got a lot of opinions for someone who just met me.”

“Maybe,” he admits, leaning back in his seat and letting his gaze wander out the window. “But you can tell a lot about someone in five minutes. Like how you’ve got this look in your eyes, like you’re constantly bracing for something to go wrong.”

You freeze for just a moment, his words hitting closer to home than you’d like. “You’re imagining things,” you say quickly, brushing it off with a casualness you don’t really feel.

“Maybe I am,” he replies, his voice low and calm, like he doesn’t quite believe you but won’t push. After a moment, he adds, almost to himself, “But for some reason, I can’t stop looking at you. It’s like… you’re a puzzle, and I can’t figure out the edges.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you settle for silence, the tension in the car shifting to something strange and unspoken. Outside, the road stretches endlessly ahead, the darkness pressing in on both sides. And for the first time since picking him up, you wonder if you’re the one being read, the layers of your carefully built armor peeling away under the weight of those deep green eyes.

Harry leans back in his seat, one hand resting casually on his knee as he studies you. His gaze, though soft, feels weighted—like he’s trying to peel back layers you didn’t even know you were wearing. After a beat of silence, he speaks, his voice low and curious.

“Can I ask you something, YN?” he says, his tone gentle, almost disarming.

You glance at him briefly before focusing back on the road. “Sure,” you reply, though the way he says your name sends a faint chill up your spine.

“Aren’t you scared?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “Picking up a male stranger in the middle of the night? Alone? I mean, you said it yourself—this isn’t exactly normal behavior.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, his words triggering the voice of reason that’s been screaming at you ever since you stopped the car. Your fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and you force a small laugh. “A little,” you admit, though your voice wavers slightly. “But you don’t seem like the scary type.”

Harry’s lips curl into a smile, one that’s almost too perfect—dimples and all. “Well, I promise you, I’m not some sort of serial killer,” he says lightly, his tone almost playful. “Scout’s honor.”

Something about his phrasing makes you laugh, and the tension in your chest eases—if only slightly. “Isn’t that exactly what all serial killers say in the movies?” you tease, glancing at him briefly with a raised brow.

Harry’s smile widens, but there’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—a shadow of a thought you can’t quite catch. “Touché,” he says, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze never leaves you, as though he’s memorizing every detail of your face. “I suppose it would be the perfect cover, wouldn’t it? A smile, a little charm… make yourself seem harmless enough, and no one suspects a thing.”

The way he says it sends a ripple of unease through you, and the playful smirk he wears only deepens the strange knot in your stomach. You force yourself to stay calm, trying to brush it off. “That’s… a little creepy, don’t you think?” you reply, half-joking.

Harry chuckles softly, the sound low and almost hypnotic. “Maybe. But if I were a killer, wouldn’t I have already done something by now? You’ve got me here, alone, no witnesses. Seems like the perfect opportunity, doesn’t it?”

Your heart skips a beat, and your hands grip the wheel tighter, your knuckles whitening. His voice is still light, teasing, but there’s an undercurrent to his words that you can’t quite place. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to gauge whether he’s just messing with you or if there’s something darker lurking beneath the surface.

“And yet,” he continues, his tone softening again, “here I am, just a guy stranded on the side of the road, grateful for the kindness of a beautiful stranger.”

Your throat feels dry as you swallow hard, forcing yourself to respond. “Well, for your sake—and mine—I hope you’re telling the truth.”

He lets out another soft laugh, leaning back against the seat again. “Of course I am,” he says smoothly. But there’s something about the way he says it—like he knows more than he’s letting on. Like he’s enjoying this moment a little too much.

The road stretches on in front of you, the darkness pressing in from all sides, and for the first time, you start to wonder if stopping for Harry was the worst decision you’ve ever made. Because while his smile is charming and his voice is calm, there’s something about him that feels off. Like the quiet before a storm.

Harry shifts in his seat, his gaze flicking to you every so often, like he’s studying the curve of your profile, the way your fingers tap the wheel, the faint crease in your brow as you concentrate on the dark road ahead. The hum of the engine and the soft patter of the tires on asphalt are the only sounds filling the car now, a strange kind of peace settling between you two.

“How far’s the city?” he asks casually, breaking the quiet, his voice smooth and easy, though there’s a strange undertone to it—like he already knows the answer but wants to hear you say it.

You glance at the dashboard clock before replying, “Probably around three hours. Give or take.”

Harry lets out a soft hum, leaning back in his seat, his head tilting toward you as though drawn by some invisible force. Three hours. Three uninterrupted hours with you. It’s enough to make his heart race.

He lets the silence return, but his thoughts are anything but quiet. His mind is a storm of emotions and desires—chaotic, consuming, and entirely focused on you. There’s something about you that’s different. It’s not just the way you look, though your beauty feels like something out of a dream. It’s the way you hold yourself, the sharpness in your wit, the vulnerability you try to mask but can’t fully hide. You’re magnetic in a way he can’t explain, and the more he sits beside you, the deeper his obsession grows.

He watches the soft glow of the dashboard lights reflect off your face, highlighting your cheekbones and the curve of your jaw. He wonders what it would feel like to trace that line with his fingers. To know the softness of your skin. To see you look at him not with the occasional suspicion that flashes in your eyes but with trust. Admiration. Love.

His thoughts spiral, wild and untamed, as his gaze lingers on you. What would it take for you to see him the way he already sees you? Would you ever understand how special you are? How perfect this moment is? You were meant to find him tonight—he’s sure of it. The universe wouldn’t have aligned so perfectly otherwise.

His fingers twitch, his desire to reach out, to touch you, almost overwhelming. But no, not yet. He has time. Three hours to savor this moment, to bask in the glow of your presence, to solidify the bond he’s convinced you’re destined to share.

You’re unaware of the storm raging in his mind, the way his chest tightens with every glance at you. You think the silence is peaceful, and in a way, it is—for you. For Harry, it’s intoxicating. Maddening.

He forces himself to take a steady breath, his fingers curling into his palms as he tries to calm the fire within him. He doesn’t want to scare you, not yet. You’re like a delicate thread, and if he pulls too hard, you might snap.

So, he keeps his voice soft, his demeanor calm, though his thoughts are anything but. He smiles to himself, a small, secret smile, as he stares out the window at the endless darkness. You have no idea, he thinks, how utterly and completely you’ve captured him.

And he plans to make sure you never get away.

As the silence stretches between you, Harry's mind spirals further into chaos. He shifts again in his seat, the seatbelt digging into his chest as his thoughts race uncontrollably. His green eyes flicker to the rearview mirror and then to the empty backseat, a dark thought taking hold of him. It's ridiculous, he knows, but the image is vivid, almost too vivid to push away-the two of you tangled together in the small space, your back arching against the leather as his hands grip your hips, holding you in place.

The idea sends a heat rushing through him, and he clenches his jaw, forcing his gaze back to the road ahead. But it's no use. His thoughts keep circling back, no matter how hard he tries to distract himself. The way your lips curve as you speak, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, the faint scent of your perfume that fills the car—it's driving him mad. You're so close, yet just out of reach, and it's enough to make him want to explode.

He imagines it so clearly: the way you'd look beneath him, your head thrown back, your lips parted in a gasp as he claims you. The sound of his name spilling from your mouth, a mix of moans and screams that would echo in his ears forever. The thought of marking you, leaving his fingerprints, his bruises, his everything on you-it consumes him. He wants you to be his, entirely his, in every possible way. To make sure no one else could ever have you, touch you, or even think of you the way he does.

His breathing becomes shallow as the lust builds inside him, threatening to take over. His hands clench into fists in his lap, his nails digging into his palms as he fights to regain control. Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet. You're driving, unaware of the wildfire burning inside him, and the last thing he wants is to ruin this perfect moment.

But his eyes betray him, flicking back to the rearview mirror, imagining again how easy it would be. The backseat seems like it was made for this-for you. He could pull you back there, coax you into his arms, and let his hands explore every inch of you. He'd take his time, memorizing the feel of your skin, the way your body reacts to his touch. You'd look so beautiful, so utterly perfect, with your cheeks flushed and your voice breaking as you beg for more.

Harry exhales sharply, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. He turns his head slightly, stealing another glance at you, and it only makes things worse. The way your lips press together in concentration as you drive, the way your fingers drum softly against the steering wheel-it's enough to make him want to lose control.

He shifts again, trying to adjust himself discreetly, the tension in his body almost unbearable now. His lustful thoughts are a storm, loud and demanding, drowning out every ounce of reason he has left. He's trying to distract himself, to think of anything else, but it's no use. Every thought keeps looping back to you-your voice, your scent, your body, your everything.

You glance at him briefly, catching the flicker of something dark and unspoken in his eyes, but you brush it off as nothing. To you, he's still the stranded, grateful stranger, polite and charming, sitting quietly beside you.

But Harry's chest tightens as he fights the urge to act on the consuming need inside him. His teeth graze his bottom lip, his mind racing. He's never felt like this before— this overwhelming obsession, this uncontrollable desire. And it terrifies him. But it also excites him, in a way he can't even begin to describe.

For now, he forces himself to stay still, to keep his hands in his lap and his voice calm. But his thoughts? His thoughts are far from calm. They're filled with you, with every possible way he wants to have you. And the longer he sits beside you, the harder it becomes to stop himself from making you his. Completely, utterly, and irrevocably his.

Harry’s voice cuts through the silence, a casual curiosity in his tone that makes you glance at him briefly. “You don’t have a boyfriend yet, do you?”

You raise an eyebrow, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected question. You keep your eyes on the road, trying to process his words. “How did you know?” you ask, voice light, though you can’t quite place the reason why it feels like an oddly personal question.

Harry shrugs slightly, a devil-may-care smile curling on his lips. “Just a guess,” he says nonchalantly. “No man in his right mind would let a gorgeous girl like you be alone at night for this long. Either that or you’ve got a terrible taste in men.”

His words hit you with an unexpected warmth. You laugh, a soft chuckle escaping your lips, trying to hide the flutter of something that rises in your chest. It feels like he’s teasing you, and yet there’s a charm in his tone, something alluring and carefree that makes it hard not to feel a little… flattered.

“Terrible taste, huh?” you reply, half-joking, your eyes flickering back to him. “Well, maybe I’ve just been too picky.”

Harry’s smirk deepens, a glint of mischief dancing in his green eyes. He leans forward slightly, his voice low, as if sharing a secret. “Maybe I can be your new boyfriend,” he suggests, his tone playful but with a teasing undertone that makes your pulse quicken. “Save you from your bad taste?”

You laugh again, this time more freely, the sound light and natural. “Oh really?” you reply, shaking your head with a mock skeptical smile. “You think you could do a better job?”

Harry’s gaze flickers to you, a knowing glint in his eyes, as if he’s sure he’s exactly what you need, even though you’re not quite sure how to respond. “I mean,” he says, his smile widening, “you wouldn’t know until you tried, would you?”

The playful banter between the two of you continues, the tension that had briefly been present starting to dissipate, replaced by a light-hearted connection that feels easy and natural. But beneath the surface of the conversation, Harry’s thoughts still swirl with that same obsessive desire. He’s enjoying the game, enjoying the way you laugh, the way your eyes twinkle when you tease him back. But deep down, he’s already picturing what it would look like if he were your boyfriend. How it would feel to have you close, to make you his—completely, entirely, and without question.

For now, though, he lets the teasing continue, enjoying the playfulness between you, and the undeniable pull he feels toward you. But he knows, deep down, that this is only the beginning. This is just the start of what’s to come. And he’s more than willing to wait for the moment when you’ll be his.

Harry’s smirk widens as you teasingly reply, “Maybe.” He can’t help it; his pulse quickens at your words. He’s always been good at reading people, but with you, everything feels like an exciting game—one he’s eager to win.

He leans in a little, his arm stretching out to rest on the console between you, positioning himself closer. His breath hitches slightly as he catches the scent of your perfume again, the warmth of your presence filling the car. He’s trying to remain casual, but he can’t help it; his thoughts are moving too fast, pulling him deeper into the haze of attraction.

“Give me some hope at least, moon flower,” he says, his voice softer now, almost intimate. “Let me know I’ve got a shot.”

His eyes never leave you as he waits for your response, and when you tease him back, saying, “Okay, you do. You have a shot at it,” Harry’s grin stretches across his face, almost too excited for his own good. It’s as if he’s won something. Something he can’t quite put into words yet, but it feels like a step toward getting closer to you.

He sits up straighter, a surge of confidence overtaking him. His gaze moves over your figure with a deliberation that makes your stomach flutter. The way his eyes drink in the details of your face, your body, makes you feel… noticed. Seen.

“That’s one hell of a boost for my ego,” Harry says, his voice dripping with a mix of playful arrogance and genuine admiration. “I’ve got a chance with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze. It’s flattering, but there’s something else in his look—something deeper, something more consuming than mere compliments. It’s as if he’s claiming you in some unspoken way. His eyes linger a little too long, and though he’s trying to be playful, there’s a certain hunger there that catches you off guard.

A part of you wants to laugh it off, but another part of you… well, another part of you can’t quite deny the effect his words have on you. The way his confidence oozes, the way he seems to have you completely captivated even when he’s just speaking casually.

You force your gaze back to the road, but the tension between you both feels different now. It’s charged, electric—filled with unspoken possibilities. Harry, however, doesn’t let up. His eyes keep studying you, as if trying to decipher every little detail about you. His lips curl into a smile that’s both triumphant and knowing.

The atmosphere in the car shifts. The lightness of the teasing still hangs in the air, but there’s a deeper layer now—one that feels almost like a promise. Harry’s made it clear: he’s not here for just a simple ride. He’s here to win your attention, your affection, to make sure you know exactly how much he wants you. And as he watches you, he knows he’s already made his mark on you in some way, whether you realize it yet or not.

The air between you thickens, charged with the energy of his words. Harry's voice lowers, almost like a secret. "This might sound crazy since I hardly know you," he says, his gaze flickering from your face to your lips, then back to your eyes. "But I really, really want to kiss you."

The intensity of his gaze, the weight of his words, sends a rush of heat to your chest.

Your heart skips a beat, then races faster than before. You know it's reckless, impulsive, but it's as if something deep inside you is responding to him, telling you to act, to do something. But before you can process the surge of emotions, your foot slams down on the brake pedal without warning.

Harry's eyes widen, his body thrown forward by the sudden stop. His hands instinctively grip the console as he stumbles against the force of the car halting.

"Jesus!" he exclaims, his voice laced with shock, his pulse spiking.

You breathe shakily, your hands still gripping the steering wheel as the car finally comes to a stop. The silence in the car is thick with anticipation. Harry's heart is racing, not just from the sudden stop, but from the way you're looking at him now-there's something different in your eyes. Something that mirrors the craving he's been feeling.

When the shock of the stop wears off, Harry turns to you, his breath coming in quick bursts. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he stares at you.

"Why the hell did you stop the car like that, love?" he asks, his voice rough, his brows furrowed in both confusion and curiosity.

Your eyes lock with his, and something shifts. The walls you'd both been playing behind-teasing, joking-begin to crumble. His question hangs in the air between you like a challenge. But then, without saying another word, you lean toward him. A glint of something darker passes over your face.

"Because I wanted to do this," you whisper, and without waiting for any further hesitation, your lips crash into his.

The kiss is immediate and intense, born out of the tension that's been building ever since he first got into the car. His lips are soft but urgent, pulling you closer. There's no room for uncertainty anymore; only the heat of the moment, the heat of his body pressing against yours, the heat of desire crackling between you both.

Harry responds eagerly, his hand reaching to cup your jaw, fingers threading into your hair as he deepens the kiss, his lips moving hungrily against yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, sending a pulse of warmth straight to your core. His kiss is fierce, as if he's been waiting for this moment just as much as you. His tongue brushes against yours, a soft, tantalizing pressure that makes you lose yourself in the sensation.

For a brief moment, nothing else matters-the world outside the car, the consequences, the lingering doubt. All of it fades away as you both succumb to the pull of each other, driven by something stronger than logic or reason. The kiss feels like a release, the pent-up tension from the entire ride coming to fruition in one passionate, desperate embrace.

When you finally break away, your breaths are ragged, both of you still close, your foreheads resting against each other. Your pulse is wild, your heart pounding in your chest, and you can't help but smile at the way he looks at you now-his eyes dark with desire, filled with a hunger that matches your own.

Harry grins, a satisfied, almost predatory look crossing his face. "Well... I guess I got what I wanted," he murmurs, his lips barely brushing against yours as he speaks.

But you know this isn't over. The tension between you both is only just beginning, and neither of you can walk away from it now.

“God, you’re so hot,” Harry mutters against your lips, the hand not on your face sneaking down to your thigh, his fingers gently squeezing the flesh through your jeans. He’s getting drunk on you, addicted to the feeling of your lips on his. He’s never before felt this way, it’s like something in him has snapped in half, the primal and possessive side of him awakening. He doesn’t want to let you go.

The kiss gets more heated, the sweet gestures replaced by desperate and hungry ones. Harry’s fingers dig into your thigh almost possessively, his head tilting to deepen the kiss even more.

His tongue runs over your lower lip, begging for entrance.

As soon as you grant him access his tongue immediately pushes inside your mouth, exploring every inch of your wet cavern hungrily. It’s as if he wants to devour you. His hand moves up from your thigh to your waist, pulling you closer, trying to get the most possible body contact.

“You’re driving me insane, princess…” Harry mumbles against your lips, one hand now gently gripping your chin, holding you in place. He’s practically addicted to the way your mouth feels on his, you’ve unleashed something primal in him, something he has trouble controlling.

“Your car is like.. a perfect spot for this, love,” Harry comments, his lips moving off of yours, down to your jawline. He begins kissing the skin there as he speaks, “Plenty of space… dark, private… you should park somewhere. I bet your backseats are really comfortable.”

There was no denying that he get want he wants and you’re now his… and this is just the beginning

[pretzel-box]

OMG THE LITTLE DRABBLE YOU WRITE FOR SEBASTIAN WHERE READER ACCIDENTALLY GAVE HIM A LOVE NOTE INSTEAD OF THE FILES HE WANTED WAS SO GOOD!! can you please try to recreate it as a fanfic ? Love your writing btw :3 (also can it please be fem!reader?)

Tags: Established Relationship [Marriage], Fluff, Comfort, Motivational Notes

Words: 1k

Sebastian spends most of his precious time reading files, listening to annoying human visitors and scavenging. The last name was something he enjoyed since it was so simple and relaxing.

On this particular scavenging run, things were different. He hadn’t come across anything remarkable for a while, letting him feel a wave of frustration run over him, but then, tucked away in an old storage room, he found a file cabinet half-buried under debris. It was unlocked, and inside were files, all marked as unimportant or abandoned.

He hesitated for a second, figuring it was nothing more than outdated reports or useless data. But something compelled him to grab a few of the folders and stash them in his pack. Who knows? Maybe he could find some clues about the facility’s history, or something he could use against Urbanshade.

After the long trek back to his shop, Sebastian settled in, tossing his gear aside and grabbing a drink before collapsing at his cluttered desk. He didn’t bother with the files at first, instead leaning back, glancing at the framed photo on his desk.

It was of you, standing by his side, beaming that radiant smile of yours. He traced a finger gently over the frame with a small, rare smile tugging at his lips. The two of you had been through hell together, but despite everything, here you were—still by his side, still the one constant in his life.

Sighing, he leaned forward, flipping open the first folder from the stack he’d brought back. But instead of the usual boring documents he expected, he found something else—a small, folded note.

"Seb, I know you're probably frustrated right now, but I just want you to know how much I love you. You’re stronger than you think, and you’ll get through whatever this is. Remember that, okay?"

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard. He stared at the note for a moment, his fingers brushing over the paper as a warmth spread through his chest. He recognized the handwriting instantly—it was yours. But what was it doing here?

He reached for the next file, flipping it open with more curiosity this time. Inside, he found another note:

"When you feel like the world is crashing down on you, remember that you’re the one who holds us together. You’ve always been my hero, and you always will be."

A chuckle escaped his lips as he read the words, shaking his head in disbelief. What were these doing here? He sifted through more of the files, each one containing more of the same—small, handwritten notes from you, each one filled with love, encouragement, and sweet little reminders of how much you believed in him.

"I know you’re tired, but don’t forget to take care of yourself. Drink some water, take a break. I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready to come home."

“You mean everything to me, Sebastian. Don’t ever forget that. Even on the days you feel lost, I’m right here beside you."

His heart swelled with every note he found, the exhaustion from the day’s work slowly melting away. He could practically hear your voice in his head, soft and comforting, as if you were sitting right next to him.

He laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief. Of course you’d do something like this. You always knew how to surprise him, even in the smallest ways. He could imagine you sneaking these notes into various places around the Blacksite, knowing full well that one day he’d find them. You were always thinking ahead, always finding ways to make him smile, even when he didn’t think he had the energy for it.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. He couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, a little less burdened.

Grinning, he stood up and moved to the back of his shop, grabbing two mugs and setting them on some boxes that served as tables. He heard the soft patter of your feet as you came down the ladder that led to the small loft in his shop where you usually rested, and soon enough, there you were, walking into the room, rubbing your eyes from a nap you’d taken.

“Hey,” you said, smiling as you stretched your arms over your head, an action that he always loved to see you did it. “What’s with the grin?”

Sebastian just shook his head, watching you with a fondness he rarely showed anyone else. “I found your little scavenger hunt,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

You blinked, confused for a moment before realization dawned on your face. “Oh, you found them?” you asked, a playful glint in your eye. “Took you long enough.”

He walked over, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You know,” he said softly, his voice full of affection, “you’re a pain in the ass sometimes.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. His body was cold as always, making you feel cooled down but his actions had a comforting warmth to it as if a weighted blanket was laid upon you. “Yeah, but you love me for it.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I really do.”

The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the world feeling a little less heavy in that moment. Eventually, you pulled away, glancing over at the files scattered on the table.

“So,” you teased, “how many did you find?”

“Enough to remind me I married a complete sap,” he replied with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, leaning up to kiss him, your lips meeting him and you could feel him lean closer. “Well, someone’s gotta keep you from brooding all the time.”

Sebastian chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “Guess I’m stuck with you then, huh?”

You smiled, resting your head on his chest. “Yeah,” you said softly. “You’re stuck with me.”

And for once, Sebastian didn’t mind being stuck at all.

[ghosts-and-glory]

Some Narinder character analysis for y’all.

This is a slightly re-edited excerpt from a much longer post of mine where I was specifically trying to provide a rebuttal to someone else. I’m kinda proud of some of my takes here and the write up took me hours so I’m gonna repost it here on its own.

I’m going into specifically into Narinder’s

Speech patterns and way of expressing emotions.

Implications of his post defeat dialogue

Relationship with Aym and Baal

Feelings on Ratau’s death

And a little extra on why do we “babygirl” Narinder

Full analysis under the cut.

The way Narinder expresses his positive feelings

First I gotta establish Narinder’s voice. Narinder seems almost incapable of giving a genuine compliment especially without turning it into something about himself.

Here’s three examples of him giving a complement to The Lamb. Taken from after defeating Amdusias and Shamura. He also complements The Lamb when you sacrifice Ratau but I’ll come back around to that.

I wanted to grab the entire quotes so it didn’t look like I was nitpicking.

"Very good, my vessel. It seems I chose well when I kept you from Death.”

First example, “very good,” is the complement, but immediately after he takes credit for this by calling you “my vessel” thereby claiming ownership over you. His vessel did well. And again “I chose well” doubled down and complemented himself.

“I admit, you have worn it (the red crown) almost as well as I could have myself.”

Again we see the complement layered in ego. “Almost as well as I” in other words you did well, but don’t forget I’m better. Also important to draw attention to is “I admit” this is a very explicit statement of his refusal to acknowledge the success of others.

"Your appetite for death is something I can admire, Vessel. But the Crown is mine, and none - NONE - are worthy. None other than I.”

Here he almost lays down a complement. “Your appetite for death is something I can admire” straight up, states his admiration. He seems to almost realize what he’s done and quickly pulls back into his ego, “But the crown is mine” “-none are worthy- None other than I.”

These are the three of the four ONLY times that Narinder ever says anything explicitly positive about someone else when he is a god. Thus establishing that the head ass cannot give out a compliment to save his life. The one time he gives you full credit for your actions he immediately pulls right back into his ego.

I cannot stress this enough. Someone who is characterized as cold and emotionally closed off as Narinder is WILL NOT suddenly undo this characteristic when they try and express a positive feeling.

Okay with that established we can look at his follower dialogue. Specifically these two examples from when you resurrect a follower and allow him to go on a mission.

“I cannot begrudge supplantation by one such as yourself.”

Literally saying I don’t resent you for taking my place. It’s not an explicit statement that he respects you but this is he weird fucked up little way of saying it. Of course he still lays it out in a way that’s self centred but we know from the way he has spoken that this is about as much verbal praise he is capable of giving.

The other one is a less explicit statement but I think it’s a interesting reflection of the final place of his character.

“…my thanks, Lamb.”

Being his last bit of unique dialogue, it’s an incredible ending to a character. He thanks you. That’s all he needed to say.

Narinder’s reaction to his defeat that he would rather die.

Let’s go over his dialogue in some depth.

"You weak, snivelling, foul thing. You - wait! Waaaiiiiiit!"

I’m starting with this line as it compels me the most. I find that there are two separate readings of this and I can’t really point to one above the other. On my play through I had assumed his wailing was more in reference to being denied death. It could also be read as him not wanting to be reduced to a follower and realizing what your mercy really means for his future.

“-are you to be a vengeful false idol, or a merciful coward? No longer can you blame your vile acts on me."

Okay, looking at the way he presents your two options he seems to push more for the murder action. “-vengeful false idol,” is how he refers to murder. It’s not exactly a glowing review but his use of the word vengeful is important. We know that one of Narinder’s main goals in the game is revenge, we he already acts with revenge I can’t say that he’s using this word as an insult. The false idol part of this statement seems like he’s attempted to separate himself from you, again for is ego.

Then he presents the spare option by calling you a “merciful coward.” The flow of this full sentence puts more pressure on this option. He presents it as the “or” the second option. This is the bad option, the option of a coward.

“So. vou are no different to me after all. You have become as I am."

I know this is a deranged order to go over these quotes but last we got murder. Compared to his spare dialogue this is incredibly sombre. We know from already establishing how big his ego is that saying you are the same as him is almost a compliment. I do find this dialogue incredibly interesting tho, I can’t exactly explain why but I can’t help but read this as damning as well. It’s like he means it in both ways, the ultimate fuck you. You are just as I am, for better and worse.

But from what we know about Narinder his edgy ass cannot express emotion. He wraps his statements in layers of irony and selfishness. Unless it supports the persona he puts on or inflates his ego he WILL NOT right out state his feelings or needs, especially when he was a chained god.

Relationship with Aym and Baal

Aym and Baal are incredibly hard to characterize. They don’t have much dialogue to work off of and only three characters every speak on them, Shamura, Narinder and Forneus. The context of the game does present them as more Narinder’s first (and second) hand, less followers more apprentices, almost, but where’s the fun in assuming.

"Intended as keepers, perhaps, but they were young and in need of guidance. Must I be blamed for my influence?"

I wanna draw attention to the specific wording of keepers. Again, based on the way Narinder speaks its safe to assume he means the formal meaning of a keeper, meaning a caretaker. It is unclear if Narinder was told they where his keepers or if he assumed so, but either way he still speaks on them as such.

For the sake of argument (and I don’t wanna rewrite this bit entirely) I’m gonna put the idea that Narinder brainwashed Aym and Baal against my presented idea of them being his keepers or apprentices.

The proposed idea of the brainwashing angle can be developed based on Narinder saying that “they where young and in need of guidance, must I be blamed for my influence.” This implies that, as much as Aym and Baal may have been sent as keepers, they where still young and Narinder could not help but be an influence on them. I am gonna come back around to this thread so hold onto this for a moment. Moving on.

“Two kits I did have, true love found! And yet one lackadaisy summer day, my beautiful children were taken away... a gift, they said, for the one they loved most, the one that waits...”

“Ooh, kits... I remember, I remember... two kits in my claws... a gift.."

It is unclear and morally dubious how Aym and Baal came to Narinder. First we’re not 100% where Narinder is chained. The wiki lists it as the afterlife and in dialogue Narinder refers to it as “at the gates between this life and the next, trapped at the nexus of what was and what wasn't.” (When he asks you to send him on a mission.) We can travel there both by dying and being summoned there by him.

Either way the assumption is that Aym and Baal had to die. (As an aside I have my own speculation on the conditions required for a person to be presented to Narinder or to be resurrected but that’s off topic.) The horrific implications being that either Shamura themself killed the kits or that they where already dying. However you cannot blame the reaper for ushering the dead away from life.

I’m going to work off of the cult specific definition and characteristics of brainwashing. It’s hard to characterize where Aym and Baal sit here as, again they have little dialogue and due to the nature of brainwashing it’s hard to spot. First I wanna grab my brainwashing resources.

I’m using Encyclopedia Britannica’s page on brainwashing, cults, indoctrination, manipulation as my primary resourse.

Again I kinda wanna apply a layer of irony to how literally I apply real life tragedy to this game that obviously uses cults in a comedic manner. I wanna focus in on the characteristics displayed by victims of brainwashing and the techniques used in brainwashing by an abuser.

Looking at the elements used in brainwashing the only one I can say off the bat that is present is isolation, obviously. But with that let’s grab all of Aym and Baal’s dialogue.

What is clear from their dialogue is their obedience to Narinder. They call him master while his keepers and still when you meet them later when adventuring. And physically we do see them by Narinder’s side the entire main game and they fight the Lamb first. But if we add some nuance and look at their role as keepers or my own theory of being apprentices both actions of obedience make sense still for those roles. On the same note they also don’t display traits you would expect for someone fully under Narinder’s control. They speak to the Lamb out of turn and attack without prompting from Narinder.

Other characteristics are hard to imply. With torture I do want to pass it off an unlikely as based on the way Narinder tries to manipulate the Lamb it’s only verbal and he cannot attack while chained and I don’t see that changing with the keepers. Traits like sleep, water and food deprivation can’t be applied for various reasons (mostly the being dead one) and we don’t know anything about Narinder and the keeper’s interactions in the past so I’ll have to disregard other traits like suggestion.

Baal: "It's you. Usurper of the Red Crown. The one who freed us."

Aym: "Ha! You are nothing compared to our Master. We have not been in this world long, but already I can tell you are weak. You lack discipline. Our Master wielded Death with precision and control. You allow chaos to reign."

Baal: "What my brother means to say is thank you."

Moving onto groupthink I can pretty comfortably say that this is not a present characteristic of Aym and Baal. In their limited dialogue we can easily characterize Aym as more outwardly defensive of Narinder but Baal is more reserved and even contradicts Aym and is able to speak freely of Narinder.

Looping back around to the way Narinder speaks on his influence on Aym and Baal. Again we know how Narinder speaks, he cannot give honest compliments and dodges affection like it’s a professional sport. With the way he will outright tell the Lamb to manipulate followers and then uses the words “guidance” and “influence” about Aym and Baal, he has to be avoiding admitting affection to the keepers. He does follow that up with “Do what you wish, scornful God. I care not for them.” But again does Forneus not also allow her kits to do as they wish?

My own reading of Narinder’s relation to Aym and Baal is that of mentorship but it could also be read as parental. But saying brainwashed is a big stretch.

His feelings on the death of Ratau

This is like another example of like, yeah, wow, an evil character does evil? Who could’ve possibly foreseen this? Sarcasm aside I do see his comments on this being a lesser evil.

First I do have to ask why, if Narinder held strong sense of unrest against his former vessel, did he not have him struck down? The main reason I can see is that Ratau is still devoted to the red crown, most clearly seen by the statue at the lonely shack which generates devotion.

Second, Ratau’s death isn’t on his hands, it’s on yours. I find his pride here is from The Lamb’s actions not the death of Ratau. You killed your mentor, he describes your actions as “treacherous opportunism” and says “A great Vessel takes their master's will as their own.” Based on his later dialogue this is likely more foreshadowing the Lamb becoming as Narinder is. Narinder tried to kill his siblings, and you did kill your mentor. “You have become as I am."

I’m gonna tangent quickly cause there’s a line here that is incredibly interesting.

"He renounced his position after striking a bargain that resulted in the sacrifice of a Follower. He was weak."

Incredibly interesting the way he condemns Ratau’s sacrifice of a follower. Narinder directly contradicts himself. It is implied that the follower was lost to another being that did not benefit Narinder, but the Lamb also sacrifices followers to the Fox and Midas. Just something to chew on.

Why do we “babygirl” Narinder and other evil characters?

This is kinda the last bit I’m gonna get into before I cap this off. It is incredibly funny for me to say “I babygirl Narinder” only to get a reply that’s like “I don’t think you babygirl him on purpose.” But I wanna talk about why this happens and why it happened to specifically Narinder.

When people complain about the fandom interpretation of Narinder I think they forget the tone of cult of the lamb. The closest thing I could think to call it would be a dark comedy kinda energy.

The game has very dark themes going on. Mentions of real horrible things like genocide, cults and religious abuse. But also just like look at the game, it’s visual style is so cute and non threatening, the bird characters have two mouths to commit to the bit. If you look at the way it depicts cults it’s very surface level, it’s more focused on being a satire on the common satanic media kinda look of a cult. Visually it bathes in its aesthetics, taking names from books like The Lessee Key of Solomon, uses villainous depictions of symbols like the pentagram or old Hebrew script, disregarding its nuanced origins.

And then they go onto do the funniest thing ever. The other bishop’s? Gross little freaks, based on commonly disliked animals, worm, frog, squid and spider. And then- and then they make the god of death, who they characterize and manipulative and evil, they make him a catboy. You cannot tell me they did not know what they where doing.

Why have I shot Narinder with the babygirl beam? CAUSE THE GAME DID IT FIRST!

I’m gonna call the god of death my little meow meow and point out his status as a Tumblr sexy man cause he’s a little guy and I wanna give him head scritches. But I’m also gonna call him a layered, fucked up and an incredibly interesting character in the same breath.

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

MY LITTLE OMEGA

KINKTOBER DAY 26 - OMEGAVERSE WITH RAYMOND LEON

Pairing.| Raymond Leon x fem!reader

Summary.| You go into heat early and your Alpha is forced to come home to relieve you.

Warnings.| Dubcon, heat, rutting, abo, slightly degrading, p in v, biting.

Word count.| 2k

Notes.| Okay I never read or write this type of thing, but it was interesting to do.

You shamefully humped Raymond’s pillow, his shirt covering the entirety of your head as you heavily inhaled his scent. But it was never enough, you needed him completely. When he entered your shared home, you immediately picked up on his strong sweet scent of midnight rain. The Omega inside of you wanted to run to him, but the anger you could sense in him made you loudly whimper as your hips rocked in a sloppy manner. 

The smell of your heat was fierce to Raymond’s nostrils, the scent of wet rocks infested his body as he strided down the hall. His head snapped to the nesting room, his jawline sharp as he stomped to you. The door was already wide open, your body completely bare as you mewled out, trying to reveal yourself of your agony. 

His menaceful Alpha voice rolled out your name. Like he casted a spell on you, your body froze, his damp pillow locked in between your thighs. Slowly, he stepped to you, his compelling blue eyes lingered over your exposed backside and how quickly it trembled to his touch. 

“I could smell you from across town, you’ve gone into heat early, why?” Raymond questioned, his tone threatening as he dropped to his knees onto the mattress of the platform bed. 

His large hand pulled the shirt off of your head. As you looked back at him with fearful eyes, he blinked at how full of tears they were. You were lost for words, stammering like a child caught eating from the cookie jar. 

“I-I don't know” you stammered quietly. 

“Don’t lie to me…” Raymond growled in a low volume, clicking his tongue as his hand rolled up and down your spine. 

“I forgot to take my meds!” You easily confessed, your voice full of guilt and humiliation. 

Raymond snarled at you, you whined painfully in return. 

The reason you were on suppressants was because Raymond had a busy month of work. If you went into heat likewise to him going into rut, it would ruin his schedule completely. But with him traveling down south without you, you were highly emotional of being all alone in your home. Even though Raymond would just blame it on you, it was a common side effect of the suppressants to be dependent on their bonded mate. The thoughts of him being gone for almost two weeks put you into a state of despair.

When you woke up from a deep sleep to realize you had forgotten to take your suppressants, your heart raced. It was only an hour late, but you had heard stories of Omega’s missing out on the time frame of only a few minutes and suffering the consequences. Those were only rumors though. Yet the chances were low but were now your reality. 

The moment you felt the first sign, you were in denial and continued on with your day. But when the fever sweats began to drip, cramps formed into a blade under your skin and slick trickled down your legs, you found yourself stuck in mayhem on what to do. 

The obvious solution was to call Raymond. But the knowing answer of him punishing you felt too horrifying and humiliating. Raymond did not allow you to possess any toys. For his arrogant behavior questioned why you’d need such mechanics when you had him to relieve you. So you just tried to block it all out. Two days you successfully spent in agony before he finally had a chance to call you. 

He could hear it in your tone despite the fact that you chose to use minimal words. 

“Little one, is there something you need to tell me?” he replied, resisting his growl over the line. 

You confessed immediately and Raymond almost hung up the phone just as quick. If his primal urges didn’t pull him back towards you like gravity, he would have made you suffer alone. But instead, like a good Alpha, he sped back home to care for you.  

Those silk-like hands teased your skin. Trailing up and down then side to side over your skin. Your back arched as you murmured out his name, almost foaming at the mouth. Suddenly, he slapped your rear harshly, making you yelp. 

“You’ve ruined my investigation little one… Do not think this will be enjoyable for you” Raymond growled. 

“I’m sorry Alpha!” You cried and lowered your body onto the bed as you hid your face in shame under his pillow. 

“How long have you been in heat?” Raymond tilted his head towards you as he slid off his leather jacket. 

“T-three days now” you spoke in hushed tones. 

“Fucking stupid bitch” Raymond muttered to himself. 

But you heard him perfectly, you whined loudly and squirmed over the mattress. Raymond quickly stripped nude and wrapped his front against your back. You purred out, his warmth eased your pain, bending your neck back as your back arched, you moved your ass into his erection.

“You’re so fucking lucky I wasn’t the only one on the case. But like they’ll be able to sniff out shit without me” Raymond snarled, nipping his teeth at the skin of your neck. “You’ve gotten my cock all riled up, your scent is fucking intoxicating!” He groaned out, burying his nose into your soft hair. 

“M’sorry!” You repeat yourself loudly.

“You’re gonna have to beg me for it” Raymond whispered into your ear. 

“No Raymond please! M-M’sorry! I’ve already been suffering for days!” you exclaimed, shaking your head at the thought of him tormenting you again. 

During many of your heats together, Raymond enjoyed playing with your state of agony at first. Your performance of begging for his touch was exhilarating. Whimpers and whines were likewise to angelic music to his ears. The way your needy hands tried to pull him towards you was amusing. 

You tried to wiggle your ass against his crotch but he held you down and kept his hips at distance. 

“You should have called me the moment you felt it” Raymond lectured.  

“I didn’t want to disturb you. I thought I could hold it off!” You explained pathetically, mewling like a baby. 

“Stupid Omega” Raymond insulted. Immediately, you whined again and Raymond pouted at you. “This is why you need me, little one…” he explained in a condescending tone. 

A hum was your only response as you nodded your head eagerly. It was true, you depended on him the moment you laid eyes on him. The bond was heavenly, the way your heart skipped a beat as you caught him watching you, almost ready to eat you alive. But it didn’t take you long to realize how frightening he could be, but then he could also be so loving. If you remained good, he’d treat you well. So it was time to comply and be his good girl. 

“Now, beg” Raymond ordered. 

“Alpha” you mewled dramatically.

“Yes Omega?” He teased. 

“Please! I need your cock inside of me, my walls are clenching so harshly! I need to squeeze around you” you spat out, licking your lips at the idea of his dick buried inside of you. Your eyes were fluttering, you felt like you were already drunk on his cock. 

“Sounds like a you problem” Raymond grinned.

Your scent was matchless, like the uncharted sanctuaries of earth that all explorers desired to uncover. Secretly, he could spend days pressing his nose to your hair as his hands would caress your waist. 

“Alpha please! Show me my place, remind me who I belong to” you begged, twisting your upper body to look back at him.  

“Remind you huh?” Raymond grunted, possessiveness flashing through his ocean blue eyes. You shuddered, fearing that you had made a poor choice of words. Trying to steer his suspicions elsewhere, you ended up just stammering to yourself. “You forget who you belong to?” Raymond tilted his head at you. 

“No!” you denied fearfully. 

“But you tell me to remind you, so you have forgotten, have you not?” Raymond questioned, his eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. 

“No… I’m just trying to-” you squeaked, becoming too timid to speak. 

Raymond flipped you over and licked his lips. Your eyes felt almost compelled to look down to his member and you grumbled out, eagerly desiring to devour it. How could he make you beg in a moment where he craved you just as desperately. 

“Look at how fucking pathetic you look, drooling over my member…” Raymond scoffed condescendingly, his body stood tall as he smirked down at you. 

“Can I touch it?” you asked softly, eyes stuck on his throbbing member that leaked of precum. 

“Yes little one” he spoke softly, warmly. 

Quickly, you moved onto your knees and your hand reached out. You stroked him softly and slowly, gradually you picked up the pace and firmness. Raymond breathed out, his eyes fluttering as he watched you please his cock. 

After maneuvering you onto your back, Raymond kissed you passionately as he lined himself up to your entrance. Whilst keeping eye contact, Raymond pushed his member inside of you effortlessly, you were always so eager to take him completely. Then your muscles would contract after you had consumed him. 

Like animals, Raymond pounded himself into your clenching walls. You cried out in relief as you felt the tension in your core be replaced by pleasure. In your ear, Raymond whispered sweet words which had you gasping for more. Your fingertips ran up and down his broad back, nails teased at his firm skin. 

Other Alphas laughed when they found out Raymond had bonded with a Omega. Because well, Raymond lacked that caring trait. However, Raymond quite enjoyed being bonded with a Omega. Were you unbearable dependent on him? Yes. But Raymond had dated Alpha’s in the past and it felt like a constant battle for dominance. 

You however always submitted to him. You always knew your place. He’d never admit it, but Raymond enjoyed the comfort you gave him, likewise to the nurture he’d show you. The moments of intimacy and comfort you shared were relaxing and reassuring. 

“I haven’t taken my pills” Raymond confessed. 

Usually it was the females who took birth control. But Raymond’s ego made him believe that they would disobey him and stop their medications in hopes of being bred by him. But after being bonded to you, the idea of you being bred excited him. He had no worries that his offspring would be anything besides Alphas. 

“Do you think you’re ready to bear my pups?” Raymond questioned sternly.

“Raymond?” You whimpered, panic flashing through your eyes. 

“I’m going to breed you this heat. You’ll carry my child, you got it?” Raymond made known. 

“Yes Alpha!” You replied, immediately submitting yourself to him. 

This is what you wanted, this is what you were made for. To be his little obedient Omega and raise his children. It had felt like an eternity since you’d met him, even though it had only been a couple of months. 

“Good… You’re so fucking compelling, you know that right?” Raymond groaned out, feeling his rut pulsing. “If any other Alpha dares to sniff in this direction I’ll rip his fucking head off” Raymond snarled, a wave of jealousy and possessiveness crashed over him. 

“I belong to you Raymond!” You assured, cunt squeezing him so tightly. 

“Good girl, my obedient little Omega” Raymond praised with a wicked grin. 

Swiftly, you’re flipped onto your stomach and Raymond buried himself in completely. You moan out as your orgasm crashed over you, His teeth latched directly in between your shoulder and neck and you whined out, but the pain was coated in extra pleasure. 

Raymond groaned onto your flesh as he felt his member expand inside of you. His movements were forced to slow down to a complete stop as his seed shot deep into your womb. With the both of you painted in a coat of sweat, you’re carefully shifted onto your side, Raymond’s body connected to yours. His teeth release your skin and Raymond kisses your heated cheek before he buried his head into the crook of your neck. 

“I love you Raymond” you sniffled, eyes still blurred from your post orgasmic state. 

“Shush… Go to sleep little one” Raymond murmured.