#trying to get any of my friends to watch him

[nezuscribe]

(previous part)

it's been a week since you've spoken to arranged!gojo, and he feels like he's about to start going crazy.

you don't speak during your meals, not even when he addresses you in a question. sometimes you spare him a glance, but he'd still rather see your icy glare than see nothing at all.

and he knows he fucked up. he knows that you seeing him alone with anya was perhaps the worst possible place you could’ve caught him, but he's been almost begging you to listen to him, to hear his side. but every time he goes to explain you leave abruptly, leaving him alone, feeling the looks of pity from those around the two of you.

and you know you're being petty. after all, the two of you are only bound by words, nothing else. if anything, the two of you were just becoming friends, so this shouldn't hurt you as much as it does.

but you hear the whispers of the ladies, hear of their secret proposals of how gojo would surely bed them if they just asked. how miserable he must be trapped with you, how this marriage is ruining his life. and you know anya, know about her history with him. before you were his wife you were the higher echelon wallflower, listening to all the gossip, observing from afar.

you've gathered some ideas in your head as to why he might want to speak with you. perhaps he wants to gently break the news that he's found a mistress, one that he actually loves. or that maybe he's already had one and now you know why he's been so secretive.

so the more he tries to talk to you, the more you pull away. you don't know why he cares so much, why this even matters to him. if anything, you feel like he should be content with your silence.

but he's not, and gojo grows more restless by the hour.

he decides he can't live like this anymore. tonight he's going to make you listen to him, even if you want nothing to do with him.

you're holed up in your room, talking with alina as she dabs lavender oil on your neck before you go to sleep. you know she knows about your silence with gojo, but ever friend, she does nothing to bring it up.

well, she wouldn't have to if he didn't come knocking feverishly at your door.

you watch in your mirror as she peeks her head out, her gasp of surprise causing a sinking pit to form in your stomach. you can hear how she scrambles with the titles of my lord, how she explains that you're nearly about to go to sleep.

it's late, the only light is the flickering of the candles on your nightstand. he should be asleep by now.

gods, you wonder for the millionth time this week, why does he care so much?

alina finishes up, closing the door slightly as she turns to you, her eyes finding yours in the mirror.

"i'm sorry my lady," she bows her head almost apologetically, "but my lord wants to talk to you. he's requested me to leave...if you'll excuse me," she bows, quickly leaving, not giving you any time to actually excuse her. you know she can't stay any longer, but you do wish she put up more of a fight. you watch her skirt bustle away, the door being left slightly ajar.

you try to act nonchalant, continuing to dab the oil onto your wrists as you look down, even when you hear the door click shut, even when you can feel his presence several feet behind you.

you sigh through your nose, heat rising to your cheeks.

"what?" you bite out, your own voice shocking you. you want to get this over with, not too desperate to hear about how he's ready to take on a mistress and shun you away.

you can hear him take in a deep breath, your eyes briefly looking up in the mirror to catch his, the same ones that make your knees weak, and avert your gaze.

"you haven't spoken to me in over a week," he says after a beat of silence.

you shrug indifferently, despite the fact that he could probably ask you the specific amount of hours it's been since the two of you had talked and you'd give an accurate number.

"i've been busy," you murmur, taking your earrings off as you place them gently in the little glass bowl to the side.

he doesn't say anything about your blatant lie, just nods slowly, as if he understands.

"i missed hearing you talk," gojo tells you quietly, almost as if his voice had been stuck in his throat, and you wonder if any man before him had ever tried to sweet talk his wife before he told her about his new mistress.

you don't say anything, still refusing to look at him as you stand up from your seat, turning off one of the candles near you as you smooth out some of the wrinkles of your nightgown.

"is this what you really want to tell me gojo?" you say bluntly, looking to the side momentarily, getting a longer look at his bulky figure, how he tries to make himself seem smaller, "that you miss my stupid jokes and dull stories?"

"they're not stupid," he quickly cuts in, his voice a little stronger, brows furrowed, "and i like your stories."

you roll your eyes, moving around the bed, to the side where he's not, and fluff your pillows. you've never found this useful, but it gives you something to do with your hands other than fidgeting with them.

truth be told, you're reflecting. you're scared of what it is he has to say, and so you try to appear stronger, and less caring, despite the fact that it's tearing you apart.

you try not to feel self-conscious of the fact that this is his first time ever seeing your room, or the fact that it's so bland. you didn't come to this estate with many things, and so you've tried to spruce up the space as much as you can, but aside from the few flowers and paintings on the wall, you fear it looks bland compared to everything else he's seen.

"and no," gojo adds, running a hand through his already tousled white hair as his arms crossed over his chest, and you finally allow yourself to stare at him, "that's not all i wanted to say."

he paused for a second.

"i don't know why i followed her out, or why i even stayed to hear her speak, but she kept saying these things about..." he trails off, gnawing on his lips as your eyes narrow slightly.

"me?" you finish for him, and his eyes dart to yours.

gojo nods a little bit, arms bulging a little bit as if remembering what she had said.

"i'm used to people staring at me, i lived with it my entire life. but with you, people..." he struggles to find words, "people stare longer. and i don't know why."

you raise a brow.

"do you want me to explain?" you say and he looks at you briefly, almost in a brazen way.

he shakes his head as if he had steered off track.

"that's beside the point. what i wanted to tell you is that she...she was saying some nonsense and i was about to leave until she offered for me to stay at the hostelry she was at." his blue eyes are wavering, his finger itching to get closer to you. this stupid bed is in the middle of you two and he wishes it were gone.

your breathing hitches a little bit, and you hope he doesn't see the sad tilt on your lips.

"so i banished her. or, well, i guess you saw her and then i banished her, but i would've done it regardless," he explains hurriedly, "look, i'm sorry...really sorry. if you want me to-"

"you banished her?" you cut him off, voice raised slightly in confusion.

his mouth gapes open for a second, and then blinks slowly, nodding.

"of...course," he tilts his head, his gorgeous head, slightly "you know that i am married, right? to you? she was offering to-"

"i thought you were going to tell me that you slept with her. o-or i don't know! that you were going to make her your mistress or something!" you spew out, your voice raised as you pace around the floor, moving a little bit closer to him as his eyes widen.

"why would you ever think that?" gojo says in a panicked tone, nothing like the man who commanded the northern army, but more like somebody who was watching his world burn in front of him.

"why?" you exclaim, shocked, "why? are you daft? every single woman wants to sleep with you! every single time we host those dinners, o-or we go to those parties, they look at you and they look at me and they pity you. i hear the whispers of the ladies, how they wouldn't mind being the other woman."

gojo hears the way your voice wavers, how your lips tremble, and the way you try not to let your bottom lip quiver. he sees the way you try to stay strong, to keep your image unbridled, but right now he feels like he's watching you break and he doesn't know what to do.

"so? what makes you think i'd do anything with them?" gojo argues, his voice raised a little bit, not in shouting, but in genuine disbelief.

you take a moment to step back and observe his behavior, and a nagging voice in your head tells you that he's telling you the truth. that he's concerned and worried, that maybe all he came to tell you tonight was an apology.

but that can't be correct.

so you sigh, your arms crossed over your chest protectively.

"i...i don't know," you murmur, "you sleep in another wing, you're always away. i thought...maybe..." you can't meet his eyes, fidgeting with the ring on your finger.

gojo takes a step forward, lips parted, cheeks rosy and flushed.

the two of you don't say anything for a minute, his chest heaving up and down. you feel like there's a weight both removed and added onto your shoulder.

"why didn't you say anything?" he whispers, "did you think...did you think i was...?" he can't finish the sentence, the words themselves too gruesome.

he doesn't say anything as he takes another tentative step closer.

you watch him, your eyes mirroring one another.

"i made a vow to you," his voice is heavy, traveling across the spanning stone walls, going deep into your bones, "and even if you prefer me to be your friend, i'll keep to that vow till the day i die."

your eyes gloss over, lips trembling.

you don't say anything, taking a couple steps forward as you smash against his chest, face crumpling against the stone wall of his torso as you hug him tightly, hoping that he can't feel the tears that seep through his nightshirt.

never in your life has somebody made a promise to you. and never in your life has somebody kept to that promise.

"thank you," you murmur, your voice muffled as his arms wrap around your body, steady and strong.

"and anyways, i'd prefer to be married to you than those miserable women any day," he mumbles into your hair and you laugh wetly, squeezing your arms tighter.

"really?" you say, tears blurring your vision.

"really," he hums, not able to say anything because he fears what you'd say if he told you that he'd rather be your husband and your friend. but he'd keep that inside, respecting your wishes.

if only he knew you wished the same.

[00kittenz]

── homie hoppin’ ( lhs, pjs, sjy, psh ) ּ 𓂅⋆ 📙

๑ Heeseung never wanted to believe the rumors about you around campus, to him you could never do wrong and he sees you as nothing less than an angel. But when his friends begin telling him about their nightly escapades with some “mystery girl” that sounds awfully familiar, he grows more suspicious of your true intentions you’ve been hiding all along.

pair: hyung line ㅊ f!reader, college au | warnings: pwp, smut, angst (kinda ??), hook-up culture, yn is the biggest fuckgirl omg (but she’s sooo cuntyy), humour, slut-shaming (not from the boys), daddy kink, oral (m + f. rec), mentions of running a train but it doesn’t happen lol, lots of s.x flashbacks, yn is so unbothered by everything 😴, unprotected s.x (yikes !!!) | teaser wc: 857

thanks to @leeechin & @pshbites for enabling this idea LOL, couldn’t have done it without them frfr. also here’s a silly little preview of what’s to come (it gets real MESSY in this sfdsfsd)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

heeseung was never really the type to ever engage in gossip or drama going around campus. he’d rather simply mind his business and keep it moving, it was useless to entertain it anyway— most of the rumors held zero truth or any proof to back them up. what does seem to grab his attention however, is your name being constantly brought up in almost everyone’s mouths. you were the talk of the whole school and it wasn’t anything good that was being said about the girl he’s been sleeping around with on and off for the past few months or so.

“oh you know about y/n? isn’t she the one who’s always bouncing from one friend group to the next ? i wouldn’t trust her around my man even for a second..”

“didn’t she let leehan hit it at that party last night ? that girl needs to be stopped, she’s always messing around with different guys..”

“wasn’t she just with eunseok last week ? he was telling me all about how him and sungchan took turns on her.”

he couldn’t believe half the stuff that was being said about you. not only was it just plain disrespectful, but it was also disgusting how some people could spew such fabricated nonsense as if you weren’t a real human being with feelings. heeseung knew you two weren’t exclusive but you’ve been seeing each other more frequently, which made him think he might have a chance to make things official. at least he thought so, until he saw you talking with one of his close friends, jaeyun in the library. you both were way too close for comfort and the way you were giving him those same bedroom eyes that you’d always flash at heeseung, made his whole body fill up with an unimaginable amount of rage.

you were quite popular and well known around campus, your charming persona and pretty face was the perfect combo to get anyone to fall head over heels for you. everywhere you went you’d turn heads, all the boys would be breaking their necks just to get a glimpse of you. the tiny skirts you’d always wear had their eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, which only made the other girls seethe in utter jealousy. the way you could command an entire room without even trying was a superpower in itself, you didn’t need to put in the extra work to get all the attention on you because everyone gave it to you automatically.

it wasn’t until heeseung began hearing more about his friend’s sex lives that he’d grow more suspicious of what’s really going on. he usually zones out and doesn’t really listen much whenever they talked about it, but since the movie they were watching wasn’t all that interesting, he began shifting his attention to his friends. jaeyun and jongseong were always bragging about how much pussy they’d get but they seemed to hyperfocus on one particular girl that seems to get brought up a lot in their conversations. jaeyun would say how she gave him the ‘most life changing head’ he’s ever received, meanwhile jongseong was describing how some girl he fucked a few days ago rode his dick like a grade A pornstar.

heeseung wasn’t adding much of his input into the conversation, and neither was sunghoon as he tends to keep that part of his life more private. but, what made him suddenly wanna jump up in his seat was when jaeyun was telling them how hot the girl looked when he fucked her from behind, she had a back tattoo and he thought that was the sexiest shit ever. he never specified exactly what the tattoo was, but he remembers that you also had one too. maybe he’s just reading too much into it ? could it really be you they were talking about ? nah.. there’s no way. he’s sure there’s plenty other women with back tattoos walking around campus, it simply could be an eerie coincidence. he knows he isn’t the only one that you’re sleeping with, but to mess around with his friends would be a new low for him. he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he were to find out that happened..

his worries would only worsen when he catches sunghoon smiling and faintly giggling at his phone about something, to which jongseong asks him what’s so funny. sunghoon simply shrugs it off and says it’s nothing, quickly locking his phone before he lifts up from the couch to announce that he’s going back to his dorm. they all exchange their goodbyes and wish him a safe walk back to his place. but when he left, he was walking in the direction completely opposite of his dorm, he was heading the exact same way it took to get to your building instead. now he’s really starting to overthink at this point. there’s absolutely no way you’re actually fucking all of his friends and he doesn’t have a single clue about it. heeseung may be quite oblivious at times but he isn’t that stupid. he’s probably overreacting. again, could just be a very weird coincidence… right ?

just leave a comment if you wanna be added to the taglist ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Unhinged

Jason Todd x Reader

MDNI wc: 0.7K summary: your roommate finds your messages you send your friend about him. warnings: suggestive themes, no y/n used, actually kind of cringe a/n: my dear friend accidently gave me this idea while spamming me with delicious Red Hood edits (@dollyure), evidence will be shared at the end. enjoy!!

You never thought this could happen. You were so careful to leave your own thoughts to yourself and never let Jason see the things you tell your friend. But of course, nothing really goes your way for some reason.

It took one thing for you to end up in this situation. One thing. And that was leaving your phone unattented on the sofa for a minute. Unlocked.

It was a typical evening as any other, just getting to relax and wind down at the end of the week on your favourite spot at the couch with your roommate. Jason was always pretty quiet but respectful of the shared space, a good friend if you want to wind down together. You rarely get to see him in the evenings but on days like this, when he stays in, it feels like a small reward for you.

Of course he doesn‘t know about any of this. Doesn‘t know anything about what your silly texts between you and your friends. You keep it a secret pretty well, so he won‘t think you are a complete weirdo.

Well, until that evening. Setting your phone quickly aside to get to your boiling tea kettle, you forgot to lock it. Jason sits at the other end of the fluffy couch and watches how you scurry away to get the boiling water to a stop. With an amused grin he gets back to his book but keeps getting distracted by the bright phonescreen just a little away from him. Glancing over, he sees the outlines of text bubbles but he can‘t see what‘s written in there yet.

He isn‘t trying to pry or get into your privacy, but the way the other person spams you non-stop is making him more curious. Whatever this conversation is about, he wants to know if it‘s a conflict or some sort of gossip.

Jason checks if you are still in the kitchen and sees you preparing your tea and some sweets. He technically has enough time to snatch your phone while it‘s still open and gets to have a look over the texts. Who knows, maybe he will find out some interesting things on there. So, with these weak excuses, he grabs your phone and starts reading through them.

UNTIL YOUR TONGUE FADES COLOUR??? I mean every word I say. Wow. Just…

His brows furrow. What does this even mean? Are tongues even capable of fading colour? With a quick glance to the kitchen, he scrolls up, reading through the older messages.

From the couch, to the shower, to the bed, from the wall to the floor from missionary to cowgirl, straddled on top JUST LET ME HITTT

His jaw drops. Jason quickly composes himself and sits up, clearing his throat. He is sure he will need extra therapy after this. Ignoring the unfamiliar, warm feeling in his lower abdomen, he continues to read through them. Unsurprisingly, he finds a picture of himself in the chat. His profile picture, some random pictures he didn‘t even you had in the first place.

Until my throat memorises every vein.

That‘s the last message he sees from you before you appear in his sight again. Tea in hand, some cookies in the other. But most importantly, your flushed cheeks and regretful expression. His hand drops your phone and his cheeks also flush.

You can‘t look into his eyes anymore. This is the next worst thing that‘s ever happened to you so far. There is no way you can talk yourself out of this situation at all. He knows basically everything now. From the fact that you crush on him to the fact that you literally want to devour him whole.

Silently, he sets your phone back to its original spot and gets off the couch to stand up. Again, he clears his throat and speaks up first.

»I‘m gonna pretend I didn‘t see all this...«

And before you could apologise or say something to your defense, he is gone, retreating himself into his own room. Maybe even for the better, you can‘t imagine how awkward it would‘ve been if you were to sit next to him for the next few hours.

here is the so called evidence ( from my friends perspective)

and this was the final message that made me do this:

hope you enjoyed it somehow(★‿★)

←MASTERLIST

[greengoblinswifey]

Only Yours— Fratboy!Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— based on this request.

warnings— jealous!reader, possessive!reader, sub!nicholas, ass slapping and grabbing, praise kink, marking, choking, hair pulling, overstimulation, oral, begging, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff

You had agreed to go to the party, but only because your boyfriend asked you to. Frat parties weren’t usually your scene, but the way Nicholas’ eyes had lit up when he asked you had made it impossible to say no. And besides, having his hand on you while you danced together, his fingers resting on your hip and sometimes wandering to squeeze your ass, made it all worth it.

At one point, you left him to go to the bathroom and grab a drink. You got caught up chatting with a friend, which took a bit longer than you expected. When you turned back toward where you left Nicholas, your heart sank a little. A group of three girls had surrounded him, clearly flirting and trying to get his attention. One was pulling on his hand, another had her hand on his shoulder, and the third was leaning in way too close, laughing a little too loudly.

You watched as he tried to politely shrug them off, his expression nervous. He looked around, clearly uncomfortable but not wanting to be rude. You could see him saying something that must have hinted at you because all three girls suddenly glanced over in your direction. They seemed disappointed but finally backed off, one even winking at him before walking away.

When you made your way over to him, he turned and saw you, his eyes widening. “I—oh my god, I am so sorry, I didn’t know what to do! I tried to tell them, really, but they just kept going and I- I didn’t want to be rude—”

“Nicholas,” you interrupted softly, reaching up to touch his arm. “I know. I know you’re innocent and I know it wasn’t your fault.” You could feel your heart pounding a little, not just from the jealousy that had been building but from how sweet he looked, his face all worried. His cheeks flushed as he took in your words.

The party eventually died down, and you both left to head back to your dorm room, Nicholas still looking at you guiltily every few minutes as you walked. “I swear, I tried to tell them right away. I didn’t even know what to do when they got so close like that.”

“Nicholas,” you cut him off with a sigh, squeezing his hand. “It’s fine. You’re sweet for worrying, but really, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He could still sense something simmering under the surface.

He gave you a relieved smile but still looked a bit nervous. “I just, I don’t want you to think I was interested in them. I only have eyes for you.”

As you both got settled in your room, Nicholas seemed to sense there was still something lingering between you two. He watched you carefully, brow furrowed a little as if he was trying to read your mind. “Hey, uh, are you jealous?” he asked quietly, giving you a knowing look. He knew you far too well for you to brush it off.

You sighed, unable to hold back the truth. “Maybe just a little.”

He blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that. “You? Jealous?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, trying not to laugh at the way he seemed genuinely stunned. “But honestly, it’s fine, because I’m the one who gets to be with you tonight. Not them.”

His cheeks flushed, and he looked down shyly, a small smile playing on his lips. “I mean, that’s true.”

You leaned in close, your voice low and confident. “And now I’m going to show you who you really belong to, because it’s me, not any of those bitches, or anyone else.”

His breath hitched, and you could feel him tense a little, his eyes searching yours. Before he could say anything, you climbed into his lap, letting your hands trail up his shoulders. You captured his mouth in a slow, deep kiss, then moved down to his neck, leaving soft kisses and feeling his pulse quicken under your lips. You found the spot where he was most sensitive, and as you started to leave little marks along his skin, you could feel him shiver, his hands coming up to hold onto you, his breaths coming quicker.

He let out a quiet moan as you left a trail of kisses and a few dark red marks down his neck. “When they see you tomorrow,” you whispered with a smirk, “they’re going to know exactly who you belong to.”

As you held Nicholas close, you leaned in with a teasing smile. “Now, be a good boy and take our clothes off,” you whispered, watching his eyes go wide with anticipation. He started with you, his hands steady as he carefully helped you out of each piece, his gaze lingering with admiration. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, eyes soft as they traveled over you.

He reached for the hem of his own shirt, but you gently stopped him, meeting his gaze. “Let me,” you said firmly. “No one else is ever going to get to do this, just me. You belong to me.”

His breath caught, and he nodded, allowing you to take control, each piece of clothing removed with a deliberate slowness that made the anticipation build between you. When he was fully naked, you let him sink back, feeling his trust and warmth radiate as you knelt down in front of him.

You took ahold of his hard cock, stroking while you took him deep. His breaths grew shaky, and his hands instinctively gripped the sheets as you took your time, letting every reaction, every soft whimper he made, guide you.

“Tell me,” you murmured between movements, voice low. “Who’s making you feel good?”

“You are,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper, his whole body shuddering under your touch.

“Fuck, and who’s the only one who can make you feel this good?” you asked, sliding your mouth slowly off him.

“Ah- only- only you Y/N,” he gasped. You felt his balls tighten and his fists gripped the sheets harder signaling he was close to his end.

“Now be a good boy and cum for me.”

As he finally released, his eyes met yours with intensity. You leaned up, pressing a rough, lingering kiss to his lips, and felt him relax under your touch, his hands finding your tits as you both held each other close.

“Can I eat your pussy?” he asked, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Why do you think you deserve to taste me?” you teased.

“Um— because I, uh, because I belong to you, you own me and I have to make you feel good, I want you to,” he said, stuttering.

“Wow, you’re learning. Well then get on your knees and do it.”

You switched positions, Nicholas going on his knees and you took his position in bed. You were soaked for him as he pried your legs open, marveling at the sight before him. He attached his mouth to your clit, sucking like he had a point to prove. He did. He was showing you he belonged to you. No other woman would feel what he was giving you.

“That’s my good boy, don’t stop baby,” you moaned, your hips bucking and your hand gripping his hair roughly.

He winced at the pain as you dragged him by his hair on where you wanted his tongue but the pain was his pleasure. He sucked your clit with such ferocity, you couldn’t hold back even if you wanted to.

“You make me feel so good, I’m gonna cum on your tongue baby,” you whimpered.

You gripped his hair roughly, pressing his face against your pussy as it quivered and your release ripped through you. Panting, he sucked every drop of you, gripping under your thighs as your toes curled and his name was on your lips like a prayer.

You pulled him up by his neck as soon as your high subsided, your eyes locking with his. He gasped as you shoved him hard onto the bed, the intensity in your gaze made his pulse race. Though he was used to your dominant side, something in your movements tonight left him wide-eyed and blushing.

You climbed on top of him with a look that silenced any thoughts he might have had. “Let this be a constant reminder,” you murmured, running a finger down the dark red marks on his neck then resting your hand around it possessively, “of who the fuck belong to.” His face flushed, and he nodded, breathless, clearly under your spell.

As you sank onto him, his hands gripped your waist instinctively, holding on like he’d fall apart otherwise. His gaze flickered between your eyes, filled with admiration and a hint of that familiar shyness.

You ignored the burning stretch you felt, bouncing roughly on his cock as his moans grew louder and louder.

“B-baby, please s-slow down, god, I’m gonna—”

“Shut up and take it,” you murmured, your hand squeezing his throat harder and making his head spin.

Your ass slammed onto his cock, the feeling making him gasp and plead, he wasn’t going to last long.

“Please baby, I’m gonna cum,” he sobbed.

“You don’t cum unless I tell you to, take whatever I give you.” He nodded his head frantically, not wanting to disobey you. Your hips moved in a circular motion driving him crazy as he focused all his energy on holding back the cum threatening to explode from his cock.

You licked the side of his face making his eyes roll back and he knew if you didn’t tell him to cum soon, no matter how much he tried, he wouldn’t be able to hold it.

“Oh fuck, you always stretch me so well,” you moaned, your hips grinding on his cock.

He couldn’t even form a sentence if he wanted to, all he could do was moan and sniffle, tears pricking the corner of his eyes as the pleasure become too much.

“Hold me Nick,” you moaned.

He did as he was told and your body shook as you came all over his cock. The feeling of your juices drenching him made him sob and plead.

“Please Y/N, please, please, please baby, just let me cum, just this once,” he begged.

You leaned down, your voice soft but firm. “Since you’re begging so nicely, cum inside me,” you whispered, placing a soft bite along his jawline. He drew in a shaky breath, as if he’d been waiting to hear that.

“T-thank you, thank you so much, you’re so incredible.

He moaned deeply, the sound going straight to your throbbing pussy and he squeezed your ass, bucking his hips up as he practically exploded inside you. He whimpered and sobbed, his cum seeming to be never ending. You didn’t think he had ever cum that much in one sitting.

You held him close to you as he shivered underneath your touch, his cock still twitching and throbbing inside you.

“Wow, you came so much, my sweet boy, you did so good for me.”

You kissed all over his sweaty face, wiping the small tears that rolled down his cheeks as he stared at you in complete awe.

Easing off his cock, you both gasped and he watched as his cum oozed out of your pussy. You lay beside him, bringing his head onto your chest and he held you close, his breathing slowly going back to normal.

“I definitely know who owns me now,” he chuckled breathlessly, “and m’sorry again, I’ll do more next time.”

You only responded with a smile, kissing his forehead then his lips, a silent acceptance.

[rose-petles]

Pls can you make a pt 2 to the 니키 - ruined make-out sessions -> N.NK fic where niki is teased by the members

니키 - ruined make-out sessions -> N.NK [ P.2 ]

Warning → none!

Paring → Clingybf!Niki x SoftieGfFem!Reader

Synopsis → Its been two months since he has kissed your lips.

He whined as you dragged him into the bathroom to get ready, already craving your kisses again. “But I miss you I wanna spend time with my love.. can I not..?”

You sighed, “We are already going out with your bandmates, lets go love..”

Niki sighed and followed you as you dragged him out of the room to the lounge area.

After jake had left the room a smirk spread across his face as he watched you kiss, his mind already running through all the teasing he was going to give Niki later.

When Niki arrived to meet his friends at the restaurant a little while later, he was instantly met with raised eyebrows and knowing smirks. Sunghoon leaned back in his chair, looking at Niki with mock seriousness.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to show up,” Sunghoon said, tapping his fingers. “Must’ve been a really good excuse for being late.”

Heeseung chuckled. “Did you have something better to do than hang out with us, Niki?”

Niki shifted, immediately suspicious. “What’s with the attitude?” he asked, trying to sound casual. But the red tint that rose to his cheeks betrayed him.

Jake finally let out a loud laugh, clapping Niki on the shoulder. “broo. Saw you and Y/n having a very romantic moment.”

Niki’s face turned even redder, and he groaned, dropping his head. “Jake, why didn’t you just walk away quietly?” he muttered, eyes closed in embarrassment.

Sunoo leaned over the table, clasping his hands dramatically. “A kiss, really? On the bed? How cliché,” he teased, earning a laugh from everyone.

Jungwon laughed, pointing a finger at Niki. “Our little Niki is growing up so fast! Who knew he’d be the romantic type?”

Even Jay joined in, winking. “Next thing you know, he’ll be planning a candlelit dinner.”

Niki buried his face in his hands, his muffled voice reaching them. “You guys are the worst. Seriously.”

Heeseung gave Niki a light shove, grinning. “Don’t worry, we’re just happy for you, man.”

Despite the teasing, they all flashed him supportive smiles, and Niki couldn’t help but laugh with them, knowing he’d never hear the end of this.

But when he looked back at his friends, their laughter mingling in the air, he knew it didn’t matter.

At the end of the day, he had you—and they’d always be there to remind him of that in the most embarrassing ways possible.

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[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴀ ʟ ʟ ɪ ʜ ᴀ ᴠ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Show Aegon II Targaryen x Fem Reader

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

˚꒰notes꒱‧ English is not my first language. Gifs belong to @joekeerys. Hope you enjoy!

Aegon never wanted the throne, never wanted the responsibilities that came with it, but what he does want is you. From the moment you entered his life, everything changed. You’re the one thing that makes sense to him, the one thing that feels right. Aegon is a mess of conflicting desires, plagued by his trauma, but when it comes to you, his love is the only thing he’s sure of.

Aegon has never had anyone in his life who genuinely cared about him. His family is fractured, and he’s spent his whole life drowning in self-loathing. But when you show him the slightest bit of affection, it’s like a drug. He needs it, needs you. You’re his lifeline, the one person who can make him feel like he’s worth something.

He’s incredibly clingy. Every time he sees you, he’s either hanging off of you, resting his head on your shoulder, or playing with your hair. It’s as if he can’t bear to be apart from you for even a moment. His hands are always on you, in a way that’s both affectionate and a little too possessive.

“I can’t stand it when you’re away,” he’d murmur, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. “Stay with me. Always stay with me.”

Aegon’s insecurities run deep, and that means he’s always on edge when it comes to other people. He’s constantly worried that someone will take you away from him, that you’ll realize you deserve better and leave him behind. His jealousy is all-consuming, and he has no problem making sure anyone who even looks at you the wrong way knows you belong to him.

If someone tries to get close to you, Aegon’s mood shifts instantly. His playful, drunken demeanor turns cold, his eyes narrowing as he watches every move they make around you. He doesn’t trust anyone—not your friends, not your family, and especially not his own family. In his mind, they’re all threats, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you to himself.

“No one will ever love you like I do,” he’d say, his voice low and serious. “You know that, don’t you?”

He needs to know everything about you—where you are, who you’re with, what you’re thinking. He’ll start off subtly, asking about your day, wanting to know every little detail. But soon, it becomes more than that. He wants to control every aspect of your life, making sure that you’re always with him, always safe, always his.

He’s the type to show up unannounced, drunk and demanding your attention, whether you want to give it or not. If you try to push him away, he’ll sulk, using his own pain and insecurities to guilt you into staying by his side. It’s manipulative, but in his twisted mind, he thinks he’s doing it out of love.

“You’re mine,” he’d whisper, wrapping his arms around you from behind, his breath hot against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

Aegon knows he’s not the perfect prince (and later king). He’s flawed, broken, and he hates himself for it. But when it comes to you, he’ll use that brokenness to his advantage. Whenever you try to pull away, he’ll remind you of how much he needs you, how lost he’d be without you. He’s not afraid to play the victim, to make you feel like leaving him would be the cruelest thing in the world.

He’ll come to you late at night, drunk and miserable, talking about how everyone hates him, how he’s not good enough for you. His words are filled with self-pity, and he’ll cling to you, practically begging you to reassure him that you’ll stay.

“You’re the only one who cares about me,” he’d say, his voice cracking with desperation. “Don’t leave me. I can’t… I can’t do this without you.”

For all his selfishness, Aegon genuinely believes he’s protecting you. The world is dangerous, full of people who would hurt you or take you from him. In his mind, he’s the only one who can keep you safe. He’ll go to any lengths to ensure that no one can harm you—not even your family or friends if he thinks they’re a threat.

He’ll isolate you if he has to, keeping you away from anyone who might try to come between you. He’ll even use his power as king to keep you locked away, safe in the Red Keep where no one can touch you. To him, it’s an act of love—protecting you from the dangers of the world.

“I’m doing this for you,” he’d say, his eyes wild with a mix of desperation and affection. “No one will hurt you if you’re with me. I’ll burn anyone who tries.”

Aegon’s love for you is twisted, born out of his own pain and insecurities, but it’s real. In his mind, you’re the only thing keeping him together. He’s broken, damaged by years of neglect and abuse, and you’re the only one who makes him feel whole. He’ll do anything to keep you by his side, even if it means crossing lines no one else would dare to cross.

He’s the kind of lover who would rather see you dead than let you leave him. If he can’t have you, then no one can. His love is suffocating, dangerous, and all-consuming. But in the end, he truly believes that he’s doing it all because he loves you.

“You don’t understand,” he’d say, tears in his eyes as he holds you close. “You’re all I have. I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”

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

[seitmai]

She hummed, looking over your recent arrangement with a proud gaze. “I can understand that. It’s been a bit since you’ve been in a relationship,” she said, giving your arm a small squeeze. “But don’t be too apprehensive, dear. It’s okay to let someone in.” You bit your tongue when you wanted to blurt out that Bucky didn’t just let himself in. He tore through your life and made a home for himself in the ashes. But Mrs. Crandle meant well and didn’t know what was going on.

Mrs. Cradle probably means well but let's calm down a bit 🥴

“I can work through it. There are still a few orders to finish,” you protested, which was a reasonable excuse. “I’m not making you work through lunch.” She looked offended by the very idea. And of course, she wouldn’t give you an out. Like most of your small circle of friends and loved ones, they wanted you to find a partner. “And don’t worry about the orders, dear. You two lovebirds go and take as long as you want.”

She truly is too nice 😬

Much like walking into the club, you felt out of place as you walked through the cafe. Not because it wasn’t your scene, but because of the special sort of treatment. You didn’t want it. Though the ambience of the fairy lights and privacy would’ve been sweet and romantic otherwise.

That's so eerie 🫣

Bucky’s hand lingered until she was out of sight. “I don’t appreciate that she didn’t look your way,” he said, shrugging his jacket off before he took a seat. You could see the tension in his shoulders, his gloved left hand flexing slightly. “It’s clear that we’re here together on a lunch date.” “No, it’s not. It’s disrespectful. I’m here with you. I’m not interested in her or anyone else.” His eyes were as cold as ice when he pushed the menu away, making you shiver. “I’m not like my dad.” “I know I’m the only one you see,” you said, reaching over to touch his hand. He took it the second it was within reach. You didn’t think he’d do anything to hurt or damage the hostess in any way over something harmless in your eyes, but maybe offering a bit of assurance would distract him. “I don’t know your dad, but I can sense that you aren’t him.”

Ohhh this is something that truly gets his gears turning

He observed you, almost in morbid curiosity as you waited for him to respond. You knew what the answer was going to be, but you wanted to believe your paranoia was getting to you. “First, your apartment isn’t your home. The penthouse is going to be our home together and maybe that’ll finally sink in once you’re living there,” he answered, your eyes wide. “And second, of course I have bugs around your place. Visual, audio, you name it. I’m not exactly trying to hide that I’m watching you as much as possible.”

The way he says it so nonchalantly is truly mind boggling 🥴

“You’re not exactly trying to hide it? You hid it by not telling me!” You accused him, the gaslighting bastard. “How could you do that?” He shrugged, which only upset you more. “Mentioning the collar was a pretty big hint. Do you really think I’d bring it up if I didn’t want you to know I was watching or listening in?” “You…” You let out a breath and swallowed back tears. He really did want you to know. “You want me to feel scared, don't you, like when you broke in. Because when you scare me or make me feel uneasy, you can control me more and get me to do what you want. You’re sick.”

What she said ☝🏻

You swallowed thickly. He was never going to budge. “You sit there and act like you’re a decent guy because you haven’t forced yourself on me and you won’t raise a hand to me, but you’re still a monster,” you said, your gaze vulnerable and open. He had to see how upset you were, how he caused you to feel. His expression didn’t change, except for his eyes. They looked as sad as you felt. “Maybe I am,” he whispered.

This is heavy...

“I…” You went silent when he slid a hand up your torso and rested it on your chest. Could you play along to calm him down? “I guess we can go shopping. Nothing too fancy, right?” “Whatever makes you happy. I just want my girl to be happy.” He groaned when you willingly ran your fingers through his hair. “And you’ll love me like I love you. I know you will.”

This just makes my skin crawl 🥴

Hold You Tight: Part 11

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 10 | Series Masterlist | Part 12

Chapter Summary: Bucky reveals a small piece of his past and also confirms one of your suspicions.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.6k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, gaslighting, manipulation, mention of stalking, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and hope you enjoy! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You busied yourself with orders after Clark left, but it didn’t stop you from looking toward the door every few minutes. You weren’t sure if you were expecting him to return or if you were anticipating Bucky arriving. Why were you allowing him to consume your thoughts again? You needed to concentrate on your job, the thing you loved and helped pay your bills.

Mrs. Crandle gave you a smile when you checked the time, too. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were excited to see this young man who thinks he’s your boyfriend,” she commented.

“I don’t know if excited is the word I’d use,” you said, trying to smile through your nerves. “Apprehensive, maybe?”

She hummed, looking over your recent arrangement with a proud gaze. “I can understand that. It’s been a bit since you’ve been in a relationship,” she said, giving your arm a small squeeze. “But don’t be too apprehensive, dear. It’s okay to let someone in.”

You bit your tongue when you wanted to blurt out that Bucky didn’t just let himself in. He tore through your life and made a home for himself in the ashes. But Mrs. Crandle meant well and didn’t know what was going on. “Well, he offered to be my date to Addison’s wedding and she was very happy to hear that.”

“Oh, I’ll bet she’s thrilled for you,” she said. Addison stopped by the shop a few times and your boss adored her and the friendship you two had. “And if I’m not mistaken, that’s your date walking in,” she smiled, nodding toward the door.

Your stomach dropped when Bucky entered the shop with a tender smile on his face. “Hi, doll,” he said, heading right to you and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I hope I’m not too early to take you to lunch, but I don’t mind waiting if you’re busy.”

“Oh, it’s not too early at all,” Mrs. Crandle said before you could protest. “It’s nice to see such a fine young man take one of my best workers to lunch.”

Bucky put his right hand to his chest. “A fine young man? You flatter me, Mrs. Crandle. It is Mrs. Crandle, right?” He held the same hand out after she nodded. Of course, he knew her name. You almost smacked his arm away, not wanting the man who disrupted your life to touch your boss. “Everyone calls me Bucky. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, too,” she said, giving you a wink. One smile from the man and she was under his spell. “I hear the two of you may be attending Addison’s wedding together.”

You gave her a pointed look when Bucky smiled your way, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. She either ignored your stare or didn’t notice. “That’s the plan. I know the day will be all about Addison and Brady, as it should be, but my eyes will be on my girl,” Bucky smiled, giving the shop an appreciative look as your stomach flipped. “And it’s easy to see why she loves working here. You have a beautiful place.”

“Thank you. It really is a group effort to keep this place alive,” she said, turning her attention to you. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get your bag and go enjoy your lunch.”

“I can work through it. There are still a few orders to finish,” you protested, which was a reasonable excuse.

“I’m not making you work through lunch.” She looked offended by the very idea. And of course, she wouldn’t give you an out. Like most of your small circle of friends and loved ones, they wanted you to find a partner. “And don’t worry about the orders, dear. You two lovebirds go and take as long as you want.”

Lovebirds?

“I’ll try not to keep her too long,” Bucky said as you went to get your purse. “So, how long have you owned your shop?”

You blocked out the chatter between them, taking a breath to steady yourself. How many times had you imagined a boyfriend surprising you at work just because they wanted to take you to lunch? Or even just because they wanted to see you? You got your wish, didn’t you?

“I’ll be back soon,” you smiled as Bucky wrapped an arm around your lower back, crowding your space like always. Mrs. Crandle looked over the moon and you made sure the smile stayed on your face until Bucky led you out of the shop. “Sucking up to my boss? Really?”

Bucky chuckled. “I wasn’t sucking up. Just making conversation,” he said. The small conversation won her over. “And didn't you try to get Ray on your side this morning?”

He had a point, but you ignored it. “Where are we eating?” You asked, though you didn’t have much of an appetite.

“I got us a table at a cafe close by,” he said, tightening his arm around you. “I figured you wouldn’t want to go far in case you had to get back to work.”

“That’s thoughtful,” you said, though it was actually nice that he didn’t want you to venture far.

“I’m a thoughtful guy,” he teased. Making sure it was safe to go, he helped you cross the street. Ray stayed in the car, but you sensed him watching and wondered if he’d join you. “And I got us a private table on the back patio. No one should bother us.”

“They do private tables at this cafe?” You asked as he held the door open with a smirk. He probably threw a bit of money their way to make it happen and you almost wished there would be others around so you’d feel a bit more comfortable.

“Welcome, Mr. Barnes,” a woman smiled, not bothering to look your way as she grabbed a couple of menus. “We have your table set up if you’ll follow me,” she said, gesturing for you to head to the back.

Much like walking into the club, you felt out of place as you walked through the cafe. Not because it wasn’t your scene, but because of the special sort of treatment. You didn’t want it. Though the ambience of the fairy lights and privacy would’ve been sweet and romantic otherwise.

“The server should be here in a moment, but please let me know if you need anything,” the hostess smiled, her gaze lingering on Bucky as he pulled out your chair. “Anything at all, Mr. Barnes.”

You felt a bit small as you sat down and eyed the hostess. It was her job to be friendly, but she hadn’t exactly acknowledged you and made it obvious that she specifically wanted Bucky’s attention. You wouldn’t say you were jealous and part of you understood why she’d want him to look her way. Still, wouldn’t the general assumption be that you two were a couple?

We are not a couple.

You looked up at Bucky when he rested a hand on your shoulder, but there was nothing flirtatious or warm about the smile on his face. “If my girl or I need anything, we’ll say so,” he said in a cool and courteous tone.

“Of course.” The hostess faltered slightly as she set the menus down, but recovered quickly. “Enjoy,” she added, scurrying off.

Bucky’s hand lingered until she was out of sight. “I don’t appreciate that she didn’t look your way,” he said, shrugging his jacket off before he took a seat. You could see the tension in his shoulders, his gloved left hand flexing slightly. “It’s clear that we’re here together on a lunch date.”

Your eyes flickered to him as he looked over the menu, his jaw clenched. The hostess giving him attention bothered him much more than it bothered you. “It’s okay, Bucky,” you said.

“No, it’s not. It’s disrespectful. I’m here with you. I’m not interested in her or anyone else.” His eyes were as cold as ice when he pushed the menu away, making you shiver. “I’m not like my dad.”

“I know I’m the only one you see,” you said, reaching over to touch his hand. He took it the second it was within reach. You didn’t think he’d do anything to hurt or damage the hostess in any way over something harmless in your eyes, but maybe offering a bit of assurance would distract him. “I don’t know your dad, but I can sense that you aren’t him.”

At least, he wasn’t entirely like him. His ruthlessness came from something or someone. His dad may fit the bill.

“He cheated on my mom when she was nothing but good to him. She was good to everyone and he threw it back in her face,” he sneered. You could practically taste the bitterness from his words and it broke your heart. It was no wonder he wanted you to believe so badly that he’d be faithful to you. “And I’m glad that piece of shit will never lay eyes on you or anyone else.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, aching for the pain his mom likely experienced and him by extension. Regardless of the man he was, he held his mom in high regard and she didn’t deserve an unfaithful partner. “I know that doesn’t change anything, but I am.”

Bucky’s gaze softened considerably. “I know you are and I appreciate that more than you know.” He rubbed a thumb over your skin, his shoulders starting to relax. “The cheating wasn’t even the worst of it,” he muttered before the server walked in with a pitcher of water.

What else did his dad do?

“Hi. I’ll be taking care of you today,” the server smiled, sweeping a look over both of you as he poured each of you a glass. Bucky barely smiled back. He didn’t want people ignoring you, but he didn’t want gazes lingering for too long either. “Have you had a chance to look over the menu or would you like something else to drink?”

“I’m fine with water and I think we’re ready,” you said, pointing out one of the entrees. You didn’t want to draw out lunch longer than it had to be. “Thank you.”

“I’ll have the same. And take your time,” Bucky said, handing the menus back. His smile didn’t brighten again until the server left. “Talking about my dad is dampening the mood. How’s work going today?”

The subject change was jarring, but you imagined he didn’t want to dwell on the unpleasant topic. It also wasn’t a good time to ask about his mom and the flowers. “Work is fine.”

“Just fine?”

You debated if you should say anything about Clark. You didn’t want him on Bucky’s radar, but what if Bucky somehow found out and you didn’t say anything? Telling him was the better option. “Well, there’s a regular customer who stopped in. He’s going through a break-up and actually tried to give me a couple of roses since I was kind to him, but I didn’t take them,” you explained, trying not to make a big deal of it.

The glint in Bucky’s eyes made you nervous, but you knew any malice wasn't aimed your way. “He tried to give you roses and you didn’t take them?” He asked evenly.

“No, I didn’t. I told him to give them to someone else as I’m very much not interested in getting flowers. Except maybe from you,” you assured him, his lips twitching up. That was a good sign. “What about you? How’s work?” You added, hoping to shift the topic back to him.

A moment of silence passed before he nodded. “If he persists or bothers you, let me know first thing and I’ll take care of it,” he said. You had a feeling the topic of Clark was far from done and you didn’t want to know how he’d take care of it. “I do have to go to the club late tonight, but I was thinking we could go shopping after your shift.”

“Shopping?” You raised an eyebrow. “Shopping for what?”

“I did offer to get you a new outfit for your girls day,” he said, rubbing circles on your hand. “And a collar.”

The nagging feeling in the back of your mind went off. That was the second time he brought that up. One would think he was doing it on purpose. “You know, I mentioned you getting me a collar, but that was something I said when I was alone this morning. Along with a couple of other things you've mentioned, it’s too much of a coincidence to me that you’re suggesting it,” you said carefully, sitting up straighter. “Do you have cameras or something in my home? Be honest, please.”

He observed you, almost in morbid curiosity as you waited for him to respond. You knew what the answer was going to be, but you wanted to believe your paranoia was getting to you. “First, your apartment isn’t your home. The penthouse is going to be our home together and maybe that’ll finally sink in once you’re living there,” he answered, your eyes wide. “And second, of course I have bugs around your place. Visual, audio, you name it. I’m not exactly trying to hide that I’m watching you as much as possible.”

You felt sick at the admission, thankful that you hadn’t eaten anything. How much did he see and hear? Did he listen to your talk with Addison? Watch you shower? Sleep? He continued to violate your privacy and had no shame at all in doing so. Enough was enough.

“You’re not exactly trying to hide it? You hid it by not telling me!” You accused him, the gaslighting bastard. “How could you do that?”

He shrugged, which only upset you more. “Mentioning the collar was a pretty big hint. Do you really think I’d bring it up if I didn’t want you to know I was watching or listening in?”

“You…” You let out a breath and swallowed back tears. He really did want you to know. “You want me to feel scared, don't you, like when you broke in. Because when you scare me or make me feel uneasy, you can control me more and get me to do what you want. You’re sick.”

He reached out and gripped your hand again before you could push yourself away from the table. “I thought we established that I’m not trying to control you. How many times do I have to say it?”

“And yet everything you do says otherwise,” you said. It was all a tactic to him. A game. “When will your actions back up your words?”

“I told you this morning my place is safer than yours. The security measures in your building are a joke. Do you realize how easy it was for me to get in and to break into your place? I hardly broke a sweat and that means anyone could get in and get to you. So, yes, there are devices in place so I can make sure you’re safe when I’m not there.” He shook his head at your glare. His reasoning didn’t excuse his actions. “I understand if you’re mad at me, but I did say I won’t give you a choice when it comes to your safety and I won’t apologize for that either.”

You stared at each other, his gaze as firm as his stance. As much as you wanted to throw something, the dishes weren’t yours and you didn’t want to create a mess for the staff to clean up. “You’re really telling yourself you’re watching me for my protection? Who the hell is going to protect me from you, Bucky?” You took a breath when his eyes widened, as if your words hurt him. “No one, with the exception of you, is going to break into my place for any reason. I have nothing of value there, except for the necklace you gave me.”

“You are valuable,” he said, squeezing your hand and resolute in that belief. “How can you not see that?”

“Because I’m just a regular person and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Your voice shook, but you couldn't stop. “With the exception of you, no one will look twice at me, let alone break into my place.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t because life is unpredictable and watching me doesn’t guarantee that nothing will happen to me,” you said, narrowing your eyes in thought. “Is this really about protecting me or are you projecting what your dad did to your mom on me? Do you think I won’t be faithful to you in this ‘relationship’ you think we have, so you have to watch me at all times to prove I’m yours?”

Bucky made a sound like you hit him and asking was a bit of a low blow, but it was a possibility. “Kotyonok, you’re one of the most loyal and faithful people I know. You’d never do anything to make me question that.”

“You trust me?” You asked softly. He nodded without hesitation. “Then help me trust you. Get the devices out of my place for starters since you had no right to put them there to begin with. Please, get rid of them.”

You’d never feel completely safe or comfortable there again, you hadn't since he broke in, but he had to give you that.

“I'll get rid of them,” he said after a moment.

That felt too easy, but you felt relief all the same. “Thank you. That's-”

“After you move into the penthouse because I'm not going to give a shit about the people who move into your apartment after you,” he clarified.

You swallowed thickly. He was never going to budge. “You sit there and act like you’re a decent guy because you haven’t forced yourself on me and you won’t raise a hand to me, but you’re still a monster,” you said, your gaze vulnerable and open. He had to see how upset you were, how he caused you to feel.

His expression didn’t change, except for his eyes. They looked as sad as you felt. “Maybe I am,” he whispered.

The server chose the perfect time to show up with your meals. “Here we are!” he announced, setting the food down and taking no notice of the heavy tension between you and Bucky. “Enjoy.”

Neither of you spoke as you ate, but he watched you expectantly. He wasn’t going to change his mind about the bugs in your apartment or anything else and he didn’t deserve your fire. So you had nothing to say. Nothing at all. You were exactly what he called you: a doll.

“Don’t you dare,” he finally spoke when you took money out of your wallet and set it on the table. “This is a date and I’m paying.”

“This isn’t a date, Bucky, no matter how much you want it to be,” you said quietly, his eyes flashing. “And I need to go back to work.”

You gasped when he bent the fork he held in his left hand, your heart pounding in fear as you looked around. The server hadn’t been back to check on you and the two of you were all alone. What was he going to do? “What? You think I’m going to hurt you after I promised I wouldn’t?” He asked, setting the destroyed utensil down. “Because I’m a monster, right?”

“I didn’t…” You couldn’t say you didn’t mean it because you did, but deep down it wasn’t your intention to make him angry. You should’ve known better, but your emotions were getting the better of you when you had to play it smart.

“A monster who hurts people?” He asked in a deep voice you didn’t recognize. “Kills people?”

You gripped the sides of your chair, fear creeping in more. “Bucky, what are you talking about?” You whispered. Why was he saying that?

He blinked and shook his head. “Why won’t you just let me love you?” He asked, suddenly getting up to round the table. He pulled your chair out before you could get up and dropped to his knees, uncaring of ruining his pants. “All I want is you,” he whispered, resting his head in your lap.

Your body went taut when his hands moved up your thighs. Did he remember or care that you were at a cafe? “I-I know you want me.”

“I know the bugs in your place are upsetting and I know I’m being stubborn about it, so let me make it up to you a little bit, please?” He asked, lifting his head to gaze at you. “Let me take you shopping tonight. Let me spoil you.”

“I…” You went silent when he slid a hand up your torso and rested it on your chest. Could you play along to calm him down? “I guess we can go shopping. Nothing too fancy, right?”

“Whatever makes you happy. I just want my girl to be happy.” He groaned when you willingly ran your fingers through his hair. “And you’ll love me like I love you. I know you will.”

You waved off the server when he tried to check on you and gave Bucky a shaky smile. You’d go shopping with him, keep him happy, and pray he wouldn’t continue to suffocate you with his version of love. It was too late though. The very oxygen you breathed now was what he fed into your lungs. And the monster that lurked beneath the surface, the one who needed you, was eventually going to break through and get what he wanted.

Maybe he’d get a taste tonight.

So, I wanted a bit of action in this part, but the muse refused. I swear the conversations are happening for a reason and we may see some action during the shopping trip. What are we going to do knowing your place really is bugged? And is he going to look into Clark more? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: if you have stuck around and waited u are INCREDIBLE thank u so much for ur patience <3 esp cos i'm still testing it with my slowburn lmao + tell me what u think lovelies and as always, enjoy

word count: 4.1k

synopsis: Azriel's shadows find a new way to torment their master. The question of forgiveness follows you. Cassian gets you in the ring, testing out newly learnt skills.

CHAPTER TEN :: SHADOWS

Azriel is a spy by his very nature.

It makes sense; the gift of Shadowsinger is never bestowed so lightly so that it could ever leave any doubt of the user. Shadowsingers are spies, even well before their gifts revealed themselves. Always watching. Always listening.

It was, then, a tad against his disposition to keep his nose out business that wasn't his — as that was precisely what Azriel did best.

But his decision was resolute. Azriel had promised himself he would not be the first to break the distance between you two.

However, for a fae over five-hundred years old, it's quite unsettling to yet again feel the pangs of impatience. Years of practicing restraint and then, in a mere few months, his hard earned patent for patience begins to fray at the ends. You'll be his undoing, he's sure of it.

Like a young and fresh-faced warrior itching for battle, it's almost embarrassing how Azriel can't seem to stay away from you. His feet wander and all paths lead to you.

His shadows are not helping.

Azriel thinks they've managed to get more insistent, which he hadn't really believe was possible. They've proven him oh-so wrong. When he walks the halls of the House of Wind, the dark wisps dart out, as though trying to tug him along.

He had trusted them all of two times before, face flushed and with an ungraceful but thankfully unnoticed exit, he learned just where they were leading him.

They were following the invisible thread between you, taking him to see his mate.

When it became clear he wasn't going to be coerced along, his shadows had only got more devious.

It's a particular brand of torture, Azriel thinks, to be delivered little parcels of knowledge of the person he's not allowing himself to see.

And they're ruthless about it. Whispers about how you're healing and the growing steadiness of your feet, the way you stand a little taller each day, about the tentative trust extended to Cassian.

Gods, that one had made his hand jerk across the paper in surprise, spilling a patch of ink onto the report he was in the middle of.

You were talking to Cassian— no, you were nearly friends with Cassian. The magnanimous hope had ballooned within him before Azriel remembered to stomp it back down.

Mor had teased him for the black stains on his hands during dinner.

He studies them now, nearly washed away completely, before he lifts his head. In the cool air of dusk, Azriel surveils the training ring from the shadows of the door, eyes scanning across the balcony.

It's empty, as expected. The rising moon is his only company.

You've stuck to training in the mornings, of course.

He's relieved and disappointed all at once—then Azriel forces that disappointment out of his system with a frustrated huff.

He is not allowed to be disappointed. Your trust is something he still needs to claw his way back to, to earn, and that required waiting and accepting that.

Azriel would see you... when you wanted to see him.

Despite his resolve, the thread between you still gives a futile tug before he can stop it. Scowling at himself, he rubs at his chest meanly, banishing the feeling. He steps down onto the balcony and heads towards the equipment.

As his scarred hands reach out and pluck one of the training staffs off the rack, his shadows twirls and trill, an almost teasing motion. It takes one pointed whisper, one tug on his heartstrings —they used that one just earlier today— before his hands are glowing warm from the second-hand touch.

His fingers spring apart and the staff hits the tiles with a loud clatter. Even though it's just him out on the balcony, he still casts an awkward glance around him. Gods

If his brothers could see him now, Azriel thinks dryly.

He swats at the shadow that had unhelpfully fed him the information. It dances away from him, swooping down to circle the staff on the ground with its others, a mass of black surrounding it.

Azriel bends down and gingerly picks up the staff, his hazel eyes staring at it for a long moment. Where your hands have been.

After a moment, his fingers curl around it. His marred hands feel like they're glowing again, warm and tingling, even if he knows it's all in his mind. Even so, he swears the golden thread between you hums, just ever so slightly.

He'll allow himself this, just this once, Azriel decides. His grip tightens and he heads to the ring, preparing to train, his hands where yours were just mere hours before.

—

The day after you had met Cassian, as the dawn breaks over sky, you find him on the training balcony before you.

You're a little later than you'd normally be, the sun actually rising before you do. You're moving a little more sluggishly too, but for once it's for a better reason.

Sleep, normally light and fitful for you, had actually been a reprieve last night. You slept deeply, falling into dreamless slumber and resting properly.

When morning crept in, dragging your eyelids up had felt like a mountainous amount of effort. Part of you wonders if it's because of the male across the balcony from you.

Allies, you had agreed upon.

It's a little easier to rest when you've made one less enemy.

Watching him now, stretching his supple and bulging arms, you have to force down the instilled anxiety that festers up, a force of habit that's kept you safe all these years.

You're not in Exordor anymore. You're not keeping any secrets.

Cassian clocks your hesitant stance in the doorway as he turns, a wide grin breaking across his face. His wings perk up, a genuine sign of his excitement. He stops his stretching momentarily to wave.

"Morning!" He calls out, despite the fact the distance between you doesn't require him to do so.

"Ally." He adds pointedly, leaning over to give an over the top wink.

Somewhere buried deep inside you, a laugh almost wants to wriggle free, but it's smothered before you can think too hard. You give him a wry smile instead, the best you can manage, and take a tentative step down onto the balcony. Your wings give a tiny shiver in the passing breeze.

"Good morning," You manage to return, the words sticking in your throat on the way up. It's awkward but nothing in Cassian's friendly demeanor changes to indicate he's noticed. Your feet lead you over towards the weapons rack.

It's as you reach them do you realise your heart is rabbiting wildly, pounding in your chest, stewing you in discomfort. The hair on the back of your neck rises, prickling with unease. Your back is turned to a fierce warrior, one that could very well attack you.

And worse, you'll be training next to him, still not healed, still stumbling on your feet—revealing all the ways to strike you down.

You—you haven't done this, ever. You haven't trained with someone completely as yourself, with no facade to hide beneath. It suddenly becomes incredibly vulnerable.

Your hand trembles as you reach out for the training staff and you try your best to swallow down your nerves.

Cassian has kept his distance, resuming his stretches, but you don't miss how his eyes dance over to you every couple of seconds. For a moment, it alarms you but as you find a place and settle into your stance, you steal another glimpse.

It's more like... a dog wagging its tail, you think faintly.

You press down the urge to smile and begin your exercises.

There's all of ten minutes of silence before it gets broken.

"How do you like Velaris?"

You pause in your motions, huffing to catch your breath as your grip the training staff loosens. You cast a glance over at Cassian who's now picked up one of the broadswords, beginning to throw its weight around easily.

You blink and for a moment, your eyes dart out over the edge of the balcony, to the city teeming with life, so close and yet so far from you. A part of you aches fiercely to see it.

"I... haven't been into the city." You answer honestly. It comes out curt and doesn't exactly answer his question.

Eyeing his sword nervously, your force your aching muscles through another series of exercises. You're a sliver better than the day before but when your ear twinges loudly, you still stumble, a minuscule motion. Your heart lurches up your throat, frustration welling like a tidal wave within you.

"Okay, then how do you like the House of Wind?"

You pause again, looking over to Cassian tentatively, the pain in your ear momentarily forgotten. The rising frustration in you dissipates at the distraction. He waves a casual hand over to the house you've been residing in since you arrived in Velaris and smiles once more.

You swallow thickly. What is his angle here?

"I haven't..." You struggle to put your thoughts into words. It's... different. New. Unsettling. You don't want to say the wrong thing. For all you know, this may well be his home.

Eventually, you find your voice. "I like my room. It's—" Several words ping to the front of your mind. "—big."

You cringe. Some compliment that is. You're too honest even if it is true; you're far too used to the familiar cramped space of your own cabin. Even sharing walls with others is foreign to you and you're incredibly thankful you haven't run into anyone unexpectedly in any corridors yet.

It doesn't occur to you that it might entirely be by design, thanks to Rhys' strict instruction.

Cassian grins. "Yes, I recall Illyria being hardly known for it's roomy cabins."

He swings the sword around with a flick of his wrist, more like an idle motion than anything. Your eyes still flicker down keenly, watching for any threat, just in case.

"So, you haven't explored the house much then?" Cassian continues, feigning a stab forward with the sword, his eyes on his motions but his attention still focused primarily on you.

You follow his lead and swing the training staff again, in an arching whoosh. You shake your head in answer to his question.

"Do you want to?"

"Do you always talk this much during training?"

The words come out before you can think to check them, sucking in a sharp breath as you realise how snappy that sounded. Like you're looking for a fight.

You ready yourself to sink into a defensive stance, before you realise that Cassian has only laughed in response. A curl of his tied back hair comes loose as he shakes his head, the action almost... fond.

"Only when I'm trying to make friends." He grins warmly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Sorry, I'll stop prying."

You swallow and nod slightly, hoping it won't be read as rude. Though you'd had a hard time believing it, Cassian had been true to his word; no fighting unless it was in the ring. You hadn't dared to go near it yet.

Readjusting your stance, you prepared to go through the motions once more. It's still a bit more of the juvenile exercises than you're used to—forced back to the basics as you retrain your body—but also because you're solitary training. You're used to sparring with others.

Stealing a glimpse at Cassian, you ponder if—if you might, eventually that is, train alongside him as you had done with Azriel.

Moving the training staff deftly, you thrust it forward and twist your lithe body to dart forward again, a small patter of your feet on the stone.

It's maneuver used for rushing opponents, throwing them off their balance and driving them backwards. It works for you, mostly, but the way your wings cut through the air, the slightest whistle through the holey scars, makes you a little unsteady.

"You fight like you're bigger than you are."

Straightening up, you breathe heavily and peer around the edges of your wings back at Cassian—who apparently isn't done talking at all.

He nods to you, in reference the maneuver you've just performed. "That is a move usually far better suited for someone of a larger stature."

You clear your throat, wings curling in a bit closer around you. "Yes. Azriel, he- he was trying to rectify that. There's only one way to train Illyrians, as I'm sure you know."

Cassian nods again, lowering the sword to hang at his side. "That I do. However, I feel Azriel may have been taking the wrong approach given... the information he was not privy to at the time."

Your brows knit together, something wrong twisting tightly in your chest.

"Because I'm..."

Female.

"Not a male?"

The words come out sharp without meaning to.

Cassian's picks up on your defensiveness, his expression softening. He gives a little so-so motion with his free hand, his wings rustling behind him. "A bit, but not for reasons you may think."

When you don't speak, he continues, his explanation unfurling.

"Your centre of gravity is different to ours. That actually changes the best way for you to fight. More of your strength comes from these—"

He slaps his hands down onto his thighs with a grin.

"—than from your arms. For that reason, there are moves you will be better at than what you've been taught."

Cassian cocks his head, his dark eyes squinting for a moment, deep in thought. "Azriel likely switched your training to agility based, didn't he?"

You nod gingerly. You had no idea if what he was said was true. If there was a fighting style suited to females. That would require... female warriors which, for all you've ever known, is a highly unlikely thing to exist.

Though, being he is the General of the Night Court's armies, you'd likely assume Cassian knows what he's talking about.

He nods, that same easy smile. "He was right to do so. Most camps focus on brute strength and stamina. Makes for good warriors that can take hits and keep going. You can train that way if you still wish but you might find you excel when your efforts are put elsewhere."

It takes a long moment before you realise exactly what his words mean.

An offer. He's offering to train you, to teach you.

Pleasant surprise blooms inside you, warm, curling up behind your ribs like a purring cat. Cassian's eyes are light and friendly, his body language relaxed as though if you turn him down, it'd be of no consequence to him. Merely an offer.

You turn it over in your mind, back and forth. The gentle wind from the mountains caresses across your cheekbones, a warm touch.

Inside, deep in your chest, there's something telling you to trust. To take the step forward, to accept Cassian's outstretched proposal. That you might regret it if you didn't.

"How?" Your eyes skirt up and down on instinct, still on alert for a threat that isn't coming.

Cassian grins infectiously, not even attempting to hide his glee. He rolls his shoulders back and assesses you once more.

"Have you ever heard of the headscissor takedown?"

—

Flesh hits stone, a large shuddering bang that echoes out the courtyard. In the distance, a couple birds take flight, squawking loudly. Pain ricochets through your knees, a warbling and jarring pain that has you gritting your teeth.

"You're..." Cassian's breath comes out raggedly. "Incredible!"

He beams from where he's pinned beneath you and your pain dashes away in a moment, something gleaning and prideful taking its place.

There's a rivulet of blood under his nose, his hair knocked loose, and you know hitting the ground as hard as he did won't have been nice. He continues on as if he hasn't.

"That was perfect form. You're a Cauldron-born natural!"

You huff a breath that might be an actual laugh this time and quickly retract yourself, standing to your feet. You waver momentarily, hesitance poisoning your thoughts, before you decide. Holding out your hand to help, Cassian is quick to put his hand in your own and use it to lug himself up.

When he gets to his feet, his grip loosens but he doesn't let go altogether.

"Hey," He says, more serious this time. His fingers around your wrist, soft and warm, still make your pulse jump nervously. You force yourself to meet his gaze, still friendlier than ever. "Seriously. You're very skilled and you're a fast learner. You've got the makings to be lethal. The Night Court is lucky to have you on our side."

His hand slips back, grazing your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel the way your heart skips a beat.

No one has ever been... lucky to have you. It's so foreign that hearing someone say it aloud makes you forget to breath for one long second.

"I—" The word pushes out before you think about it. "That's... You-"

Praise is not a part of Illyrian training. You fumble with it, feeling entirely out of your depth, feeling oddly proud of yourself. It feels like your cheeks are warmer than usual.

Cassian chuckles, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. "You're welcome." He says pointedly, making you realise you're supposed to say thank you after someone compliments you.

You flounder for another second, making Cassian laugh again, louder this time. He reaches forward and lightly taps you on the shoulder, a faux punch.

"You'll get used to it." He says. Part of you really, really wants to. "Now, c'mon. Let's go again. Hit me."

—

You think that now Cassian's got what he wanted—the two of you training together, learning the plethora of new moves, stances, blocks he has in his repertoire—he wouldn't have anymore questions.

You're sorely, sorely, wrong.

Two mornings later, the pair of you prepare for some sparring with the swords in the ring. Cassian's purposefully picked one of the heavier ones for himself, broad and long, but he'd put aside a blade for you.

It's smaller, lighter. It reminds you of Heartstriker.

Which reminds you of Azriel.

The mere thought of him has your heart humming, miserable and elated all at once. You're still not sure if you'd like to see him just yet, the confusing twist of betrayal too fresh, but still, some part of you seeks him out, consciously or not.

You want to wander the halls until you find the door to leads to him.

It's because he was your first friend. You reason, as you step up towards the sparring ring. He was the first person you trusted. Was? Is—maybe.

Do you still trust him?

Cassian is already in the ring, waiting as patiently as he can. His rustling wings give him away, even as casual as he looks leaned up against one of the corner posts.

His wings are stretched out, towards the sun's rays that are just beginning to slip over the horizon, trying to steal some of their warmth.

A yawn slips past your lips. The night of restful sleep was an outlier it seemed, the tendrils of a calming, easy sleep stolen away just as quickly.

Fingers curling around the hilt of the short sword, you step gingerly into the ring, eyes casting across to your opponent. You roll your shoulders back, warming up the muscles a bit more, and give your own wings a little shake. A shiver wracks through you in response, the chill of the morning touching on sensitive scars.

"Is there a particular reason Azriel is avoiding you?"

Your head snaps up at the sound of Cassian's voice, cool and calm.

He hasn't shifted, though his wings are tucked back in now. His sword is still relaxed at his side, his worn hand tucked around the hilt of it freely.

The usual chattiness that Cassian has been able to coax out of you these last few days shrivels up. Azriel is avoiding you? You hadn't wanted to see him but this—something curls up inside you, sour and foul. You swallow hard.

"I hadn't realised." You murmur, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into your words.

Cassian blinks and seems to realise his mistake. He waves a hand dismissively, as if it can scratch away his last words. "I misspoke. I believe he is... keeping his distance."

He furrows his brow, face pinched, picking his words carefully. "For your sake." He adds.

You... don't know how you feel about that. On one hand, you're relieved. It's not by pure chance that you haven't seen him yet, it's purposeful—he's keeping out of your way, giving you peace.

On the other hand, something twined in your chest pangs sorrowfully, mourning the distance between you.

While Cassian's presence as an ally (or perhaps, you'll even admit, a friend) is comforting, you'll admit it does not fill the same shape in you as Azriel does. You miss him, quite terribly so.

"What makes you think he's avoiding me?" You ask.

Cassian gives an little shrug, his head tilting to the side just a bit. He smiles in a way that tells you he knows more than he lets on. Or maybe, he simply knows Azriel far better than you do.

"He usually trains in the morning." He explains nonchalantly. "He's taken to training at night since your arrival."

You frown at the new information. You don't want Azriel to be changing things for you, to bend and warp his routines in his home, just for you. You don't want him to avoid you either, even if you're beginning to think you might never be brave enough to face him.

He left you. He was your first friend and the betrayal of that is entirely too new— but you don't know where to draw the line.

You don't know for how long you're allowed to be upset — or how long you can let this go on before you're punishing yourself just as much as you are him.

Flexing your grip on the sword, you stare across at Cassian and when you open your mouth, the words tumble out with warning.

"He..." Your breath hitches.

Something awful hooks into your chest, remembering the way he had folded himself into shadows, away from you. The look on his face.

"He left me. When I needed him more than ever." You admit.

Your voice doesn't waver but Cassian can still see the slight tremble in your shoulders, rolling in. Your eyes have dropped to study the floor of the sparring ring, seemingly lost in the memory.

Cassian's face softens, his heart aching for you. You don't even notice how your own wings have begun to curl in, a soft, comforting blanket around yourself.

It's clear you're struggling to juggle the myriad of emotions that haunt you and he gets it, Mother, does he get it. It had been hard the first time, during those first tentative months of friendship with Rhys, before Azriel was even in the picture. Cassian had one emotion that served him any purpose and that was spite.

Spite kept him alive. Spite told him who to knock down and who to put down.

Friendships and spite are not the greatest combination. When Rhys had done something Cassian had vehemently disagreed with, it had felt like a deception, stinging as badly as the backhand from Lord Devlon, sneering the word bastard.

It took time to undo the messy tangle of emotions, to learn that not all betrayal fell into the same box. That forgiveness for some people was not weakness at all.

So, Cassian asks. "Did he come back?"

You glance up at him, eyes flickering with emotion at the question. After a moment, you swallow and say. "Yes. He did."

Cassian nods. He stretches his wings out a bit and reaches up to push a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

"Alright. How long do you intend to punish him for that mistake?"

You freeze at that question and Cassian can tell he's hit the right spot. You're unsure how long you should—because all you know is that you're hurt. And when you're hurt, you don't know any other way to deal with it.

There's only one pathway ingrained for when someone hurts you. Cassian realises suddenly, Mother help him, that he must try to be good at the talking side of things. He needs to show you there's other ways you can go.

"Because," He continues, not waiting for your answer. "I can assure you that Azriel will punish himself for far longer and far harsher than you ever will. I've known my brother a long time. If there anyone who understands the gravity of his actions and will torture himself over them, it's Azriel."

A hesitant expression shutters across your face, your brows furrowing slightly. Cassian doesn't need Rhys' daemati gift to understand the conflict that's battling within you.

"You think I should forgive him."

You don't pose it as a question. A little bit more of that iciness has bled back into your voice, on guard again.

Cassian can tell that, like him, you don't take well to being told what to do. That's fine; Cassian has no intention of doing that whatsoever.

"I think that is your decision entirely." Cassian says, letting the words breathe so they truly sink in. He watches as your eyes narrow momentarily and then your shoulders relax, sinking down an inch.

"But," He says gingerly. "If you avoid each other, you might never move past this. Might never move forward. It might be worth considering what you really want at the end of the day."

The sun has properly broken across the mountain ridges, no longer just sparse rays. You turn your face, facing towards the warmth. There's still that scrunch between your eyebrows, betraying your deep thought, but Cassian has said enough for now.

He moves his sword and taps the end of it against the stone, a soft steel ping grabbing your attention. You whip your head back to face him and Cassian grins, raising his sword.

"Enough talking. More fighting."

You smile, a little hesitant but entirely genuine, and raise your sword in response. That's one thing you're sure you know how to do right.

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[dragon-ascent]

Imagine being able to see people’s elemental aura. If they bear a vision, the energy around them takes the color of the corresponding element. So Pyro users have a burning red-orange energy flickering about them while Dendro wielders are draped in a calm deep green. Only you can see their aura, perhaps just a special (but mostly useless) gift you were born with.

Which is why when you start working for Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and are introduced to Zhongli, you’re freaking out that you can’t tell anyone he’s actually the Geo Archon who is supposed to be dead.

Shimmering golden rays with a glare so intense they may just be exploding stars suspended in sunlight…yes, the aura around him is simply unmistakable. The Dendro Archon’s wavelength was of a similar intensity back when you attended the Sabzeruz festival. The appearance of the Raiden Shogun during Irodori had you beholding a similar feeling.

Zhongli’s every action only confirms it, not that confirmation was ever needed. His knowledge is too vast to be that of a young man, his mannerisms more ethereal than worldly, his gait steadier than stone.

Soon enough, he takes notice of the way you’re always so jittery around him – but he chalks it up to you being a naturally skittish thing. So he tries to alleviate your nerves by talking to you any chance he gets…not that that helps because his every word has you even more on edge.

“So true, bestie!” you blurt out after he’s told you something that’s gone in one ear and out the other. “Speaking of, isn’t it so sad that Rex Lapis is dead?”

Zhongli pauses, eyeing you curiously. “My dear, this is the third time this week you have brought up the topic of the Geo Lord’s death. Has it affected you so? Please take comfort in that He remains in all our hearts, watching over us common folk from the afterlife.”

He’s mocking me, I just know it! you think, your cheeks heating up as you try not to stare at the divine golden aura crackling around him.

One time, as (un)luck may have it, you accidentally bump into him and spill coffee on his beautiful suit. “Oh gods! Forgive me!” you wail, getting onto your knees. This time…this time he’ll certainly show you his godly wrath…maybe skewer you with his spear…or summon a fissure to swallow you…

But Zhongli is chuckling softly, dabbing at the stain with his lovely embroidered handkerchief. “Please do not fret, my friend. This is nothing a wash will not fix.”

You then insist you’ll cover the cost and get it cleaned, to which he eventually accedes. Holy…when he takes it off to reveal his cream-coloured shirt underneath, it’s like his aura gets even more blinding. It takes everything in you not to just throw yourself at his feet and sing his praises.

(How gorgeous he looks as he works the rest of the day with his coat off.)

He warmly invites you over to his place for tea when you come to return his coat, now cleaned; the house is as well-kept as he is. As night falls, the glow around him only strengthens in response. You can’t stop yourself from asking, mid-sip of your well-made tea:

“What’s Rex Lapis doing working a salaried job?”

[mywhisperingwords]

a touch that never hurts | fred g. weasley

summary: you seem to have fallen for your best friend, which you could handle if only he didn’t constantly touch you word count: 3.2k masterlist

It was official: you were stupid.

Only a complete idiot would fall for their best mate and here you’ve gone and done it. Because there was no other explanation for this feeling in your stomach as you looked across the Great Hall and watched Fred Weasley tell some stupid joke to his friends and wishing nothing more than to be the one he told the joke to.

He wasn’t even supposed to be here; just earlier today, Snape had given him detention.

While working on the assigned potion, he decided to mix things up to make you laugh after your bad day.

Before class started Snape decided to ruin the day and give everyone’s essays back. You flunked. Hard. After a big explosion and an awful lecture from Snape, any of Fred’s afternoon plans were ruined. For you.

You stood there, frozen in shock, trying to figure out how to go on with your life from here.

But how could you? This realization felt like the worst thing that’s ever happened to you—right after becoming friends with Fred Weasley himself.

You must’ve stood frozen in place for too long because he caught your eye and was now waving you over with his typical charming smile while the people around him were continuing their conversation, oblivious to the turmoil inside you. You briefly considered turning around and running away, but you decided against it. That would make this situation even more awkward than it already was.

Taking a deep breath and mustering a wobbly smile, you made your way over to the Gryffindor table. You exchanged greetings with your friends and headed toward a seat, hoping to get as far away from Fred as you could. But, of course, Fred had other plans. With a grin, he shoved Lee aside and proudly declared the seat next to him as free.

Bloody hell, he was making it hard for you. It’s as if he knew and wanted to torture you now that you had finally realized your true feelings. Feelings that didn’t actually exist; denial was your new best friend.

With no other choice, other than making this one hell of an uncomfortable situation for everyone, you reluctantly sat down next to him, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible.

But to no avail. As soon as you sat down Fred swung his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. “Thank Merlin you’re here. Could you be a darling and tell our idiotic friends that Snape does in fact secretly love me and that is the only reason he so often chooses to see me after class?”

‘Darling’ and ‘secretly loves me’, seemed to be the only thing your brain registered, not to mention that arm still wrapped around you. Has he always been this physically affectionate with you? It was hard to remember because Fred was looking at you expectantly as if he were waiting for something and…

Finally, your brain catches up, “Oh, that my dear Fred, is what we call detention. And wouldn't you know it, you're supposed to be there... like right now!" You playfully glanced at your imaginary wristwatch.

You could practically see the second he realized you were right. In a hurry, he jumped up from his seat and snatched the last food from his plate. But there was something important he seemed to have forgotten.

With a grin, you asked him, "Aren't you forgetting something?" Confusion washed over his face as he turned back to the table, searching for what he had missed, not finding anything. After a brief moment, he leaned down and surprised you with a kiss on your cheek. Speechless and mouth agape, you watched as the rest of the table erupted in snickers.

"You git!" you exclaimed, feeling your cheeks burn. "I meant your wand!"

Instead of being flustered like you, Fred found the whole situation hilarious. He joined in laughter with his friends and sent you a playful wink. With a glint in his eye, he swiftly retrieved his wand and innocently exclaimed, "Oops!" before making a speedy exit from the Great Hall.

Still trying to process what just happened, you turned to your friends, hoping they could provide the distraction and peace of mind you desperately needed.

Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, George decided to torture you. With a grin, he leaned in and asked if you've figured it out yet. Your whole body tensed up, and you found yourself desperately wishing for an escape.

In your horrified state, you managed to stammer out a weak, "W-What?" The anticipation of his response hung heavy in the air, and you braced yourself for the worst.

George burst into laughter, which echoed through the Great Hall, making everything feel ten times worse. You couldn’t help but feel exposed, as if your deepest secrets were on display for everyone to see.

Through his laughter, George managed to squeeze out, "Bloody hell. Looks like someone forgot the essay for McGonagall that's due tomorrow."

You breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that he had no idea. How could he? You yourself just figured it out. And you’d do anything to keep it that way. You won’t tell a soul about any of it and just pretend that things were normal.

✧

How naive could you be? How in your right mind could you ever think that keeping this from Fred was a possibility?

He knew you better than you knew yourself.

No matter how hard you tried to keep things like always it just wouldn’t go your way. First everything was completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary. You two would banter and share jokes. But as soon as he touched you in any way you panicked and run away from him.

You hadn’t realized how often he reached for you. It apparently had become like second nature for him.

At first you noticed the small touches, like accidentally bumping shoulders while walking together or him gently tapping your arm to get your attention.

But it was the larger gestures that pushed you to your breaking point, stirring up your traitorous heart even more. Like when he reached out and grabbed your hand in the bustling crowd of students during a visit to Hogsmead.

But the absolute worst was when he would slide in next to you, casually drape his arm around your shoulder and pull you close, all while effortlessly engaging in conversation with someone else. And what made it even more unbearable was that no one seemed to bat an eye. It was as if this physical closeness was an unspoken agreement between the two of you, that no one remembered to inform you about.

But as much as you tried to subtly keep your distance you could tell that Fred knew something was wrong. He saw it in the way you would purposefully choose to sit the furthest away from him even when the seat next to him was unoccupied.

You saw the confusion in his eyes when you started to avoid going to Hogsmead with the excuse of finishing your school work. He knew that this was never something that stopped you from spending time with him or your friends.

Since that first year you met Fred on the train, he’d been a constant presence in your life. You stumbled upon Fred and George pulling a prank on their older brother Percy. Instead of telling on them, you decided to join in on the mischief. As a result, Percy ended up with boils all over his face. From that moment on, you and Fred became inseparable. So, when you suddenly started pulling away without any explanation, it felt like the most awful thing you could do to him.

And you could tell that it was hurting Fred too. He wasn't the type to wear his heart on his sleeve; in fact, quite the opposite. But after all the years you've known him, you were priding yourself on understanding him better than most people in his life. He would never outright admit it, but your actions were causing him pain.

He would extend his hand, reach out, but as soon as he noticed that you turned away from him, he would pull back. In that fleeting moment, you could see the hurt and confusion reflected in his eyes, mirroring the hurt you were experiencing.

He even attempted to talk about it once. Normally, he would rely on laughter to uplift your spirits rather than delve into the realm of emotions. So when he approached you before your class, specifically to ask if you were okay, it created an awkward conversation for the both of you. All you could do was promise him, that if anything was wrong, you’d tell him.

What a lie.

His genuine concern shattered your heart. But it wasn't just him who could sense that something was off. You noticed how your friends would exchange worried glances every time you came up with a new excuse to avoid spending time with Fred.

Being around him became an unbearable risk, fearing that he might somehow discover your true feelings for him. It wasn’t just a simple crush; your feelings ran deeper, more intense.

Every time you witnessed his infectious laughter or his ability to light up the entire room with his jokes, a swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach, consuming you from within. The guilt of keeping such a significant secret from him and the rest of your friends gnawed at you. But the thought of confessing your feelings and potentially jeopardizing everything held you back.

It has gotten to the point where you chose to spend your free time in the library. You knew that he would never step foot inside of it. So this place became your sanctuary.

But you should’ve known better. Fred Weasley may not be an overly emotional person but he was stubborn to no end.

One night after dinner, that ended with you leaving the table as soon as possible and an excuse, truthful this time, to do your unfinished homework you returned to the only place that felt safe from Fred.

There were only a few students left in the library. You grabbed your Charms Book and settled into a quiet corner, hoping to review your homework for Professor Flitwick.

But your silence was soon disturbed by the one person you wanted to avoid. Which was not entirely true.

The situation hurt, but you couldn’t help wanting to see him — even if only from afar.

Fred appeared to be searching for you because the moment your eyes met, he marched over to where you were sitting.

"Back to doing homework, huh?" he asked, glancing at your table.

"Actually, yes," you replied honestly.

“Oi, sod off. I know you mostly just sit here doing nothing — Lee saw you, you know?” he said.

“I don’t know what Lee thinks he saw but that’s not the truth. This is a library. I study,” you argued.

“Listen, I know you’ve been avoiding me. And I have no idea what I could’ve done. You’ve been blowing me off left and right. You’re being pretty obvious and I think it’s time we had this discussion.”

You stared at him, eyes wide open. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I already told you, everything is fine.”

“Come off it! We’ve been friends for years and I know when something’s off. You’ve been avoiding me and you have been for weeks. I’m done pretending like I don’t know that. And things aren’t fine since you won’t tell me what it is. What’s this really about?” his voice was low, but you could feel his anger seeping through.

But you couldn’t tell him; too much was at stake. You’d lose your best friend. Even the thought alone was too much to bear.

“Fred, please. I just… I can’t explain it to you,” you pleaded.

“Why the hell not? I’m your friend!” You appreciated his concern, but his persistence was becoming overwhelming. “If everything truly was fine you wouldn’t be hiding here all the time! What’s going on?” he demanded, clearly just wanting answers, answers you couldn’t give him.

“I really can’t tell you. Please, I’m begging you, let it go.” Keeping this from him was killing you. You felt awful holding this secret from him. Deep inside you entertained the notion that he felt the same, but doubts held you back. It was pain-filled hiding something so important from a person that meant so much to you. You wished that he felt the same way, but fear gripped you tight.

Fred's anger was palpable, evident from the fury etched on his face. Madam Pince was shooting both of you disapproving glances. You secretly hoped that she would kick you out, giving you an excuse to escape this conversation.

“No, I’m not giving up. I deserve answers and I’m not leaving until I get them, understood?” He defiantly took a seat right in front of you.

You remained silent, refusing to speak another word. The more he pushed, the harder it became to keep this from him.

“I’ve got all night. Nowhere else to be,” he stated, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you. Still refusing to speak, you turned your attention back to your essay, hoping he would eventually relent.

After a few minutes, he broke the silence. His voice now calm and his expression blank. No trace of anger or irritation. It almost seemed like he had come to accept the situation.

“Maybe this is for the best. You clearly don’t want to talk to me, so I’ll guess I won’t bother you anymore,” he said in a monotone voice, before he abruptly stood up and started to walk away, not looking back once.

Hot panic was surging through your veins and in an instant you jumped up, to go after him. Realizing that you were about to lose him either way, you took a chance.

“I like you!” The words echoed through the quiet library, their volume seemingly too loud for the stillness around you. He paused in his tracks, but didn't turn around. Unable to see his reaction, you continued, thinking maybe it was better this way, shielded from the potential disgust his face might reveal.

"I like you, and I'm really sorry, okay? I just need some time to sort things out and get over these feelings. I promise, but right now, I can't be around you. Not right now. That's why I've been avoiding you. Please, please don't hate me," with every word, your desperation spilled out, raw and unfiltered, while your eyes began to burn.

As Fred slowly turned around, his expression was unreadable, and it felt like everything was falling apart. Immediate regret was filling you up. Maybe, if you would’ve stayed silent and kept on ignoring what was going on inside of you, there would have been a chance to mend the friendship later on. But now, it felt like it might be too late.

“You like me?” he asked, his voice filled with bewilderment.

“Please, don’t make me say it again,” you pleaded, feeling overwhelmed by the situation.

His expression slowly transformed into a wide smile, "You're not kidding. You actually like me?"

Confused and feeling a sense of panic, you asked, "Why are you smiling at me like that?"

Fred's grin widened, making him look like a complete idiot, "I can't control it. You've just made me the happiest person in the world. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been hoping to hear those words?"

Silence filled the air. Your heart skipped a beat. "What?"

“I like you too, I was just waiting for you to catch up,” he confessed with a soft grin, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"So, that's why you were always touching me?" you asked, trying to make sense of it all.

He let out a loud laugh, quickly quieted by a stern look from Madam Pince. He sent her an apologetic smile before refocusing on you and speaking in a hushed tone.

"And here I thought I was being smooth about it. I've been trying to let you know for a while now, actually."

“Bloody hell. You mean you felt the same all this time? Why on earth didn't you say anything?" You were in disbelief, feeling like you were in a dream. Maybe you had dozed off while reading about The History and Evolution of Enchantments and Charms Throughout the Ages.

"Well, why didn't you?" he asked.

"You've got me there," you said with a quiet laugh, looking down at the ground. After a moment of silence, you glanced up and saw him smiling softly at you.

"So... what's the plan now?" you asked, seeking some clarity.

"You like me, I like you. It's pretty clear, isn't it?" he responded.

You squinted your eyes at him, still not fully convinced.

"Now I can touch you as much as I want, and you can't escape anymore," he said with a mischievous grin, taking a step closer until he stood right in front of you.

"Oh, Merlin. You're a git," you exclaimed, unable to hold back a laugh. "Why on earth do I like you again?"

“Because I’m just that irresistible, obviously,” he laughed, joining in with you.

You placed your hand on his chest and playfully gave him a nudge. But before you could pull away, he surprised you by grabbing your hand. As you looked down at his hand enveloping yours, he posed a question. "So, about you admitting you like me... do you wanna back that up with a kiss?"

"Mhm, I'll have to think about that," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if you deserve it, to be honest."

He grinned cheekily and retorted, "Oh, I definitely deserve it. What have I ever done to not deserve it?"

“Let’s try and remember. Just last week you-”

As you were about to list all the things he had done, he surprised you again by silencing your words with a passionate kiss. In that moment, your thoughts faded into insignificance, consumed by the intensity of the kiss. His hand gently caressed your cheek, deepening the connection between you. Your emotions were running wild, and it felt as if your body was ablaze.

After a moment or an hour, he pulled back, and you took a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. Opening your eyes, you gazed up at him.

"Sorry, I interrupted you. What were you saying?" he asked, his playful tone laced with a hint of mischief.

“I can’t remember,” you murmured, connecting your lips with his once more.

You’d been wrong all along—falling for your best friend might have been the best idea of all.

[chlmtsdoll]

hear me out

reader and girl friends dancing and drinking at a nightclub after work when one of the girls says something like "holy shit, look at those two, they're hot"

when reader turns to look, she sees Patrick and Art laughing and having fun together

"i want the brunette one", one says, "are you crazy? look at the blonde, how hot he is", another responds.

"fifty bucks for whoever gets both"

reader smiles. it's showtime.

OH? IT’S GIVING SATC 🤭

This was supposed to be short but I got carried away I’m afraid ! 🎀 | 18 + smut, p in v unprotected sex, oral (m) receiving, heavy obnoxious flirting, kinda messy reader

When the club had been this crowded with a full dance floor and beautiful men nearly everywhere you looked, finally letting loose after a long work week with your girls was enough motivation to get the confidence pumping between the three of you.

Your friends were frozen. Facing the the bar area where this six foot blonde and brunette were standing, laughing like everything around them was funny. One had an infectious grin, hair untamed and a tight dark skirt that show cased his brooding arms. He was the tallest and had ‘a party girls wet dream’ written all over him. The other slightly more polished, could pass for the stereotypical Ken doll type with his charming smile, sterling blue eyes with golden locks combination. You couldn’t find why he would be here, he looked like the only interested in finding a wife type.

Either way, the two men had your thighs pushing against one another the second the girls began chattering about. And once you heard ‘fifty bucks for whoever can get both’ your ears were all game.

“Oh, I am so in. That brunette is scorching.”

“And ? Look at that blondes jawline, bitch.”

“Double the pay if they both finish.” You announce. Both of your girlfriend’s locks go up in the air as they whip around to see the smirk pulling at your lips. They quickly take upon one of their own as well.

“Oh… the competition just got serious.” One of them says.

“It’s been serious. Those guys are totally loaded..” The other comments.

Your eyebrow dips. “What makes you think that ?”

“Oh come on, what two guys that hot are going to come to the club and not be looking to spend their cash on a girl ?”

Her theory wasn’t too out of range. There was something quite different from the boys across from you all. Setting them apart from the other clueless guys around just trying to get as drunk as they possibly can. There was a more tamed and calculated aura to these two. Something that made them not only sexy, but stand out profoundly.

“..or, they could just be gay.” The other girl replies casually and the three of you burst into laughter.

“Oh my god, shut up!”

You giggle, slightly rolling your eyes to land on the two men occasionally eyeing the dance floor as if they’re considering joining in the crowd. And that’s when you caught the gaze of the one with the darker head of hair, he flashed you a smile that sent a thrill straight to your core. You tried not to blush so terribly your friends would be on to you and raise the stakes.

But you couldn't help but ponder if they’d been right too — not about the gay thing, but if they truly we’re packing bills.

And soon you found yourself worrying less about what was in you and your friends wallets, and whatever was in theirs.

“Okay. Let’s get in there. Game on.”

You and your girls were heading over to the bar, tight mini skirts and all with just the right amount of cleavage on display for your upcoming play date. And with hardly any nerves that you’d loose to the two, knowing you had it locked in with the way you just got checked out hard from the brunette all the way across the bar had your hopes high.

As you all were now getting ready to own that bar area, you let your friends have a try at playing with the men first — and it was certainly quite amusing to watch them try to flirt with both the blonde and brunette at the same time.

With fingers twirling in their hair, laughing a little too hysterically at whatever was said and trying to keep both of their attention, you wondered from observation if it crossed them that it wasn’t as easy as they’d think. One of the boys was either off staring at another cute girl or just looking for a drink when your friends hadn’t been trying to sweet talk them into a little more fun. The most they got was a couple flattering laughs from the two.. and you couldn’t help but chuckle yourself, their game play was adorable.

But they failed where you knew best. Multitasking.

So when it was your turn to get your head in the game, one of your friends walking past you in defeat from her attempt whispered, “totally gay.” in your ear post her rejection from the charming boys. You tried not to laugh in her face but you did crack and grin.

You were up next. And you wasted no time going in.

You played it all out in your head within a few minutes of taking note of the two and also of course where your friends lacked. It would be an easy job especially since you spent your week trying to sell to people at work. You knew charm like the back of your hand — soon enough you’d be making out with these guys in the back of the club in no time.

Hips swayed without any real effort as you found where the brunette had been standing nearby the vault of vodka and steely liquor at the bar. Purposefully leaning against the counter and close enough to his side for him to hear you call to get one of the bartenders attention, “Um- - could I get another drink ??” You attempted. But with it being rush hour, they'd all been too occupied.

And that’s when your plan started to make the magic happen.

The towering man beside you glanced over his shoulder at your presence, noticing you weren’t getting any luck with the attention of the bartenders and he inspected your soft and sweetened voice pretty quickly. But also with just how edible he thought you were from earlier, “what do you want, doll face ?” he turned to face you with a grin that was as overwhelmingly striking as they come. It could have made any girl want to drop her panties at the sight. And his voice sounded as if he knew that he absolutely could, “it’s packed in here, yeah ? I’ll get someone for you.”

If it wasn’t for your determination, you would have erupted into a melted pile on the ground after he winked down at you. “Oh- no, it’s fine. I’m sure my friends annoyed you enough.” You laughed lightly and he joined along with you.

“Nah, they’re cute girls… but I gotta admit, I was kinda hopin’ you’d be the one to come over and annoy me a little bit.” His eyes focused on the way your lips curled up into a swayed smile and your face was flustered quicker than the flashing lights on the ceiling. He could be bluffing. And he probably was. Even though that was supposed to be your job here — it was totally working.

You titter, “..really ?”

“Really.”

“Well than, I guess I stumbled into the right spot.” (You wanted to pat yourself on the back. You’d been farther ahead than you even assumed.) “What do they call you ?”

“Patrick, a hell of a fun time, Zweig. Your pick.” his tongue darted out to wet his lips before he took a swing of his drink, and you were all laugher as his green eyes followed you from over the rim.

This was when you could implement the gorgeous blonde to his right — eyeing off to a couple of girls on the floor. With your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, you step a little closer to Patrick, glance going from him to other handsome work of art beside. The space getting less and less personal between you two didn’t scare him either.

“Well, Patrick… who’s your friend- - ?” Your eyes darted to where he stood and the brunette hit his poor friend in the chest to get his attention on you, when he did, you noticed the uniqueness of his eyes up close. You could of seen it from across the bar — but this is another level. Some kind of otherworldly matter, it got you choked up for a moment.

He was about to make you bank.

“This is Art.”

Of course it is.

Your were trying not to drool as you took a little too long to examine the way Art leaned up with a miniature straw pressed against his pretty lips with a soft sideways smirk,

“I think he’s a cutie..” You sputter as you bit your lip with a cheeky smile. Trying not to get lost in Arts gaze — you had to remember the goal, get your head in the game to why you’d walked over here in the first damn place.

“I think you’re both pretty cute..”

“Yeah?” Patrick chuckled and grinned at his friend, they looked at each other like it had been some hidden kind of communication. Like they already knew what the other was trying to say telepathically. That was a signal to you that this was for sure a package deal — you’d have both of them tonight. Not only did they welcome it, but they’d probably been here for that exact motive.

Art gave you a little smile, “We had our eye on you the whole night honestly, so that’s good to know…”

There it is.

You laughed a bit and shrugged. Eyes following back to the darker haired one. “So I heard..”

“How come you aren’t out there?” Art nodded to the dance floor full of bodies, his eyes ran over you, “you’re a stunning girl.. no way none of these guys asked you to dance.”

You hoped to god you weren’t getting flustered. They’re just boys. Ones that you needed to be bedded by till the sun came up, but still.

“I’m- uh.. a bit shy.” (You weren’t. You had your fair share of men in and out of your apartment. Not as stunning as Art and Patrick although, so making them feel extra special wasn’t too much of a stretched truth.) “so it’s rare I even talk to guys.. but you two- - I just had to say something.” You giggled and they were leaning into your laughter with their own. You could swear you smelled Burberry cologne being sent your way from one of them, if not both. Maybe your friends had been right about the wealth.

Art and Patricks attention had been solidly on you. And you didn’t know if it was the way you decided to style your hair tonight, and the way you made sure to keep lustful but sweet eyes between them, or if your friends just sucked at flirting. But you were already yearning to keep this going.

It was time to throw them a curve to lock in their undivided for the rest of the night.

“Well- - I should get back to my friends, they probably think it’s way odd of me to even be over here..” you tittered with a soft goodbye smile as you began to turn away from the men and before you could even step away from the countertop, “wait!” was being called your way from over your shoulder.

A smirk was ridden on your lips once again. You turned back to face their pitch with curiosity.

“Stay a little longer?” Patrick asked of you with a beam.

“Yeah, let us buy you a drink.. what are you? An espresso?”

“No. Man, she’s a cosmo girl, trust me. You are- - aren’t you?” When the brunette corrected his friend, blue and green orbs focused on your answer in desperation you’d keep them a little more company. And you couldn’t help your decisive but giddy expression that was all too pleased with your work here.

“I am actually, yes.” You chuckled before taking a stand between the two tall and handsome men with much more than a quick fuck and collecting your rewards on your mind now. You actually sort of liked them. And that was rare with any man you’d meet doing an activity like clubbing, especially two of them.

As time went on, Art and Patrick were racking up on buying you drink after drink. As many as you wanted. Within as little as an hour that passed, you’d been with the two boys as if you’d known them your entire life. It could have been borderline love bombing with how fast you went from zero to a hundred. Both men simultaneously wrapping their arms around you from behind, laughing loudly as you’d been glued between the two of them. Even dancing in ways more than a couple flirts could have gotten you.

The boys were more than happy to keep tipping the bartenders with haughty smirks after getting you sparked up and hanging on their arms of course, even having one too many of their own. The three of you took it to the lounge area and your friends would be somewhere watching in disbelief and slight envy of how quickly you were able to get handsy with Art and Patrick.

You’d been passed back and forth on their laps as you chatted and even snuck a couple kisses by now. Totally giddy off their energy and the liquids they’d been giving you. The way Art had slipped his wallet back into his back pocket after buying you another drink, was a straight turn on to the point you’d been sticking sugary kisses to his neck as he did so with a couple playful bites, the man grinned at your bubbly essence. Your not so careful hands slid up his chest and slung over his shoulders, “Mmm- -You’re the sweet one aren’t you?” You giggle, finger tips run over his jaw and Art bit down on his peachy lip while he held on to your hips nice and easy, yet with a respectful distance. He couldn’t find the words to define the way he’d been enjoying the way you stroked his ego all night long.

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s actually a menace.” Patrick scoffed as he sat man spread in the seat across from you two with a cigarette in hand.

“Fuck off.” His friend defended lightly. It was the way you could tell he enjoyed the playful banter when Patrick poked at him tonight that solidified to you just how close they really were. You thought it was adorable.

“You two really do everything together, huh?” You toyed with Arts now loose collar, casually sipping on something clear with flirtatious eyes, and the man shrugged a bit as he glanced at the brunette across from him who was hiding a sardonic kind of look behind his glass.

“I mean, well- - somethings..” The blonde nodded with a soft smile, but you raised a brow. “Most things.” He corrected, he and Patrick narrowed eyes at one another. You noticed with a devious little hum at the way the blonde had still been holding back. It made your lips turn up with a grin, watching between the two as Art struggled to confess the obvious. “Okay. Yeah- kind of.. everything.” With a flustered look towards the brunette, Arts eyes trailed off with a sort of blush as you leaned into his shoulder. All close to the blue eyed man getting harshly coy now.

“That’s so cute. Like brothers..” you smiled in Patrick’s direction and he immediately let out heavy laughter.

“Not exactly.” The other man grinned. You tilted your head some, and looked at Art again with wonder in your eyes.

“Like.. lovers ?” Your eyes were wide as you focused on the blonde and he shook his head and drowned out his flustered expression with a swing from his glass. Patrick had smirked at your final conclusion, but still, the two gave you not a significant confirmation spite lingering looks and the newfound heat coming from Arts body.

Holy fuck

not just one, but both your friends had been right.

You were already one step ahead with more questions to coax out of the two if a bartender hadn’t interrupted with a new round of shots and your mind was quickly occupied as you ‘ooo’d’ at the tray being set beyond you. Patrick met your gaze and grinned. “Baby, come take one with me,” you were cheerfully being swapped from Arts lap to Patrick’s — bouncing over his way and also grabbing a shot with him.

A quick clink of your glasses filled the air along with your energetic giggles as the man who groped you with firmness in his lap contrast Art, drowned the substance at the same time. Patricks roaming hands were coarse and just as bold as he was when you straddled him after letting the liquor flow down your throat with ease, you wiped your stained lips with the back of your palm.

“Shit.. you took that so well, pretty girl..” Patrick took the glass from your hands, his hooded eyes stayed on you with a smirk. You brushed your fingers over the light stubble to his chin and leaned in close,

“I can take a lot of things pretty well.” You whispered so only he could hear with a smile, you scanned the area proudly as you were very aware of the show you’d been putting up all night. Patrick shifted in his seat with arousal, lips inches away from yours so you went in deep with a kiss.

The man groaned, “Is that so?” He pushed your hips farther into his lap as you’d been lipping off his jaw with a prideful giggle. You were messing with the hem of his shirt as you remembered you still had your own benefit of the deal to seal — getting the boys somewhere you could have your way with them. You came this far, why stop now when you’d been so close to victory?

“Mmhm… want me to show you how?”

Your words were music to the brunettes ears. His eyebrows rose as he watched you lean up with a grin, intertwining your fingers through his knuckles and Patrick stood as you were able to grab Arts attention too. Abruptly stripping him of his seat as well. “oh- - we’re going somewhere else..” the blonde rushed to follow where you’d been leading for a little more privacy. A secluded vip party section that you were a hundred percent not allowed in without a fee — but something about the trespassing turned you on even more. With a finger to your lips, you gave the two a silent “shh” along with your little grin and lustful eyes. They were all in with thrill and eager hands to get on you anyways.

You had gone to the nervously flattered one first. Taking his hands to wrap them around your waist, you stood on your toes to press your lips against his, carefully moving your jaw with Art’s and melting into the dance of it on instant. Your fingertips crawl through his butterscotch tinted curls like you couldn’t get enough. And Art went to a little bit of a risk, he didn’t stop his hands from slipping down to grip your ass beneath your tight skirt.

“Mmm.. easy blondie- -” you giggled with a soft push to his collarbone so he’d been a tad away from you once again, and Art finally let himself breathe with a mumbled curse coming from his lips.

You then made your way to the brunette beside him — but before you could even take your stance, the man pulled you in without a warning. Pressing his broad body against you as he collided his mouth with yours in one swift motion and your whimpers had been an immediate reaction by the way Patrick left sloppy kisses wherever he could. Down your neck, over the top of your chest. You grinned as you eyed the man next to him while Patrick tore into your skin.

You found the vile rising tent in Arts jeans quite cute.

You let your hand trail to where his button began and you undid it as quick as you could with the way Patrick had been holding your body like some kind of rag doll. Art helped you unzip them, and when Patrick had flung you around so your back was flush against his chest, your jaw was unleashed as you squealed.

“You really aren’t shy are you?” His voice was richer than before — full of the whisky and pent up from the foreplay of the last hour making you let out a loose laugh while the man pushed past your messy hair to kiss on your neck.

“I am- - but even the quite ones have our needs.. right, Art?”

The blonde let out a coy chuckle before his blush took over more of his expression and with that you had been hiking up your skirt to tuck your thumbs into the hem of your panties to pull them down your thighs. “Oh, shit.. shit” Art was already softly groaning as you used his undone belt buckle as leverage to get the lacy pair from your feet and he watched with overwhelming interest in the way Patrick caught your drift and started to get his own belt gone faster than you got them into that room.

“Fuck” Patrick, equally aroused, groaned when he had got his hardened dick out of his boxers. Your mind was so clouded from the tension of the way he grabbed on to your clothed breasts behind your top, rummaging to find your sensitive nipples — you were panting from the friction of his throbbing member that was far ready to fuck you senseless, just brushing against your upper thigh. You bit down on your lip hard as you looked up at the finely built man behind you who had a smirk stuck to his face before he toyed at your already slick pussy with his fingers.

“Go on… put it in- -” your drunken mind went fuzzy when the dark haired man started to slide through your walls, your hand went slapping against whatever you could reach in the confined space you’d been in as a full moan escaped you — your eyes fluttered from the way Patrick stretched you open on his cock. Keeping both hands on your hips so you didn’t fall over as your legs already begun to go weak. He didn’t even hesitate to plunge into you with a grunt. “I wasn’t- - even planning on.. fucking you tonight, but fuck, I knew you wanted it.” Patrick groaned out while he snapped his hips against your ass and you turned into a mess of whimpers. You’d been in a slight arch for his entrance, cunt clenching around his length so much so you were sure to turn into a stuttering mess within minutes.

Arts reddened cock was on your mind as he’d been right ahead of you just in reach of your sloppy fuck with the brunette. And as “Oh ! Fuck.. yes, yes” was being thrusted out of you, you still reached out to start stroking him. Art hissed on contact with your warm palms on his shaft like you’d been a pro. And he was gorgeous, eyebrows knitted away as he melted into your heavenly coax of his dick, stiff enough to cum right then just from the voyeurism of it all.

“Baby.. faster- - just like that..” Art groaned before putting a hand on your waist that was being rutted by his friend. You spit on your hand quickly before going back to use it on Art. Your legs were in fact giving out — but the bliss due to the man fucking into you was just too good to let go to waste.

“Patrick..keep fucking me- - mmm.. please, it feels so-so good.” You whine while your wetness sticks to the curve of your inner thighs, you could hear the man’s haughty snicker run through your ears. He was now digging his fingers into your hips, slowing his movements to watching himself pump in and out of your hole with rhythm.

“Hold still, sweet girl.. I’m gonna make you cum- -”

That wasn’t what you needed. But what the heck.

With Patrick pounding a couple cries out of you down the line, he'd been putting his hands roughly in your hair to push you over the ledge as you began to make a mess on his twitching cock. “Mmmh.. f-fuck- yes..!” You couldn’t give a damn at how loud you were being. Your creamy juices were left on the man as he wasted no time to pull out of you and start pumping away at his cock on your backside. Using the wall as a rest with his damp curls stuck to his forehead, he released ropes of his cum on to the dip of your back with a low grunt. By the time he tapped the last few drops on your ass, you had a teasing little hazy smile on your face and Patrick held you up again like used goods.

You got one down. You already knew with a few strokes of your tongue, Art would have that sweet release too. So you got on your knees without a question and attached your generous lips around the blondes member. He closed his eyes to feel the heated wetness of your mouth closing on him. “Oh god,” he panted as you suctioned your lips around his tip. Te naughtiest kind of sounds leaving you while you sucked a climax from Art at the same time. The feeling of his cock down your throat, mixed with the moaning through the moment his cum flows through, made your mouth feel totally full and fucked out. Art cursed at the way you looked so pretty taking him on your knees like this — but he thought you were far too comely to be down there for long, so as soon as you swallowed he helped you rise to your feet with a small stumble, but the man managed to keep you aligned as he grabbed hold of you with a soft grin.

“You’re too good, even drunk. I mean, shit..” Patrick panted as he observed your state. Just like before. Arms flung over Arts shoulders as you leaned into him with flirtatiousness.

“You fuck good.” You eyed him back, your voice was a little too impressed to the brunette, but he was appreciative of the acknowledgement. You had focused on the blonde again, whose chest was against yours, running your finger over his cheek in playfulness with a small giggle.

“And you have to play Ken in me next time..”

He looked down as he just couldn’t help himself but shy away from your compliment. “next time, huh ?” Art questioned with a soft chuckle, You nodded and kept your place temptingly close to the blondes lips. “Well then, we’ve gotta get you home first.”

After Patrick and Art insisted on paying for your Uber back to your apartment, they were also nearly begging for your number as well — and after a few waters to sober up, and a kind hearted snap of your seatbelt from one of the boys, you eventually did give in.

You nearly forgot you had a pay to pick up from your friends at your hangover brunch the next morning, and of course the girls wanted all the details about everything from the previous night while bills were paid to you gladly.

You planned on giving the two hot guys at the bar a handjob and couple kisses at the beginning. But exposing to your friends that you got to cum on Patrick’s cock while you jerked off Art and sealed your deal was an extra bonus as they both ended up being as sweet as they come.

Maybe two boyfriends wouldn’t hurt.

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!

⊱ Those Three Words ⊰ || Mr. Silvair X Reader

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮   Character(s): Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Route End: Mr. Silver Hair 1), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and Horror-Elements), Cultural Barriers (Mr. Silvair Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Slight Angst, Pre-Established Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~3,280 Request: “Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!” Author’s Note: Mr. Silvair!!! He’s genuinely so pretty, y’all – it’s not fair. 😔 I find his overall character to be quite fascinating, and a part of me is really hoping the game gets a DLC or something to further expand on each of the character’s lore (and more moments with the MC, of course). Like game, what do you mean that some of the monsters may have been humans while others probably never were?? I desperately need more food… I headcanon that Mr. Silvair was either 1. never human, or 2. has been in the other world for a very long time, resulting in the loss of his memory as a human which could be why he’s so interested in researching them/maintaining the MC’s humanity. 🤔 But that’s just a theory – a game theory! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

Even after everything that had happened between you and this world’s resident human-enjoyer, you surprisingly still felt at ease with Mr. Silvair. That comfortability, though, made you think hard about your sanity. After all, it probably wasn’t normal to be comfortable around someone who enjoyed taking you apart and watching your body put itself back together over and over again. Yet, you did, and you didn’t mind your current arrangement as much as you probably would have in the past. 

Mr. Silvair’s home was destroyed in a fiery explosion (courtesy of himself), so you had offered to help him find a new one. You managed to locate a large room, one that he deemed satisfactory enough to call his base, and you had been staying with him indefinitely since then. As long as you had a comfy bed to lay in and someone else to keep you company, you were happy. 

Your other friends(?) frequently stopped by as well to say hello, the most common ones being Mr. Crawling and Mr. Chopped. While you were occasionally hit with a feeling of loneliness, it was hard to feel that way with so many friendly faces around. Well… maybe their faces weren’t that friendly, but they were kind and gentle with you, and that’s what truly mattered. 

You hear the sound of Mr. Silvair moving around in the room adjacent to the one you typically stayed in, and you wonder to yourself what his plans for today are. The tall, long-haired man spent most of his time engaged in research. You didn’t see him as frequently as one would expect despite the fact you two were practically roommates. All you could do was hope he wasn’t messing around with and subsequently angering any more terrifying, violent ghosts. You enjoyed your current home, and going out to look for another one wasn’t very high on your list of things to do. 

The Rubik’s Cube in your hand was still as scattered as ever, and it seemed like, no matter how long you spent trying to solve it, you were only able to successfully complete one side. Mr. Masque was kind enough to give it to you (he apparently had a whole stash of the things somewhere), and his gift was something you were immensely grateful for. Attempting to figure out the puzzle helped you pass the time wherever you were alone (and it most likely helped you keep your head on straight). 

You’re currently lying flat on your back atop the plush bed in the relatively empty living space, looking up at the gray concrete ceiling with a blank stare. Once you decide you’ve loafed around for long enough, you stand up slowly from the bed, placing the cube gently on the covers of the cot. You stretch your arms above your head, a strangled noise coming from your throat at the movement of your stiff muscles, and you begin to make your way to the other room where your… 

What even was Mr. Silvair to you? While yes, you were fond of him – hell, you’d go as far as to say you loved him – you knew he didn’t feel the same. You remember the moment he told you “I not understand like”, and that he didn’t want to save you from your condition, no… he found you entertaining to keep around, and that’s why he did what he did. 

It was complicated, you thought, trying to have a relationship with a being who didn’t grasp what the concept of love was. Deep down, though, you knew you wouldn’t change it for the world. He enjoyed your presence, and that was all you could ask for. 

You walk over to the metal door and knock, waiting for a response. After a moment, you hear Mr. Silvair’s voice echo, “Enter.”

The door opens with a slight creak as you twist the knob, peeking your head inside the somewhat grimy space. The room, still fairly new, didn’t have as much blood or gore as his old one did. There were fresh stains on the floor and wall, you noted, and you couldn’t help but wonder who or what they were from exactly. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, though, so you didn’t bother asking. 

You grin up at the taller man and give him a small wave, saying softly, “Hello. I not bother?”

He returns your smile, placing the scalpel in his hand on the stainless steel tray that held a variety of medical tools. It looked like he was in the process of cleaning the many, typically blood-stained, pieces of equipment. Mr. Silvair turns to face you and replies gently, “Hello. You not bother. Enter.”

Tilting his head to one side, his long, silver locks move when he does, cascading down his head and slipping off his shoulder at the movement. His smile drops slightly before he asks, “Feeling unwell? Injured? Need cure?”

“No, no cure.” You quickly say, not quite in the mood to be dissected or taken apart right now (honestly, though, you never really were, even if you did understand why it needed to be done). You pause by the door before finally shutting it behind you, the both of you now alone in the private and secluded space. 

Ugh – why was it so hard to say what was on your mind??

After taking a moment to build up your confidence, you tell Mr. Silvair while fidgeting with the rubber of the clear raincoat you wore, “I want see you. Communicate.”

He hums and smiles at your admission, walking over to you before placing a calloused hand on your face. Your eyes close on instinct, and your breathing shutters when he rubs his thumb across your cheek. A part of you wanted to be annoyed with him since he had to be aware of the effect he had on you, yet you didn’t want to run the risk of him removing his cool palm from your skin, so you kept your mouth shut. 

It had taken quite some time for Mr. Silvair to get to this point of physical affection with you (something he began doing more often after he saw how much you enjoyed getting head-pats from Mr. Crawling), so you didn’t want to ruin any progress you two had made in your complicated and unconventional relationship. 

“Okay,” Mr. Silvar starts, removing his hand from your face as he gestures to one of the two chairs in the room. He smiles down at you before saying, “Sit. We communicate.”

You do as you’re told without speaking another word, your hands folded in your lap after you sit down, watching Mr. Silvair take a seat on the chair across from you. You talk with him for quite some time, doing your best to update him on your current progress with the puzzle since that was pretty much the only thing you had going on in your life. While it wasn’t satisfying to speak in the other world’s language because it tended to miss most of the nuances of speech, it was the only way the two of you could communicate. 

Mr. Silvair seemed to pick up on your frustration, seeing you were growing annoyed at the lack of words in your arsenal – the term you were looking for wasn't coming to mind. In response, he tilts his head to the side and asks you, “You upset. Why?”

“Not right words.” You reply, brows furrowed when you look up at him, your gaze landing on the bloody bandages wrapped around his eyes. You turn your head to look down at the floor, the somewhat fresh pool of blood perfectly matching the color of the Rubik’s Cube. You point to the puddle and turn to ask Mr. Silvair, “What’s this called in your language? Can you tell me how to say this color?”

“Blood.” Mr. Silvair responds, not understanding what you wanted him to explain. 

“No, no.” You quickly reply, shaking your head. You continue to glance between him and the blood, enunciating your words even though he didn’t understand your language the same way you were able to understand his. You didn’t back down or give up, though, saying again, “The color – I want to know what color blood is.”

He pauses, one hand under his chin as he seemingly takes a moment to figure out what you are asking him. After a few beats, Mr. Silvair replies with a word you haven’t heard anyone speak before, “???”

You visibly brighten at the new word, and the expression on your face causes Mr. Silvair to let out a light chuckle before he crosses one of his legs over the other. You take a breath before telling him, “Okay. Thank you.” 

After another pause, you continue to speak, “So… One part object done, red part. Other parts hard – not finish.”

Mr. Silvair had been leaning forward in his chair, his elbow digging into his knee while his hand rested under his chin, holding his head up as he stared at you with an unwavering gaze. He always listened to you with rapt interest, and you would be lying if you said the constant attention didn’t make your heart stutter in your chest. However, he suddenly speaks, pointing to the pool of blood you had been gesturing toward moments before, “What you call that?”

“Huh?” You ask, pausing your story to look at him. Mr. Silvair doesn’t say anything else, though, giving you a moment to comprehend what he has asked you. You perk up when your brain finally registers what Mr. Silvair had said, replying to him happily, “Oh, that’s the color red. So, blood is typically red – blood red.” 

“R-ehd?” He echos, and the sound of his voice speaking a word that you were able to understand without having to flip through your mental dictionary had your breath hitching. It sounded so strange but so nice coming from his lips. 

“Yeah, red! Blood is red!” You say, sounding excited and oh-so happy. Mr. Silvair would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find the look on your face and the tone of your voice endearing. Then, your expression shifts slightly as you lean forward in your chair, saying enthusiastically, “Oh my god – I just got an idea! Me teach you me language!”

“...You language?” Mr. Silvair asks after a moment, shifting in his seat slightly. 

“Yes! Me teach you!” You reply, gesturing to both him and you with your hands. Your mind remembers the way Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped helped you shortly after you first arrived, teaching you directions to walk, facial expressions, and more. They had helped you expand your knowledge of this world’s language, and they were probably responsible for your survival in so many of those early interactions. So, you smile at him as you say, “We same.”

He returns a smile, nodding his head and replying with a simple, “Okay.”

“Alright, so, let me think here…” You hum to yourself, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes while you consider what you should start with. Body parts seemed to be the first thing that popped into your head, so that’s eventually what you decided to start with. Sitting up in the chair, you point toward your hand with the other, tapping a finger to your palm as you speak, “Okay, so, this is my hand – hand. Can you say hand?”

It was kind of cute, strangely enough, seeing Mr. Slivair take the time to repeat the word you spoke over and over in his mind, trying to match the movement of your mouth with his own. Your languages were quite different in sounds, syllables, and the like, so he was practicing what to say before actually speaking. After a few moments of contemplation, he replies, “...H-ah-nd.”

“Hey, that was pretty good! Not bad for your first try, Mr. Silvair, even if the pronunciation is a bit off.” You say with a wide smile, clapping your hands together as you applaud him on his efforts. He chuckles again, finding your way of teaching to be… sweet. 

Then, you speak again, once again grabbing his attention. You tap the pad of your finger under the skin of your eye, asking him, “Do you remember what this is called? I think I’ve told you before.”

Mr. Silvair is quicker in his response this time, having heard you ask him about his own eyes before as he smoothly says, “Eye.” 

“Yes! Good job!” You praise once more, giving him a thumbs up in response. Then, he stands up from his seat, walking over to you while his once-white lab coat flows behind him. You crane your head back to look up at him from where you were still sitting, a simple and stupid, “...Huh?” leaving your mouth. 

Mr. Silvair reaches a hand to your face, cupping your chin gently in his hand. You feel his thumb resting on your bottom lip, and he begins to move his finger back and forth along the slightly chapped flesh, tugging at it slightly. He tilts his head to the side, asking you seriously, “What this called?”

“Oh, uh…” You know your face is probably flushed beyond belief at this point if the heat cascading through your head is anything to go by, and your mind and heart are completely caught off-guard by his sudden touch and question. You avert your gaze to the side, swallowing harshly before you finally reply, “They’re my lips – they’re, umm… similar to mouth. Lips, mouth, same.”

“...Lips?” Mr. Silvair asks again for clarification, his voice having an almost husky tone to it that has a shiver travel down your spine. 

You nod in response, muttering a barely audible, “Yes…” 

Mr. Silvair hums at your response, a small smile gracing his lips. He leans down, face so close to yours, before he inquires with an almost teasing tone to his voice, “You want touch?”

“Y-Yes.” You answer at an almost embarrassingly fast speed. 

The man who you had grown so fond of chuckles at your enthusiasm before leaning forward, pressing his lips softly to yours while he holds your face between his palms. Kisses weren’t a common thing between the two of you, and they were really only something Mr. Silvair initiated when he felt like it. You could feel the intensity at which your heart was beasting due to his sudden affections, and there was a part of you that was worried it would burst out of your chest right then and there. 

Your eyes flutter shut and you tilt your head to the side, your hands coming up to rest atop his – his hands that were holding your cheeks so, so gently. It was almost sickening the way he was holding you like you could break at any moment. 

Then, almost as quickly as it began, the kiss ended before you even realized it did. Mr. Silvair’s forehead was now pressed against yours, and he doesn’t make any move to remove his hands from your face. Your lips were no longer touching, and yet he still lingered.  

Mr. Silvair didn’t play fair, you thought, yet you couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to kiss you so suddenly, so randomly. You close your eyes and your brows furrow at the tightening in your throat, an aching sensation slowly spreading throughout your chest like a disease before you whisper, “...I love you.”

There’s a silence, a stretch of nothingness before Mr. Silvair suddenly asks you, his voice just as soft as yours had been, “Repeat?”

“...No,” Your response is nearly immediate, and you shake your head before repeating once more, “Nothing.”

“...I love you.” The sound of those three words leaving his lips nearly causes your mind to implode. It sounded so sweet, yet it also felt worse than any suffering you had experienced before. The searing and excruciating pain, the feeling of a blade digging itself into the flesh of your torso couldn’t compare to the deep-seated torment you felt right now.

Mr. Silvair hums, tilting his head to the side as his thumbs continue to caress your cheeks, “What mean?”

You knew there was no point, no reason to try and explain your feelings again, but you do. You still do, even though you know it’s pointless to try. You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you speak, finding the concrete floor more interesting, “Mean… mean me like you. Lot like.”

There’s a pause, a moment of contemplation before Mr. Silvair says, “...Not understand.”

“I know.” You reply, nodding your head once in response. 

“You know?” He asks you, sounding somewhat confused, a tone you very rarely heard from the man. Had he forgotten that moment that you couldn’t seem to forget, the memory that you continuously found replaying in your mind like a broken record? It wasn’t fair, you thought, that only you were forced to hold onto such a painful memory. 

“You communicate before.” You clarify, finally willing yourself to look at his face. Mr. Silvair’s expression was tight, his lips drawn into a flat line. 

You needed to get away, to just run from this moment in the hopes he would forget the whole exchange just as he apparently did the last one. You take your hands and grab his wrists, removing his palms from your face before you stand up from the chair. You refuse to look at him as you turn, heading to the door as you utter, “...I’m going to go for a walk, so I’ll be back later. Goodbye.”

Then, you feel something tug at the sleeve of your raincoat. It wasn’t strong, nothing that would actually stop you from moving, but your legs proceeded to hault at the small action. Mr. Silvair says, his tone not demanding in the slightest – if anything, it sounded like a plea as he speaks, “No exit.”

You take a deep breath and turn around to face him, asking in such a small voice that it even caught yourself off-guard, “...Why?”

“I want you here.” Mr. Silvair responds quickly, so quickly it seems to have taken both of you by surprise. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he asks, finally releasing the material of your jacket from in between his fingers, “Stay… Will you stay?”

You once again find yourself wondering if Mr. Silvair was aware of the effect he had on you as a sigh leaves your mouth. You nod your head lightly and reply, “I will stay.”

“Good.” He says in response, a gentle smile on his face as he says for the second time, “I love you.”

You frown at him and shake your head, saying with a slight edge of frustration in your voice, “No speak. Not true.” 

“True… Believe true.” He says quickly, reaching out to once again place a hand against your cheek. You don’t move, don’t flinch away from his touch – you still relish the way he’s holding you like a fragile piece of glass. Mr. Silvair’s brows are furrowed ever so slightly as he mutters, “Confused.”

“You’re telling me… How do you think I feel?” You say with a huff, your hand holding into his as you find yourself nuzzling your nose into his palm. The painful feeling in your chest was still present, but it wasn’t nearly as excruciating as it had been now. You find it in yourself to smile, gazing up at him as you speak, “...but we’ll get through it together – we together. Right?”

“To-geh-ther…” He repeats, leaning down to press his forehead to yours once more as he says softly, “Yes.”

[7ndipity]

Just found your blog and LOVE your bts headcanons so much… after having watched Are You Sure?!, I need all your NSFW headcanons for OT7 as your boyfriend… please please please 🔥

Random NSFW Headcanons

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: Random spicy headcanons about the members

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, unprotected sex(don’t do this), breeding kinks, mentions of edging, oral(m. & f. receiving), bondage, sensory deprivation, dom/sub dynamics, somnophilia, voyeurism, idk there’s a bunch of stuff lol

A/N: You want my hcs? I’ll give ‘em, hehehe😈 Hope you like them!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jin:

Okay, I’m gonna make some of y’all real happy by saying, although I still think he’s mostly switch/sub leaning, he does have a dom streak in him. Like as much as he loves letting you lead him like a puppy on a leash(sometimes literally), nothing quite gets him off the same as taking control and pounding into you until you’re his empty headed baby, only able to whimper is his name.

He’s also a big fan of sensory deprivation, both giving and receiving. Blindfolds, handcuffs, etc. He loves the heightened sensitivity that they create, turning even the lightest touches insanely intense.

Has a major thing for cumming in you that it’s bordering on a breeding kink. Like tell him that you want him to cum in you, and he’ll propose on the spot💍

Yoongi:

He’s definitely into bondage and shibari(he’s been tied up/handcuffed wayy too many times in music videos to not be, lol) tho it would take a bit of coaxing to get him to admit it. There’s just something about trying out different knots and restraint styles, both on him and you, that intrigues and excites him.

Lowkey into angry sex, but not when he’s angry with you. It’s more those days when he comes home frustrated from the studio and he just wants to scream, so he makes it his mission to make you scream instead, hehe.

Has recorded himself getting off for you and thought about sneaking it into the background sounds of one of his Agust D tracks(might have actually done it, but he won’t admit it bc he’s a menace and likes to fuck with your head, so you’re just sat listening to every little detail on his demos, lol)

Hobi:

This boy is a certifiable freak, you cannot convince me otherwise. Like except for a relatively small list of hard no’s, he’s open to playing around and testing out pretty much any sort of kink/scenario that you might be interested in.

Lowkey very into the idea of watching you fuck one of his friends rapline whats up?, guiding them on just how to touch you, watching the way your face scrunches up in pleasure, just to turn around and fuck you into oblivion afterwards.

Man adores having his head between your thighs and actively begs you to ride his face. And don’t even think of arguing that you’re too heavy or whatever, bc he’ll spend the next hour worshiping your body and showering you with so much praise that you won’t be able to think, let alone remember any of your insecurities🫠

Namjoon:

Although we’ve established he’s definitely more of a daddy dom, he definitely has a weakness for you taking the lead or being on top(“pro rider, hohohoho rider” I had to, I'm sorry). Something about him being under you, watching the way your body moves on top of his, feeling the way you take him so perfectly, just makes his brain go hazy🤤

Idk if he’s fully aware that it’s a kink/thing, but he’s definitely into temperature play. Ice cubes, hot wax, even just blowing cool air over his skin makes him tingly in all the right ways. 

He loves to tease you at the worst moments. Like you could be on phone with a friend or whoever, and he’ll let his hands start to ghost along your arms, down your sides, across your chest, between your thighs… seeing just how long it takes before your voice and focus start to waver, quickly hanging up and giving him your full attention

Jimin:

*cough*ropebunny*cough* Sorry, what?

No but fr, he loves being tied up in different pretty styles of shibari, but he treats it like an art form, with different silk ropes and ribbons. He wants to feel pretty and treasured, caressed with soft voices and sweet words, regardless of if you’re teasing and edging him to tears.

Lowkey into semi-public sex, teasing you at dinner with his friends with his hand creeping along your thigh under the table till you’re squirming and begging him to find an excuse for you both to be excused for a minute. Dude will fully have you shaking and seeing stars and then walk out of the bathroom like nothing happened.

Definitely the biggest fan of aftercare out of all the members, like he treats it as more of a sensual spa night for the two of you; candlelit baths together, gentle massages to work out any tense muscles, cuddling in bed that might turn into cockwarming or a very sleepy round two... 

Taehyung:

Definitely into taking photos of the two of you, both on his phone and on his retro film cameras. Man turned his guest room into his own studio/darkroom and learned how to develop film by himself so that no one else but you would see his artwork.

Loses his goddamn mind every time you go down on him. Like if you ever wanna make his mind go completely blank, all you have to do is let him feel your warm, wet mouth close around his length, and he’s absolute putty in your hands.

Feel like he’s very into lingerie, both for you and himself. He loves feeling like a pretty present for you to open and play with, and vice versa. You literally came home on your birthday to him waiting for you in some pretty little silk number with a bow on his head as your gift.

Jungkook:

Although I’ve said before he’s a dom leaning switch, when he subs, he lets go completely. He loves letting his mind shut off and being at your mercy, letting you take control and turning him into a needy whining mess. 

For the similar reason, he has a major dumbifacation kink, both giving and receiving. He loves the idea of being fucked to the point that your mind goes completely blank and all you can think and focus on is how you make each other feel.

Definitely has a thing for somnophilia, again both giving and receiving. The thought of touching and teasing each other, your bodies reacting purely out of instinct, seeing how long it takes for you to wake up so that you can fuck each other properly, the whole thing makes him crazy. His favorite way to wake up, 5 stars, highly recommend🤭

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @universal-travel-er @k4ngelz

[rafeswhre]

orrrr rafe having to deal with a tipsy reader but lowkey being overwhelmed at the whole situation cuz she’s being so lovey dovey and clingy but they’re not dating? 😭

rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol, suggestive comments

a/n: this is my first time posting i’m so scared loll hope you like it, thanks for sending it🫶🏼 btw english isn’t my first language, let me know any mistakes.

“I don’t know, Top!” You laughed loudly while talking to Topper, who, to be honest, wasn’t actually funny. It was probably just the number of drinks you’d already had.

“Girl, you’re tipsy!” Topper laughed at you while sipping from his whiskey glass.

“I’m not.” You rolled your eyes and tried to take another shot—at least, you tried.

“You’re done.” Rafe took the shot from your hand and moved it away from you. By the way, who knows where he had come from; you hadn’t seen him since the party started.

“What do you mean I’m done? I’m just starting.” You gave the guy in front of you a funny look.

“I mean you’re done, princess. Let’s go.” Rafe took your arm and started guiding you through the crowd.

“Baby, you’re soooo boring.” You pouted at him once you arrived in the parking lot.

“Baby?” He raised his eyebrows, looking at you.

“What’s wrong? You call me princess all the damn time, I don’t say shit to ya, big boy.” You rolled your eyes.

“Watch that mouth of yours.” He leaned back against his car.

“Why are you so grumpy all the time?” You slowly got closer to him, resting your hands on his shoulders and giving them a little squeeze.

Rafe looked closely at your hands moving down his arms. “I’m not grumpy all the time.”

“I’m not grumpy all the time.” You imitated him in a funny voice and burst out laughing before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “’Course you are.” You whispered in his ear.

Rafe cleared his throat and looked everywhere but at your eyes. “Come on, let’s get you home.” He tried to escape your little grip.

“I don’t wanna go home, Ray!” You pouted again. “Let’s stay here; we could have so much fun! More fun than we’d have in your car, let me tell ya.”

“Why are you so complicated?” He rolled his eyes.

“Why are you so boring?” You teased him, poking his arms. “Although I can think of ways to have fun in your car too.” You got close to him, giving him a significant look.

“Stop saying stuff like that.” He opened his eyes wide, feeling out of place.

“Are you freaking out, Rafey?” you asked, teasing.

“Don’t call me that.” He frowned.

“Why not? That’s what all your bitches call you.”

“No! Just- just get in the car, kay?” He opened the passenger door so you could get in.

“We adore a gentleman.” You said as you climbed into the car. He closed the door and walked around the car to get into the driver’s seat.

The atmosphere filled with an overwhelming silence; Rafe hadn’t even started the car. You felt a little guilty.

While it was true that you weren’t entirely sober, you weren’t drunk either. You knew what you were doing; it was just that the bit of alcohol had given you the confidence to tell him things you wouldn’t say when fully sober.

“Rafe?” you asked nervously.

“Mmh?” He didn’t even look at you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—I know we’re friends; I didn’t mean to make you feel bad—” Suddenly, you felt like the alcohol in your body had disappeared.

“Hey, hey.” He looked at you. “It’s alright, it’s not that, kay?” He buried his head in his hands.

“So? What is it?” You tilted your head to the side, confused.

He sighed. “You know, all your attitudes and shit.” He waved his hand in the air, trying to make you understand. “You’re getting all touchy and clingy.”

“Oh—” You looked away.

“No, no, hey.” He gently took your face and made you look at him. “Look at me, baby. It’s not a bad thing; it’s alright—it’s just—you’re kinda cold all the time. I’ve never seen you this way, it freaked me out.”

“You’ve never been with a tipsy girl?” You giggled.

“Nah, yeah, I have. I said I’ve never seen you this way. It’s different.” He turned on the car.

“What do you mean? Why would it be?”

He turned on the radio.

“Are you ignoring me, Rafe?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” You frowned.

“Nah, I’m not.” He said while steering with one hand on the wheel.

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

[delulupunk]

How the batboys react to you only speaking in meme references:

Dick Grayson

This is the Robin who used to unironically use turns of phrase while busting crime lords with Batman, so of course he’s going to match your energy. If you say “What the fuck Richard?” He’s just going to reply something even sillier.

“They are my crocs.” He does this in the most deadpan tone and these two memes aren’t even related to one another.

He loves it though and finds the funny way you react to situations similar to his demeanour so you bounce of each other very well. It leads to the pair of you having meme wars- you try and outdo each other in how many memes you can reference.

“Bethany I made BiScUiTs!”

“Look at all those chickens!”

“So no head?”

The pair of you now have inside meme jokes that you say to each other, that earn you weird looks from everyone else when you say them to each other. Mainly because the combinations barely make any sense. However it brings you two closer and sometimes helps break the ice after an argument.

“It’s Wednesday my dudes…”

…

“AHHHHH!”

Jason Todd

Jason isn’t much of a social media person anymore. He tells everyone he finds it jarring and that it’s like peer pressure on steroids. He only uses Pinterest for book recommendations. So you can only reference memes that went viral before his death, at the beginning of your relationship otherwise he just ignores you.

When he does recognise a meme he’ll either roll his eyes or give you an annoyed, yet affectionate smile. Over time though as he notices you making more relevant meme references with your friends, he finds himself getting jealous. Jason wants to experience that with you.

So he pushes aside all his reservations with social media and watches as many meme videos as he can. Eventually he tries incorporating them into your conversations, albeit sheepishly as he’s unsure of himself.

“Brother Eugh?” He’ll state in a reluctant tone and you’ll just laugh and say it right back.

Tim Drake

Tim is far too focused on being a detective to watch memes, instead the way he relaxes is by doing something that still stimulates his brain in a way, so he’s a fan of puzzles.

“You look like the polite cat sometimes.” You told this to him once absentmindedly and he looked at you like you’d grown two heads. He immediately researched it and saw some similarities. You continued the meme reference when you bought him a puzzle of the polite cat for his birthday. It was safe to say he wasn’t that impressed. However he finished it in record time.

Whenever you quote any memes though he gives you a factual answer, “Roadworks mean that construction workers are fixing the road.” In retaliation you begin sending him all the memes you reference and then one day he just starts saying them. At first you’re shocked and he doesn’t do it often, but he’ll have a smug smile on his face every time.

Damian Wayne

Due to Damian’s harsh upbringing from the league of assassins he isn’t well versed in meme culture.

“What is aura? How have I lost -10,000? What was my starting amount?” He takes your meme references too literally, but when you offer to show him some and explain them he accepts. He’ll scoff and tell you he was only doing it to humour you, but in reality he wanted to regain some of his childhood and he felt this would be a good way to do it.

This bitch empty… yeet!

“She could have hit an innocent bystander with that.”

“I think she did Damian.” You play the video back a million times just to see whether or not she had.

He doesn’t ever reference memes back to you or say them in the first instance. Despite this he learns when you’re most likely to quote them and which one it would be. If you choose not to he’ll raise an eyebrow and ask you why you hadn’t. He wants to make sure you haven’t stopped because of him, he likes it he’s just not sure how exactly to show it.

When you do quote memes to him, he’ll have the ghost of a smile on his face. You’ll only see it if you look closely.

[dilf-rot]

Hot Summer - MDNI 18+

TAGS: Wolverine x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, Logan has a knot, idc if wolverines are not a canid species I’m doing my best ok, Femme Reader, Friends to lovers sort of deal, Mentions of rut / heat, maybe a little feral?, also im giving this bitch fangs because he should have them, smut with very little plot, creampie, helping a horny mutant in need, PinV, oral (fem receiving) ((for like 1 moment)), marking / hickeys / scratching, this is literally just smut with minimal plot

WORD COUNT: 2560

A/N: Hey, remember when I asked if you would still love me if I wrote Logan with a knot? Yeah well here it is, may it comfort you in this terrible world <3 

If you enjoy my work consider sending me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/rotwrites  (Not required by any means, writing requests are still free!) 

—------------

The summer at the institute was always a little boring, or even very boring. You were one of the few students who hadn’t made plans and ended up stuck in the mansion, doing mindless tasks and trying to not be bored out of your mind. It was mostly empty, and as you walked the halls, you hardly even noticed the change in atmosphere. It had just been you, Charles, and a few other kids that would pop up every now and then. So, you were rather surprised when you rounded the corner and saw him standing there. 

“Logan,” You call, and he turns to look at you. Your breath catching in your throat as you take in the sight of him, sweaty and a little dirty from whatever he had been doing. “I thought you were out for the summer?”

“Yeah, was. Chuck called me back, gotta fix up some things.” He looks you over, and smiles, the flash of his sharp canines sending flutters right through your stomach. 

“Oh, well it’s good to see you.” You try not to stare, wondering if he has somehow gotten even more alluring in his brief absence. The length of your shorts, and thin fabric of your tank making you feel much more bare now than before. “I’ll let you get back to it,” 

“Thanks, doll. We’ll catch up when I’m done.” Something in his voice feels different, but you try not to focus on it as you head over towards the kitchen. He did look rather good, maybe even more than he usually did. Though you had been trying desperately not to think of him in that way, to preserve one of the few friendships you had built here. But the image of him dripping in sweat, in a dirt stained beater and jeans that were tight in all the right spots. That image would make things harder for sure. The thoughts of his teeth sliding along your neck, his rough hands clinging to your hips. 

You pushed those thoughts down as best as you could and decided you would attempt to read, lounging in the corner of the kitchen, book in hand. Your eyes flicking across the pages, barely absorbing the words, just trying to give yourself a reasonable distraction. You weren’t sure how long you had been doing this before Logan had made his way into the kitchen. 

“Reading?”

“Barely-” you laugh, but are briefly silenced when you look up to see Logan, shirtless. He has his dirty tank in his hand, using it to wipe the sweat from his brow. It wasn’t even that hot out for the season, and yet he was somehow soaked in sweat. You couldn’t imagine the work Charles had him doing to be that strenuous. 

“Oh yeah? Something on your mind?” He loops the fabric of the tank through one of his belt loops and walks over to the fridge. 

“Uh-” You can’t help the way your mind practically goes blank as you watch him. He’s taken a beer from the very back of the fridge and popped the cap off on the edge of the counter, hopefully he hadn’t chipped it or that would be another thing to add to his list of repairs. 

“You want one?” He references the drink in his hand, you nod and stand up from your chair. Whatever book you were reading was quickly forgotten and left on the floor. You stand next to him leaning against the counter as he opens the beer for you and hands it to you. He must’ve bought them and hid them in the back of the fridge whenever he had gotten back to the mansion, cause you couldn’t recall seeing any in there for the past few months. 

As you take the beer from him your fingers brush against his, and as if he had been shocked he flinches. His eyes are dark as he looks down at you. He grits his teeth and tries to regain his composure, but you can tell something is going on. You step closer to him, your hip almost touching him. He leans down towards you, as if he was going to tell you a secret.

You want to turn your face towards his, to swallow him up in a kiss, to beg him to tell you what he was thinking. But as he moves closer to you, you find yourself paralyzed.

“You smell good,” he breathes in, his face inches away from your neck.

“So do you…” You turn your head to avoid his gaze. He smells better than usual. Something about the smell of sunshine, dirt, and whatever sawdust or debris had been falling onto him made you want to reach out and grab him, but before you could, he corners you. Your back against the counter, his hands finding your hips and effortlessly lifting you on top of the counter. He presses himself against you. You're caged in by his large arms, the muscles taut and glistening.

His face against your neck, his teeth almost brushing against your skin. His rough fingers digging into your hips. The fabric of his jeans rubbing up against your thighs, now wet from his sweat and your sudden excitement.

“Logan-” you whine, practically trembling, and he seems to remember himself.

“Sorry, doll.” He steps back and looks you over, a devious glint in his eye. Without another word he is gone from the kitchen. You are unsure of what to do, or what even was happening but eventually follow him.

He has resigned himself to his room, and you can hear him pacing back and forth behind the door. You knock gently and the sounds stop. He opens the door just a crack, he seems even sweatier and disheveled from when he had found you in the kitchen. His eyes piercing and intense, his pupils blown wide, his breath slow and shaky. 

“Logan, are you alright?”

He grunts in response, shaking his head. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He looks you over, and opens the door wider. You step inside and he quickly shuts the door. He looks even wilder than he had in the kitchen, still shirtless, only in his jeans. Which you try not to make note of the very large and obvious bulge in the crotch. His hair is messy and disheveled, you imagine he had been running his hands through it as he was pacing around.

“Logan?” You walk towards him and he makes a strangled sound. “Are you feeling ok?”

When he turns towards you, your heart races and your breath catches in your throat. He looks so pathetic. Rendered down to some poor animalistic creature. He walks slowly towards you, and when he is a mere step away he grabs your hands and pins them up above you, your back pressed against the door. 

“You should go,” He growls into your ear as he brushes his nose against your jaw. “Too dangerous for you to be in here.”

“Why? You’re not gonna hurt me,” You lean into his touch, resting your head against his.

“Might,” He drops your wrists and tries to step away, but you follow. Keeping the gap between you as small as possible. He groans as you run your hands along his arms, trying to be gentle and encouraging so that he may tell you what’s going on. Before you can ask, he takes one of your hands and slides it underneath the waistband of his pants. 

Your eyes widened as you feel the weight and heat of his cock in your hand. You curiously push your hand down more and feel a swollen bulb at the base of it. Oh. 

Oh. 

Now you understood. You had at some points wondered just how animalistic his mutation was, but now you got it. Late summer was a rather common breeding season for a variety of mammals and it seems as if Logan was one of them. 

“Let me help you,” You slide your fingers up the length of him, tracing the prominent vein on the underneath of the shaft.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” He shudders as you wrap your fingers around his cock.

“Why not?” You smile up at him, and you feel him straining to not thrust up into your hand.

“You might regret it.”

“I don’t think so,” you lean up so that your lips are nearly brushing his, and his restrain snaps.

He closes the distance and practically devours you, kissing you rough and desperately. 

It was as if a fire had been reignited within him and he could do nothing to put it out. His hands grasping and clawing at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight against him. His lips leaving frenzied kisses against your jaw and neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin and his tongue soothing the small marks left in their wake.

He lifted you easily, dragging the both of you towards the bed where he tossed you down against the mess of sheets and pillows. His hands running along the curvature of your body, as if removing himself from you would cause him great pain. His face was wild, that of a crazed man who finally had found whatever he had been searching for.

You were utterly breathless and your heart beat rang in your ears loud as could be. He makes quick work of your clothes, tossing them off somewhere, his hands hardly leaving your body for more than a few seconds. He drags himself away from you for just long enough to find himself kneeling in front of you, pulling you down to the edge of the bed, your legs resting on his shoulders, his head between them, looking up towards you with the most pathetically hungry expression you could have ever imagined.

“You’re sure doll?” His voice is strained and rough. 

You nod, your hands finding their way to tangle in his hair to softly encourage him to continue. He growls and presses his lips to your inner thigh, kissing the soft skin and taking the flesh into his mouth to nibble and bite at. Trailing up and down the length of each thigh, relishing in the small whines and moans leaving your mouth as he decorates your delicate skin with marks. Feeling satisfied that you were now his in this moment, he brings his attention to the aching spot between your thighs, dragging his tongue up through your folds to lap and suck upon your clit. The feeling electric and mind numbing. He slides his tongue along your clit in sloppy circular motions, sucking it in gently, generating small whimpers from you. He growls as he hungrily slurps you up, his patience growing thin as he becomes entirely enveloped in your scent. 

He pulls away from you, a small whine leaving your lips as you sit up and rest on your elbows to watch him. He quickly kicks off his pants, and you gasp when you see him. The tip of his cock is red with need and practically dripping. You feel a bit more intimidated now as you stare wide-eyed at the bulb throbbing at the base of his cock. You could only pray that it would fit. 

Logan smirks and hovers over you, caging you in with his large arms. “Having some regrets, princess?”

“No,” you lift your hips up to shamelessly rub yourself against his erection and he groans. One hand moving down your body to roughly grab your hip pushing you down into the mattress. He slides his cock between your wetness, your breath hitching when the head of his cock bumps against your clit. Your arousal coating him, the slick wet noises make your head spin. 

“Please,” You whine. He presses the tip against your entrance and you try to lift your hips closer to him, begging for it to slide inside. Your breath hitching when it finally does. He moves painfully slow, the drag of his cock slowly stretching you out. A sort of burning rising in your stomach as you strain to be closer to him.

“So desperate,” He huffs, wrapping an arm around you and holding you close against him as he bottoms out. Your whines make his heart ache. “I’ve got you princess, I’m right here.”

You claw at his shoulders, his arms, his back, anything you can reach. The knot at the base of his cock pressing into you, you feel like you could break. Heat spreading over your entire body. You can’t get close enough. You want him to devour you. To take what he needs and worry about you later, but he’s being so gentle that it makes your eyes water. 

His pace stays slow, once he feels you relax, he pulls himself back before pressing in again. Slow, deliberate, patient. He watches your face as you try to play tough, acting like you can handle it despite your trembling. When you flutter around him and a broken moan falls from your mouth he falters.

“I don’t think I can be gentle for much longer,” He whispers against your neck, kissing right below your ear.

“So don’t be,” your whimper flips a switch in him. He would have preferred your first time together to be different than this, to be softer and sweeter. To be kinder to you. But when you beg to help him, and try to take him so good, he can’t help himself. 

He barely hesitates before his pace quickens, and the sheer force of his movements is enough to make your brain fuzzy and dumb. The headboard smacking into the wall with every rough movement, the bed frame creaking beneath you. You’d feel bad about all the noise if you were in any position to feel anything other than Logan ruthlessly fucking you. 

His cock stretches you in such a way that each thrust presses against that sweet spot inside you. The knot at the base pressing against your clit. The slap of it sends little waves of pleasure throughout your body. His pace hardly falters, as you grip onto his arms, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, desperately trying to take it. To help him through it. Wanting him to use you and be satiated. 

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he groans as he feels you tighten around him. You tremble and whine, shaking as your orgasm takes over and you can hardly think of anything as his motions begin to falter too. 

He shudders as he pumps into you, his ruthless pace being diminished into small quick thrusts. You groan as you feel the knot slip in, and he cums. You feel so utterly full as more and more cum is spilled into you. So much so that it’s dripping down onto the mattress beneath you. Your eyes rolling back in your head, and you can feel drool leaking from your open mouth. Your body feeling limp, you can hardly manage to keep your eyes open and steady enough to look at Logan. He seems hardly affected. 

“We’re gonna be here a while, Doll. Don’t get tired on me already,” Logan grins, pressing his lips against your neck and you shudder as you feel his sharp canines graze the sensitive skin.

At least the rest of your summer would be far from boring.