#to be clear To Be Positively Translucent!

[fckmebarnes]

your idol

camboy!bucky x camgirl!reader

18+ smut — men and minors dni. somno. (pre established) toy use (dildo/vibrator) squirting. multiple orgasms. breeding kink if you squint a little. daddy nickname. fingering (r). bucky is insatiable. he needs u fr.

wc 2.1k

a/n — this came from a place of horny (somno is one of my top kinks), along with this request. i felt this one in my pussy when writing it. this is just the start of camboy!bucky & camgirl!reader <3

“you guys would not believe how wet she is right now…” bucky’s voice is soft; quiet. with his eyes glued to your pussy, he pulls the translucent purple dildo out of your hole slowly — watching at is sheens in the slick coming from you.

“bet it doesn’t pick up well on camera…” he mutters, still watching your cunt as he pushes it back inside you.

you were knocked out — taking a nap after going several rounds with bucky was what you and your body needed

and you gave him permission to keep playing afterwards.

of course he took it.

your leg was hiked up as you rested on your side, an arm propped under your pillow and a blue night dress adorned your body.

the fabric was riding up on your hip, your cunt exposed with how you hiked your leg up further than the other. you always claimed it was a comfortable sleeping position but he knew you better than that.

it was an easy access position — one you only did when you wanted him to take advantage of you.

and here he was. fulfilling your wish.

“fuck, baby…” his own cock twitches in his lap as he watches your cunt swallow the dildo all over again — imagining it was his own cock sinking into your wet cunt.

not yet. he has to be patient. give the viewers what they want.

even if his cock is painfully hard right now and leaking all over the sheets.

he spreads your ass with his other hand, sinking the dildo to a hilt into your cunt as he reached over and grabs a small bullet vibrator.

“gonna make this pretty pussy sing around this fake dick…” he mutters, eyeing the chat of the live stream and hearing the sound of pings incoming — signaling that he’s getting extra tipped.

he hadn’t done anything like this with you before, but it was pre-established you both wanted to make this sort of content — whether it be for your own two eyes or for your shared account — it didn’t matter.

you both just wanted to play with each other.

he goes to grip his own cock in his hands, moving ahis fist at the same pace the dildo was fucking your pussy. it made his head spin at how easy you were for him — how easy you were to open up and let him take you like this whenever he wanted.

and you both were getting paid for it?

fuck. it made his cock twitch harder in his hand.

he never thought that he would ever do cam work let alone be with someone who did cam work and collaborate. but somehow he got lucky with you.

meeting you on the first few nights of his own career launching, needing some subscribers and some exposure but being the humble man he was — he didn’t reach out or initiate first.

until he saw you one time on live.

you were fucking your pretty pussy with a clear, glass dildo — tits bouncing with each thrust as you fucked yourself with it on the floor.

you had your fingers strumming your clit and the other twisted a nipple and he swore he never saw someone more beautiful than you when he saw you squirt on camera.

“you sound so fucking good, baby…” he mutters all to himself as he stops jerking his cock, taking the vibrator and turning it on before slotting it between your swollen cunt and the blanket that was snug between your legs

involuntarily, your hips jerk — a warm sensation spreading through your body as you move your hips against the sheets. he watches your body hungrily, biting his lip as he starts moving his hand on his own cock again.

your brows furrow as you keep your speed up, dreams blending together, not knowing what you were truly dreaming about or not.

all you knew was you had an ache — one so deep only bucky would’ve been able to fix it.

and he knew that.

sly little shit.

“makin’ a mess of the sheets, doll.” he coos softly as he turns to the camera and pulls it closer, letting everyone see your cunt glistening in the low ring light setting.

he looks back over at your cunt as he swipes a metal finger through your folds — your hips backing up into him instinctively.

“so responsive…so sensitive…” he trails off as he hears your quite whimpers filter through your lips, fingers clutching the sheets gently.

he pushes the tip of his fingers slowly into your hole, easily letting him in as you settle your hips back down — nuzzling into the silk pillowcase. his eyes travel up the length of your body, settling on your face.

that was something that was kept private by the rest of the internet except him.

you didn’t mind it, either.

in fact you kinda loved it. made it feel like he has a more possessive claim over you — being the only one able to bask in your pleasure.

that’s what he loved most about doing this with you.

he draws his finger back, lips parting softly at the sight of his digit covered in your slick. he has to bring it up to his lips, moaning softly at the taste of you on his tongue.

“such a sweet sleepy pussy…” he sinks his finger back into your cunt before he’s grabbing the camera off the tripod and holding it in his free hand.

“look how well she takes me — even in her sleep.” he groans as he sinks a second one in, your hips pushing back against his touch as you whine into the pillow. he chuckles to himself, knowing you can’t help it. your body is just that needy for him.

“shh..” he coos, picking up the pace with his fingers fucking your cunt. his cock bobs in between your thighs, nudging your clit every so often with the way his arm moves to fuck you. he groans every time he feels your swollen clit bump his sensitive tip — leaking and spreading a mess all over you.

“think i can make her cum like this?” he whispers mostly to the livestream — watching your face furrow in frustration as your hips start bucking gently against his fingers, his thumb coming to rub your clit as you let out the softest moan in your sleep.

“fuck.” his moan is deep; guttural. the only kind you can possess form him like that.

and you weren’t even awake this time.

after a few more lazy strokes to your clit and curling his two thick fingers inside of you, he had you cumming around his digits in seconds — your hips stuttering against his hold as he feels his cock ache painfully.

he needs to be inside you — feel your warmth around his aching cock.

“good girl.” even if you’re knocked out, he still needs to praise you. and your body responds to it the second you clench around his fingers as they stay buried in you for a second.

you’re dripping down his wrist and arm at this point — a mess had already been on the sheets from you rutting into them before all of this and started.

you couldn’t help it, you were a needy little thing in your sleep.

he keeps the camera positioned for a second before he pulls his fingers out of your pussy, watching the way it clenches around air from the loss of being filled

you whimpered in your sleep. that made his cock twitch — slapping against your wet folds.

he puts the camera back onto the tripod, getting the best angle of his thighs, your ass presented to the camera and the short length of your back before it disappears.

your wet cunt is on display for everyone at home to see, whoever is lazily jerking off to it.

at least bucky got to feel it for real.

he takes his metal fist and wraps it around his cock giving it a few jerks before he’s pressing the tip into your wet hole.

a debauched moan leave his lips before he’s even sinking into you. he feels almost embarrassed but to be quite honest after feeling you cum and jerk around his fingers mere seconds ago — he couldn’t have given a fuck.

“shit baby… you’re so tight…” he ends up leaning over the length of you for a second as he pushes all the way in — your cunt stretching nicely around the thickness of his cock.

he peppers kisses on the exposed skin on your shoulder, his scruff of his beard scratching against you making you stir slightly.

well, it was mostly the scratching of his beard.

you let out the softest, most pathetic sleepy moan bucky had ever heard in his life, following along with his name.

“buck…?”

the sound along has him almost busting a fucking nut.

he draws his hips back before he’s slamming them back into you, making you moan again, louder.

“shh..sweetheart,” he mumbles against your shoulder as his lips travel up your shoulder to your neck, right under your earlobe. “daddy’s just gotta take care of this sleepy pussy, alright?”

you’re so fucking sleepy and out of it that you don’t even process yourself nodding your head, nor the way your hips lift up and your ass pressed firmly against his own hips — driving the tip of his cock to your sweet spot.

“mm..” is all that leaves your throat as your eyes flutter open for a split second to look down at see bucky’s metal arm holding his body weight up and over you — his hips thrusting into you at a pace that rocked you back to sleep.

“atta girl, go back to sleep. daddy’ll take care of the rest…” he murmurs against your skin as you whimper in your sleep. he lets out a satisfied grunt as he pulls his hips back and reaches for the vibrator, pushing it into your hole while his cock sinks back into you.

the vibrations has him shivering.

“oh fuck…” his whimpers are muffled by your skin as he starts fucking you deep and slow, feeling the toy inside you and snug up against his shaft makes his head dizzy.

“fuck baby…oh god…” he’s now being reduced to a whimper, whining mess as he feels you drip all over him and his balls, down onto the sheets.

he feels your cunt clench the toy and him, hips rutting back against him as he makes sure you feel every single inch of his thick cock inside you. wanting to make sure even in your sleep — you can feel how deep he is.

so he takes he metal hand and leans onto his elbow before pressing his hand against your lower tummy, chest pressed against your back at this point

he’s rocking into you helplessly

he hears you whimper into your pillow as you press against him further, his own moans falling from his lips as he feels himself getting pushed to the edge.

he reaches further below your tummy with his metal fingers to press against your clit — the added stimulation making your cunt squeeze him hard enough to trigger his orgasm. the sound of the tip jar notification going off gets drowned out by blood rushing to his ears.

“oh…fuck—! take it, doll. every last drop…mm..” whimpering against your skin he rubs your clit making sure to get you there again, addicted to the feel of your cunt squeezing his cock.

he feels your body come after him, hops convulsions against him, still in your sleepy state.

your fists bunched tightly at the sheets as you moan into them, eyes screwed shut as you squirt all over his cock and the sheets.

he groans as notices you made an entire mess of him and yourself, kissing your skin gently.

“good fuckin’ girl…takin’ all of my cum…even in your sleep your pussy can’t get enough.” he’s reached to pull the toy out first and shutting it off before pulling out himself, taking the camera to show the after math

he angles the camera to show his hot cum leaking out of your wrecked cunt, dripping onto the soaked sheets below. his thumb finds your hole and pushes some more of his cum back in — his screen lighting up with tip after tip after tip.

he grins, feeling your cunt clench around his finger.

“gotta fill this pussy up one more time. she’s begging for it. see ya sluts later.” he says before he’s turning off the camera and live, tossing the phone and pulling you into his chest before sinking right back into you.

[nightingale-prompts]

Space Fae- DCxDP prompt

So ending up in another dimension wasn't necessarily part of the plan. The plan was to stop the portal from being opened and letting countless demons flooding the mortal realm.

Constantine had said portals were finicky and interrupting the summoning can throw off the destination that the portals go to. But not the hell sounded pretty good.

So Tim might have "accidentally" ended up on the other side of said portal after attempting to see what was in it. He didn't actually think he'd fall in.

On the other side, he ended up in what he thought was a lounge. It looked like one or maybe it was a living room.

Regardless 4 tall luminescent figures looked at him from their reclined positions.

Their bare starry skin was bearly covered by translucent shawls. Their bodies were dappled with constellations against their colarshifting skin, it was like looking at space itself but cut out and melded to humanoid forms. It was clear they felt no need to cover themselves when they were so radiant as is.

The figure in the center of the room who was reclined on a fainting couch laid her eyes on him. Her eyes were a glittering blue surrounded by amber lashes. Her long hair was a metallic copper that moved like molten metal. She was the tallest as she stood up reaching 10 feet. You'd think she was a goddess at first glance. Her shroud covered her head to toes stopping short of the floor. She donned copper rings and necklaces around her with form.

The other 3 figures gazed at Tim with curiosity.

The tallest male had red patterns of stars on his skin like a dying cosmos against his dark skin. The main difference between him and the tallest female was her skin glittered with hues of purple stars against the black space. But he was mostly void. His eyes glowed like blazing red dwarfs determined to not go without a fiery blaze of glory. His ashen-tinted shroud was wrapped around his hips with a silver pin. His hair was a metallic silver. The only part of him that caught the light. He crossed his arms as he stared down at Tim at 9 feet tall.

The smallest girl stood only 7 feet tall. Her white hair flowed upwards in a ponytail that moved like a cloudy mist. Her skin was a bright cluster of colors like fireworks. Her skin was so bright the black spaces of her skin didn't exist yet because the space she embodied was so young and new. She mainly shined shades of blue and white of new stars Her green eyes were so bright they glowed a mint green. Here shroud was tied around her like a dress with a golden chain. She bounded towards Tim only to be stopped by the last of the figures who leaned down to meet Tim's gaze.

The last one was male...kind of. Male and female of these beings were judged only by their outlines so far and their way of wearing their translucent coverings. But this last one was neither but completely breathtaking. Their Lazarus green eyes framed by silver eyelashes like fresh powdery snow. Their long white locks reflected like the morning sun shining off untouched snow making holographic like rainbows ripple down the hair. His skin was a swirling mass of cloudy green stars. The center of their body made up the center of a rotating galaxy around a star. His shroud was tied in a toga that fell off one shoulder. He accessorized with jade bracelets and earrings that glowed eerily on his arms, legs, and neck.

The 8-foot-tall being placed a finger under Tim's chin and smiled kindly. He said something to the others and a language he didn't know. It sounded like humming.

There was something in that sound like it promised everything Tim had ever wanted could be found here. Limitless knowledge, love, and someone who understood him in every way.

Then Tim was thrusted back into his dimension with faint memories of his time there. Learning, flying, a warm embrace, and the faint taste of nectar on his lips. The memories faded to vague dreams when he crossed the threshold and only minutes had passed since he left.

[chrattho1]

matt sturniolo blurb

relief

warnings: pillow humping, not proofread.

the tour bus has always been an action packed setting. chris blaring music at any given point, arguments taking place every few moments, too much work talk for matt’s liking and most of all— there is no privacy. at all.

how much ever matt loved being on the road, meeting fans and entertaining them he would also like just a moment alone.

a moment to think what he wants to, able to stress in peace, or relieve the stress in some way or the other.

matt is currently laid on his bunk, the red curtain pulled completely in attempts to mask the sound of the loud music being played in the small lounge area in celebration of yet another successful show.

even though nick was insisting matt on staying up for a little, matt convinced him that he had a throbbing head ache and said his good nights earlier than usual.

matt sighs into his pillow thinking over the events that took place today, all the work that he has to get done before tomorrow’s show and the rest of the tour. but one thought in particular that’s bothering him is what the fuck is he is going to do about the raging boner tenting his sweats right now.

it feels wrong to help himself out when everyone including his brothers are right outside. awake.

matt screws his eyes shut in order to fall sleep, pulling the blanket all the way up to his bare shoulders and letting out a breath.

he shuffles and stirs all through an hour before he finally settles in a position that was comfortable enough—partially on his back, face to the side, hands on either side of his face, blanket loosely laying below his thighs and a small pillow between his legs.

he keeps his eyes shut focusing on the goal of falling asleep, when a small bump in the road shakes him up.

the pillow between his legs shifts with his body, matt was startled—not by the bump but by the way his cock twitched at the small friction of the pillow shifting between his legs, at how his body tensed immediately.

matt can’t help but buck his hips into the pillow just a little, pressing his clothed cock on it.

he lets out a shaky breath keeping his eyes shut but his eyebrows pinned together, slowly allowing himself to grind against the feather filled appliance that he should definitely not be humping.

but he can’t help it, he needs the pressure that has been building up to release.

soon matt’s thoughts fog up, not caring if the people present in the vehicle with him catch him and he starts humping the pillow recklessly.

the loud music that is still being played outside engulfing the faint sounds of matt’s hips plowing into the pillow.

his fingers holding onto the thin sheet covering the mattress, gripping onto it as the intensity of his humping and grinding increases.

a small whimper slips through his lips before letting his mouth hang open, emitting a soft pant with each one of his movements.

his body shaking violently and breathing growing heavier, his cock twitching under his sweats feeling his release come closer.

matt’s stomach muscles tense, his back arched, hips bucked in with the last powerful thrust, lips caught between his teeth, face flushed-sweaty and scrunched up in pleasure when he cums undone in his pants. painting them and the pillow cover with his sticky, translucent release.

matt’s eyes flutter open and immediately drop down to the mess he’d made.

realisation settling in as he quickly gets rid of the pillow cover, still trying to even out his breathing.

once he’s cleared the evidence of his shameful and pathetic act, he flops back down with a loud sigh.

finally feeling relaxed enough to sleep.

taglist: @espressqe @ginswife @sturnsburna @carolina454 @hope2244 @hotgirlbl0gger @violetstxrniolo777 @riggysworld @verycoolmiyah @fadedstvrn @purpledreamertyphoon @mattsplaything @whore4chris @chris-halleluja @annsx03 @mattsdemi @chrislittleslut @poolover123 @luvvnai @chrissturniolossidehoe @pompomprrin @harmonysturniolo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @soph-loren @ccsturns @lovesturni0l0s @chriss-slutt @wysmols @sturniolosluttt @mattsdillion @alyssa-sturn @bilssturns @sturnobessed @mxnsonn @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosymphony @chrissturnioloswife88 @sxphiee3 @purpledreamertyphoon @whoreforchrissturnniolo @slutformatt17 @realuvrrr @sweetxcheeryx @sturnl0ve @estellesdoll @glitterybtch @courta13 @mattsbitchh @slvtf0rchr1s @trevorsgodmother

[blacksapphirecookies]

ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪꜰᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴄᴇɪᴛ

ᴀɴᴏɴ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ : ʜɪɪ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ! ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ (ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴀʙʟʏ) ᴅᴏ ʜᴄꜱ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ꜱᴍᴄ ɢꜰ ᴏʀ ᴡɪꜰᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ ᴀᴘᴘʟᴇ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ + ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ꜱᴀᴘᴘʜɪʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ꜱᴇᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ? ɪᴛ ᴄᴀɴ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʙᴇ ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪᴅᴍ!

^᪲ ⁞ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ : ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ᴍɪʟᴋ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ / ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ : ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

ᴏᴠᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ : ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ ( ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴀɢ ᴡɪꜱᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ )

ᴀ / ɴ : ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ɪ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ, ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡᴀɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ. ʙᴇꜱɪᴅᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ꜰᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋꜱ, ᴀɴᴏɴ ! ^^ OH my god i wrote like a whole story instead of writing the headcanons. JUST SKIP TO THE NEXT DIVIDER TO SEE THE ACTUAL HEADCANONS CAUSE IM NOT REMOVING WHAT I WROTE

this is longer than what I wanted it to be and that's my fault 😭

I could really see Shadow Milk either having a significant other, in this case- being a spouse, they would match his energy completely or they'll act the complete opposite of him. It's not like it would matter though, he'll still be headover heels for you regardless on how you act because you're his!

The best way that I could imagine the Beast of Deceit having a spouse is from an arranged marriage that the witches did at the start of your creation.

He quite literally picked you from the start, having you at his side even before he wasn't corrupted and placed into that godforsaken tree.

Having the two of you together before your husband's eventual capture makes a bit more sense due to how he doesn't exactly have the best way with friendships / relationships with other cookies without them being for his own benefit.

You weren't some tool to be used or pawn to shift into position whenever he wanted when he came back to ' achieve ' you. You were his balance, his obsession, his tether.

While Shadow Milk Cookie was trapped inside of the Silver Tree with the other Beast Cookies as punishment, you were with him. Not in the literal sense though, just hidden within the Farie Kingdom and under a new identity ( cool right !? )

The witches, due to the fear of having to deal with another huge panic around the world they created, chose to ' kill ' you off, deeming that you were also involved in the massive destruction that was caused that faithful day.

Their main goal was to keep the two of you away from eachother completely, aware of what might happen if your husband were to somehow get back in contact with you. Though, it seemed like their plan failed considering that as the Silver Tree grew weaker, so were the bounds of his power.

With the arrival of White Lily Cookie, and later Pure Vanilla Cookie and his friends, it ended up becoming clear to you that the seal's power was beginning to fade slowly, allowing your husband to communicate with you. At first, this was though slight visions of blue eyes appearing in your visions whenever you stared out in the distance for too long.

The visions only seemed to get worse overtime, now being more solid than translucent like before.

You can still remember the absolute shock that your being felt when you were jumpscared by your husband's.. spirt? You couldn't tell at first due to how it would fade when you stared at him for too long.

You turned sharply, breathcatching as a figure emerged from the haze, vague and shimmering like a memory half-remembered. The faint glow of blue eyes pierced the gloom, steady and unblinking. " You're here, " you whispered, voice barely more than a breath. The figure stepped closer, the outline of Shadow Milk Cookie materializing through the lingering shadows. His form was still intangible, shifting at the edges like smoke caught in a draft, but his blue-toned eyes light filled the room with a quiet intensity that made your heartache. He didn't speak at first. Instead, he reached out, a ghostly blue hand hovering just inches from yours, trembling with the weight of centuries. The space between you was charged, taut like a wire stretched to breaking, but no matter the distance, you could feel the tether connecting you-fragile but unyielding. " You. . stayed. "

Oh, the joy Shadow Milk Cookie felt when he first interacted with you after his centuries of confinement-! You could feel it ripple across your very soul, like a tidal wave crashing through everything you'd built to survive his absence.

He didn't speak at first, most likely due to him not being completely sure about the new chance in his physical form.

No clever words. No honeyed lies. No deception.

When he did start speaking to you, however, the conversations between yall would last forever- with the two of you making up for lost time.

From this point on, it felt like the world around you two was disappearing. All of the worries of the world seemingly fade away into obscurity.

When your husband eventually escaped from the Silver Tree, with a new body and everything, he was quick to come to you.

I think he'll be the type to gossip about how HORRIBLE of an experience it was to be trapped in that wretched tree for eons on end to you. As well as have you extremely close to him while doing so.

Expect a lot of physical touch from this man.

Years without form, sensation, or closeness have made him a creature of touch. He'll constantly have a hand on you in some way-fingers brushing your arm, an arm around your waist, sitting so close he's basically in your lap.

Hell, he would even wrap you around in his strings and you wouldn't even mind.

He's extremely playful with you, this being shown by the constant amount of times he'll pull pranks on you. Shadow Milk is also heavy on making you stuff, usually being puppets or plushies of things you like.

If Shadow Milk was in a relationship, his love language would definitely be gift-giving.

He would first start by gifting you things small before spending hours making you something intricate when he finds you taking more interest in what he has in store for you.

Drawing random designs for costumes and writing scenes in his plays would also be a huge thing in this relationship of yours.

Since you are his wife, Shadow Milk doesn't mind spending a couple of hours within the Spire of Shadows, making a plushie of a cakehound that looks nearly identical for the real thing.

Speaking of the Spire of Shadows, the two of you would spend days on end just reading and analyzing books that you guys could never finish reading before his capture.

As much as he hates to admit it, this has to be the only part of him that seemed to stay with him after being deemed as a ' Beast Cookie '.

Don't get me wrong, he still kept his silliness and playfulness to a minimum when he was Blueberry Milk Cookie, but that has been bumped up to a ten.

Since he was trapped up in that tree for so long, he just can't stand to not have him with you for an extensive period of time.

Poor guy is just extremely touch-starved and that's something you don't mind fixing.

The amount of cuddling that you two endure in a single day with eachother is unprecedented.

Sometimes, Black Sapphire and Candy Apple Cookie will walk into Shadow Milk and you cuddle and just stare at them until they leave ( I'll get into their section in a second ).

If you aren't into cuddling that much, the two of you will just remain to holding hands and hugging often.

With Black Sapphire and Candy Apple Cookie, it’s safe to say that they were a bit confused when they first met you in person. It almost felt like Shadow Milk kept you a secret from them until they met you.

I like to imagine that Shadow Milk made Black Sapphire and Candy Apple his servants while he was still in the Silver Tree, doing so by corrousing them into coming near the tree and communicating to them at a distance.

So, when Shadow Milk goes and finds you within the Farie Kingdom while they were still technically living there, they were confused.

Especially Candy Apple Cookie.

She was absolutely livid when she first found out about your existance.

Her master randomly having some. . other cookie show up and take all of his wonderful and graceful attention away from her was a big no-no.

She made it her number one goal to avoid you at all cost and just envy you from the sidelines, gossiping about you with Black Sapphire whenever they were alone. Though, they did get caught once doing this by Shadow Milk Cookie, which led to some. . unconfidental punishments and rules being put in place.

Black Sapphire, on the other hand, was more accepting when the two of you first met. Yeah, he didn’t know you and what threat you could’ve potentially held for his boss, but he wasn’t sure if there was to begin with.

He had never seen Shadow Milk Cookie act this way towards anyone before and it almost felt unnatural for him.

Unlike how Candy Apple would avoid you, he would still communicate with you, being rather pleased to have a different personality around him besides ones that were just mainly consisting of chaos.

But, he’ll still keep the talking to a minimum, only communicating with you when he found appropriate.

Overtime, as the years went on with you four being located in the same spire, they eventually come to like you.

Candy Apple Cookie, as much as she hated it at first, actually began to bond with you on some stuff. I mean, you two both loved Shadow Milk Cookie, so that was a start, right?

Things between you and the apple-themed cookie only seemed to grow after she attempted to trick a group of cookies into going into the spire ( i wonder who ).

You were there for her when she had gotten herself beaten up, and you tended to her wounds without a care about how Candy Apple felt about you. This, and Shadow Milk's constant attempts to try and get her to act right around you, helped your ' friendship ' with her become less strained.

It would be a little weird for Candy Apple to still have a heavy crush on Shadow Milk while he has a wife, especially with her seeing his wife as a mother figure. So, I think that her being head over heels for him would eventually fade away or disappear completely, in respect for you two.

With you being her mother figure, this meant that Candy Apple Cookie no longer hides from you.

She's more talkative and playful around you, contrasting how she would act to you in the past.

It was odd to you at first, but you two would only talk about Shadow Milk Cookie when you two started talking.

Candy Apple would practically harass you into giving you more information about her boss, like you didn't know who he was like she did.

This kind of behavior from her did eventually fade away when she found out how serious the relationship you had with was.

Could see her pulling a bunch of pranks on other fairies back at the Faerie Kingdom together, laughing your butts off as they ran away confused and scared by the threat of ' getting crushed ' by the girl's apple hammer.

You try not to indulge in her chaotic antics, but you just can't help yourself !

Seeing the pure happiness on her face whenever she's able to scare someone out of their dough makes you happy.

The attention that she once gave to her master has shifted onto you, nearly always being at your side no matter where you went.

She was always Apple Faerie Cookie whenever she was with you, and that was something that you cherished about the girl.

Black Sapphire, as he grew to know you, doesn't exactly see you as a mother figure at first. It felt more like a transactional relationship at most.

The best way I could see you two getting close is by your personalities colliding in a certain way, though a portion of it did have to deal with how you were able to keep Candy Apple in check alongside him.

He sees you as the peacemaker around the spire and he's very appreciative to have you fill that spot.

The jewel-themed cookie is very fond of the way you and he will gossip about other cookies for days on end, with a cup of tea in front of you both.

He can't help but thank you for the constant slander that you give him about other cookies. It felt a tinch bit boring on his radio show lately, but you never fail to give him the motivation that he needs.

I don't know why but I could also see Black Sapphire's love language being quality time with anyone who comes off as a mother figure to him.

You two, with Candy Apple, will be in disguises and just shop together when your husband is busy, finding cool trinkets and clothes that you would bring back to the spire.

Back with your husband, he isn't exactly happy when he sees his servants becoming more attached to you. It was taking up time that you could've been spending with him !

However, as much as he wants to try and convince you that they were just there to serve him and you alone, he ultimately ends up failing due to how much you've grown to like the two servants he had.

Jealousy was a BIG thing for him.

So, with communication, you're able to split your time from Candy Apple and Black Sapphire with your husband once again.

I wouldn't exactly call you guys ' family ', since Shadow Milk doesn't exactly treat the two like his spawn for it to make sense. But, the title ' servant ' has turned more loose.

It's almost like with you around, the relationship Shadow Milk had with his servants had become more peaceful instead of just being purely about control. Yeah, they'll still answer to his bidding and be his partners in crime, but it no longer felt like that was always case.

If you considered his two lackeys ' family ' of any sorts, he'll bound to make changes with the way he acts towards them in order to make you happy.

Though, he does keep the way he used to act toward them still apparent whenever you're out of the picture.

Besides that, the four of you are a pretty decent ' family '.

[emacrow]

Jolly stringbean.

Babs was sitting at her desk in the library, glaring holes into the obviously hiding in disguised Tim.

Her friendly smile could hide the twitching lip as she checked out books for the few people in line. Ignoring the constant buzzing coming from the BatChat.

Bruce and the Robins had let this lie down after 3 weeks, which was a clear point that she knew they feared her, but it seemed Tim didn't get the memo.

Reminder note to replace his yearly concentrated espresso coffee supplies with decaf, and uploads his embarrassing toddler videos in him in a ducky outfit singing the duck song on the media.

Thankfully, Danny kept her wedding ring translucent, considering she was pretty sure Isabelle would try to chew on it again after she left it on her nightstand last time.

A different chime buzz on her phone as she flick her gaze at it, the message comes from Jolly StringBean💚 with a gif pfp of a tall elderitch sleeping, very inhumane impossible position on the kid's wardrobe after Isabella got sick that one time, only for his long ears to ping upwards startle with his glowing green eyes flashing the screen, white hair expanding to reveal camouflage fake hundreds of glowing green eyes like a peacock, tripping and falling off where he was standing as she had accidentally startled him awake in that moment.

She glances back at tim, who at the time was being distracted by a book before looking into the chat real quick.

Jolly StringBean💚: Dante and Isabella figured out the juice was on the top shelf of the fridge and tried to get it out, only to fail again.

Danny sent a few pics of 3 year old Dante and Isabella trying to sneak into the fridge. Isabella determined face while Dante looked around, obviously searching for danny, scratching his split white and black curly hair a bit.

The second one is Isabella standing on Dante crouching as she tries to pull the tropical punch out of the fridge after they open it.

The third Pic was Isabella falling backward due to the weight of the juice container being very heavy, her face completely surprised and gobsmacked.

Fourth pic was Dante sobbing on the floor, his tiny hands rubbing his eyes with tropical punch spilled all over the floor and Isabella sucking onto her hand, both of them soaked in fruit juice with the broken fruit punch container between them on the floor, in front of the fridge.

Along with the last Pic of Isabella taking a bath, Dante's puffy red eyes as he nibble on a blob ghost marshmallow already in a fluffy bunny towel, Isabella smacking the tiny green glowing ship on duplicated danny's obviously screaming as she didn't want to leave the bubble bath.

Babs's eyes soften in amusement before immediately blanking her phone to off upon seeing Tim at the front of her desk.

"Are you checking out these books, Tim?" Babs said with a polite smile planted on her face as she scanned the books.

"Who was that guy's voice on your com? Are you dating again? What if he is a-

"Tim, I have your ducky video on speed dial to be sent to the media. Do you really want to test me in public?" Babs comeback with a bright smiling that sent shiver down Tim's spine.

"...."

"My thoughts exactly, now your book is due next Saturday, don't be late again." Babs said, putting in the due date in the book's folder. Tim's eyes narrowed as she knew this wasn't over by far.

Babs watched and waited until Tim left the building completely before wheeling over to where he was spying on her, checking every shelf and book using her extender stick to find 5 mini batspy bots cameras planted.

This noisy litt-.. Babs took a deep breath as Frostbite told her not to get too angry in her state as she disabled the batspy bots.

She can't wait to get home and be a potato on the couch watching Danny cook. It is spaghetti and fudge brownie night.

Part 1 here <-

[stevesgother]

Dress - S.H

Paring - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 1.5k

Summary - 2 times Steve Harrington has lost his mind seeing you in a dress that fits you like skin, and the one time he does something about it.

Contains - best friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is pathetically in love, loosely based off of ‘Dress’ by Taylor Swift. Or maybe heavily based lol

Warnings - steve & reader ARE 18 in this, they just haven’t graduated yet, drinking, vomit. As always, let me know if I missed anything

AN - THIS IS PART 1 OF A WIP. second fic…ever! also my first mini series! i was gonna make it all one fic but i figured it would be easier to digest this way. enjoy :)

Senior Prom - May 1985

Michael Cooper. That’s who was waiting for you downstairs in your foyer, sweet talking your parents while he waited to escort you to your final high school dance. He wasn’t your first choice for your senior prom, hardly even your second; but he was respectable enough for you to be seen on his arm for one night.

Taking one last look at yourself in your vanity mirror, you smoothed your hands down the front of your dress. It was a beautiful baby pink ball gown with lace trim and puffy sleeves. Before you can think better of it, before you can feel guilty for it, you imagine Steve’s reaction when he sees you tonight.

Steve Harrington. Your best friend since diapers. Your mothers grew up together, so naturally when they found out they were pregnant at nearly the exact same time, it only made sense that they would orchestrate your friendship immediately.

As it turns out, not much orchestrating would be required. The second your little baby brains could comprehend what it meant to love another person, the rest was history. Wherever you went, Steve went too. You’re not sure when your feelings for him started to change. The usual calm that washed over you whenever you were in his presence one day seemed to transform into something different. You felt nervous, like someone had released a net of butterflies into your stomach.

You clear your head with a harsh shake and grab your clutch off the bed, making your way downstairs. Michael is waiting for you with a green corsage in a shiny translucent box. ‘That's Sweet,’ you think, “if only it matched my dress.’ 

–

Upon arriving at the gym, the first thing you do, consciously or not, is scan the room for your best friend. You spot him quickly, his perfectly manicured hair and well-pressed suit making him hard to miss. Even harder to miss is the gorgeous, curly haired brunette resting her head on his shoulder.

Nancy Wheeler.

They’ve been together for over a year at this point, even joining your close knit circle of friends. Despite this, you can’t help the nagging sense of jealousy stabbing at your chest, making your face heat up. You tell yourself it’s the humidity inside the gymnasium, and not the fact that you’d give anything to be in her position. You quickly abandon your date and try not to feel guilty for it, making your way over to the happy couple.

“Steve!” You call as you come further into their line of sight.

“Hey you!” Steve stands and gives you a tight hug. “Hey!’ you greet, returning the embrace. He can’t help the way his eyes quickly travel down the expanse of you, noticing the shape this dress gives your body. He prays to any listening God that his girlfriend didn’t notice, that you didn’t notice. “Hey Nance.” You address her with a polite smile. She gives you a hug without warning. Another thing that irks you about Nancy Wheeler: that girl is impossible to hate. You have every reason to despise her, and yet you can’t. She’s kind, funny, strong-willed and beautiful. She’s so ‘girl next door’, she’s so…not you. Occasionally you’ve wondered if it’s a front, that she can’t possibly be that perfect.

“Where’s Michael?” She asks inquisitively; like she genuinely cares where your douchebag date has run off to. A quick scan of the room reveals he’s already talking up another girl by the photobooth. There’s not one part of you that gives a shit. “We were just thinking about grabbing some food, wanna come with?” Steve nods his head toward the various appetizers they have set up on tables decorated with gaudy tinsel and tablecloths. “Yeah, why not?”, you smile and it doesn’t reach your eyes.

–

An hour and 2 cups of spiked punch later, ‘Heaven’ by Bryan Adams starts to play and you feel like you might hurl. Nancy’s face quickly lights up and she gives her date a knowing look, “Steve! Let's dance! Please??”. She’s immediately pulling him away from the table where you’ve been watching them flirt all night. Her delicate hand resting on his bicep, his large one finding a home on her thigh. He sends you a sympathetic look as he rises; sorry that he has to leave you there, sorry that you won’t be slow dancing with anyone tonight. He has no idea.

Your date is long gone. The two of you going together was a ticket inside and nothing more.

The air in the gym is suffocating and frankly smells of sweaty basketball shorts, so you decide to make your way outside for some fresh air. The romantic serenade of Bryan Adams’ voice is nothing more than a quiet lullaby as you lean against the brick wall of your high school.

You hear him before you see him. “Hey stranger,” the open door momentarily lets the humidity escape and you feel it wash over your skin. “you alright?” he asks with a half smile.

“Yeah just,” you say looking around, “getting some air is all,” returning the expression. He imitates you and decides to lean on the wall, a little too close for comfort. You’re all but slapped across the face with his scent. Cinnamon, a no doubt expensive musky cologne, and sweat. You can feel him looking at you, so you decide to meet his gaze; praying that he can’t see the crimson shade of red creeping up your neck and cheeks simply from standing next to him. You feel so pathetic at times like these. 

“Nance found a couple of her girlfriends, figured it’d be a good time for a smoke.” He pulls a cigarette out of his suit jacket pocket, and lights it. His hand cupped to cover the breeze.

“Those’ll kill ya, you know?” you smirk, knowing. You’ve always teased him for his bad habits, especially this one. “Yeah well,” he says in an inhale, “now’s as good a’ time as any, right?”

He grins at you, smug. It sends you reeling and you hope your thundering heartbeat doesn’t give you away. Maybe it’s just the alcohol.

After a few minutes of silence, he stomps his cigarette out on the pavement and turns to fully face you. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

His words steal the breath from your lungs and your breath hitches in your throat.  Steve’s complimented you before, thousands of times. So why does this feel like you’ve just been slammed into a wall of concrete?

“Steve…”

You feel like he’s getting closer. You’ve definitely had too much to drink.

Before you can stop yourself or even comprehend what’s happening, you vomit all the contents of your stomach directly onto Steve’s perfectly polished loafers. He yelps, most in surprise, slightly in horror. Despite that undeniable foulness of the situation, his hands immediately move to hold your hair back, just in case you aren’t, well, finished. 

You don’t realize it, but you’ve started crying. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re okay,” he soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” He starts to lead you to his car in the parking lot, leaving you here alone not an option for him. “What about Nancy?” you sob, “I’ll come back and get her, honey. Don’t worry.” Honey. You almost puke again.

Once he settles you into the passenger seat of his pristine BMW, you watch as he toes off his shoes and throws them in the garbage. When he slides into the driver's seat and turns on the ignition, he turns and brings a palm up to cradle your jaw. “Guess I’m gonna have to keep an eye on ya next time,” he chuckles, “can’t handle your mildly spiked punch.” You groan, but give a breathy chuckle of your own, “Just drive, Harrington.”

When you arrive home, you breathe a sigh of relief at the lack of your family car in the driveway. Your mother would certainly pitch a fit if she saw you like this - mascara streaked down your face, an obnoxious yellow stain down the front of your once flawless dress. Steve leads you upstairs with a hand on the small of your back, and a palm cradling your elbow. You know you’re not drunk, and you’re almost positive that wasn’t the reason you spilled your guts. But the alternative to just letting Steve take care of you would be admitting that you love him, that you’re in love with him.

You don’t bother taking your makeup off, Steve just helps you change into an old t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. “Lights on or off?” He asks as he pulls the covers up and over you, “Off, please.” he gives you a little two-finger salute, “you got it.” Just as he’s reaching underneath your lamp shade you whisper, “Steve?” he looks, “yeah trouble?” “I’m sorry for ruining your night…and throwing up on your shoes.” you give a sheepish look. Even though he would have every right to be, you know he’s not mad at you.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of your head,”the shoes we can discuss at a later date,” he shoots you a wink, making sure you know he’s only teasing.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Without another word he closes the bedroom door, bathing you in darkness. Just before you succumb to sleep, you’re filled with dread at the thought that you’re gonna remember this in the morning.

Cheers to senior year.

[miyukisu]

NSFW Alphabet | Karasu Tabito .ᐟ

❤︎ | Get to know Karasu Tabito from A to Z~ ╰ feat. karasu tabito x afab! reader

minors do not interact

[A] Aftercare You should know that he takes aftercare seriously and believes that it's (almost) as important as the sex itself. He's adamant about getting to it, but not before cuddling for a few minutes. But if he starts feeling icky with all the sweat and other things, he'll get up and force you to take a shower and to pee. Definitely will click his tongue at you if you ask to lie in bed for 5 more minutes. But it's okay because he can carry you to the bathroom anyway. He has a bit of fun with you in the shower, but will dry off before you so that he can go change the sheets.

[B] Body Part Karasu loves staring into your eyes since it's how he can tell someone's truly sincere. He believes in the saying, "the eyes are the window to the soul." Naturally, that means he likes being able to get lost in your eyes while fucking the life out of you. But he likes seeing you screw your eyes shut in pleasure just as much. On himself, he probably likes his arms the most. Not only is it useful for his football style, but those are the same arms that hug you, carry you, and hold on to you while he does unspeakable things to you. He'll be so cocky about it—flexing them for you at the most random moments. Also, he won't admit it, but he loves it when you bite his biceps.

[C] Cum He cums a lot and usually in long ropes which makes clean up a bit of a hassle. It's translucent—bordering on clear—and it's not that viscous. However, it's not the best tasting since he's not that strict with his diet. With that being said, he won't pressure you into swallowing it, but it would make his heart (dick) swell with pride if you soldier on and swallow his seed anyway. He likes cumming specifically on your hip bone for 2 reasons: one, it's the nearest part when he has to pull out, and two, he likes seeing it so near to your dripping cunt. So close yet so far, he would think. Has a slight breeding kink if you can't tell yet.

[D] Dirty Secret He doesn't like the idea of filming your private time; he's a bit of an old man at heart, so he doesn't trust technology like that. But sometimes he'll leave his phone by the nightstand to record audio instead. He gets off more on sound rather than visuals when he's alone. It's his primary jack-off material basically. He loves hearing all your moans and whimpers. Karasu especially loves the part when you abruptly let out a high-pitched and breathless moan. It makes him smirk a bit even while fisting his cock to you. If you're into phone sex, he'll record those calls sometimes—more jack-off material. Though he cringes at his own voice sometimes when he listens to it again.

[E] Experience He has enough experience that he's decent in bed, but not a lot. It just so happens that he had encounters like that and it felt right at the time. Karasu doesn't think much about them though, especially if those were simple flings. He differentiates sex for experience and sex for connection. He likes to ask what his partner likes and if he's doing okay—much of his good performance comes from that.

[F] Favorite Position A sucker for missionary. He likes it because he can see your face and the expressions that you make. It's even better since he can lean down into your neck and let your moans pour directly into his ear. It gets him going. Karasu also loves the feeling of caging you between his arms. Although, if missionary gets boring, he also likes going into the lotus position. He can still see your face—even better this way. But the beauty of this one is that he can hold you close to his body in a secure embrace. But also because you can perch your head in the crook of his neck and whisper sweet nothings to him.

[G] Goofy It depends on the context really. Most of the time he's serious—silent and attentive—only making a sound to whisper dirty things in your ear. That's usually the case when emotions build-up and eventually leads to sex. Although, if you get into it because he was teasing you or you were being a brat—the more likely it is that he'll be flashing that cocky smirk of his. He'd let out an occasional chuckle when he sees how cockdrunk you become. He's not that stiff; he'll laugh when he truly feels like it. But he'll show you sincerity for the majority of your "fun" times.

[H] Hair He doesn't really think much about his situation down there. He'll trim it every once in a while, but not totally. Karasu forgets about it a lot, though it doesn't bother him. He'll tend to it when he feels like it. If his partner requests that he trims it more often, he'll feel hassled by it but would try to comply. However, if he's asked to completely shave it—don't expect him to. He doesn't dig the bald look on himself. With that being said, he doesn't really care about his partner's hair down there. As long as it's clean and well-taken care of, he could care less if there's hair. But he doesn't dig the completely shaven look on his partner either.

[I] Intimacy He seems very cold and rigid the first few times that you do it—like he's doing it because you're supposed to do that in a relationship. It's not that he's not enjoying it, but more so because he isn't ready to be vulnerable just yet. His flings would be like this. But give him some time and his walls will come crashing down. Once he feels comfortable, he'll wear his heart on his sleeve for you. Emotional sex—that's it. That's the post. Kidding, but you'll really feel how much he loves and cares for you through his actions and his words. He can be such a sap.

[J] Jack Off He probably does so most days of the week. Multiple times in a day though? Rarely. It often happens in the mornings when he has to take care of the usual morning wood. Typically does it out of necessity and rubs a quick one before taking a shower. Although, there are nights when his mind wanders and boom—he's horny. He'll quickly pull his shirt off and take his time, unlike in the morning. He also loooves to edge himself. That's another reason he does it at night—more time, less disturbances. The only downside is that he needs jack off material now.

[K] Kinks We all know he has a raging voice kink. He loves hearing anything from you—moans, whimpers, praises (this one especially), affectionate insults, and of course, his name. But one kink that isn't so evident at first is his size kink. Karasu likes to think of himself as quite the large guy—muscular, hulking, intimidating. So to see a pretty little thing like you on the verge of being ruined by him does inexplicable things to his brain. He likes hovering over you to emphasize the difference in your size. He'll hold your smaller hand and cup your cheek with his larger hand. This kink of his mostly stems from his inclination towards "cute" girls.

[L] Location He's not a fan of public sex. Don't get him wrong though; he enjoys playing around in public—rubbing each other under the table, grinding his hard on against your ass while waiting in line, or whispering dirty things while at a party. But when it comes to the actual sex, he'd rather do it somewhere private. You can do the teasing anywhere, but best believe that he's hauling your ass back home the moment it gets serious. For one, he'd just hate it if someone were to see you in such a compromising position. And he'd hate having to deal with what comes after being caught. In most places it's downright illegal. He's not about to risk breaking the law for an orgasm—no matter how good it is. A pretty rational man through and through.

[M] Motivation He says he hates it, but I'd like to think he loves it when you whisper something dirty in his ear. Hell, you could simply moan and he'll know what's up. Anyway, it's pretty easy to rile him up. You could feel him up or let him feel you up. You could prance around your space while wearing little to no clothing. Or you could outright ask him for it and he'll give it to you. He's a no nonsense guy when it comes to initiating. But more often than not, he'll be the one making the first move anyway.

[N] No Not into extreme pain or degradation. He would hate to hurt you to the point it would leave a nasty scar or make you bleed. Light pain is alright—biting, marking, spanking, and the like. Always makes sure you're still okay with it as well. He doesn't mind using harsh nicknames or saying nasty shit to you every once in a while, but he wouldn't want to be degraded himself. He's TOO big into praise to even consider that. Plus, he takes your words (specifically) to his heart. Karasu doesn't think he can handle hearing harsh words directed towards him coming from you.

[O] Oral Prefers to give more than receive (but he won't refuse EVER if you do offer to give him oral). But he likes going down on you more so that he can hear your beautiful sounds. Even though he's the one going to town on you—best believe that he's getting off to your voice anyway. It's basically a win-win situation for him. And did I mention that he's an absolute monster at oral? He's so messy with it and so shameless. He'll really push his face into your heat relentlessly. Karasu knows your pussy like the back of his hand and knows all the spots to lick and suckle on. A foreplay god—is what I'm trying to say.

[P] Pace Depends mostly on his mood and how demanding you are. There are times he prefers to go slow but hard because of how amusing your sounds are to him. But most of the time, he can't really commit to that pace. He gets restless and you can tell because he speeds up all of a sudden. The cocky smirk gets replaced by a more serious and focused expression. The usual indicator that he's about to go to pound town is when he grips your waist tightly, almost bruising. Tell him to go rougher—and he will. Although, be prepared to not walk much the next day.

[Q] Quickie Of course, he prefers a proper session, but he doesn't mind engaging in quickies every now and then when really necessary. Besides, he's the one usually asking for one. He's quite easy to tempt, so even if there are time constraints, he'll make it happen. He can control himself better while in public—at least dragging you into the car if he really needs to release his pent up "frustrations". But when it's just the two of you? He'll bend you over and get the job done right away—returning to his normal everyday tasks like nothing happened. To him, it's like scratching an itch.

[R] Risk Not heavily into risk. He's fine with slightly risky situations (e.g. few people around, really hidden, etc). But he'll never put you in a highly risky situation. It would piss him off if anyone saw you in such a compromising state. The temporary thrill and excitement isn't worth it for his jealousy. Though he does like to play around with you to see your reaction—caressing your pussy under the table, texting you or whispering something dirty while with friends, or subtly squeezing your ass.

[S] Stamina Does it really matter when he's a beast at foreplay? Well, even after he coaxes a couple orgasms from you, he'll obviously still have energy for actual sex. Though he's not that consistent when it comes to stamina. There are days when he's tired or not really feeling it as much, so he might last for just one round. On those days, he'd rather have you in his arms while relaxing. However, on days when it's almost like he's on a rut—he'll go for as long as you need him to. When he's extra frustrated, it's like his dick won't go down at all. He's the type to shoot blanks after going at it for so long. He'll keep groaning in your ear about how, "he hasn't had enough."

[T] Toys Quite the traditional man, so it has never occurred to him to use toys. But he's not exactly against it either. Although, I feel like he'd be too shy to purchase these things himself. Maybe he'll try it online, but he would prefer it if you bought it. That way—he'll keep his "dignity" and you can go ahead and choose something that you know you will enjoy. Truth be told, he's mostly doing it because he wants you to feel better. More about your pleasure rather than his. Oh, but he'll have fun using a vibe on you.

[U] Unfair He loves giving, so I can't imagine him being unfair at all unless you ask him to. Honestly, he gets off seeing you writhe in pleasure. So depriving you of that is equivalent to him blue balling himself. He's not a masochist by any means, so he won't ever be unfair with you.

[V] Volume His pride forbids him from moaning or whimpering. As a "manly man" he's only permitted to low grunts or groans. But the unavoidable happens and he gets "lost in the sauce." He'll start moaning a bit more—whispering about how good you feel around him. There's a chance he might whimper slightly if he hasn't felt you for a long time. He's just so pent up that he doesn't give a shit about anything else. Other than that, he doesn't want to be so loud because he wouldn't want to drown our YOUR sounds. (I feel like he also cringes inwardly when he becomes hyperaware of his volume).

[W] Wild Card He realizes it later on by accident, but he loves fucking in front of a mirror. Karasu loves to see you unravel because of him, but to actually see himself do that to you? It changes things for him; it's so much better that way. It further heightens his size kink because now he can see clear as day how bigger he is compared to you—how he can engulf you so easily with his larger frame and his thick arms. He won't outright tell you, but you can kind of tell by how he always seems to drag you to the spot where both of you can be seen in the full length mirror of your room.

[X] X Ray He is hung. That's it. But seriously, he's bigger than average. He has good length—reaches all the necessary spots, but not enough to actually hurt you. The way he stretches you out is just right as well. He's extra sensitive at the tip and the underside of his dick; he feels as if he'd cum prematurely if you gave too much attention to those areas. It's a given, but he's a shower. He still grows a bit when hard, but not so much. But for some reason, he hates you seeing it flaccid.

[Y] Yearning His drive is a little above average, but it fluctuates a lot depending on his mood and errands. But it's important to note that he'll never force you into anything if your moods don't match. His drive might be high, but he's not some monster without any self-restraint. Most of the time he can be satiated with cuddles or any type of skin-to-skin with you. However, it's more unbearable for him if you're away from him. He'd rather not have sex but have you near than to not have sex because you're miles away from each other. If that makes sense.

[Z] Zzz Admits that he wants to snooze as soon as your done, but his protective instinct is way too hard to ignore. At the very least, he'll get the two of you clean first before hitting the hay. Also, he's a man of foresight. He probably already laid out a towel or any sort of barrier on the bed so that clean up isn't a hassle afterwards. That or he fucks you somewhere else around the house so you can sleep right away. Sometimes, his sleepiness vanishes completely when you offer another round in the shower before actually cleaning yourselves up. Like I said, he can never say no to you.

©kzyluvr do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note self indulgent as you can see

[apocalypse-shuffle]

BLACK NOIR | EARVING (the boys)

—

“Promotion” (Black Noir x Fem!Reader)

| Being Black Noir’s new handler and him becoming obsessed with you since Mr. Edgar himself assigned you to him.

| SFW, vought employee!reader, (TW: Noir is kind of stalking the Reader, who’s uncomfortable but adapting mostly)

| 1k+ words

“You want me to…what?”

“Be Noir’s new personal handler.” He fans his hands out on the table with a shrug and gives you a disarming smile. “You’ll be expected to parlay direct mission instructions from me, accompany him to said missions and stay with the deployment team. I expect you to give written reports on his performance at the end of every day, active mission or not…”

Your eyes continue to widen as his barrage keeps going. This job would require you to be present for everything short of Noir wiping his ass and even then you’ll be outside the restroom.

Mr. Edgar finishes, gives you an expectant look, and you clear your throat.

“And, what if I don’t want the new position?”

“I don’t see why not.” He shrugs, “I mean unless you don’t think you’re good enough for the promotion. Then I suppose I’ll just have to tell Ashley her recommendation was for naught.”

You laugh.

“No no, that’s fine. There’s no need to tell her anything…” you gulp, watching the man just look back at you before taking a second more to inhale, “…ex-cept that her recommendation payed off.”

He tilts his head and it feels like his eyes are boring through your own, boiling your brain to mush. Your voice is small as you push the rest of your words out in one exhale.

“And that I’ll be starting my new position tomorrow. Sir.”

You stretch a smile across your face and hiss out a sigh of relief as that finally gets the man to respond.

He instantly reanimates, reaching atop his desk to hand you a secure black portfolio made from hard plastic.

“That’s great. I’m glad you decided to take on this new journey, Ms. L/n. May it serve you well. Have a good day.”

You don’t dare drop your smile as you take the offered portfolio and shove it under your arm.

“Right.” You take a moment to mourn the loss of your old job before nodding, “Thank you for the opportunity, Sir. You have a good day as well.”

The older man nods back at you, attention immediately gone back to his computer monitor afterward. You blow out air from your nose and then turn on your heels.

It’s not until you’ve left the board room that it hits you.

“Shit.”

The man had just played you. Goddamn Edgar and his resoluteness. Once he’d decided to “ask” you about the upgrade in position he never intended for it to be an actual request.

You rub your temple and head to the restroom. At least you had the rest of the hours in the day before tackling your new job.

You hunker down in the stall after peeing to look over the papers Mr. Edgar gave you. As you're skimming through a whole lot of shit marked “classified” or “redacted” you have the stray thought to be glad that Translucent’s creep ass wasn’t here to ogle you and be all in your business anymore.

Thank the higher power for small mercies, you suppose.

All the snippets of information you're gathering are kind of baffling. Legal name: Earving (of all things), biological male, six foot two, African-American (that’s fun; may be the reason he took such a liking to you too, not many black people made it to the top floors of Vought after all). You dog-ear a packet about some sort of imaginary animals he sees in his mind before looking over a page about a severe peanut allergy. Hmm.

By the end of the day you’ve nearly gotten all the way through Noir’s portfolio, and you’ve also worked up an itch to get out of your skin that means you’re not working overtime worth a goddamn.

At six o’clock on the dot all of your crap is already quite thoroughly packed, your former workspace - barren thing that it already was due to regulations - was cleaned out and ready for the next poor soul, and you’re in the elevator heading for the sub-level garage.

Dead stare locked onto the floor numbers you become acutely aware of the bags weighing your eyes down.

“Fuck,” you sigh.

Black Noir's Personal Handler.

Despite Mr. Edgar’s clear efforts it was more than a little known open secret that personal handlers rarely got to retire. Madelyn Stillwell’s death might’ve been something none of you dared discuss for fear of either Edgar or - heaven forbid - Homelander catching wind and putting you back in your place, but it was a pattern of the job that you all were well aware of.

Though you’d take Mr. Edgar’s culling over whatever Homelander could possibly come up with.

Something about his blonde, blue-eyed, ass didn’t sit right with your spirit.

Far as PR and wrangling went though, short of maybe Starlight, any wrinkles Black Noir managed to make would be the easiest to smooth out.

Plus, even with you and Noir having some form of a pre-established relationship it was in no way dependent or built upon you being Noir’s emotional epicenter like Madelyn and Homelander’s weird…dynamic was.

You had seen and heard far too much in your years working for Vought to think for a second that there wasn’t something dark and twisted going on with The Seven, but Noir still seemed mellow in comparison to the rest and their constant ego trips and dick measuring.

You had zero clue how letting the fully covered man teach you a few notes to a song at the Christmas party when everyone was drunk off eggnog and watered down booze and sitting with him when he was crying on the floor once led you to this.

Sure the silent man and you had somewhat hit it off - so far as you were one of the few non-supers he didn’t intimidate or just flat out ignore - but to be made so intimately in charge of him seemed like a bit much.

Noir had seemed endlessly patient with you as he played for you and then eventually decided he’d teach you how to play the piano yourself, the sides of your bodies’ shifting incrementally until you were pressed flush to one another in both of yous concentration, so you could really only hope he kept that same levelness with you as his handler.

You bank the corner, work bag and portfolio on the same arm, and fish out your keys so you can unlock your trunk and shove your shit inside.

Hope truly was the name of the game here unfortunately. You could only hope Noir kept up his “good” streak, and that that streak wasn’t just a farce that you were now in charge of covering up. Hope that he didn’t end up getting angry or reckless and making you one of those *redacted* cases with a ‘cause of death, unknown’ attached to your name, because you could do nothing to stop him if he wanted to kill you.

Shiver racking up your spine and turning your blood to static, you snap your trunk closed, turning to leave when—

“—Fucking Christ!”

Eyes gone wide and spit having nearly choked you from your sharp inhalation before your exclamation, you do your best to appear composed as Black Noir himself steps out from a conclave of shadows to stand in front of you.

The Devil, you find yourself thinking. Had he been following you this whole time?

For his part Noir doesn’t move aside from cocking his head to the side.

Steadily, you force calmness onto yourself. Ignoring that your voice is too high when you call his name.

“Black Noir,” you say, trying to seep the professionalism back into your tone while smoothing down the creases in your pantsuit, “surprised to see you here. What can I do for you?”

The smile you offer him feels wonky even as you command the muscles up, but it’s the best you can do with your heart hammering against your chest as if it wants to run off and leave you behind.

For a couple more beats the man doesn’t do more than size you up presumably before finally - as you were weighing the pros and cons of just getting in your car despite his presence - raising a hand to point at your trunk.

You catch on to his meaning fairly quickly, your smile dropping to something more natural whilst you huff a tiny laugh.

“Oh yeah, guess Mr. Edgar must’ve told you. I’m your new handler - you know, if you had one before that is. I don’t…actually know…” you trail off, shifting on your heels when Noir only continues to keep his stillness.

“Mhm,” you mutter, rocking backwards, just staring until finally Noir shifts and there’s suddenly a pad and pen in his hand.

He flips casually to a clear page before starting to write and you’re fairly sure this is the first time he’s ever actually ‘talked’ to you.

Huh.

Not long after does the pad get flipped over and brandished to you. You click your teeth together.

‘Edgar says you’ll do good,’ he scribbles, writing absolute chicken scratch and letters far too large on the medium sized pages, before flipping the pad back to himself and writing some more.

‘Believe in you!’ and a whole bunch of smiley faces is what meets you once he lets you see.

You blink. Noir puts the pad back wherever he had it initially to give you two thumbs up.

You muster a slightly bigger half smile for his efforts.

“Thanks Noir,” you say, words more sincere than you’d been expecting.

A nod and an eternity more of silence and staring is what he gives you in response.

You’re getting ready to shift, to awkwardly relay that you’d like to be getting home soon, when Noir stiffens suddenly - and isn’t that startling, a man so tall and so strapped with sharp explosive deadly things going so alert like that - head tilting like he’s listening for something.

A few seconds go by like that where he doesn’t do anything else and you fight to keep yourself still, smile gone and part of your lip caught firmly between your teeth.

Then Noir’s giving you a nod and leaving just as silently and unseenly as he had come.

You wait another two-three beats before scrambling into your car. The sound of your lock engaging sounds like salvation and the steering wheel feels like a lifeline as you grip it with stiff nearly foreign fingers.

God.

You force a deep breath into your lungs, make sure it comes out more steadily than it came in.

At least Mr. Edgar didn’t dump you onto Homelander’s lap. Something in you shrivels up and dies at the mere prospect. You nod, your hands flexing on the steering wheel.

This was definitely better.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

This is a semi companion story to “Pandora’s Melody” if you’d like to check that one out as well.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[readsaboutreid]

Fantasies (Part II) | S.R.

summary: Spencer and (Y/N) have been working back to back to back cases before finally getting a weekend off and take the opportunity to go to a local convention and have some fun cosplaying.

this is smutty smutty smut smut so 18+, minors dni please and thank you :)

contains: oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, roleplay, creampie

the first part can be found here (it's also 18+ and smut sorry but also not sorry)

also before any potential trekkies come for me yes i am aware that in the early to mid aughts Vulcan was a ridiculously hard language to learn but suspend your disbelief because the thirst for early series spencer reid is real for me okay?

any dialogue in italics is in Vulcan, any dialogue in regular text is in English :)

"You almost ready, (Y/N)?" Spencer asked through the door to the bathroom, knocking lightly as he did so. "Garcia is supposed to be here in 15 minutes so we have to make sure we're ready before then."

"Almost!" She called back, "just finishing up my makeup!"

Spencer took a look in the full-body mirror that she had resting up against the wall. He decided to cosplay as a generic original series star fleet science officer to keep it simple, but (Y/N) offered to help him put on some proper prosthetics so now he's a generic Vulcan science officer (with slightly less than Vulcan hair). He gently fiddled with the ears as he looked in the mirror and then jumped slightly as he felt a pair of small arms gently wrap around his waist from behind before he heard the soft, mellifluous voice of his girlfriend from over his shoulder.

"Don't do that too much," she chided him with a good natured chuckle, "I worked hard on applying those!"

"Sorry, angel," he offered a sheepish apology (complete with embarrassed smile), before turning around to face her and gently plant a kiss on her lips. She stood on her toes and moved her arms from around his waist and wrapped them around his shoulders. His arms snaked their way around her waist as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth and dancing against her own.

Once they broke apart, Spencer took the chance to take in her own outfit. She looked much more convincing in her Vulcan cosplay with her natural hair concealed under a wig that was styled into a perfect chin-length bob, the front of it pushed back and tucked behind her prosthetic ears, and slightly curved bangs that were just long enough to cover the fact that she very much had human eyebrows. She had also decided to go with an Original Series cosplay, wearing a short blue star fleet dress with a translucent pair of black thigh high stockings. On her feet were a pair of black knee high leather boots with a small two-inch heel.

Spencer became aware of how uncomfortably tight his pants were starting to feel and cleared his throat, looking at literally anything else (he settled on keenly observing the books on his shelf, noting to himself that he should really get around to dusting at some point). He couldn't afford to be horny if they were going to be hanging out with Garcia and her friend for the day.

"You okay, there, Spencer?" The melodic giggle snapped him back to reality, and he could feel his face burn as his cheeks blushed a bright shade of red. He was painfully cognizant of the fact that her hands were now tracing along the waistband of his black pants, immediately nullifying his efforts to decrease his arousal. Her fingertips moved lower, ghosting over the bulge in the front.

Spencer let his mouth drop open before managing to stammer out, "(Y/N), we don't have enough time to—" his voice cut out as he gasped at the sudden sensation of her small, soft fingers slipping past the waistband of his pants and briefs, gently wrapping around his throbbing member.

"Well, Dr. Reid," she began slowly stroking up and down, earning a soft but enthusiastic whine from Spencer. He'd never tire of hearing her call him that. "It would seem you're in no position to be going anywhere quite yet. The most logical course of action would be to relieve you before the arrival of our companions, would it not?"

Holy shit. He had fantasized about roleplaying with her like this ever since she had brought it up a few months back. His knees buckled at the thought.

A moan forced its way through his lips as his hips bucked up into her hand. "You make a very sound argument, Dr. (Y/L/N), but I don't know if we have ti—oh my god yes!" She ran her thumb over the leaking tip, and then started to sink to her knees. She planted sloppy kisses along the waistband of his pants before working the fly on the front with deft and eager fingers. As soon as his cock was freed from its constraints her lips were wrapping around the tip. His fingers quickly tangled into her hair and he had to restrain himself from pushing her down onto him further as her tongue danced and swirled across him.

Thankfully she didn't make him wait for too long, her mouth starting to slowly envelop the rest of him until he could feel the tip hit the back of her throat. She gagged lightly and pulled back a little bit, bringing her hand up to wrap around the part of his shaft that didn't quit fit into her mouth and stroking it in rhythm with her bobbing head.

With a fresh burst of energy, Spencer moved his hips in time with her hand, his knees weakened by the desire coursing through his veins. He knew they didn't have much time left before Garcia and her friend arrived, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her to stop. He was lost in a world of pure sensation, her lips, her tongue, her hand, it was almost too much for him to bear.

As she increased the pace of her movements, his breath came in shallow gasps, trying to fight the urge to shout out her name. He could feel the tension growing within him, a storm brewing deep inside him.

(Y/N)'s lips moved up and down around his shaft, her tongue dancing along the sensitive skin as she took him deeper than he thought possible. He could feel her throat constricting around him, her saliva filling his mind with the images of her lips and the sound of her moaning as she pleasured him. He couldn't imagine anything more incredible, more fulfilling, than the sensation of (Y/N)'s lips and tongue on him, wrapped around him so intimately.

(Y/N), her eyes closed in concentration, sensed that he was nearing his climax. She increased the tempo of her movements, her hand and mouth in perfect harmony, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Her eyes remained shut, fully immersed in the task at hand, completely unaware of the world outside of their bubble.

As the climax grew nearer, Spencer could feel his entire body trembling with the intensity of the sensation. His fingers tightened in her hair, gently urging her on as his cock throbbed with need. The room seemed to blur around them, their world shrinking down to just the two of them and the ecstasy that consumed them.

(Y/N) seemed to read his mind, picking up the pace even more as she continued to stroke his cock and suck his shaft with fervor. Her eyes remained closed, her focus completely on the task at hand. She knew that he was close, and she wanted to make sure he reached that peak of pleasure he so desperately craved. He could feel his orgasm building inside him, a storm of intensity that threatened to consume him whole.

And then, without warning, it hit him like a tidal wave. With a loud groan, Spencer's body convulsed as he released his load into (Y/N)'s mouth. She didn't hesitate, swallowing every drop, her eyes still closed as she continued to pleasure him until the very last drop.

The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing. Spencer's body shook with aftershocks, his knees weak and legs trembling as he tried to catch his breath.

(Y/N) finally pulled her mouth away with a soft pop, a satisfied smile spreading across her face as she licked her lips and looked up at him sweetly, the sight making Spencer's heart race even more.

They were brought back to reality by the sound of a doorbell. (Y/N) shot to her feet and checked the mirror, attempting to straighten her hair by combing her fingers through it, before walking through the door and heading to the front door. As (Y/N) let in their friends Spencer could hear Penelope from the living room as she began laughing and said, "girl whatever you two were doing has left your hair a wreck!"

Spencer and (Y/N) sat at a small table with their giant soft pretzels, Garcia and her friend having wandered off to watch a panel. They both sat at the table, their feet aching slightly from walking around in the convention center. Spencer's pretzel sat forgotten in front of him, all of his focus on his girlfriend sitting across from him. Her face was slightly flushed from the warmth in the convention center, the heat from the crowds easily overpowering the AC running in the building. His eyes roamed from her cheeks to her breasts, straining against the fabric of her dress.

"Spencer?" (Y/N) waved a hand in front of his face, "anybody in there?" She gave another one of her trilling giggles and Spencer felt a small smile spread across his lips involuntarily at the sound. He slowly brought his eyes up to meet hers and his smile turned into a sheepish grin at the loving yet exasperated look she was giving him.

"Sorry, heh," Spencer chuckled nervously as his face burned with embarrassment at being caught blatantly ogling her chest in public.

She muttered as she shook her head. It took Spencer a second to realize why he couldn't figure it out until he asked her to repeat herself. "I said, 'men at conventions are all the same,' you silly, silly man," she smirked at him. His eyes went wide as she spoke Vulcan as fluently as any other language, and his heart skipped a beat. He was sure he'd lose consciousness with how quickly the blood rushed from his brain to his dick.

"Y-you speak Vulcan?" He responded, also speaking Vulcan, trying to hide his growing erection by crossing his legs.

A wicked grin spread across her lips. She took note of his shifting posture and his flushing face as she responded, "is there a problem, doctor? You're flushed and sweating."

"Have you finished your food?" Was his only response as he began gathering up his own trash and standing up. His breathing was slightly uneven and when he finally looked at her and met her eyes, she saw the raw need emanating from them.

Spencer could see her piece together what was going through his head and noticed as her smile took on a nearly feline quality. "Doctor, are you suffering from the Blood Fever?" She crooned as she, too, began gathering up her trash and belongings. Her movements were slow and leisurely, and as she stood she remarked in English that she should probably shoot a text to Garcia that they were headed out for the day. He stood by the table and leaned against it, casually slipping his hands into his pocket so he could adjust himself in his pants to conceal his raging boner.

She moved to stand a couple inches in front of him and looked up at him through her eyelashes and flashed him an innocent glance and a not-so-innocent smile. He throbbed in his pants and she reached for his hand and began leading him towards the exit.

The cab ride back to his apartment had been torture, to say the least. Spencer's cocked throbbed and ached the entire way and (Y/N) did nothing to help the situation, whispering things into his ear in Vulcan that he had never dreamt of anyone ever actually using the language to say while tracing lazy circles on his chest with her fingers.

He all but sprinted up the steps while pulling her by the hand behind him. He fumbled and dropped his keys as he attempted to unlock the door but quickly managed to get the door open and as soon as they were both inside his lips found hers. He kicked the door shut and began guiding her towards his bedroom while his hands found her waist. As they entered the room he tore his lips from hers and took the chance to take her in. Her pupils were blown wide, her lips were swollen and parted slightly, and her cheeks were flushed as she panted lightly.

His lips found hers again as he slowly began to guide her towards the bed, gently laying her down on the bed and crawling on top of her. His hips rested between her open thighs and his cock pressed up against her clothed pussy. He ground himself against her and both of them moaned at the friction.

"What of the Ritual, doctor?" She smirked up at him as he began trailing his kisses from her lips to her chin, then down to her neck. He bit down on a sensitive spot gently before soothing it with his tongue, earning a gasp from (Y/N) as her back arced off the bed.

"Forget the Ritual, I need to take you now," he moaned as he ground against her harder before pulling back to unfasten the button of his pants, followed by the zipper. He pushed his pants and briefs down just far enough to free his cock and hissed as the cool air of his room met with the aching flesh. When he looked back down at (Y/N) he noticed she had taken to opportunity to remove her own underwear and wasted no further time as he pressed himself back into her, groaning at the slickness that awaited him.

He positioned his cock at the entrance to her dripping cunt, nudging up against her gently. She whimpered and bucked her hips up, trying to push him into her. He began slowly pushing into her, inch by throbbing inch, until he was buried all the way into her. They both let out long, drawn out sounds of pure ecstasy. Spencer pulled out a couple inches and then pushed back in as (Y/N) hooked her ankles together behind him, her heels pressing into him. He maintained this pace as he leaned onto one arm, freeing up his other hand to reach in between them and start teasing her clit, pressing feverish kisses into her neck while he gently fucked her.

She moved her hips against his, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she panted and mewled underneath him. "How does it feel, (Y/N)?" He crooned into her ear, his breathing becoming ragged. He sped up his hips, earning a loud moan in response. "Come on, (Y/N), use your words."

"Harder, please," she whimpered, throwing her head back and crying out in pleasure as he obliged. He reared up above her, biting his lip and screwing his eyes shut as he felt himself racing towards his own climax. He opened his eyes right as she reached her hand between them to take over rubbing little circles onto her clit and nearly lost himself in the sight. Her dress was pushed up over her hips, her eyes fluttering back into her head, and her face and neck flushed a deep scarlet. His breathing grew rougher and more ragged and his thrusts became disjointed as he moaned louder and louder.

"Yes, please fill me doctor!" She cried, and Spencer finished with a shout in response, throwing his head back and stilling his hips as he came. (Y/N)'s own orgasm hit her like a ton of bricks, ripping through her body and making her pull him into her, melting into a single being of tangled limbs and desperate moans.

He panted above her, resting his forehead against her neck as he slowly pulled out of her and collapsed next to her on the bed. He turned to reach for the box of tissues he kept on his nightstand, cleaning himself up and handing allowing (Y/N) to clean herself up as well, before pulling his pants back up and pulling her into him, laying her head against his chest.

"We have to do this again," she giggled sleepily, rubbing lazy circles into his chest with her fingers. He nodded and kissed the top of her head, his eyelids heavy.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he mumbled as sleep finally began to take hold of him.

[ctrlkenma]

𝐓𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮, 𝐈 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰. — Atsumu Miya.

• tooth-rotting fluff, hints of tsundere atsumu, implied artist!reader (it's pretty on the nose, honestly), slight angst if you squint, wc (0.9k)

• cross posted on ao3 under the username 'hcneyy_dew"

Subtleties aren't Atsumu Miya's strongest suit.

For an individual with a presence as imposing as his, (or rather, to word it better), for a person of his notoriety, you'd guess the opposite - yet, you're almost certain right now, seated upon the cold, marble-tiled floor of your University’s Art Studio, that it's Atsumu Miya knocking. In spite of how it's barely about six in the morning, and, typically, due to long nights spent practicing in the university’s volleyball gym, he wouldn't be awake at such an odd hour.

Subtleties aren't Atsumu Miya's strongest suit.

And right now, standing at the door with his bottle-blonde shock of hair disheveled, eyes sporting eyebags that could only be described as heliotropic, brandishing a bottle of the turpentine from the brand you preferred you had complained earlier about finishing too quick, he was anything but subtle.

“Is it alright?”

Normally, Atsumu would be considered quite an obnoxious being due to the tone he'd possess whilst engaging in conversation with anyone. Yet, with you, it's as if he's enunciating each vowel, each syllable carefully enough to keep your attention to him, whilst, simultaneously, proclaiming so in a tone that was loud enough to keep him awake.

“Tsumu.” You whisper - carefully enough to lull him to sleep with that goddamned mellifluous voice of yours, yet sternly enough to always, always maintain his interest.

It's rather pitiful just how much of an effect your mere presence has on the athlete, despite him professing the opposite.

He raises an eyebrow as his name catches his exhausted mind, stepping closer to where you stood. “If it's not okay, I could get ‘ya a different brand - no, really, (Y/N), it's not that big of a deal.”

Atsumu’s usual brashness was evident in the way he stood, barely able to hide the exhaustion in his posture. It was clear in the way he fidgeted with the bottle of turpentine, unsure whether to approach or not.

To say you were overwhelmed would be considered the understatement of the year. Rather - it would be better off considered the understatement of the century, in light of the view before Atsumu - how you stood, frozen in place as if your feet were attached to the floor you stood on.

The thing is, the specific brand of turpentine you use is available exclusively at the local arts and crafts store - which is an approximate thirty minute drive from campus.

You're not sure what an appropriate response would be. Yet again, you're not sure if any response - in any dialect would suffice to drown out the sound of your heart thumping against your chest.

Your hands tremble as you hold the bottle, your breath catching slightly. His gaze locks with yours, and your heart skips a beat.

Affection isn't Atsumu Miya's strongest suit.

And you'd think you know him well enough to agree with such a statement, but the truth was, Atsumu Miya, with all his flaws, was madly, deeply, and irrevocably infatuated with you.

All you can do is stare upon the bottle of translucent liquid you held, alternating between heeding the crystalline substance and the gaze of the man that stood in front of you.

Affection isn't Atsumu Miya's strongest suit. It isn't supposed to be.

Yet, with you suddenly rushing toward where he stood (granted, mere steps away from you), and enveloping him into your embrace, it was as if your bodies had mended together - maintaining a position that felt so right, so utterly natural, that being devoid of the warmth of Atsumu's body, even if it meant for the slightest second, would feel alarmingly out of place.

Your breath slows as you hold him, the warmth of his body comforting. The world outside fades as you find solace and utter comfort in his arms.

“I love you, Tsumu.” You state, taking in deep, slow breaths to calm yourself - and him, too.

But with all he's done for you, despite the gravity of how he feels for you, Atsumu can't say it back.

Why can't he say it back?

Despite the fact that you, the pinnacle of perfection, stood before him, your body perfectly aligning with his, saying exactly the words he's longed to hear, he hesitates, his eyes searching yours as if looking for the right words, but they never come.

Bringing his hands to your lips, you press a soft kiss to his calloused fingertips, his palm cupping the curve of your face right after.

The two of you are breathing in unison. It's a symphony of sharp inhales and rather prolonged, heavy exhales as the two of you attempt to possess some control over your emotions. It's rather automatic, too, as if this was how you were always meant to breathe - to the hymn of Atsumu's heart beating soundly against your ear.

“I know.” The athlete finally says, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head - but not before adding a small “And I love you, too.”

His words come out in a rush, as if they’ve been on the tip of his tongue for too long. It’s quiet, almost swallowed by the moment.

It couldn't have been a decibel above a whisper, yet, you manage to heed it. You manage to heed and grasp the sheer weight his words possessed.

Truth was, Atsumu had known he had loved you for years now. Not when he had first run into you at the University’s first-year orientation after years of seeing one another. It wasn't when you had first painted him - no, it had been when, in the third grade, you had guided him in making his first acrylic paint portrait. While it might have turned out rather horrendous, for eight-year-old Atsumu Miya, everything seemed to fall into place with the sight of your face smeared in red paint.

Subtleties aren't Atsumu Miya's strongest suit.

Yet, loving you is probably what he's best at.

© heavenlyvaldez 2025, all rights reserved.

[sundaysconsort]

How would the men of HSR (your choices) act when jealous?

Entry: " It's You And Me "

Pairing: HSR! Dan Heng IL | HSR! Dan Heng | HSR! Veritas Ratio | HSR! Boothill

Information: As the night unfolds, you unexpectedly encounter an old friend whose demeanor feels oddly off-kilter. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he begins to mimic your boyfriend's mannerisms, adopting a mock persona designed to draw your attention and elicit a laugh. This attracts the attention to your partner who steps in to prevent any further bonding... he may not admit it, but, he wishes to be the one who makes you laugh and nobody else.

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Dan Heng IL x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Jealousy, Established Relationship, Possessiveness, Protective Behavior, Love Triangle (Implied), Assertive Partner, Tension, Flirting, Mild Rivalry, Territorial Instincts, Emotional Intensity, Public Displays Of Affection, Power Dynamics, Unspoken Feelings, Playful Banter, Intimate Moments, Subtle Dominance, Quiet Possessiveness, Affectionate Reassurance.

Warnings: Themes Of Jealousy and Possessiveness, Mild Tension between characters, Potential Discomfort From Protective Behavior, Minor Confrontation, Implied Power Imbalance In Relationships.

Dan Heng IL, Epochal Spectrum | 1.2k word count

The training grounds buzzed with energy, the rhythmic sound of feet striking the polished wooden floor echoing off the high, vaulted walls. Laughter filled the air as you and your friend engaged in a spirited sparring session, both of you exchanging playful jabs and teasing remarks, your camaraderie palpable under the watchful gaze of fellow trainees. The atmosphere was lighthearted and charged with excitement—until your friend leaned in a little too close, a mischievous smirk dancing on their lips, their eyes sparkling with a challenge that lingered just a moment too long.

Across the room stood Dan Heng in his form as a Vidyadhara, known as Imbibitor Lunae. He was tall and slender, he expressed an otherworldly elegance. Long black and teal hair cascaded down his back, framing his complexion. While he appeared relaxed, a tension knitted his brow. He watched intently, noticing how your friend leaned closer, trying to elicit another round of laughter from you. Their tone was playful yet steeped in familiarity, and each chuckle that escaped your lips only seemed to stoke the fires of irritation within him. This training session was meant to be simple and lighthearted, but he found himself grappling with a growing sense of possessiveness, perhaps a reflex rooted in his Vidyadhara heritage. Although once banished, he now found a strange sense of belonging in Jarilo-VI, carrying the burdensome weight of his past.

As your friend reached out, brushing their fingers against your arm while delivering another jest, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. Dan Heng's expression hardened, the familiar intensity and focus returning with a vengeance, his tail swishing restlessly behind him as he struggled to maintain a façade of calm. With deliberate steps, he advanced, closing the distance between you and your friend, transforming the playful banter into something far more serious. The bright blue of his eyes captivated you, vivid against his deep red eyeliner, drawing you in with an almost hypnotic allure.

"Hey," he said, his tone a careful blend of calm and authority, laced with an unmistakable edge of warning. "That's enough."

As a Vidyadhara, his pointed ears peeked through his hair, a subtle reminder of his heritage, which caught your friend's attention, followed by the translucent green horns.

Despite his clear disadvantage, your friend shot Dan Heng a defiantly challenging look, unbothered by the shift in energy. But Dan Heng was far from interested in playing games. The air crackled with unspoken tension as you felt the unmistakable weight of his presence draw nearer.

Before the moment could escalate further, Dan Heng closed the gap entirely, positioning himself resolutely between you and your friend. His stormy gaze locked onto yours with unwavering intensity, and in a breathtakingly unexpected movement, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both soft yet commanding. The world around you faded into a soft blur as you closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his lips against yours, all the while Dan Heng's fierce gaze remained fixed on your friend throughout the act.

This kiss felt heavy with meaning—a silent proclamation of possession, a declaration that you belonged to him. As he slowly pulled away, the vibrant hum of the training grounds dulled, leaving your heart racing from the unexpected intensity of the moment.

His eyes flickered between yours and your friend’s, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, but the look in his gaze was far from playful. "I’d reconsider," he said, his voice low, steady, and infused with an air of finality.

The kiss lingered in your mind as Dan Heng held your gaze, the world around you seeming almost surreal in its stillness. The laughter and playful taunts of your friends faded into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your heart pounding in your chest. What had just happened felt monumental, a point of no return that shifted the dynamic not only between you and Dan Heng but also amongst the entire gathering of trainees.

His grip on you remained firm but gentle, and you felt a surge of warmth at the casual confidence he exuded. The way he asserted himself so effortlessly, standing tall and unyielding between you and your friend, filled you with a mix of intrigue and admiration. Yet, as you caught a glimpse of your friend's stunned expression, a tinge of unease began to creep in. You wondered how this one moment would reshape your friendships and interactions in the days to come.

Dan Heng’s eyes, bright and deep, held a hint of a smile as he assessed the situation, ensuring you were alright before turning his attention to your friend. The playful camaraderie that once filled the room now felt fragile, like crystal ready to shatter. Dan Heng’s presence leaned into that tension, a confident reminder of the unspoken bond between you two that others could not easily penetrate.

“Didn’t you have enough fun?” he asked, his voice low but steady, carrying an air of authority. Your friend, never one to back down, squared their shoulders, still recovering from the unexpected display of affection. A smirk played on their lips, but the hardening of their demeanor signaled they recognized the weight of the moment.

“Seems like someone likes to lay claim,” your friend shot back, attempting to regain control of the playful banter. However, the edge in their tone suggested they acknowledged Dan Heng's implications. You felt an urge to diffuse the tension, but before you could speak, Dan Heng's protective posture remained firm.

“I’m not playing games,” he replied pointedly, the resolve in his voice silencing any further remarks. There was a sense of finality in his words, as if a barrier had been erected between you, your friend, and whatever innocent banter had remained.

Eventually, Dan Heng stepped back slightly, allowing the air to breathe between you and your friend, though the protective energy he emitted still lingered. “Let’s not ruin this session,” he said, softening his tone just enough to bring a semblance of normalcy back to the atmosphere. Yet, his gaze remained fixed on you, as if to remind you both that the connection you shared was something deep and profound. "Forgive me, Sweetheart."

You smiled softly, the corners of your lips lifting slightly as you waved a hand dismissively, hoping to ease any lingering tension in the air. "It's okay," you said gently, your voice warm yet firm. "I trust your judgment on this matter. It was likely a misunderstanding on my part for not being clear that I'm in a committed relationship." Dan Heng understood that it wasn't your fault; you had made it quite clear that you were in love with him. Ultimately, it was your friend who crossed the boundary. His gaze narrowing once again at the thought alone.

You turned to your friend, meeting their gaze. Uncertainty flickered behind their confident facade as their playful smirk transformed into a knowing look, one that spoke volumes about the new shift in dynamics. You could see the wheels turning in their mind, weighing your connection with Dan Heng against your longstanding friendship.

As the training session resumed, the earlier energy began to return, but it felt different now—charged with a newfound understanding. With Dan Heng by your side, you felt a sense of intimacy and protection, emboldened by the kiss and his assertiveness. The playful sparring with your friends continued, but now you noticed how Dan Heng stayed close, his presence a gentle reminder that while camaraderie and laughter could easily flow, boundaries had been established, and there was no going back.

Dan Heng | .8k word count

The Astral Express swayed gently through the vast cosmos, its rhythmic hum offering a comforting backdrop to the twinkling stars outside the panoramic windows. In one of the cozy lounge areas, you were engaged in lively conversation with an old friend who had recently boarded for a visit. His laughter danced through the air as he leaned casually against the wall, attempting to mimic Dan Heng’s serene demeanor but failing to mask the unmistakable admiration shining in his eyes. An uncomfortable realization bubbled within him; he couldn’t stand the thought of another man looking at you with such reverence, reading too much into every shared glance.

A few paces away, Dan Heng stood with his arms crossed, his sharp gaze flicking between you and your friend. He observed the interaction with a mix of curiosity and barely concealed irritation. While he was usually content to grant you the space you often needed, the way your friend emulated his calmness—accentuating each idiosyncrasy with exaggerated playfulness—sparking a rare stir of jealousy within him. The sound of your sweet laughter wafted towards him, a sound he adored, yet as it echoed in his ears, he felt a growing unease; it seemed tethered to the trivial antics of your friend, even mocking in its underlying tone.

“Come on, you remember that mission we did back on Jarilo-VI? It was legendary! You were unstoppable back then—like a whirlwind, effortlessly taking down those mara-stuck. I like to think I held my own, supporting you all the way,” your friend exclaimed, flashing a confident smirk meant to impress you. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, tossing his hair back as if trying to project an aura of nonchalance, desperately hoping to draw your attention.

Dan Heng’s expression tightened, a flicker of annoyance gleaming in his eyes as he narrowed them slightly. He stepped forward, an instinctual protective gesture, placing a firm hand on the small of your back—a silent reminder of his presence and his unwavering connection to you.

“Really, that’s enough,” he said, his voice steady yet laced with an underlying intensity. It wasn’t a shout, but the authority in his tone shifted the playful atmosphere. Your friend's laughter faltered, the lightheartedness draining away as he registered the brewing tension.

“Hey, I was just—” your friend began, feigning innocence, but the sharpness of Dan Heng’s gaze, unyielding and resolute, effectively silenced him. There was something almost palpable in the air; Dan Heng wasn’t angry, but the clarity in his demeanor left no room for misunderstanding—he was done playing games.

The warmth radiating from him enveloped you, a steady force that cut through the earlier jovial banter. When his gaze returned to you, it softened, worry etched into the lines of his expression as he checked to make sure you felt safe amidst the brewing drama. For a fleeting moment, the surrounding world faded, leaving only the two of you at the epicenter of a quiet storm.

“Are you okay?” he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so that only you could hear. His concern felt genuine, as if he wanted to shield you from any chaos that could disturb your peace.

Swallowing hard, you nodded, struggling to articulate the weight of gratitude settling in your throat. His steadfast presence made you feel secure, how he stood there—an unyielding fortress against the noise and chaos of the moment. It struck you how deeply Dan Heng cared, driven perhaps by a surge of jealousy as he recognized that another man dared to bring a smile to your face. But he was the one who truly respected you, the one you felt safest with.

“Looks like I’ve overstayed my welcome,” your friend finally muttered, attempting to ease the palpable tension with a half-hearted laugh that fell flat. Shifting uncomfortably, he glanced toward the door, clearly wishing to escape the palpable discomfort. “I’ll just… go grab some drinks.”

“Good idea,” Dan Heng replied, his tone still measured but tinged with the unmistakable edge of dismissal. Your friend nodded, muttering something inaudible under his breath, before hastily retreating through the door.

As the door clicked shut, a deep silence settled over the room, a thick heaviness that loomed in the air. Turning back to Dan Heng, you saw him exhale slowly, his rigid posture relaxing ever so slightly. “I don’t want anyone making you feel uncomfortable,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “You deserve to enjoy yourself without worrying about anyone else encroaching on your space.”

In that small space between you, the air sparkled with unspoken understanding, and a gentle current of connection flowed between you, knitting your hearts closer together in the aftermath of the disruption.

Veritas Ratio, Panta Rhei | 0.7k word count

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting a soft golden hue over the bustling plaza while illuminating the myriad of faces animated by spirited conversation. Dr. Veritas Ratio leaned against a polished marble column, its cool surface contrasting with the warmth of the evening air. His keen, observant eyes scanned the crowd, a mixture of amusement and annoyance etched into his features. He had envisioned a peaceful evening with you, nestled in thoughtful dialogue, but there you stood—a beacon of warmth—engaged in lively conversation with another scholar who seemed far too eager to capture your attention.

Ratio’s forehead furrowed slightly as he observed the way the other scholar leaned in, their laughter flows like a playful fountain, filling the air with a false sense of camaraderie. It wasn’t the exchange itself that disturbed him; rather, it was the fluidity with which it flowed, the way you appeared genuinely captivated by their words, despite the clearer reality unfolding before him. He knew you were astute enough to see through the pretentious facade, yet his heart sank at the thought of your kindness being wasted on someone so clearly posturing in an attempt to sound intellectually profound, rather than embracing the earnestness of genuine inquiry. Underneath the calm exterior, a flicker of jealousy ignited, a mere shadow beneath his otherwise composed demeanor.

A deep breath steadied him as he rolled a dry retort around in his mind, teetering on the edge of interruption. Instead of bursting onto the scene with his usual authoritative presence, he chose to observe the dynamic unfolding before him just a moment longer. A subtle amusement played at the corners of his mouth as he watched the other scholar’s poorly strung illusion of intellect falter with every exaggerated claim. Yet within him stirred a protective urge, a desire to safeguard the truth—not just for himself, but for you, the one he cherished.

Finally, Ratio pushed himself off the column with deliberate ease, gliding closer, his presence both unyielding yet composed. As he approached, he caught the tail end of the scholar's exaggerated proclamations, punctuated with wild gestures that seemed more theatrical than academic. It was indeed time to reclaim the moment.

With a casual, almost teasing inflection, he interjected, “Fascinating. And yet, entirely incorrect.” His voice cut through the cacophony of chatter with precision, drawing both you and the bewildered scholar’s startled gazes toward him. There was no need for raised voices; his confidence enveloped the space, asserting dominance with subtle grace.

You blinked in surprise, your eyes lighting up with recognition, a radiant smile breaking across your face that chased away the lingering tension. “Oh, Veritas! I was just—”

He raised a hand, silencing your words as he locked his gaze onto the flustered scholar, the corners of his mouth curving into a slightly amused smile. “You’ve posited a theory that overlooks the foundational principles entirely,” he continued, a playful condescension dripping from his words. “Engaging in ideation is one thing; understanding the underlying mechanics is another entirely.” With a flourish of intellectual prowess, he deftly commandeered the conversation, weaving his knowledge into the narrative.

Ratio’s focus shifted back to you, his expression softening as he paid no further heed to the novice scholar, who was now visibly deflated. “Shall we continue our discussion?” he asked, his voice lowering to something intimate and inviting. “I’d much rather hear your insights,” he encouraged, drawing you back into the cocoon of connection the two of you shared.

As the other scholar retreated, the sound of their mingled laughter faded into the ambient buzz of the plaza, replaced by the sweeter cadence of your shared voices. Ratio felt a flicker of satisfaction blossom within him—not from shunning the fool, but from reclaiming the sacred space between you with such effortless ease. You leaned into him, your laughter resonating like a sweet melody that made his heart flutter once more, knowing he had drawn you back from the clutches of superficiality. In that moment of quiet understanding, he realized that you, too, saw through the charade, and that realization filled him with profound contentment. All that mattered was the truth you both cherished.

Boothill, Dusty Trail's Lone Star | .9k word count

The saloon was alive with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses, the air thick with the aroma of whiskey mingling with the dust from the wooden floor. The atmosphere hummed with energy, illuminated by flickering lanterns that cast dancing shadows on the rough-hewn walls. Boothill leaned casually against the bar, his well-worn hat tipped low over his brow, obscuring the intensity of his keen gaze. He watched closely as his darlin', you, animatedly chatted with a tall stranger at the far end of the bar. The man had a charming smile and an inviting demeanor, leaning in just a fraction too close, sharing a drawl that was almost identical to Boothill's own. It unsettled him, how the stranger’s mannerisms mirrored his with such precision, almost as if he were a shadow trying to ensnare you in a web of false familiarity—a fraud.

Despite the upbeat atmosphere, tension simmered within Boothill. He sipped his drink, the ice clinking against the glass as his smirk faltered, replaced by a deep furrow of discontent upon seeing the friend’s hand linger too close to your waist. You instinctively shifted away, but the man failed to grasp the clear message you sent. Boothill's grip on his glass tightened involuntarily, the ice rattling ominously as he fought to rein in his irritation.

You laughed, your face radiant under the warm glow of the saloon lights, illuminating your features with a playful sun-kissed hue. But for Boothill, it was complicated; his heart raced with an almost primal urge to possess you, an urge that creeped over him like a swift shadow. He shifted his weight, straightening up, as if adjusting his stance could project his authority. Moving gradually toward you, he pretended to look at something on the bar counter, but his eyes remained locked on you, a fierce protective energy simmering within. While he genuinely wanted you to be happy, he could not allow someone masquerading as himself to so easily reach for your laughter. It was far too dangerous, and the possibility of losing you gnawed at him relentlessly. He trusted you deeply, he really did, yet that innate fear lingered like a specter from his past—the memory of having lost not just a home, but a sense of self.

As the stranger leaned in further, encroaching upon your space, Boothill’s patience thinned. With a deliberate and confident stride, he approached, an easy grin unfurling across his lips as he flashed his sharp, white teeth—which concealed an undercurrent of unspoken menace. Sidling up beside you, he placed a hand lightly on your back; the touch was both possessive and playful, imbued with an undeniable intimacy. “Hope I’m not interruptin’ anything,” he drawled, his voice smooth yet threaded with a hint of challenge, making it clear he was staking his claim.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your face lighting up at the sight of him like the dawn breaking over a shadowed landscape. “Boothill! Come join us!” you exclaimed, your excitement radiant and genuine.

Boothill tipped his hat up slightly, allowing a glimmer of mischief to spark in his eyes, masking the agitation that churned beneath the surface. With a quick, predatory glare directed at your so-called friend, his smile morphed into a knowing smirk, signaling a swift change in the dynamics. “Looks like you’re keepin’ my partner entertained. Don’t mind me,” he said, his tone woven with both invitation and warning, an unspoken clarification—he wouldn’t be sidelined.

The friend hesitated, the shift in the atmosphere palpable, as he instinctively backed off. The confidence that had fueled him moments earlier evaporated, leaving behind only a faint semblance of that facade he wielded. It was amusing, Boothill thought grimly, how easily someone could lose their bravado when faced with a clear threat. Taking full advantage of the moment, Boothill smoothly lifted his hat off his head and playfully placed it upon yours—a move laced with both intimacy and claim. “Looks better on you,” he murmured, his voice low and just for your ears.

You laughed, fully aware of the subtle power play, yet choosing to remain quiet, caught in the electric energy of the moment. Boothill maintained a posture that demanded acknowledgment; he was a man renowned for his escapades and threats, an outlaw who had evaded the IPC for far too long. Very few dared to test him, and the audacity of this stranger trying to play his hand in attempting to whisk you away was something he simply wouldn’t allow. His gaze remained fixed on the table where the man had been seated, his playful grin fading into a hard stare that conveyed the depths of his territorial instincts, a tension almost tangible in the air. His hand twitched involuntarily, itching to reach towards the holster strapped to his hip.

The air pulsed with an unspoken challenge, a silent battle of wills cascading between Boothill and the unfortunate interloper. He kept a meticulous watch as the man seized the opportunity to retreat, the spark of interest in you extinguished under the weight of Boothill’s unwavering presence. When the coward finally backed away, Boothill’s demeanor softened ever so slightly, the storm within him calming—but not entirely.

Turning to you, he allowed a genuine smile to reemerge, his jealousy artfully cloaked beneath layers of charm as he refocused all his attention solely on you. “What were you two talkin’ about that had you roarin'?” he asked, his tone playful yet protectively edged. The underlying message still resonated clearly in the space between you: you were his, and he intended to keep it that way. "C'mon, Sugar. I'm more than capable of makin' you grace this fudgin' saloon with such sweet laughter on my own."

A/N: Writing jealousy is complex, tough to make it more than just a protective instinct. I didn't wish to make the reader oblivious, nor did I wish for them to be entirely comfortable with the actions of their friend here. I got ahead of myself and may have written something a little different, hope you enjoy either way! I'll write proper jealousy hc's at some point if needed.

[hrtwve]

dissociate ౨ৎ

౨ৎ about ─── you died moons ago. now, you sit, running your hands through viktor's hair as stars pass around you.

or: viktor shares bad news. (viktor x gn! reader)

౨ৎ cw ─── angst heavy, mentions of death, physical intimacy (mwah), sexual implications if you squint.

author notes can be found at the end of each fanfiction ⟡ ⋆˚

(total w.c 1.2k)

₊˚⊹ ───

Light fragments fall from elsewhere, drawing bodies closer to the centre of existence; crystals, broken, dance. There is blinding, piercing, light balanced by dark which exudes everywhere. Memories faded from view, burning through the mind in a supernova crashing across space; memories of life now gone. The echoes of past drift through this place, cascading down in waterfalls of rainbow and pooling through the air. The ground is hollow, the sky pure. Stars glitter the lining of the horizon and burn through forms, hands and heads barely visible in the glow. Glorious technicolour spins, raining o'er static objects.

Your fingers run their steady hand through his soft hair, the sensation quite real, nerve impulses binding to the shape of a caress to maintain response. Yet your nerves were no more, shattered by the mere mention of nightmare, the very core that pulled you, strangled you, straight through its heart. Your nails find his scalp, tickling his head before returning to the soft mass of glittering fibre. A low hum sounds from his parted lips, head lolled onto its side, comfortably situated in your lap. His weight is light, his cheek locking into your leg like a lost piece of a forgotten puzzle. His shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh, a break in his thoughts, a signal. Your hand continues its journey.

"I do not wish to alarm you." His voice barely below a whisper, accent dripping from his tongue, bleeds into the air. His hands are lulled, placed adjacent to his face, hair is messy against your form as it flows beautifully, rivers of white drooping along high cheekbones. He sighs yet again, the pause in his continuation a clear sign of heavy heart. You almost wonder if he will complete the statement, stomach-turning in noughts from your quick worry, although your hands still find themselves absentmindedly stroking curls. "But," Another beat. "I feel I am slowly... decaying."

You half expect him to turn, to face your wide eyes as tears threaten to fall. Yet he reclines, stagnant, like a memory frozen in time. Body glittering with the strength of a thousand suns, he lays, surrounded by the blanketed mist of beams. The light, a sacred entity to this space, without it ─ oblivion. A single droplet topples down your cheek, rushing a translucent tear behind. Salted water splashing against the high bones in his face, dissipating into nothing when it lands. He stirs, your hand moving to accommodate the new position of his head, brushing soothing patterns into his hairline. Glittering gold eyes meet wandering stare, weeping, tearful, and a furrow appears in between the folds of his brow.

"Don't shed tears for a man predestined for a premature death." He mutters, taking one of his striking hands, colours drifting through the transparent skin, and placing his fingertips against your jaw. The friction barely scratches the surface, nails briefly leaving their mark on your star-clustered skin. Soft, gentle, his features dance across his face in haze covered glow, affection dripping from the droop of his eye, the parting of his lip.

Nature strikes another good soul from its pedestal, although he was always given fewer opportunities than the others. From childhood, born different, odd. Youth prejudice is born as maturity arrives, resulting in isolation from those he loved most. Outcast, he found solace in intimacy within his own soul, introverted, shy; but not helpless. Until compassion forgave his innocent mind, blessing him an angel. Childhood love blooms into bouquet in adulthood; intimacy beckoning from a hollow wound of loneliness. Your fingers tangling in accidental hallway bumps, resulting in longing glances; picturing the coming hours when dusk had finally settled. Souls intertwined, abandonment could not be pondered. Galaxies withheld your love, your passion, you would dissipate as he did.

"I feel I must." You breathe, highlights dancing through your dreams, floating on a cloud of affection. Reaching higher, his calloused fingers cup your cheek, rubbing slow circles into your skin. Time ticks on like a slow heartbeat, the wave of love bleeding through the atmosphere in tidal fashion. "I care for you so, Viktor."

The comment alerts him, frightens him, from his familiar position. He changes his nature as he rises, straightening himself away from your grasp. You twist, finding solace in his gaze, a soft expression momentarily dances before a serious brow plays upon his features. Shards of stardust play against his cheek, colours dancing through his locks, brushing down the sides of his face. Respect twangs upon your heart strings, like a bard on a lyre — he looks, feels, dream-like. The sensation of fingertips caresses your skin like nothing before, warming your soul in the colours of amber. In his movements, he brings your faces together, kissing your foreheads, embracing minds into one.

"Do not fret." The words pour like honey, yet they still lay heavy on your already breaking heart. You find your hands climbing, losing themselves in his already messy hair. Your breaths mingle, if it were temperate you would feel the air leave and form clouds between your bodies. "This was always meant to be," He pauses, pulling his head back to stare into your eyes, yet never removing his hands from their position. "Surely you were aware?"

A recollection of suffering plaques your downtrodden mind, swimming through pools of sorrow and lapping in an ocean of despair. Your attempt to strangle the siren's call ultimately resulted in failure, the depressing truth now set out before you; anticipation returning as dred. You envisioned his passing, decaying from the mortal domain, returning to the cosmos of wence he came; materialised in the stars above. Yet this place was neither Heaven or Hell, and both parties would be banished in future; you weren't aware of how soon this future would be.

"I was." You breathe, tickling your fingers up his sideburn and into his platinum hair, tugging in a quick sign of affection. Catching a strand in between your digits, you twirl the curl through and allow it to spring back, meeting its maker. Although your tears have left their parting gift, your chest tightens with sorrow, becoming increasingly agonising and bubbling deep within your throat. A choke escapes your throat, "I was not quite aware of the immediate action."

His eyes dare part for yours as the words fall from your whisper, blowing into his psyche, toppling his confidence. In this moment you are forever, timeless, stuck in an everlasting loop of forgiveness and pain. He pulls you towards him once more, connecting your bodies in a state of pure bliss, lips brushing yours in a delicate kiss. His hands roam, traversing the back of your head like buried treasure, padding their way across the skin lying there. You press a quick sound into his lips, but it is quickly lost in the entanglement of both body and mind. Your fingertips dance against his cheekbones, forgetting, only for an instant, that you were lost to your mortal frame. He retreats for a moment, tucking a solitary strand behind your ear into its rightful place.

"For now, my love, I shall remain," He whispers, so low that the cosmos could bearly apprehend, placing a solitary kiss on the tip of your nose, and wrapping your body closer to his chest. Blossomed warmth fills your once hollow chest, an urge to believe in the present.

₊˚⊹ ───

i hope you enjoyed my first offical post!. i really adore the shots within season 2 picturing viktor, jayce, or sky in the beautiful galaxy space, where their features (save face and hands) are glowing white; it's just so breathtaking. as you can probably tell, my love for those moments brought me to writing this short piece! i must say this is shorter than i am used to writing, but think of it as a short piece to get me back into the swing of things... anyway i love you so much for making it this far mwah! x

[callmemonster68]

tears of a pretty boy | p.sh - sunghoon

Sunghoon: No... no... ( he shook his head, the submission clear in every word ) You can do whatever you want with me. I am your toy... only yours...

Challenge: Tied secret-moonstruck & callmemonster68

paring: sub!sunghoon x fem!reader 18+ | masterlist

wc: 5,640

warnings: nsfw content, crying, bloond/injuries, unprotected sex, swearing, rough sex, bruises, handcuffs, chains, sadomasochism , masochism

In the center of a colossal room, enveloped in an almost palpable silence, stands a peculiar structure: a perfectly square glass room. Its translucent walls reflect the soft lights coming from high, cold chandeliers, creating a play of glimmers that is almost hypnotizing. Inside, a minimalist and unsettling environment: a single chair is positioned exactly in the center, with a simple mattress spread on the floor beside it, and a small table next to the chair, as if waiting for some undefined purpose.

Outside, the larger room is arranged like a modern amphitheater, with several chairs meticulously organized around the glass structure. They offer a panoramic view of whatever happens inside, transforming the space into a stage where voyeurism and curiosity coexist. The environment seems to carry an invisible tension, as if the very air were waiting to be filled by some imminent and extraordinary event.

The contrast between the isolation of the glass room and the proximity of the audience creates an atmosphere of expectation — a combination of vulnerability and exposure that seems almost ritualistic.

When all the chairs around the glass room were occupied and the murmur of the audience turned into a tense silence, Y/N and Sunghoon entered the room. Their footsteps echoed in the spacious environment, creating an almost theatrical contrast with the muffled sound of their breaths. They crossed the main room with the confidence of protagonists in a well-rehearsed play, until they reached the glass structure. As soon as they entered, the tension in the air seemed almost palpable.

Sunghoon was completely naked, his skin softly reflecting the still-lit lights, like a pure canvas waiting for something. Y/N, on the other hand, exuded an aura of power and mystery, wrapped in delicate and provocative black lingerie, with lace that suggested more than it revealed. The combination between the two was breathtaking, almost as if the entire room held its breath in unison.

So, the lights went out.

In the absolute darkness, time seemed suspended. Only the low murmurs and the heavy breathing of some audience members filled the void. Seconds later, the lights returned, this time with a warmer and more intimate tone, bathing the glass room in a golden light.

There was Sunghoon.

Completely naked, but now tied up. His impeccable body was wrapped in red silk ropes that seemed hand-painted against his fair skin. The bindings were not simple; they were an intricate work of art, perfectly positioned lines creating geometric patterns that outlined and highlighted every curve, every muscle, with almost cruel precision. The broad chest was adorned with lines that descended to his slender waist, where the delicately tightened knots appeared both firm and sensual. The ropes followed down his strong thighs, embracing them as if they were made for him, exposing him in a way that transformed him into an irresistible sight.

His arms were raised, held above his head and firmly tied to a ring in the ceiling. Each knot had been made with care and precision, not just to restrain, but to highlight the perfection of his form. He was a celestial vision — the epitome of surrender. His tousled hair fell charmingly over his forehead, while the sheen of sweat began to appear on his flawless skin. The movement of his chest, rising and falling in a steady rhythm, revealed a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

Next to him, Y/N exuded absolute control. Her gaze swept over Sunghoon's body as if she were the artist herself evaluating her masterpiece. For her, it was not just a spectacle for others, but a moment of mastery and connection between them. The audience, hypnotized, did not dare even to blink, fearing they might miss any detail of the scene.

And so, the show began.

Y/N watched him, each of his movements amplifying the power she felt in that moment. He was there, handsome, devoted, waiting for her orders. That's how she liked it. That's how it should be.

Y/N: You look divine like this. (she said, breaking the silence, her voice low and laden with authority)

He tried to respond, but the gag strapped to his mouth muffled any words. Only a hoarse moan escaped, laden with need. Y/N raised an eyebrow, a satisfied smile curving their lips.

Y/N: Ah, so obedient... (She walked around him, the heels clicking on the wooden floor, each step meticulously calculated to heighten the suspense) But so... desperate.

With a firm gesture, she slid the tips of her fingers over his shoulder, slowly descending to his chest, feeling the muscles contract under her touch. He was perfect — too perfect to be in her hands. And that was exactly what excited her: he, the most beautiful man she had ever seen, begging for her.

Y/N: Do you know what I love most about nights like this? ( she asked, leaning in to whisper in his ear ) Making handsome boys like you cry.

A shiver ran through his body, and she smiled, satisfied. Taking the thin leather whip that rested on the table, she slid the tip across his torso, teasing his skin before delivering a light strike to the side of his thigh. The sound cut through the silence, followed by a muffled groan.

Y/N: You liked that, didn't you? (she took a step back, assessing his reaction)

He fought against the ropes, but not to escape — it was the opposite. He wanted more.

Y/N: I'm going to ask only once, (she said, holding his chin and tilting his face up) Who do you belong to?

He groaned against the gag, his eyes desperate. Y/N pulled the cloth from his mouth, allowing him to breathe but maintaining control. He took a deep breath, his voice hoarse and full of need.

Sunghoon: I am yours... only yours, (he murmured, with a broken voice) Please, ma'am... touch me. Touch me there... I need you.

Her smile widened, satisfied. He was broken — exactly as she wanted.

Y/N: Ah, my angel, (she teased, sliding her hand slowly down his waist, but stopping before reaching the place he begged for) Do you think you can tell me what to do?

Sunghoon: No... no... ( he shook his head, the submission clear in every word ) You can do whatever you want with me. I am your toy... only yours...

Y/N leaned in close, their lips almost touching his.

Y/N: You beg so well, did you know? I think I'm going to reward you... But only because I want to, not because you deserve it.

She finally gave in, her hand sliding to where he begged for attention. She touched his cock, initially the touch was delicate, soon becoming something rougher, gripping tightly. With one hand, she pumped his cock mercilessly, while the other hand stimulated his balls, squeezing them tightly. The muffled cry of pleasure that escaped him was enough to make her smile even more. His body trembled, the ropes tightening as he writhed, but she didn't stop. She knew exactly how to control each movement, each reaction of his.

When he finally reached climax, his body completely surrendered and panting, she released the ropes that bound his arms, letting him fall to his knees in front of her. He looked at her, exhausted, his eyes still shining with desire.

Sunghoon: You ruined me... (he murmured, his voice trembling) But I want more. I want you... always.

Y/N leaned in, holding his face gently, but firmly enough to show that she was still in control.

Y/N: You're asking for the impossible, my angel. Do you want me to be only yours?

He nodded quickly, the words coming out in a desperate whisper.

Sunghoon: Yes... be mine, please. I'll do whatever you want... Just be mine.

Y/N laughed softly, running their fingers through his hair.

Y/N: Let's see, my angel. If you keep behaving so well, maybe I'll consider your case.

Sunghoon was still on his knees, panting, his skin shining with the effort and pleasure she had inflicted. But his eyes remained fixed on Y/N, as if she were the only thing that existed in the world. He adored her in silence, his lips slightly parted in a mute plea.

Y/N, in turn, picked up a crystal glass that was on the small table next to the chair and took a small sip of the amber liquid inside it, her gaze never leaving his. She seemed completely in control, unattainable, while he fell apart before her.

Y/N: (with a calm voice, but full of authority) Do you know what I love most about you, Sunghoon? Your ability to give yourself completely. It's rare to find someone like that... so perfect, so moldable.

She placed the glass back on the table, her heels echoing through the room as she approached him. He lifted his head in an instinctive gesture, seeking any crumb of attention she was willing to offer.

Y/N: But I'm not done with you yet. (his fingers slid down his chin, forcing him to look directly into his eyes) You still haven't proven that you deserve what you're asking for.

Sunghoon: (with a hoarse voice, almost a moan) I will do anything... anything you want.

Y/N smiled, satisfied with the response. She gently pulled him by the chin, forcing him to stand up. He stood up, still vulnerable, with the marks of the ropes decorating his skin like a living work of art.

She walked to the chair in the center of the glass room and sat down, crossing her legs slowly while her eyes assessed Sunghoon from head to toe.

Y/N: On your knees. Here.

Without hesitation, he obeyed, crawling to her and kneeling between her legs. He was surrendered, completely at her mercy, but Y/N still wanted more. She wanted him to prove, in front of everyone, that he belonged to her.

Y/N: Now... show the audience who you are. Show them how much you belong to me.

The words were a command, a promise, and he knew in that moment that he would do exactly what she asked. Slowly, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the delicate skin of her leg, as his devotion to her overflowed in every gesture.

The audience, until then silent, let out a low murmur, as if they were witnessing something forbidden, something so intimate that it was impossible to look away. Y/N merely observed, absolute control reflected in their eyes, while Sunghoon moved with a mixture of desire and reverence.

Y/N's eyes were fixed on Sunghoon, their expression a mix of pleasure and absolute control. He was climbing slowly, making his devotion clear in every gesture, in every touch of his lips. His tongue traced delicate patterns on her skin, climbing up her legs until it reached her knees, where he paused to place long kisses, as if he wanted to memorize every detail.

When he reached her thighs, the rhythm of his breathing became heavier. He alternated between kisses and small bites, the perfect mix of adoration and raw desire. Each touch seemed to beg for more, but Sunghoon was careful, controlled, as if he wanted to prolong the moment as much as possible.

And then he stopped.

His face was now before her intimacy, covered only by the thin layer of black lingerie that was already visibly damp. He lifted his eyes, meeting hers with a gaze that overflowed with need and surrender. His lips were slightly parted, and his warm breath made the fabric move gently, like an unintentional provocation.

Y/N's eyes sparkled, satisfied. She leaned slightly, holding his face with a gentle firmness.

Y/N: (with a provocative smile) Look at me, Sunghoon. You know what to do.

He nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact. Then, with the tip of his tongue, he traced a path along the fine fabric, savoring each second as if it were a privilege. He moved with precision, his face pressing against the lingerie in a way that drew a soft sigh from her.

The audience was in a trance, unable to take their eyes off the scene. It was like watching a ritual, a dance where each movement had a purpose, each gesture an intention.

Y/N leaned back in the chair, a satisfied smile curving their lips.

Y/N: Good boy. (she murmured, running her fingers through his hair) Keep it up, and who knows... maybe I'll let you get closer than you want.

Sunghoon remained there, kneeling, his eyes fixed on the black lingerie that covered Y/N's intimacy. Each of his movements was a demonstration of absolute devotion, but he knew he could do more. He wanted to please her, he wanted to see her react, he wanted to give her everything.

With care, his hands moved up her legs, the tips of his fingers brushing her skin in a caress that seemed almost like a plea. He hesitated for a moment, raising his gaze to Y/N as if asking for permission.

Y/N: (with a soft and provocative smile) Do you want to undress me, my angel?

He nodded quickly, his voice coming out hoarse with desire:

Sunghoon: Please... let me touch you.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, satisfied with his submission. She leaned slightly forward, resting her arms on the chair, and whispered:

Y/N: Go ahead, then. Show me how much you want me.

With trembling but careful hands, Sunghoon began to slide his fingers over the fabric of the lingerie, exploring the fine texture as he moved up to her shoulders. He found the delicate straps and pulled them slowly, as if each revealed centimeter were an experience to be savored.

The fabric descended slowly, exposing Y/N's shoulders and collarbone, and the audience, still in almost absolute silence, held their breath. Her skin, illuminated by the golden light filling the glass room, seemed to glow. Sunghoon could barely contain the admiration in his gaze.

When the lingerie slipped completely, leaving Y/N's body fully exposed, he paused for a moment. His eyes scanned every detail, as if he were contemplating a masterpiece.

Y/N: (in an authoritative yet sweet tone) Sunghoon, don't just stand there looking. Show me what you're capable of.

Those words were all he needed to hear. He leaned forward, his lips finding the curve of her neck as his hands explored her body with a mixture of adoration and desire. He kissed, licked, and gently nibbled, slowly descending down her body. Each touch, each movement felt like a dance, meticulously rehearsed to please her.

When his lips reached the curve of her breasts, he stopped, looking up as if asking for permission again.

Y/N: (smirking) You know what to do, my angel. Don't let me down.

He didn't need any more encouragement. His mouth captured one of her nipples gently, his tongue working to provoke reactions he knew she wanted to feel. His other hand caressed the other breast, alternating between gentle touches and firm pressure, as he dedicated himself entirely to pleasing her.

The audience watched in silent ecstasy, completely hypnotized by the intense and raw connection between the two. Y/N, for their part, allowed themselves to relax, closing their eyes for a brief moment and letting out a satisfied sigh.

Y/N: You are learning quickly, my angel...

But she knew she could still demand more. After all, he was there to serve her, and she wasn't in a hurry.

Sunghoon's movements were guided by an intense desire, but also by a devoted obedience. He knew that every action of his had to be perfect to satisfy Y/N. After spending enough time worshipping her breasts, he began to descend down her body, distributing kisses and gentle bites along her abdomen.

Y/N watched him from above, her eyes half-closed, evaluating every gesture. She knew he was doing exactly what she wanted, but that didn't mean she couldn't provoke him even more.

Y/N: (in a calm tone, but laden with authority) Don't be shy, my angel. Go deeper. I want to see how much you are really willing to give yourself.

Sunghoon looked up, meeting her eyes. He knew exactly what she wanted, but he wanted to make sure he was pleasing her in the process. Slowly, he slid his hands to her hips, holding her firmly before leaning his face even lower.

His lips finally reached the intimacy of Y/N. He hesitated for a moment, not out of lack of desire, but because he wanted to savor that moment. So, without further ado, he began to kiss her right there, first gently, then with more intensity, as if he wanted to devour every reaction of hers.

Y/N let out a deep sigh, leaning her head back and gripping the arms of the chair. A satisfied smile curved her lips as she felt Sunghoon's tongue exploring every inch of her, alternating between gentle and bold movements.

Y/N: (slightly arching) That's... just like that, my angel. Show the audience how dedicated you are.

The sound of Y/N's heavy breathing mingled with the murmurs of the audience, who remained completely hypnotized by the scene. Sunghoon intensified his movements, his tongue exploring every part of her with mastery, while his firm hands held her hips in place.

Y/N, feeling completely in control, looked down, meeting his gaze. The eye contact was enough to make him work even harder. She knew how much he wanted to please her, and she was willing to reward him... eventually.

Y/N: (in a teasing tone) You're doing well, my angel, but I want to hear you beg again.

He turned his face away for a moment, his lips glistening with her moisture. His breath was heavy, and he could barely form words.

Sunghoon: (breathless) Please... ma'am, let me continue. I want to give you everything... I want to see you lose control because of me.

Y/N smiled, satisfied with his submission. She slid her fingers through Sunghoon's tousled hair, holding it firmly before gently pulling him back, leaving him vulnerable and exposed once again.

Y/N: You're trying hard... but I want more. I want to see you completely broken by me.

She pushed him lightly, indicating that he should lie on the floor. Without hesitation, Sunghoon obeyed, positioning himself on his back on the mattress. His body was tense, but the expression in his eyes was one of pure submission.

Y/N slowly rose from the chair, walking towards him with calculated steps, the heels echoing on the glass. She stopped beside him, looking at the perfect body stretched out before her.

Y/N: Now... it's my turn to play.

She knelt over him, positioning herself under his cock. Without haste, she began to move, her nails lightly scratching his chest, provoking shivers as she explored every line and curve of his body.

Y/N: (with a mischievous smile) Tell me, my angel... what would you do to please me even more?

Sunghoon: (whispering, with eyes shining with desire) Everything, ma'am. Anything you want... I am yours.

The audience watched in reverent silence, almost as if they were witnessing a divine spectacle.

Y/N leaned in to kiss him, their lips touching his with firmness and authority. The kiss was not just a demonstration of desire, but of control — a reminder that, in that moment, he was completely hers.

Y/N: (whispering against his lips)So, show me.

Y/N looked at him with a mischievous smile as Sunghoon's body trembled with anticipation beneath hers. He was such a perfect sight: lying there, vulnerable, completely surrendered to her control. But Y/N wanted more. She wanted to push him beyond any limit, to test how far he was willing to go to please her.

Y/N: (in a low and authoritative tone) You said you would do anything for me, didn't you, my angel?

Sunghoon: (breathless, with his eyes fixed on her) Yes, ma'am. Anything...

Without warning, Y/N moved their hand to his neck, initially wrapping it gently before squeezing firmly. The gesture made his body arch slightly under hers, a low moan escaping from his breathless lips. She leaned over him, her lips almost touching his, while her hand remained firm on his neck.

Y/N: (whispering) I want you to feel every part of me, Sunghoon. I want you to know that your breath, your surrender, your pleasure... everything depends on me.

He tried to respond, but the grip on his neck turned his words into a hoarse groan. His eyes were glazed, not out of fear, but pure submission. He loved it — the feeling of being completely under her control.

Y/N maintained the pressure on his neck while their other hand traveled down his chest, their nails scratching his skin with enough force to leave red marks. Sunghoon gasped, his chest rising and falling in a frantic rhythm, while his body reacted to the pleasure mixed with pain.

Y/N: (laughing softly) So beautiful when you're on the brink of despair…

Without warning, she raised her free hand and delivered a firm slap to his face. The sound echoed through the glass room, causing some low murmurs to emerge from the audience, completely fascinated. His face turned with the impact, but he did not protest. On the contrary, the moan that escaped his lips indicated how much he had enjoyed it.

Y/N: (raising an eyebrow) Did you like that, my angel?

Sunghoon: (breathless) Yes, ma'am... Please... more…

Y/N smiled dangerously. She loved seeing how he melted under her touch, how he begged for more, even knowing that she could be even more cruel.

She delivered another slap, this time on the other cheek, the intensity slightly greater. His face flushed instantly, and his eyes were even brighter with desire. Y/N continued, alternating between teasing slaps and firmer ones, each strike followed by Sunghoon's moans, who seemed to sink even deeper into his devotion.

Y/N: (teasing) You like this, don't you? Of being my little toy.

Sunghoon: (with a trembling voice) Yes... I am yours, ma'am… do whatever you want with me...

She tightened her grip on his neck again, leaning in to kiss his jaw, nibbling on his skin with a mix of provocation and control. Sunghoon's breath became even heavier, his moans interrupted by the lack of air, as the pleasure intensified.

Y/N: (in a serious tone) I want the audience to see how perfect you are for me. I want them to know that you are mine — that every part of you belongs to me.

She released his neck for a moment, allowing him to take a deep breath, only to then deliver a firm slap to his chest. Sunghoon arched his back, a deep moan escaping his throat.

Y/N: (smirking mischievously) Keep begging, my angel. I want to hear how much you desire me.

Sunghoon: (completely devoted) Ma'am… I need you... please, touch me... use me... do whatever you want with me. I just want to please you...

Y/N leaned over him, holding his face between her hands again, her eyes piercing his.

Y/N: You look so handsome when you beg like that... (she paused, sliding her fingers across his face) Keep it up, and maybe I'll reward you. But remember, my angel: your only function here is to satisfy me.

She held him firmly, keeping him trapped between pain and pleasure, knowing that he didn't want to be anywhere else. The audience was completely immersed, barely breathing as they watched the scene so intimate and charged with tension.

Y/N knew that Sunghoon was on the verge of losing control, but she was nowhere near done. For her, the true pleasure lay in pushing him beyond his limits, shaping him into her perfect submissive in front of everyone.

When she realized he was ready to release his load, she stood up. Y/N walked around him, the heels of her shoes echoing against the glass of the room. Sunghoon knelt again, trembling with anticipation. Each of her movements seemed calculated, designed to torture his mind and body. She stopped behind him, her fingers sliding down his neck, firmly gripping his hair.

Y/N: (in a low voice filled with authority) You're still hiding something from me, Sunghoon. You still haven't fully surrendered.

He shook his head desperately, the words coming out like a moan:

Sunghoon: No, ma'am... I am yours. I am here just for you…

Y/N pulled his hair hard, tilting his head back. He gasped, but did not complain, only offering his exposed throat to her, a silent act of submission.

Y/N: (laughing softly) Ah, you talk so well... but will your body keep up with what your mouth promises?

She let go of his hair, pushing him to the ground with a firm gesture. He fell on his back, looking at her with eyes full of adoration and anxiety. Y/N leaned over him, sitting firmly on his chest, her nails tracing a path as they slid over his exposed arms, leaving small scratches.

Y/N: I want to hear you scream, my angel. I want everyone here to know who owns your pleasure.

Sunghoon gasped, his body tense beneath hers. She began to slide her nails across his abdomen, each scratch more intense than the last, leaving red trails on his pale skin. He bit his lip to avoid a scream, but that only irritated her.

Y/N: (with a cruel smile) Ah, you think you can hold it? Let's fix that now.

She raised her hand and delivered another slap, this time right in the center of his abdomen. The impact made his body arch, a hoarse groan escaping his lips. Y/N let out a low laugh, appreciating the sound.

Y/N: (taunting) Is that all? Aren't you going to give me more?

Without waiting for a response, she slid down, gripping his thighs tightly and leaving marked bites on the sensitive flesh. Sunghoon screamed this time, his head throwing back as she marked every piece of him she desired.

Y/N climbed up again, pressing his neck with both hands. She didn't squeeze immediately; first, she made a point of observing his face, to see the exact moment when complete submission took over. When his eyes locked onto hers, filled with desire and obedience, she began to squeeze.

Sunghoon: (gasping) Ma'am... I...

She didn't let him finish.

Y/N: Silence. Only breathe when I allow it.

She squeezed and released in a meticulously calculated rhythm, controlling each of his sighs. Sunghoon's body trembled beneath her, but he didn't try to escape. On the contrary, he seemed to surrender even more, his bound hands unable to touch her, which only heightened his frustration and desire.

Y/N: (with a voice full of authority) You are mine, Sunghoon. You have no control. You have no choices. Every breath, every moan, every piece of you... belongs to me.

She suddenly released his neck, allowing him to take a deep breath, only to then deliver a hard slap to his face. The sound echoed in the room, and his body trembled with the impact.

Sunghoon: (whispering) Thank you, ma'am... more, please...

Y/N leaned in, gripping his chin tightly, their lips dangerously close to his.

Y/N: (in a low and threatening tone) You don't give me orders, understood? I decide when, where, and how you will be used.

He nodded frantically, his breath uneven. Y/N smiled, satisfied with his complete surrender.

Y/N: (with a mischievous smile) Good boy. Now... let's see how much more you can endure.

She went down again, this time biting harder, her nails digging into his skin as she pushed him to the limit. Sunghoon could no longer hold back the moans and screams, his body reacting to every touch and blow from her.

The audience watched, caught in a trance, unable to look away. The glass room had become a sanctuary of submission and control, and Y/N was the deity in absolute command.

Y/N stood up slowly, leaving Sunghoon lying on the floor, exhausted and still trembling under her gaze. With a satisfied smile, she walked over to the small table next to the chair. Her hands glided over various items laid out there, all previously chosen for the spectacle of that night. Her fingers finally stopped at a shiny metal plug with a black stone at the base, elegant and intimidating. She raised the object, displaying it to the audience before turning her attention back to Sunghoon.

Y/N: (with a voice full of authority) You want this, don't you? Do you want to feel how completely I control you?

Sunghoon swallowed hard, his breath quickening. He knew he had no choice, but still, his body longed for everything she gave him.

Sunghoon: Yes... ma'am. Please...

Y/N raised an eyebrow, walking back to him with the plug firmly in hand.

Y/N: Great. Of four. Now.

He obeyed immediately, positioning himself on his knees and hands, his body completely exposed and vulnerable to her and the watchful gaze of the audience. Y/N knelt behind him, running a firm hand over his waist, their touch simultaneously comforting and dominating.

Y/N: (whispering near his ear) So obedient... but I still want to see you beg.

With a small bottle of lubricant in hand, she applied a generous amount to the plug and slid her fingers over its entrance, teasingly. Sunghoon gasped, his hands trembling against the floor as his head hung forward.

Y/N: Come on, my angel. Ask. Show everyone how much you need me.

Sunghoon: Ma'am, please... please, take me. Do whatever you want with me... I am yours... only yours.

Satisfied, Y/N began to press the plug slowly, observing every reaction of his body. The audience held their breath as the object was finally inserted, the black stone shining under the soft light of the room. The low sound of approval that escaped from Sunghoon only intensified the control that Y/N felt.

Y/N: (stroking your back) Perfect. Now you are complete... my masterpiece.

She stood up again, looking down at him, completely dominated and adorned like a gift. With a satisfied smile, she pulled him by the hair, forcing him to lift his face to look at her.

Y/N: (firmly) Now, my angel, you are going to kneel here, in front of the audience, and show everyone what it means to belong to me.

Sunghoon obeyed, kneeling again, his breath ragged, his body still trembling, but the devotion in his eyes unwavering. Y/N walked around, stopping behind him. She slid the tip of a thin whip along his back, as if tracing every line of his skin, before delivering a firm strike. He groaned loudly, the sound echoing through the room.

Y/N: (whispering to him) Every mark I leave on you is a reminder... that you are mine.

Y/N: (getting even closer, with a low and controlled voice) It's time to prove your devotion, my angel. Show me how much you are mine.

She held him by the neck, tilting him back once again. The touch of her fingers was firm, authoritative, but also full of an intimacy that spoke beyond words. Sunghoon's body trembled with anticipation, but also with a deep desire to please her. He knew he was on the edge, but Y/N still had absolute control.

Y/N slid their hands over his body one last time, each movement calculated to amplify the already unbearable tension that burned between them. The audience held their breath, completely engrossed in the impending climax.

Y/N: (whispering with a smile of pure satisfaction) This... now, let go, my angel. Show me everything.

Sunghoon's body arched almost violently, every muscle contracted in an uncontrollable ecstasy. His breath came in ragged gasps, transforming into a deep, hoarse moan that reverberated throughout the room. The moment was intense, visceral, as if time had stopped to witness the connection between them.

Y/N watched him with a triumphant smile, her eyes shining with a mix of pleasure and power. When Sunghoon finally fell to his knees, exhausted and trembling, she approached, holding his face between her hands once again, this time with a tenderness that contrasted with her earlier authority.

Y/N: (whispering softly) You did well, my angel... so perfect.

Sunghoon raised his eyes to her, tears shining on his face as he struggled to catch his breath.

Sunghoon: (with a choked voice) Thank you... ma'am. Thank you for everything..

Y/N: (smiling gently, wiping a tear from his face) You gave me your all today, and that's exactly what I expected. You are my greatest gift.

He began to cry more intensely, a mix of relief, gratitude, and emotion taking over him. Y/N pulled him closer, holding him firmly in a rare gesture of comfort.

Y/N: (softly, almost like a secret) Remember, Sunghoon, you are mine... and I take care of what is mine.

She slid her hand along his jaw, holding him firmly while making him look directly into her eyes.

Y/N: This will never be enough. I will always demand more from you... because you are mine, and I will shape you exactly as I want.

She kissed him gently on the forehead before standing up, leaving him kneeling in the center of the room. The audience erupted in applause, still overwhelmed by the intensity of the performance, as Y/N walked with grace and confidence out of the room, like a queen leaving her throne...

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[wyvernest]

requested by @littlelilbun <3

cocoon cuddles

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: a little hurt! & comfort, a lot of fluff, miguel being extremely soft and affectionate, miguel speaking Spanish? the usual

summary: miguel comforts you after a very rough day

Truth be told, today was awful. The kind of day that makes your head swim in all the worst kinds of thoughts.

As you enter Miguel's mansion, you're quick to frown following the realisation of his absence. Another rough anomaly, you think. Just great.

You feel like a toddler that's been promised the most beautiful cake at the end of a tiring, horrible day only for the time to come with no cake. 

You've been looking forward to the comfort of his embrace all day long. Ever since you've received that terrible news, wasting all your mental energy simply by thinking about it and all the ways you could or could not fix your problems.

Entering the bedroom after an undeserved shower, you let yourself fall face first into the mattress, succumbing to your worries and seemingly irreparable issues. Frustration and dismay boiled in your chest, almost suffocating.

You don't know how long it's been until you hear the familiar loud thump on the tall windows of the first floor, no doubt another careful landing of Miguel's on the thick glass, followed by the ever so funny sound of his talons scratching into the rough outer walls of the house before pushing the translucent door open.

You gather all that's left of your power to jolt out of bed welcoming him with an aching yet open heart.

His firm footsteps climbing up the stairs quicken at the sound of your own, and before you know it, you are reunited.

"Siento llegar tarde. Te extrañé, mi vida." (I'm sorry I'm late, I missed you)

He extends his arms for you to jump into his embrace, but you're stunned. Your love for him suddenly explodes along with all the sadness that's filled your being all this time, and you break down. 

He's so sweet. Even when you're upset, he manages to cheer you up and take your mind off everything else with just a look and barely a few words.

Tears stain your cheeks as you approach him slowly with watery eyes, bumping your head face forward into his chest, arms cuddled tightly against him. Your gentle sobs are muffled into his suit, occasionally interrupted by sharp, quiet inhales.

"Bebita", He coos, affectionately and full of sweetened pity, disappointed and heartbroken with your evident sorrow. He wraps his arms around you and lets you cry into his chest, knowing that words aren't necessary anymore. 

You can talk later, tell him about it all. Now he needs to get you out of the pit you've sunken into, full of confusion and misery.

Walking you back to the bedroom, he places you softly on the bed, and before you can figure out what he's planning, he wraps the white blankets around you, efficiently rendering you unable to move. 

You don't fight against it, the soft sobs fading into a slight amused smile.

"What are you doing?" You speak impossibly quiet and gentle, watching him gather the materials together with unnecessary focus, as if he was working in the lab with millimetric utensils. You giggle at the sight, and his heart grows warm at the sound.

He looks at you, smirking without answering. You shuffle in the thin cocoon, finding a comfortable position for your wrists. Finally, he ties a knot with two joined corners and moves to hover above you. 

He scans all the features of your face, the glistening skin of your flushed cheeks, your softened eyes and agape mouth, ready to protest.

"Now wha-!" you attempt to speak, interrupted by his mouth on yours. He places an infinitely loving smooch to your pout, all anxiety clearing like clouds swept away by cool winds on a summer morning after a midnight thunderstorm.

When he moves away, all warmth and breath is stolen from you. Before you can clumsily chase after his kisses in your confinement, he picks you up and shuffles over to the headboard, placing you on his lap.

He holds you with a hand wide spread on your upper arm, your head comfortably nestled in his elbow pit. His other arm is draped across your waist, affectionate and protective.

"Mira lo guapa que eres." (Look how beautiful you are)

He kisses your forehead, another unhurried, lingering smooch. "I can't bear to see you like this, bebita." He kisses both your cheeks, his warm breath fanning over your face making your eyelids grow heavy with cosiness and adoration. You feel at home, safe, in his strong arms and under his ever loving touch.

"I'll take care of you." A kiss to your temple. Another on your cheekbone. "I'll take care of everything." More kisses around your mouth, and one to your right eye that finally lets a giggle erupt out of you.

You struggle against the cotton cocoon, wanting to free your arms and grab his handsome face in return. His hold tightens around you.

"Tranquila." (Relax.) He moves his head to the crook of your neck, placing a wet kiss below your jaw, making you instantly melt into his heated embrace, almost instinctively. He inhales deeply, leaning his temple against yours. 

You close your eyes, content and finally serene.

He nuzzles his nose in your pinky cheek, resuming the pecks. "Nothing is worth your smile. I'll travel through any universe, however far, to destroy anything that's troubling you, mi reina." 

He finally gives in and kisses your soft lips, making you sigh gently into his mouth. 

You feel your entire soul pour into his, a fresh mountain stream slowly flowing into a fresh, sun enlightened pond. Almost chest to chest, you feel his heart speed up, in sync with yours.

You wouldn't ever want to have it any other way.

divider by @cafekitsune

a/n: HOPE IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT!!! i still cant believe i couldn't find a pic for the cuddling position i was describing but anyways i hope it's clear enough 🫠🫠🫠

[lucydixon]

Worried

Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Blog Navigation A/N: On this week's episode of Lost in the Sauce with Roommate!Reader...

Summary: You'd been living in the house with Pelle, Øystein, and Jan for over a year and are taking Pelle's death hard. The boys try to help after noticing that you're not taking care of yourself. Trigger Warning: Mentions of Suicide, Depression, sleep deprivation psychosis, reckless behaviour, drug and alcohol use.

This one hurts. Reminds me of / is inspired by the time I went two weeks without sleeping more than an hour at a time and went into psychosis, lol.

You weren’t sleeping. 

Not for more than a few hours at a time, usually outside, or on the porch if it was raining, and never without seeing the inside of Pelle’s skull when you shut your eyes. 

You’d hidden it well the first week. 

Everyone was moping around, drinking too much, and not paying attention to how many appearances you made downstairs. 

The boys seemed to realize at the same time that there was something very wrong with you. 

You’d ventured down the stairs, wrapped in a very baggy sweater and a pair of Linen Pyjama shorts, which was strange considering you got dressed every morning even if you weren’t going anywhere. You made a point out of it and even insisted that they all do the same.

This was red flag number one. 

Your face was so pale that the skin looked translucent. Your glassy eyes were vacant, sunken, and framed by dark bags that looked days old.

Red flag number 2.

You’d padded barefoot across the living room without looking over at any of them, as if you hadn’t even seen them, and disappeared into the kitchen, emerging a minute later with a morsel of cheese in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, heading straight for the stairs. 

There goes number 3. 

Øystein and Jan collectively decided that they would take you to a gig, half hoping that it would cheer you up, half afraid to leave you alone in case you really were doing as poorly as Pelle had been. 

When Øystein went up to your room to tell you to get dressed, he found you flat on your mattress, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes washed over the messy room, a complete polar opposite to your usual neat and tidy. You’d even stapled sheets to the wall to block the light from pouring in through the windows. 

He felt gnawing concern in his insides, but opted to kick the side of your mattress to get your attention instead of being nice about it. 

You immediately jolted, shooting up into a sitting position to stare at him, wide-eyed. 

“We’re uh-” He looked slightly taken aback. “We’re going to a gig.” 

“Okay,” You breathed, brows pulled together in confusion. “And?” 

“You’re coming with us,” Øystein said like it was obvious. “You can’t go like that, though. You look like shit.” 

“What if I don’t wanna go?” you challenged weakly, a little afraid of being home alone for the first time since Pelle. It had just been the two of you in the house when he’d done it. You’d been hearing the sound of the gun going off over and over all day by that point. 

“Tough,” He shook his head. “Everybody’s scared you’re gonna off yourself. So you’re coming.” 

You visibly flinched at the mere mention, and he felt bad for a half second before clearing his throat and forcing himself to look away. 

“Faust and Occultus are gonna be here in an hour. That’s how long you have to get ready.” 

“Got it?” He snapped suddenly when you just blinked at him. 

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded, rubbing your hands over your face. 

“Asshole.” You muttered under your breath when he left without another word. 

Four hours later, you’d never been happier to see him. 

“Øystein!” You exclaimed, throwing yourself into his arms, sick with relief. 

He staggered back a single step and held you, obviously startled. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He breathed, acutely aware that you were hugging for the first time. 

“I don’t know who any of these fucking creeps are and I’m shitfaced, get me the fuck out of here.” You muttered into his chest, sounding almost afraid. 

His eyes widened slightly, then glanced around at all the unfamiliar faces, all of which were looking at him like he’d ruined their night. 

A few were still blatantly leering at you. 

“Did any of them touch you?” He all but snarled, still clutching you to his chest.

“Not really.” You shook your head. 

“Not really?” Øystein’s eyes narrowed and he felt rage swelling inside of him “What the fuck does that mean?” 

“Please.” You sounded so small, and that alone convinced him that getting you home was more important than getting angry. 

“Yeah,” he muttered into your hair, leaving an arm slung over your shoulders when he guided you towards the door, casting one last glare at the men on your way out. 

Once you stepped outside and the loud chatter from inside faded away, he could hear just how heavily you were breathing. 

He lowered his arm and watched in shock when you started walking down the street at a pace far quicker than your usual. 

“Hey!”  he called after you, rushing to catch up. “Where the fuck are you going?” 

By the time he did, you’d already rounded the corner, and he almost walked right into you, surprised to find you pressed up against a wall, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes while you tried to collect yourself. 

“Fuck.” You breathed shakily after a minute. “That was so fucking stupid.” 

“What happened?” Øystein urged, “Faust said he turned around, and you were just gone.” 

“Yeah.” You scoffed out a laugh, still not looking at him. “That’s exactly right. I ran” 

“Why the fuck would you do that?” He was too confused to be irritated. “Everyone is looking for you.” 

“That’s fucking embarassing.” You sighed, tugging at the ends of your hair. “I didn’t want to go home. I was tired, way too fucking tired.” 

“And I needed not to be tired.” 

He noticed for the first time just how quickly the words were coming out of your mouth.

“Are you-” He frowned, cocking his head to the side “Are you fucking high?” 

You looked up at him with your bloodshot eyes and dilated pupils, and Øystein knew immediately that you were before you’d even had the chance to answer. 

You seemed to realize this and didn’t bother. 

“And the bar?”

“Only place I know in town where I know that I can get anything stronger than grass,” you shrugged, looking regretful. “I overdid it.” 

“No shit.” The boy snapped, looking baffled, then angry, “Are you insane? What happened in there? What did they do? What would have happened if I didn’t walk in there?” 

“They just got a little handsy.” You muttered, looking away, “I know, okay? It’s my fault. I was being stupid.” 

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” He asked you, looking dead serious, “Is that what this is?” 

“Honestly,” you shook your head, gnawing on your bottom lip, “I don’t know. Not sleeping is doing my fucking head in. I’m seeing shit that isn’t there, but it’s worse when I’m sleeping. So I don’t know what to do.” 

“Then what do we do?” 

Your eyes darted back up to his, clearly taken aback by the lack of anger. All that there seemed to be was genuine concern. 

“Because this?” He gestured towards the bar, “This is not happening again. No more running off for benders.” 

“I don’t know,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I taxed a quarter flap, so I could probably stay up through the night, but after that, I don’t know.” 

“That’s not a solution.” He frowned. “You need to sleep, so how do we make that happen?” 

“At this point?” you shrugged. “Could just knock myself out, slam my head against the wall till I pass out.” 

Øystein couldn’t tell if you were joking or not, and it scared him a little to see you like that. You were always so easygoing and carefree, and it all just seemed so out of character. 

“You could sleep in my room if you want.” He offered without thinking, “It might help not to sleep alone.” 

“I’d probably try to fuck you or something,” you waved him off, speaking flippantly “it would get messy.” 

The boy made a startled choking noise, his cheeks burning. 

“You what?” 

“You heard me.” You looked at him. “I’m in a weird place, I’m drunk and high and looking for a distraction, and if I don’t watch it, you’ll be collateral.”

“I’ll sleep outside,” you shrugged, rubbing your arms. “Bring my blanket out and it’ll be fine.” 

“Or I’ll sleep in Jan’s room. I don’t know.” 

“And what?” Øystein couldn’t help but sound bitter “You’ll try and fuck him instead?” 

“I’m not gonna fuck Jan.” you rolled your eyes. 

“Why not?” His brows pulled together. 

“We’re just friends, me and him.” 

“And we’re not?” 

“I don’t know what the fuck we are, Øystein.” you scoffed, scrubbing your hands over your numb face “We’ve got our whole trying to kill eachother one minute, then flirty banter the next, thing going.” 

“What if I don’t want to fuck you?” The words tumbled out of his mouth, defensive for no reason. 

“Then I’d embarrass myself for sure if I slept in your room,” you chuckled softly, looking up at him with a hint of mischief beneath the drunken haze. “God, I hope I don’t remember this shit in the morning.” 

“You should’ve just let me find my way home.” 

“I don't think you would’ve made it home if you’d stayed in there any longer.”

“I don’t really want to talk about this anymore.” Your entire face seemed to fall into a flat look, guarded all of a sudden. 

“Alright.” Øystein sighed, unable to help the nagging concern, “We’ll find the others.”

Neither of you spoke until Jan, Faust, and Occultus came running towards you a half hour later, six blocks from the bar where Øystein had found you.

“Where did you go? I turned around, and you were just gone.” Faust almost ran right into you.

“Sorry,” you muttered, rubbing your arms. 

The boy immediately took off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders. 

Øystein wondered if you’d been cold the whole time the two of you had been outside, not having even considered it. 

Guilt tugged at his insides when he saw how Faust dotted on you, noticing just how poorly you really looked. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, rubbing your arms over the leather, trying to warm you up. “What happened?” 

“I’m fine.” you blinked up at him, brows furrowed slightly “I was just being an asshole.” 

“You could never be an asshole,” Faust told you, frowning. “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, pulling his coat around you tightly. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

You all parted ways at the cars. Faust and Occultus in one, while you got in with Jan and Øystein after returning the worn leather jacket with a tired, but warm smile.

You followed the boys up to the front porch and went up the stairs, staring at the ground the whole way. 

“I’m worried about her.” Jan sighed, watching you go. “She just keeps getting worse.” 

“I don’t know what to do.” Øystein frowned, rubbing the back of his neck “She says she’s so tired she’s seeing shit that isn’t there.” 

“Did she say what?” 

He shook his head. 

“Where’d you find her?” 

“A bar.” The boy sighed, “surrounded by creeps and coked out of her fucking-” 

He froze, remembering that you’d said you’d stolen a quarter flap. 

Before Jan could even open his mouth, Øystein was halfway up the stairs, so he ran after him, his brows furrowed in concern. 

When did you start using drugs?

How had he not noticed?

Øystein burst into your room without knocking 

You were sitting on your windowsill, one leg dangling on either side, with your nail raised to your nose. You’d frozen in surprise, halfway through your bump, when you’d been interrupted. 

“Stop.” His tone was warning as he stood just inside your room, pinning you under his gaze. 

Who did he think he was, looking at you like that?

Like you’d killed somebody. 

You might as well have. 

You looked Øystein dead in the eye and snorted what was left in your nail, pinching the bridge of your nose immediately after.  

His eyes darted down to your hands as he marched over to you just as Jan was staggering through the door, out of breath. 

“Where’s the rest of it?” He snapped, only a few feet away. 

“Get out of my room.” Your voice was flat and only made him frown. 

He took a step forward and, without having to think, you leaned further out the window. 

Both boys froze. 

“Hold on.” Jan tried to sound soothing, “Be careful, or you’re gonna fall.” 

“I’m not gonna fall.” You told him. 

He could see now that you were off your face. 

Your eyes were bloodshot and crazed. 

“You’re freaking everybody out.” He told you, “You’re just tired, get off the window.” 

“Just leave me alone.” 

“We’re not gonna fucking leave you alone so you can kill yourself or whatever the fuck it is that you’re trying to do!” Øystein shouted, startling you enough that you jumped. 

There was a collective intake of breath until you steadied yourself. 

“Øystein, stop it.” Jan tried to keep his voice firm, but it shook. 

He’d never seen you like this, and it scared him. 

If you had a momentary lapse of judgement and threw yourself out the window, there wasn’t a thing either of them could do to stop it. 

“Would you please get down? You’re scaring us.” 

You frowned. 

“I’m not gonna kill myself,” you muttered, pulling yourself inside the room. “I wouldn’t do that.” 

“Where’s the rest of the Coke?” Øystein asked, softer than anyone had expected. 

“I finished it.” 

“Liar.” 

“Just leave me alone.” You wrapped your arms around yourself and, for a moment, you looked and felt like a child. “Seriously, guys. Just go.” 

“We’re not gonna do that.” Jan told you, “You need to sleep.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Not with all that fucking coke in you, you can’t.” Øystein snapped, earning him a glare from his bandmate.

“For fuck’s sake.” you rubbed your face roughly, barely able to feel your hands. “I’ve had enough that I’m not going to sleep anyway. I’ll try in a few hours. I will.” 

You were seriously contemplating the banging your head against the wall until you knocked yourself out option at this point.

The black cat sitting on your dresser was muttering to you to do it. Its voice was far gentler than Øystein’s. 

You just needed them to leave. 

‘Get them out.’ The cat hissed 

‘Get them out of our room.’ 

‘Get them out!’

“I’m trying!” you shouted, staring at your dresser with wide eyes. 

Jan and Øystein exchanged a look of near panic. 

“Okay, that’s it.” The guitarist muttered, shaking his head. “Give me the fucking coke, or I’m going to take it from you.” 

‘That one is very rude.’ 

“I know,” you scoffed, still looking at the dresser. 

It almost sounded like a laugh, but turned into a startled gasp when he grabbed you suddenly, and you started thrashing in his grip. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you shouted, trying to free yourself. “Let go of me you fucking asshole!” 

Øystein was as gentle as he could be with you, pinning your arms at your sides and clutching your back to his chest in hopes that you’d tire yourself out and just hand it over. 

“Jan!” you flailed “Get him the fuck off of me!” 

He stood there, feeling helpless. 

“Ow!” you tried, yelping, “you’re hurting me, Øystein!” 

“I’m not,” he told you simply. You were weak from the lack of sleep and nowhere near getting yourself out of his arms. He didn’t even have to hold you all that tight. “Just calm down.” 

“Pelle!” you screamed as if he was standing there with them, frantic and near tears. “Pelle! Help me!” 

The sound of you screaming like that felt like a knife in both boys' chests. 

you sounded like you’d lost your fucking mind. 

Øystein could feel your body giving out on you. Your movements slowed, and your breathing quickened until you were hyperventilating. 

He looked to Jan, wide-eyed for help. 

Your legs gave out, and Øystein gently lowered you onto the hardwood floor, sinking down with you still in his arms while Jan scrambled over, looking panicked. 

“You need to breathe.” He told you, crouched down in front of you.

“I can’t.” You gasped for air, finally done struggling. 

“You can.” Øystein’s voice was in your ear, sounding a little hoarse. “You’ve been doing it your whole life.” 

“It’s alright.” Jan told you, “You’re fine. Just breathe.” 

‘You’re not fine.’ the cat taunted, jumping from the dresser onto the floor ‘you’ve lost your god damned mind.’  

“Shut up!” You channeled all your breath to shout at it, “Just shut up! You’re not even fucking real!” 

Øystein and Jan looked at eachother, baffled. 

Whatever the hell you were talking to seemed to be at the other end of the room, towards the door. 

The concern morphed into relief once they realised that you’d gotten a hold of yourself by screaming at it. 

You were slumped back into Øystein’s chest, sobbing with your head in your hands. 

“Jesus,” Jan breathed, sitting back on his heels and feeling like he might just start crying too. 

Øystein didn’t look any better. 

He just squeezed you a little tighter and rested his chin on the top of your head while you cried. 

Dividers by @saradika-graphics Screengrab by @sweet-dr3amer

[lulublack90]

Prompt 5 - Wolfsbane Potion

@wolfstarmicrofic April 5, word count 737

It was horrible stuff. Remus was almost positive Snape was ensuring the bitter, cloying flavour of the potion was stronger than it needed to be because it was for him. 

He gagged on the final swallow and had to press his hand to his mouth to stop himself from throwing up. A quiet knock at his door made him jump, and he hurriedly hid the goblet that was still faintly smoking and called out for his visitor to enter. 

Harry’s head poked around the door, his vivid green eyes lighting up when they landed on him. 

“Hi Professor Lupin,” he grinned, and Remus’s heart gave a little twinge. He looked so much like James that Remus could barely keep it together when he looked at the boy. 

“Hello, Harry. What can I do for you?” He returned his best friend's son's smile, even if it was slightly forced. 

“Nothing, just a bit bored, thought I’d pop in and see what you’ve got planned for us next week,” his eyes darted excitedly around the room, looking for the dark creature Remus might have had stashed somewhere. Remus chuckled and crooked his finger as he stood and went over to his cupboard. 

He unlocked it, Harry bouncing from foot to foot in his excitement. Remus had to close his eyes to block out the memory of the boy he knew who also used to do that. He pushed away the shoulder-length black curls, the skin so pale it was almost translucent, those grey eyes that could see into your soul and that lopsided smile that melted his heart every time Sirius used it on him. 

He cleared his throat and slid on his dragon-hide glove before plucking one of the small crab-like creatures from the tank he’d hidden in there. He brought it out into the light to show Harry. “Wow, what is it?” The thirteen-year-old asked excitedly. 

“It is called a Chizpurfle. They are parasites drawn to anything magical. They tend to live in the fur of Krups, the feathers of Augurys, but they also like wizard dwellings. They will gnaw away on wands, guzzle potions from the bottom of cauldrons, anything with a magical signature they’ll hunt it out and devour it. Fascinating things, though it is very easy for an infestation to get out of hand. See the little fangs there?” He pointed at the Chizpurfle’s fangs as it tried in vain to bite through Remus’s glove. “Those are what they use to latch onto a living host and won't let go until they are fit to burst with magic,” Remus let Harry look at it for a while longer before returning it to the tank and after ensuring it was fully secure locked his cupboard back up. 

“It’s kind of like a tick,” Harry mused aloud. 

“Yes, that is a very good comparison. Well done Harry,” he grinned, proud of how Harry had linked the two together. 

“Good enough for a few points to Gryffindor?” Harry asked cheekily. Remus had to school his face so he didn’t roll his eyes. He let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Five points to Gryffindor, because not many can use cheek like that and get away with it,” Harry beamed. “Go on off with you,” Remus ushered him towards the door. “And you’d best be an expert on Chizpurfle’s for your next lesson,” Not that Remus would be teaching it, it fell on the day after the full moon and Remus would be recovering. 

“Yes, Sir,” Harry’s eyes crinkled and glinted with mischief as he quickly exited Remus’s office. Remus shut the door and leaned against it. Sliding down and letting everything he’d been holding back wash over him. 

He turned his head to the pile of newspapers he’d kept on the bottom shelf of his bookcase and pulled out the top one, staring into the face of Sirius Black. 

“I still don’t understand how you drifted so far from the boy I knew to this,” he told the silent picture as Sirius’s face laughed back at him. Remus put the newspaper away and, for the first time in a long time, wished the wolf could take over on the full moon so he could escape for a few hours, but that damn wolfsbane potion wouldn’t let him. He’d be stuck in the wolf’s body with his own mind, fully aware and able to think of lost friends and Sirius.