#who grows uncomfortable with the thought of being a boy. of being a man like them

[gloomskulls]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚LIMERENCE [tasm!peter parker]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 2

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ For Peter Parker, the deepest secret is not being Spider-Man. It's that he likes you, no he loves you, wants you in any imaginable way possible. After years of quietly admiring you from a distance, everything changes after a biology project that partners you two together. Peter sees a glimpse of chance to get nearer to you, but the line of affection and obsession begins to blur

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ obessive peter, creep peter, stalking, masturbation, panty sniffing, dirty thoughts, breaking in, just peter being hopelessly in love. If any of this finds you uncomfortable, please click out do yourself (and me also) a favor. lemme know if I missed any! MINORS DO NOT READ

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: my first ever fic posted on Tumblr, yippee! This is also my first ever smut so it probs be equivalent to horse poo but anyways, this also takes place in tasm 2. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else i'm gonna turn you into Vicky from Terrifier/srs

Peter didn't understand what was so special about you, you were just a crush. Or that's what he convinced himself. Every single place you were in, Peter would carefully trail behind you, like there was a magnet strapped onto you, and Peter was the metal, he would always find himself drawing next to you. Peter Parker was no stranger to keeping secrets. It was, after all, the epitome of his double life. A mask, a costume, a name that wasn't his at all. There was one secret, however, that even the Spider-Man's mask couldn't cover—his growing infatuation towards you.

It started out really simple. You decided to give back the nerdy boy's pencil in sophomore year and defended him from Flash Thompson in his junior year, it was all simple really, something a person with decency and was taught with proper manners would do. But Peter took it as more than that.

Candid photos here and there, purposefully falling of his skateboard so you would help him, cryptic notes in your locker, sometimes a random flower if Peter was lucky to find any.

Limerence, as some might say

The first people who would ever notice Peter's strange behavior where the people who raised him. Uncle Ben would notice this girl in the screen of his nephew's computer, so did Aunt May when she saw many polaroid photos of the same face underneath Peter's bed. Peter shrugged it off, saying the same exact words to the both of them.

'she's just a crush'

Peter Parker was very good at being hidden in the open. Sure, he didn't want to be invisible, but it is what it is. One of the self-working "losers" with horrible punchlines and pretty much the face screaming "nerd". Well, it didn't bother Peter much. He had many other more important things to think about. You

It's been years now. It was already the last year of senior year, graduation was already nearing, still, he hasn't mustered up the courage to do speak to you, afraid that you won't reciprocate the same feelings he has. His been watching you from a distance, stealing glances in class and making mental notes on all the little things you did, like doodling on the corners of your notebooks or, how you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating. He knew that it was weird, creepy even, but Peter couldn't stop himself.

So, when Mr. Warren announced a paired project for biology, Peter's internal monologue kicked into overdrive.

"Pair work begins today," Mr. Warren said, his smile a gruff overture that still Peter thought unnecessary. "Choose your partners wisely, just choose somebody you will along with. You can really screw up over this project if you don't!"

The room broke out into a low buzz as students shuffled their chairs and moved toward their friends. Peter didn't move. He never did. Choosing a partner was like finding a needle in a haystack type of task for him

Alright, Pete, it is not such a big deal. You are not going to end up with her or anything. Just relax, find someone cool, and—

"Peter!"

Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see you in front of his desk, clutching a notebook to your chest

"By any chance do you have a partner? My friends kind of made their own pairs" you asked, your lips curving into an easy smile.

Peter blinked. His brain short-circuited.

"N-nope. I'm totally solo. Flying solo. A lone wolf. A…"

"Awesome! Then let's team up."

Peter turned to you, his mind racing, he blinked, trying to absorb this. You were choosing him? He nodded frantically; his heart was hammering at a top speed that he was convinced you could hear it

You smiled at him, you fucking smiled at him

For the rest of the class Mr. Warren instructed everyone to plan for the project for the rest of the class. You kept bouncing ideas back and forth, and Peter felt a strange, thrilling sensation of in his heart. You were funny, clever, and surprisingly very easy to communicate with. Every time you laughed at one of his jokes, he felt like he was soaring.

When the bell rang, you packed your things and turned to him. "We should work on this at my place. Tomorrow after school?"

Peter nearly dropped his notebook. "Uh, yeah. Totally. I mean, yes. That works. Perfect. So super normal."

You laughed again. "Cool. Here's my address."

And with that, you scribbled it on a scrap of paper and handed it to him before walking away, leaving Peter frozen in his seat.

That night, Peter was sitting in his room staring at the address. To most people, that was just a little detail, probably not even worth a second thought. But to Peter, it was an invitation, or perhaps a key, even just for a second to get into your life. To know every little thing about you

Unfortunately, though, that's not enough.

He felt his hands shaking as he opened the drawer in his desk to reveal a small trove of hidden treasures; poorly taken pictures of you from a distance, bits of paper that you had thrown away during math class, and a small stash of hair strands that he meticulously collected from your hair comb when you weren't looking

This was love, wasn't it? The desperate consuming desire to be around her, to know everything about you.

And tomorrow, he shall get his chance.

You invited him, but Peter just knew it was really more than what you would ever willingly give.

His love was a web, and you were stepping into it, one delicate thread at a time.

Peter stood outside your house with a crumpled piece of paper clutched in his rather sweaty hand. The address on it was correct, but doubt clouded him. What if she had forgotten about this meeting? What if this was simply a joke? No, she would never do that, he tried to convince himself

Peter Parker was standing at your porch. Each thump of his heart sounded like one of the drums in the music club. He raised his hand to knock, hesitating for a moment. Maybe it was a terrible idea to come here after all; he could fake being sick, sending her an apology while rescheduling. Just then, the door swung open before he even had the chance to run.

"Hey, you found my house, I actually thought you would get lost cause I wrote the wrong color of the rooftop on the note" you said while stepping aside to let him enter.

"I was actually hesitant to knock, because it didn't look like the description" He quietly said. You actually got everything right, I was just being a huge pussy so I didn't come immediately, he thought to himself.

"Come in. I have started working on the diagram."

Peter plasted a grin and forced his legs down inside. "Well, look at you. Overachieving already. I guess I'll just sit back and let you do all the hard work."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, your voice making him feel that the world wasn't so bad after all. "Nice try, Parker. Grab a marker. You're on label duty."

"Come on, we can work in the dining area," you said, leading him across the house.

The dining table was already loaded with supplies, with textbooks scattered everywhere, colored pencils, sheets of poster paper, you name it. You positioned herself and gestured to him to join you.

You fell into a rhythm, your hand sketching the parts of the circulatory system while Peter scrawled out the labels in his neatest handwriting. He cracked jokes every few minutes, drawing out your laughter like a lifeline. It would be so easy to lose himself in the moment, pretend that you both were just two friends hanging out and not a guy hopelessly infatuated with someone who didn't even know half the truth about him.

Both of you had a relatively smooth first hour of working, few questions were asked here and there on the project. Peter kept his answers short, being extra cautious with what to share, but it seemed you did not mind. You sketched diagrams, jotting down notes with an ease that made Peter's hands tremble every time he made an attempt to help.

"So Peter," you suddenly announced after the silence, "why is it that you don't talk very much? At school I mean"

The question staggered him, rendering him blank while the colored pencil just hovered above the page.

Peter jerked up his head and looked surprised. "What do you mean? Talking is what I do. I mean, there's even people begging me to stop."

You smirked but didn't let it down. "I mean really, you're funny but I know nothing about you. What's your thing, Peter Parker?"

He didn't answer immediately but fiddled with the marker. "I'm just… some guy. Pretty boring, honestly. Not much to tell."

Your expression softened, "I don't buy that. You're not boring".

Your words made Peter's chest tighter. He wanted to believe you, yet the voice at the back of his mind reminded how wrong youwere. If you only knew the real him, the guy who had spent countless nights staring at your window, memorizing your every move, you wouldn't be smiling and sitting here before him.

"Hey, don't overthink it. You're cool. Let's just finish this masterpiece, okay?" you said, flicking his arm before he could answer.

Peter smiled forcedly

And when they finished the day's work, you walk him to the door once more, your smile as warm as ever.

"Thanks for coming over," you said. "You're actually a pretty decent partner, Parker."

"Decent?!" Peter gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Don't hold back; tell me how you really feel."

And you laughed, shaking your head. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Peter waved. You waved back at him, as he strolled down the street, but he did not go very far. Instead, he found himself across the street in the same place, hidden under the shadow of the oak tree.

you were in your living room again, curled around a blanket and a pillow as you watched whatever was on your screen, your face glowing softly from the light of the television. Peter leaned against the tree with both hands shoved in his jacket pockets and simply watched.

How long he'd been there, he couldn't tell, but he didn't want to leave. This was the closest he ever felt with you, even if you didn't know he was here.

He knew this was crossing the line, but he couldn't help himself. He found himself sneaking into your house. Now he really felt like a robber trying to intrude a home, expect he wasn't really going to steal anything, or so he thought.

It was late at night, you and your family were already asleep at this point

Peter knew that the right thing to do was to head home. He knew for sure that this crossed a line even he wasn't sure he could come back from. But before he could stop himself, he was moving, slipping across the street and into the shadows of your yard.

His palms were slick with sweat as he scanned the side of the house. The metal trellis leading up to your window wasn't very solid, but it would hold him if he was careful.

He carefully climbed the trellis, not putting too much weight on it. And his heart was pounding as he got to your window, his fingers brushing against the cool glass.

It wasn't locked.

At that moment, his body froze. The rational part of him screamed to stop, to climb back down and pretend this never happened. But then his hand was on the window. And that soft sound of it sliding open seemed to be deafeningly loud in the stillness of the night.

He slipped into his feet and landed silently on the carpeted floor. Your room smelled of lavender and something warm and sweet like vanilla. A little bit of moonlight filtered through the curtains and brightened the room in pale silver.

There she was

You laid curled up in your bed, the blankets pulled up to your shoulders, your face peaceful in sleep. Peter’s breath caught in his throat. You looked so serene, so utterly perfect, that it made his chest ache.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, just watching you. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to feel—satisfaction, maybe, or relief. But all he felt was a strange mix of awe and guilt.

This was wrong.

He knew it.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

He looked around your room, it was full of polaroids of either you or your friends.

He started walking around your room quietly, careful to not wake you up in your slumber, because God knows what will happen if you saw him in your room with all its glory, he couldn't even imagine the disgust on your face.

But one thing caught his eye

Your bathroom was open, and in your bathroom was a basket with what he assumed inside were dirty laundry.

He knew it was disgusting, heck, over the top creep award would probably go to him, but he found himself walking towards the bathroom. It was wrong, but he still did it, he needs to get help, he thought to himself.

One second ago he was walking towards your bathroom, next thing you knew he was rummaging through your dirty laundry, occasionally smelling some of your shirts. He cherished the way your scent overwhelmed his nose, he was in Cloud 9.

While he was rummaging, a little piece of clothing caught his eye. With shaky hands he picked up the piece of clothing, it was your pink underwear with little cherries scattered everywhere as design.

He brought it near to his nose. He suddenly sat down in the neat cold tiles of the bathroom floor, he smelt it as if it was his oxygen.

He let out a small moan. He didn't know if it was an invisible force making him do such things, but he found his hands unbuttoning his pants

Peter Parker sat in the rest room; hand clasped tight around the lacy edge of the pink panty. He took out his hardened length of his boxers. The scent of dirty panties wafted his nose.

He imagined you wrapped around his throbbing cock, he thought of the feeling of your tight little pussy riding his cock, he wanted the sweet nectar from your lips, while having a feast on your quivering hole. His cock throbbed in his palms, his hands were much faster now, stroking his hardened cock. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from moaning

Why was he doing this? You were literally there, outside the bathroom, sleeping. And Peter was here, out in the open, jerking off to the smell of your used panties

He was drenched in sweat as his hairs stuck to his wet forehead. He fantasized about your perky tits; perfect little nipples erect in anticipation. Pumping the shaft rapidly, imagining you on all fours begging for more, the bounce of your tits while riding him moaning his name like a mantra, Peter, fuck Peter, Peter, oh my God!

Peter was breathing heavily, his release was near, he profusely pumped his manhood, his hands and cock covered in his sticky pre-cum.

He wanted to feel you inside him, want you to quiver in pleasure as he fucks you over and over again.

He felt a sudden wave of pleasure hitting him, before he knew it, he released a flooded torrent of jizz into sticky cum as it scattered all over the floor. He slumped against the wall, heaving as he tried to steady his racing heart. He looked outside the door, finding you in the same spot as you were. You were sleeping oh so peacefully

He gazed at you, his heart full of unfulfilled yearning. He desperately wanted to be part of your world, to be someone you chose to let in. Yet no matter how many jokes he made or how close you seemed; he knew deep in his heart that he was not enough.

A soft sound broke the silence.

Peter's eyes snap to the bed, and his stomach lurch at the realization that you were stirring. Your brows knitted, your breathing started shifting, just as if you were going to wake up.

He immediately threw your panties back into the basket as he stood up and fixed his underwear and pants

He felt panic surging him, he immediately sprinted near the window. It made a loud a thud, now he was fucked

He moved quickly and quietly without thinking as he quietly ran towards the window. Just as you were about to opene your eyes, he slipped stealthily past the fluttering of curtains.

He tried scrambling down the trellis and found the ground, shivering and shaking as he did so.

He was hidden in a shadow corner, looking up towards your window. You were sitting up now, rubbing your eyes and looking around your room with a sleepy confusion.

Peter's chest tightened.

What's the matter with him?

He hurried as he turned away, his footsteps quiet against the pavement

The cool night air wrapped around Peter Parker like a cold, suffocating blanket as he walked back toward his house. Each step seemed to slant further and further as if his sneakers were scuffing wet against the cracked pavement in a slow and deliberate rhythm.

It was as if the world had gone still—entirely quiet. No cars were heard, no distant chatter, no hum of the city. Just Peter, the quiet whistle of wind through leaves, and the pounding thuds of his thoughts.

With that, he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, his fingers curling into tight fists. Replaying the scene, he heard the soft sound of your breathing, the warmth of your room, and the way you stirred in your bed as if you had felt him there.

What the heck are you doing, Parker? He hadn't intended to climb into your room. He hadn't intended for it to get this far. Watching from the shadows was one thing, but tonight… tonight he had crossed a line.

He stopped moving and leaned against the lamppost, his breath escaping him in short, sharp gasps. Above him, the light flickered, shining unevenly across his shadow on the ground.

"This isn't me," he whispered to himself, the voice trembling.

But wasn't it?

Hadn't he been staring at you for years, taking notes while you weren't looking, memorizing all of your movements, laughter, and smiles? He had told himself that it was just harmless admiration from a distance, but now it was clear.

What would you think if you knew?

He sighed, Peter threw back his head and gazed up at the sky. Above him the stars, though cold and distant, seemed on to him— judging him in silence.

With the words of Uncle Ben echoing in his mind, With great power comes great responsibility, Peter winced.

Peter's jaw clamped down. Not great power; not yet. But wasn't all this part of it? Taking responsibility for his actions, owning up to his mistakes before they spiraled uncontrollably out of hand?

It hit him like a gut punch.

He wouldn't ever be able to take it back. Nor would he ever be able to wipe away the fact that he'd violated your space, your privacy, in a way you might never forgive. But he could stop it from going any further. He could ensure that you never found out.

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny Fenton is Chip Skylark

Normally, I don't like doing multiple crossovers. I prefer to stick to just DC and DP. That being said, I have always loved the HC that Danny Fenton grows up to be Chip Skylark because it is the same creator and art style, so this is going to be an exception.

Bruce never understood the way people became obsessed with celebrities. He never experienced the whole "crush on the celebrity" or the urge to follow whatever scandal a celebrity was involved in (as long as no crime was committed).

If he liked an actor, it was because their moves and TV shows were good. Their acting had a range of roles that were well done. If he followed a singer or a band, it was because their music was something he enjoyed listening to. If he had a favorite sports player, they were terrific athletes who won competitions.

It was never because he thought them attractive or that he was burning with the need to know who they were dating. He didn't need to see every detail of their lives because he honestly didn't care if this singer was seen buying donuts on a random Saturday with an unknown man or if an athlete was seen buying from a discount bin.

It always made him uncomfortable how fans thought they had a right to a celebrities time. Running up and demanding autographs, taking videos or photos without consent and the worst of all, sending death threats to anyone they believe was stealing thier celebrity away.

He often heard people say that famous people knew what happened when you became famous, but that just sounded like an excuse not to treat another human being like a human being���at least to him.

The whole "they belong to the public now" was just....ugh.

Alfred was the same way. He got excited to meet someone famous from the theater but wasn't one to watch talk shows and sandals. Wasn't one to pin posters to walls or get offended when someone famous acted like a normal person.

Then Dick came to live at the manor, and although it confused him, Bruce let Dick get excited over a celebrity singer. Bought all the posters, signed CDs, met and greets, front row seats, and backstage passes if it made Dick happy.

Jason was the same with Broadway stars, gasping and babbling whenever someone he adored appeared on TV. Tim nearly fainted when he met that one famous skateboarder, framing the used napkin he had the man sign.

Steph adored that one Boxer, constantly babbling fun facts about the man that had nothing to do with boxing. Why would Bruce care what elementary school he went to? But he listened anyway.

Cass had dancers she went star-eyed for. There was that phase where she styled her hair the same way as her idol from Paris Oprea Ballet despite the fact that the style was only during nonperforming hours. Bruce had to special order the endorsed hair bands with a blue star of said Dancer.

Duke had an actor whom he never missed a single moive or show for. Even if the TV show she stared in flop from the terrible writing, the boy forced himself to sit through every minute if only because she appeared. He had a collection of DVDs long before moving in with Bruce and when Bruce took him to a special release night of her latest work, Duke had actually bursted into tears when they played her thank you for watching viedo before the movie started.

Really. Caring so much about people they didn't even know made no sense. He would understand if it was a fictional character, like the Grey Ghost because the character is and was just what that particular media presented. But real people? It was a real head-scratcher.

He assumed Damian would be the same as him. After all, Bruce knew his father, and his father's father had the same view of celebrities.

He was wrong.

"It's Chip Skylar!" His son screams at the top of his lungs when Danny's picture appears on the screen. His old college friend had contacted him asking if it was possible to have some special protection at his next concert.

Apparently, at the last one, he was kidnapped by some crazy fan and held hostage with a kid she babysat.

Seeing as Bruce and Danny often collaborated on tech for Batman (Before Danny got his big singing break, he was one of Gotham U's top engineering majors), Bruce saw no reason not to step in and offer help, especially if it turned out his kidnapping was due to magic, like Danny suspected.

He may not run around as Phantom anymore, but Danny had seen his fair share of magic users and magical creatures. That was the only explanation for how a tree had just appeared in the middle of the road and caused him to crash right in front of her house. She wasn't the cause of the magic, that much he was able to figure out when she chained him up, but it made Danny uneasy.

He was worried that the magic users would try again, and much like Superman, he had little to no defense against it.

"We're going to guard Chip Skylar!? " Damian hyperventilates, practically vibrating in his seat from excitement. "I get to meet Chip Skylar!?"

"You're a fan of his?" Bruce asks, slightly surprised, only to notice the same excitement on his children's faces.

"Ugh, duh. He's only like one of the most talented artists ever!" Steph gasped, pressing her hands over her mouth. "He once stopped to let a black cat, and every animal shelter in the state had their black cats adopted within a week!"

"I started flossing more regularly because of his Shinny Teeth song," Duke admits. "I couldn't get enough of that commercial."

Dick pulled out his phone, tapping rapidly. "I got to tell Wally. He will be so jealous I get to guard Chip Skylark!"

Bruce stared at all of them, wondering how even Jason and Cass seemed to be losing their minds over the same guy he once caught trying to drink three gallons of milk because, and he quotes, "It makes my bones go brrrrrrr"

"Danny is an amazing singer but-"

"Danny?" Tim snaps his eyes towards Bruce so fast, it took every ounce of his training not to flinch."How do you know Chip Skylark's birth name? Only the most dedicated fans know his non-stage name."

Bruce shrugs. "You all know how I feel about famous people. I'm not that dedicated of a fan but I happen to be friends with Danny. I can ask him to met you if you want-"

"YOU PERSONALLY KNOW CHIP SKYLARK, AND YOU DARED TO GIFT ME ART SUPPLIES FOR MY BIRTHDAY!? FATHER HOW COULD YOU!" Damian screeched, slamming his hands on the conference table as his siblings broke into an uproar.

Bruce honestly can never understand this.

[emeritusemeritus]

Breed like Gnomes [Fred Weasley]

Title: Breed like Gnomes.

Pairing: PregnantWife!Reader x Fred Weasley

Timeline: Set after Canon (Fred lives!)

Summary: At Ginny and Harry’s wedding, you find yourself facing Aunt Muriel’s unpleasantness, so Fred decides to have some fun.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, babies, sexual references.

Word count: 1.2k

June 4th 2003, a joyful and long awaited day for all in attendance. The marriage of Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley. It was a family affair, both in blood and bond, the entire venue packed with loved ones sharing in the happiness of the newlyweds.

Being Ginny's long standing friend and now sister-in-law, you were naturally made a bridesmaid along with six others who proudly stood by Ginny's side as she said her vows. It was beautiful, joyous and utterly heartwarming to see them unite and be declared husband in wife in front of the many people attending. The couple had initially wanted a much smaller affair than what had transpired but in the end, they were too deeply cared for by so many and the numbers were ever increasing, only made worse by Molly's excitement and welcoming nature.

It had been a truly magical day; getting to support your new sister in law, to see your daughter throw wild flowers down the aisle and most of all getting to check out your husband in his tux as he sat beaming beside his twin brother in the front row, holding back a tear at seeing his little sister suddenly looking so grown up.

"You alright sweetheart?" Fred asks worriedly as you lower yourself gently into your assigned seat inside the bustling marquee. It was getting late now, the party stretching into the night as people danced merrily around you.

You were exhausted from the day, the early morning, the usual nuptial stresses and from the shoes that were growing increasingly uncomfortable around your slightly swollen ankles.

You simply smiled warmly at Fred with a little nod, leaning into his touch when he placed his arm behind you on your chair, his fingers fidgeting with the strands of hair that had fallen down your back.

You both turned your heads in the direction of delighted squeals and watched as your children danced around, chasing each other and their many cousins with beaming smiles on their faces. Their nice outfits were quite frankly ditched at this point and they'd eaten more cake than you cared to admit throughout the day but as you looked at the three happy faces on the dance floor, you couldn't care less. Their uncle George took turns spinning and twirling them and you couldn't help but watch in devotion at seeing your oldest dancing with your brother in law, no doubt standing on his feet as he glided her around whilst the twins ran in circles around the dancing pair.

You let out a little surprise gasp when you felt a sharp kick to your side, just underneath your rib.

"I thought you were asleep," you say quietly with a loving smile as your hand drifts down to your blooming bump, gently rubbing over the spot where you'd felt a little prod.

"Letting you know he's there?" Fred asks with a smirk, noticing your movements. He moved closer and places his large hand over yours, wanting to feel for himself the little kicks that had you smiling at your bump.

"He?" You question sarcastically, with a slight raise of your eyebrow.

"Fathers intuition," Fred smirks with a slight shrug, "never been wrong yet."

"You didn't know there were two last time," you countered teasingly, nodding your head towards the two litttle boys causing havoc on the dance floor. He lets out a boyish chuckle and for a moment you both catch each other's eyes, both twinkling in delight and bound with love. You'd been married for nearly five years, together for much longer but it still took your breath away how much you loved this man, and how much he loved you in return.

"Good heavens!"

The nice moment passed as soon as the loud, screechy voice sounded out on the next table, forcing you apart. You jumped slightly at the unexpected noise before realising that Fred's great aunt Muriel had taken up a seat at the table beside yours and as usual her presence was unwanted. Her voice went through you, like nails on a chalkboard. The high tone and the derogatory, unpleasant undertone to her words, accompanied by the constant hateful look on her face were enough to cement a negative association in your mind. Both you and Fred deflated a little at her presence, with Fred letting out an audible sigh that you felt in your soul. Even your baby let out a sharp kick as if to announce their own displeasure at the sound of her voice.

"Yes aunt Muriel?" Fred says in the most monotone voice he can muster, not even attempting to hide the dismay in his voice, or his face.

"Godric," she mumbles under her breath, casting her eyes between the two of you, focusing her beady eyes on your bump, and where your children were currently hanging off George like monkeys in a tree. "You breed like gnomes!"

You hope your face doesn't show the depth of your exasperation at her words but you doubted your ability to keep a straight face. Fred, of course, finds it hilarious and can't keep the smile off of his face. You can feel his shoulders moving up and down with silent laughter but he manages to contain it and simply clears his throat to hide the laughter.

"Have either of you considered simply reading of an evening? Instead of what I assume are your usual activities?" She says with a bitter tone, face downturned into her usual grimace.

Fred snorts at her words and though you feel slightly offended by her accusation, just as you always did by her comments, you can't help but chuckle yourself at the strangeness of the situation. Was she really commenting on your sex life?

"Onto your fourth already! And only 25! You’re worse than your mother, all of you breed like Gnomes."

"You see I've never been one for reading, but I tried," Fred replies coyly. From his tone of voice you can tell that he's teasing, about to prod the bear. "But it only gave me more ideas. What was is called sweetheart? Some muggle book... Kama sutra! Eroticism for begginers. Let me tell you, it's changed my life! Couldn't put it down... or her," he says, nodding his head towards you with a wicked smile on his face as his hand snakes around to cradle your bump once again.

You can't hide your smile this time as Muriel lets out a disgusted squark and turns away with a deeper grimace than before. You turn your head and snuggle into Fred's shoulder to hide your laughter whilst he openly chuckles to himself, head thrown back slightly in glee.

"You're terrible," you mutter with a smirk, pulling yourself away from the soft fabric of his shirt where it stretches over his muscled shoulders. His smile is wide and wicked as he takes in your words, hearing nothing but compliments.

"Hilarious is a better word," he quips, eyes shining in delight.

"Incorrigible."

"Completely irreformable," he agrees without a single care. "But I think you like me like this."

You look up from under your lashes at him, matching the look in his sparkling eyes and can't help but agree.

Taglist part 1 ♡

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[confessioncassette]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐍𝐚𝐦-𝐆𝐲𝐮 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝟏𝟖+. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

summary : getting high leads to dirty, dirty things

tw : getting high, smoking, dry humping, minimal fingering, this may be dubious consent [DUBCON] due to being under the influence and the boys have been waiting for a chance with you, very small yandere themes if you SQUINT

words : 1.7k

notes : I’ve been unhinged lately. Feral. Horny. I want to be stuck between two men. I was too lazy to write a full fic or many details of this concept… AND it’s not proofread. It’s honestly not my best work… sorry…. but I still hope you enjoy!

Thinking about…

“Well, no,” You squirm over your heels, “I’ve never actually been high.”

The duo looks back at you utterly perplexed. Before Namgyu opens his mouth to question, you continue.

”I just don’t think I did it right the first time. It was out of a soda can,” Your gesture with your hands but your excuse didn’t change their glare, if anything, their eyebrows furrowed into confusion.

“And I don’t think I inhaled all the way.” You paused for a moment, eyes darting back at the two who were giving you judgmental looks, “I only took one hit.”

The air is plagued with an uncomfortably long moment of silence before Namgyu stifles a laugh and hugs his arms across his chest.

“So, what? Last time you smoked was in high school? No one has used soda cans-“

”Shut up Namgyu,” Thanos slaps his friend over his chest with a muffle thump.

“You want to try it tonight?” The purple haired man continues, his blue colored contacts scan your face in anticipation.

And that's when you find yourself sitting rigid on the end of the couch, curiously watching Thanos roll a blunt over his glass coffee table. Oldschool R&B plays low over the speaker and the glow of purple LED lights create a soft contrast to the night sky through the large windows.

His pink tongue carefully licks the paper, eyes finding yours as he does, offering a wink before slender fingers slide over the edges. Namgyu lounges over the fur rug below you, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

“I always have to roll because he can’t. You should see how fucked his shit comes out.”

“Shut the fuck up, T,” Namgyu retaliates, “I like when you do it because it’s not as tight.”

The other man ignores his friend and directs his attention solely to you.

“Okay, pretty girl,” Thanos flicks the lighter, bringing the blunt to his lips. Namgyu looks up from his phone, brows raised as he watches his friend.

”Watch me.” Thanos says, voice low with bass, before inhaling the joint, the tip growing brighter as he does. Once done, he passes the joint to Namgyu and sucks the smoke in deeper.

You squirm, rubbing your sweaty fingers together over your lap. You watch Namgyu sit up to take a hit, blowing a cloud of smoke to the side. His eyes meet yours, extending his hand to offer you a hit.

You hesitate, and they notice.

”You don’t have to-“ Namgyu begins but you cut him off.

“No, no, I want to try.”

You take the joint to your lips and suck in slowly, attempting to copy what Thanos had done. The musky taste fills your senses, warm and itchy, tickling the back of your throat almost immediately. You tried, like really tried, to keep it in but your body reacts without a second thought and you cough uncontrollably. Squeezing your eyes shut, you lean forward, hacking up a lung. Puffs of smoke leave your mouth with each cough and tears swell almost immediately.

Namgyu reacts almost instantly, sliding onto the couch next to you to pat your back.

”Yeah, it burns like shit when you’re not used to it.”

Moments pass and you catch your breath. Your eyelashes sticky from tears, most likely messing up your mascara in the process you look over to Thanos, who carries a slack smile. You didn’t even notice the quick look he shared with his friend.

“Don’t worry, baby girl, first time is always rough.”

“Do you want to try again? I doubt you inhaled anything with that.” Namgyu offers.

You suck in a breath, cringing at the man beside you, but he gently takes the joint from your fingers, his touch lingering a moment.

”Trust me, it won’t hurt as bad this time.” He gives you a sheepish smile.

”There’s nothing to worry about, baby. You’re safe, we got you if anything happens.” The purple haired man reassures you.

You nod, adjusting your frame to face Namgyu completely. You wanted to try this after all. It’ll probably be your only chance to try it anyway. You gotta live, you know?

Namgyu brings the paper to his lips, sucking in deeply while his eyes never leave yours. His intense stare ignites a flame deep within your belly, and before you know it, his palm slides over your knee. The warmth of his flesh simmers over your skin, his pinky toying with the hem of your dress before leaning close. His other hand comes up to gently caress your jaw, tilting your face up to him.

His scent has you surrounded and you’re incapable of moving. His intense stare drawing close and the wafts of swirling smoke and cologne filling your nostrils paralyzes you. For what felt like forever and a second all at once, his nose grazes your cheek, bringing you back into reality.

“Open, baby,” Thanos murmurs from across the table.

Opening your mouth for him, Namgyus soft lips graze yours and begins pushing the smoke inside. This time, the smoke felt smooth, hydrated and warm.

”Breathe in.” Thanos guides again.

You inhale slowly with every push he gave until there was nothing left. Once done, he lingered close to watch your every move. You felt his breath tickle your cheek, hot and intoxicating. Looking up at him through thick lashes, his gaze was already upon you, eyes swimming dark with desire. Losing yourself in the moment, heartbeat thumping between your ears, you almost didn’t notice that the couch dipped behind you.

“My turn.”

Thanos’s arm slithers around your shoulder to grab the blunt from the other man, once again snapping back to reality and releasing your hypnosis from Namgyu. His chest presses firmly against your back, his different scent wafts up to your nose, filling your scenes with clean shampoo, cigarettes and an airier cologne. The paper crackles when he takes a hit, incredibly close behind to your face before you feel his fingers sliding up the front of your neck. With his palm flat over your trachea and fingers splayed along your jaw, he adds pressure in turning your head into his lips.

Thanos’s lips were hungrier than the other, confidently latching onto you, pushing the smoke inside your mouth with his tongue. You take him fully, inhaling every last bit of smoke he gives. His lips were sweeter than Namgyus. Traces of candy burst your tastebuds.

The palm that caresses your neck slides up to your jaw, the pads of his fingers pet against your flesh, sending wavelengths of chills down your spine.

Once he was finished, he pulled away only a mere centimeter to allow you to exhale.

The duo continued this for another round, guiding your face back and forth between the two of them. Each time their lips lingered longer and longer, hungry to devour you whole. Like they were waiting for you to make the first move, or waiting to see who of the two would begin the downfall. It was only a matter of time that you felt the side effects creeping through your veins, viciously spreading throughout your body. It was gradual at first, until it hit you head on like a door being opened in a hurricane. Your skin prickled and crawled, while your mind grew hazy and light. Their faces became one, meshed together in a vision.

You began to giggle.

“There’s our girl,” Namgyu’s knuckles graze over your chin, his other hand creeping up your thigh, palming at your muscle.

”Feels good, yeah?” Thanos lets you lean back into his chest, his arms slung over your waist. The joint lays forgotten in the ashtray, but the musky scent lingers heavily.

You giggle and nod in response.

“I’ve never felt like this before! I feel… feel…” you nuzzle yourself against Thanos, “so relaxed.”

”Hey,” the mans chest behinds you vibrates, lulling you deeper into your high. You want him to do it again-

“Keep talking it feels good,” you mumble.

”Baby, you know what would feel even better?”

You hum, drifting, drifting… Namgyus kneading over your thigh feels too good.

“Sit up for me.” Thanos says lowly, but you remain, completely entranced by Namgyu’s ministrations.

Thanos shot his friend a look, stopping him from teasing you. You protest when his warm palm leaves your skin, only to be replaced by thick arms hooking under your pits to lift you up.

”Here we go, sweet girl, up,” Namgyu says softly before placing a chaste kiss under your ear and turning you around over Thanos.

You adjust to your newfound position, straddling the purple haired man. You open your eyes to find his face close to yours underneath you.

“Su-bong, I feel great.” You smile sweetly, tilting your head to observe him in the purple ambience. He looks so beautiful.

Blue eyes swimming with an emotion you can’t decipher scan over your face before he pulled up into a deep kiss. Large hands tug your hair and pull you impossibly deeper, and for a moment you feel like you might suffocate. It was voracious and wet, his tongue slipped past your lips instantly to taste you fully. He rumbled, a groan that came deep from his chest awakened all your senses.

Your core rested fully now over something hard and warm.

Thanos breathed into your kiss, devouring your lips like he was a man starved. His hips bucked up into you, igniting the fire between your legs. Your body erupts in a hazy desire grinding back into him, letting a sweet moan fall past your lips.

Rocking back into his thrusts, Thano’s breath becomes ragged and the hands that pull you close search your body, running over every curve like he was carefully studying you. Your mind’s completely drifting into this ecstasy so much so that you completely ignore the feeling of Namgyu flipping up your dress to expose your ass.

The other man sits up and kneels before the two of you to palm his cock over his sweatpants.

“Wish you could see the way her ass bounces from back here, oh my god.” Namgyu groans.

This earns a growl from Thanos before his exploring hands move south to grip your ass, spreading you open. Namgyu could almost cry at seeing the wet spot on your panties now spread in full view for him.

Your cunt drags along Thano’s thick shaft as he dry humps up into you. Your body rocks roughly over his between wet kisses. Your mind spins, your body completely limp in his grasp, his blunt fingernails dig into your flesh like he’s afraid to lose you.

Namgyu leans forward a slender finger to trace along your wet core over your panties, the other hand palming himself a little more roughly.

“She’s so fucking wet, T, look.” Pulling your panties to the side, you jump at the sudden intrusion of his finger.

“It’s okay, pretty girl, just want him to taste you.” Slowly, Namgyu scoops up your slick to rub between his fingers. You’re sweet and sticky like honey, and he admires the sight. He allows himself to play with the juices between his fingers, watching sticky strings expand and droop before his friend growls - a warning to hurry up. At that, he leans forward to present the sight to his friend.

When Thanos breaks the kiss, you groan, hanging your head in the crook of his neck. You inhale his sweet cologne mixed with sweat, drifting once again in pure bliss. Your core aches for release now, so you mindlessness hump and hump when Thanos turns his head to taste his friend’s fingers, moaning before he does just at the sight of your slick.

“Holy shit, you’re so sweet.” He groans.

”Let’s bring her to the bedroom, yeah? The couch is too small for this.”

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 3

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

The shadows unceremoniously dumped a whole stack of Sellyn Drake Novels on Azriel’s desk.

Azriel eyed the stack of novels dubiously, wondering how in the Mother's blessed name the Shadows had gotten their hands on these. Or why.

But they stayed silent, clearly waiting for him to outright demand an answer. *Why?* he asked with a long suffering sigh. *What's this about?*

No response.

Azriel reached for one of the books, pulling it off the top of the stack and flipping it over. And immediately he regretted that decision. The cover was…certainly something.

A shirtless man holding a rather skimpily dressed woman up against a wall. 

Azriel let out a long, long sigh.

*You need to read the books, Master,* the shadows told him seriously.

Azriel stared at his shadows, then at the books, then at his shadows. *You cannot possibly be serious.* What exactly was this supposed to give him? 

He flipped it over, reading the synopsis. 

When Lady Eleanor is forced into an unwanted marriage, she despairs—until the enigmatic Sir Tristan, a battle-scarred knight with a fearsome reputation, crashes into her life. Bound by a promise to protect her, Tristan whisks Eleanor away from her gilded prison, thrusting them into a wild escape across enemy lands.

Haunted by his past and wary of love, Tristan tries to keep Eleanor at arm's length. But as they face danger together, a fierce passion grows between them, tempting them to trust in a love that could heal even the deepest wounds.

What the fuck. 

*We are, Master.* The Shadows told him, sounding as earnest as they possibly could.

He opened the book. Titled The Dark Knight’s Desire, flicking through the pages. Was this…a first edition?

*It’s important!* The shadows insisted. *You know…to brush up on these flirting skills of yours.*

Azriel shot the shadows an unamused look. *I can flirt perfectly well,* he protested.

*You most certainly cannot.* The Shadows deadpanned. *It’s research! Read them for her!*

*Read them for…* Azriel started, his voice trailing off.

*You found...* he trailed off weakly. They had found a female for him?

The shadows swirled around him almost playfully. *Of course we did,* they said innocently. *We told you we would, didn’t we?*

They were working quickly. It had only been weeks since he had agreed to let them find him a wife.

*You did,* Azriel said slowly, but his mind was working fast, so fast, trying to wrap around the idea that his Shadows were trying to help him find a wife…and more importantly, that they had found a female they thought he would find suitable.

*Where did you find her?* he asked, carefully.

*Here in Velaris!* the shadows answered brightly.

*Here?* Azriel asked, his surprise obvious. The shadows had found...a female...here in Velaris? Someone who was compatible with him? And they wanted him to read...what were these again? Sellyn Drake novels? So he would know how to best romance this female?

*Read the books, Master,* the shadows said with a sigh. So he did.

And that was how Azriel spent his next few hours. Reading a book, and blushing like some sort of adolescent boy when certain…particularly intimate scenes came around. The Shadows cackled beside him the entire time.

How the fuck did Nesta do this with a straight face?!?

Azriel had no idea, but by the Mother, he was never going to ask her. Ever. He would just die of embarrassment.

Though he needed to admit...he actually quite liked it.

The novels, that is. The…intimate scenes. Azriel liked them. A lot. Not even the...smut, like Nesta called it...no, he liked the love story. He liked the two people that came together and would do everything for each other...the falling in love part. He liked that.

But the Shadows were probably never going to let him live this down. Azriel did find comfort in a single thought, though. Whoever this possible future partner was, she was never going to know about this. There was no way in hell he would let her find out that he read smutty books to brush up his flirting skills.

But even that did not stop the nagging thought in Azriel's head, one that made him hesitate, and doubt himself, and doubt the Shadows' judgment. "What if..." he said softly, hesitantly. "What if she just...doesn't like me?"

He knew he had some...rough edges, to put it kindly. And he had his own...troubles. His own...insecurities. Some of the things he kept to himself, so many of his...issues. The shadows knew of them all, of course…There were many nights they stayed up with him, soothing him when the ghosts in his mind became a little too loud, a little too real.

What if that scared her? He didn't want her to be scared. He didn't want to scare her.

*She'll like you, Master.* The Shadows assured him, wrapping themselves around him comfortingly and soothingly. *She’ll love you.*

He exhaled. *Can you read minds now?*

*Only yours,* the Shadows assured him. *But as long as you don't cheat on her with her sister, you'll be doing a better job than her ex-partners!*

What. 

"Are you seriously reading a Sellyn Drake novel?" Only 5 centuries of training kept him from flinching as he looked up to find Cassian in his doorway.

"Nesta said it was good," he shot back flatly, not hiding the book, because that would just give Cassian even more reason to tease him. 

"You...actually listen to Nesta's...book recommendations?" Cassian stared at him, as if he had grown a third head.

"She is intelligent, and she reads more than either of us," Azriel shot back, sharply. "So yes, if she says it's good, I'll try it."

Cassian gave a slight shake of his head, not believing what he was hearing. "You are…actually reading a Sellyn Drake novel?" He repeated as if he couldn't quite believe that Azriel was actually doing that.

"Yes," Azriel said, his words clipped. "You have a problem with that?"

Cassian just stared at him for a long moment before letting out a quiet laugh. "No, I just never thought I would actually see the day that you read a Sellyn Drake novel."

"Well, I like it," Azriel said evenly. "It’s very are well written."

"And smutty," Cassian said with a grin.

Azriel rolled his eyes. "It’s are more than just...smut, Cassian, It actually has a story, and good characters."

"Characters who can barely keep their hands off each other long enough to solve the mystery, you mean," Cassian drawled, but Azriel ignored him, flipping a page. 

."Have you ever actually read a Sellyn Drake novel, Cassian?" Azriel asked, shooting him a look. "Or do you simply judge by the covers?"

Cassian just grinned, clearly enjoying this conversation and how defensive Azriel had become. "The covers are pretty damn attractive though."

Azriel rolled his eyes at that comment, but didn't respond. Just looked back down at the book, completely ignoring his brother.

"Are you coming to dinner tonight?" Cassian asked him instead. 

"No," he answered flatly. He did really want to know how the book ended.

*We found a house! We can show it to you!* the shadows hissed at that moment. Huh.

"There is something that needs my attention," Azriel said simply.

Cassian gave him a searching look, a frown etched into his face, but Azriel simple met his gaze. 

"Az," Cassian said quietly. "Come on."

"I have something I need to do, Cassian." Azriel's voice was still flat, but more firm, a clear sign that he did not want any arguments.

"Az," Cassian said again, and this time, there was a small thread of pleading in his voice. "Just… come have dinner with us. Please. It'll be good for you."

Good? Good to sit at Rhys' table and be told to "behave"? Azriel would rather eat crushed glass than do that. Which was the reasons why he skipped out of them as often as he possible could.

He knew, he knew that Cassian was just looking out for him, but that didn't mean that he felt like he was obligated to go.

"I have something I need to do," he repeated, his voice even.

Cassian sighed. "You are so goddamn stubborn," he muttered, but he let the subject drop, clearly knowing that Azriel was not going to listen.

That evening, instead of sitting through that dinner, Azriel let the shadows swirl around him in excitement, tugging on his jacket, practically dragging him forward.

*It's a lovely house, Master!* they said as they wrapped him in their embrace.

He blinked twice as he rematerialised in front of a lake. Somehow not quite what he had expected. But then…then he saw the house.

Grey stone and wood and the biggest windows he had ever seen that promised an breathtaking view over the lake… and nobody around as far as he could see. He stared at the house, a brow raised. It was nice…very nice. A little too nice. Exactly too his taste.

Azriel turned towards the shadows as he raised another brow. *And how exactly did you…* he started with a huff. *You know what, nevermind.*

He could already hear the shadows saying that they asked for a favor in exchange. Or maybe they stole it.

The house was still nice though, perfect really. He just…didn't want to know what they had done to get it.

Azriel glanced towards the building again. He could almost picture himself in the space, walking around, just….simply existing. It was peaceful and quiet…and he would not be…disturbed or bothered.

He could see himself reading in front of the fireplace, looking out into the night sky through the large windows. 

Azriel walked towards the building, his fingers brushing over the wall. He could feel it already….he could already feel his muscles loosening, his shoulders lowering from their stiff position.

Home, he thought as stepped into the space, the shadows following after him as his lips tugged upwards.

Yes, he could already see himself calling it that. Home. He liked the ring of it. 

*You're welcome, Master,* the shadows said as they swirled around him, nuzzling him affectionately. They were happy for him, so very happy for him.

The living room was spacious, filled with  overstuffed couches and armchairs made for wings… the view indeed was spectacular. And one long uninterrupted wall was lined with tall, massive bookshelves.

It was perfect.

*Does she like books?* he couldn't help but ask.

*Yes, Master! She loves books!* The Shadows assured him in an excited chorus.

She liked to read. That was the first little tidbit of information he learned about her.

*Will you tell me something else about her?* he asked them softly, as he kept exploring the house.

*What do you want to know?* the shadows asked.

*Did her ex-partner really cheat on her with her sister?* he wondered aloud.

*Yes. They are engaged to be married now,* the shadows answered. *He's an asshole,* they muttered darkly.

Azriel couldn't help but give a nod in agreement. An ass was too kind. Whoever he was, he was more than that. Azriel hated him, whoever he was.

*Anything else?* he asked the shadows, curious, so damn curious, to know more about the female.

*She has a cat. His name is Hector. He may be the ugliest cat in existence,* the shadows said primly, *but she adores him.*

Not what he expected, but it was...sweet. It was kind. She had a pet cat. His lips tugged upwards into an involuntary smile.

*And...?* he trailed off, waiting for a response. He was greedy, so damn greedy for more, so greedy to get to know the female more. His curiosity about her had grown to a fever pitch, it seemed.

The Shadows hummed thoughtfully. *She is very, very kind, Master,* they finally said softly.

Those words caused Azriel's smile to go soft, so damn soft. His heart fluttered at the Shadows' words. She was kind. She was kind and she had a cat that she adored. Her ex was an ass who cheated on her. She read, liked books, which meant she was intelligent, and��

Was he getting excited about someone he had never even met?

*When...when can I meet her?* he asked softly.

*Soon,* the shadows promised. *She doesn't leave the house that often...*

Azriel's brows drew together at that. *Why not?* he asked quietly, not sure if he really wanted the answer to that question.

The Shadows hesitated for a moment before responding. *People...people aren't very nice to her,* they admitted slowly.

Azriel blinked, confused. People...weren't nice to her...? But…why? What was there not to be nice about? From what he had gleaned, she was kind, had a cat, was smart, and liked books. What was wrong with any of that? It didn't make any sense.

*Why?* he demanded shaprly.*Because people are idiots as usual,* the shadows snapped right back. *People aren't nice to you either.*

Azriel gave a small wince at that, the shadows words hitting him like a bucket of ice cold water. But they were right, people weren't all the nicest to him, either.

Still...he didn't like the idea of her being treated poorly. He wanted...Gods, the want was so strong, all of a sudden. The want to…to protect her. To guard her, and protect her. To keep her safe. To make sure she was alright.

*Tell me when she leaves her house,* he demanded.

For a moment he could swear the shadows were nearly frozen in place.

*Change of Plans. Put on a different shirt,* the shadows said quickly. Azriel just stared at them.

*A different shirt?* he asked. He didn't even have any clothing here! That was back at the House of Wind. But the shadows were clearly not taking no for an answer.

He batted away a tendril as it started to unbuckle his fighting leathers and did it himself, only for them to shove him into a shirt that was so dark green it was nearly black and then start fussing with his hair.

Azriel barely had time to even process what was happening before the shadows were pushing him towards the door, still trying to fix and smooth his hair and clothes as they moved forward.

*What is the change of plan?* he asked them

*You are getting to see her right now,* the shadows said with a hint of glee to their voice. *Her sister and some friends are taking her to a bar.*

*The same sister that cheated on her with her ex-partner?* he demanded.

*Yes,* the shadows agreed in a hiss. 

Great. So he was going to have to stop a fight from happening, all while trying to meet the female he apparently was connected to? That was a...recipe for disaster right there..

*She'll be at the Crystal Drop* the shadows informed him, and his heart gave a strange little clench at those words. He was...he was actually going to get to meet her. Tonight.

The feeling of excitement was back, rushing through him like a wildfire. But there was also a hint of trepidation, a hint of nervousness. What if he screwed it all up? What if he messed things up? His stomach was suddenly full of butterflies.

Azriel didn't have time to dwell on those thoughts, though, as the shadows gave him a little nudge forward again, all but forcing him to start moving towards the tavern.

He could see it in the distance, the sign proclaiming it as “Crystal Drop”. It...it was right there. She was there... 

Taking a deep breath, he headed towards the bar, his heart pounding in his chest with every step that he took closer to the entrance. Gods, his hands were shaking. 

He was nervous. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was

He entered the tavern, and his eyes automatically went to the crowd, searching for...something.

The shadows let him towards a place in a corner where he could view the whole bar and he ordered a single fireale, because he was not getting drunk. He wanted his wits about him when he met her. 

But right now…right now, Azriel settled in to watch.

He watched the crowd, his eyes roving around, searching the whole tavern once again. He just wanted to know where the group was. He wanted to know where...she was.

*Do you see her, Master?* the shadows asked him, nearly teasingly.

*I have absolutely no clue how she looks, so how should I?* he gave back in a growl. The door opened and he watched as a group of females poured in...and then right there at the edges of that group...

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell on her, and...oh.

Between one blink and the next everything changed. A golden bond unfurled in his chest, connecting him to her.

Her.

He knew it.

She was his mate.

Mine. He whispered in his head, barely more than a thought. He knew it with every fiber of his being, every part of his heart.

He took her in hungrily. 

She was so beautiful. So, so beautiful. Azriel had to physically restrain himself from going over to her right then and there. 

He could hardly breathe. He couldn't form a coherent thought. His whole world had suddenly narrowed to the sight in front of her. His mate.

*Master?* There was alarm in the shadows voices as his breathing became near erratic.

*She's...You found my mate,* he said weakly.

The shadows hummed in confirmation and his eyes were glued to her still, drinking her in. She had long brown hair with soft curls, falling over back, bangs framing a rounded face with high cheekbones and plump cheeks...full rosy lips too and adorable freckles dotting over her nose...

She was the most beautiful being he had ever seen.  She was simply...stunning. 

And mine, he thought to himself. She was his. She was his mate.

He didn't even look at the rest of the group. Just focused on the one...the one who was at the edge of the group, seemingly trying to vanish, to become invisible. 

Even from the distance, Azriel could see the tension in his mate’s form. He frowned slightly at that. He didn't like it, seeing her like that.

He...his instincts were starting to kick in, a soft, protective urge rising up in him. He wanted to go to her, to...to stand by her side and ease away whatever was bothering her. But he stayed rooted to the spot, just...just watching her. Just watching his mate, the sight of her soothing every single little part of him until he felt warm all over.

He let the group settle at a table a few feet away from him, forcing himself to look down on the bottle in front of him and not stare at his mate like a total creep.

If he strained his ears, he could hear the whole conversation. Apparently it was his mate’s sisters Hen Party, the kind of celebration that some High Fae Females had before they got married.

Nice. Why not bring along your sister, when you were engaged to the guy that cheated with you on said sister?

The fact that his mate even came along into this bar that evening was probably a sign of how fucking nice she was. And Gods...no wonder his mate was so anxious...this whole thing was just...a disaster waiting to happen.

He glanced towards the group again, his attention once again immediately falling on his mate. He could see it, the small twitch of her fingers, the tightening of her lips...the small little things, and he felt his heart wrench at the sight.

She didn't talk. She was just sitting there silently, while the other females had a raucous conversation, that she wasn't part of. It made him bristle.

He didn't understand why they were doing that, why she wasn't a part of the conversation. She was right there. But they weren't listening, they weren't noticing her...or maybe they were ignoring her on purpose.

He...he didn't like it. He didn’t like it at all.  

Just minutes later, Azriel realised that he should have wished that they kept ignoring her.

Because Azriel was quite certain that he was going to slit his mate's sister's throat with Truthteller if she said one more word. 

The blonde, her sister, stared at his mate and this time a sharp, nasty smile curled on her lips. "Oh, what's the matter, little sister? Mad that I nabbed the male you were going to marry?" she taunted with a malicious grin. "I guess he just liked me better."

Azriel was so shocked that he could just sit there, staring. 

The other females laughed as the blonde continued, her lips curled in a sneer. "You should be happy for me, really," she said, her voice sugary sweet. "After all, you could never keep him happy. You've always been useless, haven't you?"

The comments made Azriel see red. What the hell was wrong with this female? Who treated their own sister like this? 

He had half a mind to go over there and wring her neck. 

*Don’t,* his shadows hissed. *You’ll make it worse.*

*Make it worse?! It can’t fucking get worse!* he hissed back. 

He itched to go over to the group, to protect his mate from these cruel, cruel words. 

*Yes, it can,* the shadows snapped. *What do you want to do? Massacre her sister right in front of her?!* Azriel growled under his breath. 

*Normally you are much more bloodthirsty,* he complained to the shadows. 

*You are the fucking spymaster. Act like it,* the shadows snapped. *You want us to make her sister’s life a misery? We’ll do it. We’ll do it and it will never be traced back to you. Besides, she deserves worse than a quick death.*

He clenched his teeth. 

The other females were laughing, but his mate...wasn't. She wasn't saying a single word, wasn't defending herself, wasn't saying anything. Just...just sitting there and taking the horrible abuse with a neutral, blank expression on her face.

"Cat got your tongue?" her sister asked her with a roll of her eyes. "I mean, it's not like you're good at talking, are you?" she asked her with a cruel little laugh. "Too bad for you that males want females that are able to have a conversation, not awkward little things who can't even speak when spoken to."

Azriel's body tensed as he listened to the words, every muscle coiled tight. It took every ounce of his control not to stride over to the group of females and punch her sister straight in the face. The only thing he wanted to do in that moment was to protect his mate.

The comment clearly found it's target, Azriel could see his mate flinch at the words, her face crumbling momentarily before it smoothed over into a neutral expression again. Gods...it must've hurt so badly to hear her sister speak to her like that…

*We’ll ruin her fucking life,* he vowed to the shadows. 

*Agreed, Master.”

Her sister rolled her eyes another time. "Come on, let's go," she told the other females. "You have the bill, don't you, Skylar?"

The words made Azriel snap. So the sister hadn't intended to even pay for her drinks in the first place? It was…they had just used her, he realised suddenly. Used her for the first stop on their tavern tour, to pick up the drink tab…and that was all she was good for in their eyes…

It was...Azriel couldn't stand by and watch this anymore, it made him so angry. So fucking furious.

"Ye...yes," his mate stuttered.

She looked so small in that moment, her eyes averted, her shoulders slumped, her hands trembling. She looked...wounded, so hurt, and Azriel was...he was sick of seeing her just accept this verbal abuse without a word. 

They left. They should thank the cauldron that they left at that moment, because otherwise Azriel would have made Cassian at his worst look like a puppy.

He wanted to storm after them, to give every single person in the group a piece of his mind, but that could wait. The most important thing right now was his mate. She was still here, after all. Azriel took a deep breath, and slowly, almost hesitantly walked towards her.

He watched as she didn't move, and he finally decided to speak, his voice a low, soft murmur. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the chair beside her.

Her head turned, and he felt his heart stop as her eyes met his for the first time. Up close, her eyes were...mesmerizing. A deep, sparkling blue, framed by long, lush eyelashes. He couldn't look away from her.

And she stared at him, her mouth slightly open, her eyes near comically wide.

He gave her a soft, slow smile. "Hi," he greeted her, his voice gentle. She blinked a few times, still staring at him, and he found it so cute, how shocked she was that he was talking to her. 

Her mouth opened but no words came out. She was staring at him like a poor bunny rabbit would at an apex predator , caught in his grasp.

For just a moment her scent went utterly haywire.

Caramel and Hazelnuts. So sugary sweet that he would have gladly rolled around in it. And she just stared at him, wide eyed, silent...until suddenly the scent changed to incadescent happiness.

"Oh." A small sound escaped her as she swallowed.

And he knew. He knew at that moment that the bond had just snapped for her.

[bananayuyu]

All in Black

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 7.0k

Summary: Who knew grad school would bring you the hottest man you'd ever met?

Warnings: MDNI, smut, fingering, anal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (oops), alcohol consumption, I think that's all

A/n: That damn black tank does things to me... this was severe self indulgence, I hope y'all enjoy <3 (I didn't edit this one so sorry for mistakes)

Read it on ao3

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The first month of grad school, it hit you like a train.

Maybe you had partied a lot in college.

It really would depend who you asked. It was what everyone around you did, as far as you could tell. At least you avoided the worst of it, the blackouts or harder drugs or strange off campus house parties where no one knew anyone. At least you stuck to your friends, the dorms, the familiar safety of campus. You'd had fun; you were young, in need of time, exploration, a chance to see the world and all it had to offer. Maybe that meant a few too many shots, sometimes, or a regrettable hookup or two. Maybe it meant hauling your best friend away from that stupid boy she was hung up on, stumbling back to your dorm in a fit of giggles and tears.

Maybe you thought you were over it, by the time senior year came. The summer after graduation you spent working, and with so many of your close friends already off to their new lives, you'd gone out less and less, staying in instead and preparing for your future.

Maybe this was growing up, you thought.

But the new city had you questioning everything. It had you missing those messy nights, those tight dresses and uncomfortable heels, those looks you shot your bestie when you knew someone was coming on to you. You miss indulging in it all, missed talking in hushed tones to the tall, gorgeous history major and asking him every possible question you could till his eyes had scanned every inch of you. You missed giggling at night in the dorm, keeping each other up with replays of your messy make-outs in the halls, an RA sternly barking at you to get your 'obviously drunk asses' out of there. And you missed hands on your hips, lips on your neck, that feeling of being so lost in someone you forgot every single thing you'd studied that day...

Why had he been on your mind so much the last three weeks?

Maybe it wasn't just the new city, that had caught you in your head and spun you for a ride.

"Hey, are you busy tonight?" your best friend called across the living room as you stood by the stove, mending your stir fry. Her face was buried in her phone, legs crossed over each other as she lounged on the purple couch, your shared apartment the epitome of colorful and girly.

"No, I don't think so, why?" you asked, adding noodles to the pan, a sharp hiss following as they hit the sizzling surface.

"Well, Mingi just texted me..." she trailed off, and you knew her face was scrunched up in an adorable smile, even though you couldn't see her.

"Oh really? He did?" you responded, laughter filling the air between you.

"He said they're having a little party at their house tonight," she continued, sitting herself up and finally looking your way.

"And?" you asked, making eye contact with her, your eyebrows slightly raised.

"He said he hopes to see me there," she laughed, brushing her long hair out of her face.

"And you need me to come for moral support?" you joked, turning off the heat on the stove and moving to grab plates from the cabinet.

"Well, yeah, that, and also, he said-" she paused a moment, grabbing her phone again and opening it. "He said, and bring that little friend of yours, Yunho wants to see her again."

"Hannah," you sighed, eyes shooting her way. "Don't fuck with me, I'll go with you to wing-woman, I don't mind."

"I'm not fucking with you, seriously! Come look!" She held out her phone, and instantly the plates were forgotten as you walked over. Leaning down and squinting at her phone, you peered at the texts on the screen in front of you.

S.M.G: We're having a little party at our house tonight, I hope to see you there S.M.G: Oh and Han, bring that little friend of yours, Yunho wants to see her again

And as you stared at the screen, another text came through, followed by another.

S.M.G: Sorry if calling her your little friend sounds mean S.M.G: That's just what Yunho called her, so, yeah. And she is quite little

"Oh my god," you laughed, shaking your head and standing. You feigned disinterest, more to yourself that your best friend, but you couldn't deny that seeing his name made something in you flip with excitement.

"What?" Hannah asked, but her question was answered as soon as she peered at the new texts herself. Then she laughed again, prompting you to ask the same question.

"What?"

She just turned her phone to you, and you squinted again.

S.M.G: You're both quite little. A pair of little chicks S.M.G: Sorry, idk what tf that was S.M.G: We'd love to see you both

"Girl, he's so obsessed with you," you chuckle as you stand, making your way back to kitchen.

"He's so weird," she says behind you, but you hear the adoration in her voice, hear the way she can't fight the smile that's forming.

"Don't pretend you don't love it," you responded, finally grabbing the plates now, grabbing some noodles from the pan for each of you.

"Ah, shit, I burnt it a bit on the bottom," you said, the slightly bitter smell wafting up to your nose.

"How will I ever survive," Hannah cried, a hand coming to her forehead as she swooned into the couch again.

"It's your fault for distracting me with those damn texts, missy," you shot back, fighting off laughter.

"My bad," she sang out behind you, and when your faces met she was pouting.

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"I know you're not really into partying anymore," Hannah said, as you both stood at the sink, washing and drying your dirty dishes.

"I guess not," you replied, looking over to her.

"What I mean is, if you don't want to come tonight, you don't have to. I just always invite you to everything, you know. Cause I love to have you there. But it doesn't mean you have to come." The sappiness wasn't surprising from her; you'd never expected to become best friends with your randomly-assigned freshmen roommate, but every since the day you'd met you'd learned what being best friends with someone could really feel like. The unending support, the companionship. She almost felt like more than you deserved, sometimes.

"Does it seem like I don't want to come?" you asked.

"I just, I don't know if Yunho did anything weird last time we were there, or anything, and I don't want you to feel pressured to go there if he did."

"Oh, Han, no. Nothing weird happened."

"You just hadn't said anything about him, so I wondered if, I don't know, he made you feel weird."

"You're too sweet for this world," you replied, shaking your head at her worry and sincerity.

"So you just don't really like him?" she asked.

"No, I-" you stopped yourself, remembering that night from three weeks ago. "I've just been busy as hell since then, we haven't really had a chance to just sit down and talk. And-" you hesitated again, a thought suddenly bubbling up quickly within you. "He also only talked to me for like ten minutes that night, I'm surprised he's telling Mingi he wants to see me."

"It sounds like he's obsessed, too," she replied, giggling.

"I don't know about that," you sighed, but you couldn't help the slight color that rose in your cheeks.

"Oh, girl, please. Of course he is," she replied, nudging your hip with hers.

"We'll see, I guess," you chuckled, drying the last of your dishes, placing the hand towel back on the handle of the oven. "I hope he likes black dresses," you laughed, and your best friend gave you a knowing smirk, making her way to her room to grab her outfit and makeup for the evening.

You'd both noticed it immediately when you'd met, how you were literally exactly the same size. The clothes sharing started pretty much immediately, and it was convenient at first, as laundry days were hard to come by freshman year. The first time you went out you both laughed as you realized you owned the exact same little black dress; and maybe it was surprising, maybe it wasn't, but you both loved it. You hit the party that night dressed almost identical, your matching brunette waves flowing in the breeze behind you as you made your way to the frat house. You looked so similar, everyone that night had trouble telling you apart. So you kept doing it; every time you went out, you matched your outfits in some way, even if it was minor.

Then during sophomore year you both gained just a little bit of weight at almost the same time, and it really felt like the universe telling you something. You both went out to shop for new dresses together. Those old ones from high school just didn't fit your now twenty year old bodies, and it was time for a change, anyway.

It had been a while since you'd been out, so you both knew. It was those matching scrappy black dresses you'd be wearing, those ones that hugged your curves so perfectly and made you feel like a perfect little barbie doll. You'd pair yours with your plat form Mary Janes; Hannah would be in her favorite black strappy heels, the ones that made her a few inches taller than you.

It was a joyful hour, getting ready. You hadn't sat down to do a full face of makeup in so long; you couldn't even recall the last time, which must have been nearly a year ago, at this point. You were almost certain you'd both show up overdressed, but you were having too much fun. You added heavy liner to your eyes, a glittery highlight to your cheeks. Hannah drew a tiny heart on your cheek with her gel liner, and you put a pink kiss on her cheek, reapplying your lipstick after you did.

"Do you wanna pregame at all?" she asked you as you both finally pulled on your shoes, the final touch to your outfits.

"Honestly, I don't even feel like drinking tonight," you laughed, looking up at her.

"Dude, me neither. My stomach's been all sensitive today," she said, grabbing your black purse from the hook it rested on.

"Your period is coming, then," you said, laughing at the way her faced scrunched up.

"You read my body better than I do," she pouted, reaching inside your bag to check in the inner pocket. "I'm gonna go get some tampons to put in here, just in case. Then we'll go, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll put your phone and keys in here," you said, grabbing the purse from her, as she walked to the bathroom to grab the tampons.

<><><><><><><><><>

You both knocked on their front door, the wood sounding dull and flimsy under your fists.

The graduate student housing wasn't exactly brand new, but the boys had made a good effort of making the inside of their place nicer than most. You'd only been over a few times, but you'd seen everything the bottom floor had to offer: their kitchen, living room, and Mingi's bedroom, and the bathroom that sat right beside it, just past the stair case.

The three bedrooms upstairs were a mystery to you, but judging by how clean they kept the bottom floor, you'd bet it wasn't as much of a disaster up there as one may expect.

It certainly surprised you the first time you were here. You and Hannah both walked in apprehensive that day.

"Hey! Come on in," Mingi answered the door, his wide smile flashing with a hint of mischief as he eyed Hannah up and down, the two of you walking in underneath his outstretched arm. "Glad you guys could make it," he said, nodding in your direction, an arm reaching out to take your purse.

"Can you put it in your room? It has my stuff in it," Hannah said to him, flashing doe eyes up in his direction for just a second, her lips in the whisper of a pout.

You almost couldn't contain the laughter, at watching Mingi fight off the smile on his face, how he looked so entranced by her already and it'd only been a few seconds.

"Of course, Han," he replied, stepping past you to put it where she'd asked.

With him out of sight you both finally took in your surroundings; a small party might have been an understatement, though it wasn't a rager by any means. There were more people in here than you expected, though, and you definitely realized you hadn't overdressed. Now you were very thankful you'd decided to go full out tonight; there must have been some special occasion being celebrated, because almost everyone was dressed to the nines.

"It's on my bed, if you need it," Mingi said as he returned, a hand sliding around Hannah's waist as he moved next to her. The two got lost in easy conversation immediately, but your eyes continued to trail across the space, across the living room full of people, peaking into the side of the kitchen that you could still see.

"Yunho's in the kitchen, y/n," Mingi said, and Hannah giggled, making you realize he'd had to say it twice.

"Oh, thanks," you nearly blushed, chuckling at your own lost thoughts. It had been a long, long time you'd been to a party with more than thirty people in attendance, and suddenly you realized you did miss this, even if you felt like you shouldn't anymore.

You squeezed Hannah's hand, then started snaking your way through the house, through the throng of people chatting and dancing in the living room. You had to bump past two tight groups of friends, all dancing and laughing and nearly spilling their drinks on each other, and the last time you did the girl turned around, eyes wide with apology.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" she said, grabbing onto your forearm briefly to steady herself. "I didn't see you there, you're so short!" Her words slightly slurred together, and her cheeks were the pinkish red that always accompanied a pale girl with one too many shots in her. It wasn't even that late yet; but you'd met this girl before, had a thousand conversations with her. You held back your laughter, as you always did, but couldn't help finding the whole thing adorably hilarious.

"You're good, it's fine," you said, making to talk past her again, but her arm didn't leave yours.

"You're so pretty by the way! And adorable! I meant you're short in a good way!"

There it was. The thing you missed most about running into random girls at parties, the way they shamelessly complimented you within an inch of your life if they'd had enough to drink.

"Oh, stop, you're so sweet!" you called back, leaning in to give her a quick hug. "Your dress looks stunning on you, by the way." Her hips were hugged by a dark blue satin number, which balanced against her pale hair and pale skin so beautifully.

"You should come dance with us once you get a drink!" she said, a huge smile breaking across her face as her friends all agreed, more of them shooting compliments your way.

"Definitely, I will!" you called, but just then the music swelled, and you couldn't hear each other as well, and maybe you were a little thankful for it. You bid her and her group goodbye, finally making it across to the kitchen. You peaked your head back a moment, catching Hannah's eye, Mingi's face low and next to her's as he obviously whispered something in her ear. You could see her cheeks redden even from across the room, and she winked at you quickly, before turning back around to him to respond.

Already you felt drawn into it all, and you hadn't seen him yet. You might go and dance with those girls later, you might not. You had no idea where this night would take you. R&B played through the speakers in their living room, and your hips swung on their own accord, the beat too groovy to ignore. You watched on for a moment as Mingi and Hannah got lost in each other, then turned towards the kitchen again, getting lost in a sight of your own.

There he was, just as Mingi said. In the kitchen, an arm outstretched above his head as he grabbed a stack of glasses from the highest shelf of their cabinets. His black tank left the muscles in his arm exposed; you could see his shoulder flex as he reached high, his bicep bulge as he brought the glasses down, balancing the heavy stack. There were two guys behind him, and one by one he poured them glasses of wine, each of them taking two as they exited the kitchen.

He still hadn't seen you, but you couldn't stop staring. As he leaned down into the open door of the fridge you caught the muscles in his back flex, and now you saw the tight black jeans he was wearing, his thighs on full display for your hungry eyes. On his feet were his black sneakers, ones you'd seen plenty of times, his favorite shoes. And just then as he stood up he caught sight of you finally, doing a subtle double take as he set down the beer he'd just grabbed on the counter.

"Hannah's little friend is here," you said as you finally walked closer, coming to rest your hip against the counter he was standing at, a few feet down from him. He raised his eyebrows in amusement, a tiny smile forming on his full lips, as he looked you up and down.

"Hey stranger," he said, cracking open his beer sharply, tossing the bottle cap in the sink. He stood and took a big swig, his opposite hand sliding in his pocket as he leaned back, the bubbles in the bottle fighting for escape. You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, watched the way he wiped an extra drop from his lip once the bottle hit the counter again. His skin was almost shiny in the yellow light of the kitchen, and you could swear you could smell the sweat on him, the slightly musky smell making your insides flip more than once. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Got anything non-alcoholic?" you asked, already laughing at the question. His face screwed up in hesitance for a second, but then he turned to open the fridge again, peering through the shelves of beer and seltzers and random leftovers.

"Water?" he asked as he stood and closed the door, looking at you incredulously.

"That's fine, that sounds good," you chuckled.

"You want ice?" he asked, peering at you sideways, taking another quick swig of his beer.

"Sure, thanks," you breathed, so caught up in the sight of him, in his broad shoulders and chest just feet from you. You got to see his beautiful left arm again as he reached up for a glass, and he noticed every bit of you staring; he looked back over his shoulder as he filled your glass from the fridge door, catching your wide eyed gaze and making you feel caught out.

"So why haven't I seen you in three weeks?" he asked as he handed you the glass, your fingers brushing over each other for a moment. Against the ice-cold glass his fingers felt electric, your whole arm coming alive under his touch.

"What do you mean?" you responded, looking up at him as you took a sip, eyes trained on him.

"Hannah's been over every weekend," he answered, and you tilted your head again, your question still unanswered. "I though you two were kind of a package deal."

"We don't go everywhere together," you answered, rolling your eyes at him. "We're not that co-dependent. Plus, you know, her and Mingi..." You gestured with your hands, as if they could speak for you.

"Her and Mingi what?"

"They're dating, of course she's over here every weekend," you said. He just hummed in response, giving you an unreadable look. "What?" you asked, narrowing your eyes playfully.

"I told you to come with her, whenever you felt like it," he continued, taking another long drag of his beer.

"I've been busy," you shot back, not sure why it felt like he was probing, but enjoying the chance to play fight a little, if that's what he wanted.

"Oh really?" he eyed you, eyebrows raised. A mischievous glint ran through the deep brown of his irises, and it made you shiver in your tiny dress.

"I am studying literature, I do have to actually read a lot," you said, drawing out the syllables in the word.

"Ah, I see, I had no idea," he drawled back, rolling his eyes at you.

"I thought you might relate to that, mister," you answered, looking up at him with innocent sincerity.

"Of course I do, history is basically all reading," he responded, eyeing you. "But Saturday nights are my time off, to relax."

"How responsible of you," you joked.

"You should try it sometime."

"What, relaxing?" you asked, and he nodded his head. "Do I not seem relaxed?"

"Tonight you do," he chuckled, eyeing you up and down again.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, arms crossing over your chest. You could see his eyes dart down for a moment, knowing the position was pushing your tits up even higher and making them nearly fall out of your tiny ensemble.

"Last time you didn't seem, you know, like this," he said, eyes coming back up to meet yours.

"Why, cause my dress didn't leave nothing to the imagination?"

He nearly spit out his drink, laughing at that. "No, cause you left so early."

"Cause I had work to do. And you just walked away, so..." you trailed off, now eyeing him with confusion.

"I told you I'd talk to you later, I had to help Jongho with something," he said.

"Yeah, and that doesn't at all sound like an excuse to walk away," you retorted, rolling your eyes again.

"Woah," he said, a soft look of genuine shock on your face. Maybe that last sentence had come out a little harsher than you'd meant it to, but you couldn't deny that it was disappointing when he'd done that. You'd told yourself that day it was just how things go. You wouldn't always get the person, even if they seemed definitely, totally into you.

As your thoughts wandered, Yunho kept his eye contact, even as a fellow partier stumbled through the kitchen to grab a seltzer form the fridge, nearly bumping into the two of you. You watched as they left the kitchen, a short sigh escaping your lips without you meaning for it to. As you met Yunho's eyes again he was still staring, still fixed on you so sharply.

"What?" you asked.

"You look really good in black," he said, smirk hitting his lips as he took another sip from his drink.

"Oh my god," you chuckled, shaking your head, but deep down all you could think was so do you.

"Let's stop arguing and go dance," he said, lifting up your glass of water to you, gently turning your shoulders with his hands and pushing you in the direction of the living room. You resisted, a little; you could't help it, and it made him laugh, that deep, sweet sound echoing in your ear as he pushed you just slightly harder.

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It had been too long since you were squeezed in the middle of too many dancing bodies, smashed between people you barely knew.

As the night turned darker the boys turned up the music, the playlist changing to more hip hop and pop, the whole room lighting up with singing and rapping and cheers. You were smashed between Yunho and Hannah, and another girl whose name you couldn't hear over the music, even as she screamed it at you. It didn't take long for Yunho's hands to find your hips, or your hands to find his arms, his chest, his stomach.

You couldn't keep them off of him. Not when you were pressed together and you really had no other choice. You were thankful for your water then; the room was hot and sweaty with so many bodies in close quarters, and the heat of Yunho's body against yours was doing nothing to help the sheen forming on every inch of your skin.

It was magical, just what you needed. You had missed this, you really had. You kept reaching out to your best friend, singing and dancing and screaming with her, hoping she understood that really what you were saying was thank you, thank you, thank you so freaking much.

It was intoxicating, but there was something missing; you hated to admit it, but thrashing about in a group of people just wasn't the same without a little buzz. You didn't need much, but the slight light headedness and warmth in your chest that always accompanied a drink or two was just the thing to take a night like this from great to amazing. You knew you'd need to sneak out of the sea of bodies soon, and head back to the kitchen to find something good. But you'd wait till this song was over, wait until the bodies weren't so chaotic in their movement.

But then you stared up, at the high cheeks in front of you, at the deep chocolate eyes and dirty blonde hair, and had another idea. As he raised his beer to his lips you reached up to grab it, and in the shock of the moment you were able to snatch it away too easily. You brought it down to your level, taking a deep swig of it, the taste more bitter and sharp than you were expecting. But it was not unpleasant; if you had to guess it was a nice beer of some kind, not something cheap and flimsy.

"Hey, I thought you didn't want any alcohol!" Yunho called down to you, trying to reach for it.

"I do now!" you yelled back, smirk on your lips as you took another long sip.

"Hey, hey, that's the last bottle of the nice German beer my uncle got for me, y/n-"

But you cut him off, spinning in an instant and making a run for it, wanting nothing more than to finish this precious beer right in front of his eyes, and see what he'd do about it. It was a challenge pushing through the crowd, but you were at an advantage; you were quite small, and could duck under raised arms and flailing drinks. Behind you Yunho didn't fare so well, his height a massive disadvantage in this moment.

Once you broke free of the crowd you found yourself near the front door again, and with nowhere else to run you made for the stairs. Your platform shoes weighed heavy on your feet as you climbed, but the adrenaline coursing through you did wonders to propel you up the stairs, your breath barely affected as you crested the top. You could hear heavy footsteps behind you now, and you shrieked in terror, a deep laugh drifting up through the air behind you. Suddenly you found yourself somewhere you'd never been before, and unsure of where to go next you just kept running, a bit down the hallway stretching out in front of you.

He was closing in now, you could feel it, but you were having too much fun with the chase to let this go. A door to your left was ajar, and on a whim you decided to run through it, knowing full well it was probably a dead end. As you busted in you realized it was the upstairs bathroom, your hand met with the cold tile countertop by the sink. You spun and braced for impact, taking the beer again to your lips to try to finish it all, savor every last bit of it.

"Fuck you," Yunho grumbled as he stumbled in after you, shaking his head and grabbing the beer from you with ease, this time. You hadn't managed to finish it; instead he was the one to do so, with a long and drawn out swig and multiple glugs, his gorgeous neck out in full display for you. A nightlight sat in the corner and bathed you both in a soft purple light, and in the shadows you could see every crease and line in his shoulders, his muscles looking even more defined. With a final glug he slammed the beer on the counter beside you, suddenly caging you in with his arms, his face now only inches from yours.

And even though a part of you was nervous, trembling under his gaze, you couldn't help but smile and giggle up at him, the frustration in his eyes doing nothing but turning you on further.

"Did you want to fight, tonight?" he laughed, eyes boring into yours as he refused to move, even though you squirmed beneath him.

"I don't think so," you laughed, giving him your best innocent eyes, biting your lip between your teeth.

"You're so weird," he chuckled, finally breaking, stepping back up and away from you with a shake of his head.

"I'm not the one who wore a black tank top to a fancy party," you shot back, eyes snaking down the entirety of his form in front of you.

"Oh, you think I look bad?" he joked, his tone thick with sarcasm.

"I didn't say that. Just a surprising choice," you responded, raising your shoulders ever so slightly.

"I just got back from the gym and people were already showing up, I didn't really have time to change much," he shot back, arms crossing over his chest this time.

"Oh wow, the gym," your responded, mouth opening as you feigned amazement.

"You should come with me sometime," he said, adjusting his stance.

"Why, so you can stare at my ass while I do squats?" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

"You..." he trailed off, shaking his head as his hands came up to his hair, running through them quickly.

"What?" you asked, anchoring your hands behind you on the counter, staring up hard at the tall man in front of you.

"What do you want?" he asked, head cocked to the side, his tone dropping some.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want me to kiss you? Or are you mad at me?" he asked.

"Can you really not tell?" you responded, batting your eyelashes up at him and pushing your chest out, your back arching off the counter slightly.

"Fuck," he muttered, and in an instant the door to the bathroom was closed tight, and he was stalking over to you with a harshness in his gaze that you weren't expecting.

You couldn't have prepared yourself for how it would feel, his soft, full lips on yours, his huge hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist. Immediately you were arching into him, pulling hard at his arms and abdomen, begging him to come closer and smother you with all the lust and warmth he had. His breath was hot in your mouth, making the rest of you feel cold and needy, and your body trembled beneath him, your movements growing more deperate. He deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping through your mouth as his hands lowered, digging now into the flesh of your hips and ass, his own hips now flush with your center as you shameless ground around one of his legs. He reached down and pulled you up, sitting you not he counter in front of him, your back flush with the cold mirror behind. HIs hand came to cradle the back of your head, his mouth devouring yours as he nipped at your lower lip, pulling back to start sucking marks into your neck and leaving you a panting mess.

You raked your hands through his soft hair, the salt on your skin tasting wonderful as he worked his way down, brushing his tongue along your collar bone and making you moan in response. You could already feel yourself soaking your dress; you had no thought of the consequences now, his thumbs brushing over your already erect nipples that now pushed against the thin material of your dress.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he groaned as he pulled back front you, watching your body writhe underneath his touch, his hips humping into yours to try to relieve some of the strain in his pants. "You promise me you'll tell me if you don't like anything?" he asked, nearly panting out the words.

"Of course," you managed beneath him, blinking open your heavy eyes to meet his. "Do everything to me, please?" you begged, already so lust filled you couldn't think straight.

"You sure, baby?" he chuckled in response, watching a small bashful smile form on your lips, the sealing indication that you truly meant what you just said.

"Come here," he said, pulling back his hands from your chest, your body nearly limp from all the stimulation. He pulled you down from the counter again, and just when you thought he would kiss you again, he turned you around, pressing on your lower back to make you arch, forcing you to place your forearms on the counter. You were now face to face with yourself, and could see everything; your eyeliner was smudged, your lipstick smeared from the kiss, and your hair was even curlier than you'd remembered it being when you left your place a few hours ago.

You looked a mess, that was certain. Like someone about to get fucked in the bathroom of a house she barely knew. And that turned you on even more, seeing the greedy, selfish look in your eye, knowing you were finally getting what you'd really wanted these last three weeks.

"Of course, no panties," Yunho chuckled from behind you, using his hands to hike up the bottom of your dress and pull your ass into view.

"Oops," you laughed below him, finally looking up from your own face to watch him in the mirror, his eyes locked down and full of an intensity you'd never seen before. God, you fucking loved that black tank on him, loved seeing his shoulders flex while kneaded the flesh of your ass, his face hard and focused. And then he finally moved his right hand lower, tracing his fingers around your slit before pushing one in you, the pleasure crashing through you in an instant.

"Fuck," you moaned, eyes rolling back as you tried to keep holding yourself up.

"You like that?" Yunho asked, his eyes now trained on your face in the mirror, the pure bliss emanating from your open mouth.

"Yeah, fuck, yeah," you moaned again, his finger now moving in and out slowly, his other hand still anchored on your back and keeping you in place.

"You want more?" he asked, and you nodded furiously, your breath so deep and fast now that you could barely answer him. He slid in another finger, and then another; you could feel the stretch, your cunt swallowing his long fingers with a hunger you couldn't explain. You just knew when you'd first seen those hands that they'd feel good buried inside you, but now that you were here you couldn't believe what you were feeling. He was better than anyone you'd ever been with, his fingers curling inside you in just the right way to have you trembling and coming in just minutes.

You moaned loudly, pussy clenching hard around him, and Yunho watched with near disbelief as he saw the muscles of your cunt fluttering, your tight hole above it staring him in the face. "Did you come already?" he asked, and you could only whisper a quick yeah in response, the aftershocks still wracking through you. "Fuck, you're so sensitive," he groaned, hips bucking into your leg as his cock grew more and more painfully erect in his tight pants.

As the fluttering in your cunt slowed he pulled his fingers out, now drenched in your juices and glistening in the soft light of the bathroom. He couldn't keep himself from running them over the tight ring of muscle above, your body immediately nearly folding at the contact. It felt too good, your ass getting rubbed just after you'd come so hard, and you nearly collapsed onto the counter in front of you, your head hanging lax as you moaned.

"You like getting your ass touched?" Yunho said behind you, watching the way the muscles of your ass and thighs clenched as he kept rubbing in small circled, smearing your slick all over you.

"Yes, more, please," you begged beneath him, shoving your lower half further in his direction, arching your back even more. "Please, both, ahh," you moaned, as he tested the waters with one finger, pushing it into the tight ring of muscle.

"You want me to fuck both your holes?" he asked, and again you could barely get out an emphatic and breathy yeah, your moaning increasing again as he pushed the finger in, your ass having to stretch to accommodate it.

"Fuck, you're so dirty," he groaned, using the slick from your cunt to fuck his finger in your ass, slowly picking up his pace again. He experimentally added another finger, and the stretch was excruciating; the pleasure and pain swirled around each other, making you cry out, your body trying to reject the added pressure. "You can take baby, I know you can," Yunho chided behind you, his free hand coming to unbotton and unzip his pants, pulling his boxers down just enough to pull out his hard and leaking cock, it's weight hot in his hand.

Finally your body relented, letting the two fingers split open your tight hole, and your wails turned more towards just moans. You felt a tug on your hair; Yunho pulled your head back, making you face the mirror again, your face even more flushed and messy than it was all those minutes ago.

"I want you to watch yourself while I fuck you, okay?" he asked you, but you knew it was more of a command than anything. Yes, you answered him, the pain and pleasure from your asshole clouding your brain entirely and making you pliant underneath his touch. Then he sheathed himself, his huge cock bottoming out inside your still soaking cunt, and you just about blacked out from the pleasure, your mind flying high off into space.

"God, fuck, you feel so good," Yunho groaned behind you, pumping his hips hard and fast, his fingers matching his pace. He'd waited three long weeks to see you again, and couldn't force himself to wait any longer to chase his pleasure. He fucked you hard, the slapping of skin filling the room as he pounded into you, watching your cunt and your asshole getting filled over and over. You did as you were told, keeping your head up, but you couldn't have seen a thing if you tried, your brain so utterly fucked that your eyes could do nothing but hang heavy and low. The whole room was a haze; Yunho could see it, how you'd gone to a whole different plane of pleasure, how you were loving how rough and domineering he was being. The fucked out look on your face was almost too much for him to handle; and then when your cunt starting clenching down on him again, he couldn't stop himself. He came hard, just as you did, the two of you trembling together in your immense pleasure. Slowly you felt his hot cum filling you up, his fingers slipping out of your ass so he could grip onto your hips with both hands, burying his cock as deep as it could go.

<><><><><><><><><>

As you finally stumbled your way back down the stairs, you knew you looked crazy.

You'd tried what you could to fix your hair and makeup, but even with Yunho's help you looked an obvious mess. Maybe it should have bothered you, but you couldn't help not caring as you walked back down to the party, Yunho's hand on your low back as he walked beside you.

"There you are!" Hannah called to you, snaking her way through the now thinner crowd of people. "I thought I might have lost you," she said, draping arms around you, the smell of something sweet on her breath.

"Just upstairs," you responded, fighting the smile forming on your lips.

"Hey, guess what?" she asked, pulling away, still keeping an arm around you.

"Hmm?"

"My period started," she sighed dramatically, head hitting your shoulder.

"Oh my god, I knew it," you laughed in response, falling into her.

"Thank god I brought those tampons," she laughed, head lolling back up to it's normal position.

"Hey, guess what?" you now said, eyes wide.

"What?"

You leaned in close, hand coming up to cover your mouth. "We just fucked," you whispered, the two of you falling into giggles immediately.

"Oh my god, yayyyyyy!!" your best friend responded, jumping up and dancing in a circle, grabbing your hands to pull you into her dance, too.

It wasn't long until you all cleared out, the night growing very dark and late and your bodies growing tired. You'd had everything you'd missed tonight; the partying, the fun, the sex. But most of all you had the best night cap ever with your bestie, recapping everything to her, minute by minute, till you both could barely speak anymore and fell asleep on the living room floor.

[biwitchenergyz]

Fit to Eat

(Fit to Eat - BiWitchEnergy - Sinners (2025) [Archive of Our Own])

Super long one-shot because I have no self-control! Enjoy <3

The scent of mortality rose from the dancing crowd, lingering at their stomping feet and rising in the air above as they raised their hands to the heavens. Bodies move together in their unique ways, yet follow the same rhythm.

You swayed amongst them, blending into their humanity with a long-practiced ease, dancing against a man with carob eyes whose hands grab your waist uncomfortably tight, desperate enough to amuse you. Hundreds of heartbeats bleeding together made your ears ring, heightened senses overwhelming you. The singer, Preacher Boy as he is called, plays the guitar with precision you have never seen before. 

You remember the music of your home nearly 1,400 years ago and the music your father brought from his own home in a distant land, but sometimes you find it in these places. Changed but still the same, just like your people, whose resilience has endured suffering unimaginable.

Your father would be proud, you think, to see such a thriving party and such joy from people who have had to struggle for any pleasure they get. Your mother, with her Irish heritage and wild nature, would also approve of this rendezvous; you can almost see them now, dancing together beyond the veil where not even the conquerors can separate them.

A sudden commotion from outside reaches your sensitive ears, the mortals don't stir. They dance on without a care, even as you pull away from the grasping man behind you and head for the door. The silly little guard, Cornbread, had examined you and gladly welcomed you in. Taking in your pretty skin, curls, and the wealth of your outfit. Now he stands with the owners and a few others at the front, guarding the door for this newcomer who waits outside, asking for permission to join the party. 

“What’s going on out there, Miss Annie?” You asked the gentle woman, with her calming demeanor reminding you of a sister long lost to time. She smiled, shaking her pretty head and telling you not to worry. A familiar scent catches your nose as she speaks, your eyes locked on a strong pair of legs standing right outside the door, the rest of the body blocked by the handsome twins who own the Joint.  

Tobacco and sandalwood wafting in the air made your head swim, and your mind traveled to times of laughter and whispered conversation. Safety flooded your veins like a shot filled with ecstasy. You try to shake off the warmth you feel, but it's not a good idea to let yourself relax in such a way. After all, you are a predator of the finest degree, like a lioness on the prow. 

“Maybe for just one night we can all be family.” Like smooth whisky, that voice washes over you, and in an instant, you rush forward until you stand just behind the taller men who block your path. You could move them, shove them so hard they'd fly out the door and hit the dirt with a resounding thud, but there is no need. You have learned when to be violent and when to be human. 

“Remmick,” you say his name like a prayer. For you, it is. How long had it been? A millennium had felt like eons, yet your thoughts of him were just as frequent as the last day you shared with him. You left him for a reason, yet he clawed his way back, like you were the oasis for this dying man. His eyes reveal the truth: He wasn't expecting to find you here. They are stunned, entirely black, and dilated. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down like he's choking on your presence.

“Ay, pretty girl! Ya’ know this white boy?” Stack asks as he lets you in front of him, giving Remmick a full view of you. You bite your lower lip to stop the smirk that grows on you as you watch the way Remmick's hands shake as if he were an addict being presented a drug just out of reach. His fists clenched at his side, the look in his eyes a blend of desperation, anger, and something else. Something more substantial and more dangerous than the others.

“Ya’, I know him. We go way back. Get on inside, y'all.” You motion for the others to return to the party. If Remmick is looking for a feast, he won't find one here, not with you around. These people weren’t for drinking from; they were your friends, and if you played your cards right, they could be family.

“Ain’t gonna leave you out here with 'em’,” Smoke warns, staying frozen and unmoving like a wall. You shake your head, curls bouncing along your shoulders. Remmick traces every strand of hair with his eyes, hypnotized by the light that catches along your locks. 

“Go on in. Imma just be a minute, besides, he ain't no Klan.” Remmick's face twists into a deep-set frown as if to express disgust at being viewed as a Klan member. Smoke obeys as you step down the stairs, going from above Remmick like a divinity to right below him as he stood a few inches over you. Still, you didn't feel fear; you walked right past him and like an obedient dog, he followed you to the edge of the forest, out of view of the others. 

Suddenly, his demeanor darkens, the redness in his eyes glowing like a demon crawling from hellfire. He didn't put his hands on you, didn't even dare to touch your gentle skin, fearing he'd be turned away in an instant.

“Been lookin’ for you, darlin’.” He growled, baring fangs that matched your own hidden behind your soft lips. “D’fhág tú mé.” You left me. Instinctively, you take his face between your hands, a habit you've found works well with human men. He buried his face within them without hesitation, digging his nose against your fingers and taking in the familiar scent of your skin; he had never let you touch him before, and he certainly never sought it out.

Your head shakes, slowly moving side to side as you force him to look down at you. “D'impigh tú orm.” You begged me. He bit his lip, knowing he couldn’t argue the truth. “You needed me gone, suga’.” Reminding him doesn’t make you feel any better, but it eases the guilt that his wet eyes bring you. Over 400 years were spent together. As humans, He was beyond subtle if he’d ever yearned for you as you did him.

“I’ve looked for you ever since,” his voice cracks. “Can't go on without you. Just can’t. We were friends once, weren't we?” The pain of your absence has taken a toll on him. He looks like a man coming home from war, battered and yearning. His skin is pale as ivory, his blue eyes darker than navy, and filled with loneliness. Raven hair clings to his forehead, the humid Mississippi air makes everything sticky, even your hands feel clammy against his skin. 

“Gotta place out here, just beyond the trees.” His ears perk up, waiting for you to continue. “Let me get my shawl, needa’ tell my friend bye.” His lips twist downward, his eyes flash with something akin to fear. Remmick’s hands find yours as they cling to his face, and he holds you in place. The touch is strange, unfamiliar, but so craved that you don't pull away. 

“I’ll be back, Suga.” With the promise of returning, he lets you peel away from him, but you feel the pinpricks of his red eyes as they follow you into the Juke Joint. Cornbread watches you emerge from the darkness, relieved to see you safe from your little conversation with the stranger. The guard nods as he holds the door open and tells you to go right in. When you are safely inside, the feel of Remmick's eyes is gone, and you yearn for them again.

“Gonna need my shawl now, Annie.” You tell the younger woman as she dances in and out of the kitchen. Her eyebrow raises in one graceful motion.

“You leavin’ with that man?” You nod in confirmation. “I don’ know. Ain’t nothin good ever come from goin’ off with no white man.” She draws a laugh right out of you; it shakes your shoulders. Annie hands you the shawl, and you lean in across the table. You can smell the copper scent of her blood as it pulses through her veins, but your hunger has been sated for the night after draining two Klan members in an old house on the way over.

“Tween’ you and me, that’s my white man.”

——————————————————————-

An agonizing silence fills the walk to your estate. It’s aged, a short-lived summer home for some old white bastard. It was practically rotting when you found it, and the man inside was rotting with it. He wailed when you killed him, his eyes twitching even as you left his body outside, prepped for the vultures.

You’d made the manor into a home despite the moss that clung to the white walls and the overgrown grass filled with snakes, waiting for their next meal. 

The inside is clean, decorated with pristine treasures from travels long ago. In the thousand years since Remmick last saw you, traveling was your primary goal, and now it felt as though you'd seen everything twice over. Antiques from Peru, a grandfather clock bought in Belgium, and Zulu masks that decorate the walls.

It looks brand new yet older than anything else out in the Delta. Not older then the two occupants though, damn near nothing was anymore except perhaps the ruins of civilizations that once believed they would last.

“Never did leave the 1780’s  did ya?” He asked as he took in the decor, a mix of every century you lived through, yet heavily decorated with gilded furniture and antiques that you took from your Chateau in France. A time when you lived as the ‘bastard daughter’ of whatever duke whose home you stumbled upon before turning him, many years after you and Remmick separated.  If you were going to be damned for eternity then you were going to do it in wealth and style. 

Though gorgeously decorated, the home still had a southern feel. Mississippi grew from the floorboards and leaked into its very aesthetic. Your legs folded under you as you dropped onto the velvet couch you had acquired from a man in Leeds about a century ago.

Remmick’s fingertips gently ran across your old whatnot, delicately tracing the antiques resting upon it. A jar, filled with a strange mixture of liquids and herbs, covered in red candle wax, caught his eye. He didn’t touch it; the ornate bottle seemed holy to him. “Looked for ya’ in New Orleans. Heard talk of you there. Nearly tore the damn place apart lookin’.” 

You watched him, his eyes glued to the spell jar; he knew where you got it, from the voodoo queen herself. You hoped he didn’t see right through it, you hoped he didn’t think it was for him. How silly you were to put a protection spell on a man long dead, but you had been inconsolable that night, screaming for a man you thought hated you, yet still desperate to see him again one day.

Remmick doesn’t realize it, he turns to you with a proud tilt to his lips, “was gonna kill 'em all tonight. Thought that singer boy could bring you back to me. Thought if you was dead, then maybe he could show me your pretty face again.”

A cruel scoff rose from the depths of your soul, “ You could have seen my face every morning and every night. I would have been with you now if you had let me, you accursed white devil. I was your friend, I knew you better than anyone!” The southern drawl is gone from your tongue, leaving your authentic accent, something old and new all the same.

“I hated you.” In a second, he voices what you have feared for a millennium. “I blamed you, and it wasn’t even your fault, Darlin’. I was miserable and young, but I’d never do it now. I’m old enough to tell you the truth of it all.”

His lips quiver, “I need you, Darlin’. Always have needed ya. You're all I want.” Remmick sinks to his knees at your feet, digging into the oriental rug you brought from Luoyang. If his head bowed any lower, he would look as if he were prostrating himself before his god. Thick hands, claws and all, find your hips, and he clings to them. 

“You will never forgive me, Remi. I was your creator, I made you a monster. I-,” you pause as a knot rises in your throat, “I killed you.”

Remmick's hair sways as he shakes his head, gripping you harder. “I begged ya’. You was hurting, and I used you. I wanted revenge just as you did. They killed my family, thought they killed ya’. I would have done it all over again. I should never have blamed you.” Tears well in your eyes for the first time in a hundred years, foolish though it is, they don’t dare fall. He sees it and whines, taking both of you by surprise. The sound like a wounded animal snaps you out of a trance. 

“Please, baby.” He was rocking back and forth, his knees shifting against the rug. “Chased you all these years, hoping to get ya’ back. I lied to you, told ya’ I hated you, but spent my days dreaming of you. I had over four hundred years to tell you I loved you, but I was a coward.” The shuffling of his body as he was practically grinding himself against your leg was distracting. 

“I’ve been in love with you since we swam in the Lough Neagh.”  You can’t breathe, your shoulders slack, and you throw your head into your hands. The two of you were human then; your family had just moved to the area after spending eighteen years in the deep forests.

A man like your father and a daughter like you stood out against the pale Irish, especially on your mother's side. You couldn’t have been older than nineteen. It was at least 1,400 years ago.

“I hate you. I loathe you. I’d dance on your grave,” you hissed as the tears poured over your eyes and onto your warm cheeks. “I thought you loved me. Before I turned you. Then you spent all those years, resenting me some days and being a friend the next.” He holds your wrists within his hands, trying to pry them from your face to see the tears that you hid. 

“I love you, Mo Shíorghrá.” My eternal love. Your wrists fell, allowing him to cup your cheeks within his hands, roughened from years of playing any instrument he could master. Slowly, almost like a fleeting touch, his rose colored tongue lapped at the tears that flowed from your eyes.

He continued this in between words, “before death found us, I was gonna marry you. Built the house and everything. We would’ve been parents, we’d have been buried together. I was just waitin’ to confess and ask for your hand.”

“You hated me. We fought every day. I tried to drown you in the Lough Neagh.” Your voice is strained.

“You looked so beautiful holding me underwater.” 

“I would have married you. We could have died together, saved from this eternal torment.” You whisper, a confession of your own that you'd waited a thousand years to say.

“Marry me now, then.”

Remmick’s blackened eyes search your face when you look up at him. Nodding your head to confirm to yourself that he is real and this is not a dream. You splay your hand across his chest, not timidly but calculatedly, pushing him back until he’s off his knees and lying against the ornate rug, surrounding him with vibrant shades of red and purple.

You slide off the couch and straddle him, sitting atop his lap. Remmick’s eyes are wide like a barn owl's, but redness blooms on his cheeks, mirroring the fire you feel spreading across your skin. His claws dig into your dress, ripping the red silk, and you chide him for it.

“Now, sweetheart, I loved this dress. Ya’ gonna be rough with your blushin’ bride?” He groans, thrusting his hips upward, effortlessly pushing your body higher.

Your southern accent leaves his chest heaving; you grin like a Cheshire Cat, realizing you've got him entrapped. Whispers leave him, strained and desperate, begging and cursing the years you spent fighting when you could have been doing this.

“So needy, pretty boy. How many girls ya’ been with? How many ya’ wish was me?” You purr, your clawed hands slowly trace up to his throat as he whimpers your name. When the two of you were humans, he had been engaged but narrowly dodged it, something you used to taunt him about. As far as you knew, he was innocent then.

You taste the salt of your sweat as it drips onto the top of your lip, you lick it away while making direct eye contact with the disheveled man who rolls his hips against you in the most pathetic display you've ever seen. The Irishman groans at the sight of your tongue darting along your plump lips.

“Too many, only when they looked like ya’. Ain’t never loved em’. Called ya’ name multiple times like a damn dog.” He gasps, your hands tighten on his neck, and he bucks his hips again, bouncing you on his lap.

Each buck has you falling back onto him, dragging your heat against his pelvis in a tantalizing way. You bite back a moan as he continues to ignite a deep ache within you. You're trembling above him, rutting against him with strangled cries.

“N’you? Can only imagine everyone who got to bed ya’. Always was stunning, all the people wanted a night with ya’ in their bed.” Hissing like a jealous viper, he grips your hips to grind you down against him. The rough rub of his jeans against your cotton under clothes is enough to make your eyes roll back, but you close them, raking your nails against his chest and shredding through his white shirt. His bulge presses into your clit, stimulating it just enough to make your limbs shake.

“Too many,” You sigh, using his words against him. It isn’t good enough for Remmick. He thrusts the tent of his pants against your core, and his nails sink into your hips.

He caresses the spots where his nails have left red indents on your hips, and his gentle demeanor surprises you until he's pulling you forward to nip at your neck. His fangs brush against you, considering breaking your skin. He’s challenging you, even after all this time, he still enjoys your battles. 

“Was a man out in,” you struggle to stop the sounds that rip from your throat as he continues grinding against you, “Out in Oregon. Coulda been your brother with the way he looked. I rode him till the sun came up.” Remmick growls, in a steady motion that takes you by surprise, he rises to his feet with your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. You feel the outline of him pressed into you, begging for entrance.

“Bedrooms upstairs, suga’. To the right.” Nails tracing his neck, you whisper against his ear as he nearly flies up the stairs. You lean towards him, licking a stripe from his necklace to his jaw. He tastes of salt, copper, and something so sweet you can’t name it.

“Wanna know something else, love? I called ya’ name all night.” For your taunting, you're thrown onto the bed you carefully made before you left for the Juke Joint. The plush bead spread, dark as mulberry wine, cradles your back as you land against it. You're left with your thighs clenched together, desperate for stimulation as Remmick stands over you.

“Gonna do that for me tonight? I’m gonna make your pretty throat raw.” He’s clawing at the dip of your dress, right below your neck.  In one swift motion, he rips the dress straight down the middle.  He raises your leg, taking your ankle into his hand as he tenderly kisses the sensitive skin. Your leg quakes in his hand before he drops it. 

With one sharpened claw, he splits your two-piece undergarments until he can see every inch of you. Gently, he takes the cut clothing and peels it away from your body, tossing the rags to the floor. His shredded shirt follows.

  For the first time, you are completely naked before him. Not to say that he hadn't seen you in all the years you were together, lustful glimpses as the two of you bathed in the rivers and days spent sharing a bedroom waiting for the sun to set had given him prior knowledge of your nude form in rare flashes.

 Nothing could compare to this, with you lying below him, his eyes traced every stretch mark and every freckle in sight. He licked those too, bending over the bed and tracing your details with the tip of his tongue. From the marks along your thighs, he slowly moved lower, closer to where your body called for him. You grasp his hair, pulling his face away from your aching center.

“No! Need you right now, Remi!” Your voice, a strained whine as you pleaded for him to quit all the foreplay and just fuck you. His gleaming red eyes regard you with such softness that you throw your head back to hide your face from his loving gaze, scared he would see the desire in your eyes.

“Bout’ a thousand years I've waited for this.” Remmick's nose nudges your swollen clit, he buries his face into you, inhaling your heady scent. Lifting to watch your face, he continues, “damn near 500,000 days I've spent aching for ya’. Imma’ take my time tonight, darlin’.” He resumes his slow-paced lapping at your dripping cunt. With gentle fingers, he parts your flesh, giving him more access to you—his tongue, initially flat against your entrance, darts inside of you like a bullet. 

Useless words and lustful moans fall from your bloody lips, raw from attempting to bite back whimpers. Remmick has starved, yearned, and thirsted for this since he first laid eyes on you. It was worth every agonizing second.

 “Fuckin’ ambrosia.” He whimpers, “fruit of the gods.” Remmick’s tongue delves in and out of you as though he can’t get enough of your flavor. His fingers, thick yet long, trace your entrance as he pulls his tongue away to focus on your most pleasurable spot, engorged from the teasing. Your wrist finds your mouth when he pushes two fingers inside. Blood seeps from your lips, having bitten through your skin.

 Remmick whines like a bitch in heat. His hips rutting against the comforter as he continues savoring you on his tongue while opening you with his fingers as preparation. You hold your wrist out and he lifts his head, watching curiously as the blood drops down to your swollen cunt. His big red eyes widen at your offering.

“That’s my beloved, feeding me right from her veins,” He groans through swollen lips. Remmick rolls his hips against your bare calf, chasing the bliss that he feels with every move. His tongue swirls around your clit and his lips wrap around it as he sucks gently. His fingers fly in and out of you, deliberately curling into a spot deep inside you that has your back arching off the bed. 

You're clenching around him as you match his pace. Angelic moans fly from your lips, pleasure building in your stomach until the coil snaps and your legs spasm around Remmick's head. Your panting is soft, pleasurable tremors rake through your body.

The Irish man does not let up, he continues sucking and lapping up everything your body gives him, his clawed hands trail up your body until he's grasping at your breasts and rolling your nipples between his fingers. It’s borderline painful, you clench around nothing as he sucks at your clit. 

The continued ministrations leave you spasming, your fingers twitch and clench into Remmick's hair. Your hips grind against his nose, stars in your eyes, and then your body drops like a puppet cut from its string. Drool rolls down your swollen lips, and for a moment, you worry you have hit your head because the world is slipping in slow motion.

“Pretty girl, my pretty bride.” Remmick stroked your cheeks, wiping the drool from the corner of your lips and licking it off his fingers. The flavor of your spit and spend mix together on his tongue, and he whines, loud and needy. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, suga’. You gonna let me?” He raises until your chest is pressed flat against his, and your thighs instinctively wrap around his toned waist. Your hands lazily trace the line of his abdomen down to the thin patch of hair that leads to his arousal. Your palm cups that spot you feel yearning against you, but Remmick grabs your cheeks, pushing your lips together as he pulls your face to meet his.

“Fucked ya’ dumb already? Asked you a question, darlin’.” He says as you struggle to speak or meet his gaze. You are still drooling, mind empty of everything but him. You bobbed your head up and down, hoping to answer his question while your mind reeled from the pleasure in your veins. Tenderly, Remmick’s lips meet yours.

 It was not your first kiss; that was the day you turned him, but it's just as significant. You wrap your arms around his head, pulling him back to you when you part. This time, your lips move together, slowly pushing against each other.

Your tongue runs along his lips, he opens his mouth eagerly, and you wrap your tongue around his. You pull back when your lungs burn, Remmick rests his forehead against yours, and you stare into each other's eyes for a few loving minutes. “ I s liomsa thú agus is leatsa mise.” You are mine, and I am yours.

With trembling hands, Remmick takes hold of his weeping cock and positions it at your ready entrance. Gently, he inches himself into you until he can’t go any further. You swallow him within your warmth; he pulses with blood from his latest victim, and you can feel him twitch within you. Your legs, still wrapped around him, push him into you, begging for him to move, but he remains still. His eyes, rubies of light, watch you as if he's a man obsessed, taking in the curve of your nose and the bow of your lips.

 “I loved ya’ in Ireland.” He starts, ignoring your confused look. “I’ve followed traces of ya’ from the deserts to freezing shores. And in every place, every damned second, I’ve been entirely in love with ya’.” He pulls back slowly, letting you feel every inch of him that leaves you before he snaps back in, refilling the emptiness and drawing out a breathy moan from you.

“When the sun goes down, we gonna go back to that joint and kill every last one of 'em.” Your lips on his neck make him moan against your breast as you whisper those words in his ears. 

“We gonna have the family ya’ve always wanted.” You nip at his earlobe, pale as the moon. He rocks in and out of you with whimpers and whines that make you throb around him, feeling every movement and hearing every sigh. 

“Maybe if ya’ fuck me hard enough, you’ll fill me with your babe,” the words sound like a prayer when purred against his lips. Remmick stops moving. He looks down at you for a minute; you worry that you've said the wrong thing until animalistic lust sets into his eyes. Then he's fucking into you, reckless and frantic with desire. The old bed creaks with each thrust. He ravishes you, like a man on his wedding night, desperate and hungry. 

The bed frame groans as it bangs against the withered walls. Your nails scratch along his back, leaving marks that will heal in a day. He grunts, deep and long, as your nails draw blood from him. Your arms shake around his neck, chasing every thrust and craving it. You whisper words of encouragement, urging him to go faster and harder. Your sucking at the flesh of his neck, panting against him as he continuously hits the spot inside of you that leaves you whining against his skin.

Remmick grips your waist hard enough to bruise as he raises you from beneath him, slipping out of you for a minute before lying onto his back and placing you on top of him.

“Show me how you rode my look-alike.” He purred, as he took hold of his cock making it easier for you to sink onto him. You do so, biting your lower lip as he fills you even further than before. You felt drunk, entirely at his mercy, but you reminded yourself that letting him win would be a shame, so you gathered your wits even as you rocked your hips back and forth, rising up and down like you were riding a wild horse.

“He ain’t like you. He made me howl like a bitch,” you cooed as your man growls in response. Below you, Remmick looks completely unwraveled. His hips jolt up, quicker and rougher, as if he's challenging your smug statement. The golden chain on his neck catches your attention as your head lands against him. He whimpers when you pull him closer to you with a yank of the necklace. 

Your rolling hips speed up, arching your back as that special spot inside of you is continuously probed. Remmick holds your waist, helping you rise and fall onto him, his eyes are filled with tears, and his lips spout slurred praises. “This the chain I gave ya’? One I bought you before you begged me tuh’ leave?” He nodded frantically.

“Never take it off.” He groans as you halt your movement. 

“Not even when ya’ fucking them other girls?”

“Nah. Gets me hard, thinkin’ bout’ you.” Remmick’s hand grasps your neck, borderline choking you, but it does not stop your deep inhales. His words send goosebumps across your skin, before you know it, you are shouting praises as your hips grind against him.

Your legs crumble, your climax hitting you for the third time that day. Searing ecstasy washes over you, forcing you to scream Remmick's name as you tighten around him. You slump, your forehead hidden in his shoulder. With a sudden burst of energy, Remmick snaps his hips into you for three more thrusts before his body spasms. You feel heat like never before as he releases inside of you. You lie against him, your thighs weak around his hip bones as you both relax into the bed. He doesn't pull out of you, and secretly, you hope to stay like this until the night returns. 

“Wanna’ do it all again.” You whisper in his ear, fangs dangerously close to piercing it.

“Gimme’ a minute, imma take you on the table next.” Remmick groaned, already plotting every place he would have you shaking for him.

“Nah, I meant the traveling. Been bored with it all for a while. Now, I wanna do it all again with ya’ near me not waitin’ in the shadows.” You tell him as he plays with the curls of your hair, tugging at them gently.

“Fuck it. I’m all yours, Mo Shíorghrá.” Remmick nuzzled into your hair, feeling at peace for the first time in a millennium.

[yoonlyhan]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ in which akaashi keiji is your new editor for your manga... who admittedly likes you

you can't deny that being home alone with a man makes your nervous. but it seems mr. akaashi , your new editor, is harmless. very gentle, calm, and kind.

which is why he makes you nervous.

you were a fairly known manga creator in japan and international. so you were granted to work inside your home and not in the office since it pressures you more working in the office. and you were mostly working alone, with editors coming in and out of your house to check up on your manga and help on some parts.

your lead editor previously was a woman. you were pretty much comfortable working alone with her in your house. until the news that she resigned reached your ears.

turns out she was pregnant and thought it would be the best to focus on their growing family. fortunately, the manga you were working at that time already finished. so there were no conflicts in the scedule.

you were happy for your former editor. you even sends her flowers to congratulate her. but how about you? who's gonna fill in the role of your lead editor?

and that's when the company introduce you to mr. akaashi.

“is there something wrong?” mr. akaashi asked.

you blinked at him. you realized you were staring at him for quite a moment.

“ah, well...” you awkwardly scratched your cheek. “the next scene of this chapter is what i'm still unsure of... i thought of conducting a research about it but i figured i could just ask you.”

both of you are sitting on the floor with the table in front of you have papers scattered on it. pencils, pens, and ink are also on the table. while mr. akaashi is in front of you, writing something.

he raised his hand to fix his glasses. “yeah? what is it then, ms. l/n?”

you glances at the notebook in front of you with the scenes written of the chapter you were currently working on. you've listed the main scenes and you were trying to fill the scenes with words and actions as the written draft.

“how do boys act around their crushes?”

you looked back to him and saw him staring at you. mr.akaashi place an elbow on the table and leaned his face on his palm. he thinks for a minute while his eyes closed and you took the chance to carefully admire his features.

“i agree it was the best choice to ask instead of reearching about it.” he said.

you slides back your gaze at his eyes that was already pointed at yours. “...yes?”

“but i also think that it's different for everyone on how they act around their crushes. considering the personality of your male character, am i the best person for you to ask? i might give out a different answer from what you'll expect, ms. l/n.” he gave out a little smile.

you part your lips, thinking of the personality and the possibilities of how your character acts around people. you absolutely not know how but... your character and mr. akaashi are quite similar.

and you were thinking how you probably... actually took inspiration on your character from mr. akaashi's personality.

“i actually think that both of you are the same. in terms of your personality, that is.” you confessed. ”so i was thinking it would be the best to know some of the real-life situation.”

mr. akaashi stares at you.

you avoids his eyes. “...or ideas. if you have any idea of how my character would act.”

“well, i'm glad you want to get ideas from my experience. i'm sure it will be much helpful for you but i think i'd rather give you some ideas than from my own experience.” mr. akaashi took a sip of water.

you turn your head back at him with widened eyes. “eh? why? do you not have any experience with your crush? on how you act around them?”

...oh shit.

“sorry.” you covered your mouth with your fingers. “if you're uncomfortable telling me, it's fine, mr. akaashi. i understand if it's too personal.” you slightly bow your head at him.

ah, suddenly you missed your previous editor. it's too awkward here with mr. akaashi.

though it had only been 2 months since the both of you are working with each other and the possibilities of having to work more months with each other... you feel like you're making it awkward and less comfortable to work with mr. akaashi.

you'd hate to think he'll feel like that.

“ah, it's alright. it's not uncomfortable.” you heard him say that made you raised your head to look at him.

“rather...” mr. akaashi looks down to the papers, seemingly avoiding my eyes on him. “it's embarrassing.” he said with... reddened cheeks.

“oh no, it's okay! you don't have to.” you assured him, feeling embarrassed as well. ah damn, you can't help but stare at his cheeks. you were feeling you cheeks burned as well from embarrassment. ”...you don't have to.” you coughed out.

do mr. akaashi does this too when he's arround his crush?

mr. akaashi covers his lower face with his hand and was quiet for a while. you thought he would not talk about it again so you awkwardly bit the insides of your lower lip. until he glances at you.

“i only started noticing my self act awkwardly around them.”

you blinked at him. “yes?” you leaned forward, intrested in his answers. you hold a pen as you were ready to write down everything he says.

“mhh... i think i was more gentle with them. as if I don't want her to see her troubled face all the time. i tried helping her as much as i can.” you kept on writing. “i just can't help it but i had this habit of staring at her on times i know she isn't looking. and then i would notice something new about her every time like...”

you stopped writing when mr. akaashi didn't continue to talk. your eyes slides towards his and noticed how deeply mr. akaashi is looking at you.

you stared back at his growing smile. “like how she furrows her eyebrows when she is focused. when she would blinked hard when her eyes are starting to feel dry. when she would eat the last bite even though she's already full so that the food would not be wasted.”

oh... shit.

mr. akaashi smiles more as he tilts his head. “or when her face is immediately red when she's embarrassed.”

you coughed.

“i would just... notice all of it.” mr. akaashi straightened his posture and dropped his hand under the table.

“...correct me if i'm wrong but... do you like me?” you immediately asked.

you didn't want to waste time thinking about mr. akaashi's words since you already noticed how it heavily affects you. you didn't want it to interfere with your work together with him.

mr. akaashi blinks and lick his lips wet. your eyes dropped to it. “i'm sorry... are you uncomfortable?”

“no! it's—” you felt your cheeks hot from your sudden shout. you dropped your head to the table and surrounds your head with your arms.

you were trying to cover your face from mr. akaashi since you felt like you were becoming more obvious.

“i'm not. i was just feeling shy all of the sudden.” you mumbled.

mr. akaashi was silent and that made you nervous. not until you felt him patting your head. “i'm sorry, please don't think much about it.” he said.

“i don't want to interfere with work, ms. l/n. but i do like you.”

you felt your self stiffen. “i thought i was obvious with it...” you heard him cleared his throat. “but you don't have to think about me. i'm not gonna do anything.”

you moved your head to take a peek with him. this time with your brows furrowed.

“you're not gonna do anything?”

he shakes his head. “i don't want to make you uncomfortable, ms. l/n. i'm worried it would affect our work and relationship.”

“even though you like me?”

“even though i like you, yes.”

you hid your face again and breathe out. “it's fine. you can act comfortable with me.” you mumbled.

“i'm sorry? what was that?” he kept brushing your hair.

“it's fine. be comfortable with me, mr. akaashi.” you raised your head and leaned towards him.

“let me see how you act around me.”

he blinks. then avoids looking at me. “... is this for you to get ideas for your story?” mr. akaashi whispers as he covers his lower face again, specifically his reddened cheeks .

you smiled a little. “that as well but i just wanted to see how you are if you're comfortable with me. let's do our well.”

he glances at you, seemingly searching for something. “i'll... make sure to help you, ms. l/n.”

your smile grew wider. “looking forward to it, mr. akaashi.”

i was actually half-asleep when i wrote this djodnc

masterlist ♡

© written by @yoonlyhan. don't plagiarise my content. u will be blocked :x

credits to @anitalenia the wonderful divider ♡

[ultravi0lence14]

Butterfly

sam winchester x angel!reader

1k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: you and sam were complete opposites of each other, and sam had no idea how a gorgeous, pure girl like you could even chose him in the first place.

sam sometimes just stared at you when you weren’t looking, wondering how he got so lucky in finding a girl like you.

you were so sweet, someone sam thought his wretched soul wasn’t worthy of. he’s got demon blood running through his veins, the vessel of lucifer himself. why would you — an angel as pure as snow — even remotely look his way.

that was the funny thing with you angels though. you guys always saw the best in people.

before you touched down from heaven, you had learned the copious stories of the winchester brothers lives. how their mother died, springing them into the hunting life. their tragic upbringing, and how their father raised them poorly. but most importantly, you learned about the youngest.

sam winchester. the boy with demon blood. every angel you spoke to said he was an abomination, but you thought differently.

this wasn’t sam’s fault. he was a defenceless baby, having this curse brought forth onto him by his mother’s actions long before his conception. sam was a victim, a child forced into this life with no say whatsoever; and you felt like the only angel who truly saw it like that.

when you had made it to earth, cordially meeting both sam and dean for the first time, you wondered why your brother’s and sister’s talked so poorly about the man.

he truly was a friendly giant. too sweet for his own good. he cared. about people he didn’t know, his brother especially, and all the strangers he came across on hunts with dean.

watching him console a victim for the first time tugged on your heart strings. he was so kind, so thoughtful and unlike anything said about him up in heaven. it was at that moment you felt your first human emotion. a surge of fondness rushing up your body like bile coming up your throat.

for a fleeting moment, you experienced what human love was truly like.

as time moved forward, you and sam got closer and closer. more often than not, you decided to stay back and research with him instead of going out with dean and cas. you talked with him, learning about his childhood from his mouth and truly understanding the full truth and severity of his life growing up.

the day that he kissed you for the first time was magical, better than the feeling of all angel grace combined. he was nervous, hands shaking as the cupped your face and shyly asking if this is what you wanted.

of course you wanted it. you wanted sam winchester since the moment you saw him, and now you were finally getting what you hoped for.

just as you believed, sam truly was the perfect boyfriend. he was caring and considerate, always willing to drop anything and everything to make sure you were okay. though he was also tough and protective, turning full hunter mode whenever someone bothered you or made you uncomfortable.

one thing you loved was how he spoke to you. he held you at the highest point in his mind, addressing you with the upmost love and respect that he could muster.

because that is how he really saw you. sam in his heart believed that you were possibly the most gorgeous being he’d ever laid his eyes on. you were truly the apple of his eye, and he wouldn’t dream of letting someone as perfect as you go.

he even called you his butterfly. a gorgeous creation of God that flys around and somehow always lands somewhere on him. which was true, because you were a very clingy person.

you two were always holding hands, arms linked, or sam’s arm wrapped around your waist or shoulder. dean had to stop himself from hurling 24/7, and you had to stop yourself from getting cartoonish hearts in your eyes whenever you looked at him.

the peace and serenity that you brought to sam’s life was all he could ever ask for. when you decided to take up drawing and painting, he cherished the times you two would find an empty space, setting down a picnic blanket and drawing whatever your heart desired surrounded by nature.

when he joined you for the first time, and you handed him over a intricately detailed drawing of him sitting down at that very moment, eyes opened and staring woefully at the large trees and flowers surrounding him, he couldn’t help but let a couple tears fall.

“oh no,” you had exclaimed, sitting up on your knees so you could get nearer to him. “you don’t like it, do you?”

he instantly snapped his head towards you, watching as tears filled your bright coloured eyes. his heart shattered staring into your glassy irises, and he cursed himself for ever making you feel like that.

shaking his head and putting down your sketchbook so he could cup your face, sam pulled you over to him so you were delicately perched in his lap. eye’s boring into his as he delicately stroked your cheek.

“i love it butterfly. that is the prettiest drawing i have ever seen. even prettier cause it was made by you.” his cheesy words made you blush, not caring in the slightest how silly you two probably looked to on lookers. with your finger reaching out to trace the slope of his nose, you looked at him with a soft smile on your face, pouring your heart into one look. “you mean that?”

“of course i do.” his eyes held that glossy puppy dog look you loved so dearly, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. “i am not trying to sound cheesy when i say this, but you truly are the best thing that ever happened to me, butterfly. you’re the one of the only one’s who believed in me.”

his words brought a gleeful smile on your face. and as the midday sun trickled across his, you thanked your father for whatever he did to make you and sam come together.

[zoieru]

Half Measures ~

After an accidental and messy reunion with Dazai after two years, you - like you suspected - ended up with your clothes off. But when your tryst had an unexpected imaginary cameo by a friend of yours, you realised some things really never do change - and Dazai and Chuuya's competitiveness really does transcend time and space.

NSFW CONTENT - Dazai my little content warning 𖹭 alcohol mentions, reader n dazai n chuuya grew up together in pm, pm!reader - ada!dazai, droplets of angst, fluffy, cockwarming, f!reader riding, reader had chuuya-sex-tm during the years they weren't together, basically Dazai is competitive and gets off on reader talking about chuuya-sex-tm while they fuck :3 It's sweet really, I promise you. My pussy wrote this while I was sleeping. She kinda a good writer fr. 5.2k~

a/n ~ while I wrote this from my own hyperfixated horny brain, it's come to my attention that this fic is actually very similar to this one written by @/osarina. This was completely unintentional, but if you came across mine first and happen to want a longer exploration of this sort of theme then go read that one after~ it's a super fun idea.

Perhaps if you and Dazai Osamu had a slogan, it would be no half measures. It was the same two years ago, and the same now. While he loved to weave his webs, leaving those none the wiser to find out later that he had a grand plan all along, there, ultimately, was nothing subtle about it.

Your impromptu reunion was no exception. The man had left to become a 'good guy' as it were, two years ago. Even the thought had you huffing breaths of joyless laughter when it crossed your mind as you brushed your teeth. Not because he had no good in him, oh no, he had tonnes of good. Shit covered gold is still gold, right? You'd always seen the gold, always cherished it, reminded him of it when he forgot. That's what you gave to the boys as you grew up in the mafia, dealing with shit storms of violence all day. You were their safe space, their reminder that no matter what they did, were ordered to do, they still had that gold inside. You seemed to find it effortlessly.

Did it mean you weren't mad, though? Mad at Dazai fucking Osamu of all people for being able to weazel out of the mafia at the behest of a dead friend and have a happy good guy life? No it fucking didn't. You were mad, pissed, angry and...heartbroken. but not because he didn't deserve it. Just because...that life wasn't with you.

Now all of this was discussed in no uncertain words, raised voices and snarks and huffs and tears, the last few hours, after you bumped into eachother underneath one of Yokohama's bridges. You didn't think Dazai bumped into anyone. But he seemed genuinely shocked to see you. Your filled out body, your beautiful face that made his heart ache uncomfortably in his ribcage, that scar he knew definitely hadn't been there before. His safe space, the only one that saw all the good, nourished it. The only thing he had never wanted to run from. You, that he left behind in the darkness.

They were a mess, these hours, because of course they were. Words weren't enough to express both your feelings, even if either of you were good with expressing them. But you managed. You had to. Because you never thought you'd see him again, before this.

So that's how you ended up in your apartment. He hadn't seen it, yet. Hadn't met your cat, either, who - despite hating strangers - hopped into his lap happily the moment he sat and curled up as if he belonged there.

Over lumpy throats, tight chests, and a two year old bottle of whiskey, more talking was done. And now you were in his lap.

I think you probably see where this is going, right? No half measures, always some grand finale. The point is, Dazai didn't plan any of this. But you, both of you, even before, even growing up, were never subtle. Always intense and a beautiful gorgeous mess of chaos.

So as you replaced the cat in his lap, clothes strewn across the sofa beside you, his cock nestled deep inside you after a round like it belonged there - like it never fucking left - you couldn't bring yourself to regret it. Even as the hurt feelings lingered. They would, for a while, you knew. He knew. But it didn't change the way you felt about eachother.

Dazai's head was spinning as he came down from your combined high. He could barely focus, fingers still trailing idly over your bare back, tracing patterns mindlessly onto your skin. He hadn't thought he'd see you again either. Not like this. Not anywhere but from an aching distance with you none the wiser.

He just needed you close, needed to keep feeling you, and not let go. He whispered, that hum of a tone you knew used to be reserved for you, soft, gentle.

“You’re...still amazing.”

You chuckled breathlessly as the words reached your ears, planting a soft wet kiss on his neck just above his bandages. Your heart felt warm. Tired, but warm.

"You thought I'd have lost my edge? I've only grown up, Dazai~" you murmured, fond, teasing gently.

He let out a soft scoff, and his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling your lips and breath against his skin.

He shook his head as you spoke, dark hair falling into his eyes a little. “Of course not..” he breathed softly. “You've not lost your sharpness, either.”

It was one of the reasons you just worked. It was as though you spoke in another language, a communication of smartass snark and wit that left others confused and bewildered when they tried with futility to keep up.

He closed his eyes as he spoke again, as close to reverent as the man could get. "I don't think I realised how much I missed your body until now."

The words made you clench a little around him, involuntarily, your walls tightening in a brief squeeze as you were reminded of your position. You let out a soft huff of pleased amusement, fond and sleepy sated.

"Mmh~ Others didnt quite match up?" You weren't sure why you asked, in fact you kinda wished you hadn't when it plopped out your mouth. But there was that lingering anxiety curled up in your chest that would take a while to ease. Thinking about him being with other people while he was gone made your insides writhe uncomfortably, albeit reluctantly, even if his cock was comfy inside you.

He felt the slight clench and let out a soft noise of pleasure, his mouth moving to your neck, trailing kisses on your skin. Each one a tiny message of affection. Of course there were other people. But no one like you. No one ever matched you.

He spoke against your neck, his voice soft and tired. “You know they didn’t.”

Your fingers tightened on his shoulders a little as he trailed a kiss moistened path down your neck, your eyes fluttering closed as you tried to focus on the sensation rather than the thoughts.

Perhaps each kiss was a small apology, for all the pain he'd caused as a result of his actions, his inability to bring you with him, and his incapability to handle contact with you the last two years knowing he'd break if he had.

"It didn't mean anything."

"I know."

Your own language again. Speaking in half complete sentences, picking it up as if he'd never left. You used to find it funny how others used to look at you, seemingly reading each others mind quick fire.

You did know. Your heart still didn't like it, though.

He hummed against your neck, the vibrations gently lulling. He knew you knew. His own heart was conflicted too. Filling the you-shaped void was never successful, of course, even if the physical act itself was somewhat pleasurable.

After a gentle teasing comment about you feeling the same inside, and you wiggling a little on his lap in response, his hands came to hold your waist tighter to keep you still - his dick stirring inside you with the subtle overstimulation.

After a moment, he paused, those brown eyes glinting in the dim light with a subtle hint of mischief and curiosity. "And...what about you?"

You knew what he was asking. Frankly, it was a conversation you'd rather avoid, but you'd been the one to bring it up because you were a dumbass, apparently. You always seemed to lose a few braincells when it came to him. He had too many to count.

You felt a blush creep up your neck a little, no clothes to hide behind, and huffed a bit indignant.

"A...bit. not as much as you, almost certainly," you said with a small chuckle. He always was a bit of a slut.

He chuckled at your blushing, ever finding your flusterment amusing, and his hand slid slowly along your hip. His gaze lingered on your body, taking you in. Re-memorising you. The achingly familiar, yet subtly new, curves and marks.

"You're not going to say who was in your bed while I was away?"

"What, you want a hit list?"

You asked the question rather dryly, raising an eyebrow with amused scepticism. It was a joke...mostly.

He barked out a laugh, and rolled his pretty eyes. You always were a smartass, and he loved that about you.

He gave you a small tap on your hip, and answered dryly, his tone mock-offended. "Yes. Is there a problem with that?"

"A little, sure," you chuckled. "I don't wish to be the cause of death for those who might suffer your wrath~"

His fingers dug lightly into your hips, and he bit back a moan at the way you were moving.

"Oh, come now...you're underestimating my self control," he teased. "You forget, I'm a model citizen."

"Oh yes, how could I forget. You're the good guy now, and I'm the one in the mafia~" the last word was emphasised with a spooky lilt.

He smirked, ever charmed by your sarcasm.

"Exactly. So you shouldn't doubt me, mafia princess~"

It earned him a grumpy huff and narrowed eyes, which was rather undercut by the fact you were cockwarming him while chatting idly.

After a few moments, him nuzzling and running his nose up your neck, he paused and raised an eyebrow at you slowly with a playful curious smirk. "And...a list, is it?"

You blushed again a bit, tucked into his neck, and let out another indignant huff. You really wished you'd kept your damn mouth shut.

"No...not really," you admitted. There weren't many people. It was rather who...

"Come now, you can tell meee~"

Dazai's tone was playful, amused. But he was genuinely curious, he did want to know. You'd said there were others. Who were they? Were they a one night stand or was it a repeat thing? The idea of anyone else touching you made his chest ache a bit, though he was fully aware he didn't have much of a right to it. It was understandable, you were eachothers person.

Another thing about Dazai, he didn't often let things go, especially with you. Realistically, you did not want to have this conversation with him still nestled deep inside your pussy. But this was you two. Stupid and messy and ridiculous.

You sighed, deeply, and looked up at him through your eyelashes, heart doing quick thumps in your chest.

-

"Chuuya."

-

He couldn't say he was surprised. You three had been inseparable in the mafia, and Chuuya - while being a grumpy old chibi about literally everything else - had a soft streak for you a mile wide. But it didn't mean his heart was totally happy with it.

His eyes found yours again. "Chuuya, huh?"

Time to explain.

Your eyes searched his for his feelings, fingers drawing soft and idle patterns on his collarbone.

"Well... When you left we were both pretty shaken, fucked up. We only had eachother, y'know?" You paused for a minute, gaze tracing his face. "His wine might have had something to do with it~"

He was trying hard to keep his expression and his voice steady, his fingers tightening on your skin. The thought of you in bed with Chuuya, touching you, kissing you, having you was making him more than a little possessive.

Still, he couldn't deny that it made sense, that at the time when they were both so in pain, it was only natural that they'd seek comfort in each other.

He gave a soft scoff, his voice still somewhat even. "The drunken hatrack, I must question your taste~"

Your ability to read him was still sharp, despite the subtle rust on the edges from the time apart.

"Don't...be sad about it," you said, softly, lifting a finger to trace down his nose gently. "We all grew up together, explored together, yknow. It was...likely, I guess."

"I'm not sad. I'm just... not thrilled."

He felt a shiver go through him as your finger traced down his nose. The feeling was so familiar, so familiar it hurt. And it was exactly that. They'd grown up together, they'd explored their bodies and the world together. It made sense that they would be together in that time. But it didn't mean he had to like it.

"I know." You said. Soft, reassuring. And a touch guilty, despite it not being a fault or misstep.

"But...he's not the one inside me now, is he?~"

Had you forgotten he was still nestled deep inside your walls while you talked? He almost had, comfortable. But your comment, the discussion, that subtle intoxicating tease to your tone amongst the gentleness saved for him...it made his cock twitch with renewed interest. Your words had inadvertently triggered, awakened, something you knew all too well.

His eyes gleamed in the muted light, and he gave you a devilish smirk. "I'm more interesting than Chuuya, anyways."

He gripped your waist tighter, his eyes darkening in the dim lighting. His fingers trailed up your stomach achingly feather light, and came up to your chest, tracing lazy circles. His touch was more possessive than he intended. Not that he cared.

"I bet I feel better too~"

You made a soft sound of pleasure mixed with exasperation, and rolled your eyes, shooting him an unimpressed look that said 'seriously?' The comment was hot, and so damn him. This guy, honestly. Always the same.

"You're so..." You chuckled. "Ridiculous."

But you hadn't caught on yet, had you. The danger you were walking into? The way his cock started to stir more than before, filling itself slowly as it stayed nestled deep inside you. His smirk grew cockier, cheekier, and he nipped at your neck.

"Ridiculously charming, you mean~"

His fingers wrapped around your waist, tighter. He pulled you down a little further onto himself, sighing a pretty breath through his lips as you felt even tighter around him.

He looked up at you through his eyelashes, his tone turned teasing again. "Don't deny it. I bet Chuuya couldn't make you feel this good."

You let out a soft sound of pleasured surprise as he shifted you deeper, fingers gripping a little tighter onto his shoulders. You were sensitive, having had sex and then cockwarmed him for like 20 minutes already. But it felt so good all the same.

"Dazai, I don't really want to discuss the details of sex with Chuuya while I'm sitting on your dick," you said, as if that wasn't rather obvious.

He let out a soft sultry chuckle, and his hands wandered more, firmer, his touch soft and yet so possessive and greedy. You could hear and feel his breath shake slightly as he breathed you in. He felt needy for your body, for your attention. And this was only making it worse. Or better~

He leaned in and nipped gently at your neck again, his voice a low, teasing tone. "Oh? Why not? Scared I'll out-perform him?"

You whined quietly, hoping this wasn't what you thought it was. You knew that look, those eyes, that voice.

"Are you seriously getting competitive with Chuuya when he's not even here?" You asked, in a little breath, feeling his now much harder cock poke your insides almost playfully as it twitched. It was so him, so them. They just had to one up eachother even if one of them was balls deep inside you and the other had no idea.

He gave you a soft bite, chuckling against your skin. He always loved it when he riled you up a bit, when you got all flustered. And he was getting excited...

His hand slipped under your thigh, fingers tracing along your skin. He rolled his hips languidly upwards and pulled you closer against him deliciously. "I'm just curious, don't get all annoyed~"

He paused. He was deliberately provoking you, poking gently, he just couldn't help himself. He let out a another sigh, a bit of neediness, and his voice was playful - but also serious. "I want to know everything about what you did with him."

That's what gave it away.

Your hand in his hair paused it's idle patterns briefly as the few braincells you had left untouched by the lustful haze rubbed together to realise what was happening.

You pulled back just a little to meet his gaze. His pupils were blown out a bit, brown honeyed pools half lidded and a little hazy with affection but also this conflicted lustful glint, not dissimilar to when you used to see him get a little sadistic.

"Dazai..."

His expression turned just the tiniest bit sheepish, his cheeks lightly dusted with a hint of pink, but his eyes still held that playful glint. He knew what you would say, what you'd ask, what this was. He leaned in again, nuzzling against your neck.

"Maybe~"

You felt the tips of his long fingers trace over the bumps of your spine, down from your nape gorgeously slowly over each one. He knew he was pushing it, but he couldn't help but feel territorial, jealous, thinking of Chuuya. You and Chuuya. And well...he'd always been a little masochistic. "What of it?~ he murmured, giving you a small bite on your shoulder to gently rile you.

You let out a whine at his bite. His words and that beautiful soft melodic tone seeped into you and curled deep in your tummy around where his cock still stuck now achingly hard inside you. He and Chuuya, all three of you, always had tonnes of sexual tension. Among other types. So it wasn't so far off that he could be a bit aroused by this...that you could be a bit aroused by this...

"mph, you're weird," you breathed in a sigh into his neck, your warm breath running over his bare and bandaged skin as you closed your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

He could feel you squirming in his lap, and a soft moan escaped his lips. Dazai's fingers gripped your waist, holding you still. He leaned against you, his body moving to grind his hips up into yours.

His voice was a bit breathless, but there was a smirk to his words. "You already knew that. You always liked it, anyway~"

He couldn't help but be a cocky little bastard, even now. He was feeling playful and way too turned on, and he wanted to tease you a little bit. He knew he was being a bit much, but it was fun.

His fingers retraced their steps and cupped the back of your neck, his teeth lightly nipped at your jaw, and hummed. "It's hot, thinking of you with him."

A soft moan from your lips. A shuddered sigh. A lift and gentle roll of your hips so his cock peeked out just a little to shift back in through your folds achingly slowly. His words were unravelling any reservations you had about this weird mental cuck chair he had himself in. Replaced with arousal curling in your gut and making your skin hot where he touched it.

"mmh, you think so?" You hummed, face turning and burying in his hair. It was ridiculous. A messy heart-aching reunion after two years, hours later ending up like this. But it was so you.

"even if you're jealous?"

As your hips rolled he let out a breathy groan, and he tightened his grip on you. This was crazy. You made him crazy, and the way your body felt against his after so fucking long was making him a bit desperate.

"That's what makes it fun.~"

He could feel you slipping, starting to play along with it. He adored that about you. You'd always put up with and indulged in his little kinks and fetishes as no one else would. You went along with him in just about every aspect of life. It just spurred him on. That's his girl.

"It gets you going too, doesn't it?" He murmured, his lips brushing against your own in a parted smirk. He ran his nose up the side of yours, teasingly. "Thinking about Chuuya touching you..."

A shaky pretty sigh escaped your parted lips, brushing hot against his - eyes fluttering closed. Your mind, at his words, unwillingly but conveniently provided flashbacks of the nights you'd ended up pressed against the wall, red hair tangled in your fingers, leather gloved hands hungrily running over your body as if they couldn't get enough.

"Mph...a little," you mumbled. "He was kinda good, y'know~" A rather gross understatement. Another roll of your hips, languid, achingly slow, cock sliding out just a few inches to press steadily back in. You could play along. Tentatively. Seeing that he was enjoying it.

He felt something tighten in his chest at your words, like something was clutching at his heart a bit, but he was still enjoying himself. He wanted to know the details, wanted to know everything, see it through your eyes.

His fingers dug into your hip, keeping you moving, his own hips starting to respond. He thrusted upwards into you a little harder, his tip kissing your cervix pulling pretty breathy noises from his mouth. He moved his head to your neck again, his favourite place, his nose nuzzling the skin. A soft hum, tone huskier, lower. "Good, huh?"

"Sometimes it was kinda lazy," you murmured into his ear. You could tell he was struggling to muster enough focus to talk, one of the only times Dazai was rendered more speechless. So you did the talking, working with him as he rocked you up and down, your clit touching and sticking gently to his pelvis with each descent. You wanted to give him some more ammo. You didn't mind talking if he was getting worked up, after all.

You bit into his neck softly, leaving a little wet stripe over the sting as your hands drifted over his chest. "But sometimes it was like...pissed off, stressy, aggressive. Y-you know how he gets...if something pissed him off during the day~"

Dazai moaned again as you bit him. Despite the softness of your quickening movements, the languidness, his head was spinning with need. He nudged his nose bridge into your jaw, breath brushing across the skin on your throat. "Oh I know~" He pulled you closer, your breasts against his chest, pressed closer, closer, closer. "A little rough sometimes, too, huh? That sounds like him."

He couldn't help it, the idea sent thrills up his spine. This heady mix of slightly possessive jealous teasing arousal combined with the feeling of you again, a feeling he had missed for fucking years, was driving him a little insane. He wouldn't apologise. He knew you wouldn't ask him to. "mmph...you like rough."

You moaned in response, eyes fluttering closed once more as your hand slipped into his hair, steadying yourself in his sensual rolling that was just as perfect as it was overstimulatory.

"S-sometimes. Ngh - I did more, then. I was pissed that you we-re gone and, pissed a-at mori for making me do your fucking jobs. We got our anger out l-like a-ah that."

His chest ached with guilt, but also with this weird possessive need. He loved you, and he was glad you had someone.

His fingers dug into your thighs as he fucked up into you with a bit more speed, more force. His eyes heavily lidded with lust watched your breasts bounce prettily, your kiss plumped lips apart and panting softly.

"Did he leave any marks?"

You whined as he leaned forward and started kissing along your neck and collarbone with renewed hunger, as if he was determined to leave some along with the ghosts of those Chuuya had potentially left. He didn't care how pathetic he sounded, he needed to know. He was letting this side out, this small masochistic possessive side that wasn't present very often. And he was nothing if not competitive.

"Fu-ahh," your eyebrows drew in at the centre as he shifted his angle ever so slightly to hit deeper, each push of him through your spongey walls making you huff and moan. It was hard to keep talking at this point. But you did your best. "Ngh-he...he liked leaving hickeys on the...nginside of my thighs."

He cursed through a moan into your neck, his mind instantly going to Chuuya leaving those marks there, spreading your legs and trailing his tongue over the flesh. He hated it, needed it. He nipped hard on your neck, as if in response, outdoing him.

He thrusted up harder into you, still sensual rolls but harder, more needy, more hungry. With each one his arms and hands now cradling you, holding you like you were precious and gorgeous pulling you down onto his weeping cock that was nearing its fucking limit. He wanted you shaking and breathless when he was done.

"I bet you looked pretty, all marked up for him."

You whimpered into his mouth. A mess. You were both overstimulated, whiney, breathy messes. But this was you. Never in moderation, never a half measure. Some things never change.

He was close. You could feel it. Hear it in those gorgeous fucking sounds coming from his lips, higher pitched, breathy, into your neck as he rested his forehead there. His long cock twitched over and over, your walls automatically responding by squeezing gently, trying to coax out his high.

He loved your cute little sounds. His brain was mush. "Mmph...f-fuck. You're so-ah-good~". Seeing the ever composed Dazai come undone and needy for you was always unreal. He had one final question, murmured strained and raspy into your skin.

"Did...ngh- did he come inside?"

The mixture of the question, being with him again after all this time, the Chuuya bullshit, and his fingers finding themselves between you, rubbing gorgeous circles on your sensitive nub, had you crashing over the edge and falling into bliss. You whined and buried your face in his shoulder, his arms snaking further around you as he kept the now stuttering pace as you rode out your high, leaking, squeezing his cock. "y-eah...yeah ngh."

That was all he needed. With a broken throaty whimper he felt a hot rush of ecstasy, and release, starting to fill you, spilling into you as he couldn't maintain the rolls of his hips anymore. Your arms came around, still coming down yourself, essentially cradling him as he worked through his orgasm, feeling your tummy warm up with him spilling inside you.

His body was shaking a little, just clinging to you, head buried in your neck with panting breaths slowing with the time and as both your orgasms receded like the tide. His weary and pleased, overstimulated, cock gave a few last gentle spurts as it nestled and softened once more comfortable inside your walls.

He always had been a bit of a mess after sex. You could only take it as a compliment. It made your heart swell with affection wildly, even as the reality of what you both just did came down over you both like a light rain shower.

"Did we..."

"Yeah...yeah, we did." He couldn't help the laugh that escaped him at your question, kissing your neck lazily as his head began to clear and the clouds revealed how ridiculous that was.

He was a little embarrassed, but also didn't care all that much. He rested his cheek on your shoulder as he looked up at you with a sleepy sort of grin. "That might have been a bit much."

You could have burst out laughing, but you managed just a sleepy exasperated chuckle, shaking your head as your hand came to run through your hair. "Yeah, no shit."

He laughed softly, his hand tracing down your spine lazily. He gave you a cocky grin, his expression lazy and satisfied.

"You're going to be feeling that for a bit, I think~"

He sounded rather pleased. Of course. Though he'd probably be sore as well. He pulled you closer, settling you into him as he leaned back against the sofa.

"Suppose I should have gone easier on you~"

That earned him an amused huff across his chest as you settled comfortably against him. You would need to get off soon, deal with the inevitable mess between your thighs. but for a moment you just...wanted to be close to him. seemed like he needed the same.

"I never thought you could... get off on thinking about me with Chuuya." You said, eyes lifting to his with an amused look of curiosity.

He let out a short amused scoff. "I wasn't exactly planning on it."

Dazai didn't really have the energy to try to defend his actions. Though he might not have anyway even if he did. You always did accept him for his quirks, like he did with yours albeit you having less. Safe space, even for this.

A dramatic wistful sigh left his lips. "Chuuya truly brings out the worst in me~"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. He really was ridiculous. Though your expression was filled with rather too much affection to be healthy. You'd had a good time, even if it was freaky.

"We are not telling him about this."

"Definitely not."

The thought was a rather horrifying one. For Dazai at least. The man would never hear the end of it if Chuuya found out that he'd essentially cucked himself in his mind with an imaginary version of him as he fucked you. Even if it was for competitive one-uppery. No thanks.

He let out a soft tired sigh, nuzzling into your cheek affectionately. "Our little secret."

He pulled away a little, eyes lifting to yours with that mischievous glint. "You know... If you ever mention this, I'll be forced to silence you with aggressive and enthusiastic methods. You likely wont enjoy it~"

You huffed, lifting an eyebrow. Two could play that game.

"I suppose I'll have to hold it over your head as blackmail material just in case you get any cute ideas about abandoning me again."

He chuckled at the idea, and his hand drifted up higher, lightly trailing over your ribs. A smirk played at his lips, his tone soft and lightly playful. "As if you could ever get even with me."

Though his expression sobered, then, eyes following his hand almost thoughtfully as it travelled over your beauty he knew so well. "I'm not going anywhere. Not anymore."

At the shift in tone, your heart did a gentle flutter, eyes softening along with it. Though before you could let the emotions linger, maybe say something soft and loving back, he smirked a little.

"Besides...can't go off somewhere and let the chibi have you can I?

Your mouth dropped open in an exaggerated display of offence, and you huffed. Honestly.

"You're such a dick."

"I know~"

"You can't meet me again after abandoning me for two years and then make a joke about you only staying with me to beat Chuuya."

"Why not? You like me when I'm a dick~"

Legend has it people can still hear you bickering around Yokohama at all times of day. You were a chaotic gorgeous ridiculous mess. And you never did anything in half measures.

Thankyou for joining me for...whatever this was >:3 ~ reblogs and interactions are always cherished deep within my soul !! 𖹭

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 2 < Part 1 | COD Masterlist | Part 3 >

Butcher!Simon who is bored. It's a regular day and he just doesn't enjoy interacting with customers. It's just not his thing. The only exception is you but you always come in on tuesday and friday and today is neither. He sighs and grunts when another customer pays and leaves.

Imagine the way he suddenly perks up when he sees you approach the shop. The shop is empty except for him and so he gets the joy of watching you approach, your big ugly mutt on a leash, pacing besides you, never even tugging on the leash, focused on you.

The corner of his mouth twitches upwards when you stop before the shop and chew your lip indecisively rereading the sign that forbids dogs from entering (he loved and hates when you do that, nasty habit, but he wants to be the one to bite your lip instead).

You meet his eyes, that are already trained on you, intensely, and in an effort to not make you more uncomfortable he waves.

Shit did that look too excited? Maybe he can reassure you if he nods at you so you bring the dog in with you?

He nods his head at you. Hopefully you get what he's trying to tell you and don't think he's completely lost his mind now.

And oh, his thoughts come to a screeching halt, when you open the door and enter the shop, your dog at your hip.

Goddamit, Simon nearly groans in frustration. He wanted to prepare dog treats, but he didn't expect you today. How is he supposed to charm you if your brute of a dog doesn't like him?

But he doesn't have time to think more about that because you're at the counter and smile at him. He notices how much more at ease and confident you seem with your calf of a dog with you.

Maybe your dog is your equivalent of his mask.

And suddenly he's nervous. He never cared about the impression he makes on other but man, does he want to get along with your dog. He tries to hide his nerves when he says: "Didn't expect you today." His voice is gruff.

You don't seem as intimidated today, patting the head of your dog and saying with a smile that's audible in your voice (god, what he'd do to be the cause of that smile): "Yeah today is an exception. It's the anniversary of when I got my big baby."

Simon grabs the counter to keep from reaching for you and just snatching you up in his arms. Fuck. What he'd do for you to look at him like that, to call him your big baby. Maybe in his next life he gets to be reborn as your pet.

He nods at you, eyes intensely trained on your happy expression. "May I give him a treat, as an anniversary gift?"

Will you think that's ridiculous? Tell him to fuck off because it aint his business and he's being a creep anyway with the way he can't. Fucking. Take. His. Eyes. Off. You.

Instead you beam up at him and Simon feels something in his chest clench painfully at that. "Yes, of course."

He reaches for a piece of meat and steps out behind the counter. Pretending that he doesn't see the way your eyes widen when he steps closer and you grow more aware of just how broad and big he is. Pretending that he doesn't notice the way your hands clench around the leash tighter.

"He's friendly, just let him take it from you and don't pet him. He doesn't like that.", you say putting a reassuring hand on the back of your mutt.

Simon extends his hand with the meat and tried to read the tag at his collar.

"Easy, boy. Just a treat for you, for taking care of your owner so well."

He's so focused on trying to impress the dog (why is this so nerve wrecking) that he misses the way you bite your lip at the sound of his voice. He's insanely proud that he managed to not say "my love" instead. Doesn't want to scare you off after all.

Your dog takes a step forward, sniffs his fingers for a tense minute and then gently takes the meat from his hand, chewing it loudly making a pleased rumbling sound.

Simon feels like he won the lottery.

"Good boy.", your voice rings out and now it's not only Simons chest that clenches but something deep in his stomach as well, something delicious and needy.

His eyes meet yours and he feels like he's doused in cold water when he sees you looking at the dog.

You were talking to the dog. Of course.

[yanderestarangel]

So I saw a MSFW picture of Miguel and I had an idea.

Stepfather Miguel x FTM reader. The plot is that stepfather Miguel has been possessive and obsessed with his ftm stepson and the stepson actually enjoyed the older man’s attention.

The main smexy part is that Miguel asks his stepson to give him a pink desert. The reader thought Miguel meant a cake until Miguel pushes him on the kitchen counter and starts eating out his pussy (the pink desert was the readers cunt.)

- 🍒 anon. (You don’t have to do this request if it makes you uncomfortable! Love your works.)

TW: SMUT, EAT OUT, DIRTY THOUGHTS, CHUBBY/DAD BODY MIGUEL, FTM READER, BRAIN ROT, HANDJOB, STEPFATHER X STEPSON.

I think it's cute when anons use emojis to identify themselves (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

art credit @/marmar0u on twitter (X)

Miguel was a man of forty-three years old, with a poorly groomed beard and some white hair in his locks ─ despite his tall stature he already had a "dad body" physique with a protruding tummy and some rough muscles in his arms and thighs... And now he had entered your family. You didn't like the idea of ​​having a stepfather at first, but what was supposed to be a bad relationship became like a balm for your stressful days.

It was common for the older man to spoil you with expensive gifts like perfumes, clothes and everything you asked for or wanted; your desires were his desires too. Honestly, it seemed like he was more attached to you than his own wife. Miguel protected you from everyone who tried to go against you and you could always count on his soft lap and good hugs at the end of the day. Your stepfather loved having you in his arms, close to him... In his control.

It was obvious to outsiders that Miguel was a man obsessed with you, possessive and jealous. No man or woman could come close to his beloved stepson ─ he used manipulation, threats and even money to keep you all to himself, especially being the only father figure you had in your life. Bringing you close to him with praise for every little thing you did wasn't difficult, especially when you cooked for him.

In the distorted head of your dear stepfather, every dish made for him was a preparation for you to be his little husband one day, perhaps when he would have enough courage to ask for a divorce from your mother; but until then he liked to have control of his body and mind.

── That was supposed to be an ordinary night, the warm afternoon gloom still hung in the air as you walked around the house to prepare dinner since your mother had gone out to visit some of your relatives. You obviously preferred to stay in the company of your stepfather Miguel, who was drinking some beer in the living room armchair and watching every move you made around the kitchen.

He had controlled himself a lot in the last few days and gave you more personal space than he should have, making you even meet new people. Jealousy consumed every fiber of the tanned man's being, leading him to have a simple idea to put you in your place.

"You know boy, I wanted you to make a pink dessert would you give me?" His voice came out hoarse as you watched the older man stand up to his full height, as you saw him smirk mischievously, his adam's apple bobbed visibly, desire pooling in his voice.

You initially agreed innocently, already getting ready to get the ingredients and make a strawberry cake, but soon you felt thick calloused hands on your wrists as he bent you under the cold marble counter and pulled down your shorts along with your underwear ── exposing the pink flesh of your pussy, while you felt his breath mixed with expensive drink. Miguel savored the sight of your exposed little cunt, his hunger growing with each passing second. He lowered his head further, capturing your clitoris between his lips and flicking it gently with his tongue.

"Oh, you taste delicious mi hijo," he moaned against your flesh, suckling and nibbling at your sensitive bud. His hands gripped your thighs harder, spreading you wide open for his pleasure. He paused momentarily, admiring the pink folds of your sex before delving back in, eager to explore every inch of you. His tongue darted inside, teasing and probing, causing your hips to buck deliciously.

"I could eat you out all night, boy... Does it feel good? Is this what you wanted, baby boy?" His fingers dug gently into your thighs, seeking permission with his gaze. As you nodded regardless of whether it is right or wrong he dove back in, licking and sucking your clit with renewed vigor, savoring the taste of you. His tongue danced around, teasing your folds and driving you further into pleasure.

He growled low in his throat, responding to the dominance behind your request. His fingers bit into your flesh harder, claiming ownership as he devoured your pussy. Each thrust of his tongue was a claim, each suckle a promise. An intense heat surged between us, fueling the connection and burning brighter with every pass.

He thrust blindly, driven by a newfound ferocity. The sweetest sound escaped your mouth-your pleas for 'papi'-and he used it to feed his hunger. His free hand reached for his erection, stroking it through his boxers ─ "So you enjoy being ravaged by your papi, mi pequeño?" Miguel purred, his grip on his cock tightening as he watched your reaction.

Each stroke matched the rhythm of his tongue, mirroring the passion between you both.

Every time he swirled it around your clit, his shaft leapt in his hand, pulsating in sync. His tongue lashed at your most sensitive spots, eliciting fresh moans from deep within you.

The combination of stimulation left you gasping under his careful touch; Miguel was determined to send you high... A desperate need to please, to dominate, consumed him entirely. His beard scraped against your skin with each frantic movement, adding another layer to the sensations engulfing you.

His tongue lashed at your clit, twirling it one last time to push you over the edge. His hand pumped furiously, matching the intensity of your release. Watching you climax drove him wild, a surge of pure hunger coursing through him. He pulled away reluctantly, leaving your pussy wet and quivering from the attention. With a final, satisfied stroke, he came undone, splattering onto his stomach. A growl resonated in the air as he relished the view of your satisfaction.

His chest rose and fell heavily, his gaze locked on your flushed face. Victory and possession painted across his features, a silent declaration of his newfound control. Your stepfather leaned down to kiss your dripping slit, a quiet congratulations for reaching a peak only he could provide.

"Next time, it'll be my turn mi hijo... Thanks for the dessert."

[muqingslover]

[ I absolutely adore Caleb and recently I've entered my Zayne era so today I want to talk about their relationship. (not based on canon just the voices in my head) ]

Yes they might have their issues but I wouldn't say they outright hate each other's guts. I believe they would actually be really good friends if their feelings for you wasn't part of the equation. Their dynamic works out sooooo good for one another if it wasn't for the conflict of interest it actually pains me that we won't see them getting along GRAAAH Infold I beg of you give me content of them together

Like I've mentioned before I like to think that their beef is mostly one-sided which, to me, means Zayne would be the more "mature" of the pair. He has a naturally caring nature so despite being aware Caleb doesn't like him (and they're technically competing for your heart) he can't help but worry about him, especially because you care about him.

Each time boy wonder showed up with bruises and scratches from practice or some other endeavor Zayne would force him to sit down and let him take a look by using the argument of "Do you want them to worry? Then sit. I'll make it quick."

Another sweet thought is Zayne coming over after his classes and finding you and Caleb dozing off while studying together. He would cover both with a blanket and remove anything that could interfere with your or his sleep (music playing, turning off the TV, glasses ECT)

Meanwhile Caleb reads him better than anyone. He may complain about how Zayne is so "stone faced" the whole time, but he KNOWS exactly what he's thinking and feeling for most of the time without even really trying. It's a skill he picked up while growing up — He always paid so much attention to the details for your sake that at some point he ended up getting very good at reading people in general.

What this means you may ask? Well my lovelies, Caleb is much more confident in expressing himself and he knows how to refuse requests he feels uncomfortable with or simply don't want to do (safe it for when they're about/from you) but Zayne not always can do that. In fact, during his early years, he was absolutely terrible at it and guess who came to rescue? That's right, our boy wonder.

"Please Zayne, just cover for me one more time?"

'...Oh, alrig—"

"Whoa whoa hold your horses! Sub-Zero has plans with me so no can't do, man."

"We don't—"

"Shush. Grab your things, let's go!"

He tells himself it's only because if Zayne worked himself to death then you would be worried about him and Caleb doesn't want to share any more attention than what he already has to. It's true of course, but not the full truth.

Caleb will pick up where he can't fully express himself by understanding what he wants without words while Zayne will be the rock he could lean on even if he is too stubborn to admit he needs the support because he doesn't feel the need to be the "perfect gege" like when with you.

[ I will continue to push the Zayne and Caleb agenda so come along for the ride pookies 🤭 ]

[dipperscavern]

jon snow brainrot rn.

like imagine finding him after the whole thorne execution, post-death and post-revival

i need to hold him so bad🙁🙁 in spite of the horrid crawl of his skin, hair at his nape standing on end, urging him avert his gaze as you approach, he can't help but seek your soft stare, his own eyes weak with feeling, brows curved with vulnerability. and his heartbeat is quickening, and his breathing grows sharp

his hand trembles and no matter how desperately he tries to hold fast, he crumbles when you near, raising a hand to his cheek; warm and soft and tender. his breath hitches violently in his chest and his head falls to the crook of your neck, his silent sobs disrupting the quiet with small soundless gasps

and you hold him close, with a gentleness he deserves that he'd never before recieved, a hand in his curls and the other a firm warmth on his back as he helplessly leans his weight on you to finally release the overflow of agony he'd all but drowned in 🙁🙁🙁

SWEET BOY, I NEED TO HOLD HIM💔💔

SONGBIRDS — JON SNOW

pairing: jon snow x fem!reader, 3.1k words

synopsis: the ask above <3

authors note: ouh this was a rough one! i did in fact steal sentences from this ask, so thank u anon!! i love u!! become a writer!! thank u to my febu frongers @useralba & @eldrith for helping me not lose my sanity over this, love y’all!! enjoy i guess 🙄(if possible) (i’m gonna be quiet now)

SNAP

you’re brought out of your thoughts with a jolt, startled so badly you near fall out of the tree you’ve found sanctuary in. that doesn’t sit well with you, you’ve always been steady.

so was bran, a small voice whispers. so was he, another part of you agrees — and the one it mentions has naught to do with climbing.

was, your mind echoes bitterly. it seems like everyone who once surrounded you is only that anymore, a was. a whisper of the past, faces seen nowhere but in living memory; and now, he has joined them.

fresh tears roll down your cheeks, and you wipe them as soon as they join the conversation of grief. bitterness — mourning — desperation, all cradling you at once.

you readjust your form, limbs beginning to fall asleep from the tight position they’re in. if only you could do the same. it seems the gods have deemed you unable, as every time your eyes droop, you see the face of the lord commander.

the mere thought of him is paining, and the sight of him was entirely too much to bear. so much so that you fled, the memory squeezing uncomfortably at your chest.

his eyes, once ever-expressive, dulled to nothing but an expressionless saccharine blur. lips parted, yet no air being brought in to fill his lungs. the snow beneath him was stained a bloody crimson, and you can almost feel the familiar cold of the icy ground beneath your knees as you kneel beside the form of the man you love.

at first, you had cried. whispering pleas to whomever would listen, clutching any part of him you could reach — you had even attempted to stop the bleeding. stupid, stupid girl.

then, it seemed to occur to you that you were touching death. slowly removing your hands, looking down at the lifeless body of jon snow. and just like that, repulsion had entered your veins. no — rejection.

you rejected this. you rejected death, you rejected the finality you had been dealt. you had stood, clutching your bow, arrows lightly jostling from the movement. hunting.

you had been hunting while jon was dying.

if only time had dealt you a mercy, perhaps you would’ve made it back in time. to save him, or just to say goodbye, you’re not greedy in your wishing.

you glance to your hands, still stained with his blood. suddenly, your eyes flutter shut as you see the image of his body again — his wounds smoking in the cold nights air. it feels like a lifetime ago. rejection has long since abandoned you, leaving bitter acceptance in its wake.

you blink, eyes threatening tears, and your gaze finds the white and red blur of a weirwood tree. you return to the woods to escape, yet the gods find you anyway; what cruel mockery.

how could they, yet again? don’t they see all you lose? they must, you think, as they’re the ones who keep taking. is that the only joy a god may find? maybe now, that’s why you hunt; to send them a life as sick compensation for the one they took. what an acidic dance.

CRACK

this time, when a twig breaks, you are not so foolish as to think it only by coincidence. you aren’t the only hunter out here — yet you did not think to find yourself as prey.

whatever stalks you is enough to bring you out of the cynicality of grief, snapping you into a different mindset. though previously unsure how much more you can withstand, your body proves otherwise, flawless in its transition and execution.

you heart increases its rhythm, surefire in its performance, allowing extra blood flow and oxygen to be pumped to your aching muscles. your breathing changes, now quick and rapid breaths to take in more air which prove effective as you shift yourself from your sitting position.

you had chosen not the tallest tree, but the thickest and most concealed. it gives more room for stability, allowing you to exercise your position; a small decision you now are thankful for as you move forward, outstretching yourself on its thick limb to try and catch glimpse of whatever it is that seeks you.

unfortunately, the concealment that hides you does its job too well. you try to peer through the branches and leaves for what feels like ages, but they prove too thick. you curse under your breath, withdrawing from the branch to retreat back to the trees trunk once more.

closing your eyes, you listen. the gust of wind, the rustling of leaves, a raven cries in the distance. you wait.

there — your ears are graced with the light chirp of birds, in your own tree and in others nearby.

“If danger is near, the birds don’t sing.”

ned starks voice rings through your ears, so loud and clear that for a moment, you almost lose concentration. if asked why, you’d never be able to directly say why your eyes didn’t snap open, why your head didn’t swivel around, looking for the source of the voice you’ve heard. can you and the gods share a secret, if it’s one they decide not to include you on?

as the melody of songbirds continue, you shift to begin your descent.

in any other scenario you would stay in the tree, concealed by its branches until the threat was certainly gone. but things are different. jon is dead — you seek a fight. (do you, or do you refuse to allow the stranger your soul as well?)

the decision made, even in grief, isn’t a rash one. whatever it is isn’t nearby enough to silence the singers, and this may be your only window of opportunity to flip the coin; restoring yourself as predator, not prey.

your feet hit the ground, and you wince at the noise made. it’s midday, so you cannot hope for nightfalls rescue of concealment.

you pause, peering around you while you allow yourself a moment to think. your hunting grounds have always been the forest that surrounds castle black, and you had retreated to the very edge of it. your hunter has come from the north — funny enough, from the direction of castle black itself. if you’re careful, you can make a loop back east, foregoing your usual trail. swallowing your nerves, you begin to move your feet.

your senses are heightened, alike to how they are in battle, but this is different. instead of blood pulsing in your ears, they’re attuned to every sound, no matter how minuscule. the smell of blood and death is replaced by nature, the scent of oak & pine leaves fighting to not be smothered by the cold.

you don’t make much progress before you turn a corner and yelp in surprise, being met with a hulking figure, red eyes boring into you.

“Ghost—!” you shout; in surprise, frustration, and relief all at once. your breathing heavies, heart now beating wildly, ready to supply you should you need to run at a moments notice. then, somehow, you’re smiling. you smile at ghost, at the birds, who didn’t notice him enough to quiet themselves, and the childness of it all. you kneel, shouldering your bow and outstretching an arm.

ghost seems like he’s been waiting for your action, stepping forward immediately. you register his willingness — had he been searching for you? or did he find jon dead and left, as you did, finding you accidentally? if only he could speak; the phantom of a thousand words.

he’s soft under your hands, a small comfort parading in the wake of sad relations. and suddenly, you feel guilty. how long has ghost been by jon’s side? how fierce, the loyalty the direwolf has shown him? how fierce the devotion jon had shown him in return? he mourns alongside you, grief arguably more substantial, as he was given no explanation. how could he understand such matters?

an idiot thought, you're quick to push it away. you both have every right to grief, there is more than enough to go around.

eventually, ghost pulls away, and begins padding in the direction to castle black. you think he means to be solitary, but after a few paces, he stops, turning to look back at you. expectant.

though your breath hitches and grief nags at you once more, you swallow it down, and begin to follow the only remnant of jon snow — a piece of him that the gods saw fit to leave you. what cruel mercy, coming from the same hands of injustice.

though content to wallow in your anger, your disbelief, you refuse to allow the direwolf to return to castle black alone. strangely, the farther you follow him, the more you get a sense of deja vu. it can’t be more than a few minutes before you see a tree with bark missing, torn off and left bare its left side, which is now your right. a mark you had left to remember your trail. ghost has tracked your scent from castle black.

with the realization arises conflicted feelings, as if they can’t agree on how you feel. loyalty rings faintly in the back of your mind, the things done for love.

you forcibly close your mind, numbing yourself as to be fully in the present. you’ll have the rest of your days to dwell on it; but only now are you here, in the company of trees and wolves and birds, oh how they sing.

and suddenly, the melody is quiet.

time itself has been stopped, halted in its tracks. there’s no rustling of branches, of leaves, no sound of birds, no sound at all — the world has become inaudible.

you and ghost mirror each other in the ways you both lurch to a halt. a sick feeling infects your gut, hairs rising on the back of your neck, and the instinctual need to flee almost takes over. but something keeps you there, rooted to your spot, feet unmoving. what anchors you, is another secret between you and the gods; another peculiar joke that you stay the punchline of.

then, after a moment, a gust of wind graces the forest. it blows your hair, rustles through the trees, and almost hesitantly so, the birds begin their song again. ghost looks back at you, surveying as if this is the first time he’s seen you.

he begins to lead the way once more, but a thought still lingers in the back of your mind, and you’re unable to shake off the unease in your gut. what has dismantled the harmonious balance among living things so?

━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━

he wakes with a gasp.

━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━

it must be hours later when you approach the gates of castle black. one of the guards on watch takes notice, shaking the other awake. as they both stare down at you, you wonder.

are they close enough to see the mourning that rests forefront on your face? were they the same men who opened the gate for you upon your return last night, only to do the same thing minutes later after you found jon? do they feel guilty? should you?

the wooden gates protest opening, loud creaks and groans as it gives you access, and at first, you don’t see it.

at first, you walk in, and your gaze is trapped on the ground, lost in thought. you’ve come back empty handed, as you came back to jon — or rather, his body. but you don’t think anyone was expecting a stag draped across your shoulders. amidst the unexpected.

when you finally do look up, you’re startled for the ? time today. four men hang in the middle of the courtyard.

you stop in your tracks, but this time, ghost pads on ahead of you. he stops not for anybody, curving them all to fair left. the direction to jon’s chambers.

you don’t have long to dwell on the wolfs mistake, as peoples eyes find your frozen figure. among them, friends; edd, grenn, pyp, others you don’t recognize. some, not dressed in black. wildlings. you begin to walk forward, and a tall, ginger bearded figure spots you. tormund walks to meet you, an expression on his face unreadable — unable to be identified by your tired eyes.

confusion — surprise — apprehension — curiosity; all fight for their seat at the forefront of your mind, but they’re forced to share.

as you and tormund find each other, you glance past him at the hanging men. then to your left, expecting to see ghost still scratching at jon’s door — but he’s not there. was he shooed off? did you misread his intention?

“I don’t— what’s…” you start, but don’t finish. how could you even begin?

tormund reaches for you, hands settling on your biceps. whether he’s keeping you in place or checking for injury, you don’t think you care. the weight and warmth of the gesture is welcomed.

“Tormund, you’re scaring me—” your admission wouldn’t usually come so easy, but you can’t be bothered to guard yourself. you’re exhausted, your muscles are stiff, you’re confused, and you hurt.

he only turns you toward jon’s chambers, pointing, a hand on the small of your back. “In there, little bird.” he says, and you wish to tell him what a help he is. but you don’t. for some reason, you bite your tongue, sparing a last glance at him, before slowly making your way over.

all of the eyes on you make you nervous, and frustrate you all the same. why do they all act like they’ve seen the father?

it doesn’t take long for you to reach the door, curiosity guiding your step. you see ghosts muddied paw prints on the wood, but they don’t turn left or right — ending at the chamber door. your brows furrow almost instinctively. you can’t help but linger on the thought, setting your bow & arrows to lay nearby; your shoulders welcome the reprieve. with bated breaths, you push on the wood, stepping inside. what you find is beyond even your wildest imaginations.

what you find is jon’s head turning to look at you, and you can’t help the sharp inhale of air you take.

his bottom half is clothed, but his upper is uncovered, torso wrapped in bandages; covering the stab wounds that you know took his life.

you think him a hallucination, mind willing his fate to change so desperately it has conjured up its own delusion. but you glance to ghost, dutifully curled by his feet, and shift to turn, looking at the paw prints that led you here.

you turn back to (jon?), closing the door behind you. while your own flickers to ghost once more (an affirmation), jon’s gaze remains fixed on you. you inch closer, surveying him.

his eyes, now encasing life — not quite the same as you knew, but life nonetheless. lips, parted, as to suck in air to fill his lungs. lungs that in return, work in correspondence with his heart, beating to keep him alive.

no. this can’t be…

but it is.

he’s rigid — uncomfortable, yet a part of him fights to relax in your presence. how can it all be so unbalanced and so right all at once? you’re here. you’re all he’s ever wanted. but a part of him keeps him withdrawn, fighting him on reaching out for you.

perhaps it’s the horrid crawl of his skin, urging him avert his gaze as you approach. even so, he can't help but seek your gentle stare, his own eyes weak with feeling, brows curved with vulnerability. you see it as you close in — the turmoil within himself.

a different part of him wins, and he reaches for you. you’ve been waiting, it seems, and reach for him with equal fervor. his hands are cold on your waist, strikingly so. your eyes widen, disbelief written on you like ink on parchment.

you had not expected to feel him. no, you expected for him to vanish underneath your very fingertips.

one of your hands find the bare skin of his torso, experimentally reaching out. jon is hungry for your touch, offering any part of himself for your taking. he has craved you desperately ever since he awoke.

he watches, patient as you register the warmth underneath your hand. there’s blood circulating through his veins. your pupils blow wide in the realization.

you’re anxious for more assurance, your right hand moving to his forearm to keep him in place (jon wouldn’t dare to move), as your left finds his chest. specifically — the part of his chest that keeps safe his heart. you feel it beat underneath your palm, and your reaction is immediate, eyes fluttering shut.

if he didn’t want to be touched, jon would’ve shied away from you by now. but he hasn’t. no, his eyes bore into you with the attention only divine beings receive

jons breathing heavies in anticipation, expectant. he gauges every ounce of your reaction, waiting for your evaluation of him — as a sinner would their god. is he worthy? do you deem him so?

when your eyes open, something clicks into place. jon is here, in the now, alive and breathing; your fingertips said so themselves. you don’t know how, but you can’t find it in yourself to care much in the present, not when you finally have him in your hold once more. what you would’ve given for this, hours ago in your tree. what wouldn’t you have given?

and now, your eyes roam over every part of him, drinking in all that you can. your gaze trails fast, mapping the expanse of his shoulders, down his arms, to his torso, across his bandages again.

your hand removes itself from his chest, only momentarily, but jon chases your touch all the same. you can’t bear to leave him wanting, sliding a hand up his shoulder, feeling the lithe muscle beneath it. you’re desperate to ground the feeling of him, to commit it to memory — and jon seems equal in his need.

you hand stops it’s ascent when it reaches his neck, cradling the juncture of it, thumb smoothing over the soft skin of his cheek, as you meet his gaze. your touch is warm and soft and tender, and in an instant, his eyes are watery. the hands on your waist tremble, and his breaths turn shaky in an attempt to hold himself together. his brows pull together, and his breath hitches violently in his chest. something stirs in you at the sight, the expressions of a broken man.

jon has passed your test of realism with flying colors, and when he realizes, he crumbles.

his head falls to the crook of your neck, closing the small distance between you. you’re quick to wrap your arms around him, and jon’s immediate in pulling you closer — as close as you can get. the tears begin their flow easily, releasing the buildup of emotions harbored from death snaring & absolving him; akin to poison swallowed and retched before fully digested.

your touch is gentle, a hand in his curls and the other a firm warmth on his back. he leans himself into you, almost helplessly so, as if he couldn’t stop himself if he tried. you accept his weight with open arms. if jon was asked why he fights so desperately, even in times it seems hopeless, he would say to repay the gods for their gift to him; you.

the only things that disrupt the steady quiet that surrounds you are his silent sobs, accompanied by the small soundless gasps that flow from his lips as a river of melancholy.

his grip is tight; he drowns in a vast sea of agony, and you alone are his anchor.

[docwritesshit]

Hello! I hope you're doing well and taking care of yourself today/tonight. I was wondering if you could do pregnancy/parent headcanons for Sun Wukong, Macaque, and MK (separate) of how they would be as dads. Like how they would take the news of their S/O being pregnant, how they would be throughout the whole pregnancy, and what fun things they would do with their kiddos. If you feel uncomfortable with this, that's totally fine

I feel like I’ve done these guys with kids but I could be entirely wrong

ANYWAYS

The Monkey boys with a Pregnant!SO and how they are with the kids!

Wukong

This man is over the moon when he first got the news

Immediately goes overboard in decorating for the babies nursery

I feel like it takes him a few days before he goes “… wait. Shit”

Because this man has aloootttt of enemies. And they are all not above harming innocent parties

So he’s taking every precaution there ever is

Barely lets you leave the mountain by yourself. Either him or someone else has to accompany you

Is constantly holding onto you, even more than usual

Can only sleep with you in the same bed, even more than usual

When your showing more and the baby is moving, good luck going anywhere by yourself

“Wukong-“ “Shhhhhh, I can feel ‘em kicking”

Will not ever miss when the baby is kicking, he swears he will witness every single one

When the baby is actually born, he is not leaning that little angels side

I feel like he is SUCH a girl dad. Idk why

Is mesmerized by every babble and smile with his kid.

Honestly, I feel like he enjoys tea time with his daughter. Pinky will be out and proud as he sips his ‘tea’

Macaque

Do not be surprised to see and extra shadow following you around for a bit

You’re very curious so you ask him about it

“Just trying to protect my kin”

… excuse me, THE FUCK-

After an explanation and you going off on him for not telling you (legit he thought you knew already), you just let the shadow be

Be ready to just see a baby room just fucking appear in your house.

You’re not even showing yet and this dude already has a stock pile of diapers and bottles and wipes and all the things

Over prepared ass mfer/pos

As soon as the baby is born, attached to the hip this one

Cannot get this man to put yalls child down. He is constantly hold them

(I keep wanting to say her. Why are they both girl dads? Who knows)

Can and will throw hands with the baby while they are out and about

MK

Shocked. Gob smacked

He is starting at the wall for a good few minutes

Then he is all over you, giving you all the love he can

You can see him drawing in his sketchbook a lot more

His excuse? “Just trying to capture that glow”

God he is ENAMORED with your growing body. Has to always be touching you in some way or form

There’s also anxiety with him

He can only imagine how he can handle a child while also being Wukongs successor.

Is trying so so hard to be with you and the kid but GOD THE VILLAINS ARE FUCKING ATTACKING HIM

When the kid arrives, he enjoys just drawing with em in the room

Sometimes he tries to draw what they will look like when they grow up. He hopes they atleast get your eyes

King of Daddy- Kid dates while you get some me time. None of them would say no to spending time with your kid while you go and do your own thing but MK especially loves it

That’s all I got

[battlekidx2]

“Do you like girls?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you like boys?”

“I don’t know. I think I like TV shows.”

I remember when I was in middle school all the other girls were talking about the guys they liked and I said I didn’t like anyone. I just wanted to do my own thing.

I didn’t really get why I would want to date anyone. I understood friendship, companionship— having someone to share my interests and mutually info dump to sounded cool— but I struggled to understand the appeal of spending every day and every night with someone else. Of holding hands and going on dates. 

This led to a lot of homophobic bullying and a few of them would act disgusted that I might be into them. Constantly acting like I was looking at their boobs and sexualizing them (I never made eye contact with anyone and would frequently look at the wall or space out while looking in their general direction). Or make a big show of not being interested and many other things.

I didn’t get this either. I didn’t know why I would be interested in any of them. They treated me poorly and I thought attraction was something people made up and simply just claimed to feel towards other people.

Just like I never understood celebrity crushes. You don’t know the person so how could you possibly know you liked them? And I never understood how people “chose” who they dated. Did they just choose whoever they liked hanging out with the most?

But any time I voiced this it was always met with worse and worse reactions. It led to isolation among peers and my family. My parents made it pretty clear I wasn’t who they wanted me to be. That I wasn’t normal.

I soon learned to fake it. Pretend I understood it.

The idea of not being attracted to anyone seemed like a foreign idea to most people I met. Even when I branched out and moved away, I met a few people in the lgbt community who couldn’t grasp it either and reacted poorly and it made me feel stupid. Like maybe I wasn’t just screwed up to people who fit in the neat little box society wants you to fit in, but to everyone else as well.

Maybe I was wrong. If it’s an impossibility even in this community that champions diversity and acceptance then can that really be my reality?

I kept trying to force it. To date, but every time I did I always felt that same skin crawling discomfort and it always petered out. It didn’t matter who it was or what gender. It always felt wrong. It was suffocating.

I don’t think there’s a movie that better portrays that all consuming, suffocating stagnation of feeling so out of place– knowing you’re out of place compared to those around you– and in response forcing yourself to fit what other people expect of you than I Saw the TV Glow.

Whenever I think back to growing up or whenever I return home that same feeling this movie is centered around always drenches my experiences.

And even now it’s hard to put into words when I talk to other people what I’ve felt when it comes to this aspect of my life.

That comment from Owen about knowing there’s nothing there when talking about romance and attraction, but being too afraid to look and knowing that his parents know something is wrong with him hit harder than any other scene from a movie I’ve watched this year.

It’s that absence of something that is at the heart of asexuality that makes me always question what I choose to identify as when I have to explain it to someone. Because for the most part my explanation boils down to (in broad oversimplified terms): I’ve never felt attraction, I’m more interested in watching a Spider-Man movie than I’ve ever been into even just the idea of dating, every time I’ve attempted to date it’s been uncomfortable and I’ve actively dodged anything beyond friendship while in the “relationship”.

And when I try to voice that to another person it always feels like those experiences don’t hold water. That’s describing the absence of something. There’s no real proof of the identity.

With being bi or gay or lesbian there’s something you can I don’t know—point to?— that can help you know your identity.

And that’s the fact that you’ve experienced attraction towards one or more people of one or more genders.

It’s defined not by the lack of something but the presence of an experience.

And so every time I try and explain it I end up feeling stupid. Like I just haven’t tried hard enough to find someone compatible. That I need to get back into the proverbial saddle and try again. I always in some way feel ashamed and backtrack as a result.

This is in no way to say that it’s harder or easier to be one identity or the another. Everyone’s experiences are different and everyone experiences are valid. This is just a struggle I’ve found that’s unique to asexuality that many people I’ve talked to have also experienced.

I haven’t felt that part of my experience be seen in media until I saw this movie. Maybe I’m latching onto what I can get or maybe that was an intrinsic part of the movie. That’s not important. What’s important is that it’s something I felt seen in even if it was literally just one scene.

This is my really long winded and roundabout way of saying that I really think this movie is going to stick with me much longer than any other thing I’ve seen this year.

Things can be hard to put into words and as a result I tend to keep things inside. I’m fairly certain I’m ace but it might turn out I’m on a different romantic spectrum then I thought or I fall somewhere different than I thought on the ace spectrum. I don’t know what I’ll discover in the future.

I’m likely not going to express my label out loud to anyone but a select few. I still can’t express this particular label out loud to many people. My family is definitely never going to hear it. A friend or two might.

It’s something I struggle with on a regular basis. I’m fine with identifying with the label in my head—in a lot of ways it makes me feel comfortable and happy— but any time I try to voice it the words die in my throat and I can’t help but feel ashamed. It’s easier to just tell people I don’t want to date right now. That there are all these factors in the way (finances, time, jobs, etc) than it is to try and explain what I’ve just rambled about above.

I know many people have felt and understood that experience and I hope people know they’re valid. You can express your identity with your full chest, shout it from the rooftops and let people know, or you can keep it to yourself, identifying as your label solely in your head. Both experiences are valid. And if your label changes at some point in your life that doesn’t make what you chose to identify as at this point any less valid too. People are always learning and growing. You can gain a new understanding of yourself as time move forward.

Sorry for the way too long ramble. This movie made me feel things.