#trying desperately to keep the other one out

[earthtooz]

x : LUST FOR LIFE *+ﾟ

in which: sunday discovers a new emotion when he's under you.

warnings: 1.5k words, sunday is B(h)ORNY and doesn't know how to deal with it, he wants reader so bad, lowkey implied switch!sunday, gn!reader being sunday's freak awakening, NO SMUT BUT UNDER 16 DNI, not edited

a/n: five likes and i'll write nsfw for sunday

What good is a leader who can’t empathise with the lives of the people he was supposed to be leading?

This thought has plagued Sunday ever since he exiled himself from Penacony, since he joined the Astral Express in a journey of self-discovery and reflection, embracing the Nameless lifestyle so he can broaden the horizons that Penacony had restricted. There, he was so detached from the reality of the people he was trying to help, so trapped in a whirlwind of his own ideals to experience humanity, too buried in official duties to rejoice in the many wonders of the universe, the simple pleasures and the grandiose ones.

Since boarding, the former head of the Oak Family has experienced humiliation, desperation, and many close calls with death. It seems he underestimated how easily trouble found the Trailblazers, and the diary he carries with him has been updated with multiple entries, filled with exasperated recounts that ended with him being grateful that he is still well and unscathed.

Sunday has also experienced laughter, connection, and the bond of humankind- something he did not have before. When he controlled the Oak Family, had everyone under or at his fingertips, the only person he could depend on was himself. When Robin left to travel the cosmos, what was he to do than learn the bitter truth of independence and self-sufficiency? 

Yet, he sits on the couches of the Astral Express and there is bound to be another by him, trying to converse with him like an old friend. He is mentioned in the conversations like an individual who they keep around because they want to, not because he is crafty, not because of what he can offer. No, he can’t offer anything right now, and the crew still wants him to stay.

He learns more about humanity with each passing day.

However, perhaps one of the more puzzling feelings Sunday has had to confront was… infatuation. 

It’s a tricky feeling. It sends his heart into overdrive and his limbs to become jelly, and at the epicentre of this hurricane of uncharted territory, is you. 

“Sunday?” Your voice comes through muffled from the other side of the door. He almost jumps off his mattress at the sound. 

“Door is open,” he responds as calmly as possible, heart thrumming alive at the sound of your voice, beating in time with the rapid succession of your knocks. 

The door slides open slowly to reveal you on the other side. “Pom Pom just wanted to let everyone know that we will be jumping soon.” 

“I see, thank you for letting me know.”

“No problem,” your gaze then flickers to the angels that flock around him and he watches as your eyes gleam with fascination.

Then, without any hesitation or reluctance, you enter his room and approach him, the door sliding closed without your weight to hold it open. You stop before him without a bow, without a formal greeting of ‘Mr. Sunday’- no, you stop before him like an equal, which you most certainly are. In fact, he would even think of himself below you, but Sunday needs to unlearn this assumption of hierarchy, needs to not let it define the relationships he forms, even if he looks up to you and finds you reverent. 

“Hey, I’ve never seen these little guys before!” You exclaim, sticking out a hand to act like a perch for the angel-like summons. One of them flits up to you and stays on your outstretched finger. “Well, not this close, at least.”

It keens at your praise. Like owner like summon, Sunday supposes.

“I don’t tend to bring them out. They are for combat purposes,” he explains. 

Your eyes widen slightly. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me right now?” 

“What? No! That’s not it-”

“-I’m kidding, Sunday,” you snicker. “We’re friends, I wouldn’t want to fight you.”

“Right,” he exhales, “I wouldn’t want to fight you either.”

“Besides, we already did once.”

He freezes at the memory, remembers when he got hit with the exact train he is currently boarding. 

You, however, are unphased by the recollection, and even continue to rub salt in the wound. “I remember fighting against these little summons too, your owner was a real meanie, do you guys know that?” 

They flock around you, spinning and fluttering like little fireflies.  Instinctively, Sunday covers his flustered expression with his wings, and he doesn’t budge, even when he hears your laugh, the sound almost enough for him to melt into a puddle by your feet.

“Hey, hey, I was kidding, sorry if I took the joke too far.” 

He uncovers himself with an embarrassed sigh, not meeting your eyes. “It’s okay, I think the memory is just… humiliating, more than anything.”

“There are no more hard feelings. Everyone has accepted you on board and none of us think of you to be the same person you were when we first met, I promise.”

Your words are completely earnest, Sunday knows it, can feel it in the way you tell him so unabashedly. So who is he to deny it?

“Thank you,” he says, finally looking up at you, “it means a lot to hear that.” 

“I’ll say it as much as you need. Well, I’ll get out of your hair now, just prepare for the jump-”

Your sentence is interrupted by a shriek when you lose your footing, and Sunday feels it too, the force so strong that even he, while sitting, feels as if is being stretched and pulled into a miniscule hole. What he also feels is your body colliding on top of his, and his hands come to your waist to catch you in an attempt to prevent you from slipping, but it’s not enough and he’s falling with you onto the expanse of his made bed.

The Express is warping to some expanse of the universe, and his stomach drops at the sensation, spreading to the ends of his nerves before disappearing, just replaced by the extremely odd feeling of being pulled through the stars. He just hopes you’re comfortable, standing up whilst warping is tough, he heard the stories of when Stelle first tried to do it and how she fell flat on her face. 

When the feeling of normality returns and Sunday doesn’t feel like he has been stretched out, he opens his eyes and tries to take in the sight before him.

You. Your face. Centimetres away from his.

He’s always thought you were pretty, but seeing you this close… perhaps just pretty is an understatement. His gaze unwillingly flicks to your lips and he wished he hadn’t because suddenly the urge to sit up and lick into your mouth is raging; a fire that can’t be contained. 

Sunday wants you to push him down by the shoulders, with no gentleness or mercy, and just… devour him whole. His hands want to find you by the hips and pull you into him more than humanly possible, he wants you to indent yourself onto him so he can remember your taste forever, so that, in a way, you couldn’t ever leave him. 

Alternatively, he would happily flip around and pin you against the mattress. He would pry you open, explore the cavern of your mouth with his tongue and suck your sacred essence out of you so that it can stay and settle in his bones instead, replacing where marrow should be. He wants to lay you vulnerable so his hands can explore places only you want him to touch, wants to take you so that you stay forever, wants to feel your tongue against his, wants to hold your face and feel how you react when he takes his time cherishing you, revering you. 

This feeling is too much, these thoughts are overpowering, yet nothing has ever been more clear. Sunday wants you, lusts for you, even, and he’s never felt so intensely for someone before. 

How would the symphonies sound when they learn of the atrocities he wants to perform? 

Temptation holds him close and infects him with a desire so strong, he’s practically frozen in place as you recover from the shock, holding yourself up with your arms that were on either side of his head. 

“Ow, I’m sorry!” You immediately exclaim, before realising exactly what position you are in, your chests are pressed together, and you’re mortified to think about how close you were before you picked yourself off him, and- his… his hips… are pressed against yours- okay, you needed to leave as soon as possible.

You scramble off him like he had burnt you, frantically shouting apologies whilst doing so, the words clumsy and rushed, but neither of you can deny how you miss the warmth that was suddenly ripped away. 

(If he wanted to, you could have stayed in that position with him.)

Then, before you could get anymore thoughts, you turn and practically bolt out of his room without another word, leaving a hot and bothered Sunday behind.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Could you please write first time with Vi or with both Vi and Caitlin, I don't really mind which one it's up to you (thank you in advance if you write any of this 🙏)

Comfortable

|| vi x caitlyn x fem!reader

|| Warnings; smut, reader's first, breast play, pussy eating, fingering, praise kink, orgasm, finger sucking, good girl use, break, bottom/receiving!reader, dom!vi, dom!caitlyn

|| Summary; when the girls get reader to their room, they have some fun.

Requests closed!

Started; November 26th

Finished; November 27th

~~~

It wasn't long before the two girls had you following them to their bedroom. Caitlyn holding your hand as she brought you along, a subtle smug look across her face while Vi couldn't stop smirking. Before you knew it you were up against the door. Caitlyn's lips against your neck, Vi's body against yours. They knew this was your first. So they planned ahead with you to go slow, making sure you had a safe word and that this was what you really wanted. If at any point you decided to stop, they wouldn't hesitate to let you. This was all happening on your grounds.

Caitlyn placed gentle kisses to your neck. Sucking until a mark was left while Vi brought your lips onto her own. You couldn't help but moan from the different sensations. The sound sending vibrations through Vi's lips that made her shudder. She parted the kiss and gave Caitlyn a subtle look. They seemed to almost make some agreement and the next thing you knew, Vi was picking you up. Carrying you to their bed where she set you down. Caitlyn laid next to you. Helping you out of your clothes, the soft look never leaving her eyes. Taking in the sight of your naked appearance.

"You're beautiful," She murmured. Leaning forwards to suck your breasts. The nipple gently rolling between her teeth. You gasped at the feeling. Back instinctively arching into her. Wanting more. It was insane how good she could make you feel. Just from the breasts alone. You'd been so focused on Caitlyn that you didn't realize what Vi was doing. Until you suddenly felt her tongue against your clit. Lapping at the wetness. Savouring the taste while her tongue danced in circles. Bringing waves of overwhelming, endless, pleasure through you. The two of them on you at once... was almost enough to make you cum then and there. And you nearly did. But you managed yo control it, hold it in.

That didn't last long, though. The moment Vi started adding her fingers you were done. The knot that had tightened itself in your stomach came undone. Despite your best efforts at keeping it together. Your pitch got louder, hands gripping the sheets. Lifting Caitlyn a bit when your back arched more. Caitlyn smirked against your skin. Her hand roaming down to your waist, gently pulling you down. Holding you still. "Shh, you're doing so well." Caitlyn praised. Her tone a murmur.

Vi lifted her head, licking the cum from her lips. Her finger pulling out of you and into your mouth. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you relaxed into it. Sucking her finger. The taste of yourself making you moan. Vi smirked and cupped your cheek with her other hand. "Such a good girl. Could you be any cuter?" Vi leaned forward. Taking her finger from your lips and instead capturing them in her own. The kiss bruising. Your lips trying to keep up with hers in a desperate, sloppy attempt.

As the kiss parted, you struggled a bit to catch your breath. Still overwhelmed from your orgasm. Caitlyn noticed before Vi and sat up, placing a hand to your stomach. "Hey, just breathe. Do you need water?" She asked, when you nodded she left the bed. Getting you water while Vi laid beside you. Watching you with concern in her eyes.

"Do you wanna stop here?" Vi asked and you shook your head. You didn't want to stop. It felt absolutely amazing. But you did need a break before they could do anymore to you.

"Just.. a break." You told her, her eyes softened and she held you close. Being the bigger spoon as her fingers trailed soft circles against your stomach.

"Take as long as you need." She whispered.

You definitely did. It was nearly twenty minutes before you were ready to go again. But the girls didn't mind. They wanted you comfortable.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

More to it

I just love friends to lovers. ~900 words

Thinking about BSF!Jason Todd and how neither of you are willing to cross that line. You're both balancing on what's more and what isn't, both desperate for something you're not willing to name but so scared to risk losing it all.

What you have now is comfortable, safe, and if being more doesn't work? Could you ever go back to what you had? Is the reward really worth playing with fate?

It's honestly so dumb because it's obvious you're both a thread snap away from breaking the growing tension between you. You see the way his fingers twitch towards you when you walk past him, and he catches the way your breath hitches when he tilts his head down to meet your eyes.

You'd have to blind not to notice the way his gaze locks onto you from across the room. He'd have to be oblivious to not see how your knees go weak when he laughs at your jokes. You're locked in each other's gravity, drawn in by way your hearts slot together without the need for words.

Everyone already thinks you're together, even when you say you're not. There's no hiding the lovestruck look in either of your faces, the way he drapes his arm over your shoulder, the way you lean into his side like it's the only place in the world you want to be.

His family doesn't tease you as much about it anymore. Sometimes, you wish they would, even for the excuse to talk about it. There's no label between you other than he's your best friend. And maybe it doesn't need to be more. (But you'd like it to be)

Even strangers think you're together. The guy flirting with you is quick to turn on his heel with an apology on his lips at the sight of Jason. Worse is, you don't hate it. If anything, you like it.

There's almost a pride in it, how people fawn over how cute you and him are together. Neither of you ever correct them, even if you should, and it only continues to blur the line between friend and more.

But when you both finally break? You break hard. It's feverish, your fingers fisted into clothes and his hands cradling your face. You're not even sure what caused it or who moved first. You don't even bother to try to figure it out when he presses you against the wall to kiss you deeper.

It could have been the way you'd reached out to brush his hair back in the elevator to your apartment. Or it could have been the way he tugged his jacket over your shoulders when you started to shiver. Or maybe it was the way you both just stopped in the doorway of your apartment, lingering in the charged air and basking in the closeness the entryway provided.

It doesn't really matter how. What matters is that the kiss seems to pull the air from your lungs, and his heart is beating to the sound of your name. What matters is that when he pulls away to catch his breath, you chase him for another kiss.

Neither of you can focus on what happens next, because it's the warmth of your skin seeping into his and your fingers tangling into his hair that keeps you in the now.

Now, which is so big and so small all at once because his world is narrowed to the angle you tilt your head to kiss him again and you could care less what's happening outside of your apartment, outside of him.

He's your best friend, and you've always been his, but all it took is one moment to destroy any idea of ever being just friends again.

Thinking about boyfriend!Jason Todd and how he always kisses you in the doorway of your apartment because it's 'tradition'. Don't even think about trying to get out of it, not that you'd ever want to, his hand is already curled in the back of your shirt to tug you closer.

One kiss turns into five and it's probably for the best he kisses you like this when you're coming home because you'd never get anywhere if he kissed you like this every time you have to leave.

No one even bats an eye when he kisses the top of your hair or when you thread your fingers with his in public. There's a new softness in his eyes and voice, less of a weight on his shoulders, and your face never lights up as brightly as it does when he's looking at you.

It's instinctual, the way you seem to blend into each other's lives even more now. Your sheets smell like him, your things end up in his apartment just as often as his does in yours.

Thinking about boyfriend!Jason Todd, and how you laugh about ever being nervous to be more with him. It's not always perfect, but it's real, and him and you against the world just like it's always been.

There's still movie nights, still days you set out on your mission to find the best food in Gotham together. But there's also dates, also love-struck words, and needy touches.

There's still late night conversations, still whispered secrets and confessions. But there's also hopeful, hushed tones that talk about the future, a future together.

He's still your best friend, but you're partners too, so he doesn't stop himself when his fingers twitch with the urge to touch you anymore. You don't hide the way you seem to melt in his presence.

He's yours, you're his, and it was never going to end any other way than like this, souls entwined and smiles fond.

[possiblyreallyme]

Soft!Dom!Ace

Soft!Dom!Ace, who makes you a pillow princess with his sweet words and mean hips.

Soft!Dom!Ace, who'll hold down your wrists and shush you, fluttering tiny kisses against your cheeks while you take his big cock, splitting you open for the third time today with his hands on tour thighs, nice and spread.

Soft!Dom!Ace, who moans so sweetly above you, telling you he loved you more than anything in the world and clashing his hips to yours in the most brutal way possible, as if he fucking hated you despite his words.

Soft!Dom!Ace, who's famous for many things, one of which being how he takes you into a closet every time he sees one and comes out looking as happy as a dog, carrying your trembling body as he hums a merry toon.

Soft!Dom!Ace, who refuses to let you touch yourself. that's not your job, honey, let me rub with your clit while you bounce on my cock. let me play with your nipples while I fuck you from behind. let me hold your hair back while you suck me off, so beautiful, sweet girl.

Soft!Dom!Ace, who grins so innocently up at you when you're hiccupping on those pretty tears, desperately wiggling on his lap while his cockhead grinds against the opening of your cervix, cooing while you paw at his chest like a kitten.

Soft!Dom!Ace, who calls you such pretty things. my girl, my love, darlin', angel, sugar, honey, beautiful, you name it. all while you're struggling to take two of his thick fingers to the knuckle, let alone the third one he's trying to coax in with a kiss to your temple, his other arm wrapped around your waist to keep you locked in his embrace.

Soft!Dom!Ace, who has no trouble in bending you over the table in front of the crew to "love on you". to slide his cock under your skirt and slip the fat, beet red tip into your quivering entrance, throwing his head back to sigh in utter bliss, all while you look around frantically and keep your palm against your lips, trying to silence your noises and keep guard while he rubs your back and has his fun.

Soft!Dom!Ace, who just loves you soooo much, why shouldn't you be bursting with his cum 24/7? so cute, all dopey and utterly high on the hormones his copious amount of cum is giving you, but that's only when the two of you are alone in his cabin and he can fuck you until bursting. otherwise, it's just little quickies to keep you full, watch you turn shy when a little drips down the inside of your thigh during conversations with his friends.

[bandgie]

Stuffing to Give

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, AGE GAP, reader has an asshole family, hickeys (brief mention), cumming inside, Yunho bites once, clothe tearing, no protection, size kink if you squint, Yunho says 'young pussy', stomach bulge mention

3.5k words

notes! sorry I've been gone, life or whatever. buuutttt happy holidays! this fic took me too long but for being in a drought, I'm proud of it. hope you enjoy :) (divider from @/anitalenia) tag! @desirehorizon

“You know, you should be looking for a husband. Not worrying about your classes or anything like that. No man likes a woman too smart for her own good.”

It was your mom who opened the can of worms during Thanksgiving. The air was already uncomfortable being that distant family who were more like strangers sat at the dinner table, but mentioning that you’ve been single for so long, at such an ‘old age’, made everything a thousand times worse. 

You’re not even old. Some would argue being in your mid-20s was still very young. 

But no matter how much you’ve tried to defend yourself. No matter how many times you said you just wanted to focus on furthering your education, your aunts and uncles pressed one and one thing only. 

Your uncle lifted his fork to his greasy lips, the white meat of the turkey forcing itself into his already stuffed mouth. “Y’know, your youth will only last you for so long. You’ll end up an old cat lady and regret not settling down.”

Regret. You hate that word, as if these people know anything about you, let alone have a right to say how you should live. The food you're trying to swallow feels too big for your throat. There’s a burning in your chest. A feeling you’ve tried desperately to suppress since the holidays started. 

Anger. Hate. Hurt. Disgust. Fear.

You don’t want to be here anymore. 

Dramatically, you throw your fork on the table. The silverware clatters harshly against your plate and bounces until it lands on the other side of the table. The chatter stops immediately, all eyes on you as you stand so quickly the chair topples to the ground.

A pin could drop and it would echo in the quiet room. 

“You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me getting knocked up. It’s fucking weird. Get off my dick.”

Aunts gasp. Some Uncles laugh. But your mom, her eyes are so wide and shocked as if she wasn’t the one who started this whole issue and didn’t do anything to defend you. 

Her own daughter. 

“And you.” You look at her, but it’s hard when your vision blurs. “When I do find a husband, and when I do have kids, don’t expect to hear from me.”

Voices call your name as you turn away. Someone tries to hold you back by the forearm, but you tear from their grasp. Your only goal is to get the fuck out of there, heading for the front door and slamming it on your way out.

It’s cold. A gentle breeze blows your hair as you turn to the side of the house. The crunch of leaves sounds on the ground therapeutically. You can’t help but look at the pretty orange and brown beneath your feet. It’s the only thing keeping your frustrating tears from falling. 

But you don’t see that there’s already someone at the side of the house with your gaze on the ground. You forget how close the houses are in this neighborhood.

“Bad day I take it?”

You lift your head, surprised to see someone already at your spot. The sun is setting despite the early hours. The only thing illuminating his face are the porch lights. His cheekbones are high. His brown hair is decorated with a few gray strands, framing his handsomeness perfectly. His lips curve into a smile, but more friendly than humorous. 

Shit, you’re staring. “Oh you know, just family butting in when they shouldn’t.”

He grins at that. “Ah, good ol’ holiday joy. I can’t stand them either. Pretending they know me when they don't.”

Relief settles on your shoulders. At least you aren’t alone. “I know right? They change my diaper once and suddenly think they know what’s good for me.”

The man laughs. His smile lines deepen at his lips and his eyes close for a brief moment. You smile at him.

“I know the feeling all too well.” He studies you when he opens his eyes again, gaze dropping to your nylon-covered legs and the cut of your dress. He travels up to your face smoothly. “What was your name?”

It takes a second for the effect of his gaze to fade, but you manage to tell him. “I’m studying Chemistry right now. On my way to getting a Masters.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh wow! That’s really impressive! You look too young to have all that under your belt already.”

His compliments make you burn. “Oh, thank you. I just study hard.” You tuck a strand of hair that blows annoyingly in your face. “And you are...?”

“Yunho.”

You furrow your eyebrows together. “You know? No, I don’t think I do.”

He looks just as confused, but then realization settles on his face and he laughs again. This time, he clutches his stomach and bends over, getting close to your bubble. Not that you mind, you like the smell of his light, earthy cologne.

“No- not ‘you know.’ Yunho. Y-U-N-H-O.”

That smile is still on his face when it clicks in your mind. You feel your face burn from embarrassment, covering your mouth with cold fingers. “Oh my god. I’m such an idiot. Yunho. Okay, I get it.”

You’re still burning when he chuckles again, deep and velvety. “No worries. I think that’s the first time that’s happened to me.”

The two of you laugh once more before you settle into silence. The quiet doesn’t last long when he asks, “So why are you out here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Maybe it’s the warm, pleasant feeling in your stomach from talking to Yunho, but you don’t have an ounce of hesitation in telling him. “My family has always bugged me about starting a family. The moment I graduated high school, it’s like the only thing I’m good for now is popping out babies.”

Yunho scoffs. His jaw clenches attractively and you hate how your legs press together upon the sight. 

“I know completely where you’re coming from. Trust me, that nagging never goes away. I’m already well above my prime and my brothers still bother me about finding a wife. With all this gray hair? I don’t think the ladies would want an old man like me.”

A demon must possess you because you speak before you can even think. “What? Yunho, I know we just met, but you’re like…very attractive. Finding a wife won’t be hard for you, even if you think you’re old.”

The lift of his eyebrow says it all. He’s shocked, at the very least. He stands straighter, towering over you. You hadn’t realized he was leaning against the wall to appear smaller, but his height stuns you.

He cocks his head to the side. “You think so?”

It takes a moment to gather your thoughts. His defined chest shows through his black turtleneck, nipples pebbling in the cold. His lithe arms wrap over his chest, adding to the clothed cleavage. If his upper body looks this good underneath clothes, you can’t even imagine anything less.

“I…” Fuck it. “Yeah. I do. You’re tall, handsome, fit, and some chicks dig older guys.” 

He scoffs a little, but it’s more from embarrassment than pride. His full cheeks blush further and you know it’s not from the cold. If you manage to play your cards right, you can ditch your family dinner for a different type of feast.

Yunho’s smile turns darker, more sinister as he looks down at you through his bangs. “Oh yeah? What type of chicks?”

“If you want to get specific, maybe the one standing in front of you.”

His grin deepens. Bingo.

-

His car is nice. Like, really nice. The seats are leather and he's got interior lights that shine when he opens the passenger car door for you. 

What a gentleman. 

But it’s his flat that impresses you the most. The ones you see are usually in the movies, either too small for any average person to live in or big enough for a whole town. Yunho has the latter.

You want to compliment him. Or more so, ask what type of job he has to afford all this space, but the large hands on your back push you to the bedroom and remind you why you’re here in the first place.

He doesn’t bother closing the door when you two make it to his room. Yunho cranes his neck down, lips ghosting over your own before he finds your neck instead. You lean to one side, hands going up his back trailing to his hair that you intertwine with your fingers. His mouth is so warm on your cold skin. It has you shaking for a brief moment before you get used to his heat.

Yunho starts with pecks. His lips feel plush and delicate, causing your flesh to rise with goosebumps. He moves to the center of your neck and kisses there too, but just when your eyes are starting to flutter shut and your mouth opens to sigh, he bites. 

You gasp instead. “Ah! Yunho!”

He doesn’t pull away from your throat, but you can feel his body jolt with giggles. He presses his kisses harder where his teeth marked you, a tiny apology you grow wet from. The two of you are still standing mere inches from the bed, but you don’t want to part from him. Yunho’s leg fits perfectly snug between your thighs and though you aren’t grinding, your cunt likes the warmth it provides. 

But you can feel it throbbing. The aching for any tiny movement, but you force yourself still save for how you keep pressing yourself against him.

Yunho makes you feel so small. His hands feel as if they could hold you easily, and they seem to do that with your lower back. Long fingers dig into your skin, and it doesn’t take long for his hands to travel further down until he finds the fat of your ass.

He takes a moment to stop giving you hickeys and groans into your shoulder. “So fucking soft. Your ass looks so good in this dress.” He swipes his tongue from your collarbone to the place below your ears. Your nipples harden almost immediately, the wetness makes you cold for a moment.

“You should see how it looks without it on.”

Challenge sparks in his eyes when he raises his head to look at you. All it takes is a reassuring nod from you before he pulls away almost completely, save for the hands squeezing your ass.

“On the bed then. Let me see.”

You smile and pry his hands off you, lifting your dress above your hips, but not off your body completely. You turn around for Yunho to face your back, hands finding the bed so you crawl on the bed for him to see. Your knees are on the edge, but finding balance is easy when you arch, wiggling your ass in the air.

The nylons are still on, but the see-through fabric adds a layer of sexiness. Yunho’s fingers graze your ass, stuck on squeezing and spreading your cheeks. It makes your pussy lips move with it, opening and closing against your clit softly. 

It’s such a tiny movement to your pussy, but with how you’ve been ignoring its leaking, it feels like so much more. You moan in the sheets, gently rocking yourself back and forth to try and get Yunho to spread your ass more.

“Jesus Christ.” He puts his thumb on your pussy, guiding it against your slit until he finds the bundle of nerves underneath your nylons and underwear. “I can feel how wet you are. You need it real bad, huh?”

His fingers are muted from the layers of clothes, but that doesn’t stop you from whining. You press back until his thumb is hard against you, swiveling your hips for friction. 

“Yesyesyes. So bad. I want your cock.”

His one thumb turns into multiple fingers. You sing with pleasure, showing no shame as you ride his hand until you feel the subtle, but familiar feeling coil in your stomach. Your styled hair is now a mess as it covers your eyes from how hard you’re rocking. Though you can’t see, you can feel the arousal leaking down your thighs and gather at your nylons.

Your orgasm comes quickly. It gets easy to grind on his fingers when your body is desperately chasing the high. “Cumming! Fuckfuckfuck, I'm cumming.”

You lift yourself on your forearms, halting all your movements to let the blinding pleasure wash over you, hot and delicious. Moans tumble past your lips. The tiniest bit of drool seeps from your mouth as you shake. You rock again, this time, to milk out your orgasm to completion. 

But Yunho pulls away.

A desperate cry leaves you. “W-wait. M-more. I want m-”

Familiar hands push you back into the sheets. Yunho holds you by the back of the neck, forcing you to keep your trembling ass in the air. 

Your heart races. More gasps and heavy breaths filter through your chest, but it’s an excitement that bubbles in your stomach. So much adrenaline runs through your body that half of the shaking is from your nerves. 

You just know he’s going to fuck you good.

“You came on my hand and you’re already asking for more?” Yunho tuts. “So impatient, but don’t worry, you’ll get it. Girls like you love cumming their brains out, huh?”

There’s no denying that. You nod in the sheets and whimper a pathetic yes, but Yunho approves nonetheless.

“Yeah, that’s why you’ll take any cock you can get, right? Even if it’s a stranger…” His free hand smoothes over your ass, but once he finds a good grasp on your nylons, he yanks. Your entire body pulls back from the force. You have to grab onto the mattress to not slip off the bed. 

“Even if it’s a man who’s almost twice your age…”

Another harsh yank and you hear fabric tear. Yunho pulls and pulls until your ass and cunt are free from the material. It’s only your underwear in the way, but you doubt that’ll be a problem.

Yunho leans down until he’s at your ear. Your body breaks into chills. He feels everywhere. He is everywhere from how big he is. You know you’re safe, but the thought of being at his mercy heightens your pleasure.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll buy you a new one.” He sweetly pecks your head and pulls away.

You’d laugh from the drastic switch-up, but you moan instead when you feel his fingers at your cunt. He plays with your folds through your panties, poking where your entrance is and smearing the arousal staining the underwear. 

You’ve never been this wet before. It usually takes some lube or way more foreplay, but Yunho turns you on in ways you didn’t believe were possible. His deft fingers and how his brown eyes can be warm but threatening. Everything about him is captivating and you can only hope he thinks the same about you.

With a finger hooking to the side of your panties, he tugs until your bare cunt is finally freed. You clit peeks from your hood, throbbing between your lips desperately. 

For the first time since you’ve met him, you feel nervous. Yunho stares at your pussy longer than you’re used to, making you try and press your thighs together to hide it. 

“Nuh-uh.” He jiggles your ass. “Don’t do that. I wanna see your pussy.”

You whine but obey. You put yourself face-first into the bed, ignoring how your cheeks turn red. 

Soon, the bed shifts weight and you hear the sound of a zipper. You pick up your head to look back, but Yunho forces you to face the bed. 

You pout. “I wanna seeeee.”

“You just want everything, don’t you?” Yunho sounds condescending, but he rewards you with the head of his cock. Your lower lips wrap around his tip when he grinds against your pussy, making sure to keep your underwear out of the way. “You want to cum, you want my dick, you wanna see it…And the worst part is, you’ve got such a pretty pussy that you’ll get everything you want.”

Yunho pulls back just enough to line himself up. You still haven’t gotten over how his tip felt brushing against you. He’s slicked himself up nice and wet to press, intruding on your entrance. 

You squeal. His shape opens you so easily that his size doesn’t sting at all, but makes your brain fuzzy. Though Yunho won’t let you see, you know he’s big. You turn dumb too quickly, chest burning from the oxygen he fucks out of you when he buries himself to the hilt. 

‘Oh my-...fffuucckkkk.”

Yunho groans at your moaning. He opts to hook his thumb in your panties and splay the rest of his fingers on your ass. Messily, he gathers your hair to create a makeshift ponytail with his other hand, forcing your chest up. 

Out... In... Out... In…

The pace is slow, but that doesn't mean it’s dull. Yunho pulls out until his tip is barely inside before pressing back in. When his pelvis is flush against your ass, it has you kicking your feet up and down on the bed from the overwhelming sensation. 

He feels like he’s in your ass. In your throat. You can’t escape how deep Yunho drills into you when he keeps you still by the hair, forcing you to take every unbearable inch.

You love every second of it. 

“Nghhh. Yunnhooo. Fuck meee. Fuck me pleeasseee.”

The sound of your cunt squelching echoes in the room. Yunho grunts at your command, pulling you up a few inches. 

“Yeah, you want it? You want it? Then fucking take it.”

It’s like a switch. That cautious pace turns animalistic, rough, and quick until your breasts manage to slip from the top of your dress and bounce freely. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. There’s no sound until a harsh thrust forces the moan out. Once you start, you can stop. All you can manage are gasps and whines from Yunho’s drive. 

Every vein, every curve doesn’t go unnoticed between your walls. The repeated pistons force you to know his shape. You know he’s carving a place for him. So deep and good that you don’t think you could ever go back to hookups at your university again. 

But it’s Yunho’s tip that does it for you. There’s no you could ever unknow how it kisses your cervix or how the shape digs into you. You can't stop clenching down on it, sucking it back in over and over despite the pleasure overload you’re enduring. 

Your pussy’s in loooove.

The haziness of your mind clears a bit when Yunho pulls you up more. Your fingers barely graze the mattress, but the pain in your scalp feels dull when you look into his eyes.

They’re dark, hungry, and possessive. There’s nothing but carnal desire when you dreamily look up at them, eyes losing focus rather quickly. 

“You’re gonna cum. I fucking know you are. You cunt’s so fucking loud, it’s begging for it again.”

You swoon. Yunho knows he can make you feel good, he can feel it. Something like affection burns in your chest and you look at his pink lips. 

He grins. “You want a kiss?”

You nod, but it must look silly since your entire body is jolting. 

Yunho looks borderline psychotic when he breaks out into a smile. “Fuck. I love how young and stupid your pussy is. I’m gonna cum all over it. You’d like that, huh?”

“Loooveee iiiit.”

Yunho quickens his pace. You swear if you look down, you could see his cock poking through your stomach from the angle. Instead, you’re held to look into his eyes, vision blurring as your second orgasm approaches. It’s so much more intense than your first. Now you have something to clench on. Something to cream on when you inevitably burst. 

And with your crossed eyes looking into his, you do. You feel a burst of warmth from your stomach speedily reach your pussy. It makes you feel hot, the even hotter arousal pooling down your thighs and onto Yunho’s cock.

He moans above you. His hips grow sloppy, hitting different parts of your cunt that have you squealing. Yunho doesn’t break eye contact when he stills in you, dick throbbing as his cum shoots inside. 

The two of you stay moaning into each other's mouths, lips a mere inch away until he finally gives you what you want. The kiss is sloppy, full of breaths and moans as you messily shove tongues inside.

He swipes the inside of your cheek. He twists his tongue with yours until salvia trickles down your chin. You suck on his muscle and he does the same, pulling away with a wet smack that leaves you buzzing.

Yunho stares at you for a beat, eyes blinking as he comes to a sudden realization. “I think I'll keep you.” 

You don’t have the energy to respond, but you're thinking the same thing.

[l0lita-luv]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ “Polar Opposites!!”

Fluff+Smut!!

Summary-Some fluffy hcs about you and Vi, along with other arcane characters. And some sweet sex at the end.

Warnings-Use of y/n, reader is described as hyper!fem, Powder still exists, Caitlyn is a friend, Vander, Mylo, & Claggor are still alive, Switch!Vi, Mostly Sub!reader, Fingering R!receiving, Oral R!receiving, pet names: Angel, baby, sweet sex :)

a/n- Wrote this before act lll came out so…

men dni!!

Sfw!!

Vi has always loved the way you dressed. Your frilly dresses and skirts, not to mention your adorable little shirts. When she first saw you, she just knew she had to have you!

When the two of you met, she was wandering the streets of Piltover going to visit Caitlyn. But when she saw you struggling to carry your groceries, she sprinted to help you

“Hey! Uhm-let me help you with that!” Vi said nervously, “Oh thank you so much!” You beamed at Vi’s kindness. She almost melted when she saw your adorable smile.

“You ok?” You asked snapping Vi out of her trance, “Oh yeah! Uh no problem!” Vi stumbled helping you carry your groceries to your car.

“Could I maybe get your number?” You both asked in unison.

Everyone who knows her is so sick of hearing about you, specifically Powder

“Did you see what she wore today? It looked great on her right?” Vi said rambling to Powder once again, “Mhm…she looked great Vi.” Powder said her voice dripping in annoyance. Sighing as Vi opened her mouth once again.

But when everyone meets you they understand why Vi is so utterly in love

When Powder sees you she’s just so stunned by your clothes, hair and everything about you!

She’s tries to contain herself from stealing the bow in your hair

When Claggor and Mylo meet you, their very akward

Stumbling over their words, and saying things most would find offensive!

Vi was obviously staring them down the whole time

When you first met Caitlyn, you were a bit scared of her…why? Well because of the amount of stories Vi has told her about you, you were afraid you would make a horrible first impression

But when Caitlyn greeted you with a warm smile and a hug, you knew everything was fine.

Overall, everyone loves you

She also likes how your style and hers clash

Def calls you angel, doll, and love

She tries to act tough whenever the two of you are out but behind closed doors, she’s such a sap

Buys you whatever you want!

“Baby…can I get this?” You ask holding up a pair of heels. “Of course you can! They would look great on you.” Vi responds looking at the price tag nervously.

But it was worth it! Because let’s just say you payed her back…

Nsfw!!

Absolutely loves when you wear skirts and dresses

Lowkey gets annoyed when you try to take it off

“Babe-“ Vi tries to speak between kisses, tugging your skirt up. “Keep it on!” Vi manages to get out.

You love when Vi gets like this, you pay her no mind continuing to grind on her lap making her groan as you took your shirt off.

You were so focused on teasing her you didn’t even notice when she took of your panties, until she slipped in a finger only to pull out and rub your clit sweetly. “Vi!” You squeak, “Please…”

She only smiles at you, flipping the two of you over so that you can be under her. Quickly taking off her shirt.

“What do you want Angel?” Vi asks taking one of your nipples between her fingertips pinching them, making you whine. “Y-your mouth…” You whisper loud enough for her to hear.

Vi chuckles softly at your desperation, leaning forward to kiss you making her way down to your throbbing cunt. Almost immediately getting to work, she was eating you like you were her last meal. “Oh!” You yelp, reaching for Vi’s hair tugging her head closer. If even possible, she starts moving her tongue even faster making your moans louder.

You practically start screaming when she enters a finger pumping it in and out gently, looking up at you. “Think you can take another Angel?” Vi asks sweetly her face still buried in your cunt. “Yes!” You whimper your legs beginning to twitch. Vi gently slipping in another finger, her pace being generous.

“Vi…” You whisper, “Hm?” “Kiss me…” You whine. Vi comes back up, her fingers still moving. Leaning down to kiss you passionately, “I love you Angel.” Vi says, reaching for your hand, holding it. Your grip became tighter as you came undone, moaning into her mouth. “I love you too baby.” You respond back, catching your breath.

[postracehair]

altitude

max verstappen x reader | 1.5k

you hate flying. but it's a necessity if you want to see max during the f1 season. when you finally fly home together during a break, will you let him help calm you down?

cw: r hates flying, anxiety, kissing, like, lots of kissing, worried max, allusions to more than kissing, fluff, george/carmen cameo

a/n: she's so me! i hate flying! but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do! wrote this way back after brazil, but have it now as a race week gift.

--

Everything changes very quickly after you meet Max Verstappen.

You are pulled into a world of action and luxury all because he wants you there. And you go willingly because you want to be with him, too. How could you not? The world famous champion is a kind, funny, and sweet man who loves his cats, his friends, and, as is becoming clear, you.

Much of the start of your relationship is scheduling. A day here and there between races, dinners and walks and movies at his place or yours. You spend a lot of time in airports when you can, working on the go and white knuckling your way through flight after flight. It's worth it to see him on the other side.

Somehow, you've never actually travelled together.

Until now.

The race weekend ends the best way possible -- the top step of the podium. A night of celebrations fades into an early morning flight on a private jet and this time, you're coming with. Because Max has three weeks off. He'll have to work, of course, spending time in Milton Keynes before the final stretch of the season, but for the most part you're going to have him all to yourself.

It does not occur to you until you're in the car on the way to the tarmac that Max has no idea how much you hate flying. You're in one of those big Sprinter vans, head on Max's shoulder as he scrolls through his phone. George and Carmen sit on the other side, the former's head tipped back as he dozes. Everyone is quiet and you're working a bit hard to keep yourself calm.

"What is it?" Max whispers. He puts his phone down and you look over at him. His hair is a mess, you can see that much even in the low light of the van. You reach out and run a hand through it.

"What?" you whisper back.

He shakes his head a little and wraps his fingers around your wrist. "You were all loose and then you got tense."

The frequent distance between you and the busy nature of your schedules demands that communication be top of mind. You do not lie to each other about your feelings, and you do not hide things. Even things like this.

"I don't really like flying," you say, softly. "I've never told you because we've never flown together. It just makes me kind of anxious. I've never been able to shake it."

His brows furrow. "Really?"

"I'll be fine," you assure him. "Just, maybe hold my hand during takeoff and landing. And if there is any turbulence."

"But -- I don't understand. Are you afraid?"

You know that there is really no way to make him understand but also that he won't stop trying to. Max gets afraid, he gets nervous. He's only human. But he combats it with sheer willpower, focus, and skill.

"I fly this way all the time," he says, urgent this time. "It's totally safe."

"That's not -- Max, I just get nervous. It's not really to do with safety. I just don't really enjoy it."

"Oi," George says, rousing. "What are you two yapping about?"

"Go back to snoring, George," Max says, not taking his eyes off you.

"Do I really snore?" you hear him ask in a hushed tone. Carmen shushes him.

"Pulling up to the plane now, folks," the driver calls back.

"Seriously," Max says, sounding a little desperate. "It'll be alright."

"I know. I fly all the time, Max." His frown deepens.

"To come see me," he reminds you. "If I knew you didn't like it, I would have --"

"What?" you interrupt. "Invented teleportation? It's okay, Max. Knowing it's to see you makes the whole thing easier, honestly."

This does not satisfy him. You can tell. It's a problem he can't solve -- his least favorite kind. There is no simulation to run for this, no meeting he can talk through, no track he can circle a thousand times.

The van door opens and you're all beckoned out onto the tarmac. You follow George and Carmen with your bag and Max is at your heels, his duffle slung over one shoulder and his other hand on the small of your back. Normally, he's not this touchy, but he seems reluctant to let your conversation in the van go.

"Max--"

"I'm thinking, liefje."

You roll your eyes. "About how to invent teleportation?"

"Something like that," he grumbles.

The jet is narrow, an aisle on one side and four rows of seats on the other. Four sets of two, a table between them. Carmen and George settle into one nook and you toss your bags into another. You slide into the window seat and Max sits heavily in the one next to you, still frowning. You let him, instead looking around to absorb the new experience.

It's much nicer than a regular plane, that's for sure. There is a cooler stocked with drinks and a cabinet full of what seems to be snacks. You can stretch your legs to rest your feet on the seat across from you. It's so early you figure all of you will just sleep, though Max's mood seems at odds with that plan.

The pilot introduces herself and gives a quick rundown of the route and airtime. You all nod and smile and then the doors close and the lights dim.

Max's hand finds yours immediately. You sit up a little and look over at him. He looks even more frazzled than he did at the hotel, when you both rolled out of bed and into comfy clothes. Soft pants and a hoodie that make him look boyish, younger than he is. But here, his cheeks are a little flushed and his jaw is set like he's about to get in his race car.

"What do you do normally?" he asks, softly. You can hear George's soft snores already. "When I'm not there."

"Max," you sigh.

"Tell me, please?"

The seat shifts under you as it heads for the runway. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

"Well, I don't hold some random guy's hand," you tease. He squeezes your palm and huffs. 

"He could be so lucky."

The plane comes to a stop and you know what happens next. Your mind remains preoccupied with Max -- a good thing, right now -- but your body tenses and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter as the engines kick up and you pick up speed.

Max says your name but you don't budge. "Liefje," he whispers, much closer than before. You can feel his breath on your cheek as he gently holds your chin with two fingers and turns your face towards him.

And then he's kissing you. A closed mouth press of his lips to yours, firm but still. At least until you sigh into it, releasing your death grip on the arm rest to reach for him blindly, your tangled fingers between you. The kiss deepens, his nose sliding against yours as you part your lips and the chaste press becomes more. Max's tongue licks into your mouth leisurely, like he has all the time in the world to explore you. 

You kiss and kiss and kiss, so long that a voice in your head wonders if maybe you can do this for the whole flight, please? Max tugs your legs across his until you're practically in his lap, spread across the two seats like they're one.

"We're reached cruising altitude," the speakers crackle. "Feel free to move about, but please be mindful."

Max pulls away, a strand of spit glistening between you until he wipes it away with a smirk. His hair is even messier than before and his cheeks are pink. Lips swollen, eyes glassy -- you must look the same. Your heart is racing and you laugh, breathless.

"Well," Max says, then swallows. His voice is raspy, hoarse with desire. "Guess you have to fly with me from now on."

"Max." You pitch forward and settle where his neck and shoulder meet and inhale. His arms wrap around you and he holds you close. You can hear his heart racing just as fast as yours.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles. "I know."

"I can do it," you remind him. "I do it all the time. I just don't like it, that's all."

You feel the press of his lips on your hair.

"I just don't like that I can't fix it," he says. "I can't get inside your head and make you know it's alright."

"No, you can't," you sigh. The plane jerks just a little -- a swoop of your stomach that has you gasping. Max's hold on you tightens and he says your name.

"How do you do this alone?" he rasps, mouth next to your ear as he rubs your back.

"I close my eyes," you say, taking deep breaths. "And I imagine you with me."

He curses softly. "We should get a jet by ourselves next time," he mutters. "Then I can really distract you."

That gets you to laugh, though you can't say you hate the idea. It makes you feel warm, makes you press your thighs together.

"Next time," you echo. "But for now..."

Max cups your jaw and ghosts his nose over yours. "For now..."

He brings your lips together.

[bananayuyu]

all tied up {part 2}

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: angst, eventual smut

Word count: 11.9k

Summary: You never thought you'd have such an awful rivalry with a coworker. How is he so mean, so petty, so under your skin...?

Warnings: smut, MDNI, mentions of reader wanting to die and past traumas, dub con/non con, reader is physically bound against her will, mean yunho, nipple play, fingering, unprotected penetration, after care of sorts

A/n: I hope you all enjoy the depravity! (and again please read the warnings and don't read this if you aren't in the right headspace <3)

Read part 1 here

Read it on ao3

That toe box.  That stupid fucking toe box… 

"YUNHO, LET ME GO!!" you scream, punching a hand into his side and making him sag ever so slightly.

"Fucking hell, give me a second," he replies, finally slinging you back over his shoulder to your feet.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!" you scream, shoving him as hard as you can, and he rocks back onto his other foot, destabilized only for a second.

"Calm down, Jesus Christ," he snaps, and you move to dart around him, towards the front door you were just dragged through. He's too quick though and grabs you by the arm, your shoulder crashing into the wall as he awkwardly halts your movements. "Y/n, seriously, calm the fuck down." His tone is harsh, low and demanding, and the turn of events has so shocked you, you feel like you might puke.

"You just kidnapped me, and you're telling me to calm down??" you spit, your shoulder stinging from the impact of the wall.

"I saved you from that horrible weather, actually. Not safe for a girl like you to be out there right now," he replies, a chilling smirk on his lips.

"Oh fuck off, you fucking creep," you mutter, desperately trying to free your arm from his grasp.

"Listen I know it's a bit extreme, but you kept ignoring me, and I want to talk. So I did what I had to do, to make that happen," he replies, his voice uncomfortably smooth.

"Yunji is right, you're a fucking sociopath," you respond, eyeing him sharply.

"Yunji?" he asks, his eyebrows cocked.

"Yunji, my best friend, my roommate, who will be very concerned if I don't return home soon. So you'd better fucking let me go, if you don't want the police called," you say, words fiery and sharp as they exit your mouth.

"Why don't you text her and let you know you got caught in the storm, and a kind neighbor let you into their place for protection," he smiles, shaking his head at you like you're dumb.

"Fuck you, fuck offf," you mutter as you knee him hard in the side, managing to pull your arm free for a moment and stumbling towards his front door once again. But again somehow he's faster than you, despite the wind being slightly knocked out of him, and he puts himself between you and the door with a loud slam, your body smashing into his, hard. His right hand moves behind him to slide closed the deadbolt, his broad frame guarding the door, creating a barrier you certainly won't be able to break through.

"You're making this very difficult, y/n," he scolds, shaking his head again.

"ME?? I'M MAKING THIS DIFFICULT??" you scream, falling to the floor in desperation, your mind running out of ideas. The only one that's left is his backdoor, which you know is likely to be locked; but you realize it's truly your last hope, your only remaining option. With a sharp inhale you steady yourself, launching down a hallway you see that leads in that general direction, turning the corner abruptly when you hit a wall, seeing another hallway branching off with more doors leading to other rooms. You continue down this hallway too, even though it's running towards the side of the house, because you really don't have another choice and have no idea where any of these doors might lead you. You're running hard, as hard as you can, bumping into walls and nearly stumbling over a slight blip in the old hardwood floor, catching yourself in time to keep running. You round another corner into what looks like a den, and then you spot it, sliding glass doors that lead to his backyard. You're almost there, your legs only propelled by your adrenaline, and you know he's hot on your trail, his hard footsteps echoing ominously behind you. Sliding the door will open will be awkward, you know that, but you have to try-

You're grabbed again, this time tackled to the ground, a hand coming around your ankle and holding it tight as you flail your other leg, making contact with some part of Yunho's body. Your huge winter coat is making it hard to move around on the floor, your body limited by the layers of clothing and the crumpled position you're currently pinned in.

"Yunho, please, just fucking let me go," you beg, your throat hoarse from your screaming earlier, your lungs lacking capacity from your running. "I promise, I'll talk to you tomorrow, I promise, just please, let me go, please, please." You sound so pathetic, so scared, because you are. You've never felt like this, scared for your life and unsure you'll make it through the rest of the day alive.

"Don't make promises you can't fucking keep," Yunho grumbles, moving on top of you to pin you even tighter, both of your legs awkwardly bent under his and your upper body held down by his arms. His face is only inches from yours now, closer than it's ever been, and you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to see what you know is a horrifying look in his eyes.

"No I'm serious, I will talk to you, I promise, I-"

"No you won't. I know you fucking won't," he spits, adjusting his grip on your arms as if he's trying to remind you how trapped you are. "You'd make your mind up, hadn't you? You'd decided you'd much rather we both lose our jobs than you having to speak to me again. You were gonna give up. You weren't going to talk to me tomorrow, or the next day, or ever. If I let you go now, that wouldn't fucking change. Don't lie to me, y/n. I'm not stupid."

Your snarky reply gets lost in your throat, because the way he's read you so easily is utterly disturbing.

"What, are you shocked that I'm right? You're not that hard to read, doll," he continues, chuckling deeply.  But I am, to everyone else, you think. You've always been able to hide your intentions easily. Your side is starting to throb, his elbow digging into your ribs, and his words have lit another fire in you, one that comes from the visceral fear that's consuming you.

You snap your head up and bite hard on his shoulder, the only part of him other than his face that you can reach. You're more forceful than even you expect, immediately tasting blood, and it makes you bite even harder, Yunho letting out a sudden cry of pain.

"Fuck, you fucking bi-"

You cut him off with a knee to the groin, the pain from your bite having loosened his nerve enough for you to do so. It weakens him even more, and you're able to move your hips out from under him, painfully wrenching yourself free from his grasp and doing anything you can to inflict pain on his perfect body. You can feel it now that he's on top of you, the curves and lines and hints of lean muscle, and it pisses you off all over again. You're clawing at him, scratching and biting and kicking every which way. His breath is knocked out of him so you both are just breathing heavily, his body grunting with every painful blow, your own voice erupting in a growl when you finally free yourself from him and manage to miraculously make it to your feet.

You're running back the way you came now, back towards the front door which you know how to unlock, a cramp forming sharp in your side from the exertion. You hear his footsteps behind you again, and you know it's a last-ditch effort, but you try with all your might to run as fast as you possibly can. Suddenly you feel your left arm tugged back, your body jolting awkwardly as he makes contact with you, but he's only able to get a good hold on the sleeve of your coat, which now is painfully snaking down your arm and falling off your shoulder. You wrench your arm free from it, spinning to free your other arm too, feeling unburdened now without your coat and able to sprint fast again. As you round the corner you see the front door, the dark stained wood ominous, a warning against entering. Or leaving, you suppose. The whole house is dark, little light coming in from the windows because of the now raging storm, and for the first moment since you've entered Yunho's house you notice a bright flash that must be lightning, followed by a loud rumble of thunder. You know it should be louder, it sounded mere moments after the flash meaning the strike was somewhere nearby, but the snow is just that thick right now, even the deafening sound got lost in it. You wonder if you'll even be able to open the door against the winds and what must be harsh rain, and tears start coming fast down your cheeks as your fears reach new heights. Even if you make it out of here you've got the elements to deal with, and suddenly storming out that door doesn't sound so good. For a brief moment it's almost like you're begging for it, begging for him to grab you again so you don't have to face the reality outside.

Even if it'd only been a passing thought, Yunho answers your sadistic prayer, finally making contact with you again when you're only five feet from the door, his hand crushing as it grips down on your upper arm. You shriek, your shoulder screaming so severely in pain you're worried he's dislocated it. You both awkwardly crash towards the ground again, Yunho coming to his knees as he tries to prevent the fall, your legs sweeping out from under you as you lose your balance. You're still fighting fiercely, and you feel ridiculous for wishing for this now. You'd give anything to be in that fierce, terrifying storm right now, instead of being dragged by your arm and your hair down his hallway, making dents in the walls with your feet as you struggle against his firm grip.

"You're making this really fucking difficult, y/n," he growls, breathing hard from carrying the weight of an entire human down his short hallway. "I don't think you realize how true that is." You're still screaming in pain, tears streaming down your face in waves now as the follicles of your hair are nearly ripped out. "We could have done this another way, but you just had to fucking fight me, as always. I should have known you'd pull some shit like this," he spits, his voice low. You have no idea where you're going, your vision clouded with your tears. Eventually you year a door knob turned, Yunho yanking you hard and turning you around, your legs catching painfully underneath you.

"Ah!" you scream in pain, using your free hand to wipe the tears and snot from your face and finally try to get a good look around you.

"Shut up, this is your fault," he responds, his tone cold in that way that it so often is. It feels so weird to be with him outside of work, the feeling hitting you suddenly as you're finally able to get a glimpse of him; turning your head you see a desk, a dresser, a closet door...

You can only see a glimpse of his bed when you turn to the side, but it's enough to confirm you're in his bedroom. It adds to the fear in you, that you're both in the place he feels most comfortable, that he's confident enough to show you his place of rest. Is he going to kill you? You really wouldn't have pegged him as the type, even if he was an asshole at work; your jokes with Yunji about him being sociopathic were hyperbole, at the time, at least.

"Are you going to kill me?" you ask, finding a strength within yourself that surprises you. 

"No," he grunts, his body pinning you down as he reaches under his bed, the position twisting his torso and making his breathing uneven.

"Then what the hell are you doing?" you ask, trying to even out your breathing yourself. Your lungs feel exhausted from screaming, but at least now he isn't dragging you by your hair, so your scalp is getting a break from the severe pain. He doesn't answer you, shoving his arm further under, and then in a flash you see what he's pulled out, in moments feeling it against the skin of your left wrist.

The black rope is even and soft, clearly made for use in the bedroom. It would make you laugh, cause you to poke fun at him, normally, but in this instance your blood runs cold as you feel him forcefully anchor the wrist in place, tying it to something behind you in a way that makes it totally immovable. You struggle against him as he reaches for your other arm, but with the way he has you pinned there's only one outcome to this, and soon your other wrist is being tied down too, right next to your first one. You're well and truly trapped now, not able to move your arms at all, and with them tied behind your back it's hard to move the rest of your upper body.

With another grunt Yunho finishes securing his knots, your arms tied to one of his bed posts, your legs awkwardly folded under you. You look so pathetic and vulnerable in this state, and it makes him feel things he knows he shouldn’t, something that makes his pants feel tighter than they should. Your whole face is a mess from crying, your hair disheveled and tangly; he's never seen you in such a state, so messed up and powerless and ragged.

"Well, here we are," he says, standing up and walking back to the entrance of his room, putting several feet between you as he stares you down, arms crossed.

"What do you want?" you snap, frustrated and disgusted that you can't wipe the small trail of snot that's currently leaving your nose.

"I just want to talk, y/n. I'm not planning on killing you, I'm not that kind of person. I can't believe you'd even ask that," he responds, looking at you sternly.

"YOU FUCKING TIED ME UP, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK?!!" you scream, your body lurching forward with the force of your words. The binding on your wrists squeezes painfully when you do so, and your face scrunches up in agony for a moment, as you set yourself back in place in a slightly more comfortable position.

"May I remind you again, this is all your own fault. You wouldn't talk to me, and like I said, I'm not giving up on this job easily. So tell me, why do you hate me so much?" he asks you, narrowing his eyes and crossing one foot in front of the other in a casual, confident stance.

"Cause you're an asshole??" you say, narrowing your eyes back at him, cocking your head to the side.

"And you're not?" he asks, smirking.

"You know I'm not," you growl, eyebrows furrowed together deeply. "You fucking know I'm not, I'm a fucking angel, actually, and everyone in that damn office loves me, and I never start shit with anyone. You know damn well that you started this, you did, you like messing with me and seeing me suffer, it must be entertaining to you cause your life is so fucking stuffy and perfect and boring. I mean those fucking suits you wear, to our simple little government-funded office. Where do you get off dressing like that??"

"I could ask you the same thing," he quips, raising his eyebrows momentarily. You eye him sharply, the question in your gaze obvious. "Your clothes, y/n, I can't believe Mr. Kangsoo lets you wear skirts that short in the office. Or tight shirts with no bra."

"He's probably never even thought about it, because he's never sexualized me like a fucking creep," you respond, face flushed from the idea that Yunho was looking at you like that for all of these months. It's mortifying, horrifying, and makes you feel suddenly so sick in your body, like you wish you could jump out of it. But you also can't deny that you've looked at him that way too, that the suits do it for you in a way that's almost embarrassing.

"I'm not a creep, I've just never had a boss who allows that," he says, sighing. "I can't deny that it's distracting." The words shutter through you, adding to the sick feeling growing in your low gut. It makes tears form in your eyes again too, from how humiliated you feel by his admission, that every day in the office when he was tormenting you, he was also gawking over your body in this way.

"You're so fucking gross," you mutter, looking at the ground in front of you, adjusting yourself again as your legs begin to ache from the position you're sitting in.

"What else do you think of me?" he prompts, loving to watch you squirm around in clear discomfort on the floor.

"I'm- this is so fucking disturbing Yunho, you're- I'm gonna-" you stop yourself from saying 'report this to the police,' because that visceral fear that he might kill you is still there. Even if he isn't planning on doing it, you don't want to say or do anything that might motivate him to, so you let the words die on your tongue, awkwardly huffing out the breath you'd just taken. Your gaze jumps around, but finds his face again fast, your mind working hard to try to understand what the hell is happening. Does he really just want to talk? Everything he's done seems too severe to be justified by just that, but you've found him hard to read since you met him. As you gaze at his face you see a smile on his lips, a smile that's revealed a small dimple on his left cheek and almost looks sweet. "Why the hell are you smiling?" you snap, your look severe and threatening.

"I'm just glad we're finally talking," he sighs, crossing his feet in the opposite direction. You just fix with him with a look of disgust, not wanting to speak anymore if that's truly what's bringing him joy in this moment. He knows saying that will shut you up for a bit, but he's okay with that, having things of his own that he needs to get off his chest. Now that the two of you are finally alone, away from the office, he can say the things that he's wondered for months.

"Y/n, can I ask you a question?" he starts, but he doesn't wait for an answer before barreling on. "Did you get into our field because you yourself deal with mental health issues, or have some big trauma from your past? I only ask, because, well, everyone at my last office fit that description, and I'm pretty sure everyone at our's does too, even Jongho. Everyone had to go to therapy as a kid, or in college cause of severe anxiety, and that's what led them to wanting to work in this field. Am I right, that that's true for you too?"

Your eyes remain fixed on him but you don't move your head for a second, not nodding or shaking it in an answer. The glassiness that forms in your eyes, though, is impossible to cover up, and Yunho can see from the tears starting to form that he's entirely, absolutely correct.

"You're very neurotic, do you know that?" he continues, and his question almost sounds genuine. "I mean, me hiding your favorite mug has you angry enough to slam the dishwasher closed? That mug isn't even yours, it's a part of the set that Dr. Acharya got the office two years ago as a Christmas present, meaning it belongs to everyone at the office. At least, that's what you told me my first day.  Sure, everyone has their favorite mugs, but no one is as obsessively possessive about it as you are. The littlest things set you off, stuff that shouldn't even affect you. What does it matter that I hid the mug? Who the fuck cares what mug you use? You dropped Jongho's favorite mug two months ago and it smashed everywhere, and he didn't freak out about it. He just started using a different one. Did you even know that was his favorite one? No, because he didn't insist on using it every day. Do you realize how ridiculous all of your little routines and patterns are? It's like if everything doesn't go exactly how you want it to, you'll die."

"No, that's you," you sob, his words pulling emotions out of you that you can't even describe.  He's the rich spoiled boy, he's the one who's never been told no in his life. He's the one who can't take disturbance to his needs, not you, not you, not me...

Your gut roils at his insult, and you realize in an instant that he's absolutely right, and that probably everyone at the office has thought that about you for years, but tolerated it anyway. Tears flow down your cheeks fast, and god you wish you could somehow wriggle your arms free, and punch that pretty face of his to make him shut up. 

"That's not me, actually. I do just fine dealing with whatever comes up at the office each day. I can even handle our arguments just fine, and don’t walk around with a scowl on my face all day. You know everyone is fucking scared to talk to you when you do that, right?"

"Shut up, shut up!!" you scream, the pain in your head growing the more you think about all your failings, all the ways you've fucked up in the last six months. That awful feeling of shame you were so scared to face earlier is hitting you now, and just like you thought, the pain is so bad that you don't think you're going to come out the other side of it alive.

"Don't tell me to shut up just cause I'm right, y/n. Fucking listen and take accountability for once," he snaps, his face more like anger now that you're yelling at him again, instead of just talking. "I don't think you understand how easy it's been for me to read you, since the moment I started at that job. Am I wrong for liking it when something I do pisses you off? Maybe, I can't help that it's fun. I could see this whole conflict unfolding from the first day you turned cold with me, and I knew that there wasn't a fucking thing I could do to stop that. So I thought I'd just let it happen, and try my best to enjoy the ride. I can't change the fact that you're so caught up in your own head that you ca-"

"AAHHHHHHHH!!!!" you scream, just to drown out the noise, just to make the pain in your head stop. The scream is guttural, loud and painful as it exits your throat, but you keep screaming until your lungs are empty because the relief it's providing you is at least something. When you run out of air you take another ragged breath in and then you scream again, this time the sound harsher, your throat struggling to handle it. Tears are forming and streaming down your face faster than they ever have, and your body jerks against the ropes on your wrists, as you try to muster all your strength and somehow finally break free. Unable to do so, you scream again, eyes closed as you heave from the pain, your skin no doubt damaged from rope burn.

"Y/n, y/n, calm down," you hear, Yunho's voice soft and close to you. A hand comes to brush the tears from your cheek, but you jerk away violently, your wrists snagging painfully on the rope at a different angle this time.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" you cry, but it comes out softer than intended because your throat is already so worn, and you cough hard on your next inhale.

"Y/n, seriously, take a deep breath, stop," Yunho says, backing up slightly and not touching you again, but still sitting himself close enough to you that you can feel his presence, feel the warmth radiating off his body. The shock of it makes you realize just how cold you are, only a thin long sleeve shirt on now that your coat has been discarded somewhere in the hall.

"SHUT UP, GET THE FUCK AWAY!!" you cry again, wincing hard from the pain in our throat, your breaths ragged as you try to recover from the pain and ready yourself to scream again.

"Y/n..." he warns, but you just scream again, so entirely afraid of the feelings inside that you can't think to do anything else. "I SAID, STOP!" he finally yells, and the force of it is so strong that it nearly knocks you back, all the breath in your lungs leaving immediately.

You stare at him wide eyed, seeing now that he's crouched down on the floor, about five feet from you. The fear is evident in your gaze, and so is the fact that you're holding your breath and you have absolutely no idea.

"You should breathe, you know," he says, his voice suddenly back to the neutral tone of earlier. You snap back into your body for a moment, shakily taking in the breath your lungs were crying for, and you notice you're shaking, aches and pains searing through almost every part of you. "You don't know what's good for you, do you?" he continues, coming to sit cross legged in front of you, his arms resting on his legs and his hands clasped together. You wriggle in front of him, wincing as you try to move your aching leg to a more comfortable position. You struggle to find it, getting stuck in a spot that's even worse, and you sigh in frustration. "Just sit cross-legged, it'll be more comfortable," he sighs, moving forward towards you, with his hands outstretched. You lurch away from his touch again, and he sits back down, sighing harder. "I was going to help you change your sitting position, cause I know it's hard to do with your arms bound," he says, and you don't have time to wonder why he knows that. You stare back with a hardened gaze, eyes piercing daggers into him. "Will you let me help you?" he asks, and it's the first time all conversation that his tone has changed in that way; it's softer, warmer, and for a moment makes your chest flutter. You don't answer him again, you just stare and stare and try to make sense of his words, but somehow he can tell you won't fight him now, and he moves forward to help you, holding your body up just enough so you can swing your legs under you in this different way.

Once you're sitting you do feel relief, your knees thanking you now that they aren't bearing the majority of your weight, your ankles thankful that they're resting at a much more natural angle.

"You need to stop fighting me, and fighting those ropes, or you're just gonna keep hurting yourself," he says, voice calm.

"I didn't fucking agree to this!" you snap, your changing feelings giving you whiplash. "You've tied me up against my will, Yunho, or did you somehow forget? This isn't some cute little scene I agreed to, you forced this on me!" you yell, trying hard to be forceful without hurting your throat again.

"And it's going to be good for you in the long run, if you'd just relax and stop fighting me. Have you considered that maybe I know what's best?" He quirks a brow, eyeing you now from only two feet away, that heat still radiating off of him. Noticing it again you begin to shiver, your body shaking involuntarily. Your muscles feel tight and painful from the restriction, and the cold isn't helping one bit.

"How the fuck is tying me up against my will good for me?" you spit, leaning forward every so slightly now that you can.

"I know you don't want to lose that job," he says, eyeing you intensely, his gaze boring into you. "I know that job means everything to you. And I know that if I didn't intervene, you would have lost it. You were too scared to come talk to me. You were never going to admit to your part in our arguments, to your fault. You clearly have too much pride to admit any wrongdoing, almost ever."

It really is sick how right he is about everything, and you begin to wonder if he somehow can read minds.

"Listen, I will let you go later, you have my word. I'm not gonna kill you. But I'm pretty sure this is the only way I could ever get you to apologize to me, and without doing that, we would never be able to resolve this." His eyes still haven't left yours, and this close you can see the details of his iris, the stubble on his cheeks and chin, and the small birth mark on the side of his jaw. It makes you sick, he makes you sick, every little perfect thing about him.

"Look, I'll start. I'm sorry for hiding your mug, I'm sorry for leaving you little notes, which were really just jokes but I know you took them offensively, I'm sorry for being hard on you in the admin meetings. I'm sorry for pissing you off and finding it funny. None of that was cool."

"That wasn't a very good apology," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"Still better than no apology at all," he replies, and you can't help but roll them again. "Did you hear what I said earlier, when you were screaming?" he asks, and you shake your head. "I was saying, I think you were so caught up in your head and convinced that I was out to get you, that you didn't realize in all those little notes I was trying to let you know that I like you."

"You have a funny way of showing it," you say, huffing in anger.

"Was it not obvious?" he asks.

"Was what not obvious?"

"That I like you."

"You insulted me in every single one!"

"I called you pretty in every single one."

"Yeah, in an insulting, 'you're pretty and stupid and don't know shit' kind of way."

"I never meant it like that. That was your interpr-"

"Sure." You roll your eyes hard again, sighing in exasperation.

"Don't interrupt me," he retorts, eyes hard.

"I'll do what I fucking want," you reply, exhausted by the conversation now, losing control of yourself.

"I think you're forgetting how vulnerable you are right now," he responds, scooting forward enough so that he can reach behind you and tug on the ropes, both checking that they're still secured and reminding you just how trapped you are.

I don't care anymore, you think, dropping your head, and it almost feels like your body has given in now. It's not that the fight is gone, but something about the change in position has your body relaxed, now that no part of you is actively getting hurt by your sitting position.

"What was that?" Yunho asks, his voice soft.

"Huh?" you snap your head up, eye him with confusion.

"Did you just say you don't care anymore?" Your eyes go slightly wide, realizing you'd said that aloud and not just in your head to yourself. You nod in response, eyes stuck on him, on the black hair that's fallen in his face, on the way his hand frantically pushes it away. "What do you mean?"

"I don't care, hurt me, do whatever, I don't care," you say, body relaxing in defeat.

"No, no we're not doing that," he says, and you squint at him in frustration. "You always just give up when things are hard, or when you think you'll fail. It's fucking pathetic."

Tears are back in your eyes, and you look at the floor in front of you, the small expanse of wood separating the two of you.

"I know, I FUCKING KNOW I'M PATHETIC, IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT ME TO SAY?!" you scream, frustration boiling up again.

"Yes, it is," he says with a satisfied smile.

"You want me to just tear myself down in front of you, is that it??"

"Finally you're understanding," he sighs, looking you over with what almost could be pride.

"Fuck you," you mutter, trying to bring yourself down from yet another surge in adrenaline.

"Fucking apologize. Tell me what you did wrong. I'm tired of waiting," he snaps, and the words feel like they lance through you. It makes you notice your body again, notice the way you're shaking hard from the cold.

"I'm fucking freezing Yunho," you say, tone begging him to take mercy on you.

"I know, I can see you shivering. Apologize to me and I'll get you a blanket," he spits.

"No," you whine, your body pleading with you, desperately wanting relief from the cold.

"Your nipples are so hard I can see them through your shirt." He's smirking, staring unabashedly at your chest, and it makes you scream again, writhing around with that unbridled anger, making your body hurt again. 

"Y/n, y/n, fucking hell," Yunho lurches forward to grab onto you, physically forcing you to stop moving, stop hurting yourself even more. His arms are wrapped around you, your head pulled into his chest, and you can smell him now, the faint musk coming from under his arms, the slight sour edge making your head feel funny.

"You lied to boss," you rasp out, voice muffled against his chest.

"What?" he asks, settling down to now hold you in place.

"You said you weren't attracted to me.  In the meeting." He just grunts in response, so ambiguously that you can't tell if he's agreeing or not. "Is that not what you meant by, 'I like you'?

"It is," he replies, sighing.

"Then why did you lie?" you ask, surprised he would do that in front of your boss, even given the nature of the question.

"Cause you did first," he responds, matter of factly.

"I didn't lie," you mutter, holding your eyes closed, your head still feeling funny as you try to shake free whatever feelings are enveloping you.

"You either lied to him, or to yourself," he says, finally pulling back, seeming to trust that you won't flail around again. But the slightest muscle twitch of your arm has his grip back on you in seconds, and you just sit there staring up at him, his hands gripping your arms tight to keep you from pulling on the ropes. "Which was it?"

"Stop," you whisper, harshly, your spit spraying in his face. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, eyeing you harshly, something clicking into place behind his eyes.

"You're really gonna make me fucking do this, aren't you," he grumbles, almost like it's just to himself. He shakes his head, sighing sharply, and you eye him with worry. He looks half disappointed, but half amused, and once he picks his hand up and flicks your already-hard nipple, the look becomes pure amusement just from your reaction.

"Ahh," you involuntarily moan, mortified at the sounds that just left your lips.

"You're sensitive," he chuckles, pinching the other harshly, making your whole body jolt in reaction.

"Yunho, stop, please, please," you beg, the pathetic, pleading look in your eye making his whole body react.

"If you'd just do what I ask, you could avoid these things," he chuckles, roughly pinching both of them now. Your back arches, and you fight to keep your breathing steady and not make any more embarrassing noises. But the pain and pleasure he's causing you is making it hard, and small gasps and whines leave your throat. "I think some part of you wanted this, though," he chuckles.

When he pulls back he's eyeing your arms, and the look of resolve and certainty in his eyes has you panicking, your brain struggling to make sense of it in any way.

"Please Yunho, please no," you whine again.

"Doll, you've left me no choice," he responds, sighing deeply as if he's thinking hard, not bothering to look you in the eye. Suddenly he's down to the side of you, and you feel his hands working fast behind you, the ropes pushed and pulled in various directions, making the sore skin of your wrists ache with every change of pressure. You're out of words now, utterly confused and helpless, and you lack the ability to fight him anymore, your body succumbing to exhaustion and not wanting to be bruised any further.

Suddenly you feel one of your wrists is free, the muscles in your shoulder relieved at finally being able to move, your body shuttering as it tries to work out the knots that have formed. You're partially free now, you realize for a moment, but just as fast you feel a final tug that loosens your other wrist from the bedpost, and then Yunho is yanking your wrists around to tie them in front of you instead. In a flash he's lifted you up, setting you down on the side of his bed, on your side. You're facing him, where he's now sat on the floor, as he grabs your legs and bends them up towards your arms, beginning to secure all of your limbs together in multiple knots. You lay in an almost catatonic state, staring at the wall of his room, the closet door partially cracked. You can see some of the suits and a few other random jackets you don't think you've ever seen before. You're so zoned out on the wall, so out of your body and out of your mind, that you don't even notice your pants and panties being pulled down to your thighs. It isn't until you feel the skin to skin contact, Yunho's hand gripping your thigh where it meets your hips, that you notice.

"What the fuck!" you squeal, head snapping back to him again, and the look on his face is cocky and self-satisfied, like he's proud of the reaction he's just pulled out of you.

"Yunho, please, no no no, please," you start babbling, repeating the words over and over until they feel almost meaningless. You can tell exactly where his hands are headed, where this whole thing is headed, but you don't have the physical strength in you to fight anymore. Or, more accurately, fighting with your body seems like the worst thing you can do right now, something that will only hurt you more and probably rile him up, too. He can see the gears turning in your head, and he's pressing, waiting for you to break, because it didn't take him long today to realize that he has a better read on you than you've ever had on yourself. You continue to babble your displeasure as he moves his hand up higher, higher, just brushing past your core and making you wince, but he doesn't reply to your words with words of his own, because he knows now that there's no point. He moves his hand up to your ass slowly, a trail of your wetness following his fingers, and even he's shocked by how much was there between your legs. He's sure you have no idea, that you're totally oblivious to the way your body has reacted to his words, his actions, to being bound and unable to move. 

He's sure that for months now you had no idea that so much of the frustration you felt while being around him was the frustration of being teased, your body wanting certain touches that he was never giving you. He was certain you weren't taking care of it enough yourself, because he saw your thighs clench all the time when you stared at him, and sometimes he could even swear he smelled the arousal pooling in your panties, your short skirts leaving too little of a barrier.

Now, finally he was touching you, and it didn't surprise him that that soft wet part between your legs had reacted so quickly. It also wasn't a shock that your brain still hadn't caught up, that you still didn't see what was so obvious to him. He knew it would take more than a gentle brush of your clit for you to finally realize it, so moving his hand back down towards your center, he quickly found your entrance, firmly brushing the pad of his middle finger up your slit until he rubbed right over your sensitive bud again.

"Fuck! Okay, fuck, stop it, I'll apologize," you cry, the soft pad of his finger sending sparks through you as soon as it made contact with your clit. The feeling made your body shake again, but suddenly a warmth was filling your lower gut and you couldn't be more shocked by the feeling, and by how inviting, even comforting, it felt. It was another moment where you were ricocheted back into your body, into the present moment, and the strange nature of everything that was happening was too much to make sense of. All you knew is you needed your confusion to stop, because now more than any other feeling it was your inner conflict that scared you, the fact that you had earlier wished for him to grab you, the fact that now your body seemed so content to just stay in these ropes forever, as long as your position was comfortable enough.

All you could think to do now was to give him what he wanted, and what that was exactly you couldn't remember, other than that he wanted you to say something.

"I'm-I'm sorry, okay, I'm really sorry, I don't know how everything got as fucked up as- as it got, oh god, I'm sorry- I- I promise you I mean it," you babble, eyes closed as you try to control your breathing enough to speak.

"What are you sorry for?" he asks you, his face close enough that you feel his hot breath, his voice gentle but steady.

"I'm- I- I don't know, I- I-" You're distracted by his hand, but the way it's steadily making small circles over your clit and sending more of that heat into you, your mind less and less able to focus on your attempt at an apology.

"You don't know?" he asks, and it's patronizing, you both know it, but it doesn't even hurt you now. You just nod, sniffling as you whisper 'I'm sorry,' your eyes getting wet and heavy with how overwhelmed you feel. "You can't think straight now, can you?" he asks you, his finger working you steadily, his nose picking up on that scent he's become so familiar with. You shake your head, your breathing picking up gently from the pleasure enveloping you like a warm blanket. "Good, you think too much anyway," he chuckles, watching your face intently, his pride surging at the way he's picking you apart so perfectly.

"I think I know why you're sorry," he says, making you whine in response, nervous for what he's about to say. "I'm gonna guess, I think I'm right," he smiles, but you don't even see it with your eyes glued shut. He's happy though, seeing you like that, because he knows that finally you're in your body completely, and you're accepting what he's known you need. "You're sorry cause you know you fucked up, don't you? You know you took things too personally, you overreacted, you couldn't let my jokes or my pranks just be that, you had to make it more. And once you reacted that way once, you felt entitled to react that way every time, didn't you? You're sorry that you didn't stop that snowball in its tracks, before it became this huge thing, right?"

You groan in response to him, pissed as can be, but you can't tell him he's wrong because you're physically incapable now of lying. Something in the way he's making you feel, the way he's touching you, has melted a layer of your mental shield away, and you see now every word he's said is reflected inside you. The thoughts had been there for months, but you'd managed to avoid them almost completely, the occasional blip causing guilt and worry to cloud you for a day or two. But this was the first time you saw it truly for all that it was, how deep the guilt cut into you, how you spoke about him so nastily to other people because you really wanted to say those things to yourself.

"You'd never be able to forgive yourself if you admitted those things, huh?" he continues, making your breath hitch. "You don't want to admit them because you're scared you'll never feel the same about yourself ever again, right? Cause you're this perfect little angel, and you've been that for so many years, the perfect baby of the office, the perfect student in school, I'm sure, and admitting to yourself that you can be cruel, that would ruin the entire image you've created for yourself, wouldn't it?" Tears are streaming down your face now as you involuntarily nod, your whole body somehow enveloped in the warmth his touch is providing, despite how cold it is. Now that you're in your body, really truly in your body, you can notice the little things about your environment; you even notice the wind howling outside, not the loudest you could imagine, but enough that you know the storm is still blustering on. You try to blink open your eyes to look at him, but everything is blurred with your tears, and you vigorously shake your head back and forth, trying in vain to clear your vision. As if he can read your mind, Yunho's free hand comes up to wipe them away, and for some reason now it doesn't feel so bad, his hand touching your face gently, even if it still feels so new and strange. Once he's wiped away the tears you can get a good look at him, your faces only a few inches apart now.

"Am I right?" he asks, genuine, you know it's genuine, and you can't fucking believe it looking at him. He feels like one massive contradiction right now, and all you can do is whisper 'yeah' in response. Your answer clearly pleases him, and you suddenly feel his hand's movement slow, falter, and then he's moving his fingers down towards your entrance, pressing into you gently, only one finger at first.

"Yunho," you groan while shutting your eyes again, the feel of it so foreign, because if you were honest with yourself you hadn't had someone touch you in this way in years, and you weren't really one to put things inside of yourself if it was just you taking care of your needs. 

"I know you need this," he responds, gently starting to pump in and out, the muscles of your cunt getting used to the feelings of pressure and release that they'd missed for so long. 

"You have to forgive yourself," he starts up again, as he gradually starts upping his pace, working slowly and methodically. "You have to let yourself go of being that perfect angel. It's not realistic. You're a human, you're going to fuck up sometimes. And sometimes you have such a big crush on your handsome coworker that, well, you start acting out. And even you don't realize what you're doing, cause you're so caught up in your own head." You groan and roll your eyes when he calls himself handsome, and you still don't think you fully believe the rest of what he's said, but the first part, the part about forgiving yourself and freeing yourself of that perfect image, is calling to a part of you. "You're very sensitive, and I know you don't want to be, but you are. You can't ignore that, or it's gonna catch up with you time and time again."

He adds another finger, curling them up inside you in a perfect way, and you almost stop listening to what he's saying because at this point the pleasure is taking over your senses completely. He adds his thumb to your clit now, the feelings increasing exponentially, your clit feeling hot and fiery under his touch. It all still feels so foreign, so new, and something within you, particularly within the place he's touching you, still feels the need to hold back, to worry, to be tense. He can feel it too, and he guessed himself that you hadn't been touched in a while, from everything he'd observed about you. He figured you were someone who might have written off relationships and sex entirely, someone too focused on what their duty to the world was, to maintaining the image of good morals, that you weren't partaking in those things people consider selfish, or self-indulgent. He even wondered for a bit if you'd never been touched, but that seemed unlikely from some of the random comments he'd overheard in your conversations with Tally.

"You know, you can't come if you're so tense down there," he says, and again it's kind of patronizing, but you don't really care. "You have to let go."

"I- I've never come from, inside, st- stimulation," you stutter, looking at him directly, hoping to convey that despite your state you're being completely sincere.

"Really?" 

"I- I can't," you say, shaking your head, thinking of all of your sexual exploits, the list of which can fit on one hand.

"I'm gonna try," he chuckles, his focus zeroing in on your body's reactions to his movements. "I really do need you to relax those muscles for me, relax your hips too. They're too tense, do you even feel that?" he asks, tapping the side of your thigh where the muscle is taught. You shake your head, frowning and burying your face into the duvet cover you're laying on. "No, don't shy away from me. Don't go back into your head. I know that's why you haven't come in the past, cause you were too in your head. You can't do that. Come on, just focus on my touch, think about how it feels, nothing else."

You try with all you have to follow his instructions, keeping your eyes on his face as you watch him furrow his brow in concentration, the muscles in his jaw flexing for a moment when he changes the angle of his hand ever so slightly. The new spot he was hitting inside felt so perfect, so shockingly deep, and finally your body started to cave into the feelings, your breathy moans coming out as you lost yourself in it, not thinking anymore about where you were or why you were there.

"You know you're not perfect, deep down you know that, and you need to accept that. You're not a robot, you're like all the rest of us, fucked up in so many ways, wanting selfishly for life to always go your way, wanting everyone to like you, praise you, cherish you. And that's okay, it doesn't make you some horrible person. You're neurotic, sensitive, intense, so what? You'll never not be those things, and that's okay. Just fucking let yourself be a human, so you don't get so fucking hung up on every little thing wrong with me." He punctuates the last word, reminding you why you're here. His hand is working you perfectly, and mixed with all that he's saying it's all encompassing, the overwhelming intensity you're feeling. Suddenly you feel something building deep within you, a coil about to snap, and you feel your legs begin to shake before it's even washing over you. The most intense orgasm of your life erupts within you, snaking out from your core down to your feet and back up again, surging to your head and making everything go gray and fuzzy, your mind blinded with a pleasure you've never known. You hear distant, warbled words coming from Yunho's mouth still, but you can't make them out as your orgasm builds in waves, lasting longer than you expect and completely knocking the wind from your lungs. As you come down you’re breathing ragged, so ragged, and you don't even realize that you've clamped down so hard on Yunho's hand that he can't move it anymore. You stare up at him, pupils blown and your face flushed, and in a moment he leans down to place a soft peck on your cheek, taking you by surprise.

"Why are you kissing me?" you ask, eyeing him with confusion and contempt, the action seeming absurd in the current circumstances.

"I'm proud of you. You finally gave into me, you're finally doing what I wanted you to," he replies. It's fucked, you know the sentiment is creepy and strange and so genuinely absurd, but you can't help feeling flattered by it. A small smile sneaks onto your lips, and Yunho sees how you're feeling too. "God you're a sucker for praise," he laughs, slowly removing his hand now that you've relaxed enough. "All you want to hear is that you're good, you're perfect. Can't bear anything else, can you?" You shake your head, as he stands up from where he's been sitting, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, pulling his cock out swiftly, eyeing you up and down. Your face is one of shock, mostly at seeing the size of him; you're not sure where this is headed exactly, but you just hope he'll be gentle with you, whatever he does.

"What, you thought I wasn't going to do this?" he asks, starting to move onto the bed beside you.

"No, it's just..." you sigh, shaking your head, not even sure what to fucking say, still in the haze of your orgasm.

"Oh, you didn't think I'd be this big," he laughs.

"You're so fucking full of yourself," you mutter, rolling your eyes. "Just make it quick, please," you say, almost under your breath, regretting it the moment it's left your lips.

"I'll take as much time as I fucking want with you," he responds, lining himself up with your still soaking entrance, rubbing the head around to gather up some of your wetness. He's fucking into you sideways, his body over yours as you remain on your side, bound and unable to move at all. He enters you slowly, feeling the stretch himself, seeing your eyebrows furrow in what must be pain.

"How long has it been?" he asks, leaning over you as he finally bottoms out, staying put as he lets your body adjust to the size of him. You look confused, so he clarifies, "since you've been fucked?"

You groan, the majority of your brainpower taken up in dealing with the strange mix of pain and pleasure happening between your legs. You don't have it in you to fight with him now, and you don't really want to; you're almost enjoying it now, just letting him talk and belittle and say whatever he pleases.

Once he feels your body relax just that little bit he needs, he moves his hips back, gently pushing himself back in again, but quickly setting a pace that feels good for him. He's holding one arm around your back and anchoring that hand on the back of your neck; the other arm is bent at the elbow, supporting him and holding onto your bound legs and arms, anchoring him to you. The thrusts feel intense, sharp, and biting at first, but soon all you can feel is the way he's repeatedly hitting your cervix, his cock so deep inside you that you feel like you might explode. You can't help the pathetic mewls you're making, eyes closed as you hear his steady grunts and heavy breathing so close to your ear.

"I know you've rejected tons of men, if it's been as long as I think," he says, and you feel his breath brushing across your cheek and neck, making you shiver. "Not just men, I should say. You're so fucking oblivious to everything. Do you even realize that Tally has a huge crush on you? I'm sure she'd love to fuck your brains out," he chuckles, making you groan in annoyance again, not believing him for a second. "I'm sorry, I know, forgive me. I can't help myself, I just love telling you all the things I know you don't realize." His pace hasn't let up, if anything it's increased, and his grip on you is tightening, his torso now flush with yours and his face only inches from your own. "Fuck, I'm not gonna last much longer, shit you're tight," he sighs, a groan rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. He knows his pace will leave you sore tomorrow, but it feels too good for him to stop, and it seems just the right thing to finally get your mind off all of the superfluous, stressful stuff you usually obsessively think about. It's not just that either; he can feel your body slowly coming undone again, and though it's built differently than the last time, the tell tale signs are there in the way your hips start moving against him, your breathing changing just like it did before. You come hard again, the feeling erupting from even higher inside your core this time, and it feels even more intense the second time around, your whole body shaking intensely this time.

"See, your body needed this," he whispers in your ear, his hard thrusts continuing through your aftershocks, soon becoming painful and hard to bear. Your face has turned sour as he chases his own climax, and even as bad as it feels, part of you is so content to just sit here and take it. The feeling of having no other option, of being held here and used for another's pleasure, it makes some of your internal confusion go away. You liked this part at least; maybe everything that came before was not to your liking, but this part definitely was.

He finishes with a final hard thrust, groaning out a 'fuck', before pressing his hips flush with yours and keeping them there. You feel his warm cum filling you, his warm body wrapping around you, and finally you do truly feel warm, from the inside out. This was a feeling you could get used to, your head fuzzy and soft and lacking the usual worries you have, your body relaxed, spent, and warm.

It isn't long that you're in that position, Yunho pulling out of you quickly, walking over to his bathroom to grab a towel and start wiping you and his comforter clean of the mess he'd made. The absence of him left you feeling cold again, your body stiffening up faster than you thought it would, and your shivers returning as soon as he took the damp towel to your most sensitive area. Eyes closed you're still holding onto the remnants of that blissful feeling, especially the way your brain feels so wonderfully empty. You're surprised when you feel Yunho messing with your ropes, assuming he'd just leave you there for a little while, or maybe for a long while, it was hard to say. But quickly he's undone the entirety of the knots, and he tosses the rope onto the floor, manually moving your limbs to help your body stretch out and begin returning blood flow to the places that lost it.

It hurts when he does this, though it feels good too, but you whine and complain the whole time, even as he assures you it's best and it's needed. He then slowly takes off your clothes entirely, leaving you naked and exposed, and the cold is almost overbearing now, making your body ache all the way into your bones.

"It's fucking cold, you asshole," you groan, tucking yourself back up into that fetal position you were just in for so long, despite the fact that the ropes are gone now.

"Just give me a minute, I know," he sighs, somewhere behind you, over in the direction of his bathroom. You hear what must be the bathtub faucet turn on, the strong current of water sounding clearly through the quiet house. Then he's coming over to you, wrapping you up in his arms and carrying you that way, setting you gently into his huge tub before it's even finished filling. The hot water feels like it's sizzling your skin upon first contact, but soon your body relaxes in the warmth, especially your back once the water reaches all the way up to your neck. His tub is nice; there are spots designed specifically to rest your arms on, the slope of the side a comfortable angle for relaxing down onto.

"Give me your arms," he says, and you look up at him begrudgingly, holding your arms out of the water like it's the hardest thing in the world.

"Little brat," he mutters, taking the first into his hands and slowly applying some lotion to your rope burns, wrapping it loosely in a thin bandage. He does the same to the other, setting them both on the sides of the tub, out of the water. "Keep them there, I'm going to get some ice. We need to ice those burns so they don't bruise too badly," he says, and you just stare through him, not nodding or saying anything. He doesn't need that kind of confirmation though, he knows you'll follow his commands. He returns a few minutes later, two ice packs and more bandages in hand, and somehow balanced between it all, your phone.

"It looks like you have some missed calls," he says, showing you your phone screen. You see three missed calls from Yunji, and a slew of texts, and your heart jumps back up in speed momentarily, even in your relaxed and numb state.

"I gotta call her now," you say, your words rushed, reaching out your bandaged wrist to grab at your phone. Yunho holds it just out of reach though, and then sets it down on the counter by the sink, turning back to you with a knowing look.

"I need to ice your wrists first. Then we'll call her," he says.

"Yunho, seriously, she's gonna call the fucking police, I know her," you respond, eyeing him sharply with disapproval.

"And you, seriously, need to wait a moment," he snaps, and you really don't like this control now, because it's affecting someone else, not just you.

"I fucking hate you," you mutter, pushing yourself up despite your weak and painful muscles, moving yourself out of his bathtub without a care in the world for all of the water you're spilling everywhere.

"Okay, okay, fine," he concedes, holding onto your shoulders while your one foot is still in the tub, not letting you move any further. "I'm putting it on speaker on the side of the tub, so that I can ice your wrists." Your faces are inches apart, the look in his eye is intense, almost like he's compelling you to agree with him.

"Fine," you sigh, sitting yourself back down, your body basking in being back in the water. Then, as he said, he's set your phone on the side of the tub, somehow guessing your passcode and opening it with ease, calling Yunji immediately. As the call begins to ring he sets to work on your wrists again, gently wrapping the ice packs around the smaller bandages already on your sensitive skin.

"Girl, oh my god, where are you??" Yunji answers, her panic obvious.

"I'm- I'm at Yunho's, I'm fine though, I swear-" you start, knowing she'll be horrified by just his name alone.

"Oh my god what???" she cuts you off, gasping. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Yes I'm okay, Yun, I promise. I just- I ran into him on my way back from the store, and well, I got sort of, tied up, talking with him, and then the storm came so- so now I'm stuck here." Yunho's face breaks into a smirk, knowing just how literal two of the words you just said are.

"Oh god, you poor thing, are you sure you're okay? That man is insane," she sighs. Yunho eyes you, a playful look on his face, almost like he's trying to avoid laughing.

"Seriously, I'm okay, I promise. It was actually really good, I guess, talking about things. We were more, uh, honest I guess? I- I don't know, there's a lot to process. It was weird. But I'm okay, I- I swear," you sigh, wishing you weren't stuttering so much over your words.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks again.

"I know I sound like a mess, I'm sorry. The storm is kind of freaking me out," you reply.

"It's okay hun, don't apologize. I can't believe you're stuck there with him. God, I don't think you'll be able to come home tonight. Is there somewhere you can sleep there?" Yunho nods at her question, eyeing you as he does.

"Uh, yeah, he has a guest room here. He said I could stay in there. At least it's separate, my own space," you answer her.

"God, I'm so sorry you're there. I shouldn't have let you go to the store, I should have stopped you..." she trials off, and you can bet her hand is slapped over her face in frustration.

"No, don't apologize Yun, I think it was good that this happened. I mean, I don't know, at least something has changed between me and him. And you had no idea that the storm would return so quickly like it did. It was my own stupidity, if anything, I just-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head side to side against the hard porcelain of the tub. "Thank you for checking up on me, I'm sorry I missed your calls. I was just talking with him, I got distracted. I hate that I worried you so much." It feels a little weird lying to her, but above all you want her to know you appreciate how much she looks out for you.

"It's okay, I'm just glad you're safe and okay. And hopefully tomorrow it'll clear up enough that you can come back here where you belong."

Her last word brings tears to your eyes, thinking of your perfect little apartment and just how much of a home you two have made of it.

"I love you so much," you sigh, looking over at your phone, wishing you were seeing her face instead.

"I love you too, I wish you were here," she replies.

"I know, me too," you say.

"We can keep talking if you want."

"I- I should probably go, I'm starving so I guess I need to go ask Yunho about dinner. But I'll call later, if that's okay? I'm sure I'll be bored as shit," you chuckle, and she does too, the tension finally breaking.

"Sounds good, call me whenever. I hope he has something decent for you to eat. I doubt he can cook or anything, if he's such a spoiled rich boy." You both laugh in sync, Yunho rolling his eyes as he places the final bandage on your second wrist, securing the ice packs in place.

"Okay, talk to you soon," you say, smirking up at him.

"Bye bye," she replies, hanging up the call.

"You two are so mean," he sighs, shaking his head and walking out of the room, and you relax into the silence of the room, your wrists starting to feel the cold of the ice packs, the relief palpable. Your body is wrecked, you can feel it intensely, but the warm bath relaxing your muscles and ice on your wrists is making it bearable, your body already on the path towards healing. Yunho returns about ten minutes later, when you've almost nodded off, and takes a small washcloth into the warm water, using it to wipe the snot and tears that have stained your cheeks. Then he's feeding you a warm cup of tea, holding it as your arms lay unusable at your sides; he does the same with the small bowl of stew he's heated for you, the tastes rich and fresh in a way that make it obvious it's homemade. The attentiveness doesn't feel overly sweet, but the calm that's settled in the air between you isn't something you've experienced with him at all, the entire time you've known one another. You're both silent, comfortable, and the warm stew is just so delicious, the meat tender and soft and perfectly seasoned. Your senses are overwhelmed in solace, your breaths deep and stable. Your nerves have returned to you, so you're no longer numb. But instead of the high strung alertness that usually accompanies you, your body is present but calm.

When you finally finish the stew and tea, thirty minutes have passed in total silence, Yunho taking his time with feeding you, letting your body relax in the hot water. He places the empty bowl and mug on the counter, moving back to start unwrapping the ice packs, and then beckoning you to stand, bringing a huge fluffy towel to wrap around your shoulders. The towel dwarfs you, keeping the cold away, and you gently step out of the tub, following Yunho wherever he leads you.

"Can you walk?" he asks, and you nod your head, following him over towards the counter. He pulls out a brush from one of the drawers, gently taking it to the knots that had formed in your hair, the ends damp from the tub. After he finishes he leads you out of his room, down the hall two doors down, and you enter to another room with a large bed, a TV on the opposite wall, the whole room immaculately decorated. He leads you to the bed, placing your phone on the bedside table and grabbing a charger out of the drawer. He also grabs the remote inside, placing it next to your phone, and a bottle of water, holding it out to you.

"I'll be in my room, if you need anything else," he says, standing up to make his way out.

"I'm sorry I kept ignoring your texts, and calls," you say, your voice quiet, the words escaping you without much thought.

He just eyes you for a minute, turning to face you, his face unreadably neutral. "I'm not," he finally says, smiling, that cocky grin back on his perfect face. You roll your eyes at him, settling into the bed, pulling the comforter up and over you.

He makes to leave the room again, but stops himself at the door, turning back to face you one final time

"We're going back to the office Monday, right?" he asks.

You don't respond, you don't say a word. But he doesn't need you to. He knows the answer, just like he knows you, with a certainty maybe he shouldn't have.

taglist: @lalalasexyguyshehehehe @hoe4rkpop @rienzz @bloomyroses

thank you sm for reading my loves <3333

[quimichi]

¡! ❞ MAKING OUT WITH HXH GUYS

warnings: NSFW - MDNI, Ging Freecs, this man needs his own tw, kissing, making out, pet names, teasing, yeah i think thats it?

summary: Making out with hxh guys

characters: HxH guys x F!Reader + Neferpitou (they/them) dunno where to put that creature

word count: 5.940

a/n: any character you want added? Tell me lol

Chrollo

Chrollo is kissing you with a passion that borders on fervent. His hands touch the curves of your face— as if trying to memorize how you feel under his skin. He wants to memorize your smell, how each of your curves and dip fits against him.

His tongue sweeps along your lips, desperate for more. Chrollo is craving you; craving the sensation of your skin against his. Chrollo's hands slide down your chest and to your thighs, pulling you even closer against him, his touch insistent and demanding. He pulls back and gazes at you, his hand tilting your chin so that you're looking up at him. His eyes are dilated, almost completely black, and his voice is ragged as he speaks.

"Don't look away from me," he murmurs. "Your eyes. Let me see them. I need to see you." His mouth is on your neck, his hands roaming over your skin. He's desperate. His tongue follows the path of his lips, tasting the air with a fervour that borders on the needy. He lets out a ragged exhale that turns into a moan against your flesh.

"You're mine," he groans. "You're perfect. You're mine."

Dalzollene

Dalzollene is pressed against your body, hands at your hips. His head dips to kiss you, lips trailing across your jaw and down the column of your throat. "You're so good to me," he murmurs between pecks and kisses. "Good," he repeats. He presses closer against you, hands slipping under the hem of your shirt. Dalzollene's body presses hard against yours, pushing you back against the wall. One of his hands leaves your hips to come up under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach.

His other hand grips your hip, holding you in place. His lips find your sensitive point just under your jaw, and he nips you there. "My good girl." He says, as though he means it. "Gods, you're good to me." His kisses are hot, almost feverish, against your skin as his lips dance and suck to a new spot after just leaving the last. One hand grabs your hip tighter, pinning you to the wall behind you. The other slides down your chest and stomach, leaving fire in every place his fingertips graze you. "You're gonna make me weak if you keep being so good to me," he rasped against your neck. "Oh, you're so goddamn good to me." Dalzollene nips the soft flesh of your collarbone.

Feitan

"Ouch-!" Feitan lets out a soft laugh against your lips. His teeth nip at your skin, taking the tiniest tastes of you, relishing in the sweet moan that escapes your throat as he does so. His hand curls around your cheek, fingers tracing the line of your jaw.

"You are delicious," he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. "I could feast on you for eternity." Feitan's hand slides back to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. He tugs, pulling your head back and baring your neck for him. He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Who do you belong to?" He whispers, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. "Say it. Let me hear those sweet little words." His hand continues to grasp at you, as if he cannot get enough of your touch. His teeth graze against the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along the line of your pulse. "Whose are you?" He breathes, his voice as soft and sweet as honey. "Tell me. Who do you belong to? Answer me. I will have my name on your hips, your back, everywhere. I'll carve it into you."

Ging

"Watch my-?" Ging stutters before cutting himself off, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. He blinks once, twice, before letting out a soft, almost inaudible exhale of breath. "My tongue?" Ging pulls you against him. One of his arms wraps around your waist, bringing you right flush against him. Gings other hand slides lower, slipping down to your hip.

"You're a brat, aren't you? No one ever complained about my kisses, ever." He murmurs, smirking. "Probably cause you never ever kissed someone, ever." You mock him. "You've always been a brat." Ging lets out a quiet laugh.

He tugs his hand from your hair, coming to rest it on your hip instead; his grip tightens ever-so-slightly. The hand at your stomach begins to rise, creeping just beneath the edge of your shirt. His hand slides higher, fingertips brushing against your skin, just shy of the waistband of your pants. Ging lets your ear fall against the crook of his neck, the action bringing you even more closely against him than you were a moment ago— it's as though he's attempting to meld the two of you together like an experiment.

He grins. "How long has it been since you've been on your best behaviour?"

Hanzo

Hanzo is a mess of kisses. He worships your lips like a shrine, he worships the curve of your neck, he worships the slope of your shoulders, the dip of your waist, everything. In a moment, he is a man drowning in an ocean of bliss— his body pressed against yours, his hands gripping you tight, holding you close to him.

The man is a kiss-soaked mess— his body a trembling mess, every kiss turning him to jelly. He holds onto you like he never wants to let go. "Did you ever-" but you were quickly shut down, "Never before." The answer comes in hushed, urgent tones. His hands trail over you like fire, tracing the curves and lines of your body like your skin is a map he wants to re-draw a thousand times.

"Never like this." His hands roam down your back. "Not with anyone like this." His words end on a gasp as his hand comes down to cup you, his touch possessive and almost reverent. It is a caress, but at the same time, it's claiming you.

"I have longed to touch you," he whispers, his words like a prayer. "To caress you… to hold you…" His words are like nothing he'd ever thought of before, but he seems to be spilling them without a care. It's as if he has been holding them back for years, and your touch has forced them out. For the first time, Hanzo is a man without a filter, no hesitation, no hesitance. "To touch you..." he murmurs, as he leans forward, pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck. "So desperately."

Hisoka

"Yes." He moans between kisses, arching up into you. He presses his body against yours, as close as two souls can be. Every kiss, every touch, only makes the fire inside him grow. His fingers, cold as moonlight, dance over your skin. His lips are soft, but his touch is hungry— he wants you, needs you, like a starving puppy that only a single meal will suffice. "Oh," he whispers against your lips, "OH~" he moans, "Mmm, yes, keep it coming." He lets out a shuddering breath. Hisoka's fingers dip into your hair and thread through the soft strands, grabbing the locks in a way that makes it hard for you escape from his hold.

"So good. You're so good, so—" He cuts off a moan, his breath hitching in anticipation of something. "Can you shut the fuck up, clown ass-" you blurt out.

Hisokas eyes gleam, sparkling like jewels as he looks up at you. He loves it when you take control like this. All those sounds he made before are nothing compared to his cocky grin now. "Mmm, make me," he responds, teasingly.

Hisoka's hand slides up your arm, all the way up and his fingers dig into your shoulder hard. His smirk is playful, but that look in his eyes… that's no joke. A low growl rolls past his lips. 

"I dare you," he teases. "Make me shut up."

Illumi

Kissing Illumis lips feels like kissing a statue. His body is rigid, like the very air around him has frozen. The only response you get from him is from the way he shudders against you, or from the soft sound that slips from his lips when your tongue touches against his.

The kiss feels as if it were frozen in time. Illumi is completely and utterly frozen. The only sign he makes of life in his body is his hands— they're resting on your shoulders, fingers curling and releasing.

Your lips part from his, it's pointless and in a way embarrassing for you to keep going. "Did you...ever made out before?" "No." His answer is simple. His fingers grip tighter against your shoulders, pulling you a little closer to him. The stiffness in his body grows to the point that you might believe he stopped breathing entirely.

"Mother has taught me." "WHAT?!" "She said that making out, or kissing is a waste of time and should not be part of the relationship process. It takes away too much time." "Ah-"

The little sound you make makes Illumi pause.

His fingers flex and loosen against your shoulders. He's tense, body frozen in place, when suddenly he pulls you a little tighter.  "Ah," he repeats, your single little sound is so perfect to his ears. Soft and breathy.

"Well, seems like you have to...teach me then."

Kite

"My everything." Kite's fingers trail along your jaw, over your lips, tracing the lines of your face. "My only love."  He buries his nose into your neck, breathes you in. "Please." He says, the word almost a whimper of desire.

"Please, don't ever jump so reckless into danger again." "...Promise." "I hope so." The corners of Kite's lips curl up into a slight, affectionate smile, but it's a shaky smile. He buries a hand into your silken hair and breathes against your throat.

"Promise me you'll run when i tell you to. You stay where you are when i tell you to. You do as i tell you to. We don't know what we might encounter in NGL."

"Good." Kite's entire body relaxed, a shudder coming over him as your word echoed through his mind. He breathed out against your skin, nuzzling into that sweet spot beneath your jaw. He closed his eyes, pressing his lips against you in a kiss, and again, and again. He wants to lose himself in you.

"Please, do as told and leave me behind if you must."

Knov

Knov's lips are as cold as his skin is warm. It's a strange sensation, one that seems both heavenly and sinful at once. His arms are wrapped around you as though he would never let go. There's an almost reverent expression on his face as his lips connect with yours, and his hands roam your body as if he is trying to prove to himself you're really there.

He kisses you. Deeply and passionately, as if he were starving and you were the first thing that wasn't ice in his mouth. Knov's lips are cold, his hands hot against your skin. He guides you closer to him, one arm curled around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You can feel the heat of his body pressed against yours, a stark contrast to the cold of his lips.

His other hand is buried in your hair, fingers tangled in your locks like a man who was desperate to touch you. "Gods, you're beautiful," he murmurs. Knov's eyes roam over you almost possessively, as though he wants to look at every inch of you. He's silent like this, for the first time in as long as you can remember. He's so focused, so intent on you, that he has forgotten how to hold a conversation. All of his attention is on you— your form, the way your hair bounces as you move, the way your clothes mould themselves against you— he's completely captivated.

When he finally does speak again, his voice is rough. Deep and husky.

"I've missed you."

Knuckle

"C-Chill out-!" Knuckle's reaction to that is quite a lot of things, most of them sinful, and you can't tell when he stops kissing you or when he pulls back. For a moment he just stares at you, eyes wide. "You-" he breaths. The words fail him, replaced by a soft, shaky exhale. For a moment he's too stunned to move, staring.

But then, you're pressed against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, holding you as close to his body as humanly possible. He buries his face into your neck, pressing kisses to the skin. The way he kisses is desperate, desperate like a man starving in the desert. His breaths are hot against your skin, and his hands are gripping your waist, holding onto you so tightly he fears you might disappear.

"What as gotten into you." you chuckle lightly as his lips and hair tickle your skin. "You," he chokes out, his voice coming as a sharp gasp against your neck. His head lifts, and he kisses down the column of your neck, and you can hear the way he says "you" between kisses, and it sounds like a prayer, like a plea, like a vow. "You've gotten into me—"

Kurapika

"Feeling better?" You ask him, holding his face gently in your hands. "The world feels less cold," he admits. His hands come up to hold your face. He's never seen anything as precious as you before, and there is a sense of reverence in the way that he looks at you.

"I've never felt... whole." His fingertips trace the lines of your jaw. "I'm better now," he says, voice barely above a whisper. As he speaks, Kurapika's hands are still tracing the expanse of your cheek, the line of your jaw, the curve of your cheeks— as if he's memorising how it feels to finally touch you.

His eyes have softened when they look at you. The tension in his body seems to have left at last. "I'm better when I'm with you," he says. He kisses you. His lips are soft and warm against yours, the taste like sweet wine against your tongue, a heady mix of sweetness and intoxicating desire.

His arms are gentle as they wrap around your waist, drawing you closer still. As if your proximity isn't enough, he pulls you over so that you're sat atop  of him on his lap. His lips are hungry— a desperate need against your mouth as he kisses you over and over again.

Leorio

Leorio kisses back fiercely, lips pressing against yours fervently, tongue slipping past your lips. His hands slide up to cup your face, fingers tangling gently in your hair, cradling you against him as if he cannot get enough of you. He melts at your touch, breath leaving him in soft, shuddering gasps. He pulls back just slightly, only by millimeters— his lips just barely ghosting over your skin, his breath hot and needy and soft against your neck. Leorio swallows, lips parting slightly. The sound of his breath against your skin has an unmistakable undertone of need. He presses closer, pressing his body against yours, body shaking against you. Every breath he takes has his name falling from his lips.

"Gods," he gasps, voice a desperate whisper. "Bab…I don't know how much patience I have left."

He presses his lips between your collarbones, leaving soft, reverent kisses against smooth flesh. "I'm going crazy." You are making him absolutely unravel.

He murmurs your name as he presses kisses against your neck. He's whimpering now, a litany of praise against your skin like a desperate prayer. "Your- Gods, I need you-" His fingers clutch at your shirt, body trembling. "-I need to be closer to you."

The way he's shuddering against you is like a leaf in the wind. A shudder, a press, another kiss to your skin. "I'm going to break if I don't have you now."-

Menthuthuyoupi

"Wait-! Not so r-!" Menthuthuyoupi gasps, a low, startled sound that catches in his throat. He blinks down at you. "Not so rough?" His words are muffled against the soft plush of your lips, but the sound is clear. He pauses, lifting his head slightly— his lips barely leave yours, and he's still close enough that his body is flush against yours. His mouth brushes against your lips, the sound of his deep and gravelly voice rumbling from his chest.

He leans closer, his eyes still fixed on yours, and he murmurs. "Or not so loud?"

"Rough-!" "Yes." His breath is hot on your face, his tongue flicking out to trace your bottom lip, a slow, deliberate stroke of heat. A shudder runs through him as he pulls back just enough to speak. He tilts his head, and he looks up you. "You like that?" He tilts his head, his mouth only inches away from yours. A smirk pulls at his mouth, and he teases you in kind. "Rough." Menthuthuyoupis breath hitches against your ear. He shivers, his body taut with tension as his hand moves to the nape of your neck, fingers tightening against the soft skin.

"Rough." He murmurs once more, his voice barely a touch above a whisper. He pulls back slightly, and the look in his eyes is like a wildcat stalking its prey.

"You want rough." He repeats, as though it is the most obvious thing in the universe.

Meruem

His lips move against yours automatically. He kisses you with a sense of reverence so intense, you'd think you were worshipping a god in the shape of a man. Meruem's heart is in his throat. This is all he's ever dreamed of, all he's dreamed of since the day you first turned your eyes onto him. He kisses you like a dying man who is being reborn (literally). A man starving who cannot fathom having food, but here it is, right in front of him.

Just before you pull away, Meruem murmurs.

"Mine." His mouth curls up at that. He grins, but there's hunger behind his eyes, and something else too. A sense of possession. A deep, feral need to keep what is his and his alone. "Mine to devour," he agrees. "Mine to love. Mine to hold. Mine to eat if i so desire." Meruem kisses you again, this time more aggressively, as if he's trying to memorize every detail of your lips so that he will never forget the taste again. His hands, large and strong, come up to rest on your waist; his fingers dig into your body, claiming you as his with a possessive force that takes your breath.

He breaks the kiss, only to move back in, kissing you again and again. Each time, his embrace around you deepens, becomes harder. His breaths are becoming heavier.

"My Human tastes so good."

Morel

Morel is a man who is all restraint. He is meticulous, precise, and disciplined. He has a reputation as a hunter for his precise, deadly combat, but he has also been known to be a slow, almost deliberate lover.

His kiss against your mouth is slow and unhurried. When his lips part from yours, he pauses to gaze at you, as if you are a precious gemstone. Morel will look at you as if for the first time, even after months of seeing you. No matter how many times he's been in your presence, every look is like the first. His expression is always one of reverent awe. His hands are cool, soft, and steady. They rest against your face when he kisses you. He holds you close, like a flower held in a gentle breeze that will protect you from all the storms of the world. His movements are deliberately slow, as if he is savouring every inch of you.

"Morel..." His name on your lips makes his body shiver with something he couldn't have prepared for in a million deaths. He is as if carved from stone. The word that slips from your mouth as if falling from the gods themselves makes him feel like he's been touched by lightning.

"Say it again…?" he whispers.

"Morel." "You'll remember to scream that later." "Wait what?"

Neferpitou

Neferpitou shivers at the sensation of your lips. Soft. Plump. Just the right amount of firmness. When your hand cups the side of their face, they tilt their head into your hand — as though they couldn't be more content to be in your grasp.

"Was...was that a kiss…?" They ask breathlessly. Neferpitou has always been quiet, but they are so very desperate for you. Neferpitou kisses you like a drowning man, with a desperation that almost seems to consume the room. There are no words that need be said to describe this, only actions.

When your back hits the wall, Neferpitou is flush against you, their lips still on yours, tongue tracing over your teeth. Their hand reaches up to grasp you by the neck, pressing against your jaw with the same sort of urgency.

Their breaths get deeper, more ragged with want. "You're mine…" Neferpitou breathes when they finally pull back from your kiss, leaving only a few inches of space between your lips. Their thumb brushes over your lip, lingering as if they couldn't bear the thought of letting it go.

"Say you're mine, human!"

Netero

His lips are warm, softer than they have any right to be. His arms are around you, firm as a mountain, but gentle in a way that says he's being careful. He tastes of the rain, like the afterglow of a storm. His arms tighten against your back in a way that makes it perfectly clear: he intends on holding onto you for all eternity. He is centuries old— but he feels young with you. He holds you against him like a relic, a treasure from the very first second that he's made you his.

Your body fits against his, the two of you slotting together like the final bit of a puzzle. He is warm against you, his head buried against the crook of your neck, as if you are a pillow, and all his thoughts are on you. His face is pressed into your hair, and he inhales slowly, your scent filling his senses and his eyes flutter shut. It feels as if a part of him has been missing all his life, and then you came along and you fit so perfectly into his arms that all at once he realises: you were always that missing piece.

"I've been waiting for so long," he mumbles. "I'm not going to let go of you now."

Nobunaga

Nobunagas head is in the crook of your neck. He is breathing deeply, as if you could drown out the whole world with the scent of you alone. "I love you," he breathes again, against your skin. "You're it… you're all I need…"

His hand gently runs up your arm, holding you against him. He's clinging to you like a barnacle. Nobunaga's breath hitches as your touch moves against his jawline. "You're too good for me." His words are barely a whisper.  His eyes close as soon as your hand touches his face, and he's completely quiet now, save for the sound of his breath.

If it weren't for his heart beating, one would almost assume that he's dead. He's as still as a statue, as if the mere whisper of your touch could bring him shattering to his knees. "You," he murmurs again, his voice low, "you're everything. More. So many good things I'm not. You're— I would die for you. I would."

His grip on your arm tightens. "I'm lost in you… I'm—" he trails off, swallowing thickly.

Pariston

"Somebody might-" "Let them," Pariston murmurs against your mouth. He's breathless, his face a few inches from yours, eyes wide and fixed in a mixture of reverence and adoration. "Let them look. Let them see your good man; your beautiful lover." He pulls you closer, bringing you flush against him. There's something almost feverish in the way he looks at you. "Let them see that you're mine. Let them know you're the only one that matters." "But-" "But?" His tone matches yours; gentle, questioning. "But what?"

His eyes search yours, as if he's almost afraid that you'll tell him to stop— that he'll be forced to part from you, even for a second. He holds his ground, unmoving, his body pressed close to yours. Pariston smiles at you, a tender curve of the lips. It's a smile full of warmth and adoration.

It's the kind of smile that is utterly unguarded, a simple, unburdened smile that comes from nothing but love and affection. Pariston's tongue peeks out from behind his lips to moisten them. He brings a hand up to hold your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin.

"You look pretty when you're flustered," he comments. "And so flustered," he teases, his finger trailing lower down your face to brush against your neck playfully. "Are you scared that they'll think I'm taking advantage of you, my love?"

His hand slides down your arm; a shiver goes through you as his fingertips linger over your forearm. "Scared that they'll think that I'm making you mine?"

A pause, before he adds in a husky drawl that sounds more like a growl, "Scared that you'll like it?"

Phinks

"Only strong for you," Phinks murmurs with a soft gasp, breathless and trembling.

His arms tighten around you, fingers gripping your shoulders as he pulls you closer, needing to have you in his embrace. The only thought his mind is able to form is of you, of you, of you. Phinks breath hitches.

His fingers tighten around your waist. His lips part easily as his head cocks back and his breaths grow more urgent. He makes a low, soft sound as his fingers clutch tighter to your body, and he presses himself closer to you. Phinks can't get enough of this. He can't get enough of having you close, of having you so close to him. Of hearing you breathe, of feeling the weight of you on top of him.

He kisses you more roughly this time, tongue pressing against yours. One of his hands grips your waist, pulling you closer, and his fingers dig into your skin.

He pulls away and presses his lips to your neck, lips whispering against the skin.

"You drive me insane." One of his legs hooks around yours and he rolls, reversing the positions so that he is on top of you, staring down at you from above. He presses against you, fingers gripping your hips tightly.

Pokkle

"Me, shy?" Pokkle almost laughs, only holding in the sound with a stifled huff. He raises his face slowly to look at you, his eyes glistening just like they almost always do when he looks towards you. "I am not shy," he says. "I simply—"

His voice trails off once again and he looks down at his feet. He lets out a low, shuddering breath— he's never been a good liar. He lets out a quiet, breathless laugh.

"I'm not getting shy at all. I'm not. I just…" He looks up, eyes meeting yours almost immediately, like a flower seeking sun. "A moment of weakness. A brief vulnerability— I-"

He sighs. God, he is a bad liar.

"Shut up and keep kissing me." You whisper, leaning closer to him. Pokkle freezes at that order. His breath stops in his chest. For a moment, it seems he's stunned speechless by the statement.

And then, he reacts. All he does is stare for a second, and you catch a spark of something new in Pokkles eyes. "Okay," he says; his voice is barely a whisper as he responds to you, soft and just a little bit breathy.  He pulls you close.

Razor

His hands are gentle as he touches you, as he runs his fingers over you like you are pure light. Razor loves to tease you, loves to hear your little whimpers and gasps as his touch slides over you. "Did you do that on purpose?" Razor asks, voice slightly breathless as he presses his thumb over the spot were he just left his mark. "I don't believe you're this bad at practicing nen." there's a slight edge to his voice, "and I know you aren't that bad."

"Or— maybe," he murmurs— "I'm just that skilled at making you lose your focus." Razor lets his fingers dance over your skin while your heart beats faster under his touch. "You're so easy," he muses. His tongue slips out, running the tip along the seam of your lips. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky whisper:

"You're so desperate just for me to touch you."

His fingers dance along the inside of your shirt as they slip under the fabric, caressing the warm, supple skin beneath his fingertips. He kisses you again. His teeth close around your bottom lip. He nips at your mouth with more force. He gently bites and sucks and pulls until you're letting out the pretty noises that drive him crazy. When he releases your lip, a thread of saliva still connected to his mouth, he grins against it.

"You're not very quiet at all."

Shaiapouf

His kisses are soft, as if he is touching a piece of art that could crumble under the pressure of his own touch. He holds your gaze as he does, eyes wide and open, like a child that has seen something that has rocked his very world. His tongue is soft and slow against your mouth, warm and gentle like the summer sun. His body is warm as well, every muscle under his clothes as taut as tautrope. He moves slowly, languid, languid. He would not speed the pace on his own accord. He's content to worship you with his lips. His mouth moves to your neck, his lips brushing against the bare skin, soft as satin.

He's silent as he presses kisses against your throat, his nose brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. He inhales your scent, as if it alone was a sacrament he was consuming.

He moves lower, his mouth moving to the hollow of your throat. He pauses there, then moves down to the collarbone, his hair splaying across your skin. Shaiapoufs tongue runs along the contour of your collarbone. He lets it dance across the skin of your collarbone, as it would a melody on the strings. He presses gentle kisses there, moving his way back up along your throat to your jaw.

His hands are at your face, stroking softly across your cheek, your chin, your jaw. His touch is like a caress. He strokes over your lips.

Shalnark

A small whimper sounds in the back of Shalnarks throat as your lips meet. He is quick to return the kiss, as if every fiber of his being is focused on that one singular contact. He reaches up, resting his palm against the curve of your jaw, turning your head so that he can deepen the kiss.

His breath is hot against your skin, his other hand gripping your waist, fingers digging hard into the fabric of your clothes. "You're mine," he murmurs against your lips, almost desperately. His fingers tug at your clothes, trying to pull you closer. If he could have, he would have torn them from you, and then your body, so that he could have you even closer.

Shalnark tongue brushes over your lower lip, and he makes a soft sound—a small whimper—as he does so. He is desperate, and his touch is rough. In that moment, he simply wants to be close to you. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Mine," he mumbles, again.

Shoot

Shoot melts into your kiss, a soft gasp of surprise escaping him as you kiss him, and he responds quietly, his hands hovering as if afraid to touch you. He's timid, but also hungry, desperate to feel your lips upon his.

His body presses against yours as your lips touch, and he makes another soft gasp as his hands finally touch your skin. You take his hands in mine and place them on your waist. Shoot hands freeze as they slide against your waist. His fingertips touch your hip, gently wrapping around you. He swallows hard, the sound loud in the quiet, as he pulls you closer. He lets his fingers explore your back, sliding up to your shoulders. His hands are cold, but not unwelcome. He keeps going, as if he's lost himself in the simple pleasure of touching you. "Your skin…it's so warm," he murmurs, voice a little breathless. The words are like smoke from his lips, his body shivering against yours. "I didn't expect—"

A soft noise sounds from his throat, and Shoot tugs you closer against himself, his body molding against yours like clay. "It's been too long. I've missed the touch of warm skin," he complains, leaning forward to bury his face into your neck.

Uvogin

Uvogin is in control— a gentle yet calloused hand against the sensitive skin of your jaw, lips moving against yours. When he speaks, his voice is soft, gentle, and deep- "Mmmm, I could kiss you forever." He murmurs against your lips, his thumb tracing soft patterns upon your neck, as if mapping out the shape of your pulse.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, gently nipping, then kissing again. He's pinning you against a wall, his body trapping you against it, his hips against yours.

Another kiss, deep and hungry, tongue pressing against your lips in an almost desperate demand for more of you. Uvogin doesn't speak, his mouth busy, claiming, exploring.  His hands roam up your back, pulling you flush to his chest. "You're so perfect," he mutters in between kisses, his voice husky, heavy with a desire he seems unable to control. One hand slides into your hair, holding your head in place, his body pressing you down, holding you in place against the wall.

His lips travel down your jawline, across your neck, teeth nipping and tongue soothing in a pattern that is both maddening and delicious.

Wing

Wings tongue slips between your lips as he draws you in for a kiss. His hands grip at your body, pulling you close, pressing you close until you can barely move. His head tilts slightly to the side, lips moving at a slow, torturous pace. He seems to drink you in, savoring the taste of you. He's gentle, oh so gentle, and yet at the same time he can't bring his lips away from yours. "Please," he whispers, his voice a low growl when he pulls away just enough to speak. "Please don't let me go, not now. I haven't seen you in weeks."

Wings arms are wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you tight against him as if he'll die if he lets you go.

He presses his body close to yours, his head leaning on your shoulder. He's desperate for a moment of peace and your presence, and yet he knows that you could leave at any moment. "I won't." Wing grip around you tightens at those words. He inhales shakily, his body shuddering. His breath brushes over your neck, warm against your skin.

"Say it again." He demands, lifting his head to look up at you. Despite his firm tone, his eyes are soft, almost pleading. He's desperate to hear it from you, for you to reassure him.

"I won't leave you." When you promise him that, he releases a shuddering breath. "Thank you."

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ɴ ɪ ɢ ʜ ᴛ ᴡ ɪ ɴ ɢ ⸻

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Dick’s obsession isn’t born from malice or control—it’s born from love that he can’t let go of, love that consumes him and twists into something far more dangerous. His inherent empathy and need to protect mutate into suffocating possession when it comes to you.

You’re someone he meets while working as Nightwing—perhaps a civilian caught in the crossfire or someone aiding him on a mission. Your kindness, your bravery in the face of danger, captivates him. For someone like Dick, who has spent his life saving others, your ability to stand tall despite the world’s darkness becomes a light he can’t ignore.

But then the cracks begin to show.

You start noticing him everywhere. If you casually mention a favorite café, he’s suddenly a regular there too. When you run errands, he just happens to cross paths with you. At first, his bright smile and boyish charm disarm you. "What a coincidence," he says, as if he hasn’t been planning these encounters for days.

You come home one day to find an item you mentioned in passing—a book, a scarf, something small. There’s no note, but you know it’s from him. He swears it’s just a friendly gesture, but the way he watches you when you thank him says otherwise.

For Dick, these actions feel natural. He’s always been attentive to those he loves, always ready to go the extra mile. He doesn’t realize—or refuses to acknowledge—that these gestures aren’t innocent anymore.

When you’re hurt—even slightly—it awakens something primal. The fear of losing you mixes with the ghosts of everyone he’s lost before, and he can’t bear the thought.

Dick isn’t one to stalk in shadows; he convinces himself his obsession is protection. He keeps tabs on you, memorizing every detail of your routine. He tells himself he just wants to ensure your safety, but when you start to notice him everywhere—at the coffee shop you frequent, outside your workplace, even at your doorstep—it feels deliberate.

You confront him, but his response is calm, disarmingly charming.

“I’m just looking out for you. You mean too much to me.”

And there’s that vulnerability in his voice that makes it hard to push him away completely.

Dick’s obsession grows insidious. He’s subtle, using his charm and resourcefulness to insert himself into every corner of your life. A coworker who’s been bothering you suddenly transfers to another department. Your apartment’s locks mysteriously upgrade overnight, and Dick is the first to offer to show you how they work.

When someone flirts with you, the shift in his demeanor is terrifying. The usually affable, kind man becomes something colder, his jaw clenched as he watches from the sidelines. Later, the person who dared approach you ends up in a minor but suspicious accident.

“Don’t you see?” he tells you, his voice laced with desperation one night when you question his behavior. “I’ve already lost so much. I can’t lose you too.”

Dick doesn’t think he’s doing anything wrong. His obsession is rooted in his fear of abandonment, his compulsion to save everyone he cares about. But in trying to protect you, he becomes your greatest danger.

"You’re the only thing keeping me grounded.” He leans on you emotionally, making you feel guilty for trying to push him away.

"I’m doing this for us.” He convinces himself every action, no matter how bad, is for your benefit.

When you try to leave, it shatters him. Dick isn’t someone who handles rejection well when it comes to people he loves. He pleads at first, his voice breaking with emotion. But when you insist, you see the darker side of his devotion.

“I can’t let you go. Don’t you see? I need you.”

His obsession becomes suffocating. He starts isolating you, not out of malice, but because he genuinely believes the world outside is too dangerous for you.

The most chilling part of Dick’s obsession is his duality. By day, he’s the same charming, selfless man everyone admires. But with you, behind closed doors, he’s desperate, controlling, and unrelenting.

He’ll kiss your forehead softly, whispering, “I love you,” as if nothing is wrong.

But then he’ll cage you in with his presence, ensuring you can never leave.

In his mind, he’s your protector, your savior, and your soulmate. He would go to any lengths to keep you safe—even if that means keeping you locked away from the rest of the world. After all, he’s lost so much already. He won’t lose you, too.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[raekensluver]

the thanksgiving lie (introduction)

introduction, part one

description: every year, your mother calls to nag you about whether you're bringing anyone to thanksgiving. this time, you panic and say the first name that comes to mind- spencer reid.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

contains: fake dating trope, fluff

song rec: there is a light that never goes out by the smiths "and in the darkened underpass i thought, oh god, my chance has come at last"

w.c: 1.3k

an: happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate!

"mom, i've got to go," you said, your eyes darting to the clock.

with the phone pressed to your ear, you could almost feel the anticipation radiating from the other side. "i know," your mom's voice chimed, "i'm sorry i just wanted to ask if you're bringing anyone special to thanksgiving this year?" her tone a perfect blend of hopefulness and curiosity. you paused, staring at the wall, the question hanging in the air like a forgotten halloween decoration. the clock ticked away, each second echoing louder than the last.

desperately, your gaze flitted around the room, searching for inspiration. and then, as if the universe had conspired to throw you a lifeline, it landed on spencer reid. he was engrossed in a book, the tip of his pen dancing across a notepad, lost in his own world of logic and analysis. you blurted out his name before your brain could catch up with your mouth. "yeah, actually, i might bring someone," you said, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. "who?" your mom's tone shot up an octave, excitement seeping through the line.

your heart pounded as you watched spencer, who remained blissfully unaware of the chaos he had just been unwittingly dragged into. you took a deep breath and hoped for the best. "spencer reid," you replied, as casually as you could manage. there was a beat of silence on the other end of the call, long enough for you to wonder if she had heard you correctly.

spencer looked up, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face as he met your eyes. you swallowed hard, your hand tightening around the phone. "spencer reid?" your mom repeated, her voice now filled with excitement. "the one who works with you at the bureau? oh, that's wonderful! i can't wait to finally meet the man who makes you talk about work even on weekends." she said, her voice brimming with approval. you nodded, even though she couldn't see you, feeling a mix of relief and dread. you hadn't even considered the possibility that she might actually believe you.

spencer's gaze remained on you, his brow furrowed slightly. you knew he had overheard your end of the conversation. your cheeks flushed as you realized you hadn't even asked him yet. "mom, i have to go now," you said quickly, cutting off any further questions she might have. "i'll let you know for sure when i know more, okay?" you didn't wait for her response before ending the call, the silence ringing in your ears.

you set the phone down, turning to face spencer. "so, about thanksgiving," you began, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. his eyes never left yours, the curiosity now a full-blown question mark. "yeah?" he said, his voice even, betraying no emotion.

swallowing your nerves, you plunged ahead. "i might have accidentally told my mom that i'm bringing someone," you admitted, watching for his reaction. spencer's eyebrows shot up, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. "oh?" was all he said, his gaze never wavering.

you took his calm demeanor as a good sign and continued. "so, do you have any plans for thanksgiving?" you asked, trying to sound as casual as you could while your stomach was doing somersaults. "not particularly," he replied, setting his book aside and placing his notepad on the coffee table. "why do you ask?"

his curiosity had turned into suspicion, the gears in his brilliant mind already turning. "well, i kind of… mentioned that you might come with me to my family's dinner," you said, the words tumbling out of your mouth. his eyes widened a fraction, the only indication that he was surprised by your revelation. "you did?"

his voice remained neutral, but you could see the wheels turning behind those piercing blue eyes. "yeah," you nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. "i just thought, you know, it would be nice to have someone to talk to, and she's been asking every year if i'm bringing anyone special, and this year i just panicked and said your name." you rushed to explain, your words coming out in a jumbled mess.

spencer leaned back into his chair, his fingers tapping a silent rhythm on the armrest. "interesting," he said. "and what exactly does 'might come with you' entail?" he inquired, his gaze never leaving yours.

you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to organize your thoughts. "it means, if you don't have any plans, you could come with me to my parents' place for thanksgiving," you said, hoping the simplicity of the offer would be enough. "you know, to meet the family, eat some turkey, pretend to be my boyfriend for a night?"

his expression didn't change, but his tapping stopped. "pretend to be your boyfriend?" he echoed, his voice a tad skeptical. "what makes you think i would agree to that?"

you felt your cheeks grow hotter, but you didn't back down. "desperate times call for desperate measures," you said with a weak smile. "please, spencer. i don't know what else to do. she'll never let up if i go alone again."

spencer studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then, with a sigh, he leaned forward. "alright, i'll do it," he said, holding up a hand to stop your relieved rush of words.

you felt a weight lift from your shoulders, but your heart remained in your throat. "really?" you asked.

"really," spencer said, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "but only if you promise me one thing."

you nodded eagerly, willing to agree to almost anything at this point. "anything," you said, hope blossoming in your chest.

"you have to tell me everything about your family," spencer said, his smile growing slightly. "i want to be prepared."

you nodded, a wave of gratitude washing over you. "i will," you promised, "i'll fill you in on the drive."

spencer's smile grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. "deal," he said, standing up and extending his hand to shake on it. you took his hand, feeling a jolt of excitement run up your arm. "thursday it is,"

[anlxcqrd]

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄

sypnosis: the strongest lets you wear his blindfold and things escalated very quickly.

contains: friends to lovers? p in v, oral sex, etc.

pairings: gojo satoru/reader

warnings: mdni nsfw ahead!

a/n: took a break and now im here. sorry if it sucks cause i didn't proofread it cause im still busy :(

"Like who puts milk first? Some people are just a bunch of psychos!" He clasps both sides of his head in a dramatic way as he ranted.

"Uh huh"

"Don't give me that 'oh it's to prevent my cereal from getting soggy' shit. I can't understand them Y/N!" He whined and you put your mug down on the coffee table where his long legs where resting.

"You know what I don't understand?" You look at him and he tilts his head to the side as if to say 'what'. "How you can see through your blindfold. I get that you have the six eyes but i dont get how the seeing through shits works. Can you also see other objects?" You look at him as if he was a flat earther and he only laughs.

"That's cause im cool." He arrogantly brushed his hair back. "And only cool people can do this!" You roll your eyes knowing you're not getting a proper answer from him.

"Wanna try wearing it?" He asks you and you immediately shake your head. "No! You're gonna tire yourself out and I was just-" he cuts you off. "Look, I might say that a lot but trust me I'm not that weak and its only for fun! Its not like you're going to burn it or something."

His long fingers then trail to the top of his blindfold and pulled it down slowly. There you can see his mesmerizing azure eyes staring down at you. "Here." He hands you his blindfold.

You reluctantly take it from him and you slide it on. As expected, you can't see anything. Just right before you can take it off, a pair of lips meet yours, capturing you in a tender yet deep kiss.

"Mmh!" You push him away and took off the blindfold. You see him looking at you with a flushed face. "Y/N I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me I just-" you kiss him cutting off whatever he said. His eyes widen and immediately kisses you back.

And thats how you end up face down ass up taking in the meanest backshots you've ever received. "Fuck!" He spanked your ass hard making you squirm. His huge hands gripped your hips hard to keep you in place.

The way he was pistoning into you made you tear up from how it good it felt. You wish you can see him through the blindfold that was preventing you from seeing.

"Satoruuu" you whine as he rubbed tight circles on your clit making your legs tremble. His tip was kissing your g-spot trying his best not to hit your cervix and cause any discomfort. "Y/N" he whimpered your name, he feels like his hips had a mind of its own, moving on its own like it was a hungry beast.

As the teacher's lounge was filled with sounds of your hips hitting each other along with your moans and whimpers. He flips you on your back and kisses you again. This abyss is something you never want to escape. Your souls were colliding, fading into each other as you made love with passion.

"I'm cummin' ngh can i cum in you? Please let me cum in you." He begged desperate to release himself inside your gummy walls.

"yes please cum in me. Fill me up satoru." You nod vigorously, drunk in his touch and love. He kneaded your breasts, pulling and pinching them as he picks his pace up desperate to cum.

"Ah-yes fuck yes!" He groaned feeling his balls tighten as they hit your ass. "Don't stop, please! Fuck right there yes!!" Your eyes roll back behind the fabric as you fill his warm cum fill you up.

His trembling hands sloppily takes off the blindfold, giving you access to see again. He groped your breast and sucked the other one as he grinds into you again.

You kiss him before moving down to his still-hard cock. You kiss his tip and pre cum leaked out of him. As you start sucking him off he licks a long stripe on your cunt making you gasp and almost lose your balance. "Ah! Satoru wait- ngh!" He only pushes your head further down and fucks your mouth.

after what felt like an eternity you both reached your limits and is now cuddled up on the couch. You kiss his cheek and he holds you closer.

The silence went on for a long time until you hear the door open.

Oh shit.

[stargirlrchive]

SMUT — cassian x fem!reader, ‘just the tip’ sex, straight pwp like fr, my fav batboy 4everrr + not edited bc im sleepy

Cassian’s nose trailed down your throat, inhaling deeply before a low growl released from his throat. His tongue dipped lower, down between the valley of your breast and your core ached.

A thick hand cupped your breast, rolling and pinching your nipple as he kissed and licked at the swell of your breast.

“Promised we were gonna take it slow.”

You nod meekly and your body betrayed you, desperately trying to get him closer. “Can’t fuck you yet, sweet girl.”

A frustrated whine left your lips, fingers tugging at his hair as his tongue flicked over your hardened nipple over the soft cotton of your sleep shirt. “I know, baby—I know. M’sorry.”

Thick, calloused hands roamed your hips, gripping and memorizing every inch of soft skin before the fabric lying on your hips was ripped off of you.

Your chest heaved as Cassian groaned softly, pushing your thighs apart to stare down at your cunt. So wet and ready for him.

“Please, Cass—”

He shushed you with a soft kiss to your mouth, gently grabbing your wrist and guiding it between the two of you. He pressed your palm to his length, rutting his thick cock against you. The fullness of him had you shivering, “Look what you do to me, baby. M’too big, gotta work you up to it.”

He raised your hand back up, pressing a gentle kiss to your palm before he rid himself of his grey sweats. His cock was heavy, swaying softly before his fingers wrapped around his girth to pump a few times.

He spread your legs further apart, making room for himself as he gripped the base of his cock, lazily rubbing the head against your clit.

“Fuck,” the low growl the left Cassian’s full lips had your nipples hardening and the arousal that had pooled between your thighs aided him as he began to thrust his cock between your folds.

One of his hands gently pressed down on the soft of your thigh—keeping your legs open for him, while the other guided his cock back and forth between the two of you.

His length glistened with your arousal, soft pearly beads of precum landing on your skin. Your body burned, ached with desperation.

Each time his tip knocked against your clit, a broken noise left your mouth. You wanted, no you needed to feel him closer.

“Please, Cass—just the tip. Oh Gods,” Each rut of his hips had you mewling beneath him, nails biting at your palm even with the fabric of the blanket fisted between your hands. “Please—”

You could see it in his eyes when his resolve broke, his pupils dilated; gaze wild and desperate as he pulled you closer. The power and restrain radiating off of him had your body going pliant beneath his as you begged him.

His cock slid between your slit one final time before he finally pushed into you.

Your toes curled, chest heaving as his thick cock pressed into you. Stretching you out with only the first few inches of his cock.

He gave you short, shallow thrust, using the pad of his thumb to circle your clit. A desperate whine left your mouth, thighs trembling beneath his each time he pressed in a little deeper.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Promised I’d take it slow with you but you make it so fuckin’ hard.”

Your mind was foggy with desire, fingers trailing up and down his chest and your cunt clenched around tip as the muscles in his abdomen tightened as your nails raked down his toned skin.

“Don’t need to take it slow, Cass. I can take it, promise.”

“Fuck.”

His hands moved from your thigh, up to your hips, then stomach, breast, and finally wrapped around your neck. Thick hands tilted your head up, leaning forward to press his lips to yours as he fucked the tip into you over and over again.

His mouth parted, tongue slipping into your mouth and eagerly swallowing down each pretty noise that left you. Thumb still circling your clit until your body tensed beneath his.

A desperate cry of his name left your mouth just as your orgasm reached you. White hot pleasure made your spine tingle, brain going fuzzy and empty as Cassian groaned above you.

He pulled out only seconds after, calloused finger fisting at his cock as he stroked himself desperately. The glassiness in your vision clearing just as his cum landed on your thigh, dripping down to your swollen cunt.

A lazily smile bloomed on your face as Cassian dipped his face down once again to kiss you. Fingers trailing all over you to pull you in closer as you mumbled against his lips, “I meant what I said, we don’t need to take it slow.”

[prettymfwrites]

You're Stuck With Us

Caitlyn x Vi x Injured Female Reader

Summary: You get badly injured and try to hide it from your girlfriends. (Angst & Fluff)

tried to make this VERY visual, so it may lag<3

♡*♡∞:｡.｡𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑 ｡.｡:∞♡*♡

The undercity's air hung heavy with tension as Caitlyn, Vi, and you navigated through the dimly lit alleyways. The trio had been tracking a lead on Jinx, but the path had led to Sevika instead—never a simple encounter.

The fight broke out before words could be exchanged. Sevika's bionic arm whirred with power, swinging dangerously close to Vi, who expertly dodged before landing a solid punch to Sevika's side. Caitlyn covered from a distance, sharp eyes tracking Sevika’s movements as she fired calculated shots.

"She's tougher than usual," Caitlyn muttered, reloading her rifle.

"I’ve got her!" Vi shouted, grappling Sevika and exchanging brutal punches. You moved to help, keeping Sevika’s attention split, dodging her arm as she swung in your direction.

But then Caitlyn found her opening. A sharp crack echoed through the alley as her bullet hit Sevika’s bionic arm. Sparks flew, and the mechanical limb sputtered and hissed before ceasing to function.

Sevika staggered, her face twisting in frustration. "I'll let your sweet sister do the honors." She growled, retreating backwards slowly before turning around fully.

"Bitch." Vi huffed under her breath, panting as she leaned on her knees.

The adrenaline was still pumping as Caitlyn approached, checking her rifle for damage. "Everyone alright?" she asked, her eyes darting between you and Vi.

"Peachy," Vi replied with a smirk, though her limp betrayed her bravado.

You forced a smile, hoping to hide the growing chill in your body. Looking down, you noticed a dark stain spreading across your shirt. The sharp pain in your side you’d ignored during the fight now screamed for attention.

"You okay, muffin?" Vi asked, noticing your slight wince.

"Yeah," you lied, brushing it off. "Just... cold and sore. I really want to lie down."

Vi narrowed her eyes at you, but nodded. She shrugged off her jacket and draped it over your shoulders. "Here. Let’s get out of here."

Caitlyn looped her arm under Vi’s, supporting her as the three of you began walking through the winding alleys. They started talking, discussing the next steps in tracking Jinx and throwing in playful jabs at each other. You tried to join in but found yourself unusually quiet, focusing instead on keeping one foot in front of the other.

The world around you blurred as the streetlights began to smudge together. Your hand drifted to your side, coming away slick with blood. You stared at your palm, your vision swimming, before your knees buckled.

"Hey—!" Vi shouted, but Caitlyn caught you before you hit the ground.

"What's going on?!" Vi knelt beside you, panic flaring in her voice.

Caitlyn’s face twisted in worry as she cradled you. "She’s shaking—" Her words stopped abruptly as she felt the wetness seep through her lap. Pulling her hand away, she saw the blood.

Her breath hitched. "No, no, no. Please, no."

Vi’s gaze followed Caitlyn’s to the crimson spreading from under her jacket. She immediately began unbuttoning it to assess the wound. "Damn it, why didn’t you say anything?!" she growled, pressing her hands to the wound.

You tried to answer, but your breaths came too shallow, too fast. Vi cursed under her breath, her voice cracking as she muttered, "Stay with us. Please, muffin."

Together, Vi and Caitlyn hoisted you up, Vi carrying you bridal style as they broke into a desperate sprint for the surface. Caitlyn’s voice rang out, calling for help as they stumbled into the topside streets.

People quickly gathered, gasping at the sight of your bloodied form. Medics rushed forward, and you were whisked away, leaving Vi and Caitlyn standing there, trembling and covered in your blood.

---

The waiting room was suffocatingly silent. Vi paced back and forth, fists clenched, while Caitlyn sat hunched, her head in her hands.

"Why didn’t I notice sooner?" Vi muttered, slamming her fist into the wall, the sound echoing through the room.

"Vi, stop," Caitlyn said softly, standing and pulling her partner into a hug. Vi’s tough exterior cracked as she buried her face in Caitlyn’s shoulder, tears soaking into her shirt.

"I should’ve done something," Vi choked out.

"You did," Caitlyn whispered. "We both did. She’s strong. She’ll pull through."

They stayed like that until a nurse entered, followed by Jayce. "You can see her now," the nurse said with a reassuring smile.

"Jayce?" Caitlyn asked, confused.

"I helped stabilize her with Hextech," he explained quickly, stepping aside.

They rushed into your room, their eyes immediately falling on you. You were pale, propped up in bed with an exhausted but warm smile.

"You’re awake," Caitlyn breathed, rushing to your side and gently taking your hand.

Vi was at your other side in an instant, her hands cradling your face as she pressed soft kisses to your forehead. "Don’t ever scare us like that again, muffin," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"Not my best moment," you joked weakly. "But hey, at least I got fancy Hextech upgrades now."

Their gazes shifted to your side, where your wound glowed faintly with blue light.

"Jayce works fast," Caitlyn said, shaking her head in disbelief before pulling him into a tight hug.

Vi chuckled softly, brushing her lips over the glowing wound. "You’re stuck with us, y’know that?"

"Wouldn’t have it any other way," you replied.

They stayed by your side that night, alternating between serious conversations and soft reassurances. Eventually, the room fell quiet as Vi and Caitlyn dozed off, each holding one of your hands. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

__________

I take requests!

[postcardsfromheapside]

I need to be salty for a hot second about people who are upset about aspects of Lucanis' romance.

I'll put everything else under the break for spoilers, but in general, I am so disappointed in a large portion of this fanbase who apparently thought "disaster" meant "romantasy," but also it's in keeping with how a lot of people seem unable to put things in context.

One of the complaints I keep seeing run past is that the scene where you commit to a relationship with Lucanis seems pefunctory, or out of the blue, there's nothing really romantic about it, it's too similar to the platonic route, etc, etc, ETC.

I romanced Emmrich, but I've seen other people's versions of romancing Lucanis. I'm just going to kind of word vomit here, and hope I can come up with something cohesive.

As someone who id's with Lucanis for "generational abuse" and "dumpster fire disaster bi" and "using socially acceptable drugs as coping mechanisms in place of addressing your problems" reasons, it's been really fucking annoying watching the almost deliberate misinterpretation of his character even after Mary Kirby dropped several explanations on social media. It's like a large part of the fanbase saw all that and turned into the "yes yes, very sad...anyway!" meme and went right on fetishizing him...then got mad when he didn't turn into the seductive Dom with wings they were hoping for.

You commit to Lucanis after (what I consider) a very intense scene inside his "mind prison." He's struggling so much internally that Spite wrests control of his body from him in front of witnesses and begs Rook to help them. Lucanis would never ask Rook to do so on his own, he's terrible at asking for the help he truly needs. Spite drags Rook into the Fade Ossuary and demands they free Lucanis from his self-imposed prison. And whether you're a friend or would-be lover, Rook slowly talks Lucanis out of a host of self doubts regarding his family and friends. Can he trust himself not to hurt other people, now that he's saddled with this affliction? Has he disappointed the people he cares about most? Do these new people he's coming to care about actually trust and care about him? The rooms are filled with fragmented thoughts that peter out into regrets. You're literally seeing Lucanis' fractured and complicated emotions.

One of them tore a hole straight through me: "You'd have to kill me...And Spite would die."

You'd have to kill him to get rid of the demon. And he'd regret the death of the demon that's protected him and given him strength, through a brutal year of betrayal and torment. I don't know if y'all remember the scenes in the Ossuary of the failed experiments and the corpses you had to pass to get to his jar of blood. It wasn't fun.

When you break out of the mind prison after helping him bond with Spite, it's intimate and momentous, even on a platonic route. You've seen desperate and lonely parts of him he'd never willingly show anyone.

As you're convincing Lucanis that it's okay to leave his mind-prison, you tell him you understand that it's easier to deal with problems like the Ossuary and Zara than healing and living with Spite, potentially hurting people he cares about. But he wants to. It's Rook's job to help him see a path out, a way for him to make the struggle easier so he can begin to heal himself.

I need to stress: you aren't "fixing" him. You're acting as his lighthouse, regardless of whether you're a friend or a lover. Sometimes people need help. He's still going to have to do the work to get there.

As a friend, it was extremely rewarding to come back to the kitchen and see him doing exactly as I'd hoped: moving on with the business of *living*. He made a nice dinner for everyone he's come to care for, and a special dessert for Neve. Cooking is where Lucanis finds creativity, and comfort, and connection with his friends and family. He isn't very good with words, but he will note everything you consume, and try to make you feel loved by expressing it that way.

Which is why I think it's important you don't dismiss the commitment on the romantic route. He remembers YOUR favorite drink and makes YOU a special dessert if you're romancing him. Lucanis isn't going to get poetic. You've already made him feel raw. You've seen the ugly, embarassing parts of him. What is he supposed to say? Usually it takes Spite reaching through his body to actually be direct. Instead, Lucanis reaches for food, his favorite medium, to try and apologize for inadvertently showing you those things, to thank you for helping him despite seeing what he considers the most shameful parts of him. Your commitment is letting him know that you value him, that he has nothing to be ashamed of, that you understand what he's trying to express with his struggling communication skills, which appear to get better as your relationship progresses from there.

It's weird that some of y'all don't feel that this is heartfelt and important, because you'd rather him act out some sensuous fantasy trope. It's also weird that some of you haven't figured out that many scenes in RPG's can be similar on platonic and romantic routes with tweaks to shade context.

(Also just in case this comes up: cooking is not his "love language" - that whole concept was invented by a misogynistic weirdo and we should remove it from our ideas of communication)

Anyway, this guy is my Rook's bestie and I'll go down swinging for him, you should appreciate the fuck out of him and stop acting like his writer didn't craft a perfectly funny little weirdo who is bad at showing people his tender parts and terrible at interpersonal relationships.

[jarl-deathwolf]

EXCELLENT!

Ooo that is a lot of FANTASTIC information, I pulled up a document and got to work taking notes. I'll have to spend some time sorting it out into a handy reference sheet but even as-is this will help a lot.

I'm really glad I asked because this includes a lot of details that I wouldn't even know to ask, like the acidic/neutral/alkaline distinctions between forests. Between that and the wet/dry divide, now I can look at a map of around where the characters are and sus out roughly what they're looking at. It really does take away a lot of the stress when

Better yet, it gives me options so I can pick some possible environments to suit what I need in the story. Like choosing a wet forest if I need treacherous terrain, or a Celtic Rainforest to enhance the splendor of a moment.

Best of all, this gives me a vocabulary of things that I can then look up references for, and a bank of plants and animals I can pull up to add life to a scene.

One thing I've really struggled with in this story has been giving the region its own distinct feel compared to other woodlands. Which is doubly important since the entire story revolves around people desperately trying to save it (and their culture) from being destroyed by colonization and conquest.

That section was pretty thorough, so I'll have to digest it for a while before I've got more questions there.

Anyway, getting into more specific comments, as well as the map, below:

(map by @noanieactuallydrawingalot) So this is the continent where the stories take place as a whole. I may or may not have made the Fells (Fantasy Wales) something like five times as large as its real counterpart. Here is more specifically the Fells, with the three big rivers named (I assume there are many more rivers and small lakes, these are just major ones) and the historic realms of the Fells marked out

I've tentatively named some broader regions, but I'm not confident about those just yet. Red dots denote major cities. The yellow line is where the old empire's borders were - those five Fellish realms are still fully under foreign rule, with four more ruled by Marcher Lords, which is just more tenuous foreign rule.

Let me know how I did with the geography and such! I've done a lot of free time studying and took a college course about it, but things like the effects of ocean currents and wind patterns always tripped me up. Anyway, I'm glad I ended up pretty close with Old Man Ash. I think he would be fine with the informal version - the other name he gets called in the story is Grandad, so I get the sense he cares more about people being comfortable in his presence than formality. Although keep me updated on if your inlaws have a different opinion - I'll need to contact my editor to update the PDF, so I'd rather do that just once. With what you said about broadleaves being exclusively what makes up the old growth forests, I wonder if that would mean that all Dagfolk would be based on broadleaves? 🧐 Since I'm sending pictures, here is the (now properly named) Hynafwr Onn:

(art by dinwardo over on twitter)

Before I move onto the next thing, just a quick question: I have another Dagfolk (like Grandad up there). His current placeholder name is the Great Oak, and he's considered the wisest and most powerful of the Dagfolk. A personal friend of King Arthur.

I don't suppose you'd have a suggestion for a name?

I am delighted that you bring up bards because I made the main character a Fellish bard by the name of Llywela ferch Marared. She plays a crwth and I like to have her make subtle references to Welsh songs like Sebona Fi and Yma O Hyd. I gave her uncommonly red hair to imply a connection with Annwyn.

(I realize that's not the usual spelling of Annwn, but I chose it so I wasn't directly cribbing mythology and making it harder for people to learn about those myths) I also have some commissioned art of Llywela, plus the Lady of the Lake and the Merlin analogue, for what it is worth. You mentioned faeries with the peat bogs. I don't think faeries will be making a huge appearance in this story (mostly just one knight), but I'd be glad to hear about Welsh-specific faerie lore if you've got it on hand.

You also said that cheeses were a big Welsh cultural touchstone. Are there Welsh specific varieties that you can tell me about? And what sort of dishes are they made into?

Also on that train of thought, you mentioned a plant that flavors mead - would that be the go-to alcohol of choice, or are there others floating around? Both for a lord's table and what you might find in an inn.

And thanks again for the response, this really has been a treasure trove of great information for me!

Hi hello! I'm writing a story in my original world, set in a Fantasy Wales. A King Arthur Returns type story, if that matters.

I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about Welsh ecology? And possibly also some cultural details?

Thanks ahead of time! And I understand if you decline or don't respond!

YES OH MY GOD YES HELLO