#these r just completely different guys now

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she can date whoever she wants to, i don't care.

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James and you still aren't on talking terms, he avoids you, never gets too close to you, yet complains to everyone when he sees you get close to your new charms partner.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r is a gryffindor lol, this is lowkey super short… 2.1k words, the next chapter will be better...trust

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It had been weeks. Weeks since James had last spoken to you, the last time you had talked was in december, now you're almost two weeks into february, and the rift between you only seemed to grow wider. At first, he told himself he was giving you space. He thought that if he stayed back, you’d eventually come to him, and things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

Every time James worked up the courage to approach you, it was the same thing: you were with him.

Finn Laurier.

James hated how the name left a sour taste in his mouth. Finn wasn’t a bad guy—he was charming, clever, and polite. Too polite, in James’s opinion. Finn Laurier was completely different from James, and that only made the knot of insecurity and jealousy in James’s chest tighten.

While James was loud and brash, Finn had an easygoing, quiet confidence about him. Where James was all about grand gestures and bold declarations, Finn had a knack for subtlety and knowing the right thing to say at the right time. It didn’t help that Finn had somehow managed to claim the spot James had always held at your side, and you didn’t seem to mind.

From across the common room, James watched as Finn leaned in closer to you, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. You laughed at something he said, the sound tugging at James’s heart in a way that made him feel like an idiot.

He slumped back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “What does she even see in him?” he muttered under his breath.

Sirius, sprawled out beside him, didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s good-looking, smart, and doesn’t look like he’s been moping for weeks?”

James glared at him. “I’m not moping.”

“Sure, you’re not,” Sirius drawled. “That’s why you’ve been staring at them for the past ten minutes like you’re about to hex him.”

“I’m not going to hex him,” James grumbled. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s very mature of you, Prongs,” Remus chimed in from his corner, not looking up from his book. “But maybe instead of glaring at him, you should focus on fixing things with her.”

“Yeah, because that’s gone so well for me so far,” James shot back bitterly.

“Have you even tried?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

James opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. The truth was, he had tried—at least, he thought he had. But every time he saw you, Finn was there, making you laugh, leaning just a little too close. And every time, James felt like his chances were slipping further and further away.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to ignore the knot of confusion and hurt that James’s behavior had left behind. You weren’t blind to the way he’d been avoiding you, or how he seemed to retreat every time you so much as glanced in his direction.

Finn had been a welcome distraction. He was kind, easy to talk to, and, most importantly, he didn’t make you feel like you’d done something wrong. But even as you laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling of James’s eyes on you from across the room.

“Everything okay?” Finn asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet all of a sudden,” Finn said, tilting his head slightly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you said quickly, offering him a small smile. “I just�� I guess I’m a little distracted.”

Finn nodded, his expression understanding. “Fair enough. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“Thanks, Finn,” you said softly, though your gaze drifted back toward James.

He was still sitting on the couch with Sirius, looking like he was caught between frustration and defeat. When your eyes met for the briefest of moments, he quickly looked away, running a hand through his already messy hair.

You sighed, your chest tightening. Whatever had happened between you and James, it felt bigger than anything you could fix with a simple conversation. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle this silent stalemate.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was now James’s second least favorite day—Valentine’s Day. His least favorite day was still the one he’d sat in Charms class and watched you laugh with Finn Laurier for the first time. That moment had burned itself into his memory, playing on a cruel loop every time he closed his eyes.

But this… this was a close second.

If you had told James back in December that he’d be avoiding you on Valentine’s Day instead of spending it as a happy, loved-up couple, he would have called you mad. Back then, he’d been so sure of himself. So sure that his letter, his heartfelt, trembling confession, would be the thing that finally made you see him as more than just James Potter, your goofy best friend.

And yet, here he was, slouched in a chair in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by heart-shaped confetti that refused to disappear no matter how many times he swatted it away. The house elves had really outdone themselves this year—floating cupid decorations zipped around the room, shooting glittering pink arrows into the air. James glared at one that came a little too close, muttering something about “bloody overkill.”

“I hate this,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking lower into his chair.

“Well, don’t be sulking for the whole day,” Sirius said, perched on the arm of the couch nearby. His tone was a mix of amusement and exasperation, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re all supposed to go to The Three Broomsticks soon, remember?”

James let out another unintelligible grumble, something that sounded suspiciously like “don’t want to,” though the exact words were lost in his sulk.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Come on, mate, this is getting ridiculous. You’ve been moping around for weeks.”

“I’m not moping,” James shot back, though the words lacked any real conviction.

“You’re literally the definition of moping,” Sirius said, smirking. “You’re sitting here, arms crossed, glaring at a cupid like it personally insulted your family.”

“I don’t want to go to The Three Broomsticks,” James muttered.

“And why not?” Sirius pressed, though James could tell from his tone that he already knew the answer.

James sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Because she might be there,” he admitted quietly.

“She, as in you-know-who?” Sirius teased, though his smirk softened slightly when he saw the genuine frustration on James’s face. “Look, Prongs, you can’t avoid her forever. It’s a small castle. You’re bound to run into her eventually.”

“I know that,” James said, his voice tight. “But I just… I can’t deal with seeing her with him today, alright? Not on bloody Valentine’s Day.”

Sirius leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re assuming she’s spending the day with Finn, but has she actually told you that?”

James hesitated. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. “But why wouldn’t she? He’s—he’s Finn Laurier, for Merlin’s sake. He’s perfect. Why wouldn’t she spend Valentine’s Day with him?”

“You’re an idiot,” Sirius said matter-of-factly.

James blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sirius said, standing up and stretching, “that instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, you could actually try talking to her. Maybe, just maybe, things aren’t as hopeless as you think.”

James stared at him, his heart hammering in his chest. The idea of approaching you now, after everything, felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. But Sirius’s words planted a small, stubborn seed of hope in his mind.

“Fine,” James muttered, standing up. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m hexing you.”

Sirius grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As James followed Sirius out of the common room, his mind raced with a hundred different scenarios. He wasn’t sure what he’d say if he saw you—or if he even had the courage to say anything at all. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t keep hiding forever. But it looks like the odds were not in his favor–he felt like his world was crumbling. He knew he shouldn't have listened to Sirius, it just made things worse. You had said yes to being Finn’s valentine–and worst of all, who asks a girl out on valentine's day?

James scoffed, his sadness shifting into a simmering anger. He quickly left the scene, Sirius trailed behind him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

“Slow down, Prongs!” Sirius called.

James didn’t respond, only slowing when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He paused there, allowing Sirius to catch up before muttering the password under his breath. As the portrait swung open, James turned to his friend with a scowl.

“I’m never listening to you again.”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius protested, throwing up his hands. “How was I supposed to know Laurier would swoop in right then and there?”

Inside the common room, Remus and Peter exchanged curious glances.

“What happened?” Remus asked, his tone cautious.

“She was right there,” James burst out, his voice rising with frustration. “And so was Laurier. He asked her out! They didn’t even see me—or Sirius, thankfully—but still!” He threw himself into an armchair, running a hand through his already messy hair.

The others stayed silent, unsure how to comfort him.

After an awkward three minutes, Peter cleared his throat and attempted to lighten the mood. “Why don’t we head to the Three Broomsticks? A bit of butterbeer might help take your mind off things.”

For a moment, James said nothing. Then, as if possessed by some newfound resolve, he stood abruptly.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, surprising everyone. “If she can be completely unbothered after I confessed my undying love for her, then ignore me, and worst of all—start dating some tosser who’s the polar opposite of me—then fine. I’ll move on too. Starting now. Let’s go.”

The other Marauders stared at him, dumbfounded. This wasn’t the James they knew—the James who would spend hours pestering Sirius about why you hadn’t replied to his letters, the James who badgered Remus for details about your every interaction, the James who constantly begged Peter for updates about you in the classes you shared.

It was as if the James Potter they knew had been replaced by someone else entirely.

The streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed with snow, the cold biting at their cheeks as the Marauders made their way to the Three Broomsticks. James led the group, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his jaw set tight. He was unusually quiet, his normal easy going demeanor replaced with something sharper, more defensive.

Sirius tried to break the silence first. “Prongs, mate, you know she didn’t do it to hurt you, right? She probably didn’t even know how you felt.”

James let out a sharp laugh, his breath clouding in the cold air. “She didn’t know? Oh, she knew. I wrote her a bloody letter, Padfoot. I poured my heart out. If she didn’t get the hint, then she’s thicker than I thought—and she’s not thick.”

Sirius grimaced, clearly regretting his choice of words. “Alright, alright, bad point. But still, Laurier? The guy’s got the personality of a Flobberworm.”

“Doesn’t matter,” James muttered. “Apparently, she likes Flobberworms.”

Peter, trying to ease the tension, piped up, “Well, maybe Laurier’s just a rebound, you know? She’ll realize what a tosser he is soon enough.”

Remus shot Peter a warning look, but James seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

“Rebound from what?” James muttered. “She’s never been with anyone to rebound from.”

They reached the Three Broomsticks, the warm glow from inside spilling out onto the snow-covered street. The group filed in, quickly finding a table in the back corner. The usual bustling energy of the pub seemed muted to James, his mind too occupied with replaying the moment he’d seen you say yes to Finn Laurier.

A round of butterbeers arrived at the table, and Sirius pushed a tankard in front of James. “Alright, here’s the plan,” Sirius said, leaning forward. “We’re going to have a laugh, you’re going to forget about Laurier, and tomorrow, you’ll go back to being your annoying, charming self. Sounds good?”

James took a long sip of his butterbeer, the warm liquid doing little to ease the ache in his chest. “Yeah, sure. Forget about her. Easy.”

“James,” Remus said gently, “it’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m not acting,” James snapped, though his tone softened almost immediately. “I’m fine. Really.”

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus, both of them unconvinced.

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[anachronistic-falsehood]

will never understand ppl who use sdv mods that turn the characters into pretty anime lookin twinks. like u got rid of harvey’s mustache and shane’s 5 oclock shadow. these r just different characters now what did u do to them

[sorikkung]

people interacting w wgoin in my notes... this would be a rly bad time to say all my writing will probably be on hiatus for the indefinite future huh

[amoressb]

𐙚 nerds do it best

pairings : nerd bf!jungwon x reader

synopsis : when your bf comes to class with a new look

note : this is sort of a long one !! not too sure how i feel about this one, i couldn’t get to the point honestly but i still hope you enjoy my rambling !!

You made it to your classroom a little earlier than usual but it doesn’t bother you much since you’ll be accompanied by your boyfriend jungwon. You and jungwon usually walk to school together since you guys live in the same neighborhood but different streets. He wasn’t answering your messages or calls which made you a little worried. He’s always the one to do those things but today it was the other way around and he doesn’t answer? weird. There was a possibility that he went to sleep later than usual so thats ultimately what you thought.

After getting your things out for class, you decided to go to the bathroom and stroll a bit before class since again you’re way earlier today. Soon or later you arrive back to your classroom and basically everyone is in there seats talking waiting for class to start in about a minute or two but wheres jungwon? He hasn’t taken his seat next to you, let alone even arrive since the desk and seat were both empty. You decided to send him a message again in hopes he’ll respond.

you : class is starting, where r u???

hello jungwon?

baby?

With no luck and class starting you had to put your phone away and just hope he’ll come in later. While waiting for him you were having a hard time focusing worrying about him but the sound of the classroom door drew you out of your daydream. There he was. Jungwon..but your smile on your face turned into surprise and confusion when you see he now has..BLONDE HAIR?? AND ITS CURLY???

Jungwon apologizes for coming in so late and makes his way to your seat with a cheeky yet embarrassed smile. “hi baby” he quietly giggles putting his stuff down and looks up to you only for you to be completely shocked. “alright class we have nothing left for today so you may talk quietly till your next period” the teacher says to which you immediately turn to jungwon and ask “when did this happen?!” you say as your hand reaches up to his hair and run your finger through it softly. “just last night..thats why i came in to late, i finished at around 2” he says and you notice just how tired he was with how slow he was talking and his eyes seem heavy.

“it looks really good on you tho. makes you even more cute and hot” you say completely mesmerized now that you can fully process it all. His now blond hair, glasses, his cute smile and beautiful eyes. It made you fall more in live with him. “why don’t you lay down and rest for the remainder of the class hm?” you ask him. He just hums and nods as he scoots closer to you and lays his head down on your arm thats on the desk and wraps an arm around your waist not forgetting to take off his glasses so they don’t get damaged.

The whole time he was sleeping, you were running your fingers through his hair softly and rubbing his back softly at times hoping to soothe him and make sure he gets enough sleep to make it through the rest of the day. Surprisingly tho his hair was still super soft even after possible heavy bleaching. You had to ask for his hair routine..

Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn’t take your eyes off of jungwon. Which wasn’t hard since you were together in all your classes AND sat next to each other. “you’re staring yk and you’re gonna miss everything” jungwon says with a cheeky smile as you stare at him with heart eyes. “i can just have your notes” you say in a trance looking at him. He giggles at your state but continues taking notes knowing he will indeed give you his notes.

By the end on the day, you took basically no notes. You were completely focused on one thing and one thing only. Jungwon. The second you guys step foot outside, you immediately jumped on him and gave him a gentle yet tight hug and started peppering his face with kisses. “AHHHH you’re such a pretty boy. ily ily ily!!!!” you say and by now jungwons face was quite red. All the attention you’ve been giving him today was amazing yes. He loved it. But it was too much for his heart to handle, so it was easy for him to fold in front you. “i love you too but can it wait till we’re out of everyone else’s view?” its not that he’s embarrassed about you showing your love to him. It’s the fact that hes so red right now. Thats whats embarrassing.

Too bad for him, that didn’t stop you. You made it all the way home, hand in hand, you going on and one about how his new look was absolutely perfect on him. “stay at my house for a bit?!” you said excitedly knowing he’d say yes and end up sleeping over. Thank goodness it was friday. “when do i ever decline to that invite” he smiles as you lead him into your house all the way to your room.

You both change clothes, him always having clothes left over at your house to the point you bought extra drawers just for him for how often hes over and you changing into one of his sweatshirts and your sweatpants. You decided to stay in your room and watch a movie. Immediately you pull him onto your bed, he got closer and laid on top of you, head in the crook of your neck. “so..what do you truly think of my hair my love” he smiles tiredly sort of knowing what you’re going to say.

“omg i love it. it looks absolutely perfect on you and the glasses too. you look so cute yet so hot. I LOVE IT!!” you ramble about how good his new look is. He smiles into your neck happy you like it. “really? cuz i didn’t think it looked good at all, felt really weird” he voiced out his worries a bit. You this whole time had your fingers running through his hair, moved in closer to him if that was even possible and gave him a kiss on his head. “no i think anything you do, you will always look handsome in my eyes” you smiled into his hair. “i love you jungwon” you move some hair from his face. “i love you too pretty” he leans up a bit to give you a quick kiss on the lips then back to his position falling asleep almost immediately. Blonde jungwon will forever have you weak in the knees.

[smutoperator]

Her Sister's Boyfriend

Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader (special participation: Jang Daah)

Kinkvember Chapter 5

Main kinks: cheating, foot fetish, handcuffing, worshipping

Word count: 4473.

After a long time being very busy, Wonyoung finally would be able to spend a weekend with her sister, which she missed so much. Although she and Daah would occasionally find each other at Starship's halls, they would go on for many days without being able to see each other.

"Sister, I came a little earlier than expected. I tried to text you a few times, but I guess you're still busy at work. Either way, I'll be at your guesthouse soon, bye." Wonyoung texted as she arived at Daah's guesthouse but couldn't find her. That was until she was surprised by a shocking scene going on.

"Ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhhh," Daah's moans echoed through the house as her boyfriend pinned her against the glass while having sex with her. Wonyoung was definitely surprised; that was the way she found out her sister had gotten a boyfriend. But instead she just gave you a wink and walked unnoticed past Daah, who was with her eyes closed and enjoying a mind-blowing orgasm from you.

But on the next day, as Daah went to shop for some groceries, Wonyoung made her move. She went to the kitchen with her body naked from the waist down, her long legs completely exposed, as you heard some noises at the kitchen and decided to check things out.

"Honey, are you already ba... what the fuck?" You were shocked when you saw Wonyoung's lower body fully exposed. Wonyoung giggled. "Why do all you guys panick in front of a bare pussy?" she asked. "I'm pretty sure you were inside my sister's own pussy when I arrived here yesterday," she said.

"I'm sorry, it's a little different when it's not my girlfriend," you say to Wonyoung. "Different?" she asks. "Why exactly? Pussies are very similar. They are wet and warm; they squirt and get stretched out by some cock that wants to cum insde them; isn't that how it works?" she says. "Although, to be honest, my pussy is a little different; my partners have said I have Korea's diamond pussy," Wonyoung brags about it.

"Diamond pussy, what do you mean?" you ask her. "Well, they say my pussy is so tempting it's much better than the others. They say it's worth more than a diamond. Why don't you have a taste and check it by yourself?" Wonyoung asks as she shoves your face against her pussy. You try to resist out of loyalty to your girlfriend, but her words were true. As soon as the amazing scent of Wonyoung's pussy invades your nostrils, any thoughts you had about Daah go out of the window.

You quickly start licking Wonyoung's folds, unable to resist the temptations of her diamond pussy. She's very vocal, telling where you need to attack, and by the wetness you can feel inside it, she's not faking it. "Yes, lick it like that, ohhhh fuck," she moans, pushing your head further against it. You lick it like crazy, amazed at how good her pussy smells.

"Oh, your tongue feels so good in my pussy," Wonyoung says. She moves her body left and right, meaning you get to enjoy every inch of her vagina. "Ahhh, ahhhh, yes," she moans. When she pushes her pussy a bit apart, reacting to the stimulation, you quickly go back and lick it. Soon, you replace your tongue with your fingers, making Wonyoung cream herself over the kitchen's floor. "I guess my sister will have to do some cleaning when she returns," she says.

"OH MY GOD, YESSSS," Wonyoung gleefully screams as she grinds her pussy in your face. Right now, it's no longer you that has control; it's her, as she just uses your face as a pleasure playground for her vagina until she gets what she craves for: her orgasm.

"Ahhh, that felt so good," Wonyoung says as her juices cover your face. "I think you deserve a gift for making me cum," she says, taking your shirt off. "Wow, you're so strong; no wonder my sister was so in love with you yesterday," she continues, paying close attention to your muscular frame.

Wonyoung reaches under your pants and confirms what she already knew: a muscular guy like you had a massive cock that was already throbbing for her. "My sister is shorter than me; I bet that big cock was hitting her cervix all the time," Wonyoung says as she reminds herself of yesterday's sex moment between you and Daah. She kisses you and touches your balls. "Hope you saved some cum for me and didn't drain it all yesterday," she says.

"That's so big and hard, oh my god, so fucking huge," Wonyoung says as she gets impressed by your cock. If there is something Wonyoung has seen countless times, it's big cocks. But it's more than just size; it's shape—the huge throbbing tip popping out of your foreskin, the erection pointing to the sky, the big balls. She caresses it and keeps praising your cock, even lying about never seeing a cock that big before to pretend she's more innocent than she is.

Wonyoung spits on your cock and jerks it off before getting on her knees to suck it. You just groan as her dick-sucking lips tightenly envelope your dick, with her moaning hard as she gets very sloppy, saliva coming out of her chin. "Fuck my face; I want to feel every inch of it in my throat," Wonyoung says, and you do it just as she asks. Well, except it's Wonyoung's face fucking your cock, because she pushes it hard against your shaft every single time.

"Shit, shit, stop; you're going to fast; I'm gonna," you say. "Cum?" Wonyoung says. "That's exactly what I want," Wonyoung says, kissing your tip and then licking your shaft from top to bottom before landing on your balls as she keeps jerking it off. "God, it feels so good, shittt,' you say as she savors your cock like an ice cream and licks your tip before shoving it in her face. She then jerks your foreskin off with your tip in her mouth. "Ohhhh shit, yeah," is all you can say.

But they say there are actions to speak louder than words, and you ejaculating all over Wonyoung's throat after her blowjob session certainly qualifies. She tastes it and swallows it all. "So salty," she says. "Good boy, I want you to fuck me now; let's go to bed," she continues.

Wonyoung carries you to the same bed you and Daah had sex. She gets herself dressed in enticing waist-high stockings, wearing all black lingerie alongside red high heels; her appearance with this outfit gets you hard shortly after, which she notices. "Good to see this cock going up all for me," she says. She cuffs your hands to the bed and sits on top of your already naked body, shoving her feet in your face for you to sniff and lick. "Doesn't it smell good, baby?" she asks. "Yes," you answer without hesitation, being true to yourself as her feet seem to have on you the same effect her pussycat did. Your imagination runs wild as you try to lick her feet, but she pulls out at the last second. "Patience, baby," she says.

Wonyoung keeps running her feet over your face, teasing you endlessly. She then crosses her legs, giving you a quick opening of her pussy before shutting it down. "How much do you want to fuck it, enough to give your girlfriend up for me?" she asks. "Yes," you answer, completely hypinotized by this goddess. You always felt Daah had been a great girlfriend, but her younger sister just seems to be on another level. A one in a thousand years level, to be more precise.

"You did great work when you were in that kitchen," Wonyoung says. "And behavior like this deserves to be rewarded, don't you think?" She continues, walking around the bed before she pushes her feet against your torse and prepares herself for her next move.

Wonyoung rips off her recently bought stockings right at her bottom area. No big deal; she has lots of money to buy plenty of them. She quickly sits on your face. It's incredible that she doesn't have the biggest ass, but she knows exactly where to sit to suffocate you to the fullest. "That's right, just like that," she says as you grab her waist and quickly eat her pussy while she grinds on your face. 

"That's your reward for doing such a good job," Wonyoung says as she moans hard. You try to touch every inch of her body. "You know how special you are? Eating that diamond pussy the whole country craves for," she continues, showing her through-the-roof self-confidence.

Your face turns into Wonyoung's personal playground. You don't know how that's even possible, but her pussy rides your face as if it were actually riding your cock. "That's right, show me how excited you are for your special treat," Wonyoung says as she keeps shoving her folds in your face. She then turns around and takes her attention to your cock. As she starts jerking it off, you get an amazing view of her cute ass twerking on your face. "Ahhhh, that's so good," Wonyoung says as your tongue keeps licking her pussy.

"Good boy deserves some special treat," Wonyoung says, deepthroating your cock as if your big shaft were nothing. She takes it all the way in from the get go, drooling all over it like the needy slut she is. She rubs her hand all over it and gets quite sloppy, engulfing it like those sword eaters from a circus. You spank her ass trying to cope with the heat, making her moan as you do so. "Such a good boy, such a good boy," she keeps repeating as her cunt suffocates you to the maximum.

You move into Wonyoung's feet, tasting it and licking her toes. "Love the way you appreciate my tasy feet, especially my perfect toes," she says, keeping the work on your cock. "Oh fuck," you say. "Come on, baby, don't cum again," she orders as you kiss her feet like a gentleman while she sucks your cock like a slut.

Your mouth is now full of Wonyoung's fingers, while your fingers are all over her pussy. "You know how much I love that?" she asks, giving your cock some crazy deepthroat to show her appreciation. "Tell me how much you want me to sit on this big cock?" Wonyoung asks as she wraps your face between her feet and her ass, moaning when you tongue her pussy. You answer positively, but she can't hear it; your words are getting lost inside her cunt like everything that gets inside it; hopefully soon your cock.

"I know you're eager to get inside my diamond pussy, but first I want to tease you a little more," Wonyoung says as she runs her soles over your shaft. "Seem like you loved my toes a lot, so I think you'll love them wrapped around that big cock too," Wonyoung says as she triple teams your cock: her feet and hand jerking it off, her mouth licking your tip. "That's really good, isn't it? Aren't you very spoliled?" Wounyoung asks as her feet now massage your shaft all by themselves.

"You want it to slide in my pussy don't you? Tell me how much you want it; I want you to beg for it," Wonyoung says as she keeps jerking your shaft off with her feet. "Yes," you say, pushing your face closer to hers despite being cuffed. "Well, here's your little treat for being so patient," Wonyoung replies.

Wonyoung rubs your cock against her entrance and then squats on it. "Just feeling that tight grip of that big cock in my pussy," she says. "Ahhh, yeah, nice and slow, spread it open for me," she begs as she starts bouncing on your dick, her ride being very straightforward and powerful.

"That's right, it feels good, doesn't it?" Wonyoung asks you as she pushes your cock deeper in her pussy and increases the pace. But it's the moment where she rubs her toes on your balls that drives you crazy. "That's right, give it to me; show me that good boy is putting in some extra work, yeah, yeah," she says as you push your cock upwards to pound her diamond pussy despite your limited mobility cuffed to the bed, as your willingness to fuck Wonyoung tops everything.

But Wonyoung quickly regains control and just moves on with her insane ride, going fast and deep almost as if bouncing on your big cock was like a regular job to her. She grinds her pussy on your cock and laughs like a maniac, then presses her hands on your chest and pushes hard. You try to counter. "Give it to me nice and fucking deep, oh fuck, yes, harder, harder, ahhhh," she moans when you finally grab her waist and give her the pounding that she needs so much.

"Oh, fuck," you say as your fast pace almost makes you cum. Wonyoung kisses you and enjoys the pounding you give her. "Keep taking it deep," she demands. But it's her who takes matters into her hands, spreading her legs and just demolishing your cock with fast and loud bounces.

"Shit," you groan as Wonyoung starts doing what she's known the best for—her signature spinning ride where she hits your cock from all sides while rotating on it. "Show me what a good fucking boy you are," she demands. "AHHHHHH," you scream as the walls of her tight cunt smash your cock into pieces, squeezing it as hard as they can.

"Oh yeah, that's right; keep stretching it. Shape my walls with your cock," Wonyoung demands as she continues to bounce on it like a maniac. She puts her feet in your mouth and teases you, then switches to a sideways ride while fingering her pussy and then starts spinning again. You grab her waist, trying to control her, but she clearly shows who is in command. Well, that is until Wonyoung makes the next move.

Wonyoung takes your handcuffs off, and you immediately grab her, carry fucking her all over the bedroom. "I want you to show me what you can do; unleash the beast inside you," she demands as you give her ass a couple taps. You get on top of her and start worshipping her body with plenty of kisses in all her parts: her pussy, her boobs, her belly, her mouth���nothing escapes from you.

"Good boy, that's right, I want you to worship every inch of my body," Wonyoung demands as you keep kissing her all the way to her feet, to which you pay special attention, putting her fingers up your mouth and kissing her soles. "Show me what you want; show me what you've been begging for," she continues. You lick her pussy next as Wonyoung puts herself in a fetal position to watch you worship her diamond hole. "Doesn't I have the best pussy in the whole world?" she asks. "Yes," you promptly answer with your mouth still full of her folds.

"Get deeper in that pussy," Wonyoung demands as she pushes your face in its direction. "That's so fucking good," she moans as you keep working your mouth in it, sending her to the heavens. But what she wants the most is your cock, as you put Wonyoung in a mating press position and fuck her while massaging her toes behind her head, making her moan really loud.

"YOU'RE SO FUCKING DEEP IN ME, YESSS," Wonyoung screams as your hard thrusts make her body get pushed back and forth. "That cock is so wide, it stretches out my tiny little pussy so good," Wonyoung moans. "Harder, harder, fucking use it," she keeps begging as you groan with her pussy squeezing your shaft further. Your thrusts get more and more aggressive; her moans get louder and louder. "YES, YES, YES, YES, AH, AH, AH, AH," Wonyoung moans as she kisses you.

"AHHHHHH," it's your turn to scream as you pound her really hard. It's really difficult for you to hold still and not pump her pussy full of your seeds, but you stay put in spite of the extreme pressure Wonyoung's tight cunt exerts on your big cock. "Oh yeah, keep going, just like that, FUCK, YOU HIT ME SO DEEP, AHHHH," Wonyoung demands and then screams.

"Show me you're a good boy; keep holding that cum until I tell you to," Wonyoung says. "You're putting in a lot of hard work; you truly deserve the honor to cum inside the best pussy in the world," she says. You give her ass some little taps, and she giggles as you hit her deep. "That cock is doing such a good job," she says.

You take a break just to follow her instructions and avoid cumming earlier. But Wonyoung isn't a girl of taking breaks, kneeling to suck your cock as soon as you pull out of her. "Oh fuck, your mouth is so perfect, yes," you groan as Wonyoung pushes you to the edge, sucking your cock very sloppily and jerking it off with her big hands. "Oh shit," you say as she deepthroats your massive length with ease once again and increases the pace, sucking it hard until you have to give her butt a little tapping to not cum.

"Hmm, you want to see that ass bouncing while I ride your cock?" Wonyoung asks. "Well, there it is," she says, mounting on top of it in reverse cowgirl. "Oh fuck, ahhhh yeah, right there," Wonyoung moans as she is as happy as ever. "Slow down," you try to tell her. "No baby, I'm not slowing down; you're gonna take me at my best, that's right, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHH," Wonyoung says as her cute butt keeps hitting your crotch. You decide not to slow down and push upwards. 

"Oh yeah, fuck, that's right, that's right, put in some fucking work," Wonyoung says as you hit her hard and deep before you tap her ass once again to survive to fight another round. "You deserve a reward, baby," she says, pulling out and sucking your cock a little more while you eat her pussy for a sexy 69.

"You're gonna follow my orders, right?" Wonyoung says. "Get up here and fuck me from behind next," she orders. You start massage her pussy in preparation as she puts her face down and ass up, moaning as you keep worshipping her fuckhole. "You're doing so well," she praises you.

"Come here, you say as you grab her waist and insert your cock in her pussy from behind. "Oh fuck, that's right, nice and deep," Wonyoung moans. "Wow, you're so tight, oh shit" you say as you grab her waist. Wonyoung counters and bounces on your cock even on all fours. "YEAH, YEAH," she repeats as she keeps moaning. "OHHHH, OHHHH, OHHH," you groan, trying not to cum and playing with her toes to distract yourself.

"Keep that ass up," you tell Wonyoung as her feet jerk your cock off while you thrust inside her pussy, which starts queefing as she manages to squeeze your shaft both from the inside and outside. You have to stop, punishing her for being so naughty as you masturbate her pussy, but she stays focused and reaches with her long hands to keep stroking your shaft.

"AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH," Wonyoung moans hard as you make her cum, but not without a price, as her jerking off makes you cover the bedsheets with your semen as well. "You're not gonna make me cum unpunished; where is my good boy? You're behaving very badly now," Wonyoung says. "Now get this cock hard again and please give it back to me," she continues.

You do just as she demands, getting hard as soon as the walls of her pussy tighten around your cock once again. "Perfect, just like that, fuck, yes, yes, yes," Wonyoung moans as you pound her from behind, tying her arms behind her back. "Spread it open, fucking spread that pussy open," she demands as she moves back into shaking her hips and moves them up and down your big cock. You answer by grabbing her shoulders and then spreading her mouth. "That's right, take it, take it," she says, never stopping to bounce as both her cheeks and your crotch clash and make loud noises clapping against each other.

"That's it, such a good boy," Wonyoung says as you pound her hard and fast. You try to match her horniness, but she's just on another level, wearing you out after a couple minutes to save yourself from an orgasm while her sweaty body keeps moving up and down your shaft regardless. "Show me you're not done, that's right," she keeps commanding as soon as you regain strength to fuck her hard again. But Wonyoung is just a different demon and keeps moving her hips in a way that the walls of her pussy now hit your cock sideways. "OHHHHH," you groan hard, gettung caught by surprise.

Even on all fours, it's Wonyoung who controls the pace, with you avoiding yet another close call by tapping her ass and giving yourself a break, begging for a blowjob. "Come suck it, oh fuck," you say to her as Wonyoung grabs your shaft and takes it in her throat like a demon. You shove your monster cock all the way in her, going balls deep and spanking her ass yet she barely moves, coating it full of her saliva and performing the loudest blowjob ever as you grab her hair and fuck her face.

You use the lubrication from her saliva to fuck Wonyoung in a spooning position and get a great look at her pretty and horny face. "That's right, that's right," she says. You kiss Wonyoung and finger her pussy as you fuck it, lifting one of her legs and attacking her cunt hard. "Fuck me until you cum, ahhhh, yeah, yeah," Wonyoung says as you seem keen on not stopping. You choke her in between kisses and then spread her legs. "So good, so good," she says as she moves to kiss you and watch your cock bulge under her. "AHHHHH, THAT'S SO DEEP," she screams as she looks at you with naugthy eyes, giggling as you push hard against her pussy and she fingers it.

"I'm gonna cum for you if you cum inside me," Wonyoung says as you get more animalesque, groaning hard at each thrust. "You're hitting me so deep; time to finish deep inside my pussy," Wonyoung begs. You kiss her feet and worship it as your love for her only increases, even forgetting about your girlfriend. "Please, give me your cum," she begs as you two share kisses, and she's now in a featal position, her long legs over her head.

You feed Wonyoung your cock as she licks her chops afterwards, using her saliva for another session of deep pounding as you two have some very passionate sex. "You know how deep that is? Your cock is so big, I feel so jealous of my sister for finding you; I need to share you with her or make you mine altogether, fuckkkk," Wonyoung says.

"Let it out, let it out; your reward for being such a good boy will be breeding the best pussy in the world. Have you ever cum inside my sister?" Wonyoung asks. "Well, yesterday it was the first time," you answer. "After how many encounters?" Wonyoung asks again. "Fifteen," you answer. "Yet here you are, ready to cum inside me after just meeting me 30 minutes ago, bad boy," Wonyoung says. "Well, I can't blame you; my pussy is just that good," she continues.

"Fuck that feels so good," you say to Wonyoung. "I know," she says. "Now fuck me hard, because that's what I want; show me how much you love this perfect pussy; get ready to give me the best fucking load you can. Put that cum deep inside my pussy," she continues.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Eleven shots. You finally unload your cum gun inside Wonyoung's pussy. Her walls squeeze you so hard your cock pops out of it as your white sperm runs down into the bedheets. You even manage to leave a couple drops on her beautiful right foot as your cocks come out and the remaining cum lands perfectly in there for her to put it in her mouth and lick it. You groan like crazy as you're completely drained. 

"Let me milk every last drop," Wonyoung says, massaging her feet on it and letting a few sparkles of semen come out and fall on her belly. "Greay work, you're such a good boy," Wonyoung says as she praises you, who can't even think straight after she showed how much of a ball drainer she was.

And just like that, Daah opens the door.

"What the fuck is that?" Wonyoung's older sister asks. "Daah, I can explain," you say, using the default statement. "Not sure you can explain fucking my sister for 30 minutes; I saw everything," Daah replies.

"You were there the whole time?" you say, confused. "Yes, behind the door, you're so stupid, but I get it; she's young and hot," Daah says.

"Sister I think I can compensate for being a cheating slut," Wonyoung says. "Not sure how," Daah replies. 

"Well, your boyfriend said yesterday was the first time she came in your pussy," Wonyoung says. "That's right," Daah said. "Well, has he ever fucked you in the ass?" Wonyoung asks.

"No, I'm scared of even trying," Daah says. "Well, I can teach you, sister, let's go to the shower," Wonyoung says.

Wonyoung and Daah line up their tall, naked bodies for another round of sex. You put your cock in your girlfriend's ass for the first time. And she struggles.

"AHHHHHHH," Daah screams, not ready for your massive cock in her ass.

"Well, sister, it looks like you'll have to follow my lead," Wonyoung says.

"You're such a naughty girl, Wonyoung," Daah says, handing your cock to her younger sister for a 2nd round.

"Watch me, learn from the best; look how easy it is." Wonyoung brags as your full length goes in her ass without even a peep.

"How does she even do that? I guess she's indeed a one in a thousand years girl," Daah thinks to herself. And she's right.

"Come taste it," Wonyoung tells her sister, as you quickly bust inside her asshole.

"Wow, that's delicious," Daah says, tasting your cum.

"I think you're finally ready; I can go now."

[rinnstars]

jealousy jealousy!

when hes just a little (very) jealous of someone else

bllk boys (nagi, rin, reo) x reader: insecurities, fluff!!!!!!!, established r/s except for rin (but you two get into one by the end!), nagis part was deleted and rewritten TT, not proof read + likes n reblog r appreciated <3

nagi seishiro:

“eh… you cleared this level already…? i thought you were struggling with it..?” nagi’s voice muffled against the pile of blankets his face was smushed in, looking up at you confusedly from your phone, displaying the game level cleared.

its not that he doesnt believe you cleared it all by yourself, if anything youre pretty good at this game despite only playing it for him. its simply because you were complaining on call with him about it, and all of the sudden youve finished it? he doesnt quite believe it, hes gone through that level too and he knows its pretty challenging, taking a little more energy than it really should have even for nagi himself.

“ah.. my seatmate cleared it for me this morning when he saw me playing it!” its strange: your bright voice always wakes him up a little, bringing light into his otherwise dull and boring life. yet this time, he feels his heart pang a little.

its troublesome. he doesnt like feeling this way: his heart tightens at your words, he unconsciously grips your phone a little, only realising when the screen protector cuts him a little, and he feels as though hes getting all fired up strangely the same way he gets on the field. if anything, nagi doesnt even know who this mysterious seat partner is, and he sure doesnt want to know: its troublesome to socialise with others after all. and yet, if there’s anything he’s now set on doing as though his life depends on it, as though your relationship with him depends on it, as though his ego depends completely on this: he wants to confront this guy and challenge him in an actual game competition. he knows he’ll win, he has spent his entire life in bed playing mobile game or spending late hours of the night on grinding back to immortal on different variety of games from valorant to league of legends to overwatch. he’s covered his grounds he thinks, that maybe all those time wasn’t wasted at all other than the fact that you weren’t with him during those time: lending him your lap to lie down on when he plays his switch or phone, lending him your support when you sit on his lap on his chair squirming to keep it a challenge to win and carry his team still, even more lending him your accounts when he plays with you, helping carry you in any game you want or even just building your islands together on animal crossing or minecraft on more chill days.

nagi doesn’t get it - really, its the same ego that drives him in football, not wanting to lose. his eyes flicker with sudden fire and intensity that only burns whenever he plays games with you: whether that be when you die in a pvp game and him immediately straightening his back to avenge you, earning aces for rounds straight until the screen flashes with victory, or when someone talks bad about you in the voice channel and is immediately reacted with nagi’s voice that defends your honour as if he’s your knight in shining armour, or even simply the way his hands click on the mouse quickly whenever he sees a zombie go near you in the dark cave whilst playing something as chill as minecraft. if anything, nagi think it might just apply to real life too: his hands tugging at yours as though on instinct in record speed when you trip on another branch to prevent you from falling, his glare at others whenever they bother you too much that is visible through the awkward smile you give and your hands finding its way to fiddle with his shirt.

and the same ego is clear to him now: he doesn’t want anyone else to be yours, he wants to be the only one to help you. selfish maybe, but he’ll deliver - the way he tracks your figure in the map from valorant to minecraft to even genshin, the way he fights to protect you from the enemies, his hands animatedly clicking at his mouse and the other navigating his keyboard all at the same time in order to garner the best and most successful result that he knows will get you to smile oh so brightly that makes his heart pound, or even the way he charges his old switch just to help you play animal crossing on his own account, maintaining your village and neglecting his all to make a cute little house for you inspired by your pinterest board even though it takes him all night.

and to you, its clear: he’s upset at what you’ve done with the way he deflates even more than he already is. and it clicks. a routine and cycle you’ve unintentionally broken - you complaining about a level or rank you can’t get out of, he’ll listen and ask you about it the next day when youre back at his house, and he’ll fix it just as he always down: an unspoken agreement really.

“sorry sei… i still can’t clear the next level.. help me seiiii…” and suddenly he’s back lying right on your pillowy thighs: the way his eyes that was just seconds ago filled with intensity that you think simply doesn’t fit his face closes with comfort as you massage his scalp again with his fingers, the way his face smushes against your thighs comfortably rather than the weird feeling of him hovering on your thigh as though he wanted to get up, the way his hands no longer grip your phone tightly and instead holds your hand, fitting it right in perfectly.

“kay… its not bothersome with you..” he says, a confession of love from himself. he’ll never find it annoying if its you: he thinks he would play the dinosaur game from having no internet for hours on end if you liked watching him play it, he thinks he’d fight against the same boss for even days straight if you said you needed the materials for it for your character, and he knows he will most definitely help you finish any level you can’t. and something he wont say, a quiet confession springs in his mind: he loves you and most definitely he loves to play for you. and based on you willingly passing him your phone, maybe, just maybe, he wont give in to his impulses and actually find that guy - only shooting daggers at him that sends a shiver down his spine when he waits outside your class for you to release after school.

rin itoshi:

its not the first time rin felt this pang in his chest: he felt it when his older brother kicks the ball to any other member of the football team to shoot for the goal, he felt it when his teammates seems to be able to shoot he ball even more accurately than he does, he felt it when his brother praised yoichi instead of him. he’s always regarded that feeling as something football related: he’s never felt too much emotions outside of his passion and hobbies either way - but lately, he thinks he feels it a lot whenever he’s with you. perhaps, the seed from before blue lock has started blooming: the day you boarded the bus with him to the facility that was hours away from yours and his house that made his cheeks stain with pink as he sits right beside you, eating the filling breakfast you made for him, beaming at him so brightly as you wave him goodbye that makes him hesitate for the first time in his life.

and right now, he doesn’t get it. its not like there’s a lack of chocolates at his desk, if anything its quite the opposite. there’s practically a mountain of chocolates of different variety that would surely fulfill his secret sweet tooth - from dark chocolate in a heart shape mold bought from a fancy shop, from milk chocolates in squares sprinkled with heart shaped sweet bits on top, or even strawberries dipped in white chocolate. and yet, if looks could kill, that guy who’s holding YOUR chocolate box would have died, guts spilled right on the classroom door like those cliche horror games he plays. rin doesn’t get it: its not as if youre close witht that guy,youre his seat partner for all the years you’ve spent together since kindergarten, and he’s sure that that guys no one special right? and its out of character when rin thinks harder about a nobody in his class: do you like band kids like that lame guy? (he did learn the guitar for fun when he was younger, should bring it out from under his bed again?) do you like guys who are a little better at math? (maybe he should study for this weeks math quiz he thinks) or do you like guys who have leadership roles? (he’ll ask to be captain of the football team, its obvious anyways, he’s the best in this dull football club in his school)

usually, when he feels this same pang in his chest, he ignores it, keep mum about it and just work harder instead until the glass shards leave his heart - and yet he can’t do that strangely despite the routine between you two staying: where you and him sit together at the back of the class, playing your phone at the back oops the class unbeknownst to the teacher, giggling and whispering about whatever, your feet kicking his occasionally from the lack of distance that makes his face a little pink. yet, here he is eyeing that last chocolate underneath your table, its unlike the others he noted - unlike the mini chocolate cup you passed to that guy who he wishes to punch simply because of the smug smirk that was plastered on his face, unlike the small chocolate bars you presented to the other girls in the class, and even more special definitely from the chocolate candies you sneak into both his and yours mouth during class. its heart-shaped, reminiscent of the other chocolate now angrily thrown into one plastic bag that he plans to eat whilst crying about this the second he reaches home, a ribbon tied messily clearly with much effort too, and even pasted mini heart papers.

and its not until recess when youre alone with rin in class as per routine, everyone leaving for lunch does he do something about it for the first time in his life about this nagging and tugging feeling that makes him feel like a little kid again. and it just might have been the universe way of telling the two of you how connected you two are: as you struggle to find the courage to give him the slightly burnt chocolate brownies inside the heart shaped box.

“i.. like you.” “f-for you rin..!”

its simultaneous, at the exact same time, where the clock struck 1:00pm.

the confession he’s kept all these years, since the first day he’s met you at kindergarten where you two practically were fixed at the hips ever since: seat partners since primary school all the way up until now where youre both now seventeen and about to go to university and him to become a professional football player soon. ten years - ten years of looking at you as if he’s so far away when youre with anyone but him as he feels the friendship bracelet around his wrist for reassurance, ten years of writing confession letters after confession letters and poetries only to rip them all apart, yelling into his pillow and kicking his feet like a maiden in love, ten years of looking at you pass chocolates every single time during valentines except to him. its unlike rin, he’s never been good at expressing himself, believing in action over words - the way he carries your files and extra bags after school, the way he always listens and remembers what you say and even buy things you’ve mentioned offhandedly with his own pocket money, the way he never hesitates to carry you back home even when his leg is all jelly from football practice that he doesn’t tell you.

and its the same for you. the valentine gift you’ve made for him all these years: spanning from chocolate chip cookies you’ve made, to macrons you bought for him from his favourite bakery, or even his favourite blueberry pie your mother bought you - and yet all left underneath the table, secretly placed back in your bag for you to eat it whilst crying about your cowardice. and you hate it: these ten years of watching him carry a plastic bag full of physical confessions without any interest, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth even when youre staying over and opening a pack of these chocolates when you’re hungry, these ten years of looking bitterly at the friendship bracelet that is nothing more than a bitter reminder of how you’ll never be more because of your own cowardice, these ten years of looking at rin accept everyone’s chocolates but yours.

and for the first time in years, rin thinks it’s just right - when he places his lips on yours, melting into this sweet kiss with the brownie in his mouth. and he thinks you might just taste sweeter than the brownie melting between the two of yours mouth.

reo mikage:

he doesn’t get this tight feeling wrapping like thorns around his heart - seeing you so close with a classmate, smiling as he seems to be teaching you something through the windows of your classroom. it’s clearly not the exhaustion from climbing all the way from his class at the first level to yours at the fourth with this being the millionth time hes done this like a instinct every time the bell rings, its not the way your hands seems to linger so close to his practically touching someone’s else hands that gets reo sweating cold beads of sweat down his neck, and its not jealousy at how someone else might just be better than him. realistically he knows, you’re probably just having difficulties in your academics, a normal human thing but he can’t help the bitter bile that rises to his mouth - he can teach you too evident from the library dates where he helps you go through your homework and teach you the same concepts like hes made for it and hes definitely better than that classmate right? hes smarter, he tops the class every single exam without fail with his name always plastered on the results sheet as number one, he’s much more charming he would like to believe with your smile always reaching your eyes that he adores, and he’s much more useful with the way he can teach you whilst helping you with other things like while buying you food on his phone, fixing your broken pens, or something. he swallows the bitter bile, walking into the practically empty class with just you and that.. classmate, scruntising his every detail in his mind all whilst putting on the charming facade hes too used to having on - one that you can tell by the furrowing of your eyebrows at him as he grabs a chair and slides it beside you as though looking at your homework.

“haven’t i taught you this before?” its petty, he knows, its quite literally a new chapter, one that he knows your class just started on. but he thinks it does the job when he sees your classmate suddenly feel uncomfortable - perhaps its the tone of his voice that underlies irritation clearly meant for him, perhaps its the subtle passive aggressive smile aimed at him, or perhaps its the intimidation of having reo mikage right next to you clearly upset with you. he doesn’t really enjoy the title placed on him, if anything sometimes he loathes the reputation that comes with his family name, with people looking at him as only that and never as reo - but just this time does he thank the stars for his luck.

“huh?” he can tell, youre confused, and he thinks youre just so oblivious or maybe hes just weirdly jealous of something so insignificant that even your brain can’t comprehend him at all. but he doesn’t mind it as he glanced sideways at your classmate - awkwardly and quickly packing his bag, leaving just you and reo sitting at your desk.

and its awkward silence, with him looking at your homework that he just received just an hour ago and hasn’t started on too, and you looking confused at him. its not unfamiliar to see reo in your class, its practically routine at this point, except he usually just stands outside until youre done with packing your bag, taking it right from your hands the second you step out of your class.

“so.. who was that?” he cant help the way his voice suddenly sounds so soft, as though its about to crack, as if hes about to cry. he tries to clear his throat to even it out, and even so, he definitely sounded a little too out of character - out of character for how he presents himself: nothing short of perfect. and he knows youve caught it, the cats out of the bag, when he sees the sides of your mouth tug up a little as you zip your bag.

“just a classmate reo really…” your voice a little teasing, looking at him knowingly, as his hands tug at your bag, slinging it around his right shoulder where it should belong. and he thinks its alright: the way you ruffle his hair that feels just so right that he leans in even closer and even bends down a little like a dog desperate for a pat, the way you beam at him that he knows is meant only for him that shifts the rest of your class to be nothing more than just a blur, the way your bag fits snugly on his shoulder as it was meant to be.

“yeah? it better be!~” he chirps, jealousy no longer gripping onto him like a chain tugging at his neck, reminiscent of the feeling he feels in his stuffy and restrictive home. and he knows it’ll be that way until the end of time: the way your hands tugs at his tightly as though you never want to let go either, the way you look at him as though he’s your entire world, the way you understand him even through a few words. soulmates, maybe, and perhaps he has no reasons to ever feel this bitter feeling that burns his throat.

[a-chaotic-dumbass]

ppl who genuinely think that jon should just be a king-consort who doesnt interfere with politics and just lets his wife do all the dirty work should consider themselves opps bc were not reading the same books im sorry to say. ppl r so obsessed with making jon out to be some ambitionless wifeguy and a lapdog and thats literally so annoying bc thats a completely different guy!!! ur making up a guy in ur brain!!!! he joins the nights watch bc hes ambitious bc thats the one place where bastards may rise high hes daydreamed and pretended to be the lord of winterfell as a child hes been groomed by joer mormont FOR leadership and IS a leader now and when stannis offers jon winterfell and val he WANTS it he wants it so bad but refuses it to lead the nights watch. if u dont want that then u dont want jon idk what to tell u

[harryspet]

well kept [4] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, DUBCON/NONCON, corporal punishment, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: longest chapter yayyyy :):)

word count: 4.9k

In which Rafe's control pushes you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

well kept masterlist

Rafe Cameron could handle his liquor, you learned that quickly. After accompanying him to a few dinner parties and watching him down several shots of whiskey before finishing an entire pitcher of beer, you wondered how he maintained his physique. He never slurred his words or stumbled, he seemed entirely happier when he was drinking, a completely different person. 

He’d forced you to drink a cocktail and that quickly made you feel wobbly. The nights were a blur of conversations and you were tethered to reality by the feeling of Rafe’s hand on your lower back. He never introduced you as his assistant to his rich friends. You were just Y/N. “She’s cute, yeah?” He would say to people. Usually your dress was way too short or your cleavage was spilling from your top.  Unfortunately, you sipped your drink when you were nervous.

You were exhausted by the end of the night and a little tipsy though you hadn’t dared to drink nearly as much as he did. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you home,” He’d said, hand on your waist as he guided you out of the restaurant. Sometimes it made you feel protected. Like Rafe could hurt you, sure, but at least no one else could. 

“Should you be driving?” You’d mistakenly asked, words slipping out before you could stop them. He took it as a challenge to his manhood and the look on his face made you regret it. 

“I’m fine,” He’d looked at you sharply before he commanded, “Get in the fucking car.”

You didn’t hesitate any longer and let him him help you into the passenger side of his truck. He kept his eyes focused on the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, and you hoped he wasn’t angry, maybe just deep in thought. 

When he pulled up to your apartment complex, you fumbled for the door handle, eager to escape the tension. But before you could step out, Rafe’s hand was on your arm.

“I’m coming up,” he stated firmly.

“It’s a weeknight,” you said, trying to find a reason that would convince him otherwise. “My roommates are probably asleep by now.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “I’ll be quiet,” a hint of his boozed up charm returned to his voice. Reluctantly, you led him upstairs.

When you opened the door, you were surprised to find your roommates, Imani and Angel, still awake, standing in the kitchen with a bottle of wine between them. Their laughter filled the small apartment. Their expressions shifted to complete shock at the sight of Rafe behind you. You smiled, trying to give the impression that all was well, that it was completely normal to be returning to your apartment with your drunk, billionaire boss. 

Imani, with her flawless olive complexion and neatly styled curls, scrutinized the scene with furrowed brows. Beside her, Angel stood tall and vibrant, her unruly tight curls escaping their single hair tie, her mouth agape in astonished silence as she stared at you. Both much more beautiful than you, a sad thought crossed your mind, and you worried for a short millisecond that Rafe would realize he’d made a mistake in picking you. 

“Hey,” You did you best to sound casual, “Rafe, this is Imani and Angel. Imani, Angel, this is Rafe.”

“Your boss, Rafe?” Imani asked incredulousy, her arms crossing over her faded band tee. “I don’t understand-”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Cameron,” Angel blurted out, practically bouncing on her bare feet, “Can I offer you a drink? We both had a shitty day so we whipped out the strawberry moscato.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys. And thanks, tempting offer but I’m quite satisfied at the moment,” His voice was smooth and effortlessly disarming. He placed a hand on your waist, pulling you into him, and your eyes widened, “I’m just here to make sure Y/N gets a good night’s rest.”

Both Imani and Angel looked at you with a mixture of shock and curiosity. Imani’s eyes, in particular, were sharp and disapproving, clearly questioning how you had kept this from her. Her gaze was heavy with the unspoken question: How could you be involved with Rafe and not have told her?

“Make yourself at home,” Angel said, clearly more excited than angry, and Imani’s intense gaze snapped to her, “I’m about to make popcorn and we’re about to watch a movie if you guys-”

“Angel,” Imani whispered harshly, “Leave them alone.”

“I’m j-j-just gonna, uhm, goodnight, guys,” You took Rafe’s arm and led him away from the tension filled kitchen to the narrow hallway that led to your bedroom. You felt he weight of Imani’s disapproval lingering in the air. 

Your small apartment that you shared with two other people was a stark contrast to the luxurious settings you’d been in over the last few weeks. As Rafe’s eyes wandered over your tiny room, the awkwardness of the situation continued to build. 

“This is …cozy,” He said after you shut the door. He was already taking off his suit jacket and undoing his cuff links. Was Rafe Cameron really going to spend the night here with you? Maybe he was drunker than you thought.  “So this is where you unwind after a long day of dealing with me?” 

Was that humor you heard in his voice? Dealing with him. You more than dealt with Rafe Cameron. You practically let him walk you around on a leash. 

“Do you feel bad for me yet?” You tried to joke but there was too much animosity in your tone. 

He chuckled before starting to undo his belt, “I try not to feel bad for other people. Life’s easier that way. Sides’, this won’t be your life for much longer.”

As he stripped down to his underwear, he started to settle into your bed, the lines between your professional and personal worlds now blurrier than ever. 

“I wasn’t expecting t-t-t-t … to have company tonight,” You said, gathering his pile of clothes from your carpet and doing your best to fold them and place them neatly on top of your dresser. 

“I’m full of surprises, sweetheart,” He winked as he folded his arms behind his head, and you had to avert your eyes from his statue-esque physique. Broad shoulders, thick arms and chest, and abs that acted like an arrow that pointed down to his … “Plus, I wanted to see where you lived.”

“Now you see I d-d-don’t have sss-space for all my new work outfits,” You started to undress now, realizing there was no way out of this long night except by sleeping. You kicked off your heels, placing them neatly at the bottom of your closet. You put an oversized t-shirt on and used it to cover your body as you slipped off your mini-dress. 

“Yeah, I see that now. It’s like a shoebox in here,” You shot him an offended look and he smiled stupidly, “It’s cute.”

“You sss-say that word a lot,” You mumbled before finding a pair of fuzzy socks and taking a seat at the very edge of your bed, bending over to slip them on. 

“C’mere,” he patted the spot next to him and you hesitated. 

He wouldn’t, you thought, not while your roommates were on the other side of a paper thin wall. But he would, you remember, Rafe Cameron would do that. He already had the gall to walk into your apartment with his hand on your waist despite being the one who paid your salary. He would do it and you’d let him because you had no spine. 

“Y/N?” You pinched your eyes shut for a brief moment before you inevitable crawled into the spot next to him. You’d never really laid next to him in bed and it wasn’t what you were expecting. Even on his side, laying down, his presence enveloped you. You felt small like you usually did. He easily pressed himself to you, impossibly strong arms pulling your fronts together. 

“You hhh-have to be quiet,” You whispered. 

“I’m not the loud one,” He chuckled, warm breath tickling your shoulder and making you shiver. He placed a kiss there, one arm wrapped around your back and pulling you closer while the other tickled over the skin on your bare thigh, “I could fuck you so slow, so gentle, and I’m sure you’d be screaming.”

“No,” You argued though you weren’t sure why. 

“No? You think you could stay quiet?” A excruciatingly soft and wet kiss was placed on your collarbone. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, “I’m sss-sserious, Rafe.”

“So informal,” He shook his head, the hand that was on your thigh started to peel up your shirt. To your surprise, Rafe ducked inside the fabric of your shirt, beginning to burrow his head into your breast, “My fucking favorite place on your cute, little body.”

He seemed to groan, something animalistic, placing kisses along your skin. His breath tickled your nipples and you tried to pull away. He flips you fully onto your back, pinning you with his weight, his mouth threatening to take one of your nipples into his mouth. You couldn’t take it, “Okay, okay, y-yess,” You rushed out, “I c-couldn’t stay quiet. You’re right.”

You look down to watch him pop his head out from under your shirt, “Yeah?”

“Yes,” You nodded, “I-I admit it. Please.”

“Please stop? Please fuck you quietly?” Rafe teased you, “You’re not adding sir to the end of your sentences so it gets kinda hard to understand–”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” You pleaded with him through your eyes, “Please …fuck me quietly, Sir.”

“That’s better,” He pulled your shirt over your breasts before he completely devoured them. 

The next time Rafe decided to have sex with you was two weeks later, right as he walked into his office. You should’ve known by the outfit he had chosen for you. The white blouse had an air of professionalism, but the plaid, pleated skirt barely reached mid-thigh, making you certain the entire elevator caught a glimpse of your underwear when you dropped your notebook that morning.

It felt like he’d been teasing you up until that point. You'd lost track of how many times he made you orgasm in front of him during those two weeks. He had an insatiable fascination with watching you pleasure yourself, wanting you completely vulnerable, often in compromising positions, with your eyes locked on his the moment it happened. Whether it was on top of his desk, against the office window, or bent over a coffee table, you were starting to grow comfortable with being uncomfortable.

He couldn’t resist touching you, making you grind against him, or rapidly moving his fingers in and out of you until you were shaking. However, he had managed up until that point to not actually fuck you. It was getting to the point you found yourself pouting at him from your desk as you watched him complete his daily meetings. 

You didn’t have a chance to get out your usual spiel about his meetings for the day because his briefcase was already on the ground, and his arms were wrapped around your backside as he carried you over to his desk, “Take off your panties,” He commanded after setting you on his desk. He stepped back, fumbling with his belt and zipper, “Now, sweetheart. C’mon.” He said and you realized you clearly weren’t moving fast enough for him. 

Your panties weren’t even around your knees before he was lifting up your legs and pulling them off the rest of the way. He parted your legs, immediately dipping his fingers into you, “You’re already wet,” It was just an observance. No smile or smirk or evidence that he was at all pleased with the revelation, “Desperate little girl. You been thinking about me, yeah?”

You stared up at his lips, pink and parted and imagined them on yours, his soft stubble tickling the skin of your mouth. Why wasn’t he kissing you? Everything with him was a ritual. You couldn’t get what you wanted until you felt utterly humiliated and vulnerable. He couldn’t get what he wanted until you had tears in your eyes. You nodded, “Yes.”

“Fucking say it,” He barked and you winced. 

“I’ve b-b-been th-thhhinking about you,” You admitted although he already knew it. Your own well being seemed to rely on being obsessed with him. If you wanted any sexual satisfaction, he was the one who brought it. He was the entire reason you had a good income now. He was everything. 

“You haven’t touched yourself though, not without my permission?”

You nodded, “Nnn-not without your permission.”

“Cause you need me,” He finally placed his lips on yours and you nodded against them. 

“I nnn-need you,” You mewled between kisses as he pressed his crotch into yours. The two of you both tilted back towards his desk, “Please, Sir.”

You had consented, despite not being fully prepared. It didn’t feel like the first or second time. The first time had been overwhelming, your orgasms crashing over you like a storm, while the second time had been so gentle that the pleasure left you feeling like you were vibrating with ecstasy. You wanted him, undeniably, but nothing had prepared you for the intensity of him filling you completely. This was what you had desirel, feeling full, but now you were overwhelmed, as though he was consuming every part of you.

With his hands braced on either side of your head, he looked down at you, his gaze intense and focused. He moved inside you with a relentless, unyielding rhythm, driving into you with an insatiable need.

The room faded away around you. You couldn’t feel yourself breathing nor could you hear the sounds leaving your mind. You just stared back, your face a mix of anguish and pleasure, and accepted your fate. You didn’t fight your orgasm this time, your body moved instinctively, squeezing around him, your hips grinding up for more friction. 

When he was close, he pulled out of you. Your energy was already gone, your orgasm having taken almost everything from you, but he moved your body effortlessly. He pulled you off the desk before placing you on your knees in front of you. Your legs folded easily, weakly, “Fuck,” He cursed, pantting, and you watched him take his cock in his own hand. 

You reached out to take ahold of him but he pushed your hand away. His hands moved, determined, rhythmic, “Ask me to cum on your face.”

His breaths were heavy, desperate, and he clung to that control that had slipped away when he was inside you. 

“Will y-you cum on my face, Sir?” 

The question hung in the air, tension thickening, until he was finally gritting his teeth. He broke eye contact only as his orgasm ripped through him. The room filled with his moans and you did your best not overreact to that warm, sticky feeling that was now violating your senses. 

“Good girl, look at you,” He said and you squeezed your eyes tightly as it began to drip onto your eyelid. 

You breathed deeply, the intensity of the moment deciding to peak, and tears started to spill over. You became a crumpled pile of pleasure, shame and exhaustion. It seemed like the only way to release your emotions. Unexpectedly, you didn’t sit their alone. Rafe was the one to wipe your face with a tissue. He cooed, “Hey, you did good, kid. You’re a good girl,” He whispered sweet nothings to you. 

“C-C-Can you hold me?” You asked, voice trembling, so embarrassed that you didn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want to see how he was feeling or know what he was thinking. It was all too much.

Without a word, Rafe lifted you effortlessly into his arms. His strength was both reassuring and overwhelming as he carried you behind his desk, his body warm and solid against yours. He settled into his chair, drawing you onto his lap with a sense of protective intimacy. For the rest of the morning, he worked with you nestled against him, your face buried into his neck. 

Rafe Cameron’s Appalachian cabin was one of the twelve properties he owned personally. You got to it by passing though a quaint and charming town. Despite the fact that he normally spends only three weekends of the entire year there, all the locals know him. 

The four of you; Rafe, you, Eleanor and Topper, made your way down main street which was lined with old-fashioned storefronts. In the middle was the town square which featured an old, courthouse building and a gazebo where you see a few locals gathering. The four of you enjoy a diner meal at the Blue Ridge Breakfast Bar before you walk through a few shops. It almost feels .. normal. You were surprised the three of them were even willing to walk through the antique buildings, let alone find the shops interesting. 

You didn’t know people like them even ate at diners or were interested in antique trinkets that cost less then five dollars. It was surreal. In another life, the three of them were normal people, and maybe you and Rafe could have been a normal couple. 

You often found yourself glancing at Rafe, marveling at the contrast between his usual, impeccably dressed self and the more relaxed look he wore today. Seeing him in jeans and a baseball cap, casually strolling through the town, was almost disorienting. 

It was a similar feeling you got when Rafe suddenly flipped a switch after being cruel to you and decided to comfort you. 

Despite the fact that he was technically on vacation, you were still his personal assistant, and yet he hadn’t asked you about anything related to assisting him since he picked you up that morning from your apartment. 

You wouldn’t say it to him, partially out of fear that he would deny it, but it felt like he wanted you appear like a couple. Topper and Eleanor undoubtedly new the truth so why was he acting like this? You never held hands like them but his hand would find your knee when you sat next to each other and sometimes he wrapped around your shoulder when you were standing close by. 

Sometimes, your body didn’t want to relax around him, and the intimacy brought you anxiety. Soemtimes he was easier to read when he was drunk, or inside of you, or yelling at you. You weren’t familiar with this version of him. But you were stuck with the three of them for the next three nights. 

Surrounded by towering pines and the soft hush of nature, the cabin was more of fortress nestled into the natural beauty of the mountains. You followed Rafe across a gravel path towards a large front porch which was framed by sturdy wooden columns. You stared up at large windows that endorned the front of the house, undoubtedly letting in a large amount of natural light, as you walked through the entrance. 

The house was a complete reflection of his taste and the extent of his success. As Topper and Rafe left for the bedroom to drop off luggage, you and Eleanor made your way to the kitchen with the bags of groceries you’d acquired from the local mini-mart. Surprisingly, this place didn’t come with it’s own personal chef. 

Like with everything else, you followed Eleanor’s lead when it came to cooking that weekend. She encouraged you to get ingredients for a dish you knew you could make on your own and you chose spaghetti despite the idea of feeding billionaire Rafe Cameron your homemade spaghetti making you feel stupid. 

“I’ll show you how to arrange a charcuterie board,” She said as she poured you a glass of red wine, “You’ll be the perfect housewife when I’m done with you, Y/N.”

The afternoon actually ended up being fun. You and Eleanor laughed in the kitchen while Rafe and Topper watched a football game in the living room, nursing cans of beer. The wine relaxed you and soon you were giggling over unevenly cut salami and spilled strawberry jam. The two of you ended up eating half the ingredients meant for the board, much to Eleanor’s amusement.

Eleanor loosened up even more, even getting comfortable enough to tell you a story about Topper, “You know, one time back when we lived in Kildare, he tried to make me pancakes for my birthday. From the box, not even from scratch, and he burnt every one. Literally every single one. The kitchen looked like it had been through a tornado. I don’t know how he even managed that.”

You covered your mouth, shaking your head, “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“He went through the whole box! He had to serve them to me like that. No amount of syrup and whip cream can mask that taste.”

“I didn’t realize we were telling personal stories,” You whipped your head around as you heard Topper’s voice. Your heart raced for a second, worried, but he made his way around the kitchen island and hugged his wife from behind. Rafe was following behind him but made his way over to you. You composed yourself as much as possible. 

“I was telling Y/N about how good of a cook you are,” She joked and he playfully tickled her sides and soon they were laughing together. 

The two male’s casual demeanors seemed to complement the laid-back energy of the afternoon. You watched Rafe’s lips pull into a smirk as he surveyed your work and your empty glass of wine. 

Dinner rolled around a few hours later, a relaxed atmosphere continuing to permeate through the air. You’d set the table in the dining room, the ten-person table sat next to a large window overlooking an expansive lake, and aided Eleanor in preparing her beef stir-fry. 

“It’s really good, Eleanor,” You complimented her once all of you were seated and digging into your food. 

“Thanks,” She grinned, “You’re a good sous chef, Y/N.”

A smile tugged at your lips, “Not better than me though, right, honey?” Topper asked. 

“Of course not, honey,” Eleanor winked at him. 

Small talk ensued and despite the fact that Eleanor warned the two men that business talk would bring down the room, they spent a good ten minutes talking about something called “tax increment financing”. 

Eleanor interrupted after it became too much, “So, Rafe, are you going to do any more renovations on this place?”

“After they finish the pool next summer, no. Did the home theatre, renovated the master bathroom and expanded the garage this summer. It’ll probably be move-in-ready next year.”

“Oh, are you selling it?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Rafe’s gaze flickered away, an unusual reaction for him. He usually had a quip or a witty retort ready. “No, I plan to spend more time away from Charlotte after New Year's. I’ll be living here at least five days a week.”

“Oh,” You nodded though you really hadn’t comprehended his words. You looked back down at your plate, and as you took another bite, his words started to set in. It was an inappropriate time to delve further but your mind started to race. He’d never mentioned that he wouldn’t even be living in Charlotte after the next few months. Shouldn’t he have mentioned this by now? “I-I thought …”

“We can talk about it later, Y/N,” Rafe dismissed you, bringing a piece of meat to his mouth, and looking away. 

He spoke as if you were annoying him now. Eleanor opened her mouth again to change the subject but you interrupted her, “I-I’m sorry … w-will you still need me then? If I’m in Chhhh-Charlotte and you’re here.”

“Did you hear me the first time, Y/N?” Rafe’s jaw set as he dropped his silverware. The clang made you jump but your mind was spinning. It was a simple question, wasn’t it? Was he stringing you a long? Would you be out of a job next year? 

“I-It p-p-p-pertains to me,” You continued, your heart racing as Rafe grimaced, “Can’t y-you just say if I’ll have a job or not?”

“You’ll have a job,” Getting confirmation made your shoulders drop from relief. It was almost worth whatever seed of rage you’d planted within him, “But you’ll relocate with me.”

“What?” You pushed your plate away, leaning back in your chair. 

Topper and Eleanor exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the escalating tension. It felt like you’d already poked the bull, you felt like you had to see it through,  “I’ll need you to move here. Won’t make sense to juggle from two places.”

“Mmm-my life is i-in Chhh-Charlotte. You n-never said this before,” You tried to keep your voice steady, to express your genuine disappointment despite your frustration. 

“It’s not my fault you haven’t caught on, Y/N,” He spoke sharply, “You know how this works. I manage my properties and business. My plans change. You’re a part of that. You’re making it an issue when it’s not. You’re acting like you have a million options.”

“I-I know I don’t–”

You looked at Topper and then Eleanor. Now, the two of them were looking anywhere but the two of you. 

“Then act like it.”

“Rafe–”

“I fucking own you, you don’t even understand that.”

“Rafe!”

“One more word, Y/N, and I swear to God.”

Your lips parted and your voice started to tremble as you felt the sting of his words, “This is so … shitty,” Perhaps it was the distance, the wood table that sat between you that made you feel so bold.

Rafe’s anger erupted, his face reddening as he slammed his hands on the table. “Boo-fucking-hoo, sweetheart! I’ve given you everything, the clothes on your back, keeping the lights on in your crappy apartment, and you’re still ungrateful?”

Your frustration reached its breaking point. “Fuck you, Rafe!” you shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. “I don’t want it anymore!”

You pushed your chair back abruptly, no goal in mind for where you’d stomp off to but you felt your blood boiling. Was his entire goal to completely ruin your life? 

“Y/N!” He called after you and you turned your head to realize how close he was on your tail.  Adrenaline surged through you, the thought that you might never have control of your life left you close to completely spiraling. Determined to get away, you picked up your pace, practically running through the million-dollar home, over shiny waxed floors, moonlight shining through tall windows. 

He barked your name again and before you could reach the front door, his hand shot out and seized your upper arm. You screamed, his fingers squeezing your flesh so hard that you thought your skin might break. Swinging your body around, your feet lifted off the ground as he through you over his strong shoulder. 

Kicking, struggling, screaming and crying, Rafe carried you up a grand staircase, “Please,” You were begging but adrenaline was pumping though him too, making him moved with his own determination. He kicked open door and your head whipped as he stepped inside, slamming it closed. You couldn’t focus on any detail in the room but as he through you onto an expansive bed, you assumed it was the master bedroom. For a moment, you played a game of cat and mouse. You gained your balance, and tried to crawl off the bed. Every direction you went, he moved faster, until you were sitting on your knees in the middle of the bed. 

“You need to understand your place,” You watched as he started to loose the brown belt looped into his blue jeans. 

You shook your head frantically, “I don’t w-want this.”

“It will be easier if you just apologize,” Rafe let out a breath of air, a weary sigh, his face frustrated, “I promise, I’ll make it easier for you.”

“If I-I …w-will you use the belt?”

“I have to use the belt, sweetheart, you’ve been so bad. Tell you what, if you apologize, I won’t tie you down to the bed. How’s that sound?” 

The offer was as chilling as it was manipulative. You shook your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to apologize.

The process of what followed was both brutal and dehumanizing. You were left feeling exposed and vulnerable, your body laid bare and handcuffed to one of the posts of the canopy bed. The sting of the belt on your skin was relentless, each strike leaving a deep, aching mark that quickly turned to a disturbing shade of purple. Your apologies came out in frantic, broken pleas, but they seemed to come too late.

You even managed to ask him to hold you but he didn’t grant your wish that time. He left you to go back downstairs. You slid down to your knees when you couldn’t stand any longer, falling asleep in that position, head resting at a strange angle against the mattress. 

When you next awoke, the light of morning was gently filtering through the curtains. Rafe’s arms were wrapped around you, his steady breathing and soft snoring a stark contrast to the harshness of the previous night. His nose pressed into your hair, a reminder of his physical presence.

You cried softly against him, the tears slipping down your cheeks as you clung to him. The sounds were muffled against his chest as you hugged him tighter.

hope you enjoyed!!

[mooooonnnzz]

I saw your earlier post on Platonic fics and Im a sucker for them so here u go : father figure stanford headcannons maybe takes place after he comes back from the portal, reader is an adventurous spirit that works at the shack and maybe secretly helped stan get his brother back? Idk im just throwing things here lol

You Know I Love You Still

Stanford x daughter!reader

💗 stanford dad hc!!

💗 i literally saw the request it and started writing and got a lil carried away 😭 its like half story half hc? if that makes sense

💗 requests r so open rn! i def dont have any fav requests… (anything platonic or familial will be the first ones i write i LOVE those types of requests)

💗 the age of the reader is young like 16/17? ik that lowkey contradicts with the time line but wtv STANFORD DAD HC!!

💗 it’s a little bit of everything? like it’s not only just reader and stanford, the twins r also included in some scenarios and also stan

💗 a big happy family 😭

💗 fem reader gulp i completely didnt realize until i was done that i used she/her when referring to the reader

💗 next fic will use gender neutral pronouns I SWUEAR!!

💗2k words

💗 i apologize for rhe misspell and mistakes i didnt catch in advance

Working together with your Uncle Stan to build the portal to bring your dad back to the right dimension was tiresome. Nights were sleepless and many of them were spent in the underground lab, where you and Stan did everything possible to assemble the portal. Trying to keep such a secret away from the twins and Soos was unexpectedly hard. The knowledge of hiding someone so vital to you and to your Uncle Stan was weighing down on you and him. Then came the day where his awaited arrival was promised. You could barely sleep that night. You thought of so many different possibilities and scenarios of how you would greet him. Would he remember you? Did he ever miss you? Does he even love you?!

The next day came in like a tornado and before you knew it, you were protectively standing in front of the button; trying your absolute hardest to prevent the twins from pressing the button.

“Why do you guys want to stop the portal so badly!” You yelled over the loud swirling wind that emitted from the portal. “Because it’s dangerous!” Dipper retorted, using his arm to shield him from the debris whizzing past him. “G-Grunkle Stan isn’t who he says he is!” Dipper said, stepping closer to you.

“Whatever you guys saw or heard isn’t what you think it is! Please, you need to believe me.” You begged, your eyes brimming with tears. You’ve worked so hard to get this portal up and running and you weren’t going to let Dipper or anyone stop you from being able to see your dad.

Soos came up from behind and wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry, dude.” He picked you up and took you away from the button. “Soos, no!” You thrashed around his hold. You pound your fists against his arms, hoping it’ll loosen his grip on you but nothing you did worked. No matter how much you begged and fought against him, he didn’t budge. He just held you closer to him, muttering ‘I’m Sorry’ under his breath.

“This all stops now!” Dipper raised his hand, palm flattened out, ready to push the button when Stan appeared at the doorway. “Don’t touch that button!”

He’s hunched forward, hand leaning on the frame of the doorway as he pants. Relief washes over you upon seeing Stan. Silence fills the room for a minute and all you can hear is your heart hammer against your ribcage. Stan walks towards Dipper, beckoning him to not press the button.

“If you just let me explain—“ He’s cut off by his watch repeatedly beeping. Suddenly the ground begins to shake.

The portal powers up and the circle enlarges. The electricity spazzes and travels throughout the room, creating streaks of electrical power. Your feet lift off the ground and soon everyone’s floating up in the air. The wind is fierce and it’s whipping through every direction, pushing you towards the wall.

Dipper yells at Mable to turn off the portal before it causes anymore damage. She tugs herself closer to the button using a stray cable and while she wraps herself around the neck holding up the button, Stan is begging her to listen to him and to not press the button. He’s soon tackled by Soos who pushes him away from Mable. They all fight with each other and you’re watching with a bated breath.

The portal pulses with power, sending you back first into the wall. Stan and Dipper bicker back and forth and Mable is torn with the decision of either believing her brother or her Grunkle. She lowers her hand, eyes closed and you're almost convinced she’s going to press the button when she lets go of the button. She floats up with her arms raised. “Grunkle Stan, I believe you.” She says.

“Mable, are you crazy?! We’re all gonna—!”

The world flashes white and you're immediately knocked out. You awaken to yourself plummeting face first down to the floor. You groan, pushing yourself up with one hand and the other wiping off the dust on your face. Looking around you can see your family scattered around the room, each of them slowly waking up from whatever happened and stumbling back to their feet.

Your head quickly whips towards the portal and your heart lurches into your throat upon seeing a figure step out of it. He stands still, staring straight ahead as he takes off his hood and goggles. And what hid behind them was your father.

After the initial shock of meeting the one behind the three books and the reveal of him being related to Stan was pushed aside, you presented yourself with the help of Stan. “H-Hi, Dad.” You awkwardly greet yourself.

His eyes stop on you and he freezes, eyes blown wide and mouth slightly ajar. He takes a minute to process the absurdity of the situation before he’s snapping back to consciousness. He blinks once, his mouth stuttering as he finds the right words to say. He then blinks again, stepping a cautious step towards you. Your name softly spills out of his mouth and your heart soars hearing your Dad finally utter your name again.

You take a step forward and then another and another until you’re face to face with him. Being closer to him allowed you to see how much he has aged since the last time you saw him. “Dad…” You whisper, throwing yourself into him.

A light wheeze escapes his mouth from the sudden impact of your body crashing on him. Once he recovers, his arms are quickly wrapped around you, hugging you with so much warmth and love you almost sobbed right then and there.

He snuggled his face against your hair, breathing in your familiar scent he missed so dearly while he was away. “We have so much to catch up on.” You say so quietly that he almost lost your words if it wasn’t for you being directly near his ear. He hums in affirmation, cherishing the long awaited reunion with his daughter.

“I feel like this is another part where one of us faints again.” Mable says in utter disbelief at the scene that unfolded in front of her. “Ohoh!” Soos laughed out. “I’m so on it, dudes.” As if on command his eyes roll to the back of his head and he faints flat on his back.

HEADCANON TIME!!

• You weren’t really expecting to talk to him much due to Stan wanting to talk to his brother, but after their fight, he came looking for you. When he found you, you were sitting on the couch that was outside on the porch. You were reading a book you recently purchased from the bookstore. Nose deep in your book, you failed to realize Ford standing beside you. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his trench coat. Quietly he asked, “Is there room for one more?”

• The night was spent with the two of you getting to know each other. From your favorite color to your favorite show, what food you like to eat and so on. Ford wanted to fully understand and know you as a person. He wanted to make up all the years he lost with you.

• The next day, you awoke to the smell of your favorite breakfast food being cooked. With haste you pushed your blanket off of you and slipped on your slippers and sped off into the kitchen where Ford was buttering the pan. He looked over to you and flashed you a smile. “I made you your favorite.” He said, motioning over to the table where he laid out your breakfast. “You didn’t have to do this.” You scratched your cheek, a small laugh of surprise leaving you. “I’m just doing what I always dreamed of doing.” He shoveled out his breakfast onto his plate using a spatula. “How’s the food, kiddo?” He asks, placing the pan and spatula on the dirty side of the sink. “Actually pretty good for someone who hasn't been in this dimension for over a decade!” You jest, taking another delicious bite from your breakfast. Ford jokingly rolled his eyes, ruffling your hair as he walked past you and sat down on his chair. “Already poking fun at me.” He said, shaking his head.

• Stanford knew he had to focus on his projects, he had so many things he left unfinished that he'd been dying to get his hands on the minute he stepped foot into his dimension. But he couldn’t seem to pull himself away from you. He loved seeing you interact with the twins, he loved watching how pieces of his personality shone through you. Like the way you’re so meticulous with where you put things, or how you were forever curious about the things around you, and even the abundance of questions you’d mutter to yourself as you discovered something new. That’s all of him right there, in front of him and he couldn’t grasp such a thought that you were his!

• He finds himself gazing upon baby photos Stan took of you when you were younger. Even if he’s angry at his twin currently, he’s forever grateful that he documented such beautiful memories in a scrapbook. “Y’know, I used to tell stories about you to her.” A shriek leaves Ford. He jumps forward, the scrapbook tumbling down his lap and onto the floor. “You idiot! Be careful.” Stan sneered, kneeling down to the floor to pick up the scrapbook. “Stanley!” Ford leans his head back, trying to regain his composure. “You scared me!” He says. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” Stan waves him off, grabbing the scrapbook and tucking it in between his arms. They stand in awkward silence, eyes darting around the place uneasily. “Did…” Ford starts, shattering the silence. “Did she like the stories you told of me?” Stan smiles fondly, nodding his head. “She loved them. She thought you were some stupid amazing superhero, no matter what I told her.” Ford furrowed his brows. “Wait, what do you mean by no matter what you told her?” Stan nervously laughed. “Hey, why don’t you keep looking at these photos! Wait here, look at this one. Haha! She’s trying to eat her toes, isn’t that adorable?” “Stanley.”

• Outings between the two of you were very common. He loved being tugged around the town of Gravity Falls by you as you pointed at various different shops and locations. You told him the reasons why you hated them or loved them, and some were tied to stories that happened within the summer. He seriously questioned how you and the twins survived so many times where you were just so close to death. The mall was a place where you and him resided the most. With the money he took from Stan, he paid for almost everything you wanted. Entering the shack with so many bags was a shock to everyone. “Woah! Did you buy the whole mall?” Mable jokes, grabbing one of the bags to help you with the load. “Basically,” you laughed, instructing Mable to rally Soos and Dipper to have a little haul of what you bought. Stan watched with a raised brow as you stumbled into the living room with Mable following closely behind. “Where did you get all the money to buy her all of that?” Stan asks. “Just stole some money from some hobo.” Ford said, walking into the living room to join in on the haul. Stan didn’t understand what he said and opened the cash register. When he saw all the money he had stored the day before gone, it all clicked.

• Adventures out in the woods is a must. Gathering the twins and your dad, all four of you venture out into the woods in hopes to find something new. “Why couldn’t Grunkle Stan tag along with us?” Mable asked as she kneeled down to pluck a flower from the dirt. “Because he’s being a wet towel.” Dipper muttered, scribbling down a rough drawing of the flower Mable was picking in a book you bought him. “So what kind of anomalies you three stumbled upon?” Ford questioned. You and the twins began to dump everything onto him, from when you started seeing them to when Dipper and Mable came. Ford couldn’t truly focus on what they were saying, mostly because it was a jumbled excited mess of words, but partially because he was astonished with the trio in front of him. They went through so much and yet they’re still so headstrong. He could definitely see a little bit of him in Dipper and Mable.

• Stan would find you and Ford fallen asleep on the couch or in his lab, all huddled up together and completely knocked out. Snores filled the room and he found it amusing that you and him both snores the same. Videos and photos were definitely taken by Mable.

• Ford would tell stories of his adventures in another dimension to you. Stemming from how he started from the ground up to him getting banned from many other dimensions for stealing parts. “You’re not so different from Uncle Stan,” You laughed, shaking your head. “What! It was only a few…hundred dimensions.”

• There’s times where you’d wake up in a cold sweat, afraid that your Dad finally coming back was just a painful dream your brain played on you. But when you would get ready to find him, you’d step on his stomach or back. “Ough!” Ford groaned out in pain. Being suddenly woken up from his sleep, he sat up, looking around confused. “What are you doing sleeping on the floor?” You sat back down on your bed, pulling the blankets over you. “Is there a problem with me sleeping on the floor?” Ford asks, looking at you with squinted eyes. “No, no.” You laid back down on your bed. “Go back to sleep. I’m better now,” You say, somewhat amused with Ford sleeping on the floor beside your bed. “Goodnight, I love you.” You brush your fingers playfully across his face to annoy him. He shoves your fingers away from his face, huffing out. “Goodnight,” He shuffles to his side, looking up to you with a small smile. “I love you more, kiddo.”

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 6: Lighter x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 6664

Warnings: Afab!reader, friends with benefits, casual sex, body worship, mirror sex, blowjob, deep throating, brief cunnilingus, piv

A/N: This guy is so cool, I really hope this doesn't end up being too ooc since he was only just introduced and we still don't know a whole lot about him. 🫣

⭐

Nights out in the desert lean towards chilly but with a raging bonfire going you almost don’t even notice it. Not until you step away from the hotly licking flames anyway, and then you find yourself burrowing deeper into your coat for insulation from the wind. If the need to find some trouble to get into hadn’t been brewing like a storm in the back of your mind you would have been perfectly content to stay right where you were for the rest of the evening until it came time for bed, but that persistent tug has you scanning through the gathered crowd for an all too familiar face. 

You spot Lucy and Caesar easily enough, though as usual they were a little hard to miss when they couldn’t seem to get along for more than five minutes at a time. Sometimes you wondered how they managed to work together at all given the obvious tensions between them but it wasn’t really your place to pry. The Sons of Calydon were good to the people who made Blazewood their home and you liked them better than some of the other biker gangs at least. Eccentricities aside, they were just fine in your book. 

Neither of them were the one you sought though, so you keep making your way around the perimeter of the crowded area. It wasn’t often that everyone gathered for a celebration like this but the Sons, true to nature, tended to liven up the place whenever they came through. One of the many services you probably owed them thanks for. 

And then you finally spot him, just when you were starting to wonder if he’d turned in for an early night. Slouched in a banged up lawn chair someone had dug out from who only knows where with a stout glass full of something dark braced on the bend of his knee. Cool and casual. Yep, that was Lighter down to the letter. 

Stuffing your hands into the pockets of your jacket, you shuffle over to come up alongside where he’s sat in a loosely formed circle with a handful of other men, no doubt shooting the shit with each other which you thoroughly interrupt with your appearance. That he’d retreated to this reclusive side of the field where the girls were less likely to impede on his very important masculine brooding with like minded individuals does not escape your notice but too bad for him. 

You were not someone Lighter could easily ignore just as you had a hard time ignoring him whenever he happened to be around, and you allow yourself a small smile when he tips his head back to look up at you through the tinted lenses of his sunglasses. Still wearing them even now, when it was completely dark out and he probably couldn’t make out much of anything through them as a result. What a dork. 

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” He volleys right back, not missing a beat as he bobs his chin at you in relaxed greeting. “Good to see you. I was wondering if you’d stop by to pay me a visit tonight.” 

“Putting aside the fact that I always come see you, don’t you think it might be nice if you were the one who came to me sometimes? I’ve been standing over by the fire for a while now.”

A vaguely mischievous smile pulls at his mouth. “What, you want me to start following you around like a lovesick pup now? I seem to recall you giving me completely different instructions before.” 

“All I’m saying is some initiative might win you a few favors in the long run.” You shoot back, pinning Lighter with a playfully rueful look while you try very hard not to laugh. 

“Well, a man could always use more favors. What sort of initiative were you hoping for?” 

“Please, why would I tell you and ruin the fun of watching you try to figure it out on your own? And besides, it wouldn’t count for much if I just gave you all the answers.” 

This back and forth game with him already has you feeling eager and excited while you stand there, idly rocking on your toes in anticipation of his next move. But then he noises a brief sound of rumbling consideration before reaching out to suddenly snag your forearm with a hand gloved in leather. 

It happens much too quick for you to pull away or react beyond the giggling squeak you let out when he yanks you down across his lap. The two of you had known each other for a very long time now and these sorts of physical exchanges were common enough that no one really questioned it any more, though you’re still keenly aware of the other men that are gathered around politely turning their attention elsewhere. Breaking off into their own smaller groups, starting up their own snippets of conversation. It’s like they didn’t even see the two of you sitting there anymore, which comes as a relief while you work to get settled into place atop his legs, using a hand curved over his broad shoulder for stability. 

You and Lighter weren’t actually together, nor were you an item in any sense of the word, but you also weren’t just friends either. Everyone knew that so there wasn’t much point in hiding it. A lot of good it would have done you anyway when the communities scattered across the Outer Ring were so small and tight knit that keeping secrets often felt like an impossibility. 

So you look down into his face head on, openly grinning now as he minutely shifts underneath you to get comfortable again. He’s so firm and sturdy that it takes a great deal of self control on your part not to start kissing him right then and there. The two of you might not try all that hard to hide whatever was going on here but you still had some polite sensibilities left to your name. 

“Alright, sugar,” He intones, juggling his drink over to the opposite hand so he can casually set his arm across your lap while the other loosely curls around your hip. Just to make sure you don’t accidentally fall off, you’re sure. “I’m listening. Tell me what it is you want.”

“I’d think that should be obvious by now.” 

“You’re insatiable.”

“Only when it comes to you.” Lightly teasing a finger over one of the metal spikes on his biker jacket, you give him a pointed little smile. “Maybe if I saw you more often than every few weeks I’d get bored of it but you know how to keep a girl coming back for more, don’t you? Never give her enough to get complacent, just enough to become addicted.” 

“Hey now. That makes me sound like some kind of scheming playboy. I’m sure you know I’d give it to you every day if I could.” 

Your pussy distantly clenches at the thought, and you sit up a little straighter to subtly press down on his thigh. It was so unfair how easily he could drive you wild. Sometimes you didn’t think the playboy label was all that inaccurate, but then he’d say or do something so goofy that it completely shattered that impression of him in your mind. Despite how it looked he wasn’t actually some disloyal womanizer incapable of commitment, just someone with a lot of baggage and a long past. That’s all. 

But really, who couldn’t say the same in the Outer Ring? 

“That’s sweet but you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, Lighter.” 

“It’s not for a lack of wanting, trust me.” He assures you, giving the meat of your hip a brief squeeze. “The Sons have just been busy lately. You know that. But once we win the Tour de Inferno - -“ 

“You’ll have better routes and less busy work. I’ve heard it before.” Sighing softly, you lift your hand from his shoulder to reach up and cradle a mostly smooth cheek in your palm. You could just feel the faintest hint of stubble starting to grow back after his morning shave much earlier in the day but the scratch of it registers as pleasant rather than disagreeable. “It doesn’t really matter in the end I guess. No strings attached, that was what we agreed on. I just worry about you sometimes. Even if it’s not for me, at least try to swing by more often so I can feed you. I’ll even make extra for the girls.” 

“I’m sure they’ll like that.” He murmurs, peering at you now over the top of his shades with an unwavering, plainly heated look that makes a shudder work down your spine. 

You stare into his face for another moment longer until the magnetic pull of his mouth becomes too much for you to resist, and you lean down to claim those sinfully inviting lips for yourself. Lighter readily returns the favor with a steady push and pull that only coaxes you further into your vibrating need for him, unable to reject it even if you’d wanted to. 

And you most certainly don’t want to. 

Realizing that you really can’t wait any longer to have him, you pull back just enough to speak against his mouth. “Take me home, Lighter. I want to be alone with you.” 

“If that’s what you want.” He husks, his tone dropped to a secretive but no less simmering drawl now. “Your wish is but my command, princess.”  

Bracing to stand, you ready to hop up from his lap but he manages to catch you off guard when he locks his arm around your middle and carefully eases himself out of the chair so he can rise to his feet with a rumbling groan for effect. You weren’t exactly a delicate waif but he’d picked you up far too many times for you to be surprised by his strength, and your pulse just quickens in excitement while you dangle a foot or so off the ground from his hold. 

Pausing there, Lighter lifts his glass to his mouth and tips his head back to down the whole thing in a quick gulp. You watch him do it with attentive fascination, admiring the defined line of his jaw and the thick bob of his Adam’s apple, but then he’s gently sliding you down to stand on your own and you take a reluctant step back from him. Everyone who’d come out for the bonfire didn’t need to see him carrying you off into the night like a caveman so you couldn’t argue the logic in letting you walk by yourself. But that doesn’t stop you from missing the warmth of his body pressed up against you, or the heady scent of him drowning out your sense of smell. 

Soon enough that would be rectified though, and together the two of you start to make your way back towards the gas station in companionable silence. 

It’s a quiet walk save the drone of conversation and the occasional shouts behind you, but those noises gradually fade the further you get from the gathering. Most of the locals had gone out into the nearby barren field to join the Sons of Calydon in celebrating their return trip from the transport they’d just completed, so the tiny outpost is perfectly still and peaceful when you reach it. 

Even calling it a town would have been quite the stretch when the outcrop of buildings and trailers, and decrepit mobile homes that spring up around the gas station in the center of it had only come into being out of necessity. Blazewood was at best an encampment of refugees but there were a lot of places like that left behind after the Hollow Disaster so it doesn’t look half as depressing as it probably actually is. It’s the only thing you’d ever really known with any familiarity though, and to you it’s home. 

Lighter was too much a roving nomad to have anything similar, save perhaps his band of fellow bikers, but there’s a small part of you that hopes he thinks of your tiny little motel as a kind of home too. He’d certainly been here more than enough times to be intimately familiar with the place and you by extension. 

Treading the exact same steps the two of you had walked many times before, you make your way into the back of what was at one time a supplies building. Your father had worked tirelessly to repurpose it into a place for lodgings, so that the traveling biker gangs would have somewhere to rest at night during their long hauls, and you’d naturally inherited the place from him when you were old enough. Although it had put a bit of a damper on any aspirations you’d once harbored about joining one of the gangs yourself, you’re admittedly glad for it now since it gave you some place to safely retreat to with Lighter at the end of the day. 

You certainly weren’t going to take him to your own room and fuck him on your own bed. That was one of the rules you’d established at the start of all this, more than just a few years ago now. At first it had been solely for practical reasons. Didn’t want him getting the wrong idea or, even worse, give yourself a chance to be fooled into thinking that this was somehow more meaningful than it actually was. He didn’t need to have access to your personal space like that. 

But by now it had become something of a safe neutral zone where both of you could simply let go of whatever roles and responsibilities, obligations and preconceptions you carried with you. Everyone had baggage in the Outer Rings, and neither you or Lighter were any different in that regard. 

But the good news was that both of your tastes aligned in the most delightful of ways, and as you step into your favorite room your eyes come up to look into the reflective surface of the floor length mirror hung on the wall. Between the bed and the claustrophobicbly small toilet closet there wasn’t much else in the tight space to look at. One of the bikers from the previous generation had gifted it to your father after finding it by chance in an old and abandoned warehouse. Evidently it was the only mirror that had still been in one piece after sitting forgotten for so long, and he’d carefully hauled it all the way back to Blazewood in his trailer. 

You suspected your father had at one time toyed with the notion of using this place as a brothel of sorts to make a little extra money on the side, but after you were born shortly thereafter it seemed he no longer had the heart to follow through on it. That was fine though, because this room and its mirror had still seen more than its fair share of action thanks to you and Lighter. 

The door clicks shut behind you with a sense of finality as you tread across the rough carpet and you eagerly turn to him, just in time for his hands to come up and cradle your cheeks. Firmly tilting your face up at him, he bends down to kiss you again but this time it’s not nearly as polite as it was when you’d had an audience watching. 

His mouth is hungry against yours now, matching your own need to feel him against you, on top of you, inside of you. Groaning softly, you rock forward onto the tips of your toes to better accommodate the height difference and reach up to thread your fingers through his shaggy hair. It’s soft but dry against your skin from all the wind and sand grit that naturally came with riding a motorcycle in the desert, yet you still relish the feel of it against you.

Giving it a slow tug, you tip your head to deepen the exchange and allow his tongue entry to your mouth when it prods at your lips. All at once the taste of him overwhelms your olfactory system in a potent rush made all the more intoxicating by the strong notes of whiskey you can clearly pick up on your tastebuds. You noise a quiet sound of ratcheting pleasure against his mouth while his hands descend upon your body to take greedy, squeezing grabs at whatever part of you he can reach. 

Lighter quickly loses patience for all the clothes standing between the two of you though, and he’s soon tugging at your coat to get it unzipped and tossed aside. You do the same with his leather jacket, fumbling to get it shoved back over his shoulders which he accommodates by helpfully stretching his arms down to let it fall to the floor. Then he’s right back to groping at you through your jeans, giving your ass a tight pinch before redirecting them around to your hips so he can steer you backwards. 

Still kissing his mouth with wild abandon, you let him guide you back to stand almost directly in front of the mirror where you finally manage to pry yourself from him only enough to get his t-shirt pulled up over his head. It leaves him standing there naked from the waist up, his already unruly hair more mussed than it was before, and you quickly bend your head close to flick your tongue over a pert nipple. 

Sighing a low rumble of appreciation, Lighter lifts one of his hands to briefly cradle the back of your head while the other reaches down to tug his belt loose. You know what’s coming and you just purr into his skin as you kiss over the planes of his chest to feel the faint tickle of sparse hair against your lips. Giving his bare sides an encouraging squeeze when the sound of his buckle rattling makes your cunt tighten in anticipation, you latch onto the opposite bud to offer it a taunting love bite. 

But by that time he’s got his thick jeans undone and the hand in your hair closes into a fist, using his hold on you to pull you up with a faltering sound of delight. The tug on your scalp is just sharp enough to make you really want it, stumbling a single, uncertain step before he forces you down onto your knees. You’re so hot with want and fast pumping adrenaline that you don’t even think to fight it as he directs your face to the front of his pants where he somewhat meanly grinds the stiff bulge inside across your mouth. 

Whining a needy little sound in the back of your throat, you quickly reach up to pull his pants down so you can shove your face into his underwear full on. You immediately take a deep, savory inhale to taste the distinct smell of him on the back of your tongue, feeling your slit leak sticky gossamer into your panties while you do it. Gods, he smelled heavenly. 

“Damn,” He issues a barely there groan in response, nudging his hips forward to press his cock tighter against your nose while he distractedly lifts his hands up to pull his gloves off one by one. “You’re gonna’ be the death of me at this rate, sugar. Maybe it’s for the best I can’t come see you more often. I don’t think there’d be anything left of me.” 

That brings a smile to your face as you roll your eyes upward to pin him with a sly look. He probably wasn’t wrong about that. It hadn’t taken you long to realize that most men struggled to keep pace with you but for his part Lighter certainly made the effort whenever he could. You’d likely have him completely drained within a week. 

It’s clear the powerful champion of Calydon isn’t intimidated though, and he gives his sunglasses a quick adjustment where they’d started to inch down — insisting they stay on even now, the goof — before shuffling back half a step. 

You almost catch yourself mewling a quiet sound of disappointment but then he’s bending low to hook his fingers in the hem of your top and pull it up. An impressively well practiced motion of his hand soon has your bra falling loose around your shoulders before it quickly joins everything else on the floor in a rumpled heap of all your discarded clothes. 

An intense tremble works through your body at the sensation of your bare tits cutting through the air, already stiff and seeking attention. Still bending at the waist, Lighter takes a moment to briefly cup your breasts in his calloused palms and lift them, encouraging you to arch your back to better present your chest. He hunches even closer then and gives each nipple a savory kiss to tease the sensitive flesh, eliciting another groan of pleasure from you when he moves to straighten up again. 

One of his hands is immediately back in your hair and he roughly pulls you in against him as he closes the distance, rubbing your face against his cock once again. Unable to go another moment without him in your mouth, you dig your fingers into his dark boxer briefs so you can yank them down to pool in his jeans where they were still tucked into his boots. 

The hard length of him promptly springs up into the scant space between you and just brushes the kiss swollen pucker of your mouth to leave behind a faintly sticky trail. Bracing one hand on a powerfully lean thigh, you use the other to take hold of him in a tight grip and give it a few perfunctory tugs to ease the foreskin back. You can clearly see the flushed glans glinting in the overhead light with a sheen of sticky arousal which you coquettishly lick up to get your first taste of him for the evening. 

Groaning quietly in appreciation, Lighter settles into a wide legged stances with his feet braced far apart while the hand on your head firmly guides you forward to take him in. And you do so with great enthusiasm, sliding your mouth down to about the halfway point of his shaft where the head of him starts to tickle at your throat. 

From the corner of your eye you can just make out what’s happening in the reflection of the mirror, the tall tell bob of your head while you work him over with your tongue to build up more saliva and the very noticeable way your tits shift with the motion. It makes you feel ten times hotter, squirming there on the floor at his feet while you watch yourself suck him off. As far as visuals go it was incredibly satisfying to observe in real time, which was exactly why both of you loved this room so much. You’d had to use a different one on a few occasions, when he’d shown up unexpectedly and this room was already occupied by someone else, but it was never the same. Nothing quite compared to the front row seat you had here, getting to watch him fuck you and go down on you, to see yourself spread out on his thick cock and pushed straight to the limit of your physical abilities. 

They made video recording devices in the city, or so you’d heard, and you had half a mind to try it out sometime with him just to get a different perspective. But such technology didn’t last long all the way out here when the ether corruption was so high that most anything that wasn’t analogue didn’t survive for even a whole month. The mirror had served you well up until now though, and you savoringly pull back as you turn your head to watch the shuddering string of spittle stretch between his stiff cock and your mouth before breaking apart. 

Looking into your own reflection, you’re struck by how very needy you look in that moment with eyes blown wide under the heavy droop of your lashes and flushed, kiss swollen lips coated in a sheen of saliva. Lighter knows you a little too well though, and he rumbles a masculine sound when he shifts the position of his hand to better grip your hair so he can turn your face up and around to make you look at him instead. 

“Getting distracted there, sugar?”

Feeling punchdrunk on something stronger than any drink you’d had at the bonfire, you blithely nod your head in agreement. He hadn’t really needed to ask and the way he pins you with a barely there smirk assures you he’d already known the answer. But that was how the two of you played this game no matter how overly familiar you got with each other's bodies, and yet it never seemed to truly get old. 

Neither does the way he expertly uses the fistful of hair he’s got in his hold to force your mouth back down, rudely shoving his cock past lips and teeth, and a squirming tongue so he can prod at the back of your throat. The glide of satiny flesh is smooth and nearly seamless when he sedately thrusts his hips back and forth, back and then forth again, thanks in no small part to the excess of spit forming along your palate. And you just keep drooling all the more excessively the longer he does it, coaxing your salivary glands to work overtime for him until you can feel it bubbling out to dribble down your chin.

Only then does Lighter at last shove himself forward in tortuous slow motion to slide down your gullet one sinful inch at a time. You feel the customary jump in your pulse at suddenly finding your airway blocked and the alarm of pressure pushing in on your throat but force yourself to relax into it. The eventual tickle of coarse pubic hair brushing your nose lets you know when you’ve taken it all and you gurgle a wet sound of pleasure around his length when he makes a point of grinding your face down, holding you there for a prolonged beat. 

Then he’s pulling you back, using your hair to smoothly guide your neck where he wants it to go and dislodge himself from your throat in the process. A fresh wave of copious, sticky spit comes out with him, leaving you kneeling there gasping for air as thick wads of saliva roll down your face. You blearily glance up through the reflexive moisture in your eyes while he gives you a moment to catch your breath only to suck in a rattling gasp when you see how very wrecked you look in the mirror. But he’s not quite through with your mouth just yet, and he repeats the process a handful of times more until you’re dizzily swaying at his feet from the head rush. 

You’re so delirious with it, in fact, that by the time he bends down to get on your level again you almost don’t even notice how close he suddenly is. Not until Lighter takes your wet face between his hands and angles your attention up at him. Reeling and hungry to have his mouth on yours, you eagerly rock forward to catch his lips, but he keeps you firmly in place while he presumably looks over your expression. 

It was sometimes hard to tell through those damned sunglasses. 

“Still doing good, princess?” 

“Y - yeeah …” You groan, forcing your neck to work on an unsteady bob. 

“Good.” Swooping in too quick for you to react, he presses a hard, firm kiss to your temple and then pulls away so he can carefully unwind his fingers from your hair. 

Even this late in the game you still know what he’s about to do because the two of you have done this about a hundred different times now. Same song, different dance — and yet that doesn’t stop the little squeak of excitement you give when he grabs under your arms to lift you up off the floor. Without his jacket in the way you can see all the tension running through his muscles, scarred skin bulging under the strain of your weight, but he doesn’t even falter. He’s as steady as solid iron, and just as strong too. 

Smoothly turning on his heel, Lighter tosses you onto the bed where you bounce once, twice, then his hands are on your hips to yank you back closer to the edge. Panting and breathless, you glance up at him while he stands between your legs, heavy hands working to get your jeans unfastened. His shades have slid forward on the bridge of his nose at some point in all that messing around, and he now sends you a steely look from over the top of them. 

“What did I say?” He murmurs, the fond note in his voice doing little to soften the masculine rumble behind the words. “Insatiable.” 

“Not my fault.” You purr back, grinning. “Maybe you should try being less amazing in the sheets.” 

Sending you a rueful look, Lighter grabs the top of your open pants and yanks them down your legs, knocking your shoes off in process with a dull thump on the floor. Your panties are quick to go next and, momentarily left to your own devices while he kicks off his own boots and jeans, you roll over onto your stomach so you can jut your ass up in the air. Giving it a playful, taunting wiggle, you glance back at him over your shoulder with a sly smile. 

Alright, so he wasn’t wrong. You were insatiable, but could anyone really blame you? 

Cooly watching the display from under his tousled hair, he shoots you a quick look of warning while he leans down to get his underwear pulled off. The weighty bob of his cock between his legs makes you pussy clench and you bite down on your lip as you invitingly arch your back for him. 

“Careful, sugar. You’re looking for trouble tonight.” 

“Mmm, then why don’t you come punish me?” 

He scoffs a hushed laugh at the taunt, casually stepping into the space between your dangling feet again. Both of his hands come down on your ass at the same time, the deafening crack doing more to startle a sound of surprise out of you than the starburst of pain that comes with it, but it’s quickly followed by an appreciative groan when he squeezes the cheeks pinchingly tight and spreads them open. 

You feel him lean close then and you screw your eyes shut, seething a sensitive whine through your teeth when he runs his tongue from one end of your slit straight down to the other, getting a good taste of your arousal along the way. He takes a moment to just leisurely eat you out from the back like he had all night to wind you up tighter and tighter, the firm nudge of him against your clit making your thighs judder. It doesn’t last long enough to send you over the edge though, just encouraging you a little closer to the edge of oblivion before he straightens up behind you again. 

Stretching, Lighter reaches around you then to snag one of the pillows from the headboard which he tosses down next to your head before moving to sit next to you. At his hushed coaxing, you stiffly sit up and let him pull you over into his lap where you eagerly lean into him for a kiss, soft tits pushing into the firm planes of his chest. 

He indulges you only briefly though, letting you get a good taste of yourself on his tongue before pulling back enough to speak. “Turn around for me, princess. Gonna’ make you watch while I split that little cunt in half. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

Just hearing him talk like that makes every single nerve ending in your body tense up to the point of real discomfort and you shudder fiercely even as you work to get spun around, tossing your leg over his hip so you can get settled across Lighter’s stomach. But even knowing good and well how strong he is wasn’t quite enough to fully ease your concerns about sitting on top of him. It makes you carefully hold yourself so you don’t put too much of your weight on him but he’s quick to smooth his palms down your sides to take bruising hold of your hips, forcing you to sit all the way and keeping you locked right where you are. 

While he gets situated behind you, laying back on the pillow he’d grabbed, you steal a harried glance at yourself in the mirror. Somehow this part always manages to surprise you, how soft and voluptuous you look against all the hard muscle and masculine angles of his body. Tits heavy and full, your pussy shamelessly spread open for him and the rigid length of him spearing up in the air between your legs. The visual alone is enough to nearly send you into free fall, and the knowledge that he was about to stuff that thick cock inside your body … you felt like you were going to cum before he even put it in you. 

“Nnghn, Lighter … fuck!” 

He softly shushes you, jostling you slightly as he at last tightens his fingers on your hips to lift your pelvis and guide your cunt into position over him. The shift forces you to go up on your toes, hands splayed out behind you across his flexing abdominals to steady your balance. 

And you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the reflection now when he uses his braced feet on the floor to push up, sending his cock skirting along your sticky slit. You suck in a wet, faltering breath, arching your back to better angle your pussy down. He tries again, slipping and sliding through soaked fleshy lips, and the glans successfully catches at your entrance on the second attempt. 

You almost breathe a shuddering sigh of relief but then he’s pushing into you, good on his word of making you watch him split you in half. The gummy stretch of your body gradually taking him in one fraction of an inch at a time makes you feel faint from how hard your arousal spikes but you deliriously force yourself to keep watching. It’s fascinating, in a way, how his length slowly disappears inside you and demands your tight inner sleeve make room for him until he’s finally sheathed in you straight down to the base. 

Sitting there on top of him like that, cunt stuffed full and blissfully aching, you let out a low, mewling groan of satisfaction as your head starts to loll back as if in a doped out stupor. That little bit of reprieve in which he allows you to adjust is short lived though, and Lighter issues a rumbling groan of his own when he starts to move. 

The immediate heavy bounce of his ballsack excites you almost as much as the heavy jiggle of your tits does, and you cry out at the blindingly sharp bursts of ecstasy that shoot through your system each time he takes an upward jab up into your guts. You can see everything clearly in the mirror from your own pleasure stricken expression and the sweat coating your body down to the vigorous flex of muscle along his thighs. It doesn’t take long for it to start feeling overwhelming in this position though, your cunt completely defenseless and at his mercy like this, and your legs soon begin to tremble when the internal pressure steadily climbs. But the meaty slap of his pelvis driving against your ass and the accompanying wet clicks of your pussy sucking him in deep almost overwhelms any other sounds, and you nearly miss the hushed grunt of his voice when he speaks over your own desperate bleating. 

“Goddamn, you’re taking me so well, sugar … nnghnohh, yeeaah. You like that dick in your little pussy, huh? Already getting so tight for me … aghh, gonna’ cum all over this cock, aren’t you? Gonna be a good girl for me?” 

“Y - yes! I’m - I’m gonna’ — ahhghnn!”

Unable to take the relentless pounding anymore, you gingerly try to lift your lower body from the total onslaught but he just squeezes your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you firmly in place. There’s no escape from him or his cock, and you shudderingly squirm on top of him as your cresting pleasure just continues to climb higher and higher. It was like he was specifically made to fit you, each little ridge and veiny bump along his shaft perfectly stoking the blaze inside your body until it felt like you were going to combust. 

Still, it wasn’t quite enough to tip you over the edge though, and you precariously hang there in the balance, sobbing in pleasure, until he at last slides one of his hands inward to direct the blocky fingers towards your slit. You can see his intention clearly in the mirror's reflection but with your own hands braced behind you there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. Gently at first, then more vigorously, Lighter rubs over your clit with a steady motion that quickly has you teetering over into the awaiting abyss below. 

And for a split second you get to watch yourself cum, get to see the way your whole body seizes up and uncontrollably shakes, how your expression twists in deeply felt relief, before it becomes too much to bear. Your eyes screw shut as you wildly jerk through your orgasm, wailing up at the ceiling while he just continues to pet you and fuck his cock into your pulsing cunt to drag it out. 

You briefly think you might actually die there like that, stretched out on him with your heart jackhammering such a violent rhythm it seems a small wonder you don’t kick the bucket, but at last you finally start to come down from it one fragmented piece of you at a time. It’s a process to refit the pieces back together again but when you finally manage to stir from your semi comatose state, you find Lighter still slowly thrusting into your fluttering cunt to milk every lost drop out of your release. 

At the deeply ruffled, frazzled sound you let out, he seems to realize you’re starting to recover and he seamlessly flips you over onto your stomach with a well practiced twist. Stretching out over top of you to pin your heaving body down, he finds your numb hands with his own so he can direct them high up on the bed and leave you prone underneath him. 

“Well, princess,” He murmurs right into your ear to make you whine a muffled groan into the sheets. “It looks to me like you might’ve finally bitten off a bit more than you can chew. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so tame. Still want more?” 

You quickly nod your head, trying in vain to arch your ass up into him, but it was impossible when his sturdy weight was settled on top of you like that and all you end up doing is restlessly squirming under him. It doesn’t matter though and it doesn’t stop you from trying. That was perhaps the best orgasm you’d ever had and you were still hungry for more. Voracious, even. 

“Yes, yes, yes — please, Lighter, please. Give me more.”

Softly clicking his tongue, he presses his mouth against the side of your head in another hard, toe curling kiss before pulling back enough to rumble a tender, “Insatiable brat.” 

And you really can’t argue against it.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[shomixremix]

THE ALTAR OF ADORATION ♥︎

recently i've been getting more and more into my zhongli brainrot (even though he's been one of my fav characters since forever lol) so here you all go!!

oh also tysm for over 1k notes, 100+ reblogs and 50 new followers!! you guys are the best <3 i really didn't expect that kind of support on my last post - turns out everyone likes some dragon men!! so i decided to write some more, here you lovelies go!!

tags: Zhongli, female! reader, dragon! zhongli, religious themes, sacrificial offering, smut, fluff, mating, breeding, creampie, monsterfucking

-> you have been chosen as a sacrifice to the great geo lord rex lapis, during a period where everyone believed he was mad at mortals. scared for your life and trembling, you now realize there was another problem troubling lord morax.

reqs open ♡︎ | minors DNI

great lord rex lapis roamed the earths and heavens for centuries, ruling the land of geo and its people through the thick and thin. they were very devoted followers, obeying his every wish.

however, the height of his reign has long passed, and people simply stopped caring about their archon. until recently.

crops began to wither, mines dried out, contracts were getting broken left and right - rex lapis has had enough of their careless behavior. his people have disappointed him, and this was a sign of his fury. if something wasn't to change, he would abandon them completely.

the people of liyue decided to recommit to their religion, prepared to offer the geo lord a sacrifice of any kind, just so he'd once again bless them. you, even though born in a time where people lost their respect for the geo lord, have always been a devoted follower, praying to him each day and leaving flowers and beautiful crystals under his statue of the seven.

already being a believer of the geo archon, you were chosen as the ceremonial sacrifice.

while nobody knew where rex lapis resided, the site of the ceremony was chosen to be on mt. hulao. as the crowds of people gathered from all over liyue around the lake on the top of the mountain, you stood in front of them, shaking. while you were a follower of morax, you didn't feel it was right to die for the sins of your people.

"it's time to pay our sacrifise!" yelled one of the townsfolk, holding your wrist in an iron grip as he he slit your palm with a sharp knife. you screamed out in pain as maroon blood dripped down your hand. the man who slit your hand placed a valuable cor lapis stone in it, watching as the orange stone quickly became stained with your red blood.

you held your breath as they placed you on the highest point of the mountain and pushed you off, chanting morax's name over and over.

falling seemed to last centuries, even though it was just seconds. you waited and waited for your body to hit the ground, tightening your hold on the cor lapis and in your head praying:

"rex lapis, if you're here, if you hear my prayer, please, i beg you, save me!"

suddenly, your feel onto something, tightly closing your eyes. was this... death?

you open your eyes and realize this wasn't any kind of afterlife - in fact, you were very much still alive, spread on top of the back of a large dragon. your mortality was confirmed by the sharp pain you still felt in your left hand.

"..r-rex l-lapis..?"

the dragon stayed quiet as you clutched his mane, holding on to him for dear life. he only let you get down once you were inside a large cave, seeming like it wasn't a part of the human world - no, this had to be an adepti realm.

an uneducated mortal maybe wouldn't be certain just who was standing between them, but you knew oh so very well. his goldenish brown scales, the big, honey-colored eyes and the tail which ended in a mosaic of clouds all gave him away. standing before you was the geo archon, the adeptus who saved your life even though you were a peace offering.

he stayed quiet, removing you from his back like it was nothing and moving to a completely different side of the cave, laying down on the cold ground with his back turned to you.

he was in no mood to talk, you knew, but you had to thank him for saving your life.

"lord morax..?"

he grumbled in response, steam coming out of his large nostrils.

"i cinserely thank you for saving my life... i was supposed to be a mere sacrifise, yet you still showed me mercy.. i.. just, thank you so much.."

the second the word "sacrifise" leaves your lips rex lapis perks up, turning to you with frantic eyes. he grabs your hand to inspect the still slightly bleeding cut, tearing a piece of your skirt to wrap around your wound as a bandage. morax tightly ties it, then quickly moves from you.

"it should stop the bleeding," he grumbled low, never turning to look at you, almost as if he was completely uninterested, "i will bring you to the villege tomorrow, little mortal. now sleep. your body needs rest"

how could you rest after such a traumatic experience? after almost having your life, all your hopes and dreams, unfairly thorn from you?

"no, i.. i can't return! they will all know that i failed, that i wasn't the sacrifise they all needed to save liyue from your punishment!"

morax huffs, his tail hitting the ground with a loud thump.

"then you can tell them all that i do not wish for a sacrifise. spilling innocent human blood is not only unecessary but also completely repulsive to me."

your eyes widen as he says this, your body instinctively moving a little closer to him: "you.. do not wish for a sacrifise, my lord? then how should we repay you for our sins? how can we ever make you forgive us for losing our faith in you..?"

rex lapis growls lowly, his body tightening like he was in some kind of discomfort or pain.

"the lack of my blessing isn't for the reasons your kind believes," he growled, "i'm not upset at you humans. now sleep." you knew well that that was an order, and an order coming from an archon must always be obeyed. yet, you didn't, scooting closer to him.

"the only thing to be upset about is that they sent you as the offering. how unfair it is to send one of my most devoted followers to die for my amusement.."

you hold your breath, afraid that he was actually considering killing you.

"i've recieved all the little treasures you leave out for me and have heard your every word. you're a persistant little one, aren't you?" even though you couldn't see him, you could feel the smirk on his face.

the knowledge that he has seen and heard how you worship him makes your heart thump loudly in your chest, a pool of pride and flusterness swirling in your belly.

suddenly, morax smells the air sharply, then started writhing on the ground in pain, cursing out a deep yet broken"fuck..!".

"are you in pain, my lord? can i do something to help?" you ask eagerly, wishing to help your saviour.

"move away!" he roared, steam coming out of his mouth. "go to sleep and stop talking to me when i ask, mortal!"

you frigtenedly to as told, laying down on the ground and turning away from him, squeezing your eyes shut. suddenly, you hear little muffled whines and cries coming from him, which immediately makes you look at him again.

his large head is completely flushed red, his lungs heaving up and down quickly. he panted out short little puffs of air, his eyes bloodshot ready and his body trembling slightly. you didn't know what was wrong with him, he acted like some kind of a wild animal in a rut-

"lord morax, are you.. in a rut..?" it was a shameful question to ask the archon, yet your curiosity got the better of you.

he huffed out, more and more in pain with every passing minute. "i haven't... hah... i haven't been in centuries... it's inevitable i go through it every couple of hundred years..."

morax groans, visibly in a lot of discomfort.

"and of course that when i'm in a rut they just have to send me a gorgeous woman as a sacrifice to worsen my state..."

your cheeks darken as he murmurs this, blood rushing to your head.

"how do i worsen your state..?"

"your arousal" he rasps, "i can smell it, little mortal. i can smell you, and it's torture. it pains every muscle in my body to resist you, but i have to; it's my duty"

your heart aches at his words.

"i can help" you breathe, unsure what you were even offering. his sharp eyes turn to you, piercing you with his gaze.

"no", his answer is short but stern, "i could kill you, i could harm you and leave you not remembering your own name. i cannot do that to my most devoted follower. not to you, y/n"

your heart stops, dropping to your feet.

"how do you know my name...?"

he groans as he explains: "i often wander around the mortal world in my human form, to feel closer to your kind... i have met you a couple of times during your prayer at the statue of the seven. i cannot use your pure body to breed when i know how much respect and hope you have in me. it would be betrayal to you, and you would never see me, nor my human form, the same"

"it pains me to see my archon in pain" you whisper as you get closer to the large dragon, your stomach stirring. you gently touch the scales down his back and feel how he shivers under your touches.

"i want... i want to help you, if i can... i want to help you through this.. you have helped me through the darkest points in my life, and even though i don't know who your human form is, i have a feeling i'm close to you even then... i just desire to help you, lord morax..."

"do you even understand what kind of help i need? what i will do to you if you allow me?"

you smile, running your hands through his shiny mane.

"yes, i understand. use me however you like, my lord."

his self control snaps, big paws pinning you down on the ground. he's panting like a dog as he nuzzles his head against your neck, tearing the rest of your skirt off. only left in a pair of underwear and a thin shirt, you tremble under the archon's touches.

"hm.. such a beautiful mortal..." he hums as he tears the rest of your cloth from your body, leaving you completely bare. you try to cover yourself with your arms, yet morax grabs them and pins them by your sides.

his large mouth comes in contact with your skin, licking, kissing and biting as he moved down. morax grazes your skin with his teeth, never biting down hard enough to draw blood from your veins. you had already done your sacrifice, more blood wasn't needed. his tounge moves from your neck to your exposed breast, swirling around your hard nipples, earning a little whimper from you.

then, he moves even lower, nipping at your stomach. he forces your tighs apart, burying his large head to your folds and forcing you to hold on to him by his horns. rex lapis tastes you eagerly, lapping up any slick your body oh so willingly gave him. you moaned and whined as he fucked you with his tounge, making you come almost instantly.

"ohhhh!! m-morax~ ahh..." you moan as he helps you through it, sharply tugging on your sensitive clit with his sharp teeth, always careful not to hurt you.

"celestia" he sighs into your slick folds, earning a tremble from you. "you taste devine, my dear. i haven't enjoyed such a sweet taste in centuries"

he shows you no mercy and continues to eat you out as if you were his last meal, one paw holding down your wrists and the other secured on your hips, not allowing you to move at all. after about three delicious highs he pulls from your frail body with his tounge, you start begging for the real thing. you knew his rut wouldn't be over unless he fucked you, and you were kinda hoping this torterous foreplay would be over soon...

"m-morax... please.." you whimper, squeezing your legs around his snout. he grumbles low, giving one final lick to your greedy pussy.

"i have to loosen you as much as possible so you could even try to take me. preperations can take up to days."

your eyes open wide and your mouth partens. you couldn't wait days to get him to fuck you, and you certainly didn't know how you'd survive days worth of eating out!

"but i cannot wait that long" he smirks, rubbing your outter tighs and ass. in one swift motion he flips you over so you were on your knees, face down and ass up. you feel his length rubbing up on you; even though you couldn't see him, your eyes went wide in shock. you felt how impossibly large he was, both in size and girth, almost being comparable to your legs.

but another thing surprises you - the head of his cock is poking at your tight entrance, but another thing is poking at your ass! you turn your head in shock, and he reassures you.

"i am different than a mortal, my dear"

you let out a loud scream of his name as he harshly thrusts both of his heavy cocks into you. he thrusts as far as he can, entering your cushy womb from how big he is and almost ripping your ass apart. you scream and cry and writhe yet he doesn't budge, letting you get used to him inside you for a few moments before he starts thrusting.

he starts moving without a warning, dragging you back on his cocks. you turn into a sobbing mess as each one of his thrusts so pleasantly tease your g-spot, bullying your tight walls.

"ahh.. ahhh! mphhh! mmphshs! m- mor... ah! ohhh!"

you cry and cry, not even knowing your own name out of so much pleasure. you feel like your holes are completely loose and yet, clamping down on him greedily. he tugs your head back by your hair, snuggling his nuzzle in your neck so you'd hear him better.

"shh, don't cry... you've asked me for this, little mortal. you asked to be fucked like this, hm? look at you, so pretty like this. so no need to cry, you will be fine. i allow you as much pleasure as you need. "

you couldn't stop yourself from coming, squirting your juices all over his cock. he watches this in amusement, fucking into you harder and faster. in one moment, he threw his head back in pleasure, making a loud roar.

"fuck, y/n..." he groaned as you hiccupped your sobs, finally giving a harsh, last thrust and stilling inside. you felt an impossible amount of warmth spread through your body as he filled you with seed, spilling a wave after wave of cum in your womb. he had filled you so much that it spilled from you, leaving you entirely breathless.

as soon as he's done he pulls out, letting you fall to the floor. he picks up your limp body, curling himself around you and cuddling you close.

"it's alright, my dear... you did perfect. you were just devine, and you've felt better than anything i've ever felt in all my years. rest, now. i will take care of the rest tomorrow."

your head hazy, your mind fuzzy with pleasure and your eyes heavy, you lay curled against him and finally get the much needed sleep.

the next morning, you wake up with a human, veined arm around your bare waist.

"there you are... you are too adorable in your sleep" a deep voice said from behind you, and you turned around, expecting to see the geo archon.

yet, you were faced with a man you knew all to well - the man you had deep feelings for ever since he first arrived in liyue harbour.

"mr. zhongli?!"

he hums out a laugh, tightening his hold on you.

"yes, if i'm correct, we've met in my human form a couple of times?"

you blush deeply, reminiscing on the few blissful times you talked to him. he was a very handsome, successful young man, with great wisdom and a clever mind - and you admired him very much, so much that you couldn't help but fall in love.

"you look dissapointed... are you not fond of me after finding out who i am?"

he asks, his gaze softening and looking almost saddened. you quickly reassure him:

"no, no, i'm not dissapointed! more like stunned.." you blush and he notices, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers.

"oh? why is that? i have always assumed we had a fairly good relationship, y/n. you have always been so nice to me"

"i.. i've had feelings for you for quite a while..." you say shyly, almost embarassed of the fact.

his lips curl into a genuinely happy smile, his arms pressing you closer to his bare chest.

"then everything turned out alright"

you smile, but everything suddenly dawns on you - that zhongli seemed to be okay with your feelings for him, that you almost died yesterday as a sacrifice, that zhongli is morax and most importantly, that oh, you fucked the geo archon, in his dragon form no less!

"am i pregnant now..?" you ask quietly, reminded that the act of a rut is mainly to breed and create off-spring. zhongli laughs at your question, leaving a quick peck on your forehead.

"no, most likely not. but you will be, in a few hundred years, once i have to go through this all over again" you almost choke on your own spit as he says this.

"but... i won't be alive in a few hundred years... you will have to find another to help you through this.."

as soon as you mention him sleeping with another woman his face turns into one of disgust, his strong arms gathering your entire body in his hold.

"as my mate, you will live as long as i do, and i'm immortal, my dear."

"your mate?!"

"yes. by helping me through my rut, you have become my mate. of course, only if that's what you wish" he says, pressing a loving kiss to your eyelid. "and do not worry, my dear, dragons mate for life"

he almost purrs into your warm skin, making a referance to what you said about him sleeping with another woman.

"...being your mate.." you sigh, cuddling into his chest.

"it's like what you humans call "relationship" except a stronger bond, sort of an unbreakable contract between the two of us. a forever promise of care, love and loyalty."

"i think i would like that" you humm into his chest, "but, let's take it a little slow?"

he kisses you full of warmth, his hands soothing your sides.

"of course, my dear. i will take you on a proper date when we get back. for now, just lay there and let me thank you properly for your help last evening..." he sighs as he kisses your shoulder over and over again.

yesterday at this time of day you were supposed to be nothing but a sacrifice to the geo lord, and now here you were, getting your body worshiped by him, forever safe and secure in his arms as his mate.

[literaila]

I'd love to request a reader who's obsessed with love languages (me fr) and is trying to figure out what peter's is without directly asking him

obviously r gets caught in the act

Thank you so much!!

-🔮

stalemate

tasm!peter x reader

warnings: teasing, fluff, complex relationship issues (lying)

a/n: i do believe peter’s love language is physical touch/words of affirmation but that’s a conversation for a different time

*

“would you rather run errands with someone and hold hands, or run errands with someone and get kicked out of the store cause you’re ‘disturbing the other customers?’”

peter momentarily pauses his chewing, raising an eyebrow at you. “one of these scenarios involves me getting escorted out of the grocery store.”

“yeah, but because you’re having too much fun.”

he shakes his head. “no such thing.”

“clearly, there is.”

he rifles through the remainder of his food, like digging for gold, but his cheek is twitching, and his eyes are thoughtful as he looks down. “why cant i have fun and hold hands with you?”

“okay,” you point at him, leaning back. peter, though you’d put his food across the kitchen table, so you could sit face to face, was adamant that you were too far. so now there’s only a table corner separating the two of you. and these questions, of course, building up a careful foundation. “first of all, i didn’t say it was me—“

“who else would get us kicked out of a grocery store?”

“and second of all, because that’s not the question. holding hands or ribs-hurt laughing?”

“both of those sound equally painful,” peter keeps leaning towards you like he knows something you don’t. which he doesn’t.

you lean forward too, undeterred by his challenge. “so you’re a completely-silent-errand-running-with-a-healthy-five-foot-distance kinda guy?”

“we literally went shopping today.” peter gestures back to the kitchen, where bags of produce and sugary containers (peter’s pickings) remain. after dinner, you’d both swore, but you’re having a hard time finishing your food. “you know what kinda guy i am.”

so it goes, on and on. you asking peter the same type of hypothetical questions you’d been all day. he hasn’t seemed to question it, besides a couple of ill-fated looks.

and you do. know, that is. peter did almost get you kicked out of the store today, when he’d tripped over a sign and knocked down a whole shelf of boxes. this, he claimed, was the crime of a faulty layout. though, he’d bumped into the sign in the first place because he refused to let go of your hand, even when it was less than conscientious.

this, though, you don’t bring up.

“if i bought you a gift,” you continue, ignoring his carefully planned out bantering techniques. “would you want something expensive, or something heart-felt?”

“why is that a question?”

you stare at him, nonchalant, gesturing for him to continue.

“are you buying me a gift?” he asks, rolling his eyes at you.

“maybe. your birthday’s coming up.”

“it is november,” he says, dryly.

“good memory.”

peter snorts. “my birthday is in august. you know, like, two months ago?”

“hmm…” you lean your chin on a hand, staring into hard honeysuckle eyes with feigned confusion. “i must’ve missed it.”

“you got me a spider-man calendar.”

“don’t recall.”

“i can go get it,” he points over his shoulder, leaning, again, towards you. enough so that you can feel his breath, smooth and challenging. “it’s just in the bedroom.”

“answer the question.”

he sighs and leans back again, almost laughing. “heartfelt, obviously. like my very cherished spider-man calendar. which is for this year, i might add.”

“what a wonderful gift,” you smile too, adoringly, “you should thank whoever got it for you.”

peter furrows his brows, though not in confusion. “i did,” he says, softly, trying to break you.

but you remain where you are, smiling as cool as you’ve been all day.

which is to say, of course, that you’ve been dancing circles around peter and hoping that he hasn’t noticed.

you hadn’t even thought of it until two days ago, when out to lunch with your friend and she mentioned a book—fabled and probably recommended by some hot-shot magazine—about how to connect with your partner.

“love languages,” she’d said to you, “are the basis to every relationship.”

and this must have been true because despite a rough patch between her and her girlfriend, they were now as solid as always. and you could tell this, just from how at ease she’d seemed.

which, naturally, put you on edge.

not that you doubted peter, or your relationship with him. besides some run of the mill insecurities, peter was probably the loveliest person you’d ever met. so it was probably a bad thing that you had no clue—not a single suspicion, or thought—what his love language was.

thus, the questions began. and peter’s dubiousness doubled with every one you asked.

evident because he was still watching you. “are we acting out a scenario in which you need a visa and i agree to marry you?”

you kick him under the table. “what? i cant ask you questions?”

“i think this is the fortieth one today.”

“i’ve asked, like, three, and you haven’t even tried to answer any of them properly.”

“you know we’re in a real relationship, right? i know your favorite color and everything.”

you stand up from the table, grabbing your take-out container, and his, and walking to the kitchen.

peter trails after you, clearly noticing your evasion. “do you actually need a visa?” he asks, leaning against a counter, almost knocking over one of the grocery bags. “cause i think you’re supposed to tell the person you’re getting married to. so i can ask you some questions.”

“doesn’t seem like you’re having any problems with that.”

peter snorts and comes behind you while you grab something out of the first bag. his hands are warm as they wrap around your waist, resting on your stomach like a possession. “what’s up with you?”

“i’m unbagging the groceries.”

“you’ve been acting weird all day. do you need to talk to me about something?”

“no.” you pull away from him, putting some apples in the fruit bowl. “you’re crazy.”

“yes. i am the crazy one.”

you hum and walk around him, carefully not meeting his eyes.

after a couple minutes of this, with peter pretending to put things away, you break, uncomfortable with the silence.

“painting a room together,” you start, “or cuddling?”

peter pushes off of the counter, his teeth peaking behind his lips. “cuddling, obviously. you’re a terrible painter.”

he moves about a foot away from you, staring, again, like he knows something you don’t.

“what?” you ask him, closing a drawer. you cross your arms.

“nothing. nothing.”

but peter is grinning at you.

“what’s with your face?”

“what’s with yours?”

you roll your eyes at him, not moving. peter copies your stance, and the two of you remain as still as statues, testing one another.

finally, peter laughs. “you think i don’t know what you’re doing?”

“posing hypothetical questions?”

“i know what love languages are, baby,” peter steps closer to you. his hands just lingering by the seam of your shirt. “you’d make a terrible detective.”

despite the heat running through your body at being caught, you narrow your eyes at him. “me? it only took you all day to figure it out.”

“that’s cause i was giving you the benefit of the doubt. i thought you really wanted to know.”

“i do,” you cross your arms, bumping into him, offended. “i would’ve given up like three hours ago if i didn’t.”

“you’re crazy,” he says, simply. his look is amorous. “you could’ve just asked me.”

“no. i should know just from spending time with you. that’s couple 101.”

peter actually laughs. right in your face. he leans down, resting his chin against your head for support. “cant say i’ve ever taken that class.”

“well you should. it’s very informative.”

“okay, professor, then what’s my love language?”

you open your mouth. then close it. you push him back. “i’m not telling you.”

“oh,” peter tilts his head. “why not?”

“cause that’s cheating. figure out your own love language.”

“you think i don’t know what i like?”

“nope.”

peter shakes his head at you. “you just don’t know.”

“you just don’t know,” you poke his cheek. “you couldn’t even decide which cereal to get. we have three boxes now.”

“that’s called choice paralysis,” he informs you, as if you didn’t have this conversation earlier. “and you agreed to that.”

“sure,” you say to him, turning away.

“you’re a sore loser.”

“we’re not playing a game.”

“the elaborate ‘would you rather’ scheme wasn’t a game?” he asks.

“it was an informative questionnaire.”

peter gets in your way as you try to walk out of the kitchen. “then why hasn’t it informed you?”

you roll your eyes at him again. “c’mon, peter, you know that data can take weeks to process.”

he runs a hand up to your face, easily trapping you. “you just don’t know” he repeats softly.

he’s getting close again; resuming the game he’d lost earlier.

“you don’t know,” you say, stubbornly, not meeting his eyes.

“i know i like you,” he answers, breath marring your reaction skills.

and before you can even smile in response, peter is kissing you.

his lips are soft, pushing at you like he wants you to admit defeat. consoling you into a loss. convincing you to back down.

but you refuse.

you pull away, pushing his hand off of you. “that’s cheating.”

“we never set any rules.”

“well you’re breaking one.”

peter leans and let’s it go, crossing his arms as he looks at you, very arrogantly. “that’s okay,” he shrugs.

you attempt to catch your breath while peter stares at you, clearly thinking that he’s won.

“okay,” you say, pouting. “tell me. what’s your love language?”

peter smiles voraciously at this. he takes a step towards you, molding his body heat into yours.

then he shakes his head, his smile falling into something sweeter. “i don’t know,” he whispers to you, hand reaching down for yours, hair in his eyes. “physical touch, probably, before. but i like everything with you. i always want more, doesn’t matter what it is.”

you brush the hair out of his eyes, smiling.

though your intents are less than straightforward, there’s still a part of you that curls under this confession, like it just can’t take it.

“that’s sweet,” you whisper, leaning into him. he’s bent down so his nose is to yours.

peter hums, breathing in the smell of your skin, and pulling you closer and he stands there, lingering on the briefest of touches.

he tilts his head a bit, lips lined up with yours.

and you smile. “i’m not telling you mine,” you whisper to him, quickly pulling away and moving to the table, whistling as you do so.

you start to collect the trash you’d left there, hearing nothing for a moment, but peter’s heavy breathing.

you smile at the sound of his defeat.

“now that’s cheating,” he says, and you laugh.

*

[moonlitstoriess]

The Cost of Deception- Azriel x fem!reader (1/3)

Summary: After years of silence, Y/N and Azriel unknowingly track the same target, only to find themselves face-to-face once more. Betrayal runs deep, and neither is willing to forgive, but the mission must come first—if they don’t destroy each other first.

See masterlist

Part 2

Warnings: angst, SMUT MINORS DNI (I will mention when it starts and ends), violence, azriel being kinda toxic, no mention of but a quick and slight allusion to r*pe (not from Azriel), trauma

A/N: I am not sure if this will be 2 or 3 parts but either ways, buckle up guys it's about to get MESSYYYYY

The cold air of the night wrapped around her like a cloak, the moonlight filtering through the trees in pale shafts, casting long shadows on the ground. Y/N knelt low, pressing her palm to the damp earth, her heart steady, her mind clear. This was not the first time she’d been in a place like this—a dark, unfamiliar terrain.

She’d learned to be patient, to move through the shadows and watch her targets without ever being seen. She didn’t need to be a shadow-singer like him to blend into the darkness. She had her own skills—sharp, deadly, and just as effective. But none of it mattered now. She had one goal: to track down the messenger, the one who held the information she needed, and retrieve it. That was it.

Her pulse remained steady as she watched the lone figure ahead, the man she had been tracking for days now. His gait was relaxed, confident, unaware that anyone was close. He didn’t know it yet, but he was about to deliver his final message. She would make sure of that.

The breeze carried the faintest sound—a rustle of leaves, a crack in the distance—but it wasn’t enough to distract her. She continued to watch, waiting for the moment to strike.

Her eyes narrowed on the man’s movements. He would pass close enough to her hiding spot soon. One wrong move and he’d sense her presence, but she was used to this. Used to the patience, the slow movements, the waiting.

Then it happened.

A sudden shift in the air, subtle but unmistakable. It was a sensation she hadn’t felt in years—the creeping chill down her spine, the tightening in her chest. It was the shadows, or more accurately, the feeling of them. The unmistakable presence of darkness that seemed to shift in a way that was too deliberate, too familiar to be mere coincidence. The sensation was so strong that she had to force herself not to react.

No. It can't be. Not now.

But the pull was undeniable. It was like the shadows themselves were speaking to her, calling her to remember. The darkness was different now. She could almost feel it—heavy, like a weight pressing down on her chest. But she shook the feeling away. There was no time for that. Not now.

Her eyes flickered to her target, still unaware of her presence. She had to finish this. She couldn’t let anything, not even memories, get in the way.

Her dagger felt heavy against her side, the familiar weight grounding her thoughts. She had trained herself to be detached from everything that once mattered, from everything that had tried to pull her back into the past. The past was a lie—one she had shed long ago. It was a falsehood Azriel had woven into the fabric of her life, one that she’d never escape. She had learned that the hard way.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N slipped forward, fluidly, the night air cold against her skin. She was almost there, so close now. The moment she’d waited for. As her target moved into range, she took her shot, leaping from her hiding place to strike.

Her blade sliced through the air, a calculated strike aimed at the messenger’s throat. He had no idea what was coming for him. No idea that he was already caught in the web she had carefully crafted for days. She was so close now, so close to completing this mission. It was the final step, the last piece of a puzzle she had been working on for far too long.

But suddenly, she was shoved aside, the force strong enough to send her crashing to the ground, her weapon slipping from her fingers.

She glanced up and--The shadows.

A figure moved with the shadows, sleek and swift. It was him. Azriel.

Her heart skipped. The realization hit her like a thunderclap, and for a moment, time itself seemed to freeze. His presence, his shadows—they moved with such fluidity, such purpose. They were in harmony with him, swirling and twisting around him as though they recognized him as their master. But as his figure became clearer, she couldn’t shake the feeling of something off—something... wrong.

She scrambled to her feet, her hand reaching for the dagger at her side. But as she glanced up, she saw Azriel strike with brutal precision, his shadows erupting around him. They lashed out at the messenger with terrifying force, pushing Y/N further back, their darkness enveloping everything in sight. His attack was swift—savage—but it was clear that it wasn’t the same battle she had been fighting. This was his territory now, his shadows his weapon.

The messenger, clearly panicked, began to fight back, but Azriel’s movements were a blur. The shadows circled around him like a second skin, pulling the messenger off balance with every strike. The sound of flesh meeting shadow was haunting, but Y/N’s eyes remained locked on Azriel. Her breath was ragged, her heart beating erratically. She had to remind herself to stay focused. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by him.

She had learned the hard way that no one—not even someone like Azriel—was worth the attention. Not anymore.

But the shadows... they were different now, more alive than ever. It was like they knew something—something Y/N didn’t understand.

Then, a single shadow broke off from the rest, seeming to curl and whisper something into Azriel’s ear. She couldn’t make out the words, but it was enough to cause Azriel to pause. His movements faltered, the shadows around him faltering as well. His gaze snapped back to her—his eyes meeting hers for the first time in years.

And for the briefest moment, it was like the world had stopped turning.

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of recognition flashing across his features. His breath caught in his throat. His shadows seemed to hesitate as well, pulling back just enough to give him a clearer view of her.

Y/N’s pulse hammered in her ears as she watched him, but all she could feel was the overwhelming surge of emotion—the betrayal, the pain, the rawness of the years she had spent running, hiding, surviving. Seeing him again after everything—it felt like a betrayal all over again. It felt like a wound being ripped open anew.

Her heart twisted in her chest, but there was no time for that. She couldn’t afford to let him see her weakness. She couldn’t let him see how much he still affected her.

But before she could steel herself, the messenger—seeing their distraction—seized his chance. With a swift movement, he broke free from the shadows that had held him and darted into the darkness, his footsteps fading into the distance.

Y/N’s instincts screamed at her to give chase. She tried to move, but the weight of the moment, the shock of seeing Azriel again, kept her frozen in place. She couldn’t let him escape—not after all this time, not after everything.

Azriel, still rooted in place, seemed to recover from the moment of shock. His face was a mask of disbelief and confusion. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The world seemed to press in on them—the lingering tension of old wounds, of painful memories, of broken trust.

Y/N’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she stopped in her tracks. Her eyes were still locked on the empty space where the messenger had just vanished. Her pulse thundered in her ears, but she didn’t allow herself to move, not yet. Her thoughts, as chaotic as the night around her, raced in circles. This was exactly what she had wanted—the messenger was just one step away from giving her what she needed—but then the shadows had come.

The air around her grew heavier, suffocating. She forced herself to breathe through it, every instinct in her telling her to run, to get away before he made himself known.

Although she refused to look, she could feel Azriel’s presence, like a dark weight pressing into her. That familiar intensity, that hauntingly close silence. She hated it. She hated that he was here, hated that after all this time, after all she had done to stay away, he was still lingering in her world. She didn’t have time for him—she didn’t have time for any of this.

She turned away, deliberately putting distance between herself and the memories he stirred, but just as she took a step, she heard his voice.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

His words cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and biting. She stiffened but didn’t turn around. Not yet. “None of your business,” she said flatly, her voice as cold as the night air.

There was a brief pause. The silence hung between them, thick with tension. And then, the sound of footsteps. Azriel was moving closer. She could feel the weight of his gaze even without seeing him. She could almost hear the curiosity in his voice when he spoke again. “Why were you after that messenger?”

Her lips curled into a tight, humorless smile, the words coming easily. “Does it matter?”

His footsteps didn’t stop, and she felt his presence grow closer, his proximity unsettling her even more. “Why were you after him, Y/N?”

Her fists clenched at her sides, but she didn’t turn to face him. “Because I had my reasons. Now, if you’ll excuse me—” She tried to walk away, every part of her screaming to get out of there, but it wasn’t enough. The urge to flee collided with the cold, suffocating grip of his presence, and before she could take another step, she felt him.

Azriel’s shadowed form was right behind her, so close now that the air seemed to vibrate with his presence. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t turn. She refused to. She wouldn’t let him see the effect he had on her. “Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous, a quiet force that sent a shiver down her spine.

Y/N froze, unwilling to comply. “I don’t owe you that.”

His voice was sharper now, insistent. “Look. At. Me.”

There was no escaping him. The heat of his body was too close, too suffocating. His very presence overwhelmed her. She refused to meet his gaze. “You don’t deserve my look,” she spat, though the words were brittle, hollow in the darkness.

She tried walking straight ahead, hoping to get away, to put enough space between them so she could breathe again. But before she could take another step, his grip was back. This time, it was like a vice around her arm, and before she could fight it, she was yanked backwards. She stumbled, her back colliding with his chest, the air knocked from her lungs as his hold on her twisted her around.

She was pressed against him, her body flush against his, the heat of him searing through her clothes. The space between them was nonexistent now, and it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. His chest rose and fell against hers, his breath steady, but it didn’t calm her. If anything, it only fueled the fury inside her.

“Let go of me,” she growled, her voice sharp as a knife, her chest rising and falling with anger. “Now.”

Azriel didn’t release her. His gaze, cold and impenetrable, met hers with an intensity she hadn’t expected. “Tell me what your business was with the messenger.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered over his face—so much had changed, and yet nothing had. His sharp features, his dark eyes, the shadows that seemed to cling to him like an extension of his soul. She could see the same power in him, the same silent danger that had once been a part of their world, a part of their relationship.

Her lip curled as she bit back the words. “Fuck off.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. His expression remained stoic, unreadable, but there was something there, something dangerous, something like a challenge. “Still as charming as ever, huh?” His voice was laced with bitterness, a familiar mockery that only added fuel to her fire.

She clenched her jaw, trying to fight down the tide of emotions crashing inside her. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, Azriel. Not anymore.”

His dark, quiet laughter filled the air between them. The sound was rich with scorn, with a cold amusement that made her skin prickle. “Still got that fire in you, I see.”

“Just because you didn’t manage to burn it out doesn’t mean it’s gone,” Y/N snapped back, her voice ice. Every word that left her mouth was coated in venom, every syllable laced with years of pain, of betrayal, of anger. She would never let him see how much it still hurt—how much he still had the power to hurt her. But she had learned to hide it, to bury it.

Azriel’s gaze darkened, and for the briefest of moments, she thought she saw a flicker of regret in his eyes. But it was gone before she could be sure. “Where did you run off to after... what happened?” His voice had lost some of its edge, the coldness softening into something more cautious, more probing.

Y/N’s breath caught at the question, her whole body tensing as the memories came rushing back. She had known this moment would come. The one question she had been waiting for, the one he had every right to ask but that she would never want to answer.

She could feel her control slipping, the rage taking over. Without thinking, without a second’s hesitation, she leaned forward and spit in Azriel’s face. The thick, wet sound of it echoed in the quiet night, and for a moment, she was almost satisfied by the shock that crossed his face.

Azriel froze, blinking in disbelief. His eyes were wide for just a second before they narrowed in anger, but he didn’t move, didn’t say a word.

For that one second, everything was suspended in time. She was done with him. She was done with the past, with the memories, with the questions. She didn’t owe him anything.

But then, she couldn’t just stand there. She couldn’t let him see her break again.

With a swift motion, she yanked her arm free from his grip, pulling away from him with every ounce of force she had left. She spun on her heel, determined to escape, determined to run before he could trap her in this moment again.

But before she could get far, she heard his voice once more.

“Y/N,” he called after her, but she didn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. Not for him. Not ever again.

The wind whispered through the tall grasses as Y/N sat at the edge of the Spring Court’s borders, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. The cold was a bitter companion, but it didn’t compare to the chill that had taken root deep inside her. She stared out at the remnants of the once-beautiful land—the Spring Court, shattered by madness and chaos. Tamlin’s madness. Tamlin's pain. It mirrored her own.

Her skin tingled with the faint, lingering memory of a warmth that had once felt like home—the safety of the Night Court, the camaraderie, the trust. But all of it had been torn away. All of it had crumbled in one single, unforgivable moment.

I was loyal. I was always loyal.

Y/N's breath hitched at the thought, the familiar ache clenching her chest like a vice. Loyalty. It used to mean something, didn’t it? It used to be a bond she could trust, a promise she made to herself. A promise she made to Azriel.

Once, she had been part of Azriel’s network—a shadow among shadows, a ghost in the quiet, moving unnoticed between allies and enemies alike. She had done it all for them. For the Night Court. For Rhysand. For Azriel. She had bled for them, sacrificed every part of herself to make sure they were safe, to ensure that the cause they believed in didn’t fall to ruin. She had done things she couldn’t speak of, things that haunted her in the quiet moments before sleep, but she had done them because it was right. Because it had to be done.

But the truth had been stolen from her, twisted into something ugly. It was only a slip of the tongue, a minor misstep, a piece of misinformation given unknowingly. But to Azriel, it had been unforgivable. He had spun the lie, branded her a traitor to the Night Court, and it had been enough. Enough to break her completely. To strip away every shred of honor she had left.

She had never been given a chance to explain. Never given the time to prove that she hadn’t meant for it to happen. That it had been a mistake—a misunderstanding. A mistake that cost her everything.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. She had fought to protect the court, to keep it safe, and yet she had been betrayed by the very people she had given everything for. The betrayal, though, wasn’t just in the accusation itself—it was in the silence that followed. No one had reached out. No one had tried to find out the truth. Azriel hadn’t even spared her the decency of a question. He had believed the lie without a second thought. Without a shred of trust.

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the fabric of her cloak, a low, bitter laugh escaping her lips. Trust.��It had never mattered. Not when it counted. Not when the one fae she had believed in the most had thrown her to the wolves without a second glance.

And now here she was—alone. Alone in the outskirts of the Spring Court, a place that had once seemed so distant, so foreign, and yet had now become her sanctuary. Her refuge.

Tamlin’s court had fallen to ruin after the war, but the ruins were strangely comforting to her. The brokenness of the land matched her own shattered heart. The silence of the Spring Court after the departure of its former lord mirrored her own isolation. Sometimes, she visited Tamlin's destroyed home, though she couldn’t bring herself to see him—he was gone, lost to his madness and grief. The halls that once echoed with music and laughter were now still and silent. But she could feel him, feel his pain, feel his betrayal as if it was her own.

Tamlin had loved fiercely—he still did, in some twisted, distant way—but it had been a love of possession, of dominance. And yet, when everything had fallen apart, she felt as if she understood him now more than ever. He had been driven mad by it—by the devastation of losing everything.

Just like her.

A hollow feeling settled in her gut, and her gaze turned to the remnants of the Spring Court. She had once considered returning to the Night Court, to beg Azriel for forgiveness, to try and salvage whatever trust remained. But what was there left to salvage? There was nothing but the wreckage of what had been. The past was a land she had burned behind her, and no matter how much she wished she could turn back, she couldn’t.

And so she lived here, in the fringes of Spring, amidst the broken ruins. She could hide in plain sight, distant from the world she had known, hiding her true nature under layers of deception and silence. She had learned how to survive. It was all she had left.

But sometimes… sometimes, she allowed herself to remember. She would stand in the shattered halls of the Spring Court, running her fingers over the cracked stone, feeling the weight of all the ghosts that lingered there. Her mind would drift back to the days before—before Azriel had looked at her like she was a traitor. Before he had turned his back on her. Before the shadows had claimed her soul and made her forget who she truly was.

She wasn’t a traitor. She never had been. She had only ever wanted to protect them, to make things right, even when everything felt so twisted. But now that everything had burned, all she had were the ashes.

The weight of her thoughts was suffocating, and the cold wind bit at her cheeks, dragging her back to the present. Y/N let out a long, shuddering breath. The tears she had refused to shed burned behind her eyes, but she would not allow herself the weakness. No. She wasn’t weak anymore. She couldn’t afford to be.

The past was the past. And it was time to move forward.

But as her gaze lingered on the broken remnants of the Spring Court, she couldn’t help but feel the stirrings of something—a whisper of a thought that always seemed to linger in the back of her mind.

What if?

What if Azriel had believed her? What if things had gone differently? What if she hadn’t had to run, hadn’t had to live in exile?

But she had. And now, there was no going back.

It was three days later, as she was busy trying to figure out where the messenger had run off to while cursing Azriel for ruining her mission, that she received a small note. The crinkled piece of parchment arrived without warning, tucked under the door of the dilapidated cottage she had been staying in. It was absurd, really. She hadn’t expected anything today. She had been focused entirely on the wreckage left behind by the messenger’s sudden escape—how that bastard had slipped away right when she was on the verge of getting answers. And yet here it was.

She picked it up without hesitation, not even bothering to check who had left it. But then she saw the handwriting. It was unmistakable.

Azriel.

Her pulse spiked, her fingers stiffening around the note as a bitter wave of anger washed over her. His handwriting—it sent a jolt through her system, a painful reminder of everything she had lost.

Her mind raced. She didn’t want to read it. She didn’t want to know what kind of message he was sending her now. But she had no choice, did she? No matter how much she wanted to ignore it, no matter how much she wanted to forget everything about him, this note, this tiny scrap of paper, was something she had to understand.

With trembling fingers, she ripped the note open, her movements almost reckless in her frustration. The paper crinkled loudly in the silence of the room, each noise adding to her mounting irritation. She stared at the words, her eyes scanning the brief, cold message.

Y/N,

My shadows captured the messenger. As it seems your sneaky, messy self is also somehow involved with him, I thought you should know. If you feel so inclined, you can come to The Silent Keep. I'll be there to investigate and question him.

Azriel.

She read it again, disbelief and fury bubbling up in her chest, threatening to spill over. Her jaw clenched, her hands shaking with both anger and the bitter taste of resentment that had never really gone away. It wasn’t enough that he had branded her a traitor, made her an enemy of the very court she had given everything to. It wasn’t enough that he had pushed her to the edge of destruction. No, now he was rubbing it in her face.

If you feel so inclined...

The words echoed in her mind, mocking her. There was no apology in this note. No acknowledgment of the damage done. Just a cold, calculated offer to come to him. A small part of her wanted to rip it to shreds, to burn the words into ashes and forget they ever existed. But she couldn’t. No matter how much she hated it, she had to think. Had to consider the consequences of her next actions.

And what was he playing at? His shadows had captured the messenger? The one she had chased, the one who had slipped away from her grasp, now caught in Azriel’s web? Her stomach twisted in suspicion. There was no trust in her heart now. No part of her that was naive enough to believe that this was anything other than a trap.

He’s luring me in, she thought bitterly, a sinking feeling spreading through her chest. He’s trying to bait me into walking right into his trap. To capture me... to finally end me. That’s what this is. It’s a game to him.

Her mind spiraled, the thought of Azriel and his shadows pushing her deeper into paranoia. She wasn’t foolish. She knew how Azriel worked—how ruthless he could be when it suited him. It made perfect sense, didn’t it? He had framed her as a traitor, had cut her off without a second thought. Now, he had a chance to finish what he started, to end the loose end that she had become. She was a threat to him, after all, even if she had never meant to be.

A small, cold laugh escaped her lips, bitter and hollow. Wouldn’t it be just like him?

She stood still for a moment, staring at the note in her hands as her mind churned. The idea of walking right into whatever plan Azriel had concocted made her skin crawl. She had trusted him once—once—and look where that had gotten her. No, she wasn’t falling for it again.

What if it was true? What if he wasn’t luring me in?

The thought flickered briefly in her mind, like a fleeting ghost. There was still a part of her that remembered how they used to work together—how they had once been a team. That connection was still there, buried deep beneath the layers of resentment and betrayal. Maybe—maybe—he really did just want to talk. To explain. To fix what had gone wrong.

But no. That voice of doubt in her mind was quickly drowned out by the overwhelming sense of mistrust that had taken root in her heart. She couldn’t allow herself to be that weak again. She had seen what happened when she trusted him. She had been destroyed by it.

She tossed the note to the floor, pacing back and forth in the small, cramped room. Her heart hammered in her chest as she fought against the desperate pull of curiosity—the need to know the truth, to see him face-to-face and hear the explanation she never got.

But there was no truth left for her to discover. There was only deception, only shadows, only lies. And Y/N had learned long ago that trusting Azriel meant death.

I won’t be foolish again.

A final surge of anger gripped her chest, and with a final, scathing glance at the note on the ground, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. She wouldn’t go to him. She wouldn’t fall for his trap.

Not this time.

She ended up falling for his trap once more.

Y/N cursed herself with every step as she made her way toward the Silent Keep. Every part of her wanted to turn around, to walk away and never set foot in that cursed place again. Yet, here she was, her feet dragging her towards her own inevitable fate. She was furious at herself for being so weak, so predictable. She had vowed to never let him manipulate her again, but now, here she was—marching straight into his web.

The Silent Keep loomed ahead, its imposing silhouette sharp against the darkened sky. She approached the entrance, fingers trembling with both anticipation and fury, the same anger that had been festering inside her for days now bubbling to the surface. She was an idiot. She knew this was a trap. She knew Azriel—knew how he worked, how he twisted every situation to his advantage. Yet still, here she was, walking willingly into it.

She stood at the door for a long moment, just staring at it, the anger in her chest heavy. Finally, with a deep breath, she pushed it open, stepping into the shadowed hallway.

Inside, the silence was suffocating. The only sound was her breathing, quick and shallow as her eyes scanned the room, noting every detail, every shadow, every corner that might hide danger. And then she saw him.

The messenger. He was tied to a chair, his mouth gagged and his body trembling with fear. He flinched at every small noise, his eyes wide and panicked. It was almost pitiful. But that wasn’t why she was here. This man—this terrified messenger—was a means to an end. He knew something, something critical, and she had to get to it.

She approached him, her gaze fixed on his shaking form, and moved to pull the cloth from his mouth. But before she could make contact, a voice—low, commanding, and all too familiar—stopped her in her tracks.

"Don’t."

Y/N froze, her heart pounding in her chest as her body tensed. She didn’t have to look to know who it was. The voice was unmistakable. Even though she refused to acknowledge it, her body betrayed her, and her skin seemed to tingle in response.

She held herself still, refusing to acknowledge his presence. She wouldn’t give him that. She wouldn’t let him see that she was rattled. But even with her back to him, she could feel him—feel the weight of his gaze on her, heavy and penetrating. His shadows, the ones that always seemed to follow him, clung to the walls, swirling in the corners of the room, lingering like sentinels. They were almost alive in their own right, a dark energy that pulsed with his every movement.

Slowly, Y/N took a step back, not turning to face him but obeying his command without question. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter, of seeing the pain his voice caused. The man in the chair—his fear palpable, his body trembling even harder—was still the priority, and she would not let Azriel distract her from that.

But the silence stretched out in the room, unbearable and suffocating. Finally, after a long pause, Azriel moved, his steps echoing softly against the cold stone floor. She could feel his presence growing stronger, could feel his proximity like an invisible weight pressing down on her. And still, she refused to look at him.

Then, without a word, he stepped into the room fully, his figure cutting through the shadows, and Y/N could feel the weight of his gaze on her once again. But she wouldn’t look. Not yet. Her eyes remained fixed on the messenger, whose eyes were now wide with even more fear, as if he sensed that something was about to change, something dangerous was closing in.

Azriel sighed, a sound of quiet resignation that sent a shiver down her spine. Y/N’s muscles tensed as he sat down in one of the chairs, the scraping noise of the wood against the stone floor somehow louder than it should have been. He didn’t speak at first, only gesturing for her to sit.

“Sit,” he instructed, his voice barely more than a whisper but still cutting through the room like a knife.

Her body screamed in protest, her instincts telling her to run, to get as far away from him as possible. But instead, she obeyed. Slowly, she sank into the chair across from him, her eyes still on the trembling messenger. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her discomfort, but it was there, swirling inside her, a cold knot she couldn’t quite shake.

Azriel exhaled, the sound carrying across the room. She could feel him watching her, studying her, like he was dissecting every single piece of her. But she kept her focus on the man in front of her, trying to block out the burning sensation of Azriel’s gaze.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Azriel spoke, his voice low and smooth, but carrying an edge that made her skin crawl.

"Let’s start, shall we?"

The air in the room was suffocating with tension, thick enough to drown in. The messenger sat between them, his wide eyes darting back and forth, trembling like a leaf in a storm, while neither Azriel nor Y/N paid him much mind. It was a silent, heavy battle of wills between the two of them, though neither wanted to acknowledge it.

Azriel broke the silence first, his voice smooth but laced with sharp edges, cutting straight through her carefully built wall of indifference. “What’s your business with him?”

Y/N didn’t look at him. She kept her gaze firmly planted on the man tied to the chair, even as she felt Azriel’s piercing stare burning into her like a brand. She ignored him, clenching her jaw, her fingers digging into the arms of the chair as if to anchor herself.

Azriel didn’t let up. “I asked you a question, Y/N.”

Still, she said nothing, her silence a pointed refusal. His tone shifted, softer now, but somehow more dangerous. “You have a nasty habit of getting in my way. It’s becoming tiresome.”

At that, she let out a sharp breath, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Did my existence offend you again?”

Azriel’s shadows stirred restlessly, a testament to his fraying patience. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“And you’re wasting time,” she snapped back, finally glancing at him, though not fully meeting his eyes.

His gaze didn’t waver, his stillness unnerving. “Why are you after him, Y/N?”

For a moment, she debated staying silent just to spite him, to let him stew in his own questions. But then her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, a tiny surrender to her own exhaustion. She exhaled slowly and muttered, “The messenger works for someone.” Her voice was calm but tight, like every word cost her a piece of herself. “Someone I need to get to.”

Azriel tilted his head slightly, his hazel eyes narrowing. “Who?”

She didn’t answer, her lips pressing into a thin line.

And then Azriel said a name, low and deadly. A name that sent chills up her spine. A name she hadn’t uttered aloud in years.

Malrik Duskbane

Her head snapped toward him then, her eyes finally locking onto his. “You’re after him too?” she asked, her voice sharp, incredulous.

Azriel leaned back slightly, his wings shifting, casting ominous shadows across the walls. “Why do you think I went after the messenger in the first place?” His tone carried no humor, only cold efficiency. “Him and his little group have been on my radar for months. And if you hadn’t gotten in the way that night, the entire plan would have been executed perfectly.”

She blinked, her mind racing to catch up with his words. “What?” she said, her voice rising. “You’re blaming me?” She shot out of her chair, her body taut with anger. “You and your shadows—your oh-so-clever shadows—decided to push me out of the way like I was some amateur! You wanted to play the hero and swoop in to capture him, and guess what, Azriel? You lost him!”

Azriel stood now too, his own anger simmering beneath the surface. “I lost him because you complicated things,” he countered, his tone sharp as a blade. “If you’d stayed out of it—”

“Stayed out of it?” she interrupted, her voice full of disbelief. “You think you’re the only one with a right to this mission? You don’t know a damn thing about why I’m here!”

“And you think I don’t have my reasons?” he shot back, his voice rising now too. “Everything I do is calculated—every step, every move—while you charge in blind and reckless, putting everything at risk.”

Her fists clenched at her sides, her breathing shallow and uneven as she fought to keep her emotions in check. But there was no controlling the storm inside her. “You don’t get to lecture me about risks,” she said, her voice trembling with fury. “Not when you’ve already destroyed my life once.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and cutting, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was broken only by the messenger, still tied to the chair, shifting uncomfortably as he stared at them with wide, terrified eyes. It was only then that they seemed to remember he was there at all.

Azriel let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand down his face as he turned back to the messenger. Without another word, he stepped forward, ripped the gag from the man’s mouth, and ordered, “Speak.”

The messenger stumbled, his bindings straining as he swayed forward in fright.

His eyes darted between Y/N and Azriel, like a cornered animal searching for any possible escape. His lips trembled, the gag no longer in place, but his mouth remained stubbornly closed.

Azriel tilted his head, his shadows curling lazily around him as if they were waiting for their master's signal. He leaned back in his chair, his expression cold, composed, terrifying. "I'm only going to say this once," he said, his voice as smooth as a dagger sliding free from its sheath. "Speak, or I'll make sure you'll regret the day you ever crossed paths with me."

The messenger shuddered violently. His breathing quickened, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might resist. But when Azriel's hand rested casually on the hilt of Truth-Teller, the man's resolve crumbled like dry leaves.

"Wait—wait! I'll talk!" the messenger cried, his voice breaking.

Y/N folded her arms, her face carefully neutral. But her mind wasn't. Her thoughts twisted and tangled, caught between the sight of Azriel and the hatred she'd buried deep for so long.

Malrik. The name churned in her gut, pulling forth memories she had spent years trying to suppress.

She blinked back the rising tide and focused on the present, on the man now spilling his secrets.

"The message..." the messenger stammered, his breath coming in gasps,

"was for Malrik Duskbane. I was to tell him that the shipment has arrived. Rare artifacts, stolen from the courts, and some... some weapons-ones the courts don't know exist yet. Malrik has been planning this for months, years maybe."

Y/N's nails dug into her palms. She kept her face still, unmoved, but her stomach twisted. Artifacts. Weapons. Malrik had always craved power, always sought ways to tip the balance in his favor. If he got his hands on something powerful enough, the courts wouldn't stand a chance.

"And what's his plan?" Azriel asked, his voice deceptively soft, as though he had all the time in the world.

"To amass enough power to bring the courts to their knees," the messenger said, his words tumbling out in a rush now. "Malrik doesn't just want control over Prythian. He wants control over every realm connected to it. He's been working with allies, outsiders, people who owe him debts. He'll burn everything to the ground if it means he gets what he wants."

Y/N's chest tightened.

She had no love left for the courts, not after what had been done to her. But Malrik? He was a threat to everyone. His methods weren't just cruel; they were chaos incarnate. He thrived on destruction, and he wouldn't stop until nothing was left standing.

And then there was her personal reason.

Her nails bit harder into her skin, drawing blood, and her throat tightened as she shoved the memories away. Malrik had taken more from her than anyone else.

He had shattered what little of her spirit had remained after she fled the Night Court. He had—

She forced herself back to the present as the messenger continued.

"Malrik's been moving between hideouts," the man said. "It's impossible to predict where he'll be next. He surrounds himself with his loyal dogs-those who would die for him. You'll never get to him. You'll never-"

"Where is he?" Azriel interrupted, his shadows swirling tighter around him. His voice dropped to a dangerous low, all pretense of calm gone. "Where is he hiding?"

The messenger shook his head, frantic.

"No one knows for sure-"

Azriel rose from his chair, towering over the trembling man. "Where?"

The messenger broke. His shoulders sagged, and his voice came out in a whisper. "There's... there's a base. In the Rithlan Pass, beyond the Autumn Court's borders. That's where he and his men have been hiding. But you'll never get close. It's heavily guarded-"

Azriel's cold smile sent a chill through the room. "We'll see about that."

Y/N watched the exchange, her pulse hammering in her veins. The Rithlan Pass.

Of course, Malrik would be hiding there— far from the courts' reach, but close enough to keep his eye on everything.

Azriel asked the messenger a few more questions-sharp, cutting ones that the man babbled answers to through choked gasps of fear. But Y/N was barely listening anymore. Her mind was racing, spiraling into a storm of thoughts and emotions she wasn't prepared to face.

Her chest tightened as the room felt too small, too suffocating. Without another word, she turned on her heel and left, ignoring the sound of Azriel's low voice and the crackling tension that still lingered in the air. She knew what was coming. The messenger would be silenced, Azriel's methods as ruthless as ever. It didn't matter. She had other things to prepare for.

Her boots echoed against the cold stone floor of the Silent Keep as she made her way outside, her thoughts spinning wildly. She couldn't let herself falter now.

Malrik had to be stopped. His name alone was enough to send her back to the darkest moments of her life. She couldn't let him win-not again.

The chill of the night air hit her as she stepped outside, but it did little to calm the storm inside her. Her breaths came faster, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She needed a plan, needed to think.

She barely made it five steps outside before she froze at the sound of Azriel's voice behind her.

"You're leaving already?"

She stiffened, her shoulders tense. She didn't turn around, refusing to give him the satisfaction. She heard the heavy sigh he released, the sound of his boots against the ground as he took purposeful steps toward her. Her heart sank as he stepped around her, blocking her path.

Now, she was staring at his chest-broad and unyielding. The shadows curling faintly around him didn't help, making him seem like an immovable force, an inescapable presence.

"Why are you leaving?" he asked, his voice low, tinged with irritation. "This isn't over."

She exhaled, tiredness seeping into her bones. "I have work to do," she said shortly. "I need to prepare before I track Malrik."

Azriel's jaw clenched, and she felt, rather than saw, the intensity of his gaze. Even in the darkness, even with his face shrouded in shadow, his presence burned.

"You're not going alone," he said firmly.

She blinked, her head snapping up to glare at him. "Excuse me?"

Her eyes barely caught the glint of his features, but she could feel the weight of his words as they hung in the space between them.

"You're not going alone," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'm after Malrik too. Or have you forgotten?"

She let out a sharp laugh, bitter and hollow. "Good for you. You go your way, and I'll go mine. I don't need your help, Azriel. I don't want your help."

His lips tightened into a grim line. "This isn't about what you want. This is about what needs to happen."

"Don't lecture me," she snapped, her exhaustion bleeding into her voice. "You don't get to decide what I do."

"I do when it involves a mission this dangerous," he countered, his voice growing sharper. "You can't do this alone, no matter how much you want to believe you can."

She stepped back, shaking her head. "| don't care what you think. I'm not going anywhere with you."

Azriel's frustration flared, his voice hardening as he said, "I'll be at your door tomorrow morning. Early. Be ready."

She stared at him, her breath catching.

"You don't get to order me around-"

"I don't care," he interrupted, his words cutting through hers like a blade. "This isn't up for debate. I'll be there. You can slam the door in my face if you want, but it won't change the fact that you too are involved.”

She glared at him, her fists clenching.

"And what exactly are you planning, huh?" she said, her voice sharp and laced with anger. "Haven't you done enough? What, now you want to drag me into the forest just so you can get me killed too? Haven't you already destroyed me enough, Azriel?"

His face darkened, the frustration in his voice replaced by something quieter, sharper. "You think I'm trying to destroy you?" He leaned closer, his shadows brushing against her like whispers in the dark. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be standing here right now."

Her pulse raced, fury and something else she couldn't name bubbling beneath the surface. She opened her mouth to retort, but the words caught in her throat.

Instead, she pushed past him, stepping out of his reach, out of his shadow. She didn't look back as she walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't say yes. She didn't say no.

But Azriel's words lingered, heavy and inescapable.

Azriel did as he promised. Of course, it was Azriel, after all—the stubborn prick.

The sharp knock on her door came before the sun had fully risen, the sound echoing through the small, shabby room she’d called home for the past few months. Y/N ignored it, continuing her preparations in silence.

“Y/N,” came his low, clipped voice from the other side. “Open the door.”

She rolled her eyes, tightening the straps on her boots. “Go away, Azriel.”

Another knock. Then another. And another, until the sound became a steady rhythm, grating against her already frayed nerves.

“I’m not opening it!” she snapped, grabbing her bag and throwing it onto the table with a loud thud.

The knocking stopped. A moment of silence stretched, and she thought, foolishly, that he’d finally given up. But then—

A deafening crack echoed through the room as the door splintered inward, the wood barely holding onto its hinges. Azriel stepped inside, shadows curling around him like the storm clouds of her anger.

“What the hell, Azriel?” she yelled, spinning to face him, fury sparking in her chest. “You just broke my door!”

“You didn’t leave me much of a choice,” he replied evenly, as though this was all perfectly reasonable. His gaze swept over the room, his lips tightening. “Why are you living here? This place is a dump.”

She slammed a hand on the table, the sound reverberating in the small space. “Gee, I wonder who I have to thank for that. Oh, right—it’s you.”

His brow furrowed, but she didn’t let him interrupt.

“It’s you who forced me to leave my home in Velaris, Azriel. So don’t you dare stand there and act like you care where I’m living now.”

For a brief moment, she saw it—a flicker of guilt in his eyes. It was gone just as quickly, replaced by the stony mask he always wore.

“That’s enough,” he said quietly but firmly, his voice a warning. “We don’t have time for this. Let’s go.”

She huffed out a bitter laugh, turning back to her belongings. “We? No, Azriel. I’m going my own route.”

She strapped her small bag to her side, ignoring the weight of his gaze. “I don’t need your help, and I certainly don’t need your company.”

He sighed, the sound heavy with frustration, but before she could react, his arm shot out.

Her breath hitched as she found herself suddenly hoisted over his shoulder, her view now of his broad back and the floor swaying below her.

“Azriel!” she shouted, kicking her legs and pounding her fists against him, but he didn’t even flinch. “Put me down!”

“No.”

“Put me down right now, you bastard!”

“You’ll thank me later,” he muttered, his tone maddeningly calm.

“I swear to the Cauldron, Azriel—”

But before she could finish her threat, the world shifted, her stomach lurching as the air around them folded in on itself. The smell of pine and cold earth hit her before her senses could catch up, and when the world stilled again, they were no longer in her crumbling little room.

She blinked, disoriented, as Azriel finally set her down. They were in a forest, the towering trees casting long shadows over the moss-covered ground.

“Where are we?” she demanded, brushing herself off and glaring at him.

“Closer to Rithlan Pass,” he said simply, his wings rustling slightly as he adjusted them. “But not too close. I don’t want to risk Malrik sensing my power.”

Her fists clenched, her chest heaving with the force of her anger. “You had no right—”

“You weren’t going to listen to reason,” he interrupted, his shadows curling lazily around him as he folded his arms. “This was the only way to ensure you didn’t do something reckless.”

“I hate you,” she spat, her voice shaking.

“Good,” he said, his tone flat. “That makes two of us.”

Her glare burned into him, but he didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, he turned and started walking, leaving her standing there, her fury bubbling just beneath the surface.

Azriel ignored the fury radiating off of her as they began walking, his long strides purposeful as he adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder. She trailed just behind him, muttering curses under her breath, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Here’s the plan,” he started, his voice calm and measured. “We’ll walk the whole day today. If we keep a steady pace, we should reach a small village by nightfall. We can spend the night there, rest, and continue on tomorrow.”

“Oh, wonderful,” she snapped. “Can’t wait for a whole day of your delightful company.”

His jaw twitched, but he didn’t rise to her bait. “If we push hard, we should reach the general location of Malrik’s stronghold in two, maybe three days.”

“Three days of this?” she muttered under her breath, kicking at a loose rock on the path.

Azriel’s gaze flicked toward her for a brief moment before he continued. “After you left last night, I went back and got more details from the messenger.”

She glanced at him sharply, but he didn’t elaborate on what exactly he’d done to extract those details.

“I made him draw a map,” he said, ignoring her pointed look. “It’s rough, but it’s better than nothing. He marked the location of the stronghold and the surrounding area, so we’ll have a good idea of what to expect when we get there.”

“How thorough of you,” she said dryly.

He exhaled slowly, clearly trying to keep his calm. “It’s better to be prepared than to go in blind.”

“Sure. Because charging into enemy territory with you sounds like a foolproof plan,” she shot back.

His lips twitched, as if he was suppressing a retort, but he pressed on. “We’ll stop for a short break if necessary, but only for ten minutes at a time. We need to cover as much ground as possible before nightfall.”

“Can’t wait,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“And we’ll keep a low profile in the village,” he added, ignoring her sarcasm. “The last thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves.”

“Oh, I’m sure your brooding presence won’t stand out at all,” she quipped.

Azriel’s wings twitched slightly, but he didn’t respond.

And so it went on like that, back and forth, their banter filling the air as they trudged through the dense forest. Her snarky remarks grew sharper, and his replies grew shorter, his patience clearly being tested.

Eventually, silence took over, the only sounds their footsteps crunching against the dirt path and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. They walked the entire day, stopping only once for a quick break before continuing on.

By the time they finally emerged from the forest and reached the small town Azriel had mentioned, Y/N was ready to collapse. Her legs ached, her feet throbbed, and every step felt like her body was going to give out.

When the lights of the village came into view, she could’ve kissed the first person who crossed her path out of sheer relief.

“Thank the Cauldron,” she muttered under her breath, resisting the urge to drop to the ground right then and there.

Azriel led the way to a modest inn tucked near the center of the village. It was quiet, with warm light spilling from the windows and the faint sound of chatter drifting through the air.

“This place will do,” he said, pushing open the door.

Y/N followed him inside, her legs screaming in protest with every step. All she could think about was a bed—any bed—and finally being able to rest.

The innkeeper looked at them apologetically, fiddling with the keys in their hand. “Sorry, you two came in a bit late. We only have one room left—and, uh, it’s got just one bed.”

“No,” Y/N said instantly, her voice sharp.

“Yes,” Azriel said at the exact same moment, his tone calm but firm.

She whipped her head toward him, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “I said no,” she snapped, shooting daggers at him.

“Please ignore her,” Azriel said to the innkeeper, his tone clipped as he extended a hand for the keys. “We’ll take it.”

The innkeeper glanced between them, clearly unsure of what to do. “Are you... not together?” they asked hesitantly.

Y/N let out a humorless, sarcastic laugh. “Together? I’d rather have my hands chopped off than be in a relationship with him.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, the muscle ticking visibly as he held on by a thread. Without another word, he ripped the keys out of the innkeeper’s hand, grabbed Y/N’s arm, and began dragging her toward the stairs.

“Hey!” she protested, trying to wrench herself free, but his grip was firm, unyielding.

They reached the room quickly, and Azriel unlocked the door with a sharp twist of the key before shoving it open. He released her arm as they stepped inside, and she immediately spun around to glare at him.

The room was small but clean. A single bed sat in the middle, neatly made, with a small table and a single chair beside it.

She crossed her arms, her voice dripping with fury. “I’m sleeping on the bed. You can sleep on the floor.”

Azriel closed the door with a quiet click and turned to face her, his expression cold and unreadable. “Why are you like this?” he asked, his voice low and controlled, though there was a distinct edge to it.

“Like what?” she shot back, her anger flaring hotter.

He took a step closer, his hazel eyes boring into hers. “So infuriating. So...” He exhaled sharply, trying to rein in his temper. “Impossible to work with.”

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Maybe because I didn’t ask to work with you,” she spat.

Another step. His voice dropped, colder now. “What is your problem?”

Her fury boiled over, the words ripping out of her before she could stop them. “You! You are my problem!” she shouted, her voice trembling with raw emotion. “I hate you! I hate you for ruining my life and then having the audacity to show up years later and act like you’re some sort of hero! Like we can just team up and go after Malrik, like it’s some grand reunion of old times! No! Fuck you!”

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, the room plunging into a silence so thick it felt like the world had frozen over.

Azriel’s expression shifted, the cool, unreadable mask slipping away entirely. What replaced it was far worse. His eyes turned to ice, piercing and deadly, and the calm that overtook him was terrifying in its stillness.

Y/N’s breath hitched as he took a slow, deliberate step toward her.

“And what, exactly, did I ruin?” he asked softly, his voice sharp as a blade.

She stepped back instinctively, her spine straightening, refusing to let the creeping fear show on her face. “Don’t,” she warned, her voice shaky but defiant.

Another step. “No, tell me,” he said, his tone laced with icy mockery. “What did I ruin, Y/N? Your cozy little life in Velaris? Your cushy spot among the stars?”

She stepped back again, her retreat bringing her flush against the wall. He was in front of her now, towering over her, his presence suffocating. His wings flared slightly behind him, shadows curling like living things in the corners of the room.

Her breath came faster, but she lifted her chin, glaring up at him. “Will you kill me?” she whispered, the words barely audible.

His gaze didn’t waver, his face mere inches from hers. “No,” he murmured, his voice cold enough to freeze the blood in her veins. “I’ll do something worse.”

Azriel leaned in close, so close that his lips brushed against her ear as he spoke, his voice quiet but laced with a venom that cut straight to her core.

“I’ll remind you exactly who I am—and why you’ve never been able to forget me.”

She couldn’t stand it anymore.

(SMUT STARTS HERE)

With a frustrated growl, she grabbed him by the front of his shirt and crashed her lips against his in a rough, desperate kiss.

The moment their lips met, it wasn’t a kiss—it was war. Teeth clashed, tongues battled, and her fury poured into every movement. She wanted to push him away, to scream at him, but instead, her hands curled into the leather of his jacket, pulling him closer as if she couldn’t help herself.

His hands were just as relentless, gripping her waist like she was the only thing anchoring him. When she bit down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw a hiss from him, he pulled back, his breathing ragged. “Still acting like you don’t want this?” he rasped, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous mix of anger and desire.

“Fuck you,” she spat, her chest heaving as she glared up at him. Her lips were swollen, her voice dripping venom, but it only made the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth sharper.

“Already working on it,” he muttered darkly, his hands moving to her hips. With one sharp tug, he yanked her closer, his fingers pressing into her skin hard enough to leave marks. “Stop fighting it.”

“I hate you,” she growled, shoving at his chest even as her body betrayed her, leaning into his touch. “I hate you for ruining everything, for—”

“Yeah?” he cut her off, his voice low and dangerous as his hand slid up her spine, fisting the back of her shirt. “Hate me more. Tell me how much you can’t stand me while you keep grabbing at me like this.”

“You’re such a bastard,” she hissed, her fingers curling into his shirt before she ripped it open, buttons scattering across the floor. He barely flinched, his eyes locked on hers, blazing with challenge. “You think this makes anything better? You think I’ll just—”

“Shut up,” he snarled, crushing his mouth to hers again. She gasped against him, her nails dragging down his chest, leaving angry red marks in their wake. The sound he made was low, guttural, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

His jacket hit the floor next, and she barely had time to curse at him again before his hands were back on her, sliding under her shirt and yanking it over her head in one fluid motion. “You always have something to say,” he growled, his voice rough as he tossed her shirt aside. “But this—this doesn’t lie, does it?”

“You’re so full of yourself,” she snapped, shoving at his shoulders again, though it was weak, her strength faltering as his lips found the curve of her neck. He bit down just hard enough to make her gasp, his hand sliding to the back of her thigh to pull her closer.

“And you’re full of shit,” he muttered against her skin, his teeth grazing her collarbone. “Hating me hasn’t stopped you yet.”

Her head fell back against the wall, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “You’re insufferable,” she said through gritted teeth, even as her hands moved of their own accord, finding the buckle of his belt and yanking it loose.

“And you’re impossible,” he shot back, his voice low and dripping with frustration. “But here we are.” His hand moved to her back, tugging her closer, his other sliding up to tilt her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “So what does that say about you?”

“Don’t,” she warned, her voice trembling as she glared at him, her defiance still burning bright even as her body betrayed her every word. “Don’t pretend you’re winning.”

“I don’t need to pretend,” he said darkly, his lips brushing hers, teasing and infuriating. “You already gave in.”

Her answer was a sharp tug on his hair, dragging his mouth back to hers as she poured all her anger, her frustration, and her undeniable desire into the kiss. Their movements were frantic, clothes tearing and falling in pieces around them, the room filled with the sound of labored breaths and curses exchanged like weapons.

“You ruin everything,” she bit out as his hands gripped her thighs, lifting her off the ground. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, her nails raking down his back. “Everything.”

“And you make everything a goddamn fight,” he shot back, his voice rough and strained as he carried her toward the bed. “But you’re not fighting me now, are you?”

She didn’t answer, her glare cutting into him even as she pulled him down with her. The bed creaked under their weight, but neither of them cared, too caught up in the storm they’d unleashed.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice a low growl as he leaned over her, his breath hot against her lips. “Say what you really feel.”

“Go to hell,” she snapped, her hands gripping his shoulders as if she wanted to push him away but couldn’t bring herself to let go.

“Already there,” he muttered, his mouth crashing against hers again, the kiss rough and punishing.

And this time, neither of them stopped.

She felt him then, his cock splitting her open as her nails scratched against his back, her moans muffled by his lips. He didn't even give her a chance to adjust, pouring his anger out into her as he pounded her like there was no tomorrow.

Their moans mixed together as Azriel lowered his head down to suck and bite on her breasts. As if that wasn't enough, he brought one of his hands down towards her clit and began to massage it rapidly, causing her to reach her orgasm faster than ever.

He was fully smirking at her now, his pace not relenting even after her orgasm as she tried to weakly push him away.

"Not happening, little trouble. You had so much shit to say for so long, you can give me more."

She weakly muttered another fuck you before he switched positions, forcing her to ride him as he grabbed her waist and began thrusting up to her.

Y/N's fury took over as she began quickening her own pace while leaning down and biting his neck. His grip tightening as he hissed at her.

"Shut up," she managed to moan out but he just grabbed her hair and yanked her head backwards as he planted his feet on the bed and began pounding up into her.

His grip was tight on her as he said, "Yeah? Sorry little trouble, but that's not possible." before bringing her head closer and attacking her neck.

They did this for hours. On the bed, on the desk, on the floor, in the shower, their anger and frustration at each other reaching its peaking point. Each time Azriel fucking her harder and faster, and her curses and moans growing louder and more spiteful as if they both kept remembering and remembering and remembering...

(SMUT ENDS HERE)

By the end of it, the room was thick with silence, the tension from before replaced by the heavy weight of what they had just done. Y/N lay on one side of the bed, her back to Azriel, staring at the wall as her breaths began to steady. Her body still ached, her mind a whirlwind of anger, regret, and something she refused to name.

“I hate you, Azriel,” she muttered, her voice hoarse and brittle, the words breaking the stillness. She meant it—or at least, she wanted to.

Behind her, Azriel shifted slightly, his voice cutting through the dimly lit room like a blade. “Good,” he said coldly, his tone devoid of anything resembling warmth. “Makes this easier.”

The words struck harder than any physical blow, and Y/N’s eyes burned as she clenched them shut. Easier. Of course. That’s all it had been to him—a way to burn off the anger, the tension. A convenient outlet.

Her hands curled into fists under the blanket, her nails biting into her palms as she swallowed the lump rising in her throat. She hated herself more in that moment than she could ever hate him. For letting this happen. For giving in to him again. For being so goddamn weak.

She didn’t respond, biting her tongue to keep from lashing out, from letting him know how much his words stung. Instead, she focused on the ache in her chest, a raw, searing pain she refused to acknowledge.

Minutes passed, each one heavier than the last, until her eyes finally drifted closed, her body betraying her exhaustion. But even as sleep claimed her, her mind echoed with regret, her voice no louder than a whisper in her head: Never again.

And beside her, Azriel lay still, staring at the ceiling, his jaw tight as he tried—and failed—not to think about the way she’d looked at him. Like he’d shattered something fragile inside her. Like he’d ruined her all over again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist open!

[dannyphannypack]

Writing ASL: Techniques to Write Signed Dialogue

Hey, guys! I've been reading a lot of DC Batfamily fanfiction lately, and in doing so I realized how little I see of ASL being represented in written text (love you, Cass!). I wanted to briefly talk about tactics to writing American Sign Language (ASL), and ways that these techniques can help improve your writing in more general contexts!

SOME THINGS BEFORE WE GET STARTED

I will be discussing everything in terms of ASL! If you have a character who uses Chinese Sign Language or even British Sign Language, the same rules will not necessarily apply! Don't be afraid to do some extra research on them.

Do not let this dissuade you from writing a character who signs ASL! This is by no means the end-all be-all to writing ASL dialogue, and I do not intend this post to insinuate that by writing ASL the same way you write English you are deeply offending the Deaf community. If this is something you're interested in though, I highly recommend experimenting with the way you write it! Above all, have fun with your writing.

Related to 2nd rule, but still very important: not everyone will agree that sign language should be treated/written any differently than English. This is a totally valid and understandable stance to take! I do not hope to invalidate this stance by making this post, but rather to introduce an interested audience to how ASL operates in the modern world, and how that can be translated into text.

ADDRESSING SOME MISCONCEPTIONS

ASL is the same as English, just with gestures instead of words.

Actually, no! There is a language that exists that is like that: it's called Signing Exact English, and it's an artificial language; i.e., it did not come about naturally. All languages came from a need to communicate with others, and ASL is no different! It is a language all on it's own, and there is no perfect 1:1 way to translate it to English, just as any spoken language.

2. But everyone who signs ASL knows how to read English, don't they?

No, actually! Because it's a completely different language, people who sign ASL and read English can be considered bilingual: they now know two languages. In fact, fingerspelling a word to a Deaf person in search for the correct sign does not usually work, and is far from the preferred method of conversing with Deaf people.

3. Because ASL does not use as many signs as we do words to articulate a point, it must be an inferior language.

Nope! ASL utilizes 5 complex parameters in order to conversate with others: hand shape, palm orientation, movement, location, and expression. English relies on words to get these points across: while we may say "He's very cute," ASL will sign, "He cute!" with repeated hand movement and an exaggerated facial expression to do what the "very" accomplishes in the English version: add emphasis. Using only ASL gloss can seem infantilizing because words are unable to portray what the other four parameters are doing in a signed sentence.

4. Being deaf is just a medical disability. There's nothing more to it.

Fun fact: there is a difference between being deaf and being Deaf. You just said the same thing twice? But I didn't! To be deaf with a lowercase 'd' is to be unable to hear, while being Deaf with an uppercase is to be heavily involved in the Deaf community and culture. Deaf people are often born deaf, or they become deaf at a young age. Because of this, they attend schools for the Deaf, where they are immersed in an entirely different culture from our own. While your family may mourn the loss of your grandfather's hearing, Deaf parents often celebrate discovering that their newborn is also deaf; they get to share and enjoy their unique culture with their loved one, which is a wonderful thing!

YOU MENTIONED ASL GLOSS. WHAT IS THAT?

ASL gloss is the written approximation of ASL, using English words as "labels" for each sign. ASL IS NOT A WRITTEN LANGUAGE, so this is not the correct way to write it (there is no correct way!): rather, it is a tool used most commonly in classrooms to help students remember signs, and to help with sentence structure.

IF THERE'S NO CORRECT WAY TO WRITE IN ASL, THEN HOW DO I DO IT?

A most astute observation! The short answer: it's up to you. There is no right or wrong way to do it. The longer answer? Researching the culture and history, understanding sign structure, and experimenting with description of the 5 parameters are all fun ways you can take your ASL dialogue to the next level. Here are 3 easy ways you can utilize immediately to make dialogue more similar to the way your character is signing:

Sign languages are never as wordy as spoken ones. Here's an example: "Sign languages are never wordy. Spoken? Wordy." Experiment with how much you can get rid of without the meaning of the sentence being lost (and without making ASL sound goo-goo-ga-ga-y; that is to say, infantilizing).

Emotion is your friend. ASL is a very emotive language! If we were to take that sentence and get rid of the unnecessary, we could get something like "ASL emotive!" The way we add emphasis is by increasing the hand motion, opening the mouth, and maybe even moving the eyebrows. It can be rather intuitive: if you mean to say very easy, you would sign EASY in a flippant manner; if you mean to say so handsome, you would sign handsome and open your mouth or fan your face as if you were hot. Think about a game of Charades: how do you move your mouth and eyebrows to "act out" the word? How are you moving your body as your teammates get closer? There are grammar rules you can certainly look up if you would like to be more technical, too, but this is a good place to start!

Practice describing gestures and action. ASL utilizes three dimensional space in a lot of fun and interesting ways. Even without knowing what a specific sign is, describing body language can be a big help in deciphering the "mood" of a sentence. Are they signing fluidly (calm) or sharply (angry)? Are their signs big (excited) or small (timid)? Are they signing rushedly (impatient) or slowly? Messily (sad) or pointedly (annoyed)? Consider what you can make come across without directly addressing it in dialogue! Something ese about ASL is that English speakers who are learning it tend to think the speakers a little nosy: they are more than able to pick up on the unsaid, and they aren't afraid to ask about it.

Above all, don't be afraid to ask questions, do research or accept advice! New languages can be big and scary things, but don't let that make you shy away. Again, there is nothing wrong with deciding to write ASL the same as you write your English. I've personally found that experimenting with ASL dialogue in stories has aided me in becoming more aware of how to describe everything, from sappy emotional moments to action-packed fighting scenes. Writing ASL has helped me think about new ways to improve my description in more everyday contexts, and I hope it can be a big help to you as well, both in learning about Deaf culture and in pursuing your future writing endeavors. :)

P.S: I am quite literally only dipping my toes into the language and culture. I cannot emphasize how important it is to do your own research if it's someting you're interested in!

P.P.S: I want to apologize for my earlier P.S! What I meant by “I am … dipping my toes into the language and culture” was in direct regards to the post; what I should have said is “this post is only dipping its toes into the language and culture.” While I am not Deaf myself, I am a sophomore in college minoring in ASL and Deaf Culture, and I am steadily losing my hearing. Of course, that does not make me an authority figure on the topic, which is why I strongly encourage you to do your own research, ask your own questions, and consult any Deaf friends, family, or online peers you may have.

[bayambii]

hsr make out headcannons

warnings: not ns!fw but a little filthy

characters: gepard, kafka, sunday and seele

bambis comments: gen the most hodgepodge of characters but whatvr. someone just throw me against a wall alr 🙄🙄 SORRY ITS SO SHORT FOR SEELE I PROMISE I LOVE LESBIANS 🩷

gepard

definitely like obsessed puppy boyfriend GOD I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

it’s not like.. desperate in like a weird way. but like desperate in a very hot way

making out isn’t like a want for him, it’s very much a need. like it’s the air that he needs to breathe

he’s like almost always falling all over you when you guys make out, and it’s so cute stawpp

his hands!! help!!!

wandering hand syndrome! ok.! he cannot help it he just needs his hands in your hair and on your thighs and oh em gee it’s up your shirt now hehehrhhh

definitely would have you wet just from making out cause it’s a very sensual thing for him he can’t help it okay

he’s a heavy breather, and definitely pants a lot

you would think because he’s so in love with you he’d want to step back and look at your face more but he’s very VERY busy okay

you give this boy a job and he will complete it

( the job is to get you horny )

kafka

mommy freaking mommy hello

another victim of wandering hand syndrome but for her she CAN help it. she just really wants to touch you. in . more ways than one ! :D

i feel like she’d grab your hair and bunch it up like crazzyy

like after you guys r done you back up and you’re like oh my god. my fucking hair kafka what da hell

she don’t care

very much into telling you what to do, or where to pay attention

where to kiss where to touch yes freaking maam whatever WHATEVER YOU SAY OK

she likes a height difference and very much is into looking down i repeat DOWN AT YOU

that’s hot idc

sunday

i know people like to characterize him very like dominant but I DISAGREE PEOPLE I DISAGREE

he’s very much a people pleaser

scratch that, he’s a YOU pleaser

he loves to freaking worship the hell out of you, kissing whatever he can

only someone of his purity can put his hands on you like this, okay?

he’s very much into like a height difference like kafka, but this time looking up at YOU

like you’re in his lap and he just rubs his hands along your arms looking up at you

he’s very much a starer loves to freaking stare at you

just THE THINGS HE WOULD DO TO JUST STARE AT YOU ALL DAYY okay

if he could get paid to stare at you, man he would be rich as hell

he’s not really as much of a wandering hand person, but just pays attention to one spot

yeah you know the spot ;P

seele

she’s also very desperate but desperate and ROUGH

man she needs you and needs you bad

she’s always grabbing and pushing at you

does she want to be close to you or super far away from you? the world may never know

but there’s also moments where damn she just wants to be taken care of

like lay back and just let you kiss all over her

either way, it’s all out of love

she breathes a lot too. is she asthmatic? no she’s just very much in love with you

[thewizardingpost]

The Sting of Jealousy

poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary ⌇ dating them comes with rewards and consequences, one of which is dealing with your jealous roommate. warnings ⌇ 1.8k, estblashed relationship, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, bullying, injuries (r receiving, bruises), Marauder's coat described as loose on reader, this is my post (I just got a new account)

Whenever you felt like you were taking two steps forward, there would always be a day when you had to take one step back. It was life’s way of reminding you that things aren’t always fair—that for every ounce of happiness, a bad day lurks nearby to keep you humble.

Since you’d started dating the Marauders, it was like you’d been placed center stage with a spotlight shining directly on you. You weren’t completely invisible anymore—their reputations had eclipsed your own. Being friends with them was one thing, but dating them was another—and it had brought a lot of negative attention. You had “crossed the line” for many onlookers. Those who had fantasized about being with the three of them before bed and during classes weren’t happy to discover that you’d taken the place they’d only dreamed of.

They just couldn’t understand why they’d open up their circle for someone like you.

Your roommate—after witnessing a kiss placed on your cheek—felt her heart drop. The door had barely shut before she was moving off her bed.

“Did James Potter just kiss your cheek?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you waved her off, moving to your bed to remove a coat that your roommate immediately recognized as too loose on you.

“That’s not nothing,” she slid over to sit beside you. “How long have you been with James?”

You fiddled with the coat. “And Remus and Sirius. I’ve been with them for a month now.”

She nodded, biting her cheek and looking away. “So the rumors are true.”

“What rumors?”

You watched her stand, eyes following her as she wandered back to her side of the room. The prolonged silence made your heart race just a little faster.

“That you’re a whore for dating three men.”

You felt as if you stopped breathing, your breaths short and shallow.

“What?”

“Others are saying wild things, suggesting you’ve cast spells to get them to date you,” she added, looking at you almost playfully. “Have you?”

“No. Never.”

“Hm. Not sure why that’s hard for me to believe. Anyway, goodnight.”

She climbed into her bed, turning her back toward yours. The weight of her words affected you both differently. It brought a smile to her face, knowing she’d made yours drop.

The next day, you noticed people staring, others whispering behind their hands as they looked in your direction. With the knowledge of what people were saying, you felt self-conscious—walking with your mind tumbling in all directions. Two hands appeared in front of you, gripping your forearms.

“G’morning,” James smiled down at you. You attempted to return the smile, but it felt forced. “You nearly ran into me. Everything alright?”

“I’m alright,” you lied, “I just didn’t sleep well. Sorry.”

He didn’t seem to fully believe you, but he pulled you into a hug anyway. In his mind, he hoped it would help like it always had before, but this time was different. The affectionate gesture caught the attention of nearby students. The glares you received made you pull away from him. You were sure there was confusion and hurt on his face, but you intentionally avoided looking at him.

It was like someone else was controlling your body. You didn’t want to hurt him or push him away, but out in public, it felt like your eyes glazed over. Your focus shifted from the guys to anyone else that passed by. It did nothing but worry them. You noticed the way they exchanged looks across the dining table, but they brushed it off that night—trusting your word that you were just tired.

Back in your room that evening, you found your roommate and a few of her friends lounging on her bed. You offered them a polite smile, but it did nothing to thaw their cold expressions.

“Where are your boyfriends?”

“Back in their room. I can go get them if you—”

“No need,” she interrupted, patting the sheets beside her. “We just wanted to talk to you. Can you come over here, please?”

As you stepped toward them, you found yourself stumbling backward instead. You collided with the edge of her desk, your arm taking the brunt of the fall. The impact made you wince.

The girls smiled, not caring at all that you had just injured yourself on their behalf. You’d been sure the rug had been beneath you, but when you looked down, you saw it had been pulled into a different section of the room. It was almost as if they’d moved it on purpose.

“Oops,” your roommate whispered, wand raised. “Sorry. Just trying to prepare you for when the boys inevitably ‘pull the rug out from under you.’ By that, I mean they’ll dump you.”

You blinked back tears, rushing out of the room. With your room occupied, you were thankful there was one place you could go—their room. Even before you’d started dating them, they’d always welcomed you to stay.

James opened the door when you knocked, his wide smile faltering when he saw your expression.

“Who’s at the door?” Sirius asked from inside. James opened the door wider so Sirius could see.

“Would it be okay if I stayed here tonight?”

“Of course, you’re always welcome,” James said, stepping aside so you could slip through. He sent a glance to the other two as you did. You settled at the edge of the bed, Remus sitting closest to you, a book on his lap. James flopped back on the ruffled sheets near Remus.

Usually, when you came over, you were greeted with hugs and kisses all over your face. You missed the teasing and planning for the next day. Now, the room was silent, and all their attention was fixed on you.

“Are you okay, dove?” Remus’s voice was soft.

“Yeah.”

“Anything happen?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Sirius swung his chair around, dropping the front legs to the floor as he leaned in. “We can all tell something’s bothering you. You keep looking off like there’s a ghost in the room.”

“I’m fine. Honest.”

“Like hell, you’re fine.”

Remus shot Sirius a look, and he threw his arms up in exasperation. James moved closer, sitting beside you and rubbing sweet circles on your back. When his fingers brushed over your left side, where you’d collided with the desk, you couldn’t help but flinch.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed James flinch too.

The room went still. The tension was palpable, freezing everyone in place. You heard Remus stand up behind you.

“Can I lift your shirt?”

You nodded, allowing him to pull up the side of your sweater. He examined the spot where you’d winced earlier. The welt was just beginning to form, but there was enough swelling and color to worry them.

“Is this why you’ve been distant lately?”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked into Remus’s gentle gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I didn’t mean to hide anything from you.”

He shushed you gently. “Don’t apologize. Can you tell us how you got this?”

“I swear to Merlin, if anyone else caused this injury…” Sirius began, but he stopped when James placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s let her explain first before we jump to conclusions,” Remus said, his thumb gently brushing over your hand, urging you to speak.

“The other night when you dropped me off, my roommate saw you kiss me goodnight. For some reason, she brought up the rumors people have been saying about us, about me. And… I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have pushed you all away over a few rumors.” You glanced at James. “And just now, at my room, I think she pulled the rug out from under me—like a cruel prank. She said she wanted to prepare me for when you’d do the same.”

James’s grip on Sirius’s shoulders tightened as he tried to stand. “Really, James? You’re going to stand there while her roommate is in the room right now? Perfect timing, don’t you think?”

“I know,” James replied, holding Sirius back. “But it’s better to deal with this now. Look,” he nodded toward you, seeing you weeping into your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “I should’ve told you.”

“Why didn’t you?” Remus asked gently.

“I didn’t want to be a bother. I thought you’d all dealt with stuff like this before.”

“We have,” James chimed in. “But we had each other. We learned to tune them out.”

Sirius threw his hands up. “I’m only coming to talk to her. Calm down.” He turned to you, his expression softening. “Look, gorgeous, I’m sorry for what she said and did. None of it was warranted. My only regret is that you didn’t come to us sooner. If you’d told us what she said right after, she never would’ve done what she did just now. I can promise you that.”

You smiled through

your tears, and the sight made his lips twitch upward.

“You’re right,” Sirius continued. “Even if you told us, it wouldn’t stop people from being arseholes. But it would’ve meant we could care for each other. You don’t have to go through that alone, alright? Promise you’ll talk to us next time?”

“Promise.”