#they both feel like their personalities clash too much at first

[psi-spectacular]

psychonauts prequel movie about Sasha and Milla where Milla is the star rising in the ranks who's currently getting such a good grade in mental health (just kidding, she been to therapy but really isnt coping well) and Sasha is a dorky college professor type and they have a strangers to rivals to friends to 10000000 years of mutual pining arc

[gyuuberryy]

prince charming's mismatch

pairing: prince!heeseung x princess!reader

synopsis: you and prince heeseung have been rivals for as long as you can remember. what began as childhood clashes has grown into a deep-seated animosity over the years. but when your sister runs away on her wedding day, you're forced to take her place and marry heeseung—the last person you ever wanted to call your husband.

now bound in an unwanted marriage, you’re faced with navigating the tension between your unresolved hatred and an unexpected attraction. as palace intrigue and looming threats surround you both, you must confront the truth of your feelings. will the bitterness between you tear you apart, or will it ignite something far more powerful?

genre: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, arranged marriage au

warnings: highly suggestive content!!! kissing, hee and reader are mean at first, insecurities, jealous!hee

note: i've been meaning to write this plot for an year now, im happy with how it turned out! e2l with hee is always soo fun to write. enjoyy

word count: 11.5k

royally yours masterlist | next: jay

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the first time you met prince heeseung, it was at a grand summer garden party hosted by your parents in the palace’s sprawling grounds. you were barely six years old, and he wasn’t much older, yet even then, the air between you crackled with something akin to competition. your governess had dressed you in your finest lace frock, with your hair tied in perfect ribbons, but none of that mattered. you were too busy building a grand sandcastle near the fountain, your little fingers carefully patting the turrets into shape.

that was when heeseung appeared, his shadow falling over your castle like a storm cloud. he crouched beside you without so much as a polite greeting, his royal title apparently excusing his lack of manners. his eyes, sharp for a child, surveyed your handiwork critically.

“that’s not right,” he declared, reaching out to touch one of your towers. “the walls need to be thicker, or it’ll fall.”

you frowned, already bristling at the unsolicited advice. “it’s my castle. i know what i’m doing.”

he smirked, a small, superior thing that made your blood simmer even at that tender age. without asking, he began "fixing" it, his hands too rough as he demolished what you had so carefully crafted.

“stop!” you cried, shoving him back with all the strength your little body could muster. heeseung stumbled, landing awkwardly on the grass, but instead of being chastened, he merely laughed.

“see?” he said, gesturing at the collapsed sandcastle. “i told you it would fall.”

tears of frustration welled in your eyes as you glared at him. “you ruined it! i didn’t ask for your help!”

heeseung stood, dusting off his fine clothes, a boyish smirk still plastered on his face. “you should thank me. i was doing you a favour.”

from that day forward, any time your families met, it was as if an unspoken rule had been established—whenever you were in the same room, you and heeseung would find something to argue about. it didn’t matter if it was who deserved the biggest slice of cake or who could recite their latin conjugations faster; the two of you were constantly at odds.

as the years passed, your mutual disdain only deepened. by the time you were ten, heeseung had already earned a reputation as the golden boy of his kingdom, a future king who excelled in everything he touched. your own accomplishments were always impressive—your parents had ensured you were well-versed in languages, history, and the fine arts—but whenever heeseung was around, it felt as though all your achievements paled in comparison.

“did you hear?” one of your tutors asked one morning as you sat in the drawing room, diligently practising your embroidery. “prince heeseung has been awarded top marks in his studies again. he’s to receive a commendation from the royal academy.”

you didn’t look up, but your needle paused for the briefest of moments. “how wonderful for him,” you muttered, the words heavy with sarcasm.

that evening, at another royal banquet, you couldn’t help but bring up your own accomplishments, eager for even a crumb of recognition.

“i’ve been practising my archery,” you said proudly to the gathered guests, though your eyes couldn’t help but flick toward heeseung, who lounged nearby, looking as regal and aloof as ever. “i managed to hit the bullseye several times this week.”

heeseung glanced up lazily, catching your eye with that familiar, insufferable smirk. “impressive,” he said in a bored tone, “though archery isn’t quite the same as, say, fencing. that requires real skill.”

your fists clenched under the table, your pride wounded by his casual dismissal. but this was the way it always went. no matter what you did, heeseung always found a way to make it seem insignificant, as though he were the sun and you were merely a star dimmed by his brilliance.

by the time you were both teenagers, the animosity between you had grown more complicated, though no less intense. you found yourselves at the same royal gatherings, balls, and court functions, and each time, it was as if the entire room held its breath, waiting to see what you and heeseung would clash over next.

at one particularly grand ball, you had been feeling proud of your debut. you wore a gown of the finest silk, and you’d received more than a few admiring glances from the eligible noblemen in attendance. you were certain this was your night to shine—until heeseung approached.

“you look well enough,” he said, his voice smooth but with an edge that set your teeth on edge. “though i hope you don’t trip during the quadrille like last time.”

your cheeks flushed, remembering all too well the minor misstep you’d taken at a previous ball. “i won’t,” you snapped, glaring at him. “and even if i did, it’s better than fencing yourself into a corner like you did at the tournament last month.”

his smile faltered for just a second, but that was enough to make you feel victorious.

yet, despite the constant barbs, there was something else simmering beneath the surface now—a tension you refused to name. you hated the way your heart raced whenever heeseung was near, the way his presence seemed to fill every corner of a room. and, though you’d never admit it, you hated even more that part of you missed the old days when your squabbles were simple, childish things.

it all changed the day your sister’s engagement to heeseung was announced. the prince who had been your lifelong nemesis was now to become your sister’s husband, the future king of your kingdom. it was a match made for political alliance, but it felt like a betrayal. you had expected more from him—well, not more kindness, but certainly more rebellion. yet, heeseung accepted the engagement with the same cool composure he did everything else.

for the first time in years, he stopped seeking you out, stopped picking those fights you had come to expect. he no longer bothered with sharp remarks or smug smiles. instead, he kept his distance, as though you were beneath his notice.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. after all, what did you care if heeseung ignored you now? he was going to be your brother-in-law, and that was enough reason to keep things civil. and yet, a strange, hollow feeling settled in your chest whenever you saw him and your sister together. he was colder now, more mature, but somehow more distant than ever.

little did you know, your rivalry with prince heeseung was far from over. if anything, it was only just beginning.

the night your world fell apart, it started with a simple knock on your chamber door. the palace had been abuzz with preparations—florists arranging garlands, tailors hemming gowns, and courtiers whispering about the grand union that would strengthen two kingdoms. you had spent the evening rehearsing your duties as maid of honour, biting back any remnants of bitterness that still clung to your feelings about the match. it didn’t matter that you had spent your entire life despising heeseung; your sister loved him, or at least, she was supposed to.

you were preparing to retire, brushing your hair by the dim glow of candlelight, when your sister slipped into the room, her face pale and eyes wide with fear. you’d never seen her look so frantic. your heart sank before she even said a word.

“i’m not going to marry him,” she whispered, wringing her hands in the folds of her silk nightgown. her voice trembled, but it was steady enough for you to know she wasn’t joking.

your heart lurched. “what are you talking about? the wedding is tomorrow!”

her wide eyes darted to the door as if she feared someone might overhear. she leaned in closer, gripping your wrist with trembling fingers. “i can’t marry heeseung,” she said urgently. “i don’t love him. i’m leaving tonight.”

the words hit you like a physical blow. “you’re what?”

“i’m eloping,” she said, her voice firmer now, as if saying it out loud gave her courage. “with lucien.”

lucien. you barely knew the man, a minor noble from another court, but he had charmed your sister quickly. he was handsome and witty, but far beneath her station. you stared at her, disbelief mixing with fury.

“lucien? are you mad? you can’t just abandon your duty for—”

“for love?” she interrupted, her voice rising in defiance. “yes, i can. i won’t be trapped in a loveless marriage with a man who cares nothing for me.”

you swallowed hard, your mind racing. heeseung, distant and cold as he had been with you, had shown no signs of affection for your sister either, but this was bigger than personal feelings. the marriage was political, a union meant to secure alliances, peace, and power. your sister fleeing would bring nothing but chaos.

“you’ll ruin everything,” you whispered, your voice thick with the weight of the consequences. “our families, the kingdoms—this is bigger than you.”

her eyes softened with a mix of guilt and determination. “i know. but i can’t live my life for duty, not like this.” she stood, gathering a small satchel you hadn’t noticed before, already packed and ready for her escape.

“you won’t stop me, will you?” she asked, her gaze pleading.

you wanted to scream, to shake her out of this madness, but your throat tightened. she was your sister. you loved her. and you knew, deep down, that nothing you said would change her mind.

“i should,” you said, your voice quiet, brittle. “but no. i won’t.”

your sister smiled, a fragile, relieved thing, before pulling you into a tight embrace. the hug felt final, like the end of something neither of you could come back from. when she finally let go, you stood frozen in the middle of her room as she slipped out the window and into the night, her footsteps fading into the shadows.

the palace remained blissfully unaware of the catastrophe until morning, when your mother’s scream shattered the early dawn peace.

the palace was in chaos the next morning. servants rushed through the halls, panic etched on their faces as whispers spread like wildfire—the bride had run away. you stayed in your chambers as long as possible, trying to gather your thoughts, your emotions, trying to prepare for the inevitable fallout.

when the summons came from your father, it felt like a death knell. the walk to the throne room felt endless, each step heavier than the last. the moment you stepped through the grand doors, you saw heeseung standing beside your parents. his face was a mask of icy calm, but his eyes…his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them, cold and unforgiving.

he didn’t even glance at you as your father spoke.

“your sister has disgraced this family,” your father’s voice boomed, his tone laced with anger and disappointment. “but the marriage cannot be abandoned. the alliance with heeseung’s kingdom is too important.”

you stood still, your stomach churning as you braced for what was coming.

“therefore,” your father continued, his gaze hard as stone, “you will take her place.”

for a moment, the words didn’t register. you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. you? marry heeseung? no, it wasn’t possible. you had spent your entire life in a silent war with him. the idea of marrying the man who had been your nemesis since childhood was unthinkable.

your mother’s voice, soft but firm, broke the silence. “the arrangements have already been made. the wedding will proceed as planned. you will become heeseung’s bride.”

“no.” the word slipped from your lips before you could stop it, your heart racing. “i can’t.”

your father’s eyes narrowed, and your mother’s expression hardened with disappointment. “you will do your duty,” your father said coldly. “this is not up for discussion.”

duty. it always came down to that. your entire life, you had been prepared for moments like this, but not this moment. not like this.

finally, you turned to heeseung, desperate for any sign of protest, for him to say something—anything—that would stop this madness. but he was silent. his face remained expressionless, as though none of this affected him. he looked at you as if you were just a piece of the puzzle, another part of the kingdom’s grand design.

“is that all i am to you?” you asked, your voice shaking. “just a replacement? a stand-in for the bride who ran away?”

for the first time, heeseung’s gaze met yours, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable, buried deep beneath the coldness. but his words cut through you like ice.

“you’re a princess,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp. “your role is to serve your kingdom. that’s all that matters.”

a bitter laugh escaped your throat. “you’ve hated me for years, heeseung. and now you expect me to just—what? pretend none of that matters?”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. instead, he turned away, his indifference stinging more than any of the insults you had traded over the years.

your father spoke again, his tone final. “the marriage will happen. prepare yourself.”

the grand hall was suffused with the glow of flickering candles and soft sunlight filtering through stained glass windows. the scent of fresh roses—your sister’s favourite, not yours—hung heavily in the air, mocking the gravity of the moment. you stood at the entrance of the hall, your hands clenched so tightly around the bouquet that your knuckles were white. the murmurs of the courtiers echoed around you, a constant hum of speculation and judgement. no matter how well you carried yourself today, the whispers wouldn’t stop.

the switch of the bride was the scandal of the century, and you were at the centre of it.

ahead of you, heeseung stood tall, his face as unreadable as stone. the same detachment was in his eyes, his expression cool and composed as if this marriage was merely another political manoeuvre for him, another step toward the throne. he didn’t look at you with warmth, or even a hint of care. to him, you weren’t his wife—you were the replacement for the woman who had run away.

you walked down the aisle, every step heavier than the last, the reality of your situation crushing you. heeseung’s gaze was steady as you approached, but it wasn’t the gaze of a man looking at his bride. it was a look of cold calculation, a man who had resigned himself to duty.

when you finally reached him, your heart thudding loudly in your chest, you barely registered the priest's words. the vows—sacred, binding—felt hollow, like a cruel twist of fate. how could you stand here, repeating the words meant for your sister? they weren't meant for you. you were never supposed to be the bride.

heeseung took your hand, and the warmth of his skin was a sharp contrast to the chill that ran down your spine. his grip was firm, not gentle, but not cruel either—just dutiful. he spoke his vows with a steady voice, each word sounding rehearsed, as though they meant nothing to him beyond their formality.

and then it was your turn. you hesitated, the weight of the kingdom on your shoulders, your pulse quickening. your voice trembled slightly as you repeated the vows, feeling the eyes of everyone in the hall on you—expecting you to fulfil your role, to be the perfect princess. you could barely choke out the words, but somehow, you managed. and with every word, you felt the invisible chains of your new life tightening around you.

when the priest finally pronounced you husband and wife, heeseung’s lips brushed yours in the briefest of kisses—so cold and devoid of feeling that it felt more like a business transaction than the union of two people. the cheers of the court erupted around you, but in that moment, the applause sounded like the closing of a cage. you were trapped, bound to him, to this life.

as you turned to leave the altar, heeseung offered his arm, the tension between you palpable. his eyes flickered to yours for a brief moment, but there was no warmth there. just that cold, resigned look you had grown accustomed to. you were both playing your roles, just as you had been trained to do your whole lives.

but this wasn’t a game. this was your future, and it felt like a noose tightening around your neck.

the wedding feast had been a blur—a cacophony of forced smiles, hollow congratulations, and polite toasts that masked the underlying tension. you had barely spoken a word to heeseung throughout the entire affair. he hadn’t made any attempt to speak to you either, remaining as distant and composed as ever.

now, as you stood alone in the chambers that were to be yours and heeseung’s, the reality of your new life settled heavily on your chest. the palace chambers were far too quiet, the air thick with the tension that had been building between you and heeseung for years. as you stood in the centre of the room, staring at the enormous bed draped in rich fabrics, it felt like the walls were closing in. the room was elegantly decorated—ornate tapestries hung on the walls, and the grand four-poster bed was fit for a queen. but none of it mattered. the splendour felt like a mockery of the situation you found yourself in. tonight, this room was not a sanctuary but a gilded cage.

your breath caught in your throat as the door creaked open. heeseung entered, his presence commanding even in the subdued candlelight. the tension between you was palpable, stretching like a thin, fragile thread that could snap at any moment. his gaze flicked toward you briefly, but he didn’t speak, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

heeseung moved with practised grace, his movements calm and deliberate. he began undoing the buttons on his ceremonial jacket, the fine fabric sliding off his shoulders and landing in a careless heap on the chair by the vanity. you stood frozen, unsure of what to say, what to do. this wasn’t how you had imagined a wedding night would feel—though you had never dreamed this night would be with heeseung, of all people.

his back was to you now, his broad shoulders tense, though he did nothing to betray any emotion. you could feel the distance between you both, even though he was just across the room. heeseung had always been composed, guarded, but tonight, his coldness cut even deeper than usual.

he finally broke the silence, his voice low but steady. “it’s late. you should rest.” there was no affection in his tone, just the same sense of duty that had hung over the entire day. you weren’t his bride by choice, and he wasn’t your husband by desire.

you bit back a bitter laugh. rest? as if you could simply close your eyes and pretend this was normal. pretend that this marriage was something other than a trap. “is that it, then?” you asked, your voice sharper than intended. “we go to bed and pretend everything is fine?”

heeseung turned to face you, his expression as unreadable as ever. he didn’t answer right away, as if weighing his response carefully. “what do you want me to say?” his tone was measured, but there was an edge to it, a hint of frustration that matched your own.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “this wasn’t supposed to happen. i wasn’t supposed to marry you.”

something flickered in heeseung’s eyes, though it disappeared as quickly as it came. he regarded you for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before he spoke again. “do you think i wanted this?” his words were quiet but laced with a bitterness that surprised you. “i didn’t ask for this any more than you did.”

you swallowed, feeling a lump rise in your throat. you hadn’t expected this admission from him, hadn’t expected him to show any vulnerability. “then what are we supposed to do?” your voice was softer now, the anger ebbing away, replaced by uncertainty. “how are we supposed to live like this?”

heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair, a rare moment of frustration breaking through his calm facade. “we do what’s expected of us,” he said, though there was a heaviness to his words, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “we fulfill our duties. that’s all we can do.”

“duties.” the word tasted bitter on your tongue. it had always come down to that, hadn’t it? duty to the crown, to the kingdom, to your family. and now, duty to heeseung.

the silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable. heeseung turned away, moving toward the window where the heavy drapes framed the view of the darkened palace gardens. his silhouette was stark against the faint glow of moonlight, his posture stiff, almost defensive.

after a long moment, he spoke again, his voice softer this time. “i’ll sleep over there.” he gestured to the chaise near the window, a fine piece of furniture that now seemed woefully out of place in this awkward, tension-filled room. “you can have the bed.”

you blinked, surprised by his offer. it was the last thing you expected from him, but it was a relief nonetheless. “you don’t have to—”

“i’m not doing this for you,” he interrupted, his voice firm, but not unkind. “i just don’t want to make this any more difficult than it already is.”

with that, he moved toward the chaise, gathering a pillow and blanket from the wardrobe. his actions were efficient, almost mechanical, as if he had already resigned himself to this fate. he didn’t look at you as he arranged the blanket over the chaise.

you stood there, feeling a strange mix of emotions—relief, awkwardness, and something else, something heavier that you couldn’t quite place. this was your wedding night, but it was nothing like you had ever imagined. there was no closeness, no warmth—just two people bound together by obligation and circumstance.

finally, you moved toward the bed, the thick carpets muffling your steps. the soft fabric of your gown felt heavy as you climbed beneath the covers, though they provided no comfort. you lay there, staring up at the intricate canopy above, your mind racing. this bed, this room—none of it felt like yours.

heeseung settled on the chaise, his back to you, the distance between you both feeling vast despite the small room. the silence was oppressive, each second dragging on longer than the last. you wondered if he was as uneasy as you were, or if he had already steeled himself to this new reality.

for a long while, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room the faint rustling of fabric as you shifted beneath the covers. the weight of the day, of the vows, of your new title, pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe.

finally, you couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “heeseung,” you whispered, unsure if you even wanted him to respond.

he didn’t turn, but his voice was low and steady when he answered. “what?”

you hesitated, searching for the right words. “do you think... do you think this will ever get easier?”

there was a long pause before he responded, his voice quiet, almost resigned. “i don’t know.”

and with that, the conversation ended. heeseung remained silent, his back still turned to you, and you knew there was nothing more to say. you turned onto your side, pulling the blankets tighter around you, though they offered little warmth. the room felt too big, too empty, despite his presence.

eventually, exhaustion crept in, dulling the sharp edges of your thoughts. but even as sleep began to claim you, a cold, sinking feeling settled in your chest. this was your life now—bound to a man you barely knew, a man who had been your enemy for years, and yet, somehow, your husband.

and as you drifted off into uneasy sleep, the last thought that crossed your mind was how strange it felt to be lying just feet away from heeseung, yet feeling as though he was a world away.

the morning after the wedding dawned cold and gray, mirroring the lingering tension between you and heeseung. you woke up in the large, empty bed, the space next to you untouched, a stark reminder of the distance that had been established on your wedding night. the air in the room felt thick, suffocating, as if the very walls were pressing in on you, reminding you of your new reality.

as you sat up, the unfamiliarity of your surroundings only worsened the tightness in your chest. this was your new life. not just this bed, but this room, this palace—heeseung’s palace—and you would share it with a man who barely spoke to you, who looked at you with that same cold distance he had always shown.

you dressed quickly, your movements mechanical, trying not to think too much. the maids moved around you silently, well-trained and efficient, but you could feel their eyes on you. it was impossible to escape the fact that everyone knew. the entire kingdom knew the story—the princess who had run away, and her sister forced to take her place. the whispers would never stop.

when you finally made your way downstairs to the grand dining room, heeseung was already seated at the long table, a plate of food in front of him. he didn’t look up when you entered, simply continued cutting into his meal with precise, practised movements. you hesitated for a moment, then took your seat across from him.

the silence was unbearable.

you picked at your food, barely tasting it, glancing at heeseung from time to time. his expression was as unreadable as ever, his attention focused on the papers beside his plate—likely matters of the kingdom that required his attention. he was already immersed in his duties, the weight of his impending kingship pressing down on him just as heavily as your new role as his wife weighed on you.

finally, you couldn’t stand it any longer. “do you plan to ignore me for the rest of our lives?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

heeseung didn’t look up immediately, taking his time to finish his bite and set down his utensils with deliberate care. when he finally met your gaze, his expression was cool, detached. “i’m not ignoring you.”

you scoffed, unable to hide your frustration. “you’ve barely spoken to me since the wedding.”

he raised an eyebrow, his tone as calm as ever. “what would you like me to say?”

the question took you off guard. you hadn’t expected him to be so blunt. you opened your mouth, then closed it again, unsure of how to respond. what did you want him to say? that he regretted everything as much as you did? that he hated this arrangement, too? or perhaps you wanted him to acknowledge the years of bitterness between you, to admit that this marriage was a farce.

instead, you said, “we’re married now, heeseung. we have to live together. we can’t keep pretending the other doesn’t exist.”

his jaw tightened ever so slightly, but his voice remained calm. “i’m aware of that.”

you waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. the silence stretched on once again, thicker than before, suffocating in its awkwardness. you pushed your plate away, no longer interested in eating. “fine,” you muttered under your breath, standing abruptly. “i suppose i’ll just get used to it, then.”

you turned to leave, but his voice stopped you. “you don’t have to like this any more than i do, but we have responsibilities now.”

you paused, your back to him, your hands clenched at your sides. “responsibilities,” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. it seemed like that was all your life had ever been reduced to—duty, obligation, and responsibilities.

without another word, you left the dining room, the heavy doors closing behind you with a soft thud. you could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on you even more as you walked through the halls of the palace, each step echoing in the vast emptiness. you weren’t just trapped in this marriage—you were trapped in this life.

days passed, and though you and heeseung were forced to share the same space, your interactions remained minimal, stilted. in the mornings, you would find him already at the breakfast table, poring over documents and barely acknowledging your presence. he would spend his days attending council meetings and handling matters of state, leaving you to navigate the palace on your own, feeling more like a guest in your own home than its mistress.

at night, he would retire to the chambers late, often when you were already lying in bed, pretending to sleep. he would quietly take his place on the chaise near the window, far enough away to avoid any awkwardness, but close enough that his presence was a constant reminder of the divide between you.

it was during these nights that the loneliness settled in most heavily. the silence of the room, broken only by the occasional rustling of fabric or the soft crackle of the fireplace, was suffocating. you had grown accustomed to sleeping alone, but now, knowing heeseung was just a few feet away, the distance between you felt almost unbearable. there was an unspoken understanding that neither of you wanted to bridge the gap.

one evening, after yet another day of awkward meals and tense silences, you found yourself in the library, one of the few places in the palace where you felt at peace. the vast room was filled with shelves upon shelves of books, their spines worn and familiar. you had always loved to read, finding solace in the stories and histories of others when your own life felt too overwhelming.

you were seated by the window, the late afternoon sun casting a soft glow over the pages of your book, when the door creaked open. you looked up, surprised to see heeseung standing in the doorway. he paused for a moment, as if uncertain whether to enter or leave, his eyes scanning the room before they settled on you.

“may i join you?” he asked, his voice unusually soft.

you blinked, caught off guard by his request. this was the first time he had sought you out since the wedding, and the suddenness of it left you momentarily speechless. you nodded, unsure of what else to do. “of course.”

heeseung crossed the room, moving with his usual grace, and took a seat in the armchair opposite you. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet of the library enveloping you both. he seemed content to sit in silence, his gaze wandering to the bookshelves that lined the walls.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “this is... one of the quieter rooms.”

you raised an eyebrow, a small, incredulous smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “it’s a library, heeseung. of course it’s quiet.”

to your surprise, he chuckled softly, though it was a dry, humourless sound. “fair enough.”

silence fell again, but this time it wasn’t as suffocating. there was something almost... peaceful about it, the weight of your shared presence not as unbearable as it had been before. you watched him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how tired he looked. the weight of his responsibilities was evident in the slight furrow of his brow, the way his shoulders sagged ever so slightly.

after a while, you set your book down on your lap, deciding to break the silence. “it must be difficult,” you said quietly. “taking on so much.”

heeseung didn’t answer right away, his gaze still focused on the shelves, but eventually, he nodded. “it is.”

you hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, softer this time. “you don’t have to carry it all alone, you know.”

he turned to look at you then, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something softer than the cold indifference you had grown accustomed to.

“and what would you suggest?” he asked, his voice quiet but not unkind.

“i don’t know,” you admitted. “but we’re in this together, whether we like it or not.”

heeseung’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, and then he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement. it wasn’t much, but it was the first step—however small—toward something more than just forced cohabitation.

the shift in your relationship came faster than you expected. it started with a challenge—a reckless, unspoken dare that neither of you could resist.

it had been a clear, crisp day, the first after several weeks of rain. you were restless, tired of the palace walls and the constant burden of your new role. you had gone to the stables, hoping to take one of the horses out for a ride, needing to feel the wind in your hair and the ground beneath you. but when you arrived, heeseung was already there, adjusting the reins of his own horse.

you paused in the doorway, surprised to see him. “you ride?”

he glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “you sound surprised.”

“i am,” you admitted. “i’ve never seen you ride before.”

he chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

the challenge in his voice was unmistakable, and you couldn’t resist rising to it. “care to prove it?” you asked, moving toward your own horse.

heeseung’s smirk widened. “what do you have in mind?”

you mounted your horse swiftly, the thrill of the challenge already coursing through your veins. “a race.”

heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “you think you can beat me?”

“i know i can,” you shot back, turning your horse toward the open field beyond the stables.

without another word, you spurred your horse into motion, not waiting for his response. behind you, you heard heeseung’s laughter, low and rich, before the sound of hooves thundering against the ground told you he had accepted the challenge.

you raced through the fields, the wind whipping through your hair, the thrill of the chase making your heart race. heeseung was right behind you, and you could feel the tension building, the competitive edge between you sparking like fire. it was like being children again, challenging each other at every turn, pushing each other to the limit.

but this time, it was different. the stakes were higher, the tension thicker, and the way heeseung looked at you when he finally caught up to you sent a shiver down your spine.

when he finally pulled his horse beside yours, you were both breathless, your faces flushed with adrenaline. you glanced over at him, and the look in his eyes—intense, dark, heated—made your pulse quicken.

“not bad,” he said, his voice low, rough around the edges.

you smirked, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “you almost kept up.”

heeseung leaned in just slightly, his gaze locking with yours. “almost?” he murmured, his voice sending a jolt through you.

you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. the space between you was too close, the air charged with something you weren’t quite ready to name. his eyes lingered on your lips for just a moment too long, and you could feel the heat of his presence, the tension that had always existed between you now manifesting in a way that was far more dangerous.

before either of you could say anything, heeseung pulled back, his smirk returning as if nothing had happened. “we’ll call it a draw,” he said, though there was a teasing edge to his voice.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, shaking your head with a laugh. “you wish.”

but as you rode back to the palace, the tension between you remained, simmering beneath the surface. it was no longer the resentment of old enemies, but something far more complex, far more dangerous. and for the first time, you found yourself wondering what would happen if that tension ever boiled over.

later that night, the air was thick with the remnants of the day’s energy. you couldn’t sleep, your mind still racing from the ride and the way heeseung had looked at you—how close he had come, how your heart had nearly betrayed you in that moment of suspended anticipation.

you wandered the halls of the palace aimlessly, your footsteps soft against the marble floors. the palace at night was a different place, quiet and still, the shadows long and heavy. it felt like a place where secrets lingered in every corner, where the walls whispered of things that could never be said aloud.

as you passed by the study, you noticed the faint glow of light beneath the door. curiosity piqued, you pushed the door open just enough to peek inside. heeseung was there, seated at the desk, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. he was reading, his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly parted as he focused on the page in front of him.

you hesitated, but before you could turn away, he looked up, catching sight of you. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. then, without breaking eye contact, heeseung set the book aside.

“couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low, intimate in the quiet of the room.

you shook your head, stepping into the room. “no. you?”

heeseung’s gaze flicked over you, his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your skin heat under his scrutiny. “i’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone soft but laced with that same dangerous tension that had been building all day.

“about what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you moved closer, drawn to him in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

heeseung’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. “about you,” he said quietly. “about us.”

the weight of his words settled in the space between you, thick and intoxicating. about you. about us. it echoed in your mind, stirring something deep within you that you had tried to ignore for far too long. you weren’t sure if it was the late hour, the dim candlelight, or the fact that you had been dancing around each other for weeks now, but something inside you snapped.

your breath hitched as you looked at him, his eyes dark and full of something you couldn’t quite name. but it was there—undeniable, pulsing in the space between you. and now that it had been spoken into existence, you couldn’t unsee it.

“what about us?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. it wasn’t just curiosity anymore. it was a challenge.

heeseung’s gaze flicked to your lips, and the tension in the room intensified, coiling tighter and tighter until it felt like the air itself might shatter from the pressure. he stood slowly, his movements deliberate, and took a step toward you, closing the already-small distance between you.

“there’s always been something between us,” he said, his voice low, rough. his eyes never left yours, burning with intensity. “even when we hated each other.”

your heart was pounding now, so loud you were sure he could hear it. you wanted to deny it, to tell him that he was wrong, that it had always been pure hatred. but that would’ve been a lie. you knew it as well as he did—whatever had always been there between you, it had never been simple.

“and what is it now?” you asked, forcing yourself to meet his gaze even though every instinct told you to look away. to run.

heeseung took another step closer, his hand reaching up slowly, as though giving you the chance to pull away. but you didn’t. you couldn’t. his fingers brushed against your cheek, the touch so light it sent a shiver down your spine. his hand lingered there, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

“maybe we’ve been fighting the wrong battle,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender. the warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin, and you felt your pulse quicken.

your throat tightened. every word he said felt like a dangerous line, one that you were teetering on the edge of crossing. the tension between you had always been a fire—burning too hot, too fast. and now, it felt like it was about to consume you both.

heeseung’s thumb brushed over your bottom lip, and your breath caught in your throat. his touch was tentative, as though he wasn’t quite sure if this was real or if you would pull away at any moment.

but you didn’t.

instead, you took a step closer, closing the gap completely. the air between you was charged, thick with unspoken desire and the weight of all the years you had spent fighting against each other. your body was betraying you, leaning into him, drawn by a force you had denied for too long.

heeseung’s eyes darkened as he leaned in, his lips barely an inch from yours, the heat between you almost unbearable now. you could feel the tension in every muscle, the way his hand trembled slightly as it cupped your cheek, the way your own body was responding without your permission.

then, in a breathless moment that felt like it stretched on forever, he closed the distance.

his lips pressed against yours—soft at first, testing, as though he wasn’t sure you would let him. but the moment your lips met his, something ignited between you. the kiss deepened, filled with all the pent-up frustration and longing that had been building for so long. it was a clash of emotions—anger, desire, need—all colliding in that single moment.

you responded instantly, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. the kiss was rough, almost desperate, as though you were both trying to make up for years of missed chances in that single moment.

his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you gasped against his lips at the feeling of his body pressed so close to yours. the intensity of it was overwhelming, but you didn’t want it to stop. you didn’t want to think. you just wanted to feel.

but then, as quickly as it started, heeseung pulled back, his breathing ragged, his forehead resting against yours. his hands still gripped your waist, holding you in place as though he couldn’t quite let go yet.

“this isn’t... what i expected,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. his breath was warm against your skin, and his eyes searched yours, as though he was looking for an answer in your gaze.

you swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing, trying to make sense of what had just happened. “what did you expect?” you asked softly, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

heeseung’s grip on your waist tightened for a moment, his eyes darkening once again. “i didn’t expect you to feel this way.” his voice was low, almost a growl, filled with the same intensity that had been building between you all night.

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. you had no idea what to say, no idea how to explain the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside you. all you knew was that everything had changed in that kiss.

“i don’t know what i feel,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely audible in the heavy silence of the room.

heeseung’s lips twitched into a small, almost sad smile. “neither do i.” he stepped back, finally breaking the physical contact between you, and you immediately missed the warmth of his body against yours.

“but whatever this is... it’s dangerous,” he continued, his eyes locked on yours, as though warning you. “we’ve always been enemies. we don’t know how to be anything else.”

you felt a lump form in your throat at his words, because deep down, you knew he was right. but that didn’t stop the ache in your chest, the desire for something more—for the possibility of what could be.

“i don’t want to be your enemy anymore,” you said softly, the confession surprising even you.

heeseung’s eyes widened slightly at your words, his expression unreadable. for a moment, you thought he might say something—might admit that he didn’t want to be your enemy either. but then, he shook his head, the walls between you coming back up, brick by brick.

“this doesn’t change anything,” he said quietly, but the look in his eyes said otherwise.

and with that, he turned and left the room, leaving you standing there in the soft glow of candlelight, your heart pounding and your mind reeling from the kiss that had shifted the entire balance between you.

as the door closed softly behind him, you exhaled a shaky breath, your fingers brushing your lips where his had been moments before.

everything had changed.

the royal court was buzzing with tension, and for once, the tension wasn’t between you and heeseung. the kingdom was on edge, not from war or rebellion, but from something far more insidious—political manoeuvring. rival noble houses were plotting against heeseung’s rule, questioning his right to ascend to the throne, especially after the sudden marriage to you. the whispers had grown louder over the past few weeks, the courtiers’ gazes sharper, waiting for the first misstep.

you had known court life would be full of power plays and alliances, but this was different. it was personal. every snide comment, every hushed conversation behind closed doors, felt like an attack on your marriage, on your family’s legacy. and worst of all, it felt like an attack on you.

one afternoon, as you made your way through the palace corridors, you overheard a group of nobles—close to your family—voicing their displeasure over your sudden marriage to heeseung. it was the same old song—how your sister should have been the bride, how you were never meant for this role, how heeseung marrying you was a strategic disaster.

you felt your blood run cold, but you kept walking, your head held high. you had grown used to these remarks, but today, they stung deeper. not because they questioned your worth, but because they reflected the deep-seated insecurity you had always carried.

that night, you found yourself alone in the study, staring out the window at the darkening sky. the weight of the court’s judgement, the impossible standards, the constant comparisons to your sister—they were suffocating. and then there was heeseung, whose coldness had thawed just enough to show you glimpses of something deeper, something real. but he was still heeseung—your husband, your childhood rival, and now the man who held your future in his hands.

the door creaked open behind you, and you didn’t need to turn to know it was him. you had grown attuned to his presence, the way the air shifted whenever he entered a room.

“what’s wrong?” his voice was quieter than usual, but still carrying that edge of command. he always knew when something was off, as if he could sense the turmoil swirling inside you.

you didn’t answer immediately, your gaze fixed on the stars outside. “they’re saying we’re not suited for each other,” you murmured, finally turning to face him. “that i’m not fit to be queen. that you made a mistake.”

heeseung’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. he stepped closer, his eyes narrowing in that familiar way, but this time, it wasn’t directed at you.

“let them talk,” he said flatly. “they’re just waiting for us to fail.”

“and what if they’re right?” the words slipped out before you could stop them, the fear and doubt bubbling to the surface. “i was never meant to marry you. this isn’t the life i was prepared for.”

heeseung stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then, to your surprise, he closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“i didn’t choose you because you were an easy choice,” he said, his voice low but intense. “i chose you because you’re stronger than you realise.”

you blinked, taken aback by the conviction in his words. heeseung wasn’t one to offer praise lightly, and hearing it now, in this moment, felt more intimate than anything he had ever said to you before.

“there are plenty of people who want to see us fail,” he continued, his grip tightening slightly. “but they don’t matter. what matters is that we don’t give them the satisfaction. we fight together.”

the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time, you saw beyond the cold exterior he had always shown you. there was something deeper there, something raw and unspoken. a partnership.

but the closeness also brought something else—a heat that had always been there between you, simmering beneath the surface. his hands lingered on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing the bare skin just above your collarbone, and suddenly the room felt smaller, the air thicker.

“you think i’m strong?” you asked, your voice quieter now, tinged with something more vulnerable. something real.

heeseung’s gaze flicked down to your lips, just for a moment, before returning to your eyes. his voice was rough when he spoke, low and filled with an unspoken promise. “i’ve always known.”

the charged air between you was impossible to ignore now. his fingers slid from your shoulders to your arms, the touch sending a jolt of warmth through you. it wasn’t just the weight of responsibility pressing down on you—it was him, his closeness, the undeniable pull you had both been dancing around for weeks.

you could feel the tension in every inch of your body, your heart racing as heeseung’s hands rested on your waist, pulling you closer, but still leaving just enough space for doubt. he hesitated, as if waiting for you to push him away, to remind him of the enmity that had defined your relationship for so long.

but you didn’t. instead, you leaned into him, your hands tentatively reaching up to rest on his chest. the fabric of his shirt was soft under your fingers, but beneath it, you could feel the steady beat of his heart, as rapid as your own.

“maybe i’ve been wrong about you,” you whispered, your breath hitching as the tension between you reached a breaking point.

heeseung’s eyes darkened at your words, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “maybe you have,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. but there was something softer there too, something almost tender.

before you could talk yourself out of it, you closed the distance between you and kissed him.

the kiss was like nothing you had ever experienced—fierce, desperate, and full of the years of unresolved tension between you. it was as if all the walls you had built around yourselves were crumbling in an instant, leaving nothing but the raw, undeniable attraction that had always simmered beneath the surface.

heeseung responded instantly, his hands tightening on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. his lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

it was overwhelming, the intensity of the moment, the way your bodies seemed to fit perfectly together, the way every touch sent a shockwave of desire coursing through you. you had spent so long fighting him, fighting this, and now, as his hands slid up your back, holding you close, you wondered why you had ever resisted.

when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. heeseung’s grip on your waist didn’t loosen, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat as wild as your own.

“we can’t keep pretending,” you whispered, your voice shaky, your lips still tingling from the kiss.

heeseung’s eyes met yours, the vulnerability and uncertainty in his gaze mirroring your own. “no, we can’t,” he agreed, his voice rough with emotion.

for a moment, the world hung in the balance. you had crossed a line, and there was no going back. everything between you had shifted, and the question now wasn’t whether you would move forward—it was how.

heeseung’s thumb brushed gently against your cheek, his touch so tender it nearly broke you. “we’re in this together,” he said softly, the weight of his words heavy with meaning.

this time, there was no need to say anything more. you both understood what had changed between you, even if neither of you was ready to fully admit it. and though the path ahead was uncertain, you knew one thing for sure: you weren’t facing it alone anymore.

weeks passed, and with each passing day, things between you and heeseung slowly shifted. the cold, sharp walls that had once kept you apart were crumbling, revealing a warmth and understanding that neither of you had anticipated. where there had once been biting words and icy glares, there was now laughter, quiet conversations, and small gestures of affection.

the palace felt different. it was lighter now, with the growing sense of partnership between you and heeseung. your bickering had been replaced with genuine care, and though the wounds of the past hadn't fully healed, you were both learning to forgive. but it wasn’t just the emotional connection that was shifting—there was something deeper brewing beneath the surface. unspoken feelings, simmering tension.

it wasn’t until a grand banquet in honour of a visiting prince from a neighbouring kingdom that these feelings came to a head. you stood at the centre of the ballroom, dressed in a gown that glimmered under the candlelight. it hugged your figure perfectly, catching the attention of more than just heeseung. the prince—prince seojun—had been particularly charming throughout the evening, his eyes lingering on you a little too long, his compliments a little too bold.

“you are by far the most captivating presence in this room, your highness,” seojun murmured, his voice low as he leaned in slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “if i had known such beauty awaited me here, i would have visited sooner.”

you laughed politely, glancing over your shoulder, searching for heeseung in the crowd. he was across the room, deep in conversation with some nobles, but even from the distance, you could feel his gaze on you, sharp and intense.

seojun continued, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as he leaned closer. “perhaps we could steal a moment away from the crowd? i would love to know more about the woman behind such an enchanting smile.”

before you could respond, a sudden shift in the air caught your attention. heeseung appeared at your side, his posture tense, his expression a mix of barely contained irritation and something else—something more possessive.

“princess,” heeseung’s voice was smooth, but there was a dangerous edge to it. his hand slid around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side. the claim was unmistakable. “i believe your dance card is full for the evening.”

seojun’s smirk faltered slightly as he glanced between the two of you, sensing the tension. heeseung’s eyes never left the prince, cold and unyielding.

“of course,” seojun replied, raising his hands in mock surrender. “i wouldn’t dream of overstepping. after all,” his gaze flickered to you, then back to heeseung, “she’s your wife.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, charged with unspoken meaning. seojun bowed slightly, a smirk still playing on his lips, before taking his leave. but even as he walked away, you could feel the lingering weight of his gaze.

you turned to heeseung, about to make a light-hearted remark about the interaction, but the look on his face stopped you. his eyes were dark, his jaw clenched, and his grip on your waist was firm—almost possessive.

“did he touch you?” heeseung asked, his voice low and tight.

you raised an eyebrow, surprised by his tone. “barely,” you replied, trying to play it off with a soft laugh. “why? are you jealous?”

his eyes flickered with something dangerous as he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “you’re my wife. i don’t like other men thinking they can take what’s mine.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words. the possessiveness in his tone, the way his body pressed protectively against yours—it was unlike anything you had ever experienced with heeseung. you had always seen him as cold, distant, but this... this was different. there was fire in his eyes, and you could feel it burning between you, a tension that neither of you had acknowledged until now.

“and what if i enjoy a little attention now and then?” you teased, testing the boundaries, wanting to see how far he would go.

heeseung’s eyes darkened even more, and in one swift motion, he pulled you even closer, his hand cupping the back of your neck as he leaned in, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “i don’t care how many men look at you, but remember this—” his voice dropped, sending shivers down your spine, “you belong to me and i belong to you.”

a thrill ran through you at his words, and for a moment, you were speechless, your mind spinning from the intensity of his claim. the ballroom, the crowd, even prince seojun—all of it faded away as heeseung’s gaze held you captive. you could feel the heat of his body against yours, the possessiveness in his touch, and for the first time, you realised that this wasn’t just some marriage of convenience anymore.

heeseung cared—more than he was willing to admit.

your breath hitched as you looked up at him, your eyes searching his, trying to read the emotions flickering behind them. “and what about you, heeseung?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “do you want me to be yours?”

his eyes softened for just a moment, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he leaned in, his lips brushing lightly against your temple. “you already are,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “and i’m not letting you forget it.”

the banquet had left the air between you and heeseung charged with an intensity that neither of you could ignore. his possessiveness, the fierce look in his eyes when he claimed you as his wife in front of prince seojun, had stirred something inside you—something that had been simmering for far too long.

as the last of the guests departed and the palace quieted down for the night, the tension remained, lingering like an unspoken promise. heeseung walked beside you in silence as you both made your way through the dimly lit corridors toward your chambers. though no words passed between you, the air was thick with anticipation, the unspoken pull between you stronger than ever.

when you reached your shared chambers, heeseung opened the door for you, his gaze never leaving you as you stepped inside. you could feel his eyes on you, burning with a need that matched your own. the soft glow of the candlelight cast long shadows across the room, but all you could focus on was the man standing behind you, his presence overwhelming.

you moved toward the vanity, fingers trembling slightly as you began to remove your jewellery. you were acutely aware of heeseung standing behind you, the weight of his gaze almost tangible as he watched your every movement. his silence spoke volumes, filled with desire and unspoken emotions that neither of you had fully confronted until now.

the tension was unbearable. finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, you glanced at him through the reflection in the mirror, your voice soft but steady. “you’ve been quiet,” you murmured, meeting his intense gaze. “what’s on your mind?”

he didn’t answer immediately. instead, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush against the bare skin of your shoulder. the touch was light, tentative, but it sent a shiver down your spine. his fingers lingered, tracing the delicate curve of your shoulder before he leaned in, his breath warm against your neck.

“i didn’t like how he looked at you,” heeseung finally admitted, his voice low and rough with suppressed emotion. his eyes met yours in the mirror, dark with jealousy and something more—something deeper. “or the way he made you laugh.”

your heart raced at the possessiveness in his tone. you turned to face him, taking in the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes blazed with something primal. his emotions were raw, laid bare before you in a way that heeseung had never allowed himself to show before.

“it was harmless,” you replied, stepping closer to him, your voice softening. “but i can’t say i minded the way you stepped in.”

his gaze darkened, his hand moving to your waist, pulling you flush against him. you could feel the heat of his body seeping into yours, the hard lines of his frame pressing against your softness. his eyes locked onto yours, filled with unspoken desire, but also with something more—something tender.

“i’m not the kind of man who likes to share,” he said, his voice a low growl as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. “especially not when it comes to you.”

your breath hitched at his words, your pulse quickening as the fire between you flared even hotter. you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you at his possessive tone, the way his hands gripped you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

“and what are you going to do about it?” you whispered, your voice daring, testing the boundaries as your lips brushed his, teasingly close but not quite touching.

heeseung’s response was immediate. his lips crashed against yours, fierce and hungry, as if he had been holding back for far too long. the kiss was searing, filled with all the emotions you had both kept hidden. his hands roamed over your body, possessive yet tender, as though he was staking his claim but also worshipping every inch of you.

you responded just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, needing to feel every part of him against you. the tension between you, the unspoken desire, it all poured out in that kiss, in the way his body pressed against yours with a need that matched your own.

heeseung’s hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you toward the bed. the air between you was electric, charged with desire and the intensity of emotions that neither of you had allowed to surface until now. he laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze dark and filled with a hunger that made your heart race.

for a moment, he paused, his fingers brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of what had just passed between you. his eyes softened, and for the first time, you saw the vulnerability behind them—the raw emotion that he had been hiding behind his cold exterior for so long.

“are you sure?” he asked, his voice husky but laced with care, as if he was giving you one last chance to pull away, to stop this before it went too far.

you gazed up at him, your heart swelling with the overwhelming emotions coursing through you. heeseung, the man you had once considered your rival, your enemy, was now looking at you with a tenderness that took your breath away. you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumb brushing softly over his cheek.

“i’m sure,” you whispered, pulling him down into another kiss, softer this time, but no less filled with the emotions swirling between you.

what followed was slow, deliberate, and filled with a tenderness that you had never expected from heeseung. his hands moved over your body with care, as though he was savouring every touch, every breath. the fierceness from earlier softened into something more intimate, more meaningful, as he explored you with reverence, his lips following the path of his hands.

your name fell from his lips like a prayer, whispered against your skin in the quiet moments between kisses. heeseung’s touch was both possessive and gentle, as though he was claiming you but also offering himself to you in return. the intensity of the moment was overwhelming, but it was the tenderness in his gaze, the softness of his touch, that made your heart ache with something deeper than mere desire.

and as the night stretched on, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony, you realised that this wasn’t just about passion—it was about the connection you had been fighting against for so long. the rivalry, the bickering, the walls you had both built between you—it all crumbled away, leaving only the raw truth of what you felt for one another.

when it was over, you lay beside each other, your breathing heavy, your bodies tangled in the sheets. the room was quiet now, the only sound was the soft rustle of the fabric and the faint crackle of the dying fire in the hearth.

heeseung turned to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. his eyes, once so cold and guarded, were warm now, filled with an emotion that made your heart skip a beat. he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against his chest as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. it was comforting, grounding you in the quiet aftermath of everything that had just passed between you. his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, soothing and gentle, as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

neither of you spoke, but words weren’t necessary. the silence was filled with a sense of peace, of contentment that neither of you had known before. heeseung’s touch was soft now, filled with care as he held you close, his body warm and protective against yours.

and in that quiet, intimate moment, you realised something: this was more than just passion, more than just desire. it was something real, something lasting.

heeseung’s hand continued to trace gentle patterns on your back, his lips brushing your temple as he whispered softly, “are you alright?”

you smiled against his chest, your heart swelling with warmth at the tenderness in his voice. “more than alright,” you murmured, snuggling closer to him.

heeseung let out a soft sigh, his arms tightening around you as if he never wanted to let go. and as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, the weight of the past finally lifted, leaving only the warmth of the present and the promise of a future you were both ready to embrace.

the next morning, you woke to find heeseung already up, standing by the window of your shared chambers, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the early morning light. he looked deep in thought, his expression pensive as he gazed out over the kingdom.

quietly, you approached him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. he stiffened for a moment at the contact but quickly relaxed, his hands covering yours as he let out a soft sigh.

“you’re up early,” you murmured, resting your cheek against his back.

“i couldn’t sleep,” he replied, his voice thoughtful. “i was thinking about everything that’s changed.”

you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “a lot has changed, hasn’t it?”

heeseung turned in your arms, his expression soft as he looked down at you. “i never thought this would work,” he admitted, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “but i’m glad i was wrong.”

you gazed up at him, your heart swelling with warmth. the man standing before you was the same heeseung you had known all your life, but now, you saw him for who he truly was—not your enemy, not your rival, but your partner. your husband.

“i’m glad too,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips.

and in that moment, you knew that this was your new beginning. the past, with all its bitterness and tension, was behind you. what lay ahead was a future you hadn’t expected but one you were ready to embrace—together.

as heeseung pulled you into a gentle kiss, the warmth of the morning sun streaming through the window, you knew that this was the start of something beautiful. your marriage, once forged out of obligation and resentment, had grown into something real, something lasting.

and as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you realised that sometimes, the best love stories were the ones you never saw coming.

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taglist: @punchbug9-blog @firstclassjaylee @capri-cuntz @addictedtohobi @jaysfavoritegirl

[packsvlog]

☕️⌇ ◜ OFFICE HOURS ◞ ⠀⠀⠀

╰⠀boss!nanami x secretary!reader where . . . nanami kento can’t let people know the reality that he, under no circumstances, belongs to them. in fact, is quite the contrarie. everyone in this job is a puppet willingly letting him pull the strings. you more than anyone. after committing the bizarre mistake of telling nanami your true intentions with him, your boss is more than eager to comply your desires and just maybe, forget he first input of no belongings.

cw. too much swearing, fingering with others present (not caught), fem!reader, reader keeps daydreaming w. nanami, slightly age gap but non-important all legal, public sex, overstimulation, they both keep failing to hide, possessiveness, love bites, he slap her thigh once, bit of blood because of self lip biting 4.9k words, english is not my first language.

an. hi, hello, i want everyone to know i’m this man wife. this is, in fact, our love story, i used to serve his coffee, now i’m serving my puss— anyways, enjoy it. FYI nanami smells like either tom ford tobacco vanille or byredo bibliothèque.

There are certain events in the workplace ── a sequence, if you may ── that serves as a warning to everyone that Mr. Nanami Kento has arrived.

Not many months ago, you were clueless to the symphony of presentation he had, even before stepping into the room. Now, though, it’s engraved in your mind. Much like he is. It is, also, a dirty secret to have that you eagerly wait for it, everyday.

Halting the tack-tack of your fingers on the keyboard, your ears pick the first signal ── rushed footsteps. All opening space so he can pass without the need to raise his eyes, hidden by sunglasses, from his cellphone. The second is the whispers and swooning. Some, more brave than others, compliment him out loud. Always about his peculiar ties, and always he smiles back. Lastly, when Nanami is in your sight of view, he is accompanied by his signature scent that greets you before he even does.

The most raw way to describe his smell is by saying that you wish you could crack him open, and lay inside of him forever. It’s comfortable and addicting and it makes you want to kiss him until it can permanently fixates on you.

In more proper synonyms, Nanami Kento smells like caramel, wood and a bit smokey. He is hot to the touch, one can admit. You don’t fall far from these thoughts, but sometimes, when you are not eye-fucking your boss, you think he smells like a cozy cabin in the woods.

Perfect place to fuck him, though.

Is easy to imagine such a thing. You can picture him with thick sweat covering his body, like a second layer, as he comes inside with a hatchet and wood for the fireplace. And you can, also easily, imagine yourself on your knees sucking him so good, as way to thank him for keeping you warm.

It’s a Kento effect. Everywhere he passes, people tend to have a heat stroke. You are no better than the others. Probably worse. He, however, does not need to know that. Nanami’s plate is already filled to the brims with people gazing him as a snack, he doesn’t need his personal assistant to do the same.

Not in front of him, anyways.

So, when he comes near your table, and stop to take whatever you have for him (work related, honey, even when you wish it was your pussy), you present the calls he need to answer with a compliment for his shoes and a black coffee with pretzels.

He adores you.

You want to fuck him senseless.

A perfect imperfect balance of clashing feelings. His are professional, yours are not even close. He only steps over the boundaries when it’s to call you “Darling” and you only do so in your head, when you think of laying on his table and letting him feast on your dripping cunt.

He is gentle and caring.

You wouldn’t mind chanting his name loud enough for everyone to understand what’s happening.

He departs ways and you share a trembling sigh with your inner turmoil of emotions. He makes you have a constant fever. In fact, with him, everything is constant. You want to fuck him everyday, you touch yourself with his voice in your mind guiding you. He gets pretty out of character in your alone mind, though.

Real Nanami is a sweetheart. Your Nanami would make you cry while on his cock.

“── and the meeting room needs to be ready by eleven, you can do all that, darling?” He asks. He asks! He is talking with you.

“I, uh, I’m sorry, Mr. Kento,” You stutter before shifting your attention from your computer screen to his charming understandable smile. “could you repeat, please?”

“Sure, darling.”

You need to put extra neurons to work when eyeing his pink lips moving gracefully. Is it the same shade as his cock? Oh, you hoped so. That would be your favorite color, would paint your nails, your hair, anything.

“Got it now?” Nanami curls his lips as he question you. You can’t lie to him, so you sign that No, you did not payed attention. He chuckles and comes closer, resting both hands in fist on your table, letting himself down so he can be face to face with you. “I need you to order mine, yours and the lunch for the usual gentleman I talk about the finances, ── you have that noted, right?” You nod, and he proceeds. “Then, I want you to decorate the meeting room, the way you always do.” You nod again, and he moves back. You want to whine. “Good girl.”

Pause.

That’s new. It’s like achieving a new item in a game. A new level. That’s a prize, the greatest form of enlightenment one could have. You feel warm in your chest and cheeks, but dare not to sway your eyes from his twinkling ones. You wonder if he knows what you are thinking, or if he knows the power he has over you ── over everyone.

That’s Nanami Kento. The man with a dazzling aura, it touches all in proximity, no one survives him. If he wants, you are his. Hooked like a worm, willingly ready to be devoured by a fish, and the thing is no one knows if Nanami is said fish or the fisherman.

The secret about his success is not only the sweet talk he does, but the way he can easily take it away. And no one wants to be away from his warmth. You’ve seen it before, how he controls people ── some more powerful than your mind can comprehend, they all are puppets for him to pull the strings. He touches and praises them when they do what he wants, but Nanami grows cold and absent when they don’t.

Everyone wants to be loved by him, so everything this enterprise does, it revolves around Nanami.

He can be a scary man when he wants, and you’ve heard the tales, from time to time. With you, fortunately, he is just your nice boss. And a part of you wish he would cradle you into his arms and play with you like a marionete. His doll. Yeah, you want to be his fucking doll.

Tempted to ruin this lunch and be ravished by his famine, you shake your deranged thoughts and focus on ordering the food. Also asking for red velvet cookies for you and Mr. Gojo, the owner of this whole enterprise.

A cocky young man, that likes to devour your physique whenever you come inside the room. He is rich and beautiful and his name is always on the newspaper with gossip mostly involved. You could fall for him, could fuck him, but he is not Nanami.

He doesn’t boss you around gently, nor he makes you crave his scent on lonely nights. He makes you shy, but not timid and horny. In fact, you don’t even think about Satoru Gojo unless you are balancing his persona with Nanami’s. That’s sad for him.

You keep doing that ── the thoughts, the sexual dreams ── while preparing the meeting room with a charming decoration. Black glasses, black plates, all with golden details. Satoru Gojo himself payed for it, not that he knows or care. You commented once, Nanami liked, and moved his toys in favor of buying the expensive kitchen utensils you wanted. He even made sure to get some for your own house.

The last part is closing the thick black curtains around the room, for privacy. Someone comes inside the second you step back from the last tapestry, and when you turn, Nanami is there.

“How’s everything?” His fingers press on the table, moving swiftly with him, closer to you. “You’ve got cookies?” There is amusement in his question.

“Mr. Gojo’s secretary, Suguru, told me he was craving something sweet.” You turn back to the table behind you, stacking the sweet in a small mountain. “He always gets fussy if he doesn’t get his daily large intake of sugar.”

You grabbed one, knowing that half of it was rightfully yours, and twisted on your heels. Nanami scared you in two sequential situations after that. The first being his looming presence right in front of you, piercing gaze on you, shifting between your eyes. He was searching for something in it, so, you tried the hardest you could to give him something back. Eyes that said “please, fuck me.”

Maybe it worked. The next thing he did, that scared you, was bending down and biting your cookie. Eyes never leaving yours. You gulped, he smirked.

“Please, fuck me.”

He chocked.

See, your eyes were supposed to be the one speaking for you, but Nanami also has this super power that no one can lie to him. He wants something, he gets it delivered in a silver plate. He knows everyone’s secret, and yours were never safe, just happened to be hidden in a line of things that weren’t priority for him. Not until now, at least. He wanted to know what you were hiding, and you gave it to him.

“I ──” The words are struck behind your teeth. Nanami eagerly waits for them. “I’m so sorry.”

And with that, you leave him.

In a perfect world, he would have grabbed you by the wrists and fucked you against Satoru’s side of the table. But it’s not, because he lets you go. He has to let you go, even if you know that’s not the end of it. He will get you later, and like a little kid in science class, he will dissect everything you said. Therefore, during the thirty minutes of freedom you are granted in the bathroom, before the meeting starts, you try and fail and try and fail to conceal your thoughts into a perfect lie.

It doesn’t work. Not even a bit. Because Nanami knows you like the back of his hand, as much as he knows everyone that works with him. He knows when you lie and when you are truthful, and thanks to that, your work relationship had always been good ── you’ve never lied to him to stroke his ego. You were too busy wanting to stroke something else. Nanami let you slide your nasty comments about others, and he would share them, granting you some of their secrets.

He was a gossiper. He knew everything. You knew right there that lying would never work with him, so you just avoided to let him reach that horny part of yours that burned for him. Give him something else to sink his attention into. Your neck, you wanted, but rather you would feed him with gossips from your college classes, or what you got from Suguru Geto, your friend and Satoru’s assistant.

Now, you had already run out of distractions. Maybe that was his plan all along. If the world is correct, and it all falls down to Nanami’s desires, then maybe he was just waiting for you to crumble and admit. You had never been subtle with your eyes, anyway. That’s why he had been so fascinated about it, staring from time to time, trying to catch a glimpse of your true self, like a wishing star in a starry night.

The stars have gone dark, burned and busted away, when you come back to the meeting room and sit down on your designed chair, by his side. Nanami is focusing at you, again, like he needs more of your secrets at this moment. You have never gave him something so largue before, he is addicted.

But you, stubborn, appalled, stoic and all, think your plate of pasta is the most interesting thing in this whole world. You don’t eat much, because your throat is filled with all the words and screams you want to let out. You fear if you so much breathe loud, it will all come flooding this room.

“Are you annotating all of this in your head?” Nanami whispers in your ear, referring to the meeting now in progress. You sign no, and he sighs. “Your mind is far away, today.”

“Sorry.”

“What should I do with you?”

Someone coughs. An old man, standing by the edge of the table. He wants Nanami’s eyes on him, the praise, the goodness. Kento grants him half a smile, and that is not enough. Never will be. Everyone always wants more.

The lights are turned off when the projector is brought by Suguru, he comes and goes quickly, not before stealing a cookie from Satoru. That’s the first smile you present since the incident, and Nanami is back at staring at you with an intensity your heart fears but your pussy drips for. Are you scared? Petrified. And still, you are fucking horny.

He knows your secret, he is devoting his eyes to you, no matter what anyone else wants. He, in this moment, wants you. It might be because he needs to know what you meant, it might be because you are stroking his ego, finally. Or, you dare wonder, he is debating throwing you on that table and fucking you. Old men and Satoru aside, you wouldn’t mind. At all.

You take courage to look at him, and instantly you stare at his lips first, before his eyes. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. You go back at eyeing the projector. He does the same a long beat later. An even longer one, he slowly puts his hand on your exposed thigh, skirt raised since you set down.

You try to not fail in your stoic face, but you do so anyway. Because, for fuck’s sake, Nanami Kento has his hands on your thigh, his thumb in circular movements. Your lips instinctively curl up, he snorts by your side before going back to his serious demeanor.

You thought he would just keep his hands there, as if testing the water but deciding to stay near the shore. That’s not his case, though. Nanami loves to go to the beach, to swim far away beyond the waves, he likes to get damped. His hand move closer, and you open your legs absentmindedly. He wants, you give. As much as you have wanted, and now he is giving you.

When his hands are pressing against your lacy underwear, you hear a little “Fuck” coming from his mouth. You’re soaking wet.

It’s hard to keep your breathing pattern steady when he is near you. Even more harder when he has one finger slowly penetrating you. For the outsider viewer, everything is normal, and the two of you are just concentrated on the projector screen. The truth is you have no idea what’s going on, and maybe neither does him. You want to moan, and tug his hair until he groans. And you want him to replace his finger with his cock. You stare at the annotation book, empty of your handwriting, and use the opportunity of your head down to hang your mouth open and close your eyes.

Nanami shifts his eyes to you, and he drowns himself into your fucked gaze, even more so when he puts another finger. He can’t linger much, or others will notice, so he decides to keep his movements fluid and calm, and to stare at you from time to time.

He can multitask. Of-fucking-course. He asks questions, answers, he acts as if he is one hundred percent into whatever is going on. The reality is different. The truth is all about his curling fingers pressing themselves in a place inside you that will forever mark his presence there. Like a secret plaything only for him, no one, not even you, will ever reach that. It’s like he is signing it with either his name only or a “Nanami was here.”

You want him to stay, forever. Stay inside you, slow pacing, curling, sensitive.

He can’t, because what feels like hours later, turns into minutes. Everyone is raising up to leave, and he moves out of you so fast, you clench around nothing ── had you been quicker, grabbed his fingers, they all would know. You don’t give a fuck, you want them too know.

“Go to my office.” He whispers before going the opposite direction of the exit, and staying back to talk with the others. You walk without a goodbye, creating an excuse when Satoru wants some of your time.

Inside his office, you feel like breathing for the first time. It’s confusing, like your lungs are new and not fully connected to your esophagus, so it comes up weird ── in a mixture of laugh and relief, salted with a “what the actual fuck”.

You want to stop and think of what’s happening or what’s to happen, but you never had the chance. It’s a second later, and you are being pressed against his, now, locked door. His arms holding your hips, his head resting on your neck, sulking your scent much like you do with his.

“You meant it, right?” He asks, bringing his face up to yours. “You want me to fuck you. Please, darling, say you do, because I need to fuck you now, or I’ll go crazy.”

“Yes, please, please.” Midway through your desperate nod, Nanami lunged at you, catching your lips in his and conducting the rhythm, the strength.

He was so, so good. In all ways. His slow fingers had your legs shaking and his eager kiss has your mind fogged. All that he does seems to be professional, but you know deep down, this effect is all because is made by him. Just his presence alone could have you hot and bothered, but to actually be touched by him, it’s like adding the fire to your gasoline self.

You had always been meant to be burned by Nanami.

He hoist you up against the door, for a quick second his hands kept clawing your thighs, until he walked you both to his desk. He let you down on it, and at the same time, his kisses moved to your neck and shoulder. You could feel the scrape of his teeth, tempted to mark you with a significant bite ── tell them I’m yours, you thought.

He groaned against your flustered skin, because he knew he couldn’t do that. Mark you, that’s it. Fuck you? Oh, that he can, that he will do.

“I need you to be really quiet for me.” His hands are quick on his belt, dropping it with a thud against the floor. He raises your skirt to your waist, Nanami grumbled under his breath with the sight of your underwear. He had touched the elaborate details earlier, but to see it was another story. White, see through, a pink ribbon on the top. “I’m going to rip it.”

“No, you’re not!” Raising your leg, you pushed him away. Eyes still hypnotized by your clothed cunt. You removed the piece with a satisfied smirk. It had been months since you started to wear those type of under-wears, hoping one day this situation would come.

No one wants to fuck their sexy boss with granny’s pants.

The cold table coming in contact with your intimacy made you moan a bit, and Nanami’s attention was back on you. There you were, beautifully waiting for him. Fuck-me eyes, pleading mouth, hands gripping the edge of the desk. You were at his mercy, had been for a while now. And he? Well, Nanami was yours now, that’s what matter.

One of his fingers, the same one he had penetrated you earlier, came back inside you. Smearing itself with your wetness. His other hand gripped your hips, bringing you closer, and making him go deeper. There, right fucking there. He curled, and thrusted, and another two more out of nowhere.

Cruelty was not on the way he was ravishing your cunt, but the biting of your teeth on your hand. You have to be quiet, follow his orders, but Nanami seemed to want to make you scream. Let everyone know that he is fucking you. Nearly fucking you.

Combining this movements with the ones of earlier, you feel your insides getting tighter. He senses as well, and raises his peace once more. But, again, your legs push him away. Nanami doesn’t like that, he comes back quick, wet fingers anxious to reclaim their place inside you, but you sign no, and he halts. That’s it. The man that controls everyone, and he is at your mercy.

“I want to cum on your cock.” Maybe is the sweet and diabolical way you say, or the tilting of your head with a charming smile. What matters is, he complies right away. His pants fall, he takes off his blazer, and not a second later you are presented with what you’ve been craving for months.

Like a pregnant lady, you almost cry and fall on your knees, finally having your desire attended. He doesn’t want that either, instead Nanami takes a condom from his wallet. Before he puts it, his waiting fingers touch your cunt again, grabbing a bit of your liquid and smearing it on himself. You nearly ask him to throw the condom away.

Is a sinful sight. All of this. You on the desk, legs wide open. He in front of you, adjusting himself on the condom. Both groaning when he, fucking finally, align with your entrance, and slowly gets in. He is largue, and thick, and preparation might have been necessary had you not been daydreaming of this moments months ago.

Had he not been himself, that man that makes you drip with just a “good morning”, this might have hurt. Instead, it’s exhilarating to be parted by his cock. The condom does not stop you from feeling his veins tickling your walls, or his tip finally setting near your cervix. That was fucking new. Pleasant and scary, and fucking welcome as well.

“Say it again,” He asks, hands on both your hips and eyes looking over yours. Waiting for the stars to fall over the two of you. “tell me to fuck you.”

“Fuck m──” He doesn’t wait for you to end before he removes himself, and going back with a gushing sound. You nearly scream out of pleasure, but in the last second, you bite your lips strong enough to draw some blood. “Mmh, you fucking a-asshole.” He snorts at that, before slapping your thigh.

Seems that Nanami can do all the noises he wants. He groans against your skin, head hanging low to stare at the way you pussy suck his dick in and out. You have always been a good girl ── his good girl. Taking all the he gave you. Mostly work related, and now his cock. You truly were made just for him.

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” A moan scapes your hands, and he doesn’t bother spanking your leg again. He called you baby, and you’re strangling his dick perfectly. You can shout at this point, he is pussy fucked.

Removing your hands from your mouth, you decide to do something much better than guarding your pleasure. Instead, you open his button-up blue shirt. A dream come through, is what this day will be remembered as. Specially now, where he lets you do as you pleases, and you have the sight of his pecks ── bronzed from a beach trip he took last week, and glistening with sweat for your recent activities. You moaned again, before going for it, and marking him.

Nanami allowed you to do so. He only cared about holding your hips and raise your lower body, so he could make you meet his thrusts halfway. He didn’t hold a care in the world about his groaning getting louder, or the burning on his neck and chest caused by your eager mouth and teeth. Fuck that. Fuck everyone. The only thing he truly wanted was to be inside of you forever. To be planted in this moment of his life, on loop, being marked by you, having his cock milked out by your dripping cunt. That’s what his life was made for.

Nanami Kento had this aura that made everyone scramble for him and his left-overs, as a way to keep close. To say they have something that once was his. Because everyone knew that Nanami was no one’s property. This moment, this fuck, this pussy proved that statement to be contraire ── he was yours. From the first day he saw you and specially one hour ago, when he had eaten your cookie and you told him to fuck you. He knew right then that he would shift the whole balance of the world to give you what you want.

And if that’s his aching cock, fucking be it. It’s yours. You’re taking it so good, and barely paying attention to it. He keeps bruising your cervix, and you respond with little whimpers and more bites. He quicken his peace, you close your legs around his waist, as if giving him more opening.

A perfect synchrony.

“Wan’ to cum.” You mumble just right after he senses your wall get tight.

“C’mon, baby, ugh, cum f’me.”

“Mmh, fuck, ngha.”

You do right after, going limp on his arms, he slow his thrusting with a snort and laying you down on the desk. He shuffles something by your dazed-self side, before he brings a black sharpie near your cleavage. He kisses and licks and sucks on it, before opening the pen with his mouth, and signing a straight line.

“How many more can you give me, pretty?” You don’t answer in words, but with more quiet whimpers, when his thrusts go back to pounding you in a maniac pace. He holds your neck down, leaning to kiss you through your beautiful moans.

You’re sensitive, he knows. Because you keep closing more and more around his length, trying to make him cum, unknown to you that it only makes you closer to coming again. You hit your head on the desk when trying to follow his departed lips, Nanami has your neck again on his mouth, tasting your sweat and lotion, and all you can give him. It’s only when he bites it slightly, you release yourself once more.

“Mmph, fuck, fuck, argh.”

Nanami keeps jerking his hips onto yours, not even having cum once. He takes pleasure in yours, you can see. With a proud smirk, he grabs the sharpie once more, but this time, he makes a diagonal line that touches the top of the first.

“Mhm──!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, baby. Just a bit more.” He cooed at you, sweet tone diverging from his animalistic movements.

You’re not complaining, not even regretting. So you keep yourself down and let Nanami control both of yours fun. He is ruthless in his pace and fantastic with his kisses, he doesn’t mind your moaning anymore, or the fact that everyone on your floor already knows. What can they do? Stop you? Nanami will rip everyone apart and just return to your pussy. Threaten him? No one would dare. He is still their sweetheart, their most sacred prize, beautiful and shinning to look at. Never to have.

“I’m, ugh, I’m yours.” He grunts.

This time, you sense a shift in his thrusts. So methodical now sloppy, and his cock kept twitching inside of you, sending more waves of pleasure to your core. Yes, fucking finally, he was near.

“All fucking m──mine.” You agreed with his words, grabbing the back of his neck and slamming your lips together. “I’m yours, always had been.”

Nanami can’t even control himself anymore. He groans and pants as he releases himself inside you. With a mist of swearing and praises you could barely decipher. After all, his own release had triggered yours.

When you both had come back from the high, Nanami raised himself from your chest, and kissed you, tongues intertwining, teeth clashing and biting. When he parted, leaving you breathless, he had then pen in his hand again. It touched your skin, once more, connecting from the bottom of his last line, going up straight.

It’s a “N”.

“You think we can spell my name?” He asks, leaving your inside to throw his condom out. He opens a drawer, where a box with more is presented.

“That would be more 17 fucks.” You support your weight on your elbows while counting.

“It’s that a no?”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your throat, before beckoning him closer. He does right away, kissing you hungrily once more. As if he is trying to record forever the taste of your mouth. He has your hair in his fists, pushing it back so he can go back to your, now, heavily marked neck.

“Let’s see how far can we go.” You indulge into his crazy erotic idea.

Nanami smiles triumphantly. He removes himself from your body, but doesn’t put condoms, instead, he falls on his knees, diving straight for your pussy.

Hours later, the sun beginning to set on the horizon, you leave his locked office with a smug smirk and timid eyes. Both accompanied by messy hair, flushed cheeks, marked neck and… “Nana” written on your chest.

“We’ll finish this later.” He comes behind you, closing his shirt, but letting the top buttons opened enough to catch a glimpse of your love marks on his chest. Specially the one with “Mine” marked in it.

[finalgirllx]

thunderstorms

took some heavy liberties with week 3 of @thatdammchickennugget and i's jinxed july challenge to write the forced proximity mattheo riddle fic of my dreams. i hope you enjoy it just as much as i do. and also big thanks to @pizzaapeteer for proofing, i love you! 2.5k words | fluff? i think | f!reader implied

Snap. Another twig breaks underneath the tattered soles of your shoes while you continue the trek along the less-traveled grove. The air is thick with the scent of wildflowers and earth, and sunlight filters down on you through the leafy branches, casting shadows on the greenery that litters the forest floor. It is pristine, seemingly unaffected by too much human activity. 

That is until Mattheo and you embarked on an increasingly futile mission imposed by your one common interest - your mutual friend Enzo. He had eagerly insisted that it be the two of you that forage for an ingredient native to the area, claiming that adding it to a drink mix can get you wasted quicker than any brew sold in shops.

The pair of you had done well not to stumble too far from Enzo's parents' summer home. A generous invitation had been offered to your friend's group - a chance to relax and kick back there over the long weekend. A relatively secluded area, it is sparsely populated by second homes of the upper class or rickety cabins so old that not even magic can prevent them from slowly succumbing to the elements. Everyone tries to enjoy the spoils of the location's offerings, as it is a sweet spot to spend the few warmer months in Britain.

"Y'know, I am not an outdoorsy guy," Mattheo complains after another branch scrapes his forearm. "This is the dumbest mission Enzo could have sent us on."

"At least we can agree on one thing," you mutter exasperatedly. "I should have known you'd have no sense of your lefts and rights."

Two steps ahead of you, Mattheo pauses and looks back, his expression suggesting, 'You want to go there?' His brows raise, and his chocolate curls still fall perfectly over his forehead despite endless collisions with twigs and branches. Honestly, you were unsure if his looks or personality irked you more. You glare back so he knows exactly how you feel about the situation.

"Right, take no accountability for being one-half of why we are still out here," Mattheo responded in kind, then turning back to continue leading the way.

"You are rid-"

"Ridiculously handsome? I know. Come up with some new material, sweetheart," Mattheo interrupts with his unending cocky attitude. Preparing to unleash more insults, you are startled by the feeling of a cold drop on your head. Then another. And another.

A loud clap echoes above, booming in the sky, followed shortly by the rapid motion of overcast clouds moving in, blocking out any remaining sunlight. A second roar of thunder bursts, sending out another warning that a storm is fast approaching. The sudden singular drop quickly builds into a consistent shower, and the panic sets in over the both of you. Mattheo takes charge, gesturing for you to follow him and for once, you decide to take his lead without talking back, which might have been a mistake as you continue deeper into the forest and further away from the house.

Minutes felt like hours under the increasingly ceaseless downpour as you and Mattheo scrambled through the grove. Finally spotting an old cabin structure, you make a break for it and dash underneath the awning for some reprieve. Mattheo vigorously jiggles the knob of the dilapidated door, seeming to forget his wizarding abilities. Propelled by a clash of thunder, you watched Mattheo resort to brute force, managing to barrel through the door and get you two inside. 

Solely focused on escaping the pouring sky, you follow him in while heaving from the chaos.

"Nice going, genius," you admonished Mattheo while catching your breath. "Forget a first-year unlocking charm?"

"Ungrateful as ever," Mattheo responds gruffly, his amusement overshadowed by temporary exhaustion as he steps over and shuts the door that is barely held up on its hinges. "See? I got you out of the rain, and the door still works." 

The two of you take some time to shake yourselves off in a meager effort to eliminate that soaked feeling. Squeezing out your top,  you silently curse at the unpleasantness of your damp hair that now clings to your face. You looked over and watched Mattheo shaking his head, his hair splattering leftover water all over the vicinity.

"You're like a wet dog," you feign disgust, unable to resist a chance to tease.

"What else am I expected to do?" Mattheo countered, brushing his hands through his hair and hoping for the best.

"Be more tasteful with it," you suggested, suppressing a snort afterward at your own poor choice of words.

"Tasteful? You seriously went with tasteful?" Mattheo caught on, his disgruntled look from the uncomfortable wet transforming into a grin. "Bloody hell, sweetheart, I know you love my perfect curls, but that really is the least of my concerns." 

You coped by turning away to continue drying yourself off, hoping he did not see your disconcerted expression.

Once Mattheo reached a state of dampness he could live with, he stepped toward the intact windows to watch the storm outside. It was miraculous that a cabin as worse for wear as this one held its own against the onslaught.

"Well, we might be stuck here for some time. I suggest you get comfortable," Mattheo announced with a resigned sigh, glancing back to the room for potential spots to sit or, more accurately, the lack thereof. "The floor. The floor will do."

He follows through, eyeing spaces on the rickety floorboards to settle down. You roll your eyes at the idea, though the increasing weight of your legs after all that running starts to wear on you and beckon you down. So you give in, finding your own spot to settle, a perfectly reasonable distance from him. His eyes bore into you with an unreadable expression, a bit too analytical for your comfort. You are not too fond of him watching your every move. Not at all.

"Could you look elsewhere? I am not your prey to stalk," you finally snap. 

"What? This is just how I look at things. You cannot blame me; it is either you or the rotting walls," Mattheo retorts, emphasizing his point with a gesture of his hands.

"Your eyes are… they look too hard!" you complain amidst a struggle to find the right way to explain why his gaze ruffled you so much.

"Too hard? She thinks I look too hard, whatever the hell that means. Salazar, help us, a true wordsmith in the midst," Mattheo complained to himself, ensuring his frustration was loud enough to invite further squabbling.

"I am just saying! Look elsewhere!" you insisted.

"I can't help it. You are more interesting-looking," Mattheo justified through gritted teeth, his increasing annoyance evident.

"Interesting-looking? And you accuse me of being unable to talk today. Is that meant to be a compliment?"

"Tell me you would not have my head if I called you pretty, so interesting it is!" Mattheo growled in a harsh but earnest tone. He shook his head, jaw clenched to the point of discomfort over what he admitted. Just to add to the pettiness, he scooted to face even further away from your direction.

This development undoubtedly took you by surprise, silencing you momentarily in your conversation. You always had a comeback for Mattheo, but this was the first time you had absolutely no clue how to retaliate.

"Pretty?" you repeated, pushing aside your dignity to clarify you had heard correctly.

"Yes, pretty," Mattheo confirmed, his voice huskier than the bellowing moments prior. "Is that such a shock to you?"

It honestly did feel like a shock. In all the time you had known each other, the words you exchanged were cheeky at best and plain disrespectful at worst. A more tender way of describing you was not something you expected to come from Mattheo at all.

"It is. I thought I was just your favorite punching bag," you admitted. 

"Oh, please. Do you honestly believe I would answer you at all if I really could not stand you? Perhaps you are more dimwitted than I initially presumed."

"I just thought—"

"And given that I have seen you quite literally punch some poor bloke who truly bothered you, I assumed you fell into a similar train of thought, no?"

Hell, you hated it when he was right. Something about Mattheo kept you coming back for more in a way that couldn't simply be attributed to the proximity of your friend group. The feelings creeping up inside you now had less to do with being stuck in a cabin with him through a storm and more with how this predicament forced you to come to terms with how you truly felt. You visibly shifted where you sat as feelings you had no clue how to handle washed over you more intensely than the rain still pouring outside.

Mattheo rose again without warning and stalked around the cabin, this time on a mission.

"What are you doing?"

"A blanket, a towel. Something to warm you up," he replied, his attention fixed on his newfound goal, which was an insatiable need to help and protect you in your wetted state. 

"You do not have to! It will probably be full of mildew should you even find one," you protested through your sheer surprise at his kind gesture.

Initially written off as too damp to use, the fireplace centered on the cabin's back wall was suddenly vital to Mattheo's mission. Finally remembering that he was a wizard, Mattheo reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wand, and crouched in front of the fireplace.

"Incendio…" he spoke the incantation, causing a flame to spout from his wand toward the firewood on top of the grate, hoping they were not too far gone from the elements.

To your shared relief, a small fire came to life before your eyes, its glow brightening your dampened spirits which was soon followed by an embrace of its much-needed heat. 

"Yes!" Mattheo hissed excitedly, hurriedly gesturing you to come closer, and you did. The previous distance you had created no longer mattered, as you were now shoulder-to-shoulder with him for a chance to enjoy the warmth provided by the lit fireplace.

With the both of you too focused on warming up by the crackling flames and learning to ignore the blaring storm outside, peaceful silence hung in the air. A mutual respect arose between you as you ruminated over the afternoon's events.

You glanced at Mattheo, whose shoulder you were now definitely pressed against, and seized the opportunity to check him out shamelessly. He was right; that penetrative gaze remained even in his resting state. The light from the fire highlighted the warmth in his eyes that usually matched the dark of night, and his brown locks that had dried into bouncy coils perfectly suited his chiseled structure. The last remaining baby fat on his cheeks softened his enigmatic look, especially in more calm instances such as this. Few were treated to such a view of him, let alone have the capacity to appreciate it like you did. Wait - appreciating him? He seems to catch on simultaneously, the corners of his lips twitching in satisfaction over your turn to gaze.

"I am not your prey to stalk," he abruptly spoke up in a high-pitched, mocking tone to mimic your previous dramatics. You pushed your shoulder against him further as a hollow threat to get him to quit his teasing.

"You look too hardddd."

"Stopppp," you plead, pressing against him again, which causes him to turn to you finally. That stupid, intense gaze again was now much too close for comfort.

Mattheo scoops your hands into his larger, calloused ones, suddenly enclosing yours. He begins rubbing them, his touch creating a friction that warms your fingers, and despite your confusion, you don't immediately pull away.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to warm you up."

"It is still summer. They are not that cold, really…"

"Let me just have this excuse to hold your hands," Mattheo says hushedly, shutting down all of your protests. His touch is comforting, so you allow it.

"Forward this evening, are we?" you still can not resist asking with a raised brow.

"Maybe. But when else will we be trapped for a night like this?" Mattheo was right again, blasted. The bubbling chemistry was now utterly unavoidable, and this night was simply the catalyst for this new beginning.

Still, it was so recent that you likely would not change your behavior towards each other once you returned to your friends, who were probably worried sick about your whereabouts. The storm was still raging, so you just accepted that it would be easier to call it a night instead of waiting for it to pass or even worse; risking your safety by trudging through it. You silently agreed with Mattheo to let this evening run its natural course, showing your reciprocated feelings by allowing him to continue creating friction with your hands via a similar technique used to make a fire.

The rest of the evening went by uneventfully as you cozied up to each other, finding yourself leaning more into him as your lids grew heavier with tiredness.

Mattheo took on the role of a pillow, pressing his back to the floor and letting you lay against him, going as far as draping your leg over his and resting your head on his chest. The resistant part of you wanted to claim this was merely to survive the night, but Merlin, he was easy to sink into. No longer fighting the call of rest, your last conscious moment was the feeling of Mattheo pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before sleep took over.

—-------------

The chirping of birds and light rays seeping into the small windows of the cabin signaled it was time to wake up. You two had stayed wrapped up in each other for the night, which was probably the sole reason you felt at all rested.

The warm embrace of Mattheo kept you tucked cozily into his arms, providing a warmth that was now overwhelmingly hot in the morning summer heat. Suddenly, the chatter of approaching voices traveled around the hollowness of the cabin before the distinctive voice of Enzo called out. "It only took a dangerous thunderstorm to bring you two together," he remarked, a wicked grin matching his chirpy tone. You looked up to meet his gaze through the cracked window, which illuminated your intimate position with Mattheo. The cheeky disturbance startled Mattheo awake with a jump, groaning at the loud intrusion of his mates' voices.

You observed through squinted eyes as Mattheo and Enzo began quarreling. Amidst the light-hearted chaos, you heard snippets like 'It's not what it looks like!' and 'The ingredients search was a load of bollocks, wasn't it?' The goal to save face came second to your relief at rejoining your friends.

A ruse that had gotten way out of hand landed you in the last place you would have expected this morning, but the possibilities it offered left you nervous but hopeful. You watched a bit longer before stretching and getting up to join, armed with your own silly defenses over why you were caught in Mattheo's arms as the lot of you made your way back to the summer home.

[lupinmoonlight]

Hi! Could you write an alpha prof!remus x omega reader in heat. He gets her to his office after lessons to offer help and she agrees to spend the night( breeding kink)

Masterlist AO3

Alpha, please.

Summary - You are an omega about to experience her first heat. Professor Lupin offers to help and you end up getting railed in the Shrieking Shack (3,416 words).

Warnings - teacher/student relationship, omega verse, alpha!remus, omega!reader, breeding kink, unprotected sex, dubious consent because reader not very in control, age gap, my grammar (english is not my first language), not proof read.

Notes - Throwing this here and RUNNING AWAY. I am SO sorry for the delay, I was hit by a bus (jk lol i'm just burnt out). On a serious note, this was my first time ever writing something in the Omegaverse. Sorry if it sucks :( Thank you to everyone for your patience. I will eventually get to your request!

He noticed your scent before noticing you- a wave of pure, unadulterated omega scent that struck him like a physical blow, a visceral assault on his senses. The classroom, usually a blend of various scents, was now entirely dominated by this scent. Your scent, one of an omega on the cusp of her first heat yet blissfully unaware of it but one that Remus, an alpha, sensed with every fibre of his being. It was rich, sweet, intoxicating, awakening a primal need he had learned to control years ago. An almost uncontrollable need to own, to mark, to protect, to make his. 

As an alpha, the presence of an unclaimed omega, especially one as evidently oblivious to their own nature as you, was concerning. Why were you there without suppressants? How could you not know what was about to happen to you? It was dangerous. Both for you and for any other alpha around, yet there you were, looking as calm and serene as if it were just another day. 

You took a seat at the front of the class, your eyes glued to him. He was tall, commanding, exuding the authority and confidence of an alpha and you hated to admit how much it drew you in. Deep down, you were not interested in following the traditional roles of your status. You didn't want to submit to anyone. The thought alone filled you with dread...except right now. 

The class began and Remus found himself incapable of focusing on his carefully prepared lecture, distracted by the powerful need for something he didn't even allow himself to entertain. It was like all his senses were heightened. He could hear everything, feel everything. Too much. 

The lecture drew to a close, and you began to slowly pack up your belongings, your mind unconsciously reluctant to part from your professor. He made you feel so- 

"Y/N, may I have a word with you before you leave?" Remus asked. His voice was calm but it held an underlying urgency that he hoped you wouldn't notice. 

You looked up to him, your eyes wide and innocent, and in that moment, it felt like you would've done anything this man asked you. What was wrong with you? 

"Yes, Professor Lupin?"

He cleared his throat, attempting to appear casual. 

"Y/N, I... uh, I need to discuss something somewhat personal with you, and I apologize for the discomfort," he began. 

Your brows knitted in confusion, your posture tense. "Something personal, Professor?" 

He paused, gathering his thoughts, carefully selecting his next words. "I've noticed...that is, I've sensed...that you might be approaching a significant time that's inherent to your nature as an omega." 

Your expression shifted from confusion to embarrassment, unsure where he was going with this. "I- I'm not sure to understand, Professor... what do you mean?" 

Remus hesitated, his instincts as an alpha to protect and take charge clashing with his respect for you and your autonomy. "It seems that uh... you're about to experience your first heat, Y/N. It's a critical time for an omega, and it can be very dangerous if you're not prepared or aware." 

Your eyes widened, your embarrassment escalating into fear. "My first heat? But... I- I didn't know... I thought I had more time before... before that happened," you admitted shyly. 

Remus nodded, trying to appear comforting despite the turmoil raging within him. "It's unpredictable at times, especially the first one," he assured you. "It's imperative that you have a safe place and proper care during this period, especially considering that... well I assume, considering you haven't been on any suppressants." 

You looked away, uncomfortable. "No... no I haven't."

"That's okay. That's why I'm offering to help. I can provide a safe place for you, ensure that you have what you need to get through this safely. It's not ideal... but I cannot, in good conscience, let you face this alone." 

You suddenly wanted this very much, despite your habit of fighting your inner nature at every turn- no. You were not going to be a weak, vulnerable omega who needed an alpha to protect her. You could manage. You would manage. This was no big deal. 

"I can handle it myself, Professor," you said, trying to sound confident but failing pretty miserably. 

"I understand, but I assure you, my intentions are solely to offer protection and support. I wouldn't suggest this if there weren't a genuine need." 

At that moment, you weren't sure if he was just very good at being persuasive, or if your pathetic omega nature begged you to bend to his "protection". 

"Are you sure?" the question coming out more as a challenge. 

"Yes, I am. It's my responsibility as your professor and as an alpha to ensure you're safe," he affirmed. 

"O-okay, fine." 

"Just come to my quarters at the end of the day. I'll have everything prepared for you. We'll make sure you're as comfortable and safe as possible," he instructed and this time, his tone was firm, leaving no room for you to argue back. 

You simply nodded and made your way out of the classroom. The conversation had left you disoriented. Your lifelong determination to maintain independence and resist alpha authority was now clashing with an inexplicable trust in your professor. 

You had never expected your first heat to come so suddenly. You thought there would be signs to prepare you, like most other omegas. But no. It was just there. And what was more embarrassing was that it wasn't you who found out first. It was an alpha. And your professor, at that. 

You seriously considered not going to his quarters that night. Not because you were scared or didn't trust him, but just for the shame you felt. That shame, however, was quickly overshadowed by fear. You knew what could happen to unclaimed omegas who were in heat and who didn't take suppressants. Not all alphas were as kind as Remus. Some of them were vile predators ready to pounce on the first vulnerable omega they smelled. Somehow, you knew- rather inherently felt, that Remus wasn't like that. 

Swallowing your pride, you made your way to Professor Lupin's quarters, your stomach an absolute mess from the strange blend of anxiety and odd sense of security. 

Remus was already out by the door, a small bag in hand, a gentle smile, albeit somewhat anxious, expression gracing his face. 

"Thank you for coming, Y/N. I know this must be overwhelming," he said, trying to keep his voice soft and reassuring. 

You nodded, not sure you could trust your voice in that moment. 

He offered a small smile, then gestured for you to follow. "We're not staying here. I have a safer place in mind." 

You obeyed silently, following him through the corridors and then outside, the only sound being the small vials of potion clinking in the bag and the soft thumping of your feet on the wet grass. 

You had no idea where he was taking you, but it didn't matter. In that moment, you were quite literally trusting him with your life, and you hated that. 

Stopping before the Whomping Willow, Remus motioned for you to wait at a safe distance, and you watched in awe as he expertly pacified the violent tree, revealing a hidden entrance to an underground passage. 

Without questioning him, you proceeded in silence, making your way through some damp, sketchy tunnels. This was definitely not how you had expected to have your first heat and your need to be with him was growing stronger and stronger. In normal circumstances, you should have been scared, terrified even, following a grown alpha to Merlin-knows-where, but you actually were starting to feel desperate, aching for something you couldn't explain. 

You finally emerged into an old, creaking building, full of dust and looking like it was about to fall apart. Despite this, fresh blankets were laid out on the bed, candles provided a soft light, making it look somewhat comfortable. 

Remus carefully set down the bag of potions and turned to you, looking a bit sheepish. 

"It's not much, I know. But this place has been a refuge of sorts during my time here as a student... it's secluded, away from prying eyes and other... influences," he explained, deliberately vague about the deeper reasons. 

You looked around, taking in your surroundings. He was right, this wasn't much, but it was safe. "Thank you, Professor Lupin." 

"Please, call me Remus here," he insisted gently. "I'll let you settle down. I'll be just next door. If you need anything, just call for me."  

"Thank you, Remus." 

In the adjacent room. Remus sat rigidly, every muscle tensed, focusing on every breath, attempting to anchor himself to his resolve. He was battling his own nature, his instincts, usually so well-contained, were now threatening to overwhelm him, fuelled by your potent scent. It had been years since he'd felt such a primal pull, and he had never acted on it. So he sat, focusing on deep, steadying breaths. it was all he could do to maintain control. 

Meanwhile, you were beginning to experience the torturing onset of your heat. It was a violent assault of unfamiliar sensations, confusing, intense, leaving you feeling profoundly alone yet achingly in need of something- something, specifically Remus. The room felt too large, too empty, yet suffocating. 

Unable to bear the isolation and the escalating ache, you called out, your voice echoing a desperation you barely understood. "R-Remus... Remus, please... I don't know what's happening to me." 

Remus hesitated at the door, his hand clenched around the frame. "Y/N, I'm here. Tell me what you need," he encouraged.  

"I need... I need... I feel like i'm losing my mind. I need... I don't know," you stammered, your confusion and need radiating from you in a way that tugged relentlessly at Remus' instincts. 

He stepped just inside the room, his expression a mix of concern and fear- for you, for himself, for the line he was terrified of crossing. "I know, I know. I understand. It's your heat... and it's strong. But I brought something that might help," he said, retrieving a vial from the small bag he had brought. "Drink this; it should ease the symptoms." 

You took the vial with trembling hands and drank the potion, your eyes never leaving his as he sat cautiously at the edge of the bed. 

"Why is this happening to me like this? Shouldn't the potion work immediately?" you asked, panic evident in your tone. 

"It should, but... your heat seems to be very strong. Let's just wait for a moment. I'm here." 

"Remus... it's not working. Please, I need..." 

"I know what you need, Y/N. But I can't give it to you. We have to wait it out. It's going to be alright." 

This wasn't going to do. Being far from him was painful. Being close to him without getting what you needed what torture. You needed him in a way you had never needed anything else before. You needed him to consume you, to take you, to mark you, to breed you. 

"Alpha, please," you whispered without even meaning to. The moment the words left your lips, Remus froze, his heart racing as every fibre of his being, of his soul, responded to that word. It was spoken with such raw need that it resonated with the very essence of his being. His resolve shattered, not out of defeat, but out of an overwhelming need to fulfill his role as an alpha. 

Before you could react, you were flipped onto your stomach, the sound of a low growl reaching your ears. You were not even in control of your body anymore. Your instincts were controlling you, and you desperately raised your hips, presenting yourself to him in the most intimate way. 

The sight made Remus' blood travel south immediately. Already hard, he yanked down your trousers before unbuckling his own. You raised your hips higher, whining pathetically, desperate for him to take you. As he looked down at you, his cock throbbed with need and he knew then, there was no going back. 

"Please, alpha," you begged again, your voice trembling. "I need... I need you." 

"Fuck..." he growled, reaching down to position himself at your slick entrance. "I'm sorry," he started, his voice trembling, "this is the only way I know to help you." 

You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the pain and pleasure that would soon consume you. "Please," you whimpered, "I need this." 

With a grunt, Remus pushed himself into you, your bodies connecting in a way that was both deeply intimate and primal. You gasped at the intrusion, your body trembling as you felt him filling you. 

He felt you tighten and tense as you tried to accommodate his size, your body reacting instinctively. "Relax," he instructed, his voice a low rumble. "You need to relax. Let me take care of you." 

His words, the authority in his tone, something deep within you responded. You forced yourself to relax, even as you felt his girth stretch you. He hissed in pleasure as he felt you accommodate him, your tightness almost too much. 

"That's it, good girl," he rasped out, one hand coming to rest on your lower back to steady you. His hips snapped forward, burying himself fully within you. 

You moaned, your entire being blissfully consumed by the feeling of fullness. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, staying very still within you. 

You could only nod before another desperate plea escaped you. "Yes, alpha... please, more."

At that, he allowed his instincts to fully take over. His hands gripped your hips painfully, and he began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful. A part of him was urging him to be gentle, but the other part, the alpha, was screaming at him to take what was his, to claim, to mate, and it was too strong to resist. He needed to feel you beneath him, to lose himself in the pleasure of your connection. 

You clung to the sheets, your nails digging into the fabric as Remus continued to rut into you. Your body rocked with every thrust, and soon enough, the pain began to fade, replaced by a blissful warmth that spread through your body. He knew he was taking a risk. A huge risk. But he couldn't help himself. He needed you, and you needed him. 

"Fuck, Y/N," he grunted as he continued his relentless pace. He leaned over you, his chest against your back, your bodies moulding together as though they were made for each other. "You feel so good," he growled low in your ear, his voice deep, rasping, reflecting his unending hunger. 

Each of his movement was sharp, controlled yet desperate, a constant rhythm of push and pull and he delved deeper into you, the pulsing throb of him only heightening your pleasure. 

"Alpha... alpha, please... I- I'm going to-" you tried to say but your orgasm tore through you with such force that you lost your voice. Remus didn't slow down. If anything, feeling you clench around him only fuelled his punishing pace. 

"I'm going to knot you," he announced. "I'm going to fill you up. Mark you as mine," he continued breathlessly. "I want everyone to know you're mine, to see you swollen with my seed, to see you bear my mark." 

You whined, barely able to hold yourself up from under his weight, but you managed to keep your hips elevated, desperate to be filled, to be marked, to be owned. 

His movements became jerky, sporadic as the wave of his release began to crest, each thrust of his hips pushing you further down into the mattress. "Take it," he rasped, "take my knot," his voice a harsh whisper against the shell of your ear before his teeth latched onto the soft skin of your neck, imprinting his mark on you. 

You moaned at the mix of pain and pleasure as his hand traveled down your arm, tangling your fingers together and with a final, deep thrust, he surrendered to the pleasure, his body shuddering as he came inside you. His hips flush against yours, his body draped protectively over yours as he poured himself into you with abandon. Finally he stilled, grunting as he felt the knot at the base of his cock start to swell. 

The sensation was foreign, somewhat painful, and you tensed, almost instinctively trying to move away. 

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay," he tried to soothe, still panting from his intense climax. "Stay still for me. It'll subside soon, I promise." 

He remained on top of you for a while, the knot locking you together, securing a powerful and intimate bond between you. His fingers stroked your skin gently, before he carefully maneuvered you to your side, spooning you protectively as his knot was still deeply lodged within you. 

"I know, it's okay. I'm just making you more comfortable. I've got you," he soothed as you whimpered from the movements. 

You stayed like that, your bodies intimately connected, until the knot subsided enough for Remus to pull out. You whined at the sudden loss and the wet warmth spreading between your thigh. 

As he felt you relax into him, Remus gently kissed your temple before carefully disentangling himself from you. With a flick of his wand, the wet feeling between your legs disappeared and a blanket was draped over you. 

Turning to the potions bag, Remus retrieved a vial, his hands slightly trembling as he grasped the small bottle. 

"Y/N, can you sit up for me?" he asked gently, offering his hand to support you. 

With his help, you managed to move into a sitting position, your movements languid, utterly exhausted from what had just transpired. Remus handed you the potion, noticing your confused expression. 

"This is uh... it's just a precaution... to prevent any unwanted consequences," he explained, uncomfortable from the intimate implications of his words. 

Your cheeks flushed with a hint of color as you took the vial, your fingers brushing against his in the exchange. 

"Oh, I... thank you." 

"I know this looks like... perhaps I had planned for this to happen. But I promise, it is not the case. I simply keep this sort of supply for any students who may be in need." 

"I trust you, Remus. And this was bound to happen, one way or another... and I'm glad it was with you." 

"Well, I... erm. It's important to stay hydrated, especially after this. Here," he said, trying to change the subject. 

You laughed softly, accepting the water from him. He had this way of knowing exactly what you needed before you even knew yourself. You were actually thirsty, and the cool liquid helped soothe your parched throat. 

As you sipped your water, a sudden sharp pain caused you to reach for your neck, your fingers brushing against a fresh, deep red mark. You looked at Remus with questioning eyes, seeking an explanation. 

Remus, visibly uncomfortable and with a hint of regret in his eyes, cleared his throat before speaking. "That's... that's a mark. My mark," he began, struggling to maintain eye contact. 

"In the heat of the moment, it's something an alpha can leave on an omega. It's a claim, a deep, instinctual reaction that seals a powerful bond. I didn't mean to- I should have controlled myself better." 

Your fingers lingered on the mark, your initial shock giving way to a different emotion, one of a surprising acceptance and even a hint of joy. "Does this mean... are we mates now?" 

Remus nodded. "Yes, it does. And I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't intend for this to happen this way. You're a student. I should have been more careful, more in control. But please know, I will take responsibility. I will take care of you, support you, and I promise, I won't be overbearing. I'll-" 

"Remus, stop," you interjected, amused by his words tumbling our in a flustered rush. A smile crept onto your lips, a sense of deep contentment washing over you. 

"I'm not upset. In fact, I'm...happy," you confessed. 

Remus looked up, surprised. "You are?" 

"Yes, I am. To be marked by you, to be your mate... it feels right, despite everything. I don't see myself with any of those young inexperienced alphas..." 

"Young inexperienced alphas," he echoed. "Are you calling me old, miss?"

"Yes, maybe I am..." 

[thewulf]

Beneath the Healer's Touch || Azriel

Summary: Request - I was wondering if you could write an ACOTAR fic with Azriel as the reader’s mate where the reader is Madja’s apprentice, but she rarely ever asks her to personally treat their patients, like she’s just there to assist with the equipment and materials and stuff and the IC never really questioned it... Read Rest Here

A/N: Wasn't planning on putting two Az fics out in a row but I just had to write this. Love it so much, thank you for the requests :)

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Healer Reader)

Word Count: 5.6k +

TW: Use of Magic (fluffy), yelling

You huddle against the rough fabric of the medical tent situated perilously close to the front lines. As Madja’s apprentice your role in the Night Court has always been subdued. Your presence nearly as invisible as the shadows where you often stand. A shy but observant female fae, you’ve adapted to watching and learning. You assisted with the preparation of healing instruments and materials rather than engaging in the direct act of healing itself. Madja, the seasoned healer you serve under has never asked you to step beyond these boundaries . That was until today.

Outside of the tent the clash and clamor of war reverberate through the air. A constant reminder of the stakes at play. Inside the tent the atmosphere is thick with the scent of blood and herbs being punctuated by the groans of soldiers bearing the fresh scars of battle. Each day the flow of injured warriors increases, overwhelming even Madja’s formidable skills.

Her usual calm efficiency begins to wane under the strain. Her movements growing more frantic as she tries to attend to multiple critical cases simultaneously. The limited space of the tent is filled with the wounded and the air is heavy with desperation and the iron tang of blood.

Seeing the desperation in Madja's eyes as she struggles to keep up you begin to feel the weight of every unattended soldier pressing down upon you. Your hands which were so accustomed to organizing and managing the background needs itch to do more — to heal and to help directly.

In a moment of sheer necessity Madja turns to you with a look of grave urgency. "I need you now, more than ever," she says over the din of suffering. Her voice thick with exhaustion. "You must help me heal them. We are losing too many. I have called for more help, but I need you today."

As the urgent call pierces through the chaotic sounds of the medical tent you look into Madja’s eyes feeling the weight of her plea. Your heart races but your response is calm and resolute. “I’ll do it,” you say quickly. The words almost catching in your throat.

Madja reaches out, her hand briefly squeezing yours. A gesture laden with both gratitude and apology. “I’m sorry to ask this of you,” she murmurs as her voice laced with regret as she glances at the wounded waiting for attention.

You shake your head dismissing her concerns with a small, reassuring smile that you hope masks your nervousness. “It’s alright, Madja. I’ll be okay,” you assure her while stepping closer to the first of many soldiers who need your help. Your voice is stronger than you feel, imbued with a determination that you muster from the depths of your commitment to heal. Despite the personal cost.

With a deep, steadying breath you prepare yourself for the task ahead knowing each healing touch will draw the pain into your own body. But in this moment of desperate need your resolve is unwavering. You are ready to face whatever comes for the sake of those who depend on you.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you step forward. Your usual place behind the scenes abandoned for the harsh reality of frontline medical work. You approach the first soldier laid out before you. His injuries severe and daunting. As you extend your hands to begin the healing a part of you recoils knowing the personal cost you will soon pay. With a deep breath you brace yourself against the incoming tide of pain that will transfer to you as you heal him accepting the burden as the price of your newfound duty.

In the stifling heat of the medical tent, you move from one soldier to the next. Your hands becoming conduits of both healing and suffering. The first soldier’s injury—a deep gash across his arm—closes under the gentle press of your palms but the sharp sting of the wound sears through you as if the blade had cut into your own flesh. You stifle a gasp, biting down on your lip to keep composed as the pain lingers. It was a cruel echo of the soldier's relief.

With each healing the burden grows heavier. A fractured leg brings an ache that settles deep into your bones making you falter for a moment as you steady yourself against a tent pole. A burn from a fire spell sends waves of searing heat coursing through your skin. You struggle to maintain the calm exterior expected of a healer. Despite the agony each touch brings you press on being driven by the urgent need around you.

The soldiers were unaware of the cost you pay with each healing thank you with weak smiles and hoarse words of gratitude. You return their thanks with nods and a faint smile making sure to hide the toll their pain exacts upon you.

Throughout all of this the Inner Circle is embroiled in their own battles too consumed by strategic planning and counterattacks to notice the quiet suffering of Madja’s apprentice. They see you sometimes as a fleeting figure moving among the cots, but the depth of your sacrifice remains unseen being masked by the chaos of war and the stoic mask you wear.

The pain accumulates as a collection of injuries that are not your own yet reside within you. As the day wears on you feel yourself weakening. The physical costs of your hidden ability dragging at your limbs making each step heavier. Each breath shallower. Still, you continue, the need to help, to heal, pushing you beyond your limits. The cries of pain are a call you cannot ignore even as each healing tears a little piece from your own reserves of strength.

In the privacy of brief moments alone when you can lean against the cool canvas of the tent and close your eyes, the reality of your situation presses close, intimate, and overwhelming. How long can you sustain this? The question haunts the back of your mind, but you push it away instead focusing on the faces of those you’ve saved on the necessity of your pain for their relief. This is the path you’ve chosen. Hidden in shadows yet illuminated by the faint glow of altruism, bearing silently the scars that no one else can see.

As dusk begins to settle over the camp casting long shadows between the rows of tents Azriel returns from a skirmish. His usually composed expression tightened with discomfort. The shadows that constantly swirl around him seem agitated reflecting his unease. He carries a minor wound. A laceration on his arm that under normal circumstances would be a trivial matter for a healer of his caliber. However, this wound is tainted with faebane, a substance notorious for its ability to thwart fae healing magic.

You watch from a distance initially noticing the way he grimaces as he presses his fingers against the jagged edge of the cut attempting to coax his own magic to seal it. But the faebane embedded in the wound repels each attempt. And with each failed healing his frustration grows. An exceptionally rare crack in his usually impenetrable demeanor.

Recognizing his struggle, you approach him tentatively. The weight of the day’s healings presses heavily on you. Each step toward him a battle against the fatigue that threatens to buckle your knees. “Azriel,” you call softly not wanting to startle him.

He looks up and for a brief moment you’re caught in the intensity of his gaze. His eyes that were usually so guarded and unreadable were now openly display his vexation and pain. "It's this damned faebane," he mutters almost to himself as his hand falls away from the wound.

Stepping closer you offer a small, reassuring smile though your body screams in protest. “Let me try,” you whisper while extending your trembling hands towards his arm.

As your fingers brush against his skin a shock of connection jolts through you. Stronger and more profound than anything you've felt with the other soldiers. It’s as if his very soul resonates with yours. A hum of compatibility that whispers of a deeper bond. Your heart stutters in your chest but you focus on the task at hand pushing away the implications of what this connection might mean.

You press your palms to the laceration and immediately a sharp pain slices through your own arm, mirroring Azriel’s wound. You stifle a cry by biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood. The sensation is intense, more so because it’s Azriel’s pain you’re sharing now. Despite the agony you pour your energy into the healing being driven by a newfound desperation.

Azriel watches you. His expression shifting from one of pain to concern. "You don’t have to do this," he starts. His voice rough with his own discomfort and the growing worry for yours.

But you shake your head pushing through the pain with a determination that frightens even you. "I can handle it," you lie. The words barely a whisper over the throbbing in your arm. As the faebane slowly loses its grip and the wound begins to close a wave of dizziness hits you. So strong that you sway on your feet.

As Azriel steadies you with his shadows curling anxiously around his form he is acutely aware of the pain coursing through his arm, mirroring the wound he just healed. As a shadowsinger he has always been attuned to the deeper often hidden emotions of those around him. He was capable of sensing the unspoken pains and secret fears that others carry silently. However, this experience is startlingly intense. A raw echo of agony that pulses through him with unusual clarity.

The pain he feels as you heal him doesn't feel like his own. It’s as if he’s tapped into a direct stream of your suffering. This connection, though new and unexplored, unnerves him. It is more profound than anything he has experienced through his shadows before. Almost as if the pain itself has a voice, whispering of shared suffering and mutual burden. He struggles with the realization that he is feeling your agony so vividly. The lines of empathy blurring into something deeper. Something he can't quite understand yet.

In this moment as the faebane's resistance fades and the laceration begins to heal, Azriel finds himself grappling with a mix of concern and a peculiar sense of protectiveness. The intensity of the connection doesn’t fit into the usual confines of his abilities or past experiences. While he doesn't comprehend the full extent of what this means—far from realizing the potential of a mate bond—he recognizes that something significant lies beneath the surface of this shared pain. This unexpected insight into your sacrifice doesn't just alarm him. It shifts something fundamental in how he perceives you. Compelling him to reassess the nature of your relationship and his instincts towards you.

His hands were gripping your shoulders with surprising gentleness. "What is this costing you?" he asks. His voice laced with a rare note of vulnerability having felt a trace of your suffering through the nascent bond neither of you yet understands.

You want to reassure him. To tell him it’s nothing but the shadows in his eyes seem to see through you, recognizing the depth of your sacrifice. In this shared moment of pain and healing the unspoken truth of your connection lingers heavily between you. A secret laid bare by the battle scars you both carry.

You meet Azriel's intense gaze seeing the concern etched in his features threatening to unravel the composure you've fought so hard to maintain. His hands on your shoulders feel both grounding and alarming. As if they're the only things keeping you from collapsing under the weight of your own sacrifices. "I need to keep going," you manage to say. Your voice a strained whisper that barely conceals the weariness lacing each syllable. "There are others who need me."

Trying to inject a note of reassurance into your tone you add quickly, "It's part of healing, Azriel. I'll be okay." Even as you speak the words you feel the hollowness behind them. A contrast to the truth of your pain. But you're determined not to let him see just how much it's affecting you not wanting to add to his burdens.

With a gentle but firm push against his hands you step back pulling away from his comforting grasp. "I have to go," you insist, turning towards the next cot where another soldier lies moaning in pain. You don't look back almost afraid that if you do your resolve will crumble under the weight of his worry and the unspoken connection that you both feel but don't yet understand. You move forward, each step fueled by a mix of duty and the urgent need to escape the intensity of his scrutiny and the complicated emotions it stirs within you.

Azriel was still visibly troubled by the earlier interaction. With your evident strain he insists on accompanying you as you move from one wounded soldier to another. His presence is a silent, watchful shadow that lingers just at the edge of your vision. While the others of the Inner Circle are engaged in the throes of battle, Azriel has chosen to remain by your side. A decision that speaks more of his concern than any words could.

As you press on each healing session takes more from you. Draining your energy, drawing more of your strength. Azriel observes closely noting the increasing pallor of your skin and the subtle tremors in your hands each time you withdraw them from a wound. Despite your attempts to mask your pain, each expression, each falter does not escape his vigilant gaze.

As you lean over a severely wounded soldier focusing intently on sealing a deep, life-threatening laceration the accumulated pain from your healings surges like a tide, overwhelming and relentless. The sharp and unyielding agony lashes through you, blurring your vision and weakening your knees. You feel the darkness creeping in at the edges of your consciousness threatening to pull you under.

In a desperate bid to maintain control you reach out not for Azriel but for the tent’s support pole—a futile attempt to steady yourself. Yet, your hands grasp only air as your strength finally fails. Before you can process the fall Azriel’s arms are around you. His reaction swift and sure. He pulls you gently against him cushioning your collapse as he lowers both of you smoothly to the floor of the tent.

In this moment your pride battles with the undeniable relief of his support. You hadn't called for him. You hadn't wanted to admit that he might have been right about the danger of your condition, yet here he is, the one catching you as you fall. His presence is both a comfort and a confrontation. A not-so-subtle reminder of your own vulnerability.

Azriel cradles you against his chest. His expression a mask of concern etched deep with the lines of fear for your well-being. He doesn’t speak immediately instead opting to brush a gentle hand across your forehead, pushing away strands of hair matted with sweat. His touch is soft, almost reverent, as if he’s both trying to comfort you and reassure himself of your presence.

Around you the battle's distant roars continue but within the tent a quiet bubble of stillness envelops you both punctuated only by your labored breaths. Azriel’s gaze is locked on your face searching for any sign of recovery. Looking for any indication that you might overcome this bout of weakness.

In his eyes there is a flicker of something more—something beyond mere concern. It's a profound realization of your sacrifice. Of the silent suffering you've endured to heal others. And with this realization comes a fierce protectiveness. A vow forming in the depths of his being. He holds you closer, a silent promise cradled in the curve of his arms, that from this moment forward he will do whatever it takes to protect you. To ensure that this burden of pain is no longer yours to bear alone. The bond between you seemingly mysterious and undefined becomes his anchor. The thing he clings to as he silently pledges to be the safeguard you might not admit you need but he knows you deserve.

The pain you've been shouldering now echoes clearly through the bond that neither of you fully understands yet. But its intensity is unmistakable. Azriel feels each pang as if it were his own. A shared torment that binds you together with an ironclad tether. His face was mere inches from yours and is etched with deep concern and something akin to fear. "Hold on," he urges. His voice a low, desperate command. "Stay with me."

As Azriel holds you in his arms feeling the distressing ebb of your consciousness his protective instincts surge into high alert. The warmth from your body seems to be fading and your breathing becomes worryingly shallow. Typical signs that your physical limits have been catastrophically breached. Panic tightens its grip on him. A vivid contrast to the usual calm demeanor of the shadowsinger.

"Madja!" he calls out desperately. His voice piercing the relative quiet of the tent with an urgency that rattles the air. The shadows around him stir reflecting his growing desperation. He needs her expertise, her understanding of your mysterious condition that now seems perilously close to claiming you.

Madja rushes through the flaps of the tent with her healer's bag clutched tightly, the sight that greets her—a formidable Azriel cradling you, pale and barely conscious—draws a sharp intake of breath from her. She kneels beside you both. Her experienced eyes quickly assessing your condition.

"What happened?" she demands. Her voice thick with worry and confusion. As she lays her hands on you seeking to gauge the extent of your depletion Azriel's gaze hardens.

"She's been healing the soldiers, taking their pain onto herself," Azriel explains. His words rushed. His tone laced with both accusation and fear. "She collapsed just now. How could you not know the toll it was taking on her?"

Madja's expression crumbles into one of profound guilt and regret. She meets Azriel's intense gaze with a resigned sorrow. "I knew," she admits. Her voice a whisper of remorse. "I knew, but I thought we could manage it—keep it under control. I feared the implications of her gift being fully exposed. I thought I was protecting her."

Azriel’s anger wanes slightly instead replaced by a sharp pang of understanding. He knows all too well the complexities of hiding one's true capabilities in a world that might not understand or might exploit them. However, his concern for your well-being remains paramount.

"She needs help now, Madja. What can we do?" he asks with his voice softening but still tinged with urgency.

Madja nods. Her focus turning entirely to you. "I can stabilize her for now, but we need to rethink how she uses her gift," she says as she begins to channel her own healing magic into you. A gentle flow designed not to heal but to sustain.

As Madja works Azriel holds you closer. His thoughts racing with concern and resolve. He watches the slight return of warmth to your cheeks under Madja’s skilled care, feeling a blend of relief and determination surge through him. A promise forms in his heart. Not merely to protect you but to truly understand and support your unique gift, no matter the cost.

However, the demands of the ongoing battle pull at him. Madja noticed the conflict in his expression speaks with a calm authority. "She must rest now, Azriel," she advises with her voice steady. "And they need you. The battle isn't over yet."

Reluctantly Azriel nods. The weight of his responsibilities clear on his face. He leans down with his lips brushing your forehead in a gentle kiss. His assurance of returning to you. "I'll be back soon," he promises. His voice a whisper meant only for you. With one last lingering look that conveys all his worry and care he stands and leaves the tent. His figure soon disappearing into the fray.

The war rages on demanding every ounce of Azriel's focus and skill. Yet his thoughts frequently stray back to the medical tent, to you, lying there in recovery. Each moment he can spare he finds himself glancing towards the tent. His mind racing with scenarios of returning to you.

As the last echoes of battle fade and a weary peace begins to settle, Azriel's duties finally allow him a moment to breathe. He wastes no time. The moment he is able he rushes back to the medical tent with his steps quick with urgency and anticipation. Pushing through the tent flaps, Azriel’s eyes immediately seek you out. He finds you awake but visibly exhausted propped up against some pillows. The sight of you, alive and recovering, though still weak floods him with relief.

“I’m here,” Azriel breathes out as he quickly crosses the space to your side before kneeling beside your cot. His hand reaches out brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a tenderness that belies his warrior's exterior. “How are you feeling?” he asks. His voice low and filled with concern. His eyes scanning your face for any sign of pain or discomfort.

Azriel’s presence instantly eases some of the weight pressing down on you and relief softens your features. "I'm exhausted," you admit but manage a weak smile. "But I'll be alright, just need some rest." Your eyes meet his and even in your weariness there's an undeniable relief that reflects back from his gaze. An unspoken understanding of the solace you both find in each other’s presence after the chaos of battle.

"You had us worried for a while there," Azriel says. His voice a mix of relief and mild reprimand. His eyes scan your face still searching for signs of pain or lingering fatigue. His concern palpable but not overwhelming. "Madja told me you'd recover but seeing it for myself makes all the difference."

Your smile deepens slightly at his words. You were grateful for his concern and the straightforward honesty that always marked your interactions. "I'll be fine, Azriel. Really," you assure him with your tone aiming to put him at ease. "It's good to have you back though."

In the days following the battle, as the camp slowly transitions from a place of urgent healing back to routine operations, your strength begins to return. With each passing day the pain and exhaustion that had once clouded your vision start to fade instead replaced by a growing vigor that Madja assures you is a good sign of recovery. Azriel, true to his word, visits often. His presence a constant reassurance as the camp breaks down around you. The war finally declared over.

Once you're deemed well enough to travel Azriel accompanies you back to Velaris. The journey was facilitated by the magic of winnowing is quick but disorienting. A dramatic shift from the dusty tents and the sharp smells of medicine to the lush, serene beauty of the Night Court. Back in Velaris the city seems to embrace you both with open arms. The familiar sights and sounds of the vibrant city life, the cobblestone streets lit by lanterns and the murmur of the Sidra River, provide a comforting backdrop to your continued recovery.

A few nights after your return, once you feel stronger and more like yourself, Azriel invites you to join him on a balcony overlooking Velaris. The balcony was part of a high vantage point in the House of Wind and offers a breathtaking view of the city spread out beneath a canopy of stars. The transition from the harsh realities of war to this peaceful setting marks a significant shift in your healing process—both physical and emotional.

Seated together on the balcony the atmosphere between you is one of tentative peace. A reprieve from the chaos of the battlefield. The evening air is cool and carrying the gentle scent of night-blooming flowers. There’s a quiet that allows for softer, more intimate conversation. Here with the distance from the front lines you both find the space to reflect on the recent events and the impact they’ve had on each of you discussing thoughts and feelings that the war left little room to explore.

This tranquil setting in Velaris which was far removed from the demands of war allows you both to see each other in a new light. Appreciating the resilience and strength each has shown, and perhaps, beginning to understand the deeper bond that seems to have formed in the crucible of conflict.

Azriel breaks the silence between you with a gentle voice reflecting the calm of the night. "I've been thinking about your healing abilities. About your gift," he says before pausing as if searching for the right way to broach the subject without overstepping. "It's a heavy burden you've carried… taking on others' pain."

You nod appreciating his careful approach. "It can be overwhelming," you admit. Your voice low. Sharing this truth with him feels both vulnerable and relieving. "Especially knowing that each time I heal, I take a little bit of that pain into myself."

The softness of his gaze as he looks at you speaks volumes, and he shifts slightly closer. "Perhaps we can find a way to ease that burden," he suggests. "Explore methods to shield you or at least to share the load." The idea of sharing this part of your life with Azriel, having him understand and perhaps help carry the weight, brings a warmth to your heart. It’s a tentative step towards deeper connection and you find yourself hoping for more.

"And how about us?" Azriel adds after a moment, the question hanging between you like a delicate thread. "These past weeks, feeling everything that you have felt... it’s made me realize how deeply connected I am to you. More than I anticipated." The admission hangs in the air and is charged with an unspoken depth of emotion. You felt it too. The inexplicable pull towards him. Something beyond mere friendship.

You smile a soft, genuine expression that lights up your eyes. "I feel it too," you confess. "It's like there’s something between us, something... more."

The conversation flows more freely now, the initial hesitance giving way to a hopeful exploration of what might be. Neither of you mentions the word 'mates,' still dancing around the full depth of your bond, but there’s an unspoken acknowledgment of the significance of your connection.

As the night deepens between you, you and Azriel make promises. Not grand declarations but quiet vows to support each other. To explore the depth of your bond and understand the extent of your powers together. It's a mutual commitment filled with the promise of discovering not just the mysteries of your abilities but also the potential of what you could be to each other.

With the city of Velaris sparkling below and the tranquil night wrapping around you there’s a sense of beginning. Of possibilities waiting to be explored. Together you watch the stars comforted by the presence of each other and hopeful for the future.

In the quiet of the pre-dawn, you and Azriel linger on the balcony ensconced in the gentle embrace of Velaris' early morning serenity. The sky is a tapestry of deep blues and purples and begins to lighten at the horizon, heralding the dawn. The air around you is charged with the quiet anticipation of the world waking up. A fitting backdrop for the profound moment unfolding between you.

Azriel's gaze remains fixed on the horizon, but his mind is clearly elsewhere—on the revelations of the night, on the words that now hover on the edge of being spoken. Finally, he turns to you with his expression open. He was vulnerable in a way that you've seldom seen from the reserved shadowsinger. "There's something undeniable about the connection between us," he begins. His voice soft, reverent almost. "It goes beyond what we’ve had. Beyond friendship.” You meet his gaze feeling the truth of his words resonate within you. It's a truth you've sensed but haven't dared to define until this moment.

Finally finding the courage to speak what he’s discovered he steps closer making sure to bridge the gap between you. His presence enveloping you in warmth. "I've felt every echo of your pain, every ripple of your joy as if they were my own. It's more than just empathy… it's a bond, a deep, unbreakable bond." His hands find yours. His touch gentle but firm. "I believe we're mates," he says. The words charged with emotion and an unspoken plea for you to feel the same.

Your heart leaps. The simplicity and sincerity of his admission cutting through any lingering doubts. You smile, not just with your lips but with your entire being, accepting the truth of his words and the bond they confirm. "Azriel, I've sensed it as well," you reply with your voice soft yet filled with wonder. "It’s as if there’s been a song woven into the fabric of our days, subtle yet persistent, waiting for us to finally hear it and understand its tune."

Azriel's smile in response is a thing of quiet joy. A uniquely rare and tender sight that stirs something deep within you. He pulls you gently closer and you find yourself wrapped in his embrace. The city around you awakening as the first light of dawn spills over the edges of the world.

In the tranquil embrace of dawn Azriel holds you close. His heart beating a tentative rhythm against yours. His voice carries a rare vulnerability that makes the air around you thrum with the weight of his words. “Do you want that?" he asks softly. His breath warm against your hair. "To always be there for each other. To face whatever this world throws at us, together, as one?"

He pulls back slightly as his hands were still gently cradling your face. His eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. This question isn't merely rhetorical. It's a genuine, open-ended inquiry into your desires. A request for your heart's agreement with his. Azriel's usual certainty is replaced by an endearing, hopeful uncertainty. Highlighting how deeply he values your consent and participation in this burgeoning bond.

You look into his eyes. Into those deep pools of night that have seen so much sorrow and solitude, now laced with tender hope. The dawn casts its first gentle rays illuminating the sincerity and slight apprehension on his face. This moment, this question, isn't just about confirming a bond. It's about choosing to build a future together.

"Yes, Azriel," you respond. Your voice steady and sure, a soft yet resolute affirmation that echoes the depth of your own feelings. "I want that more than anything."

Azriel's response is immediate. His eyes reflecting a profound relief and joy that seem to brighten the very air around him. A broad, genuine smile spreads across his face transforming his usually stoic expression into one of pure elation.

"You've just made me the happiest male in all of Prythian," he breathes out as his voice is rich with emotion. The sincerity in his words resonates deeply echoing the significance of your acceptance.

His arms pull you closer. The warmth of his embrace enveloping you as he whispers, "We'll face everything together, side by side. No matter what comes we won't face it alone."

"Always," you echo back, your voice a soft yet resolute affirmation. The certainty in your agreement strengthens the bond between you weaving your fates together with threads of shared strength and mutual understanding setting a path forward together in the intertwining dance of your shared lives.

Azriel’s smile deepens at your words. His relief and joy palpable. The certainty of your mutual promise solidifies the bond between you weaving your fates together with threads of shared strength and understanding. His hands that still cradling your face shift slightly and his fingers brush tenderly across your lips. A touch so gentle it sends a shiver down your spine.

The intimate gesture holds a world of meaning. As he gazes into your eyes the warmth and intensity of his emotions are clear. He leans in, his breath mingling with yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. Then with a tenderness that quickly deepens into something more he pulls you in for a kiss.

What starts as a gentle meeting of lips soon transforms into a kiss filled with passion and longing. As if all the emotions and realizations of the past days and weeks are being poured into this single, breathtaking moment. Azriel’s kiss is both a promise and a declaration, sealing the bond between you with a fervor that leaves you breathless.

Your arms wrap around him pulling him closer responding to the depth of his kiss with equal intensity. The world around you fades away leaving only the two of you entwined in a moment that transcends everything else. As the kiss lingers it becomes clear that this is not just a bond forged in the fires of battle but a connection that will shape your future, side by side, whatever may come.

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[robo-writing]

Cockwarming with the MK1 boys

Kuai Liang

Cockwarming? Never heard of it.

You have to explain it before the visual clicks in his head, and it’s only then you see him nod in agreement.

Surprisingly receptive to the idea, it doesn’t take him much convincing. He enjoys the idea of close intimacy.

When would you like to start?

“Now? If you say so, little bird.”

There’s a peace that blooms in him, despite the salacious position you’re in. Hands rubbing into your bare back, nose buried into your neck as he inhales your scent, the hitch in your breath as you adjust yourself on his length.

It would be relaxing, if the feeling of your pussy wasn’t currently driving him up a wall. Everything is heightened this way, every breath making you clench against him, every movement making him shudder in bliss, a repetitive loop of sensations that keep the both of you trapped in each other’s embrace.

You move, he follows. You whimper, and he tastes the sounds on his tongue. You stay like that until you fall asleep, where he wakes up and the first thing he feels is the warmth of your cunt.

Bi-Han

Confusion is painted on his face when you tell him your idea.

Eyebrows raised, he didn’t know you to be the type to be so forward, surprised at just how eager you were.

“Hm, seems simple enough.”

At first he didn’t understand the appeal—if you wanted to have sex he could easily hold you hostage to the bed.

But fine, he would indulge you.

As it turned out you are far more creative than he gives you credit for. He might enjoy this newfound position more than he thought.

Every time you squirm, it’s another slap to your ass. The sound rings loudly in your ears, the clash of skin only dwarfed by your whimpering.

“Bi-Han, please—“ you beg, arms wrapped around his neck, scared to move anymore in fear of your husband’s wrath. “Just a little bit, I need more—“

Another hand comes down on your backside. You jump in response, then shiver when Bi-Han’s cold hands soothe the aching flesh.

“You decided the rules darling, no moving.”

You almost want to argue, but the look in his eyes freezes you in place. You’re forced to obey, shaking with anticipation for the moment Bi-Han finds you ready and fucks you like you need.

Tomas

“You want to what?”

Poor Tomas, his face turns a shade of red you’ve never seen before. He has to ask you to repeat yourself to make sure he heard you correctly.

When you do he becomes even more flustered, but it does spark a certain…curiosity.

He’s open to anything when it comes to you, and he would be a liar if he said otherwise.

As sweet as Tomas can be, it’s like he’s a different person when you’re like this—possessive, greedy even. He holds you by your ass and refuses to let go, kissing at your face when you shudder at the feeling of his cock inside you.

So big, so fucking full.

“Is this what you had in mind?” He grunts, barely stopping his hips from forcing you to bounce on his length. You can see it in his eyes, the barely-held back urge to dig his fingers into your skin and fuck you like he wants to, it’s only your pleas that keep him complacent for the time being.

You see shades of the sweet man you’ve come to love, almost overshadowed by the lust that pools in his very being. He wants to cum so bad, but more than that he wants to be good for you.

Johnny Cage

“You’re not kidding right? Please tell me it isn’t April.”

He’s over the moon, he’s actually thought about it before but was worried you wouldn’t be up for it.

But hearing you ask for it? You’ve given him far too much freedom, and you might regret that in the future.

Safe to say that it becomes his new favorite pastime.

Johnny was the one who invited you over in the first place, something about “needing to focus on his newest script.” A very obvious lie, but you suppose that hindsight is 20/20, especially where your boyfriend is concerned.

Instead of focusing on memorizing his lines, he instead memorizes what makes you tick, what buttons he has to press before you’ve become a writhing mess in his arms, how far you fall on his cock before your legs start shaking.

“Can’t help it baby,” he says, rutting into you softly. “You’re just feel too damn good.”

You almost want to beg him to fuck you, but you know him better than anyone—if Johnny says he’s going to keep you on his lap, he means it. So even if he’s barely focused on the script in his hands, you can be sure as hell you’re going to be sat on his cock until he’s had his fun.

Kenshi Takahashi

He laughs a bit, entertained at the thought.

You, sat pretty in his lap? It makes his heart beat faster.

He asks if you know what you’re getting yourself into, asking him a question like that, but your excited nod is enough of an answer for him.

“Okay then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Kenshi feels the heat that spreads through your body, a benefit of losing his sight. He knows all your weak points, his heightened senses aware of every reaction you have to his touch.

He knows you better than you know yourself, even without sento he knows how desperate you are to move.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

He coos in your ear, tattooed hands rubbing circle against your shaking hips, a gentle squeeze reminding you to keep still. You nod in reply, but it doesn’t stop the soft noises leaving your lips.

Raiden

Turns into a shade of pink you didn’t know existed

Lost for words, it takes him a moment to register what you’ve said before responding

“Well, if you’re interested, I wouldn’t mind…”

Poor man, he doesn’t know how to express himself, but he is very on-board!

He tries his best, really he does, but how exactly is he supposed to stay still when you pulse around him so deliciously?

He knows he’s supposed to enjoy this, but being unable to move is driving him up a wall. You have to scold him like a child every time his hips try to move higher.

He stares at the ceiling, head tilted backwards in an attempt to calm down his racing heartbeat, afraid that even the sight of you will make him lose control. In, out, his breathing is labored, your voice doing nothing to quell his urges.

“Relax baby,” you say, running your fingers through his hair. “We still have the rest of the night.”

Kung Lao

You’ve never seen him smile that wide before.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

If you didn’t ask him, he would’ve. He’s just glad you saved him the effort.

The moment you two walk into the bedroom he’s pawing at your pants. He’s impatient, and can you blame him?

“Kung Lao, calm down!”

You try to plead with your boyfriend, but it goes in one ear and out the other. What was meant to be a relaxing past time is now a struggle to keep his wandering hands to himself.

“Come on, don’t you want me to touch you?” He teases. His lips find their way to your nipple, lapping at the pebbled nub while his fingers slide between the two of you.

“This wasn’t the plan,” you whine in response, unknowingly pressing yourself into his greedy fingers. “I wanted us to enjoy this…”

“And we will,” he promises, circling your clit with a twinkle in his eye. “Just want you to feel as good as possible baby.”

Liu Kang

He’s heard of the act before, but never really gave it any thought.

“You sound like you’ve thought about this often, darling.”

He can’t help but tease you a bit, but he’s completely in agreement.

When he has a moment of free time he invites you to sit on his lap, grinning when his fingers dance across your skin.

For a god, Liu Kang sure can be a tease.

In his private quarters he keeps you close to him, one of the rare moments where he has no obligations and can simply enjoy himself. You thought this would be a perfect time to act on your little suggestion, and he thought the same.

Where you erred however, is misjudging a god’s patience.

Two hours ago you eagerly stripped for your husband, and in those two hours you’ve been left teetering on the edge, every time you close your eyes for a moments peace Liu Kang finds it fit to let his fingers remind you of where you are.

A repetitive cycle with no end in sight.

Your clit throbs with an incessant need, but you’re unable to do anything except take what he gives.

Syzoth

Beg your pardon?

You literally see his pupils dilate at the thought

“Really? Are you sure?”

He has his own misgivings about the idea, still ashamed of his ancestry as a Zaterran. It took him a while to become intimate with you but this…

You assure him that this is something you want, and he eventually agrees.

You gently coax Syzoth onto the bed, making your hips flush with his. You can see the doubt begin to flood his mind, until you drag his hands from the bed and onto your body.

“There’s no rush baby,” you murmur, resting your head on his chest. “Let’s just stay like this, hm?”

You hear his heartbeat return to its natural rhythm, his hands slowly brushing against your spine. Tentative, testing the waters, as if you’d shatter if he held you too tight. As the minutes pass he becomes more comfortable with your position, the feeling of your warmth enveloping him.

“I admit, there is something very peaceful about this…” he hums. You make a noise in agreement.

[rendezvouz-fling]

Synastry/Composite placements as I’ve experienced it.🥂

Aqua Moon conjunct Aqua Sun - I was the moon person and they were the sun person. I felt very comfortable with them and felt like they projected my inner thoughts/behavior. They felt very zen & accepting to me. They were also very understanding and fun to be around. Overall very familiar energy.

Pisces Sun conjunct Pisces moon - I was the sun person and they were the moon person. This really goes both ways with me. I either find them extremely childish and overly sensitive or quiet reserved, kind and humble. Anywho, they somewhat feel like an extension of me but a more sensitive one. (I literally feel like I have to walk on eggshells around them most times💀)

Pisces Sun opposite Virgo moon - I was the sun person, they were the moon person. Ugh I can’t express how many times I tend to clash with these people. All I’m for they’re against, all I’m against they’re for. I like that they’re punctual and practical people which is great, yet some of them nag too much and tend to be straight pessimists…

Leo Rising - I have this with my best friend whom I've known for almost 7 years now and it's honestly the best composite rising I've experienced so far! We're always cheering each other up and on to do great things and have fun. We always have each other's backs. We like to troll people sometimes and act like comedians. 😂 We exaggerate things and agree to each other's delusions. Act like we're on top of the world and we can take on anything/anyone together. And there's this strong sense of loyalty between us. Literally ride or die placement!

4H mars/8H mars - My mars falls in my best friend's 4H and I'm very affectionate and nurturing towards her. I listen to her and make her feel validated. I also feel like I've gotta protect her in a way. It comes as no surprise that she sees me as a sister, given the 4H is related to family. On the flip side, her mars falls in my 8H and she acts protective over me. Like if someone said something that hurt my feelings or if they just started the minimalistic of arguments, she's quick to jump in at my defense. Ironically, her Natal mars is in her 4H and mine is in my 8H so maybe that's why it also feels pretty natural to us.

8H asc/6H asc - So, I have this step cousin who's rising falls in my 6H and he acts hella reserved. Not specifically cold, just doesn't talk to me much. My rising falls in his 8H and I always feel so shy around him for no reason. I'll wanna say something but just keep it in my thoughts. Very indirect talking and shyness. We have Virgo rising in composite.

Aqua Venus - If it's in water houses (4/8/12) there's a more affectionate nature, bonus if it's at a water degree. That goes for all composite Venus anyways. Aqua Venus tends to feel like there's emotional detachment. Like when you get too close they pull away or vice versa.

11H asc - I can't begin to stress how awkward and uncomfortable this overlay isss. It depends though, me being a Gemini rising, I find it more uncomfortable with Leo risings sometimes, than I do if my rising falls in a Cancer rising's 11H. I love Leo risings though.

Gemini Rising-Gemini Venus - My ex's Venus falls in my 12H and doesn't even touch my rising, yet it was love at first sight. He loves telling me about his day, playfully teasing me. He's also hilarious and has a very similar sense of humor as mine. We have Aries sun/mercury/venus in composite.

10H Pisces Venus-Pisces mars - My ex's mars conjuncts my Venus and he used to be very protective of me. Very much the "my girl this, my girl that" type. 😂 Because Pisces falls in my 10H, I've always seen him as very chill, responsible and easy going.

Cancer rising - There's always a nurturing vibe there, no matter the other placements. I had this with an ex and we talked a lot about having kids, there was also a sense of family there. It tends to be a very sweet placement, where one of you (or both) are sweet talkers.

10H mercury - I had this with an ex and they thought I was very smart and would often ask me meaning of certain things. 🥲 I also find others who have their mercuries in my 10H are very well spoken and give off sophisticated vibes.

3H - I am a suckerrr for people who have placements in my 3H *cough* Leo placements *cough* I just find them so intriguing and that we tend to have a lot in common!! I usually bond with people over music, so I find that Leo venuses/mercuries have the best taste and put me onto a lot of music! Leo moons that fall in my 3rd house, opposite my 9H Aqua moon and I tend to get along with them better than those that fall in my 2H. Leo suns that fall in my 3H feel like those curious siblings that wanna share and know everything! Definitely a personal fav!!

[fluffymarshmalllows]

In every universe, I'll look for you

fanfic about Reader getting sucked in the portal first, Ford follows.

Another restless night for you and your husband in the basement. Coffee staining the journals as he scribbles more blurbs about this “Bill” person he keeps calling his muse. You didn’t want to feel jealous but ever since that absurdly long late night walk Ford took months ago, he’s been nose deep into every physics book and theoretical researches to prove something, anything. Every time you beg him to rest, he refuses making you a bit annoyed, blame it on the sleep deprivation and lack of quality time.

“Please, Fordsy, you really need some rest. We’ve been working on this project for weeks now” you muttered, half-asleep at this point. But words fell on deaf ears as your husband just waved you off with some empty promises of he’ll be with you to bed soon.

Too tired to argue, you kissed him on the cheek which caused his face to get dusted pink for a bit, but still very much focused on his calculations. A sight you will never get tired of. You also waved to Fiddleford who was roped in this whole project bidding farewell.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” he says without looking up as you climb the squeaky staircase. You reminded them both to get some rest while internally praying to whoever God that will listen that you get your doting husband back sooner than later.

Not even hours later, loud metal clashes and bangs from the basement jerked you awake. You shot up and dashed straight to Ford worried that something might’ve happened. Did he get injured? A part fell on him? Was he trashing the place? Shaking your head ridding of those thoughts. Running towards the basement fueled with adrenaline and a power nap is not ideal but the situation called for it.

You got there as quick as you can and witnessed a rather vulgar argument between your husband and Fiddleford leading to the latter walking out and bumping your shoulder muttering unpleasant words towards Ford.

Peering out from the basement stairs, on the other side of their makeshift divider was a big glowing construction whirring with power. “Oh my god” those were the only things that you could mutter in that moment. The machine was… working. It was finally working. After months of sleepless nights, exhausted arguing, they finally made it work giving you hope that things will soon get back to normal, or as much as it used to be.

Ford felt your presence and looked at you like a mad-man, eyes crazed with no sign of sanity. It made you question if the man standing ahead of you was really the guy you married. “It finally worked! The math finally made sense. Do you understand, Y/N?! This is our key to figuring out all these anomalies.” You took a step back your back against the door while he tries to coax you in joining him. “No, Ford, this doesn’t look safe”.

Ford turned his back to you, staring at his creation. “Fiddleford said the same thing” he mused, “but please, beloved, I won’t let you be in any danger”. His reassuring voice was enough to put you in some ease as you walked to him extending his hand.

He held you by your waist supporting your trenbling body, guiding you to admire their creation. Observing some sparks of electricty dancing across the ground and bouncing off the walls. Ford was explaining to you how it works, how he plans to use it, what they should do next and all that but one look at your alarmed face gave him all the hint he needed to keep quiet and let you process all this.

He was so enamored by this portal he built, you both did not realize the glass dividing the area was slowly cracking. Only took some more volts of current to run by it to shatter and allow the portal to suck you in.

It happened so fast. Ford tried grabbing you but the force was too much, pulling you in within seconds. You managed to maneuver yourself to grab on the portals frame. Using all your strength pulling your body out to ask for help one last time before you were completely lost somewhere some time in space.

“Ford, help me!” The last words his lover spoke before getting lost in the oblivion haunts him in his every waking hour. He tried consulting Bill about this, how to get you back, but Bill was adamant about the situation, believing that Y/N was just a hurdle to their masterplan. He spent too many lonely nights missing you and regretting what he has done, it was driving him imsane. This lead to him calling quits with Bill which ultimately made the polygon mad.

Alas, he struck the courage to contact his twin after years. This was not an easy decision for him but to set up his grand scheme of finding you in the vast universe, he had to have his brother fit the missing link.

Ford explained everything to Stan, or as much as his twin needed to know but things did not go exactly as planned. He was planning to portal jump, sure, but not get sucked into it accidentally. He found it somewhat humorous that he ended up the same way his lover left, through the portal—asking for help.

Journal log no. 176? 177. Two years, 18 dimensions, 3 timelines. I saw them again. Different hairstyle but with that same aloof smile. Happy in this dimension with me, alternate universe me. I still live to regret that day. It also appears that she is also being tracked by the space-time continueom agencies (noted from the encounter at the do-over dimension). Just what in the world did my Y/N get to?…

Journal log no. 320+. It has been almost 10 home years if I calculated it correctly. Still no sign of my Y/N in this timeline. From the dwellers of this dimension, it appears that the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadron has laid low on the investigation of their whereabouts. It has become harder tracking them down, maybe they learned new tricks. Best to take a note of this…

Journal log __ . I have lost track of days in this dimension. Some part of this dimension are mirrors that behaves like looking glasses. Upon my first arrival, a mirror reflected Y/N staring back at me. As I am writing this, I am still formulating probable hypothesis that could explain their reflection on mine. Seeing them again after so long makes me yearn for them more. If only I h

A zipping sound ripped from a distance away from Ford as he's trying to journal his discoveries.

“Time to go” quickly packing all his materials shoving it in his makeshift bag careful not to drop any while going on another leap. He looked back at those men? Aliens? Whoever those guys are they are pretty hot on his trail. Getting too close for his own comfort. And too many close calls with them than Ford will admit.

“Get him!” The smallest tentacle humanoid man commanded or something similar of the sort, it’s another universe language he has yet to decode. Learning the tongues became much more difficult since he accidentally stumbled on a rebellion matched with a bounty picture of your face displayed in every available surface they can stick it on to. Knowing you, whatever you did there most likely called for it or he hopes so, anyway.

Muttering some curses he took his grand leap and entered another dimension. Not once did he look back.

This time it looked like another parallel timeline of his home universe. Ford walked around pin pointing important anomalies, most of them minor like an extra toe on a cat or a bird with butterfly wings. He slumped down under a tree near the opening of the forest to draw these creatures. Pulling out his journal, he realized something in this dimension feels right, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he belong. Another minor anomaly in a dimension filled with other anomalies. It made him feel normal, but not complete. Ford sniffled his tears back overwhelmed by the feeling of missing you. He never stopped looking for you. Eyes scanning every place hoping to see you again, waiting for him, happy with him.

Coast is clear and the sun was slowly setting. It lulled Ford to take a nap. Closing his eyes trying to remember what you look like. It’s been years since he last saw you. In every universe and timeline you were in, they did not look like you, his Y/N. Something was always off, but one thing remained constant— you were always happy together with him. Ford chuckled bitterly. Only in the universe he lived in was he alone. It was unfair, but he did this to himself. He regrets all the time he spent with Bill than his own spouse. His only lover, to think that fame and knowledge blinded him to put you in danger.

A soft thud was heard from the tree he was resting on, followed by a feeling of being watched made chills ran down his spine. Ford became hyper-aware looking, searching, for anything. Standing up quickly, he was ready to dash for it but for unknown reason he stood his ground. His feet felt glued to the ground, waiting for whatever it was to emerge from the trees’ shadows. The now dark forest was eerie and he could not risk getting hurt in another dimension. A pitter patter of steps from the forest heading his way made him draw his gun aiming at the darkness. His fingers at the trigger, steady.

“Fordsy?”

His breath hitched. Hands trembled. A figured appeared out of the dense forest. Face to face with the gun he was ready to fire. His heartbeat was so loud it was almost all he can hear. Seeing you, still perfect after so many years. With gray hairs and past your prime, yet you still had the same effect on him. Decades or more has passed but the feelings remained the same.

Both of you did not dare to take a step. You feared that this is all in your head, a fragment of your imagination that you did not want to go away. The air was still, and the silence deafening. You can’t take it much longer and you run up to him. Ford took you in with open arms.

He hugged you tight, not willing to let go. Never again will he let you go. All those years of longing and you’re finally back in his arms. He stared at your eyes, filled with the love and adoration like the days you were married and living with each other. You took a step back and slapped him. Hard.

“How dare you!” You angrily muttered to him. Voice tight but not so loud to disturb the silence. “This?! This is what you were trying to make?” Shoving a pointed finger to his shoulder blade. Ford was hurt, but he knew he deserved that anger. “We were always together! In every dimension I went to, even in our past, did you know how much it hurt seeing us together? Knowing that every version of me is happy and loved while I am trying to go back home to a husband who’s cheating on me with a guy!” Y/N rambled exasperated. Your cheeks felt wet, not realizing the tears already started falling. All those years of resentment and anger to your husband resurfaced. “And you know what the worst part is?” You sniffled trying to sound brave “I still love you! And at times I feel like a fool for doing so.”

Ford was confused with what to feel to say the least. He felt sad you had to endure being lonely, longer than he had been. Joy? That you still love him despite his wrong doings. Humour as he realized that you thought Bill as a mistress. That made him crack a small smile which you noticed. You turned around calling him a jerk while wiping your tears muttering cusses.

“Dearest” he tried calling out to you. “You know you’re the only one I love right?” He cooed, still not getting over the fact that he had someone else. He reached out to you gently, wrapping his arms around you. His chest at your back as you felt his breathing on your neck. “Y/N, please face me, it’s been so long since I’ve seen your beauty.” Ford purred. What else can you do but look at him again, you reached your hand to the cheek you hit and soothed it for a bit. “I’m sorry for hitting you” you muttered looking at his eyes. “It was deserved” he replied sheepishly avoiding your gaze. The tension was as thick as the dense forest behind you and you can’t take it anymore.

You pulled him down by grabbing the collar of his coat to give him a kiss. A bit stunned Ford was but he warmed up to it. Breathing a sigh of relief, finally in the arms of his Y/N, with no plans of letting her go.

They trudged into the woods, conversing on what they witnessed and all the universe they jumped, comparing notes and journals. You proudly showed him yours as you stated “I was just copying you but it became a scrapbook of some sort”. Inside were trinkets from dimensions folded into the paper with drawings and detailed descriptions of things you saw. Ford was more of interested with the folded wanted poster between those pages. He took it out and observed it closely. “Yeah, I became part of their council for a while,” you said which earned a questioning eyebrow raise from your husband. You raised your hands in protest “Well, I didn’t know that fruits were their money! I was hungry”. This made him laugh and it sounded like music to your ears. Mr. All seriousness laughing with you again, everything felt perfect.

Until the familiar space ripping nearby brought you both back to reality. Whipping your heads towards that sound, Ford exclaimed “I’m getting too old for this”. Grabbing your hand he lead you the forest clearing and pulled out his dimension jumper and you followed suit.

“We are now easily trackable since we are together so we need to be extra cautious” Ford explained as you both explore the city-esque universe you landed in. “Do you think we’d ever go back home?” You asked, stopping in your tracks. Ford turned to you “I trust Stan. It might take a while to be honest.” You nodded in respond, still not giving yourself false hope. “But I’m with you Y/N, and anywhere is better when you’re by my side.” His voice was so sincere you can’t help but believe him. You held him interlocking your digits together. His six fingers perfectly hugging your hand as you both jumped into another dimension unprepared but together.

word count: 2.5k words

woop woop first published fic! should i make a part 2?

[geovanag]

Aspects in the synastry chart that are mistaken for love at first sight but reveal themselves over time ☄️

In synastry, certain astrological aspects can initially create a strong romantic attraction, but over time, reveal significant differences between partners that could lead to challenges.

In this article I would like to talk about some aspects that I have noticed in my own synastry.

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ

Venus Square/Opposite Uranus

It can create a dynamic, exciting but unpredictable energy between two people. Over time, however, the tension can become unbearable. There is an instant spark and the relationship can start suddenly or unexpectedly. Uranus finds Venus' charm and love intriguing. The unpredictability in the relationship can be intoxicating for Venus and create a strong initial attraction. Venus feels insecure or uncertain about where they stand in the relationship. In this relationship Venus regularly takes on the role of showing love and care, while Uranus often avoids this, often with a desire to create space for itself, so feelings of neglect or worthlessness are very evident. Uranus can resist Venus' attempts to "settle down" or establish traditional relationship norms. The relationship may become too challenging to sustain, potentially leading to a breakup.

Mars Square/Opposite Neptune

If this aspect forms the main layer of synastry, there is probably too much “idealization” between the two people. The Mars person is drawn to the sensual nature of the Neptune person. Mars might naturally want to move the relationship forward in a clear, decisive manner. However, as time goes on, Mars might feel frustrated by the lack of clarity in the relationship with Neptune. Mars might start to feel that Neptune is elusive or inconsistent. Mars straightforward approach to love and relationships clashes with Neptune’s more subtle, evasive nature. The tension in this aspect often arises from misaligned expectations. Neptune, on the other hand, might feel pressured or overwhelmed by Mars direct approach, leading to further retreat into Neptune’s dreamy, elusive energy. Both partners might struggle with accepting the more mundane or challenging aspects of the relationship, leading to disappointment or disillusionment.

Sun Square/Opposite Saturn

In this relationship, the Sun person may feel that he or she is being molded into a pattern and therefore “the light has gone out”. They may feel that their Saturn person is making them feel that they are never good enough at this point. At first they will realize that Saturn brings stability and discipline into their lives. The Sun person will like this. But over time it may seem as if this is draining their (the Sun person's) energy. Like when they enter a social setting and one of them smiles too much and the other one looks around with a flat expression. Saturn, who doesn't shy away from taking responsibility, can take the initiative but it starts to burden him. He restricts many of the Sun's behaviors for fear of a possible change. Saturn is about the present tense, while the Sun is about the “now”. The Saturn person's control is likely to oppose the Sun person's leadership role. Over time, both parties may start to feel resentment. The Saturn person may resent the Sun person for what they see as irresponsibility or frivolity.

Moon Square/Opposite Mercury

The Moon person may feel that the Mercury person focuses too much on rationality and does not empathize with their emotional experiences, leading to feelings of frustration and emotional neglect. The Moon person may perceive the Mercury person as someone who belittles their feelings. When the Moon person expresses their feelings, they may feel that the Mercury person responds in an overly distant way. The Mercury person, who values clear communication and logical thinking, may feel confused by the intensity of the Moon person's emotions. The Mercury person may see the Moon person as irrational because of his or her excessive use of emotion. The Mercury person may try to communicate sensitively to nurture the Moon person's emotionality, but this will be challenging. The Moon person may feel that by keeping up with Mercury, he/she is becoming callous while using logic.

Venus Square/Opposite Saturn

Saturn's influence can feel cold or distant and can make the Venus person feel rejected or unworthy. They may question whether they are truly loved or valued by the Saturn person. They may feel that they cannot be fully themselves or that they have to conform to the Saturn person's expectations or standards, which can lead to feelings of frustration and emotional suffocation. The Saturn person may perceive the Venus person's needs for love and approval as excessive or demanding. The Saturn person may feel that they need to set limits or impose restrictions. The Saturn person may be afraid, creating distance to protect themselves from being hurt. This aspect can lead to feelings of loneliness and frustration within the relationship. The Venus person may feel rejected, unloved and restricted in their ability to express love. The Saturn person may feel crushed under the responsibility of the relationship and may fear being too vulnerable.

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I just feel “battered” as someone who has experienced all of these aspects in synastry. Remember that although the square - opposite can be difficult, the problems will disappear if both people consciously work on their relationship.

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Take Care,

[hauntedwitch04]

I hate you Black

Regulus Black x reader

Words: about 4.1k words

Warnings: some angst, sexy Reggie and some funny times

Author’s note: Hi everybody! It's so good being back, I missed writing and this is the first one-shot I write in a lot of time, so I'm really grateful for every tiny bit of love you gave me. This is my first time writing for the kinktober, hope you enjoy my writing.

P.s. i don't really now how much is hate fuck this fic, but here we are.

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KINKTOBER -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 1: Hate fucking

To say that Regulus and I do not get along is an understatement.

We have been part of the same group of friends, namely the Marauders, for years now, since both my brother, James, and his brother, Sirius, are best friends, in fact they often consider each other almost brothers, on the contrary however the two of us have not been able to find common ground and usually always end up insulting each other and playing stupid jokes to irritate the other person.

Since our first year at Hogwarts, we have clashed because of our pride and desire to prove ourselves better than the other, and this challenge has continued outside of school, in everyday life.

This party is no different.

Sirius and Remus wanted to inaugurate the new apartment they decided to get, to live together, after being together for almost a year already, and so they threw a party with all their closest friends, including me and the younger Black.

I don't quite remember how I ended up straddling him with my hands around his neck, but I do remember the reason for that choice. Between his various jokes and yet another spilled glass on my favorite shirt because of his "carelessness," although we all know that if anyone is graceful it is him, the moment he mentioned what is now my ex-boyfriend. Just before coming to the party, in fact, that asshole decided to break up with me, telling me that he never actually felt anything really important for me, and that I was merely a fling that lasted too long and that now he actually already has another girlfriend and I was just in the way. A year and a half. We stayed together a year and a half, and he had to say that and turn away without looking back, or without a bit of shame or guilt, he didn't even apologize to me for shamelessly cheating on me. Part of me didn't even want to come to the party, but I love Siri and Remmy too much to let them down, so I took heart and convinced myself that I would have a good time, but at Regulus' words, "Where's your boyfriend? Is he tired of you too?", I saw no more. Smoke began to come out of my ears, my vision turned black, and inside I felt only a single emotion.

I realize what I was doing only after James detaches me from Regulus, while Sirius grabs his brother, and pulls him away from me.

"Are you totally crazy? You could have killed me!" Says Regulus shocked as he holds a hand to his throat, still struggling to breathe.

"Too bad, it will be for next time then." I answer coldly, to go toward the hall to get my coat, while I quickly apologize to the hosts and say I have to go home, because I don't feel too well. Both James and Sirius, Remus and Lily try to stop me, thinking it's because of guilt, but I really don't want them to see me crying and having to explain later that my ex-boyfriend cheated on me and left me, and now I just feel like a pathetic little girl who can't be loved.

I hurry out of the house and immediately get hit by the cold autumn wind, which envelops me like a hug and shakes my hair, making it go over my face, thus tickling my nose. I smile and start walking toward my house, although it is quite far away, in fact I had come with my brother. I try to contain my emotions, but the tranquility and peace of the city at this hour give me enough security to let my tears flow freely down my cheeks. There is not a living soul to judge me, or so I thought.

I hear footsteps approaching behind me, someone is running toward me, so I turn around and see a breathless Regulus Black standing still, leaning on his knees and signaling to me to wait a second.

I try to wipe away my tears so that he can see that I was crying, but it is too late now, because his expression immediately changes and he seems confused by what he is seeing.

"I don't need your stupid excuses, go back to the others and tell them the bitch is not ready to be insulted by you again." I say trying to distract him as I turn and start walking faster, but a hand grabs my shoulder and makes me turn around.

"Are you crying?" Regulus asks, under his breath, as if even he does not believe the scene before him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are as sharp as Sherlock Holmes." I say trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he brings his second hand to my face, and wipes away a couple of tears that had reached my chin.

"If it's something I said, I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't want to come and apologize, they forced me, however, I never wanted to make you cry, I was just playing with you." He continues, not caring what I had said. He looks me straight in the eye and I see his sincerity, and I don't know why I start to cry more. He looks at me unsure of what to do, before hugging me. As we are squeezed in that hug I tell him the real reason I was crying and apologize to him for what I had done earlier at the party. As I finish my story, he pulls away from that hold and looks into my eyes again.

"Hey, he's the asshole, not you. And he's also stupid if he didn't see the magnificent person he had beside him." He tells me firmly and sweetly at the same time.

"Says the boy who has been insulting me since we were eleven years old." I reply sarcastically as I stare into his eyes, and I can't lie to myself. I've always thought Regulus is a handsome boy, but damn, right now he looks like a deity come down to earth to teach us what beauty is.

"Hey I may be an asshole, maybe even a little stupid, but it's not like I'm blind." He continues, smiling at me as he looks at my lips. "You know I think I found a more appropriate way to apologize." He whispers as he moves even closer to my lips.

My brain cannot process the moment, everything seems fuzzy. Its scent, fresh mint, coffee and cigarettes, intoxicates me like a drug, and I can't do anything but screw it up to do what my instinct tells me to do.

"Know that it will not be easy to make it up to you for everything you have done to me. You were very, very mean to me." I whisper before kissing him, tired of that game.

I feel like giving my first kiss for the second time. Our lips chase each other, eating each other, needing each other. I feel my hands run through his hair, while his rests on my hips and draws me to him in a death grip.

We continue kissing, and time seems to stop, even the dry leaves seem to stand still in the air, waiting for our future to be drawn, anxious to see our next move.

Eventually we part, to catch our breath, and a faint laugh escapes from my lips.

"Know that I hate you anyway." I tell him and he can't help but chuckle, before taking on a serious look.

"Would you like to come to my house. You know I'd like to apologize for good, and show you that you've had really bad taste in men so far." He says seductively in my ear.

"You have to be careful what you say Black, because it could backfire on you with this sentence." I reply, trying to hide the emotions it is stirring in me.

"No baby, I'm going to show you how a real man should treat you, and not the idiot you used to date." He continues, whispering on my lips, before leaving a light kiss, as light as a butterfly resting gracefully on a flower.

"Know that this does not take away from the fact that I hate you." I reply, still partly in trance after that kiss.

"This just means that I will have to work harder at apologizing." Regulus replies, before stepping back a little, and removing the scarf around his neck, to give it to me. I didn't even notice that I'm shaking, too engrossed in this moment.

"Come on, let's go to my place, it's not too far." Says the boy, putting an arm on my shoulder, thus blocking any possibility of my thinking with his intoxicating scent for the second time this evening. After a few minutes of walking we arrive in front of a dark door, for which young Black quickly pulls out the key to open it.

Once inside the house, I am amazed at how the entire apartment is furnished. Dark furniture stands out against the green and white walls. Soft lights illuminate the rooms, giving it a cozy atmosphere. Every item is meticulously placed in a studied spot, everything is perfect, every note played with the right pitch to create a wonderful harmony.

I am lost in looking around the room when I feel a pair of hands drawing me toward them.

One hand gently removes my scarf, while another turns me around. In Regulus' eyes I see pure pleasure, and this only creates an unpleasant wet feeling in my panties.... We look at each other for a second before pouncing on each other like hungry prey, moving slowly down the stairs and into the bedroom. He pulls me back until I touch the bed with my knees, then drops me down, pulling away from the kiss. I look at him and see his lips red and swollen as he struggles to catch his breath. His hair is messy from my fingers, yet he has never looked more beautiful to me than in this moment. I watch him slowly approach the button of my jeans like a fierce lion studying its prey, and then with a precise and quick gesture, unbutton my pants. In the blink of an eye these lie on the floor, tossed from some indefinite part of the room. The only thing now separating him from his goal is my underwear, but before he can take the next step, I gently place a foot on his chest and look seductively at him.

"Hold your horses Black, if you want to play with me you have to do it right. One garment each at a time, I lost my pants, now you have to take something off." I say looking at him carefully, and he chuckles at my words.

"You can be really obnoxious Potter, you know that?" He asks wryly as he removes his sweatshirt, revealing his bare chest, since he has no shirt underneath. For a moment I am breathless at that ethereal sight. Her white skin glows in the moonlight entering the room. His physique is muscular but not overly so, I can tell he works out a lot and holds himself, but it's also not excessive. I get flashbacks of seeing him practicing Quidditch at Hogwarts shirtless with sweaty hair in the wind, and immediately I find myself having to make the physical effort to not cum in that same instant.

"I try my best." I respond seductively as I watch him lower himself, going on his knees, getting to be at the same level as my pussy.

"Now if you don't mind, I have a promise to keep: to prove that your asshole ex is nothing compared to me." He says before pouncing on me as if I were a feast. I don't have time to respond because he immediately starts kissing my inner thigh, both from the right and the left until he reaches his booty. Slowly, with his teeth, he grabs my panties, leaving a few wet kisses on my skin and making me shiver, and slowly he slides them all the way down my legs.

It is the most terrible, nerve-wracking, and sexy torture I have ever had to endure.

"I thought you were supposed to make it up to me Black, not make me madder." I say in a voice little louder than a sigh as I feel his hot breath on the center of my pleasure.

"Oh baby, I still have to start apologizing, and get ready because I want to do it right." He says, as he caresses the most intimate part of me with his lips. A second later, pure pleasure invades my every sense as he begins to kiss the lips of my pussy. I feel his tongue caressing me, as my hands wriggle in his hair, drawing him ever closer to the center of my pleasure, and with my eyes around his name like a song, between moans and expletives. I hear him smile at my reaction, and just as I was about to respond rudely to him, he increases my torture by adding a finger, taking it in and out of my opening. A few minutes thus pass, me hovering on the edge of pleasure, just as he looks up and shifts slightly. His mouth is completely wet from my pleasure, while I curse for the missed orgasm.

"You'd better finish what you started Black, because I swear that on the contrary you can distantly forget any chance of me being more generous to you." I say, trying to catch my breath.

"I was just catching my breath for the grand finale." He replies with a small smile, seeing my desperation.

"Go fuck yourself."

"I think that's what we're doing baby. What, I'm too good and you're not used to feeling so much pleasure?" He says smiling again as again, he turns me around kissing my entire thigh.

"By Merlin, how I hate you Black." I gasp, between groans.

"Try to convince yourself of this all you want honey, but we both know that right now your orgasms depend on me." And with that he begins his feast again, with more eagerness, and again, in a few minutes I am again on the brink of absolute pleasure, but this time I manage to go further, and for a moment I feel like I can touch the sky with my finger. I feel the blankets tighten between my fingers as I moan his name, almost screaming it, as if I want the world to know who was responsible for so much pleasure.

A few seconds pass, as I try to regain possession of my body and mind, before he speaks again.

"Fuck, that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He says giggling, before starting to kiss my body again, slowly, savoring every inch. He pulls off my shirt, as I now recovered from all that unexpected pleasure, taking off my bra. I see him staring at my breasts, before teasing my nipples, one with his tongue and one with his fingers. He bites, sucking my breasts, leaving signs of his passage as I try not to lose myself again in that spiral of pleasure.

"Damn, you don't know how long I've wanted to touch them, taste them, mark them as my own." He says in a gasp, before switching nipples and moving on to the other. Meanwhile then I try to distract him by opening his pants, but as soon as I try to touch his dick, he stops and moves my hand away, looking me straight in the eye.

"Tonight is just for you, not for me, now let me continue and make you feel like the goddess you are." At her words I can't help but hold back a sigh of pleasure.

"Now I understand why everyone was falling at your feet in school, you really have a gift for talking to girls." I say, as I feel his lips go up my neck, leaving me biting and hickeys as he passes.

"Too bad the one girl I really wanted did nothing but blow me off and tell me she hated me." She tells me, before kissing me passionately. Somehow I can still taste myself on his lips, or rather in his mouth, as we explore every nook and cranny of it with our tongues.

"Maybe he was telling you that he hated you, because all he could do was wish to fuck you in the broom closet." I answer between kisses as I hear him take off his underpants and pull down his underwear.

For the first time I realize perhaps truly the situation I am in. Our naked bodies, rubbing against each other, dancing a love dance of their own, as we struggle against each other to win.

He chuckles at my words as he moves to kiss me along my arm, while using his hand to reach over to the nightstand to grab a condom and put it on as he counters.

"And I would rather tell you that I hated you than confess that every night I dreamed of fucking you against a wall." He pauses for a moment, and smiles at me before continuing, with that obnoxious grin of his. "Although I would have said you were more of a quickie in the bathroom type."

"It happened only once, and with a Ravenclaw prick who had already done half my year, while I was half-drunk at a party, after watching you stick your tongue half a foot down the throat of a Hufflepuff slut." I confess by looking into his eyes, and I notice that amidst the pleasure now also shines a spark of astonishment. "Now get a move on, though, Black, for now you're all talk and no action." I continue, with an amused little smile.

"Merlin, if you say one more word, I swear I'll plug your mouth with your panties." He says, taking his dick in his hand, aligning it with my entrance.

"Oh you just have to try, assh- Oh my god!" I try to respond, but he blocks me by entering me overbearingly, immediately I feel my body almost leave the earthly world for pleasure. His dick is bigger than I would have expected, and certainly bigger than my ex's. Immediately he seems to touch all the places that give me the most pleasure, and my mind cannot process a concrete thought.

"I hate you Black." This is the only thing I can say as he is still still inside me, making me get used to his size. "I don't think I can do without your dick from now on, and this is all your fault." I continue as he tries to move slowly, in and out of me, as he murmurs a few dirty words under his breath.

"Oh you are adorable baby." He says before kissing my neck again as he increases the force and speed of his thrusts. "But if you really think I would let you go after this time you are crazy. I hate you too you know, I hate the fact that I am now addicted to this tight, hot, wet pussy of yours. Fuck I think I've found heaven." He gasps near my ear. We continue this dance like this, until a few minutes later, we are almost at the height of pleasure.

"Please Reg, don't stop. I'm cumming:" I plead with him, before stifling my continued moans of pleasure, leaving kisses, bites and hickeys on his neck as my hands scratch his muscular back. I feel him stiffen at my touch.

"Me too baby." He gasps, then increases the speed. A few thrusts, and we both reach orgasm.

We remain still for a moment, enjoying that feeling of pleasure and the warmth of the closeness of our bodies. We don't say a word, let silence fill the space between us, before we kiss again.

This time the kiss is different, not passionate and oozing sex like the others, it is more gentle and sweet, as if through that contact we want to express all those repressed feelings kept inside us all these years and that we cannot describe in words.

He moves from on top of me and lies on his side, while still keeping his arms around my waist. I slowly feel fatigue take possession of me as he gets out of bed to head for the bathroom and get a towel with which my private parts, now too sensitive, in fact a shiver runs down my spine and he seeing it apologizes to me.

When he is finished he lies down again beside me and hugs me, making me feel warm and safe. Just before I fall asleep I look into his eyes and manage to say something.

"You're on the right path to forgiveness, but maybe you need to try a little harder." And he can't help but laugh at those words. "I don't hate you that much anyway, I guess." I continue, as I snuggle against his chest.

"Fortunately." He replies. "Because I don't hate you at all, maybe just the opposite I dare say. "

The next morning I wake up after him. Regulus is already out of bed. He is wearing a pair of sweatpants, and he is shirtless. I can tell right away that he has just gotten out of the shower because I can see his wet hair, however, I can hear him talking to someone on the phone. Feeling my eyes on him he turns and sees that I am awake, and he smiles at me.

"Yes Sirius, I promise I didn't say anything stupid." He says with a bored look on his face as he watches me sit up in bed, my hair still tousled from sleep.

"I apologized, very deeply last night, but I may have to do it one more time to make sure you understand what I meant." She continues to talk to her brother as she gives me a wink and immediately I feel my cheeks go hot from what she said.

"Yes, yes. I love you too. Bye Siri, see you later." He greets his brother as he turns around and then sets the phone down on one of the pieces of furniture next to him, and there I realize all the marks I left on him last night. In the night we then woke up and made love a couple more times. Just thinking about it I feel my pussy getting all wet, even just remembering all that happened.

"I was going to make you breakfast before you woke up but since you are already awake I would suggest you take a shower while I make you breakfast. Is that okay with you?" He asks me, and I can't find my voice to answer him, so I smile and nod. He smiles back, leaving me a kiss on my forehead and then goes downstairs to cook.

I stay in bed for a second and letting out a sigh I realize perhaps for the first time that I hated Regulus Black so much, that I ended up falling in love with him, since the line is so thin that for a long time you can think you are hovering between the two, and only when you land do you realize that you slipped into one of the two worlds long before.

BONUS

Remus watches Sirius talk to his brother on the phone as he asks him if he finally apologized to little Potter. Once the call is over Sirius puts the phone down and looks at his boyfriend.

"They fucked." Remus says, before sipping coffee from his favorite mug.

"They got laid." Sirius confirms, laughing, while Lily, who had stayed over with her boyfriend James, sighs with relief.

"Finally, the situation was becoming unbearable. By now all you could do every time was expect them to jump at each other's throats with a knife or fuck in the guest bathroom." Lily says as she looks at James, who has a horrified look on his face.

"Hey, we're still talking about my little sister!" He says, looking at his friends and his girlfriend.

"Look at it this way, at least now we're really brothers." Try proposing Sirius.

"And probably uncles, too." Remus and Lily say in unison.

No one can hold back a laugh seeing James' horrified face.

TAGLIST (Kinktober special)

@samanddeansannoyingsis @forsiriussake @thedogisontopofyhecarmom @estrellademiel @ohemgeewhat @kidsaproblem @camelliaflow3r @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @hi-my-name-is-riley @morganalatina21 @nightfiress @shodowbane09 @theyluvtrinity21 @supernatural-lvr

[writeriguess]

katsuki x female reader where she is usually so closed off behind sassy act but becomes vulnerable for the first time around him when she has drunken her worries away

You were always a force to be reckoned with, strutting through the halls with a confidence that rivaled the best of them. Your quick wit and sharp tongue kept most people at arm's length, a strategy you perfected over the years. It was easier to hide behind the sass than to let anyone see what was really underneath.

Especially around him.

Katsuki Bakugo was a different breed of intensity, someone who met your fire with fire. The few times you exchanged words, it was a clash of egos, both too proud to back down. But despite the frequent verbal sparring, there was something about him that lingered in the back of your mind, an unspoken connection that neither of you had ever acknowledged.

And tonight, it all came crashing down.

The dim lights of the bar flickered above you as you nursed the last remnants of your drink, the alcohol warming your insides and dulling the sharp edges of your mind. You weren’t much of a drinker, but tonight... tonight you had too much on your mind. The pressure of hero work, the expectations, the facade you’d kept up for so long—it all became too heavy.

You let out a sigh, staring into the glass as though the answers to your problems were swirling at the bottom. The buzz in your head softened your usual defenses, and for once, you didn’t feel the need to be so guarded.

That’s when you felt it—his presence. Even in your haze, you could sense Bakugo's intense aura as he approached, his eyes locking onto you from across the bar. His usual scowl was in place, though there was something different in his expression, something almost concerned.

"Tch, what the hell are you doing?" His voice was gruff as he slid into the seat next to you.

You looked up at him, eyes slightly unfocused. "Bakugo..." you slurred his name, barely recognizing the softness in your own voice. "Just... drinking. Relaxing. Like a normal person."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "You? Relaxing? Yeah, right. What's really going on?"

You scoffed, though the sound was half-hearted. "Nothing you need to worry about, okay? I'm fine."

But the second the words left your mouth, you felt your carefully constructed walls begin to crumble. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening your grip, or maybe it was the way Bakugo's intense gaze seemed to see right through you. Either way, the façade was slipping, and for the first time, you didn't have the strength to hold it up.

"I'm not fine," you whispered, voice barely audible over the noise of the bar.

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t interrupt. He was waiting.

You swallowed hard, trying to pull yourself together, but it was too late. The vulnerability that you'd spent so long hiding was bubbling to the surface, and there was no stopping it.

"I’ve been pretending... for so long," you continued, your voice thick with emotion. "Pretending like everything's fine, like I have it all under control, but... I don’t. It’s exhausting, Katsuki." You rarely used his first name, but it slipped out naturally, your usual barriers completely gone. "I’m so tired."

For a moment, Bakugo was silent, his gaze unwavering as he processed your words. Then, without warning, he stood up and grabbed your wrist, pulling you up from the barstool.

"Come on," he muttered, his voice softer than usual.

"Where are we—" you started, but he cut you off.

"Outside. You need air."

You let him lead you out of the crowded bar, the cool night breeze hitting your face as you stepped onto the empty street. Bakugo didn’t let go of your wrist until you both reached a quiet spot away from the noise. He turned to face you, his expression serious.

"You're an idiot if you think you're the only one who feels that way," he said bluntly, though his tone lacked its usual bite. "Everyone’s struggling. Being a hero isn't easy, and you’re not some invincible machine. You're allowed to be tired."

You stared at him, your mind struggling to process his words. It wasn’t like him to be so... understanding.

"I just... I don’t know how to let anyone in," you admitted, your voice small. "If I do, I’ll fall apart."

"Then fall apart," he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "You think being strong means never breaking? That’s bullshit. Real strength is getting back up after you fall."

Your chest tightened at his words, and before you could stop yourself, tears welled up in your eyes. You hated crying, especially in front of people, but right now, you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

"I'm scared, Katsuki," you whispered, the tears spilling over. "I'm scared of failing, of not being enough."

Bakugo’s expression softened, just a fraction, and he stepped closer. "You're enough," he said firmly, his voice low. "You’re more than enough. And if you fall, I’ll be there to pick you up. Got it?"

His words broke something inside you, and before you knew it, you were burying your face in his chest, the sobs you had been holding in for so long finally escaping. Bakugo didn’t push you away or make some snide comment. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as you cried.

For the first time in forever, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable. And for the first time, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone.

"I got you," Bakugo muttered into your hair, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. "I’ve always got you."

And in that moment, you believed him.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: Okay this is going to be inaccurate so some people but this is really just me rambling loll- very much self insert but we’re leaving this as x reader instead of selfship lol Here’s my masterlist!

Warning(s): Cursing, reader is bicultural (indian/south asian), Bakugou is DOWN BAD, reader is a little insecure about where they fit in, f!reader, just fluff :)

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

•────•°•❀•°•──── ʟɪᴘꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ ꜱᴛᴀɪɴꜱ───•°•☁︎•°•────•

When Katsuki first sees you in traditional wear, he’s speechless.

Like, face red, palms sweaty, jaw on the floor speechless. And most of all, he can’t get his damn eyes off of you.

You’re just so…perfect.

Clashing colors, vibrant and powerful hues that shouldn’t work together but always do- a strong believer that it’s the person that pulls it off.

You were a prime example of it.

South Asia was known for their colors, such a vibrancy was heavy in their culture and it was something Bakugou admired- considering not only did they align with him fashion tastes, but his culinary ones as well.

Not to mention his drop dead gorgeous girlfriend.

You, on the other hand, weren’t so sure.

You were bi-cultural, both of your parents having grown up and raised in South Asia, and ended up immigrating to Japan, starting your family there, where you were born. Your whole life was a confusing maze of figuring out where you belonged, not quite Japanese due to your roots and the household you were used to, but also not quite South Asian due to your ties to the country you belonged in.

You loved your family and your culture- it shaped a huge part of who you are and who you’d be in the future - while also extremely content with you life in Japan, but consequently, you always felt outcasted and insecure about your differences.

No one really noticed, and you didn’t mention it, feeling as though it was smooth sailing so far.

Today however, you hit your first roadblock.

Your mother was inviting family friends over for a large reunion - an occasion that required you to get changed in your dorm at UA and get picked up by the gates.

As if waiting outside in your flashy outfit wasn’t awkward enough- your parents had also invited Katsuki to join you. You’d never really introduced him to your culture and basically your life outside of school- and deep down, you wondered if he thought it was weird.

You really hoped he didn’t.

“Woah.” is all he says when you step out of your dorm room, bag in hand.

You smile nervously. “Is that a good woah or bad woah?”

The blonde looks flustered, vermillion eyes taking over your body as if trying to commit the sight of you to memory, savoring and absorbing all of your beauty.

“Fuck- how come ya never show me this, huh?” he breathes, finally snapping out of his trance and stepping closer to you.

You blush, not wanting to look at him, squirming under his intense gaze. “Good woah then?” you ask meekly, internally relieved that he liked it.

“Even better.” He mumbles, caressing your cheek before pressing a loving kiss to your lips, gentle but intense as if he wanted to transfer ever single feeling he had about you through the exchange - kissing you like it was the last one he’d ever give.

When you finally fall apart, you’re the one left breathless now.

“Kats-“ you start, but he cuts you off.

“Yer too perfect for this world.” he mutters softly, and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach.

”You’re not to bad yourself.” You smile softly, bringing your thumb up to swipe at the lipstick that had transferred over to his lips.

You frown playfully. “How come you pull over this shade even better than I do? Stupid model genes.” You pout, and your boyfriend scoffs, swiping at his mouth, ears bright red.

“Tch- shut up dummy. Ya pull it off just fine.”

[innerfare]

Law’s Type 

Summary: A list of headcanons describing Law's ideal type

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Someone from either the North Blue or a winter island in the Grand Line, someone who likes the cold and is more than content going long periods of time without sunlight. Also, someone who enjoys hot chocolate enough to get it for you both because he really wants to drink it but also doesn’t want to admit that he likes it because he doesn't think it's manly, so if he could claim you forced him to indulge in it, that’d be awesome. Marshmallows are an extra bonus, but he won’t eat them if you call any attention to how much he enjoys them. (I'm imagining Law with his cheeks stuffed full of marshmallows, send help.)  

A nocturnal creature for sure, just like him. Someone who prefers stargazing to cloud watching.

Someone educated, if not in medicine than in another field (this man played it cool but was sweating buckets in the presence of Dr. Nico Robin). Imagining a marine biologist with a rebellious streak joining the Heart Pirates to conduct research in the Grand Line/New World and give the middle finger to the World Government along the way; possibly a devil fruit eater (an algae fruit could be super cool), definitely a source of headaches for Dr. Law. 

The sort of person who says, "yes Captain," or, "of course, Doctor," with a sweet smile only to immediately disobey.

Kind of random but has a low-key thing for women with pretty hands and feet. It’s not a fetish, he just really likes soft hands and dainty feet, especially with well-kept nails (he’s super into blue nail polish, if anyone even cares). Really likes when a girl wears sandals, especially if they have high heels. Also has dreams about a woman slowly removing a glove, tugging it off finger by finger, and placing her bare hand on his cheek. 

More generally, dreams about a woman who's an odd clash of demure and edgy. (Is this about Nico Robin? Hmmm.)

Given that this man is both touch starved and repressed/suffering from severe trust issues, he would need someone who is willing to initiate the lion's share of physical affection, at least in the early stages of the relationship. He wants it so bad but is too scared to ask. When he does initiate, he typically only initiates things you've initiated, matching you. The exception is the first time he caught you by the hand and pressed a warm kiss into your palm; he's such a hand kisser it's unreal.

Would want someone who could cook, not for him but with him. He actually really enjoys planning out what to cook, going to the market and picking out ingredients, and putting it all together. He’s meticulous in his meal planning and wants someone who enjoys doing it with him. Also, someone who can teach him some new recipes. And someone who can make his favorite: onigiri (not the plum kind, though; he hates the plum kind).

Someone who can teach him new things in general. He enjoys learning and is attracted to people who can teach him. And if your passion for that subject shines through while you're teaching it, even better.

Also wants someone who can be sweet, but not in a suffocating sort of way. He really values his independence and would want a person who feels the same. 

Okay, I’m just describing Nico Robin. 

Someone with a slightly morbid sense of humor, someone who doesn’t get squeamish easily. 

And I’m describing Nico Robin again. 

Someone who admires his coin collection and the handful of action figures and comics in his cabin. More specifically, someone who doesn't let him put his own interests down as dumb and/or childish and, in fact, hypes him up, however awkward the positive reinforcement might make him at first. Someone who buys him a new action figure without asking.

Really wants someone who’s neat, organized, and collected, but is also calm like he is, like a very casual type A personality. He isn’t an opposites attract sort of guy, though he’d need someone at least a little more relaxed and open than him or else the entire relationship would probably just be a stalemate. 

It’s not just that he’s not much of a talker, he can get a little overwhelmed by heart-to-hearts, even if you’re the one doing all the talking, so if he met someone who likes to write and receive notes and, God forbid, actual love letters, he’d fall fast and hard. Your relationship initially blooms with the two of you writing notes in the margin of each others' work, which turns into Law drawing cartoons and you leaving dumb little jokes and eventually culminates in love notes.

Also has a thing for pretty handwriting. He probably keeps a box of things you've written because he's so obsessed.

Someone who is friends with Bepo, but more importantly, someone who respects Bepo and doesn’t treat him like a pet (so important!!!). Respect for Bepo might be more important to Law than respect for Law himself.  

He has a low-key competitive streak, and he’d definitely fall for someone who could bring it out. Someone who has a touch of Straw Hat crackhead energy. 

Someone who can be gentle and caring. Someone with a nurturing side. Someone who, weirdly enough, reminds him of Cora. Someone with a strong moral compass despite probably being a pirate.

Finally, someone who is forgiving of his flaws, someone who is patient, someone who is willing to wait for him to open up and get comfortable, someone who doesn’t get annoyed if he spends the week hiding in his office because it’s all a little too much at the moment, someone who doesn’t ask him to put his book down and pay attention (his ideal is you playing with his hair while he reads). Someone who is on his side. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[sweatyracoon]

Their Favorite Part of You! Skz! Reactions

A/n: They all seem so sweet when it comes to affection, and it made me want to write this. I love them so much. HYUNG LINE!

Summary: Their favorite part of your body, both in and out of bed ;)

Warnings: Fluff, compliments, pet names, suggestive, smut? Language, insecurities, silly boys

Bangchan: Friend!Reader - Back

It’s no secret that Chan likes hugs. He hugs everyone around him, even staff. But when he hugged you, he preferred to be behind you during the embrace. He loves the way he can feel your back flex when you squirm against him. You’re a shy person, and he loves seeing your ears flush at his touch.

Everyday, he wrapped his arms around you when he was losing motivation or was annoyed, just to be picked back up again when he finally feels you relax as he tightens his grip. You were soft on his hard body, calming his nerves.

In Bed!Chan - Your wrists

He loved grabbing your wrists, either to pin them, or to place them on his body.

He would hold them, grounding himself to not be too harsh. Wrists were small and sensitive, so to be sure he couldn’t hurt you, he would put most of his focus on them, which he didn’t mind. It helped ease him knowing it would be difficult to hurt you this way.

He would bring your hands to his pecks, slowly drifting downwards until your palm rested on his bulge.

“Oh, please, babe…” He moaned, feeling your hand rock against him. “Don’t tease…”

Lee know: Friend!Reader - Thighs

He loved that when you stood, your legs looked so thin. They were sharpened pencils, frail but strong. He thought it suited you. But when you sat down next to him for the first time, his eyes widened, and all he could do was stare.

The fat of your thighs pushed against the chair, causing them to widen, naturally. Lee knows did the same, but he still was shocked seeing it happen to you. Your thighs were much larger than he thought.

After that, he had often welcomed you to sit in his lap, wanting to feel the softness of your flesh against his own. Not in a dirty way. He was curious.

When you finally gave into his request, he relished in the weight that pressed against his meaty legs, feeling secure. He kneaded the fat of your thighs while talking to one of the guys next to him. It just felt natural. It didn’t even bother you.

While walking past each other, he would even pinch your thighs just to see you yelp. He loved getting those reactions from you, nd it quickly became his favorite sound.

In bed!Lee Know - Thighs

Of course, it is the same. He would love kneading your thighs during an intense make out session, swallowing your whimpers. He loved it when you squirmed away when he grabbed too hard. It didn’t hurt you, it just felt too good.

He loved seeing the way your skin moved when he undressed you. The pressure moving it in a way that water does at a sudden impact.

He loved licking up your thighs, leaving hickeys and finger imprints, kissing every freckle and beauty mark, swallowing every bit of you he could.

He loved controlling your movement from your thighs, moving them however he wanted. You never fought, knowing of his fetish.

He loved masturbating with your thighs, and loved seeing his cum glisten on them. Breathing heavily, he would look you dead in the eye, and move down, licking his mess clean with his warm tongue.

Changbin: Friend!Reader - Hair

He loved seeing your hair bounce when you moved. It was so majestic, he couldn’t help but stare. Even when you spoke to him, he never made eye contact, looking at how your hair shined at the harsh lightning in the studio. He loved seeing it sparkle.

When you turned towards a sound, it was almost like your hair was waving at him, making him smile internally.

When you finally dyed it from your natural color, he was enamored. The peachy color clashed against your skin in the nicest way, showcasing your inner beauty. The color caught his eye always, and he could recognize you within a crowd just from it alone.

He was obsessed.

Months after realizing he was in love with your hair, he finally asked to feel it, your hair now a lavender shade.

“Sure,” You answered with a kind smile.

He was super giddy, happy to finally feel his weakness.

And it was so soft. He wrapped multiple strands around two of his digits, his eyes trained on the actions his hands were doing. He didn’t was to mistakenly pull, so he was slow.

“You look so happy, Bin,” you said, grinning. His face turned red immediately.

“Shut up,”

In bed!Changbin - Your face

He loves holding your face as he kisses you. When he’s fucking you into the mattress or the countertop. He loves seeing your expressions, the way your nose scrunches when he teases you. The way your eyes tighten when he flicks your sensitive buds. How your mouth opens in a silent scream when he finishes inside you.

He could cum from that alone, without even being touched.

But he loves touching you, especially when you’re making those faces. He sometimes even shoves his fingers into your open mouth, moaning as you close your lips, obediently sucking on them.

Hyunjin: Friend!Reader - Eyes

It doesn’t even matter if you’re talking to him directly or not, this man will just stare deep into your soul. He loves the color of your eyes, and the gold specks that line your iris. Walking art, if you ask him.

He has tried many times to replicate it while painting, but without the real model in front of him, and no photos to copy, he was lost. Thirteen canvases later, he gave up, now looking at the many eyes that stared back at him. None of them were familiar. That’s how he knew he failed.

Minho saw these paintings and sent a few to you, hoping to tease Hyunjin. You didn’t tell the ferret resembling man, not wanting to embarrass him. Instead, you asked him,

“Hey? Do you paint people?”

He looked at you oddly, “Yeah…? Why?”

“Wanna paint me?”

He immediately got to work. You were standing in front of him, so close that he could see every freckle and blemish. He was going to paint a portrait.

In bed!Hyunjin - Hands

He loved holding your hands in bed. It reminded him that you were truly there. He saw you as a goddess/god, and relished in your presence.

You always made sure to squeeze every once in a while, seeing Hyunjin blissed out so early on. It was a system that just seemed to fall in place. It was reassuring.

Hyunjin loved it when you rose him, tilting his head back with light moans. His right hand held your waist, helping you move while the other grasped your hand, squeezing it so hard to ground himself. He didn’t want to lose himself with you. He wanted to feel you fully.

Your hands helped him do just that.

[anxious-witch]

Actually, as a queer person, Edwin Payne is so important to me. Him experiencing such harsh bullying he quite literally dies for it, because he is gay. His time in Hell, partially spent thinking he deserves to be there because of who he is, and enduring, until he realizes "there is nothing I could done to have warrant this much suffering for simply existing" and then getting himself out of there.

How that's such a powerful metaphor. How you have to accept the fact that you don't deserve the pain for simply existing snd how the first time around, you have to get out of there on your own. You have ti get out and find a way to form connections again. To learn to trust people again and to trust them to accept you when you are ready to come out.

How his relationships with other queer people aren't perfect, because everyone has their own issues and a lot of the times, those clash when you first start dating. Cat King trying to keep him to himself, Monty wanting a fairytale and then ending up being someone Edwin didn't feel like he knows at all. And yet. They were all doing their best. I think it's even more powerful because Edwin realizes they were all doing their best.

When he talks to Simon is Hell and Simon asks: "Do you think it has to be torture? Being the way that we are?" And Edwin's resolute: "Listen to me. It does not. If you punish yourself, eveywhere becomes Hell"

At this point, Edwin's endeavors with men have ended quite disastrously. Monty betrayed him, and his last meeting with the Cat King in the forest ended om very rough terms too. He didn't even confess to Charles at this point, so there is a very real fear of him ruining their friendship with his feelings.

And yet, Edwin doesn't say it's torture. Doesn't say it's messy and painful and confusing or that he regrets it. Because yes, opening yourself up to affection, both that of others and giving your own away, is always going to be difficult and messy. But Edwin owns it. He is basically saying "I don't regret it. I have loved/liked/had affections for people and they gave me the same in return and it wasn't perfect, but I wouldn't take it back".

Also him being a late bloomer as compared to Charles and Crystal, the way queer people so often don't experience romance until later in life, because we take time to not only figure ourselves out, but also to be in a position where it is safe for us to love someone in that way.

Just!!! Edwin Payne is such an amazing representation and he means sm to me