#though i guess it traces back to them at the end of the day for never letting me develop friendships

[cosmowgyral]

With You through every Season ~

(5th Anniversary Story Event - Me and You, Always)

▪︎ Gilbert von Obsidian

this is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. creative liberties have been taken. all content belongs to cybird. reblogs are appreciated but do not repost. hope you enjoy!

~epilogue

--flashback--

It was one winter—colder than any in recent years.

Albert: Gil, think you can drink this?

Gilbert: This... is alcohol?

Albert: Who knows.

Gilbert: I’m a kid, you know.

Albert: I’m still a kid too.

Gilbert: Then we really shouldn’t, right?

Albert: You’re a good boy, Gil.

Gilbert: Why did you bring alcohol?

Albert: Don’t you know? In our country, there’s a tradition of drinking celebratory alcohol on New Year’s.

Gilbert: Huh, is it New Year’s today?

Albert: Nope, that was days ago.

Albert: You’ve been burning up with fever for a while, so I guess it hasn’t sunk in.

Albert: How’s your body holding up?

Gilbert: I’m okay… So it’s already a new year, huh?

Albert: I was really looking forward to welcoming the new year with you, you know.

Gilbert: …Albert, you’re always like this

Gilbert: You don’t have to care so much about me.

Albert: But I want to enjoy the seasons with you, Gil.

Gilbert: In Obsidian, the seasons barely even exist, right?

Gilbert: And yet… you showed me flowers in spring, taught me how to stargaze in summer…

Gilbert: In autumn, you brought all kinds of delicious food… and now in winter, you brought me this celebratory drink.

Gilbert: You don’t have to go out of your way just because I stay shut up in this room.

Albert: I’m doing it because I want to.

Albert: When the seasons pass, it makes you feel the flow of time, right?

Albert: You’re growing, little by little… I want you to feel like you’re really alive.

Gilbert: ….

Albert: By the way, what I brought today isn’t actually alcohol—it’s just juice.

Albert: The real celebratory drink can wait until we’re adults.

Gilbert: …Yeah, you’re right

Gilbert: Once I’m grown up, I’ll be able to drink too… and probably go outside a lot more.

Albert: Yeah. You’ll definitely get better, and you’ll be running around out there in no time.

Albert: When that time comes, take in the seasons with your whole body. Until then, I’ll keep bringing them to you.

Albert: You need to live, Gil.

Gilbert: Yeah!

--flashback ends--

There used to be seasons.

But corruption and deceit scraped away my human senses—

Even when I was finally able to go outside, my body no longer registered the shifts in temperature.

Or perhaps… the beast in me forced myself not to feel them.

Like a birthday, it became a memory I didn’t want anyone to tarnish.

I sealed it away carefully, so it could never be touched again—

At least, that's what I thought.

Emma: Gil... are you alright?

Gilbert: …nn..

Emma’s voice scatters the fragments of the past.

(Huh… was I… asleep?)

We came to the ballroom to watch the first sunrise of the new year.

But by the time I realize it, the sun is already high in the sky, shining down on us.

Emma: I’m glad. You’re awake.

Gilbert: …No, I’m not.

The moment I notice I’m lying in Emma’s lap, I give up on sitting up and bury my face against her stomach instead.

(Ah, right… I got sleepy because of the alcohol.)

(I thought I’d picked something as mild as possible, but… maybe I should’ve just swapped it for juice.)

Back in the old Obsidian, drinking celebratory alcohol was basically suicide for me.

But now, there’s not a single trace of an assassin's presence.

Emma: Roderic prepared some water for you. Would you like it?

Gilbert: ……I’ll take it.

(It’s not like the alcohol’s still affecting me that much, though.)

As I tilted my head back to take the glass, it was snatched away at the last moment.

Then, for some reason, Emma started drinking the water herself—

A wave of déjà vu hit me.

(Ahh, even my little rabbit’s turned into a bad girl now.)

A shadow fell across my face, and her lips gently met mine.

When I obediently opened my mouth, cool water trickled down my throat.

(Though, maybe she’s forgetting I’m the real villain here.)

Just as she began to pull away, looking satisfied, I slipped a hand behind her head

I explored her mouth with my tongue, determined to steal every last drop.

The heat from our tangled tongues felt stronger than any heater, like it alone could blow away the chill of winter.

Emma: Haa... that was too much...

Gilbert: You’re the one who started it.

She looked away as our lips parted, still connected by a thin thread of saliva.

Her ears, even redder than when she drank, tickled the heart of the villain in me.

Gilbert: I don’t think I’ve had enough water yet.

Emma: The glass is right here.

Gilbert: But you’re the one who started it.

Emma: ...I can’t do this anymore.

Gilbert: Why not?

When I sat up, Emma, now kneeling, pulled my head into her arms.

Pressed against my ear was the rapid thudding of her heartbeat.

Emma: Do you understand now?

Gilbert: Nope, I didn’t get anything.

Emma: Huh?

Gilbert: One more time.

Emma: ...That's right, I forgot. You're a bad man, Gil.

Gilbert: Ahaha, finally realized it?

(...Thanks to you, I remembered the seasons.)

(The seasons are a symbol that life goes on—a sign that I’m alive.)

(So long as you’re here, I guess that means I’ll keep on living too.)

Emma took in another mouthful of water and, looking shy, pressed her lips to mine again.

It was the moment another seasonal tradition was added to our story.

[Chapter 4] [Masterlist]

[that-stanford-girlie-writes]

Dean Winchester x Nephilim!Reader x Sam Winchester

a/n⋮ i was just really craving some sam and dean the other day. i figured, “i could take them both at the same time!” (lie. BUT i wanted them at the same time soooo) i wrote this in a non-wincest way. the bros ain’t doing shit to each other. reader is getting all the attention. it took a couple days to write though, cuz i wanted everything to be perfect! yes, it says nephilim!reader. it’s not fully necessary to the story, but i felt it should be mentioned cuz a little bit happens! ALSO. if i tagged you and you don’t like reading smut, LET ME KNOW. i don’t want to make people uncomfortable. OR, if you don’t like this pairing? LET ME KNOW. please. i don’t want people getting uncomfy.

word count⋮ 1346

tags⋮ smut. (let’s just say sam and dean really fill your holes.)

“…And that’s why we don’t even try to look for those,” Sam mumbles. His hands run up your sides, and you play with his hair. “Because not even Dean could kill it.”

“Maybe I could,” you giggle. You don’t Hunt, but it doesn’t stop you from joking.

“Yeah, because you’re a horrifying force of nature,” says a gruff voice from the other side of the room. Dean’s salty that you’re paying more attention to Sam than him; they’ve always competing for your attention. You always end up in one of their beds, but despite the agreement of sharing you, they don’t really like it all that much.

You know your boys are protective of you. They’re more comfortable when you’re in their beds where they can see you. That’s why you don’t Hunt.

You laugh at Dean’s comment, looking over your shoulder to see him angrily chewing on a burger as he squints at the computer. “Sam, I can’t read this shit. How about I get my girl and you research?”

“I researched all morning. I get time with my sweet little angel,” he says, his nose touching yours before pressing his lips to yours. Your fingers tangle in Sam’s hair, your lips moving hard against his. He nips your bottom lip, earning a gasp from you and using that moment to push his tongue into your mouth.

He explores your mouth, his tongue dancing with yours. You move closer, swallowing his groan as you shift on top of his bulge.

His hands caress your sides, and you giggle when you feel another pair of hands undoing your flannel, revealing your bra, and his lips on your neck. Dean’s always been needy, especially when it comes to you.

Dean’s fingers trace your anti-possession tattoo over your heart, sending a shiver down your spine. Your lips break away from Sam’s and your head falls back on Dean’s shoulder as Sam rolls his hips under you, letting out a breathless moan.

Dean’s fingers dip under your bra, squeezing your tit, and Sam’s fingers clench around your hips… But then there’s an alarm sounding off.

Which makes all three of you still.

Because who the fuck is at the Bunker door?

Nobody even knows it exists.

Cas had been MIA for months, and he would just fly in.

“Sam. Take her to her room,” Dean growls, grabbing a gun.

Sam quickly nods and picks you up, carrying to your room bridal style.

—

About half an hour later, already fucked nasty and riding Sam’s cock again, does Dean come to your room. He’s covered head to toe in blood, not even caring that you’re riding his little brother.

“Everything’s dealt with,” he grumbles, pressing his lips to your neck as he palms a breast.

“What was it?” Sam asks, fully composed. You wouldn’t guess that someone was riding him and letting out pretty little moans with the formality of his answer.

“Angel.”

You look at Dean, biting your lip as you turn your head, but he wasn’t talking to you. His eyes are locked on his little brother’s. He killed an angel.

“Fuck,” Sam grumbles. “They’re probably-”

You nod. They were looking for you. The daughter of Lucifer and his first demon, Lilith.

“Which is why we’re keeping you safe, sweetheart,” Dean whispers in your ear before stripping out of his clothes.

Sam lifts you off his cock, spinning you so your back is to him. He plants you down once more, groaning as your ass shimmies on his lower stomach as you bend over just a bit.

Dean kneels on the bed, stroking his own cock lightly. He chuckles darkly as your gaze zeroes in on the pink flesh of the head, pearly precum bubbling from the tip. You lick your lips, letting out a yelp when Sam smacks your ass, forcing you to buck your hips.

“You want my cock, pretty girl?” Dean teases.

You nod, chewing on your lip.

“Use your words, baby,” Sam whispers, his voice right next to your ear.

“P-please,” you whisper, voice hitching as you wiggle on Sam’s dick, the head hitting your cervix just right. It’s no secret that you’re a mess, but cockwarming—especially with Sammy—always makes you even more needy.

“Please what, sweetheart?”

“Please let me suck your cock, Dean,” you whine.

“Atta girl,” he whispers before shoving his cock in your mouth.

Your tongue swirls over the head, lapping up the precum as your hand strokes whatever doesn’t fit in your mouth. You hear him shudder, and you feel Sam slide out of you, which leads your pussy feeling empty (but full of his cum) and allows you to sit on all fours on the bed while you take Dean in.

Dean’s hand finds the back of your throat, forcing himself down you. Tears sting your eyes, but you quickly blink them back as you take him in.

What you’re not expecting, however, is for a pair of large hands to spank your ass as a tongue runs through your wet folds. Sam’s always been greedy with your pussy.

You moan around Dean’s cock when you feel Sam move under you, his tongue flitting at your clit as his long fingers pump into you. Dean fists your hair, dragging your mouth away from his cock as he smashes his lips to yours.

“D-Dean?” you pant.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he growls.

“…Can you come inside me?”

His restraint snaps. “Sammy, move,” he growls, moving around to your backside. Sam moves to your front.

“Hey, angel,” he smiles, fingers tangling in your hair. He smirks as your hands fly for his cock, groaning as you squeeze it when Dean’s hand smacks your ass hard, thrusting into you.

“I’m gonna mark you up real fuckin’ good,” Dean smirks.

Sam smiles down at you when your tongue runs up the vein along the side of his twitching shaft. Your eyes don’t leave his until he, too, takes your throat and forces himself down.

Your boys are so similar and yet so different, and they don’t even see it.

From behind you, you can hear skin slapping against skin as Dean fucks into your weeping cunt. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you moan around Sam’s cock. However, that doesn’t stop Sam from forcing your head down more.

As Dean keeps thrusting in and out, you feel yourself getting close to the edge. Your hands start stroking Sam’s cock even faster, your tongue swirling around the head even more. He gets the message, tapping your shoulder three times to signal he understands.

Dean’s voice is close to your ear the next time you hear him. “Baby, you ready for us?” he whispers.

You whimper, Sam’s shaft muffling the noise, but they both understand. Dean slams his hips into yours quicker, and Sam forces your head down at a faster rate.

You scream around Sam when you reach climax, your vision going spotty and your wings projecting a large shadow on the walls. You feel the vein under your tongue throb as your mouth is coated with the younger brother’s seed, and the older brother’s fills you up shortly after.

Dean slowly pulls out when you take your mouth off of Sam’s dick with a pop. You swallow Sam’s cum, and Dean gently pulls you to lay back on the bed.

Sam comes around to one side, Dean on the other. You feel Sam’s arms wrap around your middle from behind as Dean lets you rest your ear on his heart.

All three of you try to catch your breath. It’s no secret you weren’t expecting this today. But you’re not at all disappointed.

Because you have your boys, in your bed, and they helped you feel good. They’ll always worship you, and they’ll hold you when things get rough.

“I love you both,” you whisper.

Dean presses a kiss to your forehead and Sam presses one to your shoulder as they whisper “I love you”s back to you.

And you doze off, all cares in the world gone, even if for a split moment.

Taglist

@cevans-is-classic

@peoplewatching-notstalker

@meeshsen

@shouldntyoubeinthewoodssomewhere

@lordofanguish

@valdelion

@pansaremykryptonite

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Sea Monster x Reader

In the spirit of Mermay, I come to you with a slightly different approach: an octopus hybrid, dwelling in the dark depths of ancient waters. :) Hopefully close enough to the sea monster you imagined, @wally0117

Content: gender neutral reader, male yandere, monster romance, reader likes sharks (a lot); inspired by The Shape of Water and My Octopus Teacher; photo from Whalebone Magazine

He’s always been aware of humans, naturally. Observed them from the beginnings of time, from the very first rudimentary attempt of a boat that crossed his waters. Though he can only guess how these creatures exist, how they breathe, how they move. What arrives in his depths is always a corpse of some sort. Bloated, decaying carcasses, rarely intact, whether chipped by fish or by time. Everything else is left to his imagination.

Until today. The fish are restless, the currents are stronger. Something must be happening above, stringing him along curiously. His many legs sway in tandem, opening and closing, as he investigates the source of interest. His pale white eyes narrow to a mere squint, unused to the light of the surface levels. At last, he finds it: a human.

Yet this one is unusual. Intact - save for the bleeding wound - and unlike the washed-out, cadaveric blue tint he’s normally accustomed to. He notices a twitch of the limb and it dawns on him: this one is still alive.

You wake up with a violent cough, thrusting out the leftover liquid that had invaded your lungs earlier. You clearly remember drowning, so how did you end up on shore again? The answer reveals itself rather quickly: a monstrous creature, albeit humanoid for the most part. The upper half resembles a man, but the torso ends in thick, enormous tentacles, now flopped onto the sand, surrounding your body. You search for the creature’s face, framed by translucent tendrils that seem to replace what you’d expect as hair.

“Thank you”. He scans your features and remains silent. Does he even understand human speech? After a moment of consideration, he looks ahead, surveying the water, then returns to you, giving you a nudge. He most likely wants to know how you ended up in that situation to begin with. “That’s, well…”

Conveniently enough, the monster has brought you back to your little camp, so you reach for your backpack and pull out a book. Of course, no words can ever replace the image itself. With renewed enthusiasm, you open your encyclopedia and turn it towards the man, showing him a photo of a sand tiger shark, tapping on it excitedly. “I was looking for sharks!”

Ever since the bizarre, life-saving encounter, you’ve been returning to the same spot most days. And without exception, the monster will be waiting for you in one of the neighboring caves. Judging by the pellucid, pale skin and his reluctance to be in the light, you guessed early on that he might be a creature of the depths.

One that has been around for a long time, it seems. Once he understood your interest in sharks and other aquatic animals, he developed a liking to play guide for you, silently touring you through forests of kelp, hidden caves, labyrinths of reefs and hills. He knows where the animals linger, and they don't scurry away when you approach. You've never dreamed of being so close to them, staring into their eyes and tracing their fins as they swim past you, unbothered and relaxed. The monster will gaze at you from a distance, amused by your passion.

On ground, you’ve begun your own little experiment: can the octopus creature learn sign language? You didn’t need long to discover how intelligent he is, mimicking your gestures with flawless ease, instantly memorizing the meanings, the connections, the implications. He seems to be terribly delighted by this newfound tool of communication, often asking you questions with earnest curiosity.

Ah, yes, the questions. It makes sense that he’d want to know more about humans, though his interrogations are rather…particular. Specific. It’s less about humans as a whole, and more about you. How long have you been swimming here? How deep can you actually swim, with or without aid? Might you have a family waiting for you back home? A mate, perchance? No? Interesting.

"My vacation will end soon", you sign with pursed lips. He tilts his head. "Leaving?" his webbed hands gesture, somewhat uneasy. You nod. You can discern a glint of melancholy in his eyes. Eventually, he resumes: "Would you like to see my home?" Your eyebrows raise in surprise. His home? Down there? Was such a thing even achievable for a human like you?

The plump suckers attach themselves to your skin, one resting over your mouth. "Do you trust me?" You cast one final glance over the underwater abyss, a black hole trapping all light and matter. You shake your head in approval. Without hesitation, he plunges over the cliff, pulling you after him and into the yawning void of darkness. His form glows eerily, and his movement is swift and elegant. You can tell this is his land, his territory. You would've been dead a long time ago.

He releases you on the wet stone, inside the air pocket of a cave. You need a few moments to overcome the wave of claustrophobia pressing against your lungs. As you catch your breath, you recall your long path from the surface. It would be impossible to make it back out again without your friend. A cold shiver runs across your spine. "Have a break, and I'll show you everything else afterwards", he gestures with a smile. "How long will it take? I don't want to walk back at night", you explain.

Silence. You stare into his empty orbs, awaiting a reaction. There's not a sound, not a gust of wind, not a shred of light. "You're not going back", he finally answers.

You see, he's done a fair amount of research himself. He doesn't need an encyclopedia to figure you out: how you breathe, how you move, how you exist. In fact, he is rather confident in his ways of helping you adapt to a life spent together. He would've never brought you down here if he wasn't certain of your survival. His grin widens in anticipation, a strange warmth enveloping his innards at the mere thought of it: a future with you in it, right here. However, one question remains, a cheeky, perverted detail that has been on his mind from the moment he met you, yet he could never investigate it properly.

How do humans mate?

[anomalyaly]

right where you left me

Summary: You died. Sebastian secretly had a portrait of you commissioned.

I profusely apologize for the pain.

Inspired by @sychenb for the prompt idea. Also crediting @sloanesallow for her headcanon about Sebastian keeping track of numbers.

(also sort of inspired by Unus Annus - iykyk - and Taylor Swift, if you couldn't guess by the title)

Tags: Angst, F!Reader POV (you), unreliable narrator, vague ship (Sebastian x reader/Ominis x reader), Sebastian was in love with you but never confessed, death, grief, ambiguous ending, overall the sads in general, I cried while writing this

[AO3] [Wattpad]

It had been 279 days since you died.

At least, that’s what Sebastian tells you — your portrait, anyway. It was all that was left of you after the devastating battle you had fought and never walked away from. You hadn’t even known he’d had a portrait of you commissioned when you were alive until you woke up, your body cold, your face illuminated by the flickering candles of the Undercroft.

He comes to visit you every day — some days, he simply sits in front of you, cross-legged and silent. You creep into the frame and study him, the shadows on his face, a haunted look in his eye — unfamiliar. You can only recall a bright, talkative, charming boy with whom you were once close. You didn’t recognize him the first time he visited you, yet his presence brings you comfort.

On other days, you see traces of the boy he was before. He bursts in through the gate talking nonstop about everyone who misses you, about something he saw that you would have liked or that reminded him of you. Sometimes, he even brings you gifts and places them in front of your frame so you can admire them when he’s away.

That’s where he keeps you — hidden behind a wooden crate in the Undercroft like a sacred shrine, untouched by anyone but him. He only speaks with you when he is alone.

Another boy comes in on occasion, and you only know because of the sound of his voice and the pulsing red light of his wand that you can see from behind the pile of crates. Ominis, you remember Sebastian telling you, another friend from when you were alive. Sometimes they argue, other times they refuse to acknowledge each other. But Sebastian always keeps you tucked away, his own personal secret.

“It’s almost Christmas,” he sighs as he plops down in front of you. “300 days since you…well, since— ”

He could never bring himself to finish that sentence, even after almost a year. You never finish it for him.

“Are you going back to Feldcroft?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t leave you here alone. I couldn’t do that to you.”

You knew he probably hadn’t been back since that dreadful day. He had only spoken of it once to refresh your memory. He never brought it up again.

“Sebastian,” you say, and he perks up at the sound of his name leaving your painted lips, “how come you always hide me away when Ominis comes in? Doesn’t he want to talk to me, too?”

His eyes flash with something — anger, perhaps, it was hard to tell from your two-dimensional world — and he stands, approaching your portrait. “He wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m only a portrait,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s not like you’ve been practicing necromancy.”

It wasn’t the right thing to say, but you don’t completely understand why. He turns away from you, fists clenched, shoulders tense and hunched over, before running his fingers through his hair and repeating himself more adamantly. “He wouldn’t understand.”

You remember him uttering a similar statement throughout your short life at Hogwarts — secrets that only the two of you shared, unbeknownst to Ominis until it was too late. “Surely he misses me, too— ”

“Did you love him?”

The question takes you by surprise, though you think it’s not the first time he’s asked it. “What?”

Sebastian whirls to face you, his gaze intense, demanding. “Did you love him? Or did you love me?”

Your portrait blinks, confused. Truthfully, you hadn’t been alive nearly long enough to confirm your feelings for either of them, but you knew that both boys had been important to you during your last few months of life. The portrait of you had only been a time capsule of your fifteen-year-old self — undecided and immature. You’re not even certain if the emotions you feel now are real or remnants of what you experienced when you were alive. “I…I cared deeply for both of you if that’s what you’re asking.”

Your answer nearly breaks him, as if he’s heard it a million times before. He tugs at his hair, the movement causing him to look frenzied and mad. “That’s not what I asked! Who did you — ”

“Sebastian?”

The voice of the intruder causes both of you to freeze. Sebastian pulls himself out from behind the crate and holds a finger to his lips before pushing it in front of you once more.

“Over here, Ominis.”

You hear footsteps and see the red glow of the other boy’s wand, then shuffling as Sebastian strategically places himself in front of the wooden box. The echoing footsteps grow closer, and you straighten at Ominis’s frantic tone as he speaks.

“Who were you talking to?” he asks. “I…I thought I heard…her.”

“No one else is here but me,” Sebastian says, guarded.

You can practically feel Ominis’s internal struggle to believe him. You decide that there have been enough secrets between the three of you — you’re not going to let it carry on post-mortem.

“Ominis? Is that you?” you call out. You hear Sebastian press his body against the crate in front of you. Ominis pushes past him, and they both tumble into it, knocking it over and exposing your portrait.

Chaos ensues at Ominis’s realization. The two boys are shouting at each other in front of you as you are helpless to stop them — Ominis, for having yet another secret kept from him, and Sebastian, for defending his reasonings. You aren’t sure if it’s because of jealousy, grief, or some combination of the two, but all you want is for the noise to stop.

You call out helplessly from your portrait, wishing you could step between them, just as you had done time and time again all those months ago. Before everything had gone so wrong.

Suddenly, hot, angry tears are pouring down both of their faces, and you are overcome with just how useless you are at this moment — a fragmented memory, trapped within the confines of your magical canvas. You want nothing more than to hug each of them, to let them feel your arms around them in comfort and take their pain away.

But you are gone.

The two boys now stand solemn and silent in front of you. Ominis takes a step closer, his wand hovering over your portrait before he runs his fingers along the gilded frame. “Is it…really you?”

“No.” You can hear the flatness in Sebastian’s voice, how tired and worn he truly is. He repeats exactly what you thought only moments before as if to confirm it. “She hardly remembers what happened, or even who we are. She’s just a fragment. A memory.”

You want to argue that it is you, but you know that he’s right. You barely remembered your living self until Sebastian explained everything to you on his daily visits. Whispers of your personality still shine through on occasion, but you are otherwise simply existing.

Ominis sighs, and you can hear the weight behind it, as if he had been holding his breath and finally allowed himself to release it. He traces his fingers along the divots of the frame once more, and you try to will yourself to feel it.

The two boys exchange an unspoken conversation that thickens the tension in the air. They seem to come to an agreement, and you let out a small breath — if you can call it that — of relief when they sit down in front of you and appear to bask in your presence. You stay quiet and allow them this moment — it’s the only thing you can do.

The days that follow are the same. No longer is Sebastian coming in alone for covert meetings with your portrait. Now, you see both Sebastian and Ominis at the same time every single day, a religious appointment that they’ve set aside just for you. They take turns talking to you, even if they can only manage a few words, and you learn to appreciate their company, knowing that you were loved by both of them in life.

Just like old times, Sebastian says, and the three of you laugh.

Christmas approaches quickly, or that’s what they say when they come to visit a short while later. They bring your favorite things from when you were alive — chocolate frogs, flowers, even books, which Sebastian reads to you — and they tell you stories about you and the kind of person they knew you to be. You wonder if it’s true, or if they have created an idealistic image of you since you are no longer there with them. Not really.

Kind, they say that you were, thoughtful, loving, self-sacrificial, and maybe a bit idealistic. You were friends with both of them, after all, the mischievous pair that they were, before everything was taken away from them, before life was unfair. They try to smile for you and remind you that Christmas at the castle is a time for celebration, but you can tell that it’s a weak facade.

You smile back at them anyway.

The anniversary of your death approaches. Neither of them can bring themselves to say anything, aside from a few words to honor you. So the three of you sit in tearful silence, admiring the flowers that they decorated your portrait with. You think you can almost smell the sweet aroma of the bouquets.

Something changes in the air — you can sense it — though you aren’t sure what. You notice it when their visits become shorter, with fewer stories to tell, and fewer presents left in front of your frame. Sebastian and Ominis start showing up at separate times, stopping in for a brief hello before leaving with an excuse. You start to wonder what they are doing when they are gone, but you are unable to leave your frame — only one portrait of you was ever commissioned.

Soon, they start missing days, returning at a later time with profuse apologies about how life was busy, but they still miss you. Difficult classes, detention, studying for NEWTs, and preparing for a career — all of these seem to take precedence over you. But they still manage to make time in all of the hectic day-to-day activities, and you look forward to the days when they do come.

You wake up one morning and realize you are in a different location — Feldcroft, most likely, though you hadn’t seen it since that fateful day. Sebastian hangs your frame up on the wall, promising that he and Ominis will come to visit you more often now that they have graduated.

They don’t.

The length of time in between seeing them grows longer, you’re certain of it. Each time one of them arrives, they look a little bit different — sometimes they have longer hair, other times a bit of scruff around their chins, but they always come in looking more weathered than they had when you last saw them.

You realize that they are doing something that you will never again be able to join them in — growing older. You start to wonder about their lives outside of you, yet your painted mind cannot comprehend what an adult life looks like, forever frozen in your adolescent state. You find that you are unable to relate to any of their stories, and they seem to be holding back in what they choose to share.

I wish you were still here, they always say before they go, and you start to wonder if they mean it.

At long last, the visits from your once two closest friends become scarce, and you aren’t certain how much time has passed since someone last spoke to you. The bright flowers that once decorated your golden frame wither and die, and the little gifts they used to leave stay untouched and unopened. The tiny cottage in Feldcroft becomes a sepulcher of your essence — a permanent reminder that you are no longer among the living.

You can’t help but wonder if it was something you did, if their reasons for not returning were your fault. You can feel the stories that they used to tell you fading away, unable to retain the memories in your current form.

You decide that it’s time to rest.

In the quiet house, just south of Hogwarts, your portrait closes its eyes. You do not wake again.

[himbo-kuto]

sylus is someone who always notices the scent of your perfume. he never truly understood the meaning of how smells are associated with memories until he caught a whisper of your sweet scent lingering on his jacket from when you hugged him goodbye last week. he caught himself chuckling to himself as he held the garment up to his nose. 

or in the winter time when he ‘forgets’ his scarf, he knows that your perfume will always welcome him into a warm embrace. no matter what the weather, smelling you always feels like spring. he catches traces of it in the crisp breeze that blows past as you release the fragrance that you’ve been keeping so warm under your wool scarf. 

he wouldn’t usually let you fend the cold, but sylus wanted to be selfish just this one time. you circle it around his neck, making sure to pull it up so it covers his nose. you cup his cheeks, letting the warmth of your hands heat them up before landing a kiss right on his forehead. 

“you’ve been forgetting your scarf a lot more huh?” he closes his eyes and inhales through his nose. the bright citrusy notes of your perfume, mixed in with your body’s pheromones is something sylus will never forget, even in his next life. that’s how he’ll find you, time and time again. 

“i guess you’re rubbing off on me, kitten.” 

there was another time where sylus took you to a path that overlooked the city of linkon. the perfect end cap to your date. you felt his warmth as his held you from behind. you went to lean your head back, only to remember that you had put your hair into a claw clip. he could only laugh as he watched you pout. 

“may i?” he effortlessly freed your hair from the confines of your clip and like clock work, a gust of wind blew past the two of you. that scent once again permeated all his senses, he couldn’t help but smile as he buried his nose into your neck. you tried to push him away as his breath was tickling you, but he only pulled you closer. sylus wasn’t much of a laugher, but he couldn’t help it when he was with you. whether was due to your clumsiness or just the way you were as a person, his cheek muscles were always sore the next day. 

a deep content sigh left your lips as you accepted your fate. you raked your fingers through his hair, feeling the way he relaxed against you. 

“my silly little dragon.” 

and oh was it bittersweet when you were away on a mission and sylus caught hints of citrus and neroli on his sheets. he wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and bask in your presence. but instead, he opted for trading his pillow out with yours. he tossed his pillow on the other side of the bed, long forgotten. he turned onto his stomach, fully face planting into the plush goose feather. oh how he missed you. his shoulders relaxed as he let out a deep exhale, now adjusting so his arm was hugging the pillow beneath him. what an insufferable 8 hours until you were back home. though, in no time at all did he find himself drifting back into dreamland, hoping to find you in his arms when he woke back up. 

his sleep was often empty, void of dreams. but for whatever reason he found himself walking amongst a field filled with mandarin trees. the scent was familiar but it felt like it was missing something. he walked through the fields for what felt like forever trying to find what it was, but to no avail. deciding to rest, he took shelter under the biggest tree using its long branches for shade. he closed his eyes trying to envision what this missing piece was. it was always right on the tip of his tongue, but whenever he thought got close, the feeling would just disappear. 

the sound of rustling leaves and branches brought the dragon peace. sylus didn’t even notice that he had dozed off until he was awakened by a familiar smell. that smell. but he was stiff and it was dark. he tried screaming, but his voice was caught in his throat. 

“sylus.. up… my love.. wake up.” 

his eyes shot open only to be met with your warm concerned ones. your hand was resting on his cheek, stroking it gently trying to get him to calm down. his breathing slowly evened out as he came back to reality. 

“did you have a bad dream?” you were in your pajamas and it was dark outside. he could’ve sworn he wasn’t asleep for that long. you pulled him into your chest, using your fingers to lightly scratch the back of his neck how he likes.

“i’m sorry i was away for so long, but i’m home now.” he instinctively nuzzled into your chest, pulling you impossibly close. 

home.

“that’s what was missing…” a curious hum left your lips as you placed a few kisses on his temple.

“what was that, dear?” 

“nothing, i’m just glad that you’re home.”  

(nest - seville orange is the perfume i’m referencing :p hehe iykyk)

[mrsonmyr]

the perfect boyfriend

summary: inspired by kris letang calling sid the perfect boyfriend

pairing: sidney crosby x female reader

It was a crisp April evening in Pittsburgh, the rain slicking the streets and making them shine beneath the glow of streetlights. Inside a cozy, dimly lit restaurant tucked off a quiet street, a few of the Penguins veterans had gathered for dinner. A tradition, of sorts—no press, no cameras, just a night to breathe, laugh, and talk like regular people.

Sidney sat near the end of the table, half-listening to a story Bryan Rust was telling while discreetly checking his phone under the table. A quick smile tugged at his lips as he replied to a text.

Kris Letang, seated across from him, caught it.

“Let me guess,” Kris said with a smirk, sipping his wine. “That's your girlfriend?”

Sid shrugged, a little sheepish. “Just making sure she got home okay.”

Kris rolled his eyes playfully. “You really are something else.”

“What?” Sid asked, confused but amused.

“You,” Kris said, setting down his glass, “you’re the perfect boyfriend. I don’t even think you try, that’s the wild part. It’s just… who you are.”

Sid looked like he might protest, but Kris wasn’t done.

“No, seriously. You remember the tiniest things. Like that time she mentioned her favorite flowers were peonies, and you had them sent to her apartment when you were on the road for two weeks? Who does that?”

Sid shrugged again, more bashful now. “It made her smile.”

“Exactly,” Kris said. “You cook for her—even when we’re exhausted from back-to-backs, you’re going home to make grilled salmon and roasted veggies like you’re on Top Chef. You don’t half-ass anything. Not hockey, not life, and definitely not love.”

The other guys at the table started to chime in.

“Didn’t you drive three hours to surprise her at her cousin’s wedding?” Bryan asked.

“He hates weddings,” Kris added, laughing. “But he still wore a suit, danced with her grandma, and pretended to know everyone’s name.”

“Her grandma’s awesome,” Sid mumbled, trying to stay humble.

“You send her coffee when she’s working late,” Kris said, ticking it off like a list. “You let her steal your hoodies, even though you pretend to complain. You’re patient, you listen, you never make her feel like she’s second to the game.”

Sid smiled at that one, quieter now.

“She’s not,” he said simply.

Kris nodded, his voice softening. “That’s what makes it real, man. You make her feel like she’s the center of your world, even when the whole world wants a piece of you.”

Sid leaned back, thoughtful, almost shy in the face of so much praise. But his smile said it all. He didn’t need to be called the perfect boyfriend. He just loved her—and it showed in every quiet, consistent way.

Kris raised his glass, and the others followed.

“To Sid. Captain. Legend. Boyfriend of the damn year.”

Everyone laughed, including Sid, who shook his head but clinked glasses with the rest of them.

And somewhere, probably scrolling through a goodnight message he’d just sent her, you already knew all of this—because being with him wasn’t about the grand gestures. It was about the way he showed up. Always.

The door clicked open softly, just past 10 p.m., and Sidney stepped inside, tossing his bag down and kicking off his shoes with that quiet, deliberate way he always did—like even after a full travel day and a tough game, he still didn’t want to disturb the peace.

You were curled up on the couch with a blanket and a book, candles lit on the coffee table, his favorite hoodie pulled over your frame. The second you saw him, you lit up.

“You’re home,” you said, already standing and walking over to him.

He wrapped his arms around you like he’d been waiting all week for it. “Hey.”

You buried your face in his chest for a moment, breathing him in—warmth, the scent of travel, and a faint trace of the cologne you'd left on his bathroom counter.

“You tired?” you asked, pulling back to look at him.

“A little,” he said. “But I missed you more.”

You smiled, but caught the amused look tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What?”

Sid shook his head, taking off his jacket and hanging it up. “Nothing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “No, there’s something. Spill.”

He tried to act casual as he wandered toward the kitchen, pulling open the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “The guys were giving me a hard time today.”

You raised a brow. “About what?”

Sid took a long sip of water, then looked over at you with a faint smirk. “Apparently… I’m the perfect boyfriend.”

Your laugh burst out before you could stop it. “They said that?”

“Mmhmm.” He walked back over to you, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other still holding the water. “Tanger started it. Rust jumped in. Even Jarry got a shot in.”

You were still grinning. “What, exactly, makes you so ‘perfect’?”

He looked mock-thoughtful. “Could be that I texted you a good luck message before your meeting. Or that I bring you snacks after games. Or that I don’t leave my socks on the floor.”

“That does rank high,” you said, nudging his arm.

“But then,” he added, stepping in closer, voice quieter now, “I told them something.”

“Oh?”

He reached for your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “I told them I’m not perfect. I just love you. And I try to show up for you every day.”

You stared at him, all playfulness fading into something warmer, softer.

“You do show up,” you said. “In every way.

Sid leaned in and kissed your forehead, then rested his against yours for a moment. “They can call me whatever they want. I just want to be your person. That’s enough.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “You already are.”

They stood there in the soft glow of the living room for a beat longer, wrapped in each other and the kind of love that didn’t need proving—but was still felt in every quiet gesture, every joke shared, every honest word spoken.

Perfect? Maybe.

But for you, he was just Sid.

And that was everything.

[art-by-jas]

Sleepyhead

John Carter x Reader

Summary: Your and Carter's new relationship has not allowed for much intimacy, but one morning, he decides it is time to make the most of his day off.

TAGS: Established Relationship, Kissing, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Attempts at Dirty Talk, but it just comes out sweet.

WC: 2.7k

A/N: I am on episode 21 of season 1; The obsession with him isn't going away also; the end of episode 20 made me actually cry over how cute his dancing is. My asks are always open if you have any suggestions or prompts you'd like me to see me try.

The morning light gradually seeps through the curtains, bathing the walls in a soothing yellow glow. You pry open an eye to find Carter already awake, gazing up at the ceiling. With a deep stretch, you extend your arms overhead and push your legs off the bed.

John turns to look at you, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a small smile. "Morning, sleepyhead," he teases, his voice still raspy from sleep. 

You grin and rub your eyes, feeling surprisingly well-rested. Turning to face you, he props himself up on one elbow. "How'd you sleep?" he asks, his gaze sweeping over your tousled hair and sleepy features.

"Pretty good," you reply, your voice still thick with drowsiness. "Though I did have some interesting dreams..." You feel heat rise to your cheeks.

A smirk plays at his lips as he raises an eyebrow. "Oh, really? What kind of dreams?" he asks, his tone slightly teasing, clearly guessing he had something to do with them.

Your new relationship with Carter was still in its early stages. Despite the limited time available between your busy schedules, you had only recently begun enjoying the occasional makeout sessions. As his smirk gives way to a pleased smile, he reaches out to tenderly brush a strand of hair from your face.

His fingertips dance across your skin as he murmurs, "Don't be embarrassed. You're always on my mind."

Your pulse quickens at his admission, and you can't conceal the surprise that colors your response, "Really?"

He chuckles and nods, his unwavering gaze fixed on yours. "All the time," he repeats, his fingers tracing featherlight patterns along your face and neck. In a low, gruff voice, he confesses, "You're always on my mind, you know. Even when I'm working or trying to sleep, I can't stop thinking about you."

Your breath catches as his words send a shiver through you. He leans in, his face just inches from yours. "It drives me crazy," he whispers, his dark eyes smoldering with desire. Gently, he brushes his thumb along your lower lip, the touch electrifying your body. "I can't focus, can't concentrate. The only thing I can think about is you..." His gaze locks onto yours, thumb still tracing your lip as he pauses.

With sudden urgency, he closes the gap between you. His lips crash into yours, the kiss desperate and intense. You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He kisses you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he presses you back against the pillows. Your tongues tangle, the kiss growing more passionate by the moment. A low moan escapes him as his hands roam your body, his hips pressing firmly against yours.

Your breath catches as his lips trail down your throat, coming in short gasps. "I-I think about you all the time too..." you manage to say between moans.

He pulls back slightly, gazing into your eyes. "Yeah?" he asks, his expression a mix of arousal and tenderness. His voice is rough with desire. "What do you think about?"

His velvety voice soothes you, your body yearns for his touch. "Everything," you whisper breathlessly. "Your smile, your laugh, your hands..." You trail off, heat rising to your cheeks as you realize how desperately you crave him.

A smug grin spreads across his lips. "My hands, hmm?" he purrs, flexing his fingers and lightly dragging them down your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Your body shivers at his touch, hyper-aware of his every movement. You hum softly, eyes fluttering shut as his fingertips brush against your hip. He trails open-mouthed kisses up your jawline, his hands roaming over your body and slipping beneath your shirt to trace lazy patterns on your skin.

Leaning in close, his hot breath caresses your ear. "Can I try something?" he whispers, his voice low and rough.

You shiver at the sound, your body already anticipating his touch. "What...what do you want to try?" you ask, heart racing.

Placing soft kisses along your neck, his lips graze your skin as he mumbles his request. "I want to...go down on you," he breathes. "Is that alright?"

Your cheeks flush at his words, your body already warming with anticipation. "I,uh-I...yeah...yeah, that's fine..." you manage to stutter out, your voice breathy and unsteady.

He grins against your skin, clearly pleased by your response. "Good," he mutters. "I've been thinking about this for a while." Lowering his head, his lips trail down your collarbone and across your chest. Pausing for a moment, he captures your lips in a slow, sensual kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as he savors the moment. Then, he breaks away, his mouth moving lower. As Carter slowly kisses his way down your body, you can't help but feel a twinge of nerves. With gentle movements, he helps to remove your top.

Sensing your unease, Carter soothingly rubs your thigh, his touch calming your nerves. "Relax," he whispers in a soothing tone. "I won't do anything you're uncomfortable with, okay?" You take a deep breath and nod, trying to surrender to the sensations he's igniting within you. 

Carter continues his sensual exploration, his lips and tongue leaving a scorching path down to your hipbone. He teases the edge of your sleep shorts, his hot breath caressing your stomach. Sliding his hand under the fabric, his knuckles brush against your skin.

You shiver at his touch, your body growing more eager. Looking up at you with dark, desire-filled eyes, he pauses. "Is this okay?" he asks.

You nod, offering a faint smile. "Yes," you rasp, your voice tight with anticipation. He smiles and slides his hand into your shorts. His touch is gentle as he cups you through your underwear. You gasp, breath catching, as he begins to stroke - steady, measured movements that set your body ablaze.

His eyes lock onto yours. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, desire thick in his voice.

You'd experienced this kind of pleasure before, but something felt different this time - more intimate, more intense. Perhaps it was his unwavering gaze that drank in your every reaction or his touch that ignited a thousand nerves. Whatever the reason, this was unlike anything you'd felt before.

His fingers slid beneath your shorts, tugging them downward with a gentle insistence. As the fabric slipped away, he let out a small, ragged breath, his hungry eyes fixed on the newly exposed skin of your thighs. The shorts fall to the floor, and his hands roam freely over your bare legs, sending electric currents pulsing through your body. The barely contained lust in his eyes made your heart race and your core ache with need.

He gently parts your legs, his touch tender as he kneels between them, large hands caressing your inner thighs. Leaning down, his lips brush the sensitive skin just above your knee, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses as he moves higher.

As he nears your core, your body trembles, breath coming in short gasps. He worships your skin, tongue swirling over the delicate flesh of your inner thigh, driving you wild with need.

He pauses, lips hovering just above your pussy, gaze on you, silently seeking confirmation. You nod, unable to speak, body desperate for his touch. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes drifting closed as he commits your scent to memory. Mouthing you through your underwear, his tongue traces the outline of your most sensitive areas in slow, tantalizing circles, each one stoking the flames of your arousal. With one hand, he trails feather-light caresses along your hip. He nuzzles his face against you, his nose pressing through the wet fabric. The heat of his breath seeps through the cotton, igniting your body with yearning.

"Oh god," you moan, your voice ragged with need, "That feels so good."

His eyes, darker than you've ever seen, lock onto yours as his lips curl into a small smile. He can tell how much you're relishing his touch, how it's driving you wild.

He pauses, his lips hovering just millimeters from your skin, his gaze fixed intently on yours. With a low, rough whisper, he says, "If you think this feels good, it's about to feel incredible once I get these off of you."  He hooks his fingers under the elastic of your underwear, slowly, tantalizingly, rolling them down your legs and tossing them to the side.

He pauses to drink in the sight of your unclothed body, his eyes tracing every curve as if trying to etch the image into his memory. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, his hands gliding reverently up your thighs. 

Even amidst the haze of passion, you summon a teasing lilt. "I believe you've mentioned that already," you gasp breathlessly.

He chuckles softly. "That doesn't make it any less true," he mumbles, his lips grazing your hip. "You're gorgeous." Without hesitation, he presses his lips to your most pussy, his tongue darting out to savor you. A low moan escapes your lips as your back arches off the bed, his touch both gentle and firm as he explores your folds.

He moans against you, his own arousal evident in his movements - his touch growing more urgent, more insistent. You feel his fingers digging into your skin, his grip leaving faint marks as he worships your body with his tongue. He takes his time, savoring every inch of you, his lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to build the pleasure until it was nearly unbearable. You feel his gaze upon you, his eyes dark with desire.

You notice his hips moving rhythmically against the bed, almost subconsciously, as if he can't control himself. The realization hits you. You ask, your voice a mix of awe and curiosity, "Are you getting off on eating me out?"

His eyes meet yours, revealing a blend of embarrassment and arousal. Seemingly surprised that you've noticed, the flush on his cheeks betrays his pleasure. He pulls away for a moment, his glistening lips, and nods in acknowledgment. "Y-yeah," he stutters out, his voice rough with desire. "It's, um, really hot.”

A wave of arousal washed over you, an uncontrollable desire growing in the pit of your stomach. You can tell he was enjoying this just as much as you were, his desire fueling his every move.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," you respond with a shaky but genuine smile. He returns a warm smile and resumes his ministrations, his tongue working overtime. His tongue starts to get sloppy, no longer as precise as before, as if he’s struggling to keep himself in check; all his attention is focused on the feeling of you.

He pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, his gaze locking onto yours, "Can I...use my fingers too?" He asks, his voice rough with arousal.

You're unable to speak, your body trembling with need. You simply nod your agreement. He gives you a small smile and runs his fingers through your dampness, positioning himself to use both his fingers and tongue.

He pauses, drawing away as he struggles to form words through the lustful haze. "You have no idea how long I've been thinking about this - tasting you, touching you. I even touch myself at the thought of you. You drive me crazy."

Your shiver at his raw, needy words, your arousal growing stronger. The vivid image he's painting becomes more vivid in your mind.

"Tasting you is even better than I imagined," he whispers, his lips returning to your skin as he resumes his ministrations, his fingers working alongside his tongue.

Your words come out in a breathy gasp, your body trembling under his touch. "I never knew it could feel like this," you manage to stutter, your voice tight with pleasure.

"You like that, huh?" he asks, his tone almost teasing as he looks up at you from between your legs. He punctuates the question with a sharper thrust of his fingers, brushing against that sensitive bundle of nerves. You let out a strangled cry, your eyes rolling back as pleasure washes over you, your body arching towards him.

"Oh god, that feels so good. Don't stop," you breathe out.

He chuckles softly, the sound sending pleasant vibrations through you. "Don't worry, I have no intention of stopping anytime soon," he chuckles, his lips brushing your thigh. John resumes his attentions, his fingers and tongue working in perfect harmony. His movements grow more intense with each passing moment. You can feel the pressure building inside you, coiled tightly like a spring ready to release. You teeter on the edge, your body tense with anticipation.

"I'm... I'm so close," you gasp out between ragged breaths.

"Come for me, baby," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you come all over my face."

The words combined with the mounting pressure, push you over the edge. You cry out, your body arching as waves of pleasure crash over you. "Y-yes, John, O-Oh…. Fucccccck…" you gasp, trembling beneath him.

He works you through your climax, his fingers and tongue gently coaxing you over the edge. His touch grows softer and gentler as the last waves of pleasure subside. With a soft smile, he looks up at you.

He pulls back, his face glistening with your essence. His eyes are hooded, a smug expression on his face as he licks his lips.

"That was...amazing," you gasp, your body still trembling from the aftershocks. He grins and moves up beside you, draping his arm lazily across your stomach.

"You taste incredible," he rasps, his voice thick with desire. Leaning in, he captures your lips in a messy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth to mingle with yours. The familiar flavor on his lips only stokes the heat within you.

He murmurs softly, his voice pleased, "I'm glad you enjoyed it." Leaning in, he presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his eyes on yours. You can see the hunger and smoldering desire in his them, realizing this is far from over.

"I'm not done with you yet," he says, his voice growing huskier as his hands slide up your thighs. You laugh softly, your body still recovering from the intensity. "I think I need a minute or two to catch my breath," you say, jokingly swatting at him.

He chuckles, grinning, clearly amused by your need for a break. "Don't worry, I'm in no rush," he says, his hand idly tracing patterns on your thigh. "I have the whole day off, we have all the time in the world."

At his words, you can feel your body starting to warm up again, the thought of having all day to explore each other making a heat pool in your stomach. For now, you're content to simply lie in his arms, savoring the aftermath of your shared pleasure.

He wraps his arms around you, drawing you closer against his body. The room is filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of your still-ragged breathing from your earlier exertion.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, his stubble rubbing against your sensitive skin, and you shiver lightly in his embrace. He chuckles softly, his grip on you tightening. "I could get used to this," he murmurs.

You laugh softly, your heart swelling at his words. "Oh yeah? You could get used to spending all day in bed with me?" he chuckles, his warm breath caressing your neck.

"Is that a challenge?" he teases, his hand tracing lazy patterns across your bare back. "Because I accept."

You shiver at his touch, the heat of his body against yours stirring a new wave of desire within you, your skin still sensitive from your earlier climax. 

"Careful what you wish for," you tease, lightly nipping at the skin of his collarbone.

He let out a guttural groan as your teeth grazed his skin, his hold on you tightening as he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss. "I'm always careful," he murmured against your lips, his warm, enticing breath caressing your skin. "And I stand by my decision."

You smiled into the kiss, your hand sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulder. "Well, then I guess we have our plans for the day," you said playfully, pulling away to give him a mischievous smirk.

He returned your smirk with a wolfish grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "That we do," he purred, his hand tracing the curve of your hip. "And I plan on making the most of every single second of it."

MASTERLIST

[thebluediner]

a/n: I'm gifting you this in the mean time

JEALOUSY JEALOUSY

there she goes getting jealous again. you didn't what the fuck was up with billie these past couple of weeks but she was getting anxious and agitated by people who are around you a lot.

it started at her albumn listening event. you were in the vip section and a couple of her influencer friends we're bundled up around you and you guess one of them got too close and she saw the whole thing.

then, next time it was at the grocery store when you both decided to go in but billie , who wanted to be extra careful ,wore a full incognito fit. when you reached the cashier they unfortunately started flirted, asking basic questions like what's your name , age, are you single and all that shit ,which she shut down by pulling you close by the waist before handing over her black card to pay.

the other time was when a delivery guy came to deliver a couple of boxes over to your house. the awfully old man complimented whatever you were wearing and wished you a beautiful day and of-course billie heard all of it since she was a couple of feet away ,in your kitchen.

now you're at an after party together well until she departs to greet a few of her past friends. the moment she left some guy, probably a producer, took it to his advantage to approach you. you looked at him like he was dumb whilst he raved on about whatever his job was ,how rich he is and how he could afford you. before you could even stand up for yourself billie came in pretty quickly between y'all giving you a kiss totally shoving the other guy off to god knows where.

but, when her lips left yours you could see it in her eyes she wasn't happy at all. her eyes raked over your body with confliction of emotions.

"should I fuck you so good and mark you up all over for people to not try ?" she asks in a way she didn't need an answer she already made up her mind.

and that's how you ended up in her car with the seats pushed back with you on straddling her lap. your legs were parted to settle on her perfectly while her mouth attacked your neck with purple marks and bites that wanted to be seen and appreciated the next day.

your whines and groans were loud with no shame. your body leaned into billie wanting her every fiber on you. her kisses sloppy and gnawing didn't stop on your neck but travelled lower to your chest marking you well enough to even brand you at this point.

her hands groped your breasts through the fabric of your dress tracing your figure down to you panties. her hands travelled underneath your dress cupping your pussy making you gasp at her action.

"who does this pussy belong to mmh?" her raspy voice questions expecting an answer.

"you, it belongs to you " you call out your head tilting to the side your need for her clouding any critical thinking.

''doesn't feel like it these days though princess'' billie pouted her eyes searching for yours. she was a menace you thought how could she say that like her fingers weren't slipping in your folds.

''uh...i'm sorry'' you managed to get out with your back arching towards her. you felt her fingers swim in you before she inserts one finger then another causing a pornographic cry to escape your lips.

''what are apologising for mama mmh .it isn't your fault that you're so sexy is it?'' billie's silky voice asks you with innocence draped all over it like she wasn't going to start pumping her fingers in you.

you shriek upon the unexpected wave of pleasure making you whip your head back as your hand tries to find anything to hold onto. billie's free hand wraps around your waist as support bringing you closer to her.

''tell me i'm the only one that matters'' billie instructs her eyes glued to yours, the ones you could barely keep open with all the stimulation you're experiencing.

''y-you're...the only one... baby please'' you string out regardless of the struggle. billie's hands were curled inside of you rubbing just the right spaces.

''tell me nobody fucks you like me '' billie commands once again biting her lip with her brows furrowed focusing on pleasing you

'' nobody... does bil...faster please '' you manage to get out. your body unconsciously bouncing on her fingers trying to ride them and get as much stimulation you can.

'' you're so fucking hot baby ugh should've fucked you in-front of all them '' another string of whines slip out from you at her dirty words.

you were so close she could feel it. you walls started getting tighter around her fingers making it harder for her to reach deeper but your pussy made such unholy sounds, she loved it.

''i'm gonna cum baby .fuck fuck fuck'' you told her your voice getting higher with every word so when the orgasm finally hitted you screamed letting your head hide in billie's neck. your sounds got muffled against her skin leaving you dizzy for a couple of seconds with your thighs trembling as the aftermath.

'' wanna fuck you better when we get home'' billie tells you while she leaves soft kisses on your shoulder.

[bueckers555]

SUMMER NIGHTS — paige bueckers x reader x azzi fudd

summary: in which, you just couldn’t bite your tongue around the sharp witted girls anymore. and you paid the price for it.

warnings: smutttt, threesome, oral sex (p!receiving, r!receiving), ab riding, fingering (r!receiving)

authors note: sorry for dropping off the face of the earth, hopefully this filth makes up for it (before i drop off the face of the earth again)

The cabin’s loft was a haze of dim light and summer heat, the kind that clung to your skin and made every breath feel heavy.

You’d been roped into this trip by your parents, same as every year, but this time, Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd—UConn’s golden duo—had turned the annual getaway into something far less innocent. The three of you had history: Paige’s relentless taunts, Azzi’s quieter but no less cutting jabs.

Until suddenly, you just couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t bite your tongue, like you did every year.

You snapped back. You don’t even remember what you said. Maybe it was something about how Azzi needed to back up off you or maybe you made a stupid comment about how Paige’s stupid music was too loud and annoying: just like her.

And the next thing you knew, you ended up here.

Sprawled out on the loft’s king-sized bed, the wooden beams above creaking faintly as the lake breeze drifted through the open window. Paige stood at the foot of the bed, her blonde hair loose and wild from the day, tank top stretched tight over her toned frame. Azzi leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed, her dark curls framing a face that was all sharp edges and knowing smirks.

“Thought you could keep running that mouth, huh?” Paige said, voice low and gravelly, the kind she used when she was pissed—or turned on. She climbed onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as she crawled toward you, slow and deliberate. “You’ve been fucking try it all day.”

You swallowed hard, heat pooling in your core despite the way you tried to hold your ground. “Maybe you’re just too easy to rile up,” you shot back, but your voice wavered, betraying you.

Azzi laughed softly, pushing off the wall to join Paige. “She’s got a point, P. But that doesn’t mean she gets away with it.” Her tone was silkier, more measured, but no less dangerous. She knelt beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off her skin, her fingers brushing your thigh like a warning.

You tried to sit up, to regain some control, but Paige was faster—her hand shot out, pinning your shoulder back down. “Nah, stay right there,” she said, blue eyes glinting with something feral. “You’ve been fucking with us long enough. See what happens when fuck around?”

Your breath hitched as Azzi’s hand slid higher, tracing the hem of your shorts. “What?” you managed, though it came out more like a whimper. “I don’t—”

“Shh,” Azzi cut you off, her lips curving into a smile that was equal parts sweet and sadistic. “You don’t get to talk back anymore, baby. You’re done.”

Before you could process her words, Paige’s hands were on your wrists, yanking them above your head and holding them there with one strong grip. Her other hand tugged your tank top up, exposing your stomach to the cool air and their hungry gazes. “Look at her,” Paige muttered, almost to herself. “All that attitude, and she’s already shaking.”

“I’m not—” you started, but Azzi’s fingers dipped beneath your shorts, grazing the damp fabric of your panties, and the lie died in your throat. A soft moan escaped instead, humiliatingly loud in the quiet loft.

“She’s soaked,” Azzi said, her voice dripping with mock surprise as she pressed harder, teasing your clit through the thin cotton. “Guess she doesn’t hate us as much as she pretends.”

Paige grinned, predatory and smug. “Told you. All that bratty shit was jus a front.” She released your wrists only to grab your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes. “Who you this wet for, ma? Say it.”

Your mind spun, caught between defiance and the overwhelming heat building under Azzi’s touch. “Fuck you,” you whispered, but it lacked conviction, your body arching traitorously into Azzi’s hand.

Paige’s laugh was dark, her free hand sliding down to grip your throat—not hard, just enough to make you gasp. “Oh, we will. But first…” you swore you could see the sadism gleam in her eyes, “you’re gonna beg.”

Azzi pulled her hand back, and you whined at the loss, hips bucking involuntarily. She smirked, peeling your shorts and panties down your legs in one smooth motion, leaving you bare from the waist down. The air hit your slick folds, and you squirmed, exposed and vulnerable under their stares.

“Look at that pretty pussy,” Paige murmured, her grip tightening on your throat as she watched Azzi spread your thighs wider. “Bet it tastes even better than it looks.”

Azzi didn’t waste time. She leaned down, her breath hot against your core before her tongue flicked out, dragging a slow, torturous line up your slit. You cried out, hands flying to the sheets, clutching them like a lifeline as she licked again, deeper this time, her lips closing around your clit with a gentle suck that made your vision blur.

“Fuck—Azzi—” you gasped, but Paige’s hand slid from your throat to your mouth, muffling the sound.

“Quiet,” she ordered, her voice a rough whisper. “You don’t get to scream yet.” She shifted, straddling your chest, her weight pinning you down as she tugged her own shorts off, revealing the damp patch on her boxers. “You’re gonna make me feel good first.”

Azzi’s tongue circled your clit, relentless and skilled, while Paige shoved her boxers down and positioned herself over your face. The scent of her arousal hit you—sweet, intoxicating—and before you could protest, she lowered herself, her wet folds brushing your lips.

Your tongue immediately darted out to taste her, inebriating and warm. She groaned above you, one hand bracing on the headboard as she started to grind against your face, slow at first, then faster, her thighs trembling around your head. Azzi’s mouth worked you harder in response, two fingers slipping inside you, curling deep and hitting that spot that made your toes curl.

“Goddamn,” Paige breathed, her voice strained as you sucked her clit, mimicking what Azzi was doing to you. “Fuck, ma. Jus like that.”

Azzi hummed against you, the vibration sending a jolt through your body. Her fingers thrust faster, stretching you open, while her tongue flicked your clit in a rhythm that had you teetering on the edge. You moaned into Paige, the sound muffled but enough to make her shudder, her pace quickening as she chased her own release.

“You gonna come for us, baby?” Azzi purred, pulling back just enough to let her words ghost over your sensitive skin. “Go ahead. Let go. We’ve got you.”

Her permission was all it took. Your orgasm crashed through you, a white-hot wave that had you shaking, crying out against Paige’s pussy as your walls clenched around Azzi’s fingers. She didn’t stop, drawing it out until you were a whimpering mess, oversensitive and dripping down her hand.

Paige wasn’t far behind. Your desperate moans pushed her over, and she came with a low, guttural sound, her thighs tightening around your head as she rode out the aftershocks on your tongue. She lifted off you, breathless, her abs glistening with sweat as she flopped onto the bed beside you.

Azzi crawled up your body, her lips and chin shiny with your release. She kissed you, deep and messy, letting you taste yourself on her tongue before pulling back to smirk at Paige. “Your turn,” she said, nodding toward you.

Paige didn’t need convincing. She slid down, hooking your legs over her shoulders as Azzi straddled your stomach, her hands roaming your chest. Paige’s tongue plunged into you without warning, lapping up the mess Azzi had left, and you keened, still raw from your first climax. Azzi pinched your nipples, rolling them between her fingers as she rocked against you, her own arousal soaking your skin.

“Too much,” you whined, but your hips lifted into Paige’s mouth anyway, chasing more despite the ache.

“Too much?” Paige mocked, pausing to nip your inner thigh. “Shut up and take it.”

Azzi leaned down, her breath hot against your ear. “You’re doing so good, baby. Letting us ruin you like this.” Her fingers twisted harder, and you arched, a sob tearing from your throat as Paige sucked your clit, her fingers sliding in beside her tongue.

The dual assault was relentless—Paige’s rough, hungry strokes and Azzi’s teasing pinches, her whispered praise turning your brain to mush. You were theirs, completely, a trembling, submissive wreck under their hands and mouths. Your second orgasm built faster, sharper, and when it hit, you screamed, the sound echoing in the loft as your body convulsed, slick gushing onto Paige’s chin.

They didn’t stop. Paige licked you through it, slower now, savoring every twitch, while Azzi kissed your neck, murmuring, “That’s it, let us have it all.” When you finally stilled, panting and spent, Paige pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her grin triumphant.

Azzi slid off you, lying beside you as Paige climbed up to join her. They flanked you, their hands still possessive on your skin—one on your thigh, the other tracing your jaw. “Think she’s learned her lesson?” Azzi asked, voice playful.

Paige snorted, brushing a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead. “Not a chance. She’s too stubborn. Guess we’ll have to keep her like this all summer.”

You couldn’t argue, couldn’t even speak—just lay there, boneless and buzzing, already dreading (or maybe craving) the next time they’d decide to put you in your place.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a beautiful little lie. [chapter 10] l Harry Castillo

Summary:  you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand

Warnings: we have fluff, we have kissing, we have Diane, we have alcohol, we have cold, we have ending

A/N: last chapter. if you got here - thank you. thank you for every comment, for every word. sorry for the mistakes, thank you for the time you dedicated to me. i hope you enjoyed this story. because i did.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]

Harry Castillo had thought for years that he was incapable of love. Several failed relationships, Lucy and his age had convinced him more and more of it. His younger brother was already married, his parents had lived happily for so many years, and only Harry was still single. And when he was slowly starting to accept it, which was hard because he really dreamed of a relationship full of love, understanding and support, you appeared.

Loving you came naturally to him, like breathing. The friendship that had developed between you was a solid foundation on which you had built what you had now. And Harry loved every single element of it.

Your clothes next to his. Cosmetics on a separate shelf. Another bathrobe in the bathroom, trinkets scattered throughout the apartment, subtle traces of someone's existence that he had stumbled upon in the apartment that had finally become a real home. When Harry came home from a meeting and found that you had made dinner and even baked cookies, he completely lost his mind.

Loving you was so easy.

After all, he held someone in his arms when he fell asleep and woke up next to them in the morning. After all, someone was waiting for him. Someone wrote him sweet and funny messages, or at least "Milk's out, can you buy some when you get back?". Harry accepted it all and was grateful for every day. You were completely on his side, at work and in life. He couldn't have wished for anything more.

This party was really important because it was connected to the annual awards ceremony. The invitation came a month ago, but it was only recently that Harry finally convinced you to let him buy you a decent dress.

You didn't want any gifts from him, even though he kept saying it was his pleasure. So far, he had bought you a few books you had talked about and a lipstick you had once looked at while shopping. But the dress and the lingerie were something he really wanted to give you.

“You look stunning.”

You smiled, applying lipstick and looking at him in the mirror. “Are you hitting on me, Castillo?”

“Maybe.” He walked over to you and kissed your exposed shoulder tenderly, then your neck. He looked ridiculously good in his well-tailored suit and combed hair. “I think something’s missing here.”

“What?” You frowned. You really tried to look good tonight. The party was really important, even though Harry was downplaying it again.

Harry left the bathroom for a moment and came back, holding a velvet, oblong box in his hands. You guessed what he was planning, and your legs almost buckled.

“You need a subtle accessory.” he said. “Close your eyes and turn around.”

You did as he asked. Something soft brushed against your neck, then landed on your skin. It took your breath away. A sweet kiss followed, and Harry quietly whispered, “Open your eyes, love.”

A delicate necklace appeared around your neck, simple and elegant, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. Harry must have noticed, because he was staring at your reflection in awe.

“Do you like it?”

“This is…” you ran your fingertips over the necklace, feeling how delicate it was. “You shouldn’t, Harry… It’s stunning. But this dress… And this…”

Strong arms wrapped around your waist as Harry rested his chin on your shoulder, “Let me spoil my girl. I know you don’t want to, but I love making you happy.”

“You do that with other things, they don’t have to be gifts.”

He smiled, sensing the other side of your statement. “And I know you’re not with me for the money, but for my charming personality.”

You turned in his arms, placing yours on his shoulders, leaning against the marble counter of the sink.

“And to your ass. You look so good in those pants.”

“Really?” Harry raised an eyebrow, barely holding back a chuckle.

“And for your broad shoulders. I think I could find a few more useful pieces.”

He shook his head in amusement before leaning down, brushing the corner of his lips against yours, careful not to smudge your lipstick. “You know I love you?”

You pouted. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“So I’ll keep reminding you of it for the rest of my life.”

The conference room of one of the most expensive hotels was filled with elegantly dressed guests. You and Harry sat at one of the tables covered in a crisp white tablecloth, surrounded by other businessmen and their partners. Conversations flowed freely, champagne was poured regularly into crystal glasses, and a band played pleasant music.

Harry's hand rested on your knee, occasionally moving to your thigh, which he squeezed lightly, and then he smiled at you like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I hope you get an award this year, Harry." Mr. Novak sounded, and the whole table burst into laughter. "I'm not kidding! You're great at what you do, lots of innovative approaches."

Harry smiled politely. "Thank you, but I didn't do anything by myself. I have just as hardworking people around me."

You smiled, feeling a significant squeeze in your thigh. The respect Harry had from others was always a source of pride. The hard work he had put in over the years was noticeable, and now he was reaping the rewards.

"However, I heard that your last contract was taken over by Ms. Kruger-Waltz." The older woman with beautiful silver hair smiled politely at Harry. "I like her, I've always been inspired by strong women."

"Mrs. Waltz is very good at what she does, we have to admit that. I lost, but Mr. Williams will definitely be pleased, and that's the most important thing."

The entire table agreed with him, and after a moment, as if on cue, everyone looked towards the podium, where a beautiful woman stood with the host of the event.

The awards ceremony began. The guests politely applauded the winners, who treated them to short and funny speeches. You sipped your champagne, feeling Harry's warm hand on your thigh, and when no one was looking, he brushed his lips against your arm, gently tickling you. He wanted to say something, wanted to suggest that you leave the party with him, and go home where you could be alone, when suddenly someone called his name and everyone at the table started clapping vigorously.

"Congratulations!" the man sitting next to him patted him on the shoulder, showing snow-white teeth.

Harry stood up uncertainly, because everyone was looking at him. It was still a bit embarrassing for him. But he felt something. You squeezed his hand, giving him the "I'm with you" signal, and he immediately felt stronger.

He smiled at the guests, and then, instead of going straight to the podium where his award awaited him, he leaned towards you and kissed you. The room filled with cheers, but you were in your little bubble for that brief moment. And when Harry walked between the tables, you could still feel his warm kiss on your lips.

“We should get out of here.”

“You should stay here a little longer.”

“Don’t tell me you like this food.”

“I won’t, but I like your suit.”

Harry kissed your neck and smiled, hugging you tighter. A dozen or so other couples danced next to you to some old song. Your fingers played with Harry’s hair at the nape of his neck as you swayed like everyone else. It was late, but many people were still having fun. Every now and then someone would pat Harry on the shoulder and congratulate him, and he would smile politely.

“You know I’m proud of you?” you asked quietly.

“Really? Why?” he looked at you with interest.

He saw your gaze shift to the guests in the room, then back to him. “You’re the same as you were when I first met you. You’re successful, you sign contracts, you manage money that most people never even saw, and you’re still the same Harry that hired me. I’m proud that in this crazy world, you’re still you.”

He smiled as he felt your words sink in. You were his greatest prize, and the way you supported him made him feel almost invincible. All of these people around him, this whole world, didn’t matter when he held you in his arms. He only needed you.

The night was pleasantly cool as you stepped outside to wait for your car. Harry’s jacket rested on your shoulders as you stood among the lonely guests who were also waiting. In your mind, you were planning a lazy weekend for the two of you, maybe to visit the new bakery that opened nearby, maybe go to the movies…

“Harry? Congratulations. You definitely deserve this award.” a familiar voice rang out behind you.

Diane appeared in a gorgeous black dress with beautifully highlighted red lipstick. Despite the late hour, she looked phenomenal.

"Thank you," Harry replied politely, and his hand that was around your waist squeezed you lightly. A familiar signal. "It's nice to see you. You look wonderful."

Diane lit a cigarette and took a drag, looking at you carefully. "I don't think you should compliment another woman when your lady is right next to you, Harry. It's a bit tactless."

"Don't worry. My lady knows she's the most important." he smiled at you. "I'm glad you found the time to show up here. You must have a lot of work with Mr. Williams."

Diane glanced at the car that had stopped in front of her. “That’s mine,” she muttered, stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray against the wall and giving you another look. “I think we’ll meet again. Maybe you’ll win next time.”

“I’ll try. Have a nice evening, Diane.”

She got into the car and the driver closed the door behind her and a moment later they drove off.

For a moment you both stared at the place where she had disappeared until Harry finally spoke. “You know, I feel sorry for her. And even more for you, because Diane attacked you.”

“I thought about that too. She must have been really hurt.” you replied. “She was driven by emotions, and emotions are not always good advisors.”

Harry nodded, hugging you tighter as your car pulled up onto the sidewalk. The driver got out and politely opened the door for you. You thought about Diane for a moment longer, grateful that the encounter hadn’t turned unpleasant. Harry was level-headed and calm, even though you knew the situation had upset him greatly. But maybe, if it weren’t for Diane and that rumor, you would still have tried to keep your relationship a secret? Maybe something good would have come of it?

3 months later.

A cold had confined you to bed for over a week. Harry had asked the doctor to make a house call, and he had immediately prescribed you antibiotics and told you to stay home. It took you a while to convince Harry to sleep separately.

“I don’t want you to get sick too.” You said with difficulty, because your throat was aching. “I’ll go to the guest room and turn on the air purifier.”

But he refused. He took the guest room, although he spent as much time with you as his work allowed. When the situation allowed, he tried to work from home, exchanging messages with you if you needed anything. It took you two days to take a shower, and in the meantime, he quickly changed your sheets.

Harry Castillo was the perfect caregiver, and you couldn’t remember anyone ever taking such good care of you. And when he mentioned you were sick during a conversation with his mother, she asked her cook to prepare broth for you, which was quickly delivered to her son’s apartment.

“If I hadn’t stopped her, she would have come here to take care of you.” Harry said with a smile, placing a tray of steaming soup on your bed.

"She's wonderful." You replied, your voice slightly hoarse. "But I wouldn't want her to end up like me. You're different."

"Yeah, I'm a volunteer." Harry burst out laughing.

His mother liked you from the first time you met, even though you were totally scared and tense at the time. The Castillos' house was impressive, surrounded by a beautiful garden and a tennis court, but his parents turned out to be really warm and wonderful people. They immediately invited you to visit more often, even without Harry, to which you only responded with a polite smile.

Your relationship was blossoming and it didn't interfere with your work at all, which you were a little afraid of. You were still sitting at your desk, still doing what you were doing, only in the office next door was a man you really loved and with whom you went home.

"I'm back! Dr. Phillips said I can go back to work now, so you can't keep me at home anymore." You threw your bag on the console by the wall and took off your shoes. "Harry?"

You entered the living room and stopped dead in your tracks. There were two suitcases in the middle, which confused you a little.

"Harry?" you repeated in a slightly surprised voice, he came out of the kitchen wiping his hands with a towel. "Are you going somewhere?"

"No, we're going together" he replied smiling.

You frowned. "No. Mr. McMurphy clearly invited us to his place next month. I read his email" you replied, pulling your phone out of your pocket and quickly scrolling through it. "Yes, that's exactly what he wrote".

"We're not going to Los Angeles, honey. I'm taking you somewhere else".

The confusion and disorientation on your face were so adorable that Harry wanted to kiss you. "We're going to Italy, baby, Rome to be exact".

Even more surprise. Now you were looking at him as if he had completely lost his mind. "Why?" you finally blurted out.

“Remember when we were at our favorite Italian restaurant a few weeks ago, you said it would be great to eat real pizza in Rome while watching the sunset and the Colosseum?”

"Harry... People say things like that, but that doesn't mean you have to do it right away..."

He walked past the suitcases and approached you, smiling like he thought it was a lot of fun.

"But we can. And we will. I've already taken care of everything, with Susan's help. Now you should relax somewhere warm and beautiful. Rome is perfect for that."

"But Harry..."

“No buts. We’re leaving the day after tomorrow.” He said, placing his hands on your hips and kissing your forehead. The decision had already been made, you had no say in the matter. “We have to stay until Saturday because my mom absolutely wants to see us for dinner tomorrow. She said you must look really hungry after being sick and that she’ll make your favorite dessert.”

You rolled your eyes because you knew you couldn't win with him. "Sometimes you can be insufferable, you know? You're lucky I love you."

“Yes, I’m lucky.” He mumbled, leaning down and kissing you.

You didn't know what you had done to deserve what happened to you with this guy. Harry made you want to be a better person, while knowing that who you were was enough. He brought out the best in you, and you loved him for how warm and caring he was, and how safe you felt with him.

Harry felt like he had finally found what he had been looking for for so long - he felt complete. You gave him a sense of peace and stability. You loved him the way he always wanted to be loved by a woman, and when he showed you his vulnerability, you accepted him completely, just the way he was. He couldn't have been happier.

But you didn't know that when Harry was packing that evening, a small velvet box was hidden in his suitcase, between his shirts. And what neither of you knew was that you wouldn't be coming back from this trip alone...

☆☆☆☆

If you're reading this, thank you for taking this journey with me.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

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[reidsdimples]

Feverish

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+ ❤️‍🔥

Spencer can’t keep his hands off of you in his fever induced delirium.

Inspired by a scene from The Tearsmith (on Netflix)

“What happened?” You ask Morgan who’s got Spencer’s arm draped over his shoulder.

Spencer is out of it, delirious, coated in sweat. Yet he grins at you.

“Popped for the flu, probably from those kids earlier this week,” Morgan answers as he puts Spencer in the passenger seat of your car.

“I knew the flu shot was a waste of time,” Spencer muses. “It’s an educated guess at best as for what strain will circulate through the population,” he scoffs and shoves on sunglasses.

“Wonderful,” you groan.

“You’ve already been sick this season, you’re probably fine,” Spencer mumbles and lulls his head back in the seat.

“I think that’s why he said to call you,” Morgan smiles.

“Well, it’s great to see you again. Stay safe,” Morgan hugs you by way of farewell.

Taking care of your sick ex boyfriend on your long anticipated three day weekend was not high on your bucket list. But here you were.

You drop into the car next to him and he’s already fast asleep. Feeling his forehead, you confirm that he’s burning up.

You and Spencer had ended things amicably four weeks ago. Your crazy schedule as a labor and delivery nurse didn’t mesh well with his chaotic FBI job. It didn’t mean you didn’t care for him. Perhaps that made seeing him so sick that much harder.

“Come on,” you help him from the car and into your house.

He stumbles up the front steps but you’re able to hold him up.

“Sorry, dizzy,” he murmurs.

“It’s okay,” you place your hand at the center of his chest, pushing yourself under his arm further to support his tall frame. The heat coming off of him could almost burn you.

You had never been more grateful that you opted for a one floor house. You imagined getting him up a flight of stairs would be impossible.

“Here,” you sit him on the edge of your king sized bed but he just flops onto his side, tucking his face into your pillow. He breaths in deeply, you can hear how congested he is.

You hurry to your medicine cabinet to get him a concoction of fever reducers.

“Take this,” you sit him up.

He barely opens his eyes, just groggily obeys and trusts the pills you’re giving him. He knows you’d never do anything to hurt him.

You wipe the water from his lips gently. He purses his mouth as though to kiss the pad of your thumb longingly.

You slowly undo the buttons of his shirt, you needed to cool him down. He’s drenched in sweat.

“Sit up,” you pull him up with a hand on the back of his neck and push the shirt off of his shoulders. Your eyes trace his body longingly, but only for a moment.

You gently lay him back down and start undoing his converse so he can get more comfortable. He groans at the movements as you tug the shoes off and discard them, adoring his mismatched socks.

You brush his hair from his forehead and prompt him to open his eyes. He does but they’re heavy with fatigue.

“You’re going to be fine Spence, just tell me if you need anything,” you whisper.

You gently caress his cheek, his eyes fluttering closed. You relax your hand in the center of his bare chest, unable to help how drawn to him you are. You missed him. His lean body with the thin sheen of sweat had your heart fluttering. Touching him was too much, too overwhelming. You sigh and stand from the bed.

His arm wraps around your waist and he tugs you weakly back into the bed. You fall half onto him and half next to him.

“Don’t go,” he murmurs and buries his face in your stomach like you’re all he’ll ever need. You run your hands through his long hair and hold him close to comfort him. It doesn’t even bother you that his hair is damp, you just want to help him.

He pulls you more onto him and twists his hands into your shirt. You’re nearly straddling him now, leaning over him as he groans and begs for you to be closer.

“Spence,” you warn.

He nudges his face into your abdomen, between your breasts. He’s so out of it you doubt he’s even aware of his actions. His mouth clamps over your nipple which is hardening through your shirt. This is so wrong, but it feels so fucking good.

Your body reacts to him, your hips grinding down against his. You can’t help it.

Your tank top rides up and his mouth trails sloppily against your now exposed skin, causing you to suck air through your teeth harshly. He’s kind of kissing you, but more seemingly needing to touch you with his mouth. He leaves moist trails of kisses against your stomach. He grapples at your body, he’s needy, he’s panting. He’s whimpering against you.

He’s burning up.

“Shhh, Spence,” you sink down next to him and nestle into the crook of his arm.

You push away your arousal. That was not happening right now.

Besides, clear headed Spencer wouldn’t touch you that way after breaking up.

“Need you,” he moans.

“Not right now baby,” the nickname slips out. It was habit.

His buries his face in the crook of your neck, he’s breathing hard as his hand trails down your body. He digs his nails into the soft skin on your hips and squeezes lovingly. His fingertips move down the plane of your stomach and graze just under the edge of your waistband but he goes no further. You take in the sight of his large hand on your body again, those fingers, the way the muscles and veins move as he does. Your traitorous pussy clenches around absolutely nothing. Ugh.

He begins to kiss the soft spot of your neck and you can’t help but to tilt your head to give him better access. His hand moves up to squeeze your breast, pulling a moan from you. God you needed him so bad. But he was so sick. His desperation for you was driving you mad.

You hear him shudder as a chill washes over him. But he ignores it, moving so his laying on you, kissing your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. His eyes are still closed, heavy with sickness. But he slides his strong arms under you to hold you even closer to him as he continues to kiss and sucking at your neck. He nudges your tank top down and pulls your nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

“Ah, Spencer. Baby,” you writhe beneath him, but he’s got you pinned.

He kisses you until he can’t anymore, until his grip on you grows weaker and his mouth lingers on you longer.

He grows tired and rests his head on your chest. He keeps you beneath him, most of his body weight laying between your legs. His head rests on your stomach as he starts to doze off. His warm breath fans against your skin.

You push your hand into his hair to keep him right where he is. He’s absorbing your body heat, his breathing beginning to slow.

A content sigh escapes his chest and he finally falls asleep.

You can still feel the ghosts of his hands and lips, messy and needy on your body. It’s like he was devouring you, like you were the only thing that could save him. He was absolutely out of his mind, acting on instinct and primal need despite being sick. It’s like he couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop himself from touching you.

[tetragonia]

Midsummer's Heat

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

When your best friend, Rafe, takes you from the suffocating Midsummer party and leads you to a quiet tower just to ruin the friendship you two have.

warning: mmm nothing just slowburn smut bc i think i'll get my period in a few days lol. whatever they're having (kissing, fingering, penetrating) are consensual

words: 2.7k (i mean rafe literally talks you through it)

The hum of laughter and clinking glasses fades as you follow Rafe down a narrow path through the trees, away from the brightly lit Midsummer's party to a lounge tower. The crowd, the noise, and the pressure to act like the perfect Kook have been draining, and you’re grateful for the escape.

He turns to you with that familiar smirk, the one he always had back at the academy. You used to give him a hard time about that smirk. Now though, it brings back a flood of memories, and you can’t help but smile. He’s always been protective and gentle, all best friend material. Or maybe that could change tonight.

"All these years, you were never above all this Midsummer’s crap," Rafe says, crossing his arms as he leans back against the pillar, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that you feel in your bones.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "I am above it. I just thought it’d be nice to get dressed up and pretend, for once. But as soon as I got there, I regretted it."

He chuckles, reaching out to tug playfully at the hem of your dress.

“And this is how you protest Midsummers? By looking like... that?” His voice dips, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

“Shut up,” you mutter, though you don’t pull away. “Like you’re one to talk. You look like you were made for these ridiculous parties.”

“Guess we’re both hypocrites, huh?” he says softly, his tone uncharacteristically serious. You’re close enough now that you can see the way his jaw tightens, the flicker of something in his eyes that isn’t just amusement.

It’s almost instinctual, the way you move closer to him. Suddenly, you’re not sure if it’s the night air, the thrill of sneaking away from everyone, or just the warmth of his body next to yours, but your heart is racing.

"Rafe, remember how you used to skip out on these things back in school?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "We’d hide away and talk about how we’d never end up like all of them."

He nods, his gaze locked on yours, and his expression softens. “Yeah. Guess we lied to ourselves a little, huh?”

“Maybe,” you murmur, stepping even closer. His hand moves to your waist, lingering there, and suddenly, the air between you thickens. It’s as if something you’ve both kept buried for so long has come rushing to the surface, and neither of you is willing to push it back down.

The next thing you know, his lips are on yours, tentative at first, almost as if he’s testing the waters. But when you respond, threading your fingers through his hair, he pulls you closer, his kiss deepening with a hunger that sends a spark racing through your body. The rough bark of the shed digs into your back as he presses you against it, his hands finding your waist and holding you as if he’s afraid to let go.

You break the kiss, gasping slightly, your forehead resting against his as you catch your breath. His hand slides up, fingers tracing the curve of your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and ragged, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, breathless, barely able to think of anything other than the way he’s looking at you right now.

“Yeah, Rafe. I’m sure.”

He doesn’t hesitate this time, pulling you into another kiss, one that’s hungrier, needier. You can feel the heat building between you, the feeling of being utterly consumed by the moment. You don’t care about Midsummer, or the people waiting back at the party.

Rafe’s hands roam up and down your sides, drawing you even closer as he trails a line of slow, deliberate kisses down your neck. You tilt your head back, breath catching in your throat as he pulls you tighter against him. The world outside feels like a distant memory, the party, the people, and even the usual self-consciousness fades away under his touch.

Your eyes flicker open briefly, just enough to glance around the small space. It’s dark, and the shadows shield you both, but the thrill of sneaking away fills you with a sudden rush of uncertainty. You turn your head slightly, Rafe’s mouth never leaving your skin.

“Rafe,” you whisper, breathless, and he pauses, warm lips hovering against your collarbone. His eyes meet yours, a question lingering in their depths.

“This place… are you sure it’s safe?” you glance around again, your voice soft but with a hint of worry. “No one can see us up here, right?”

He leans in, his forehead brushing against yours as he gives you a reassuring nod, a small smile on his lips.

“Promise, this crib got those very thick mosquito nets,” he murmurs, his voice a deep, soothing rumble. “No one knows we’re here, and they wouldn’t dare come looking for me anyway.”

Satisfied, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and Rafe’s hands slide around to the small of your back, pulling you against him once more.

“Good,” you breathe, your heart racing as you feel the solid warmth of him against you.

He picks up where he left off, his mouth returning to the sensitive spot just below your ear, and this time, there’s a newfound urgency in his movements. His hands roam your body, each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake, and he’s so close that you can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat matching yours. You can’t hold back anymore, your own hands tracing his shoulders, pressing him closer as if you could melt into him entirely.

Rafe’s mouth finds yours again, and this time, the kiss is fierce, almost desperate, a shared longing you’ve both been holding back for too long. His fingers tangle in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you can feel the warmth of his breath, the roughness of his hands, the way he makes you feel completely and utterly alive.

His lips trail back to your neck, and as he presses you against the wooden wall of the shed. His hands glide down, hooking around your thighs to lift you up. You instinctively wrap your legs around him, his body pressing against yours with a delicious weight that leaves you dizzy. The world outside slips further away, nothing but shadows and whispers in the distance.

“Can’t believe it took us this long,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough and breathless as he plants kisses along your collarbone, his hands slipping under the hem of your dress, his touch igniting every nerve.

Your fingers trace down his back, holding him close, letting the heat between you both build until you’re lost in the rhythm of his kisses, the warmth of his touch, the feeling of being completely and perfectly his, if only for this stolen moment.

He gives you a soft, reassuring smile as he leans down, gently guiding you to sit, his hands warm and steady as they hold yours. His touch is firm but gentle, every movement deliberate, as if he’s savoring each second with you.

“You comfortable?” he asks quietly, his voice low and soothing, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

You nod, breathless, your pulse quickening as he reaches out, his fingers tracing a slow path along your thigh. His touch is warm and delicate, a quiet promise of what’s to come. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand slipping lower, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Just tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, gliding his fingers down and tracing gentle circles that make you shiver, his movements slow and patient. You feel the warmth of his touch, the careful way he explores every inch, making you feel seen and cherished.

You close your eyes, letting yourself relax into the sensation, the softness of his touch and the comfort of his presence. You shiver, both from what he does and from the wind. Rafe still guides you through it, his hand steady and sure with eyes never leaving yours.

His fingers move in a circle, faster and curl deeper. They scratch you in the right place, stretching you open with blazing lust.

“Just breathe, alright?” he says softly, his left hand resting on your hip, holding you. “I’ve got you. It’s just us here.”

You feel his fingers move faster and he watches you, reading every response, adjusting his movements to make you feel completely at ease.

“Rafe, I—”

You couldn’t even continue, as Rafe plays faster. Your knees go weak, hands scratching the sofa. Your eyes flutter in an ecstasy.

“Yes, Sweetheart?” his voice soft, but also there’s a hint of a ragged breath. His desire starts to pool between his pants.

You feel the warmth of his breath as he leans closer, whispering words of reassurance, a steady presence guiding you through the intimacy of the moment.

“I—I’m about to—” you bite your lips, letting a soft moan into the night. “Rafe, I’m—”

“Don’t hold it, Sweetheart,” Rafe kisses your lips, leaving you shuddering as you finally collapse into his fingers. He smiles and looks proud.

“You’re doing so good,” he says, as he shifts and takes off his belt. You gulp, this is going to be the first time after everything. You’re ready to ruin your friendship with Rafe.

You watch as Rafe unzips his pants. His bowtie hangs loose, his suit lying somewhere. He moves on top of you, hands slowly tracing your inner thigh. You shudder.

Rafe bends down, spreading your legs even wider and kisses your right knee. And then the left one. And he gets closer to your inner thigh, kisses it tenderly.

“God, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?” Rafe looks up, lips parting. “I’ve been wanting this for so long, and now that you’re here… I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” you murmur, trailing your fingers on his hair, don’t even want to waste any second. “Show me just how much you’ve wanted this.”

“Yeah?” Rafe moves on top of you, pressing his lips on yours and letting you taste yourself. He groans softly against your lips, pausing for a moment to kick his pants and throw it somewhere. He stands tall in front of you.

You’re in awe. It’s so big, and hard. You’ve seen enough videos to know the perfect size, and this is more than perfect. Rafe walks closer, he helps you take off your dress, as you both need it no more. He throws it to the floor as you start to breath heavily, adrenaline taking you.

“It’s so big, Rafe,” you let out a shaky breathe when Rafe put himself between your thigh. He starts to caress your breasts with his fingers, bending down and kissing them slowly.

“I know you’d take it so well, Pretty Girl,” he takes his time to answer before sucking your nipples. His tongue moves in circle, biting it softly. You groaned and throw your head, feeling hot. And before you know, Rafe stands tall and closer, and starts to brush your fold with his tip.

“You’re so wet already, Baby,” Rafe groans softly, pushing it gently and starts to relax inside you.

“Rafe!” you moaned, in pleasure and pain. “I have never taken anyone before.”

Hearing your confession, you could feel it twitches. “I’d be gentle with you, Sweetheart. You’re taking me so well.”

Rafe starts to hump his hips towards yours, as both moaned in pleasure. Rafe kisses you, as your fingers digging his back and your legs squeezing his waist.

“Yes,” you gasp, starting to feel the rhythm. “Don’t stop. Please. Please.”

“You feel so good, you know that?” Rafe’s voice drops lower, a little rougher now, as his fingers trail down your breast. “I could do this all night.”

You fit around him like perfection, letting out whimpers when he hits the spot over and over until you’re worked up. As his touches grow rougher, his breathing becomes heavier, and he lets out a soft growl as he pulls you against him.

“You’re driving me insane, you know that?” he whispers, his hands gripping your waist firmly. “I can’t control myself when I’m with you… you make me lose it.”

Rafe growls softly, telling you how good you feel, you give him a mischievous smile, trailing your fingers down his chest. You feel his lips trail down your collarbone, his voice a low murmur against your skin.

“Eyes on me, Pretty Girl,” Rafe groans, and you force your eyes to stay open. It’s so hard when the pleasure tries to drown you. “You’re so tight and you’re taking me so well. Don’t hold back, baby. Let me hear you.”

You don’t leave his gaze, intense and full of desire. Even when your eyes flutter, you try to look at his pretty face.

“Come on, I want to know that I’m the one making you feel this way,” Rafe’s voice is both commanding and tender.

“Yes, Baby,” you try to keep your eyes open. “Oh, Rafe—”

You let out a moan, louder than before when Rafe thrusts faster, rougher. His movement fills with an unrestrained hunger that’s impossible to ignore, picking up his pace.

“Very good, Sweetheart. You’re all mine, got it?” he kisses you hard, his grip firm on your hips. “No one else gets to see you like this. Just me.”

Your breaths come quicker, your hands grasping at him, needing more as the world around you fades into a blur. The only things you’re aware of are his touch, his breath against your skin, and the steady, overwhelming connection between you.

In the quiet of the shed, hidden away from the world, Rafe holds you close, moving with you as if you’re the only two people left on earth. His hands are firm yet tender, as if he’s savoring this as much as you are. You feel yourself slipping away, surrendering to the sensations, the heat, the rhythm between you both that seems to pull you deeper into a place where only the two of you exist.

“I don’t think I could ever let you go… not after this,” he kisses you again, softer this time, but his eyes still burn with that undeniable need. “You’re perfect. And I want every inch of you.”

“Good,” you murmur, your fingers running through his hair. “I like it when you lose control.”

As you move together, you can feel Rafe’s breathing grow heavier, each breath coming faster, more ragged. His grip tightens, his hands slipping down to hold you even closer, as if he’s grounding himself in you. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes half-closed, his gaze flickering between desire and a raw, unspoken need.

He whispers your name, his voice low and filled with a quiet desperation.

“Baby… I’m… I’m so close,” he murmurs, his hand gently cradling the back of your neck as his lips brush yours. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, something soft and real that he’s letting you see, and it makes your heart race even faster.

He leans into you, pressing you closer, his movements becoming a little more frantic, more intense, as if he’s no longer able to hold anything back.

“Rafe!” you cry in joy when he bends, sucking your nipple roughly. As he leaves more marks on you, he thrusts faster, deeper, and needier.

“Stay with me,” he breathes, his voice breaking slightly as he loses himself in the moment. “Please… Baby, I’m coming.”

You hold him tightly, feeling him tremble against you, and suddenly it feels warm. You catch your breath, he does the same. As he finally lets go, you feel the weight of everything he’s kept hidden lets down just for you. It leaves you both breathless, completely wrapped up in each other.

And as he looks at you, his eyes filled with something you’d never thought you’d see—something tender and raw—you know that this is a moment you’ll remember long after Midsummer fades into memory.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

🧠🪱Wiggly Wednesday🪱🧠

(This one ran away with me, whoops)

Batboy_Kas: Um ... dude, what? 🤨

This is the dm that greets Steve when he pulls his phone from his back pocket to check his Instagram. One confused frown, some scrolling, and one near-heart-attack later, he concludes that he forgot to lock his screen when he put the phone away earlier.

Which caused him to somehow end up on this random stranger's profile.

And go to his DMs.

And send him a GIF.

Not just any GIF. One of a grotesquely round and jiggly, animated ass. There's a text beneath the GIF. It reads: 2iggnag lg9gajdgka hfhdgjy.

"Aw, fuck!" Steve swears, neck prickling with heat as he types his reply.

Steve_Hairington: Shit, sorry. My ass typed that 😅

Batboy_Kas: Fitting choice of gif 🍑

Steve_Hairington: Yeah I guess

Batboy_Kas: You could say it's a ... smart ass

Steve snorts a laugh. What a dork! He's still debating if he should reply or leave it at that when Batboy_Kas sends his next message.

Batboy_Kas: So ... not even the tiniest chance you were flirting with me?

Steve_Hairington: Sorry dude. I prefer my men-

(He pauses to squint at the guy's profile pic. A cute little cartoon bat.)

-a little more human-shaped.

Batboy_Kas: Hey! That's just bc you've never had a creature of the night b4 🦇😉

Steve_Hairington: 🤣🤣🤣 Nice try, bat boy!

They end up texting (and flirting) regularly. Kas - named after some vampire dude from that dungeons and dipshits game Dustin enjoys - is a huge fantasy and music nerd, can keep up a string of banter for hours, and his dms quickly become the highlight of Steve’s days.

He knows better than to meet random faceless and nameless strangers from the internet, he really does. But when Kas says he's in town for work some two months later, Steve is a bit embarrassed at how fast he agrees to a date.

Kas doesn't really beat the vampire allegations when he shows up at their meeting point, skittish and nervous, clad in an oversized Metallica hoodie, drawn all the way over his head inspite of the sunny weather, dark shades obscuring his eyes.

He's cute, though. Sweet and almost shy without the distance and a screen between them, but still with that quick wit and edgy sense of humor Steve has come to like so much. A deep, rich voice that makes something inside Steve’s belly tingle, a hint of dark curls spilling out from his hood, and strong, calloused hands covered in rings, the edges of black tattoos disappearing into his sleeves. It makes Steve wanna take the stupid hoodie off him so that he can see all of him.

Which is exactly what he does when they take it to Kas's hotel room later that night. And God, the man is gorgeous. Dark, messy curls framing a pair of insanely dark brown eyes and the poutiest lips Steve has ever had the pleasure of kissing. An intricate web of tattoos that are just begging to be traced with his tongue.

Later, when they're lying together in an exhausted tangle of naked limbs and sweaty sheets, Steve snaps a photo and saves it as his phone background. He doesn't think much of it.

Until a week later, when Dustin opens his phone to read out a message while Steve is driving and starts shrieking so loudly they almost crash into a tree, bc why the fuck does Steve have a selfie of himself and Eddie Munson - frontman of the world famous metal band Corroded Coffin - on his phone and are you both naked, Steve???

Tagging some friends to share a brainworm of their own:

@cuips-not-cute @steddiecameraroll @postmodernau @oh-stars @steddie-island

@wynnyfryd @pennyplainknits @medusapelagia @hotluncheddie @sidekick-hero

[aernx]

CLOSE TO YOU ⋆ lee heeseung

"pull the trigger on the gun i gave you when we met"

ㅤ ׅ 𝄂 𝄞ㅤ He's gone now, out of reach. Under the gleams of glamour, stands the boy you longed for, not quite a lover nor a friend. The line between them was a blur, and you think it's too late, not when he's already chased by the spotlight. So you do what you love─you write. It's harmless at first, a little song you wrote and posted on TikTok for fun, just to let go of your feelings, clearly not expecting it to blow up and reach the ears of your muse.

──── wc. 4.8k

⤿ warnings: yearning, angst (with comfort), college au, kissing

AERNOTES ꫂ❁ lots of plotholes prob but wtvrr NOT PROOFREAD!! TYPOS!!! kinda bad guys wrote this when i was like mad n annoyed N ALMOST MADE IT SAD ENDING but it's not!! dw happy smiles only 😼

this fic is inspired by the song close to you by gracie abrams !

"I don't have a single problem with provocative." Your shoulders opted for a small shrug, the bone bumping with the red polyester of Yujin's tracksuit. Your friend scoffed in return, her tone reeking of disbelief. Sneaker soles thump against creaky floorboards. Currently, your body is walking to class, but your mind has drifted someplace else, occupying your vacant thoughts with repressive ones.

Before you even know it, you are greeted by cushioned chairs and stairs of long tables. You grip the strap on your backpack a little tighter─like it was the last thing grounding you in the lecture hall before you float away like a balloon filled with helium. You try to imagine yourself as that, free enough to stay buoyant and not chained in one place.

The room is eerily quiet. You and Yujin must've been a few minutes too early. You two moved slowly through the place, not wanting to draw the attention of the already present students, each immersed in their own private affairs. Clicks of keyboards echoed throughout the hall, the noise colliding with distinct music in the background. You settled into the seats at the center. Not too close to be noticed─but not too far to lose focus.

Yujin shifted her gaze towards you, eyes expectant, like she already knew the secret you hid in your metaphorically locked journal before asking you for the key. "You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" Bingo.

You try to scan the empty chairs before you because you can't look at Yujin, not right now. Not when she can read you like an A1 poster on the billboard. "You should move on. He left, just like that, no explanation. And suddenly BOOM! His face is all over the internet." Your friend's advice went in the left ear and left through the right. Though the reminder itself was enough to return that gut-wrenching feeling in the pit of your stomach.

He always wanted to be a renowned singer and songwriter.

You weren't mad at him─no. He's chasing his dreams like he once said to you, back when he would confess all his yearnings and hopes for the future to you like a secret meant to be kept as his fingers stayed entwined between yours. You were just disappointed. After all, he talked about his plans as if you were in them.

But one day, he just disappeared. Gone were the sounds of his laughter in the hallways, the ones that always reminded you of hot chocolate on a winter night. Only his traces remained, the black hoodie he left accidentally in your dorm, the little notes of poetry he wrote for you to occupy his boredom, the little things that would be a constant reminder─reminder that he was there. It's the quiet things, items that blur in the background but also haunt your setting in the meantime.

Then you realize, you don't owe him anything. You're not his lover, just a friend who tethers in the line between. "I guess I wasn't just that important to him." Your whisper is light, though it is weighed with something heavier. The feeling makes you feel like you are sinking in a pit of quicksand; the more you move, the faster you will drown.

"Yn, you realize what you just said, right?" Yujin sneered before continuing her point. "That boy was head over heels in love with you. Everyone with a pair of eyes could see it. He just didn't dare to confess."

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, not fully believing her remark. Though a deep part of you longed for it to be true, echoing a silent wonder. It won't change the present. You tuck that feeling back into the bottomless pit as you resurface to the shore. But it would change the way you see him.

"He doesn't, Jinnie. Quit your fantasies."

Yujin irked her eyebrow at your reply, like she knew your denial was coming. You hate it─hate that you are so easy to read for her. How your eyes gave away all the emotion you bottled, and in a single glance, Yujin can decipher them all. "Have you ever heard any of his songs? Babe, they're all clearly about you."

You pick the strings of your old guitar gently. The feeling is foreign but also familiar─nostalgic. Your fingers still against the instrument all of a sudden as you realize. It was your first time picking up the guitar after he left. Thousands of memories flooded through your mind, drowning you in the process. You try to swim against the current, fight back all the past memories haunting you with all your might, before your mind pulls you down to a specific memory of him.

BEFORE

A string of melodies echoed through the small walls of your dorm. Heeseung and you sat in the center of your bed, legs crossed and facing each other. Your acoustic guitar sits proudly on his thighs as he serenades you with the symphony of your dream.

"That is a song I wrote." His confession is delivered through a whisper as he finished, and you catch it like a lone firefly amidst twilight. "It's beautiful, Hee." Your eyes are wide─dazed, from the song or from him, you don't know.

(a/n: if u r curious, hee's song in this one is blue by kamal)

The boy downplayed your compliment; the flush on his ears remained hidden underneath the hood of his black hoodie. "I'm serious!"

"Yes, but your song was better." There is no insincerity laced beneath his tone, but one full of genuine praise instead. If there was anything common you share with Heeseung, it's your love for music and songwriting.

There is a certain epiphany in it, how you hide easily between the chorus and the verse. That when you write and you sing, there is no line to cross, no boundaries to jump over, and no expectations to exceed. You blend with the melody, fingers strumming the strings of your guitar as your voice ventures through the lyrics like a forbidden emotion, messy and unkept, but doesn't make it less valuable.

Though your passion burns deeply along the symphony of music, you're not brave enough to dwell in it. Your love for music is strong, but your value in stability in life is stronger. But Heeseung is different. Courage rushes deeply in his veins, and he is not afraid to fail. Not if it leads to an opportunity to live the life of his dreams.

You drown in the eyes of the boy before you, an ocean of emotion so deep that you would gladly suffocate in it. The tension is thick and his gaze is heavy. Your mind is already shifting elsewhere, and Heeseung's eyes wonders a little to long on your lips.

Your mind is frozen, and so are your limbs, like your brain has no longer gained control of its movements. Anticipation flared like an angry flame at the center of your heart, merging with a sense of desire you've been suppressing all this time. Your eyes are still locked, and no one dared to make a move.

Until he did. His touch is light on your skin, uncertainty brushing through the contact. The taste of his skin on yours makes you want more─more of him. His fingers graze your cheeks, movement slow and gentle, like he was caressing a precious sculpture in the museum, priceless and guarded.

"You are freezing, Yn." You don't even notice how cold the room is─how your body is trembling under his touch. Not when he's a few centimeters away from you, his own body heat radiating towards you like a bonfire in the cold forest.

He's moving, faster than your mind can comprehend. And suddenly, something warm is draped on your shoulders, similar to a hug in the cold, harsh night. His hoodie is gone now─no longer his. The thick fabric swallows your figure, blanketing you from the temperature.

"That's better."

Heeseung smiled, pleased at how you looked before, drowning in his hoodie. He doesn't make any effort to hide his containment, triggering your heart to triple its rhythm like a metronome.

His hand is now on yours, his digits enveloping your own like a silent prayer. There is a certain shift in his eyes, and he's holding onto you like you would float away if he let go. Your other hand hovered over his, a reminder that you're here and you're not going away─not ever.

Heeseung opened his mouth, yet no words came out of it. His eyes tell a thousand stories behind just one glance, and you want to memorise them all in your head and embed them in your soul. Your gaze ventured to his features, the slight crease of his eyebrow, and the uncertainty masking his visage. He's hiding something from you, but you don't push─you never do. Because you don't want him to grovel before you like he was forced to, you want him to unfold.

"Yn I...I lo-" He stops himself, his grip on your bedsheet is hard enough for it to crumple under his fist. "I have to go." Confusion took over your demeanor, making the guilt pooling in Heeseung's heart worsen.

"Are you okay?" Worry bled in your tone as you looked up at his now standing figure.

"I'm fine."

You're still cross-legged on your bed, gaze locked on him like he was the answer to all of your prayers. Heeseung thinks that if you begged him to stay with you, right here, right now, he wouldn't have the heart to leave. "I have to go, Yn." His hand is on the doorknob, the muscle of his arm pulls the lever down before creaking the door open.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right? At class?" Your question lingers in the air, frozen for a minute as Heeseung stayed amidst the open door, almost as if he was hesitant to leave. "Y-yeah."

He didn't turn his head when he closed the door, because if he did, he wouldn't trust himself to leave, not when you're there, eyes glued on him, looking like the answer to his prayers.

That was the last time you saw him.

PRESENT

Tears spilled unwillingly against your cheeks, dampening your features with a touch of sadness and longing. You missed him, and no amount of denial is ever going to stop that feeling from surging in, invading your mind with his lingering presence.

It's almost like you could feel him behind you. Back pressed against his chest, his fingers atop your own on the string of the guitar as you both play a melody you've grown accustomed to.

And before you know it, your hand grows a mind of its own, subconsciously reaching for a pen and your journal on your desk, as it writes away all your feelings blurred in a series of verses and rhymes. You can't stop it─you don't want to, so you give in. Indulging all the pain and yearning into poetry and uniting them under the guise of a symphony. But in reality? It's just a sequence of raw and unfiltered emotions.

You don't know what got over you when you decided to post it─the song, the sound of your heart, but you continue. Fingers that strung the guitar now hovered on the keyboard screen of your phone, typing the caption of your little TikTok video before pressing the post button.

"This is a song I wrote, for the boy I loved. Not a lover, but not exactly a friend either. I see him everywhere except beside me, not like he used to. This is a confession not a demand. Just something I need to get out of my system. I don't expect him to see this, but if he does, this is for you."

The video plays, the string of your guitar echoed through the walls of your white-painted walls.

"I don't got a single problem with provocative..."

Your voice started, gentle as a breeze, though it is woven by hundreds of different emotions. The energy builds up in the chorus, you're strumming your guitar harder, and you're singing louder─more desperate.

"To be close to you Pull the trigger on the gun I gave you when we met I wanna be close to you Break my heart and start a fire, you got me overnight Just let me be close to you, close to you, close to you."

You repeat the last three words as the high goes down. Close to you. Like a whisper─like a plea. And you vision him close, right next to you. You could almost see the smile he harbours. He would've been proud, proud of your courage to share your talent with anyone other than him and Yujin.

Then the music stopped. Your voice came to a halt, and your fingers moved to wipe the tear strumming down your face before sending a small smile to the camera as you ended the video.

You don't expect it to blow up─your TikTok's never do. Not even those little trends you make with Yujin ever went above a thousand views. So you were surprised to see that video having almost 2 million viewers in the span of one night, brimming your notifications with thousands of comments and your DMs with hundreds of others.

You wake up from the sound of a phone call. Yujin, it read, and a thousand missed ones too. Your fingers hovered on the accept button, pressing it as you open your eyes gorggily. "Oh my god, Yn, check your TikTok account, right now!" Her excited sequel pierced your ear like a knife through the head, and you feel like fainting, mind awake, but your body is still in a daze.

You nodded at her words, fingers automatically pressing the music app like it was muscle memory. Though you feel as if a bucket of water is splashed on you as you are greeted by the video you posted impulsively last night. "My best friend is going viral! Babe, you're famous."

Yujin's voice blurred at the backgorund as you skimmed through the comments of said video. Most of them relate to your yearning, and some complement your lyrics and voice.

A notification pinged on your phone, the little message preview teasing you like bait. You gasped as you read the sender's name, almost dropping your phone in the process.

Heeseung I saw the video you posted your song, it's beautiful, and most importantly, it's you I'm so proud of you for sharing it with the world :) let's meet up. I wanna talk but not over text I know you're mad and you have every right to be but please, Yn just hear me out Then you can decide what you want to do from there on

He saw the video and he listened. Once, twice, thrice, you don't know. He also knew, knew that it was about him. Of course it was, who else would it be? You read over his text, again, and again, and again until the words are engraved on your mind like a mark. Like, if you didn't go over them once more, the words would disappear from your screen, mocking you with a hallucination that he cares.

A big part of you is screaming at you to decline, reject him, or worse, leave him hanging. He disappeared for months, you posted a song about him and all of a sudden, he's back?

But there is a small tug in your heart, a puddle of curiosity slowly flowing. You missed his face, his voice. You missed him, and he was about to give you an explanation of why he left without saying goodbye.

You stared at the screen, the grip on your phone slightly loosening as you ventured back to the song you posted a few hours back. You didn't notice it before, but now it's fully drawn to you. You were wearing his hoodie, the one he left on you the night he disappeared.

Your lip is probably bleeding due to how much you've been biting it. The taste of iron slipped to your tongue, unpleasant but not as bitter as the feeling you harbor in your heart right now. You're contemplating the options laid before you. Though before your brain settles on your decision, your heart already makes one for you, taking control over your limbs as fingers typed the messages.

You cover your eyes from the harsh beams of the sun, blocking the light with your hands before entering the cafe in front of you. You look behind the tinted glass, eyes glued to the star that reigned the sky, and you felt like it was mocking you, almost.

The cafe is adorned with a light atmosphere, the breeze of the air conditioner and the view of the greenery from the vertical garden welcomed you in contrast to the blazing sun outside. You went in slowly, steps careful as your eyes ventured to locate a certain someone.

It wasn't hard to. The cafe was empty, with only a lone figure sitting in the corner. Hood above his head and a cap low on his face, an attempt to hide his features with the clothing. It might work for any passerby, but it doesn't work─not for you. You've seen him plenty, too many times, maybe. He was always wherever you were, and he carried himself with a certain poise so distinctive you could spot him even in a sea of people.

You peer closer towards the hunched figure, promptly taking a seat opposite from his. The man finally looked up, noticing the movement before him. And just like that, you locked your gaze with each other as the feelings resurfaced.

You let go of the breath you didn't know you were holding, and the space around you felt like it was shrinking. You feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, like the walls are closing in on you and you're trapped in the center of the madness. The sound of his voice snapped you out of your mind prison, calming you from your own thoughts.

Your heart sinks upon realization. How could he be the disease yet also the cure to this infection you feel invading your heart and mind?

Wooden chair screeched at the friction of movement on the floor, disrupting the music humming gently on the air. "Yn, you're really here."

"I don't leave people hanging." Your tone is sharp, almost crude. Heeseung felt your words cut through like a newly sharpened blade ready to slice its first victim. "I guess I deserved that." His chuckle aired, an effort to remove the heavy tension and your current ill feeling towards him.

But you don't reply─not like you would've a few months ago. Your eyes move, looking at everything but him. "Yn, I'm sorry, I really am. I have a reason, why I disappeared without telling you."

Your head turned at the start of his paragraph, attention now fully averted as he attempts to satisfy your current predicament. "My manager he...he wouldn't let me contact anyone you because he thought it would be bad for my image."

A scoff left your lips, disbelief ringing through the sound, almost mocking his reason. Did he really think you would believe that? "Did your brain stop working after you left college? 'Cause how did you think I would buy that?"

Heeseung bit the inside of his cheeks, the shame settling heavily on his shoulders. You were cold, and he could almost feel the temperature dropping at your remark. He's never seen you like this; he never had the reason to. He hated it, every moment of this meeting. He was expecting you to be mad, yes, but not indifferent. He wants you to scream, push him off, and let out all your anger on him. After all, he booked the whole cafe for this reason only.

"Then what do you wanna hear, Yn?" His voice is low, laced with a blend of frustration. "The truth." Your request is simple, yet it's expensive even for a rising star of the music industry like Heeseung.

The singer took off his cap, ruffling his hair before resting his gaze on yours. "I couldn't." His whisper is like the first snowfall of winter, barely there but easy to catch. You could see all of his face now, his features that have been engraved on your head, the way your fingers memorised every curve and dip of his dimples, and the times you spent kissing his skin with your affection.

He looks different. Not unpleasant, better maybe, but different. There is a subtle change only some would notice, yet it alters with the version of him before─the version of him that was yours.

"Why?" You echo a silent plea, hidden beneath the lace of disdain and disappointment. Heeseung bit his bottom lip, the truth fighting its way out of his tongue. "Because I wouldn't be able to leave if I said goodbye."

A scoff ran through you once more, reeking of incredulity. "I was scared, okay? Scared that if you asked me to stay, I would stay. And I won't bring myself to leave." Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at his reason. Did he really know you at all? In no way would you ever hinder him from chasing his dreams─not when there was an opportunity laid out for him to take.

Disappointment rushed through your veins and straight to the pit of your heart. You shook your head sideways, shifting your legs as you moved out of your seat. You're done, done with Heeseung and everything about him. You're leaving this cafe, along with the remnants of him in the process.

Your back is turned against him as you make your way to the exit. But before you could rush out, you felt a gentle force, anchoring you to stay in your position. "Yn, please." He said the word like a prayer, like he wants to embed it to your head. He'll say it as much as you want as long as it would make you stay.

"I'm sorry, please. Yn, for everything, for leaving without a word."

You're still not facing him, yet your words reached him like it was accustomed to ripping him apart. "If you really did know me, you would've known that I would never ask you to stay. Not when your dream is being handed on a platter right in front of you."

You felt a tug on your entwined hand as the grasp tightened under his hold. "I know that, I know. But I just couldn't imagine saying goodbye. I can't see you crying because it'll only make me stay."

"Too late for that." You whispered, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. You don't want him to see you─not when you're like this, open wounded and bleeding. You try to walk away, you try to untangle your laced fingers but you physically couldn't. Then he moves, fast. All of a sudden he's in front of you, blocking your pathway to the door with his body.

"Yn please, give me a chance." You made your first mistake when you connected your gaze with his. If your heart were bleeding, then he is already dead due to blood loss. You could see it, all the pent-up emotions sewn under his plea. "Why now?" Your voice started small, barely noticeable. But a small spark can easily turn into a large flame, and you are no different. "Why bother now, huh?!" You pushed him off, your bottle of feelings exploding akin to the reaction of mentos dropped into a bottle of coca-cola.

And Heeseung just stood still, not moving an inch even after the harsh shove of your hand on his chest. He succumbed because he knew he deserved it. Leaving you without even a message, an implication that you weren't worth his time. It's not true, of course not. Not when all he ever did at the intensive training was think about you. All the songs he wrote, published, and performed were all for you. But how would you know that in the first place, right?

"I...I was a coward, I was afraid." You stop hitting him but your hands are still on his chest, halting at the sound of his voice. Heeseung faltered under your touch, tears freely running down his perfect face, his mask, one that is carved for the public to see, is now shattering before you. "I thought that it would be easier if I just disappeared. You'll move on and find someone better, someone thats more stable."

His grip is on the sides of your shirt, fist clenched hard enough to mess the straightened garment. He holds on, hard, like thats the only thing keeping you away from slipping past his fingers, from his life. You don't talk, you can't even find your voice. Only your heart remained, broken, bleeding, and laid out in front of him. "Never once did I not think about you. Everyday I would go to your number, I would reread our old chats." He paused, containing himself for a moment before continuing. "I wanted to call you, everyday, every fucking moment. But I was scared."

His breathing is labored, head all over the place. Your faces are drenched now, with tears and suppressed emotions. "My manager said that it would be extremely busy few months before and debuting. So I thought that...that-" His words are broken but they're honest and raw, the sincerity that seeps through it pierced through your heart like an arrow. "But then I─I heard your song and...and-"

And just like that he broke. Legs succumbing to the floor as he fell into his knees. Your eyes widen, surprise taking over your features before attempting to lift him up. "Heeseung, get up. We're in public, this is bad for your image."

"I'm sorry, Yn, please. I'll do anything for you to look at me like before again. Please, Yn."

He's not listening, he's not even trying to. He didn't even care about the public─not right now. Not when his whole world is standing in front of him. "God, Heeseung, get up. Your PR team is going to kill you." You grumble under your breath, mind fully occupied by the boy before you.

But he doesn't budge, his lips echoing more please and more sorries instead. You peered your eyes down to look at him─really look at him. It's pathetic, sure. Rising star Lee Heeseung got on his knees to beg for forgiveness to his not-even-girlfriend. It would make the headlines, definitely.

But then your heart soften ever so slightly. At the way he clung to you like you're his anchor, the only thing holding him ground, like the only purpose for him yo breathe. "Okay, Hee, I forgive you." Your voice is soft, laced with worry and something deeper. "Now stand up."

The singer paused for a second. The words settling slowly on his mind like forbidden knowledge. Then he looked up at you, eyes wide and teary, looking at you like you're the answer to his prayers. "I forgive you, Heeseung. Get up." You repeat once more.

Without wasting another second he got up, long arms engulfing you in a tight hug, a promise─a reminder that he won't let go, not anymore. "I read the caption of your video." He gasped out as you lean on his chest. His fingers caressed the back of your head in a gentle manor, like he was afraid that everything was not real, an illusion his mind made to cope.

"Is it true?." He paused, eyes looking down at you. You met his gaze in the middle, and Heeseung read them all, all of your pent up feelings, love, frustration, anger, doubt, pooling in your vision.

You opted for a small nod, not trusting your voice to not betray you. The boy took a sharp breath upon realization, eyes wide as he looked at you with devotion. His hand trailed up to your shoulder, your neck, then settled on your cheeks. Caressing the skin like it was worth more than the most precious diamond in the universe. His eyes find yours again, now lighting up with a new emotion: desire.

"I love you, Yn."

Heeseung swallowed the air in his throat, gaze averting from your eyes to your lips in circle. You knew it, what he was doing. So you didn't stop him when he leaned in.

It was gentle at first, his lips settled on yours softly, like he's afraid you'll evaporate from his touch. But then you pull him in─closer, on the nape of his neck, channeling all your bottled emotions into the kiss, almost as if he'll disappear again. He meets you halfway, his hand that was on your cheeks tilted your face slightly, deepening the action.

His mouth left yours, though his kisses remained. Trailing your jaw and your neck, peppering them with bliss as you tugged his hair at the feeling. "Heeseung."

He stopped, giving you a small peck before looking at you with his doe eyes, swollen lips, and messy hair. You clenched your fists, ignoring the temptation looming in the depths of your mind.

"Let's go somewhere private."

AERNOTES ! the ending is so rushed but oh well. also pls giv me a tutorial on how to write kiss scenes bc?? IT'S SO HARD N FOR WHAT😭😭

©️ AERNX 2025

[novemberheart]

{overview} You make a wrong turn once or twice

{warnings} fem reader, chapter story, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, some emotional angst

Chapter 35 <- Chapter 36 -> Chapter 37

It was strange how something so small could be so violating.

The tracker had been removed in under ten minutes- it had taken longer for the anesthetics to kick in. Now here you were in a hospital observation room with the little wire in your hands.

Dr. Harrelson wanted to keep you for a few more hours to make sure your symptoms evened out and to make sure you didn't have a reaction to the anesthetics.

The sun was up now. You could see it expanding over the ceiling. There was a knock besides your curtain.

“How are you doing, pup?” Dr. Harrelson questioned. The back of his hand rested against your forehead, a small quirk in his lips at your perfect temperature.

“I feel a lot better physically,” you half chuckled. Your eyes darted down to the small wire that was being twirled between your fingers. “Is there any way we can trace it back to someone?” you asked.

“I don't see why not,” he shrugged. “All your alphas have to do is”-

“No alphas,” you interjected. “I've given them enough trouble in my time with them. This is something I need to figure out on my own,” you emphasized.

You've had more than enough time to think. This tracker had been injected into you years ago. It had nothing to do with your pack now. Why should they be involved in it? Or forced to fix the situation? Looking back now it was a blessing you were alone when this happened.

You couldn't cause any more problems.

Just because you were marked doesn't mean you couldn't be thrown to the curb. It was clear they had no qualms about being apart from you. Maybe it was easier for them. They didn't have to worry about you. They didn't have to change their schedule to accommodate you. It could just be the four of them.

Like the good ol’ days.

“Pup?” Dr. Harrelson pressed. You opened your eyes.

“Where do I go to get this looked at?” You asked. He sighed, scratching at his narrow jaw.

“You can send it to a lab,” he said finally. “There’s one on base. You'll need an alpha to sign off on it though,” he explained.

“Any alpha, or just my alpha?”

“Any,” he sighed once more.

“Dr. Harrelson,” you spoke. His honey eyes softened. “Thank you for helping me. I would also like for you to be my primary doctor. If that's alright with you?” you added. His face softened even more.

“Would be my honor. You’ll have to convince your alphas of that though,” he smiled.

“Anais I need a favor,” you murmured hesitantly.

“What happened? You don't sound too good,” she spoke from the other line. You could imagine the crinkle by her eyes as she spoke.

“I was sick and had to go to the doctors. I'm fine now but I found something. I was hoping you and Briggs could help me,” you explained.

“Why didn't you call me earlier?!? Where are you? We’ll be right there,” she growled from the other end.

“Still at the doctors at the entrance of the omega ward. Thank you, Anais,” you breathed.

The pair were there shortly after she hung up. You didn't see Anais’ alpha a lot- he was a busy man. He had a duffle flung over his shoulder and you already knew Anais had planned to stay the night with you. As soon as she got close you wrapped your arms around her, breathing in her honey scent. The two of you walked side by side, Briggs standing opposingly behind you.

“So they pulled this out of your leg?” Briggs started, holding the small wire between his fingertips. You nodded, a pang shooting through your legs at the thought.

“How come it didn't dissolve?” Anais spoke. You honestly hadn't thought to ask that.

“Defected or something,” you guessed.

“You or the wire?” she questioned, making you giggle.

“Probably both,” you sighed.

“You have any idea who could've placed it?” Briggs hummed, his elbows resting on his knees.

“It would've been around the time if first went into omega holding houses or a little before,” you explained.

“I’m sure you would've felt it being injected. What about when you first arrived at the omega holding house? Don’t they do physicals?” Briggs asked.

“They do. But I kept my pants on the whole time. They just do routine stuff like blood pressure, heart rate, check your eyes and ears,” you explained.

“You said a little before,” Anais began. “Could it be someone from your family? Maybe your grandparents? They were the ones that worried about you,” Anais suggested.

You didn't know what to think. It felt more likely that it was someone from one of your omega holding houses. But why would they want to track you? You never stayed at one long enough to get attached to someone.

“Maybe it's just for scientific reasons?” you spoke. Both their eyebrows quirked. “Like how scientists track sea turtles and things like that. Maybe they track a lot of omegas just to see where we end up or how long it takes before we get scooped up by a pack,” you continued.

“Not a shabby idea,” Briggs hummed. “You satisfied with that though?”

“No,” you replied. “That’s why I need you. I want to send it to the lab on base so they can track who it's from. I just need an alpha to sign off on it,” you explained slowly. Briggs held up a hand to stop you.

“This is something your alphas should do for you”-

“I can't go to them with this!” you sputtered. “You two know that I've been a bit of a troublemaker already. The last thing I need is more problems- especially after being marked. They’d give me the boot,” you admitted.

“I’m going to tell you this as not only an alpha but a friend, that's insulting,” Briggs snapped. Your eyes widened, and you could see Anais shiver from next to you. “Nothing is worse to an alpha than their omega not trusting them to take care of them. Not only that, but your betas would throw a fucking fit too,”

“I understand that Briggs, but you don't know the whole situation”-

“Neither do you,” Briggs interrupted. “You seem to forget that your pack are the top dogs around this place. I don't need them comin’ after me,” he breathed.

“They wouldn't do that! Besides, how would they even know?”

“Nothing happens without the 141 knowin’ about it. Wouldn't be surprised if they already knew about your leg,” Briggs spoke. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

That couldn't be true.

They couldn't know everything.

“Alright,” you agreed. “I shouldn't have expected you to do that. I'm sorry. Both of you,” you whispered, shuffling a bit closer to Anais. The energy in the air had made her uncomfortable. Briggs reached out a hand holding the back of her head and pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead to soothe her.

“Why can't you do it?” Anais pressed, looking up at Briggs. His blonde brows furrowed.

“If they found out. They would separate the two of you,” Briggs added. You didn't quite appreciate the way he spoke about your pack. Sure, they could be a bit extreme in some cases, but they were fair.

“They wouldn’t do that,” you assured.

“Say it’s mine!” Anais yelled suddenly. “The wire,” she clarified.

“I don't know about that”-

“You would do that Anais?” you asked.

“Of course,” she chuckled. “You would do that for me too! Remember that one time I knocked over a display case and you said it was you because you knew you wouldn't get in trouble because of who your pack is,” she giggled, causing a smile to grace your face. Both of you turned to Briggs.

“I guess that could work,” he sighed defeatedly.

You couldn't take it anymore.

In four days it would be a month since you’ve heard from your pack. It wasn't right. It wasn't natural.

The bonds you had worked so hard to build were already fraying.

The flat was no longer theirs. All scent of them had been erased from the surface.

You couldn't believe that they had no time to call you.

They had done it before.

What made this time so different?

You were marked.

They already had you where they wanted you. The courting phase was over. They had gotten what they wanted. An obedient omega waiting for them at home. They didn't need to impress you. They didn't need to win you over.

The bonds you had worked so hard to build were already fraying.

A few days ago, in a moment of weakness, you called Laswell.

A few more rings and it’ll go to voicemail.

“What’s wrong, honey?” The sound of her voice made you sob. Well, sob harder than you already had been.

“When are they coming home?” you gasped out, your hand gripping the neck of your shirt. You could get her growl on the other end. Not against you, but for you.

“I’m not sure, honey. They miss you,” she pressed out, her own eyes watering at the pure anguish in your voice.

“That’s not enough,” you sobbed. “Can I hear one of them? Please?” you begged.

“I can't,” she whispered. “They are fine though, sweetheart. They’re doing everything they can to get back home to you. It’s just- It’s never-ending,” was all she could say.

“That’s not enough,” you gasped out, your phone dropping to the floor.

It was exhausting. Constantly teetering between heartbreak and anger.

What If you left?

How long would it take before anyone noticed?

Anais would know immediately. But who would she tell? Would there be anything anyone could do? What was stopping you from walking off of base right now?

The chip behind your ear might make it a bit challenging.

Your chip.

You hadn't thought about that before. Were they checking it? Could they see that you went to the medical center?

If they had enough time to check the app, they had enough time to call you.

Bastards.

What if they did know that you went to the medical center in the middle of the night? No one bothered to check up on you.

Bastards.

You pulled yourself off the floor trudging into your room. You threw on a sweater, a pair of jeans, and your lace-up shoes. You made your hair semi-presentable.

Could you really do this?

Leave the safety of your flat and head out into the world.

You should at least put on some scent blockers.

Your hand gripped the cold metal of the door handle. You had everything you needed. Vernie cuddled up in the backpack on your back. Your phone, keys and a bit of cash and a card your pack had left you with.

All you had to do was open the door.

All you had to do was open the door.

And move your feet.

Which proved to be harder than opening the door.

All you had to do was get onto the elevator.

That part was easy.

All you had to do was leave the building.

That part was hard.

All you had to do was make your way to the entrance of base.

That part was long.

All you had to do was decide if you wanted to go left, right or straight.

You could always turn back around.

No.

To the right was where the city was. It had the bakery. The store. The aquarium. To the left was the beach.

You didn't know what was straight ahead.

Why not find out?

You stayed a little past the treeline, so nobody could see you from the road. You only had to walk around an hour before you were in a completely different area. It was nice. Suburban. It made you feel safe. Vernie padded alongside you, her leash in her mouth.

“How about a little break?” you questioned, looking down at the pup. She paid you no mind too absorbed in the leaves beneath her paws. You stopped at a gas station, quickly putting Vernie back into the backpack. You grabbed some water and a large fountain soda. The two of you sat on the curb, taking in the world around you. While it wasn't entirely glamorous, it was free- and it was yours.

The leaves had nearly finished turning. Just another thing your pack was missing. In the distance you could see some dark clouds rolling in. Maybe you should turn back? You have proven your point.

To turn back now felt like giving up. Giving up on what you weren't quite sure. Yet, the feeling was enough to move you to stand. Just as you were about to continue Vernie turned, beginning to pull you back the way you came.

“Vernie,” you sighed, gently pulling the pup along. She was as stubborn as you, tugging back on the leash. You looked back up at the sky again. “Maybe you're right,” you grumbled, heading back the way you came.

You were halfway there when the rain started to come down. It started off as a drizzle, you picking up the pace to compensate. That didn't matter much.

You were thoroughly soaked. Your sweater the perfect material to soak up any moisture in the air. You were more concerned about Vernie though. She seemed fine. You had flipped the backpack to your front, holding her against you for warmth. The trees provided some protection, but the wind was strong.

“I’m sorry Vern,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss against her head. You had started to shiver now, the temperature dropping as the clouds blocked the sun. You shouldn't have left. You especially shouldn't have wandered out without a raincoat. “Sorry, Vern,” you apologized again. You just had twenty more minutes till you were home. You didn't want to walk through base like this.

You suppose you deserved it.

Tires screeching to a halt caught your attention. You shrunk back, trying your best to conceal yourself against the treeline. You peaked around as the door of the car slammed shut, a very pissed alpha and beta heading your way.

Hi friends! 👋 See you in three days for chapter 36🫣Hope you are liking section 2 so far!

[stars-eclipsing]

If you take requests or suggestions, might I ask for pegging Mohawk, Sinister, or Lensless Mark? (Take your pick tbh) all of the variants are so pretty I NEED to top, bite and choke them 😔 unfortunately, there is a serious lack of Dom!Reader in this fandom

You can totally ignore this if you want to, I always feel awkward abt writing these cause I don’t want to ever seem rude or entitled 😭

Omg, not at all!!! I love this idea so much hahaah

Also, I completely agree, in regards to all fandoms ngl! So I just decided to put out the content I wanna see, lol

uhh warning very perverted I guess

✩ MOHAWK MARK ➔ Asphyxiation, Reader is like, mean

His eyes roll to the back of his head when the obscene shlick! sound of your strap thrusts into his asshole again. His spine shivers and he moans into the pillow at the feeling of fullness. A feeling that may just be better than the thrill of controlling the entire Viltrumite empire. Just maybe. 

Both of your bodies are slick with sweat, and the air around you is intoxicated by the heady, unmistakable scent of sex. Your legs still haven’t begun to ache from sitting on your haunches for so long, but it’s only because you have practically memorized this position, and the view, too. Besides, your body has already learned its lesson on becoming tired when pleasuring Mark, and it won’t be one it soon forgets. 

“Shit.” He chuckles shakily, shifting slightly to accommodate the fullness, “So are you planning to make me cum by Christmas or what?” 

You pull out, keeping just the tip in, and he groans. “It would be a nice gift.” You hum, then push the pink rubber back into his warm, inviting hole. Your lips form a small smile when you notice a shiver pass through him. “But I'm not so sure you even deserve it.” 

He frowns at your flippant comment, looking behind him to see your calm face. You drag your fingernails gingerly across the length of his spine, helping him subtly into an arch. He takes the hint, although not without a bratty huff under his breath. 

He rests his head back on the soft pillow, a pillow made with material better than silk, worth more than half your internal organs back on Earth. To your gleeful delight, it will be ripped, ruined and discarded. Funny. But honestly, you never really did like him to have nice things too often.

He’s just far too spoiled, in your opinion. 

His eyebrow twitches in annoyance, “Just so you know, I wouldn’t treat you like this.” 

The frustration breaks way to a half-truth. Would your despicable Mark torture you while he was on top? Absolutely. Would he adhere to your set of cruel methods? Not exactly. While he preferred to pull as many orgasms from both of you as possible, you believed in the art of patience. Of drawing out the perfect, warm orgasm that steadily bubbles up from the deepest part of your stomach and burns off your nerve endings when washing through. 

The kind of orgasm he would be reaching for every time he’d sit on his plush bed and draw his hard cock from his pants. He’d stroke the underside of his sensitive dick and think: “I wish my angel were here to help” Though you wouldn’t live to see the day he expresses any sentiment of gratefulness. 

However, Mark believed in patience just as much as he did mercy. In no quantity at all. 

He senses that he hasn't swayed you at all by the way you lightly trace over the skin of his hips, and he sighs. He succumbs to desperate, perverse methods like some kind of whore. 

He shimmies his hips upwards a bit, trying to entice you into fucking him hard like he wants. He whines, “C’mon, baby don’t you want to make your man proud?” He says in the prettiest voice he can muster. 

Sadly, you can read Mark like a book, and all the act does is make you roll your eyes. 

You really can’t teach an old dog new tricks. 

You grab the sides of his narrow hips, and meanly squeeze the fat of his ass, deciding to humor him, “Can I get a please?” 

He sticks his tongue out in distaste at your demand, yet he predictably complies. Though not without uttering the word in the most annoying way possible, “Please–” 

The sentence ends on a choke when you quickly pull the plastic dick out of his hole then slam back in, taking pleasure in the sound that he makes. 

You grip the back of his neck for leverage, and pound his greedy hole into oblivion. Because when has Mark ever even deserved nice things? Even a romantic orgasm would be far too much for him. He was too much of a goddamn leech. 

You press your chest to his back, pushing him further into the mattress, intending to get inside of him as deep as possible. You switch your grip from the back of his neck, to the front, squeezing at his airway mercilessly. 

He chokes, surprised at your boldness. “Oh, fuck– shit, babe.” He laughs shakily, taking perverse joy in your rough treatment. “So good to me, aren’t you?” 

Not bothering to spare him a respectable response, you continue to pound into him like that's what he was made for. You don't grace him even a second to take in a breath. Just the way you fuckin’ like it. 

The lewd sounds of skin slapping fill your bedroom like they were made to be there, and you barely resist squeezing his throat like you’re going to kill him. Keeping it to an every once in a while. 

Though… you honestly can’t resist the sounds of his sweet choking, so you channel all your strength into your fist. Leaving him gripping for purchase on the mattress. 

The sounds of fabric ripping, or his face turning pale don’t deter you. In fact, it does the exact opposite effect, giving you motivation to fuck him harder. He continues to sputter chokes and pleas, but is largely unable to by the unwavering force you have around his neck.

When he starts to shake and twitch uncontrollably, you begin to understand what exactly he’s trying to babble. 

“C-Cu-.” You bite the cartilage of his ear, then let loose on his airway, just so he could spill the words out, “Gonna- fucking–” He stutters hoarsely, and his hips twitch and jerk. 

You hum in affirmation to his warning. Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled.

Using your free hand, you snake it down to his poor, leaky cock, and squeeze its base roughly, delaying his orgasm. 

You let go of his throat and smile when he gasps in a large breath. 

He coughs, "Baby, please, wait--"

“Say please like you fucking mean it.” You lick at his neck, then bite the area harshly, and he screams. You still don’t let up on the abuse your strap-on does to his poor hole. 

“P-Please!” He cries, gasping desperately. You push his face back in the pillow, making sure he struggles for breath, “Please!” You hear him scream into the pillow, muffled. 

You dig your fat cock into the deepest part of him and let go of his dick. You smile when his hip stutters and his dick releases its seed onto the sheets beneath him. 

Weak spurts spill from his tormented cock and he groans. It’s only then that you decide to pull out, making him whine. 

You sigh, tiredly and get off of him. You feel hot, and disgusting, and Mark still somehow got what he wanted. You tsk to yourself.

Silently working on removing the belts from your hips, he rolls on his back to look at you, quirking a brow, ”Why’d you stop?”  

✩ SINISTER MARK ➔ Asphyxiation, oral fixation, dog imagery

Mark’s mouth wraps around the bright pink of your strap-on like it’s a glorified chew toy. You’re lucky it’s not your actual dick. Because with the way he bites, chews, sucks, and drools all over it, you’re sure it would have been a strict off-limits zone for him. 

Your hands move to tangle into his dark, thick hair, petting it softly. Hoping it the action will let up on his aggravation just a tiny bit. 

It works, because he shoves the cock up his mouth deeper, letting out a small choke as he sucks. 

He looks at you with the prettiest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen, waiting for his well-needed praise after such a hard day.

You know if you don’t give it, he’ll have your head. Or at the very least, he'll sulk in a corner. Either case is less ideal than the other.

You coo to him, watching spit drip from his lips and onto his spread thighs, “So good, Mark.” The dribble is everywhere from down his mouth, and you can't tell when exactly the sweat ends and the saliva begins, “You look so pretty like this.” 

His moans are muffled around the pink dick. He takes slow, measured breaths through his nose, so he won’t have to stop for air frequently, and blinks his eyes up lazily at you. Then rolls them. 

Exactly like a pretty puppy. 

Despite the defiance, you still play nice, “Are you going to lube up my dick so it can go in your pretty hole?” His hard dick between his thighs twitches at the reminder, and he does his best to nod with the strap-on in his mouth. He tries to say, “Yes”, but it comes out more like an incoherent garble. 

He tries his best to slide the thick cock from out of his mouth, coughing and sputtering when it’s fully out. He wipes at the dribbles of saliva around his lips, speaking throatily, “Yes, I want to.” 

The plastic cock drips of his saliva, practically soaked in it. Yet, he puts his mouth back on the tip, sucking lightly to get used to the feeling, before putting it halfway through his mouth. 

He tries to shove as much of it as possible inside of his mouth, but then looks up at you for help when he doesn't seem able to. 

“Help?” You ask. If he could pout around the dick, he would. You grab the back of his hair again, and steadily help him down the length of it. 

Instinctively, he stutters and chokes as the sex toy slides down the wet cavern of his mouth. He instantly grabs your thighs for support, trying to alleviate the intruding feeling. You remove your hands from his hair and stroke at his cheek, trying to coax him back his measured breathing through his nose. 

There’s no point in pulling him off. If he says he wants to take it all, he’s going to take it all. And no amount of praise will get his mind off his goal. 

He looks back up at you, ‘Help me.’ he seems to say.

You sigh. For all his imprudence, you cannot wait to make him cry on your dick. 

However, you are beginning to  feel impatient at the way he only steadily inches more of it down his throat. The slow pace is starting to frustrate you.

The hedonistic side of you wants him around your cock, now. Irrationally, you grab the hair on the back of his head harshly, he gasps around the cock at the contact. You brutally push him all the way down to the base of the cock. 

He chokes around it immediately, and his grip on your thighs turns bruising as his throat tries to accommodate to the sudden intrusion. He fails, and a pool of drool spills from his mouth, but your hands don't let up, keeping him there. 

“Come on. You can do it,” You goad, tilting your head to the side, “Can’t you?” 

You see alarm bells ring in Mark’s head, and he tries his best to accept the length of it in his greedy mouth. “Can.” He slurs. 

His nose kisses the skin of your stomach, and he blushes, making it even more difficult for him to breathe. But he’s keeping himself there, unmoving. Though you do see him chewing around the plastic to alleviate the burn of his throat. 

After a few more seconds, Mark moves a few inches down the cock, landing halfway. He swallows, or– tries to swallow. His throat fucking burns. 

He continues to suck and chew around the cock, getting lost in the warm feeling of his mouth filled. 

You tap his cheek a few times. He opens his eyes to look at you through his lashes. He hadn’t even noticed he’d closed them. 

You're beginning to feel a little more impatient.

“Mark…” You move your feet airily, then slightly drag it across his dick, barely touching. He instantly grips your thighs again and chokes around the dildo. His neglected dick twitches at the simple contact, and he closes his eyes as he tries to even his breath again. 

“You want to be filled up?” He moans around the cock at your filthy words, “Wanna be mine?” 

Slowly, he moves his lips across the dick and out, leaving it with a lewd pop! Fucking hot. 

He heaves when he’s finally met with air. His face is sweaty and debauched, eyes glazed over like he had just gotten fucked. He’s a complete slut. “I’m already yours, I don't have to work for it.” He says throatily, vocal cords basically compressed off. 

You hum, just trying to keep him quiet. He can get pretty mouthy, and you can’t bother to hear bitching when you’re so horny right now. 

He’s feeling extra touch starved after barely being offered any stimulation before it’s taken away, so he stands up quickly. You lay down on the sheets, and before you can even bother to start to get comfortable, he’s already clambering onto your lap. 

You raise an eyebrow, like you’re not just as turned on, “Someone’s eager.” 

He lines his hole with the bright pink plastic cock, dripping of his drool and spit, pressing his hands to your stomach for support. 

The tip breaches his hole, slicked up and ready for his awaiting hole. You’re so fucking jealous. You can’t imagine how warm and silky he feels…

He moans, tipping his head back, but doesn’t dare stop at just there, continuing to slowly descend down the pretty dick, his hole fluttering around it. 

When he reaches the hilt of it with ease, he shifts, trying to relax himself onto it slowly.

But you know better. You know that he wants to be treated like the cumtoy that he is. 

You tap his hips, then squish the flesh. He moans in response. “Come on, baby. Move.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Im calling this work: "Do you think you peg me in every universe?"

"Duh."

Thanks for the request, meow meow meow

♡