#a touch of (march) madness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

syluss-littlecrow · 5 months ago

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release

where both you and Caleb end up doing more than butt heads about his given curfew for you.

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, mutual pinning, mutual obsession & possession, jealous!Caleb breeding kink, multiple orgasms, a lot of cum..., perverted!MC, friends to lovers?, squirting, unprotected sex, morning sex, pure Caleb brain rot, it gets pretty nasty

a/n: Caleb, Caleb, CALEB XIA YIZHOU 😭😭 the way I've been giggling over Caleb while watching his story and going back to my home screen with Sylus looking at me with his arms crossed.... Anyway, enjoy this Caleb brain rot 🥹🩷 I'll do one with Caleb's military air force uniform when I can 😔🫡

I JUST SAW THE NEW BANNER DROP IM NOT OK IF ANYONES WONDERING.

w/c: 3.5K

Effortless. That is what Caleb feels like when his affections come to you. It bubbles and boils over when he thinks he's able to put a lid over it, and it overflows instead. It leaves him so defenseless. Yet, he can't seem to stop. It's the only thing that keeps him going in this hell.

The only thing he feels is the metallic necklace barely weighing on his chest. It almost feels like you're here with him.

And if you are, he wants to keep you here with him. Forever.

His eyes slowly open. His eyes focus on the hologram clock hovering at the side.

You're supposed to be back already.

Caleb contemplated on driving out to find you since he has your location pinging on his phone.

Since when did you have that many friends in Skyhaven? Why doesn't he know about them?

He checks the messages he's sent you, all unread.

Caleb has to remind himself to stop clenching his jaw and biting his tongue.

His stare towards the door grows anxious by the minute. Then he strengthens his resolve and marches towards the door, ready to leave and look for you.

The second he pulls down the door handle, the jingle of the door unlocking from the outside sounds and the door swings open, making you and Caleb jump when he catches you in his arms from bumping into each other.

“Caleb!” You squeal, flustered at the way you completely ran into him. His warmth is radiating over to your skin. “Are you okay? Where were you gonna go?”

You watch a small pout form on his lips. He truly looks like a puppy when he does that, you can't help but think.

“Look for you”, he curtly replies, making sure you've regained your balance before he releases your arms.

You straighten your posture, and sheepishly touch the nape of your neck, immediately avoiding his gaze.

“Ah, right. Well, I got carried away with chatting with my friends and all…”

Caleb crosses his arms. His pout turns into a frown, and his eyebrows are scrunched.

Shit. He looks mad.

You inch closer to him, your fingers grazing over his knuckles.

“I'm sorry, Caleb. Don't be mad okay? I'm home now, safe and sound, in the flesh, aren't I?”

Caleb breathes steadily, keeping his expression the same, but when you take his palm and nuzzle your cheek against it, Caleb feels the anxiety and frustration dissolve. He wants to reprimand you about the curfew, and why he implemented it in the first place. If you’ve stayed missing for a second longer, he would have completely lost it. But the moment his palm nearly touches your lips, it all dissipates, as if it never existed.

Caleb exhales a sigh of defeat, letting it go just this time, alongside the countless times he did.

“Go shower. I left the heater on for you.”

You respond with a cheeky smile that makes something in Caleb’s chest bloom, and he lets you go, watching you disappear into your room.

Caleb hears a knock on his door. He walks over and opens it, watching you coming into view.

“Is there something you need, pipsqueak?”

You squeeze through the crack of the partially opened door and occupy his bed.

“I'm just bored.”

Even though Caleb cocks his eyebrow, he still sprouts his smile, walking over to join you on his bed.

“Not because you're trying to make it up to me for coming back past curfew?”

Shit.

Your smile playfully drops to a pout. “I got carried away yapping with my friends. You know I didn't mean to…”

Caleb crosses his arms again.

“I could tell. My messages were all left unread.”

You curl your fingers to your lips when you realise you've been caught.

Caleb seems upset but you still see the softness beneath.

He sighs.

“I'm doing this for your own good, pipsqueak. I don't like you getting caught up in this.”

Caleb likes to think that it is that way, but he knows that it's more than just that.

“As you can tell–” you’re showing off your body–your arms first then your legs, then your abdomen. But what Caleb didn't expect you to do was lift up your shirt slightly, your skin exposed, and have your shorts hike up your thighs, just to prove your point. “Nothing! You can check me for tracking devices too if you want to.”

Something snaps in him.

“So do you let your friends inspect your body like that?”

He crawls onto the bed, watching the smile slowly drop from your face.

Caleb’s fingers trace your bare skin, drawing goosebumps from how ghostly the touches feel. His fingers slide from the top of your knees, and towards your thighs.

“Do you know how worried I was when you didn't answer my messages?”

You’re about to part your lips to respond, but he cuts you off.

“I was wondering what conversations you were having that you ignored me.”

“Caleb–”

He’s completely trapped you against the headboard of his bed. He's trapped you with his stare.

Caleb inches closer, until he's close enough. His eyes glance down to your lips for a split second before his gaze meets yours again.

Your breath is shaky when he leans in closer.

Then he turns away.

What the fuck?

You watch in disbelief as he pulls away, your breath still caught in your throat from the tension.

Caleb’s signature smile returns and you feel his palm stroke the back of your head.

“You should go back to bed. It's late.”

He turns to open his door for you to leave.

“Maybe I should start coming home later too.”

He pauses in his steps.

“I don't think that's a bright idea, pipsqueak.”

You slide off his bed and walk towards his door.

“Maybe not. But I have brighter ones that consist of escaping your curfew.”

You’re ready to leave the room with your victory, that is, until the door before you completely shuts. You see his shadow tower over you from behind.

You turn to face Caleb, your arms are crossed.

“Didn’t you ask me to go to bed?”

“Changed my mind. I wanna make sure you're thoroughly inspected.”

You’re facing Caleb, back on his bed again. He starts with your face, but he lets his fingers linger around your lips, brushing across your bottom lip. You turn away, and his fingers catch your chin, forcing you to face Caleb.

“No looking away.”

His eyes are devouring every patch of skin that exists on your body. Even though you're clothed, you feel naked when he has his eyes on you this intensely. His fingertips trace back to your lips and he slides it down painfully slowly–past your chin, down your neck, through your sternum, past your stomach, and stops right above the elastic of your shorts.

You want to shift, but you realise you can't–your body suddenly feels weighed down to the bed, and that's when you realise Caleb has you held down with his Evol.

The softness in Caleb’s eyes disappears, and something else replaces it. You watch him tug your shorts off you, and all you can do is watch helplessly.

His kisses tickle from your ankle, and he builds them upwards at an agonising pace, each kiss feeling warmer as he travels up your thigh.

Your heartbeat only accelerates from there, watching Caleb inch closer and closer to your cunt. Your thighs tense up from the sensitivity, the warmth of his lips spreading over your skin when you feel his tongue come in contact with your skin.

“That tickles”, your voice is soft, as if the defiance in your tone before never existed.

Caleb’s lips press against your clothed pussy. Despite the fact that you’re trembling slightly, you've completely soaked your panties, and Caleb is more than happy to soak them even more.

He buries his tongue, wetting the fabric even further. The pleasure draws soft moans, but evidently, it's not enough.

“Caleb… Could you lighten your Evol?” You plead. You want to feel him so bad.

Your body instantly lightens, and you almost think you're gonna fall off the bed.

Something else holds you down this time, and it's Caleb.

He tilts your chin up to have your lips meet his, now his kisses melting off the thoughts in your brain. Warmth burns through your skin. It takes you seconds to realise Caleb is lifting your shirt off you.

The clothing article is the next victim tossed somewhere else on the bed.

You take his cheeks to your palms.

“I really need you now, Caleb.”

The softness returns to his eyes momentarily.

“Are you sure you're okay with this?”

“I'll hop off right now and head straight to bed if you don't”, you huff. Fuck, the anticipation is just clawing through your insides, begging for Caleb to do something.

He playfully scoffs.

“We both know you wouldn't.”

Caleb tugs your panties to the side, and lines himself to your hole.

He thrusts into you in one swift motion, and you feel it all the way in. It knocks your breath out of you. Caleb watches you helplessly gasp for air and adjust to his size. He’s just filled you so full.

He’s still supporting you so you don't fucking pass out. He feels you scratch all over his back from the pressure but he stays still, at least, until you've adjusted.

“Shit. You're so fuckin’ warm for me”, he hisses into your neck, trying his best not to thrust into you. You feel so tight for him, he feels so good just staying there.

He stretches you open for him–your pussy fluttering at the feeling of him filling you up. The pressure slowly fades and you quickly adjust to his size.

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you from below–the sensation so overwhelming that it's making you tear up.

“So good”, you sigh, struggling to keep your eyes open–almost impossible when his cock is hitting your g-spot over and over again. Sparks burst into your eyelids whenever he hits the spot and it's evident that he knows he’s able to unravel you just like that, so easily.

“Caleb…”, you moan. Caleb’s still fucking you, feeling the way you're just squeezing him, watching the way your fingers have gone clawing his back to his bedsheets, the way your tits are bouncing from fucking you, the way your eyes practically form hearts when he knows he's hit your sensitive spots.

“Faster, please. You feel so fucking good.”

He knows you shouldn't have said that. You're the only person who can rile him up like this. How the hell are you making him break his resolve when he's supposed to be upset with you?

He leans in, practically hovering over you. His fingers cup your cheek and he forces you to meet his violet eyes.

In your fucked out haze, you blink, confused when he slows down. He pulls out completely, and you're about to complain until he rolls your soiled panties off your legs, tossing it to somewhere on the bed.

You gasp when you feel his thumb graze over your wet and throbbing clit.

“I'm gonna make you wonder what the fuck wrong with your body”, Caleb’s voice reaches your ears. His words sends a shiver down your spine.

“Your little pussy is gonna throb every time you think of me.”

That's all the warning he gives before his arms tower over you, holding your wrists down above your head.

He fucks you into an orbit and you're practically helpless–forced to take his thrusts over and over. But fuck, it feels so good. It feels like fucking heaven.

You like how dizzy it makes you feel. You like how he's not stopping, no matter how much tears stream down your face, and how pathetic you sound crying and moaning his name.

“Fuck! Caleb, it's too much–” you whimper, the strange feeling building up in your stomach. It feels like it's about to snap any second.

He acknowledges your words, but he doesn't bother slowing down.

“Didn’t you promise me to be a good girl and take all of it?”

“Caleb–!”

Your voice sounds so heavenly when you call his name.

The fluids fountains out of you, soaking everything near it's vincity–including the both of you. Your orgasm continues to wash over you and more fluids spray out.

Caleb watches you squirm and jolt while you make a mess all over him.

He lets go of your wrists, the slight redness forming onto your skin, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip.

Despite your arms feeling sore from resisting against his hold, you wrap them around his neck, pulling him close to catch his lips. He's taken back for a split second, but he returns the kiss, letting his soft moans drown into your lips while you clench around him.

When you both pull back, it's Caleb’s turn to have his eyes glazed and his cheeks dusted a soft shade of pink.

“y/n, if you keep doin’ that–fuck”, Caleb groans, his fingers closing into a fist against the sheets. His breath is shaky. The euphoria is threatening to spill over–the fact that you're trapping him in like this with you, just the two of you solely existing together right now–he could get high off this feeling. He doesn't need anything else.

“I'm so close. Shit.” You watch the bead of sweat trickle down his temple, down to his cheek, to his chin, and then it disappears into the mess the both of you made below.

Caleb’s voice makes you refocus on him.

His palm presses against your cheek again, his thumb brushing lightly on the corner of your lips.

“You're gonna take all of it like a good girl, yeah?”

You nod, almost too eagerly. Caleb can't help but think that your face after being fucked looks breathtakingly beautiful. It makes him want to hide you further. The world doesn't deserve someone like you.

He crashes his lips with yours, melting into the kiss while he pumps you full with his thick cum–making sure he has himself seated deep inside so nothing spills out. At least, not until he pulls out.

The high slowly descends, and the both of you are left panting, getting lost in each other’s eyes just for that moment before Caleb slowly pulls out.

Caleb then reaches for the glass of water perched on his nightstand to offer you. You take a good few sips of water, and hand it back to Caleb, who takes a couple of sips as well. He notices the way your cheeks are still flushed and that you're blinking more. He plants the empty glass onto the nightstand, ready to carry you to wash up and probably change the sheets after.

In a daze, you notice Caleb’s cum seeping out of your hole in small loads. You wet two fingers and slide them to your pussy–and you push the thick fluids back in, your body jolting in pleasure while you're pretty much fingering your pussy with Caleb’s cum.

Caleb swallows hard while he watches you pleasure yourself. He’s about to say something but you cut him off.

“Your cum keeps leaking out”, you point out, giving him the full view of your cum-soaked pussy. You look up at him with an innocent, poison-soaked gaze–your lashes wet and your thighs trembling from each time you feel his cum leak out of you.

“It’d be such a waste–”, you mutter, shivering one more time when your fingers fuck you again, the room only filled with your voice and the wet squelching sounds from your pussy.

“–if it doesn't stay inside.”

You barely have time to process what happens next. The next thing you knew, Caleb has your hands pinned above your head with one hand, and the other on your cheeks. His legs stop you from closing yours, and you feel his wet thickness hard once more, resting on your pubic bone.

“You know, pipsqueak”, his voice drops an octave lower. His voice is clear, and he makes sure you hear him. “It's okay to just ask for more.” His eyes reflect such a gorgeous shade of wild you've never seen before, and it looks fucking good on him.

No warnings–your cunt is just wet and sopping that Caleb stuffs you to fullness once more–you give up trying to keep your eyelids open, your mind only processing the way he’s fucking so deep into you again and again.

“You know I'll always give it to you.”

The way his fingers are cupping your cheeks stops you from answering. Well, he doesn't need a verbal response, especially not when you’re clenching him so fucking tight when your orgasm hits you for the…how many times was it now?

You feel stings that slowly dull around your shoulders and chest. The bites Caleb’s given you are as red as the ruby on his apple necklace.

The night is drowned with sounds and sensations of both you competing to send each other to the heavens.

What day is it now?

Caleb blinks his heavy eyelids open. He soaks in the atmosphere around him, and it doesn't take him long to realise that you're lying on his arm.

Thankfully, it's not numb. Your hair tickles his cheeks.

He notices the light peeking through his curtains. It's probably daytime.

Caleb presses his lips against the back of your head, while he pulls you closer. He almost jolts when he hears a soft moan coming from you.

For some reason, something feels funny.

He attempts to shift slightly, and realises the predicament–his dick is still hard as fuck, and he’s still nestled so fucking deep in you. Fuck. Did the both of you fall asleep mid-sex? The feeling bleeds into him again.

Are you even awake to realise this?

Caleb bites his inner cheek, the hardness only builds. Shit. Even after all of that, you're still this warm and tight?

He watches your breathing steadily.

He hooks your leg over his arm almost too easily, giving himself easier access to fuck you deeper. Your sleepiness is slowly dissipating, overtaken so fucking quick by the burning desire once more.

His thrusts bear slight friction at first, but somehow that only adds to the pleasure–the rawness, the fact that he's left a mess in you and kept that way, and that he gets to do it all over again in the morning.

“Ca…Caleb..!” You squeal, uselessly fisting the pillows while Caleb rails you from below.

“So perfectly warm for me, y/n”, his morning voice dousing you. He takes advantage to litter more bites to the back of your neck and shoulders, and spoils you with his strained moans when he reflects the way you whimper whenever he hits your sensitive spots.

You sheepishly bury your teary face into the pillows, and Caleb pushes himself impossibly deeper, forcing you to face him when you jolt in surprise. His violet eyes are eating you up. You hear his voice ring in your ears.

“Wanna make you cry more like this. You're so pretty when you cry when I'm splittin’ you open like this.”

More tears stream down your cheeks whenever your g-spot gets abused over and over. Caleb forces you to meet his gaze. His thrusts are slower, but harder.

“Shit, you're really gonna milk me dry, yeah?” Caleb hisses when he feels you flutter around him. Your cum is mixed with his, and drips down his cock, to his balls.

Caleb pulls you tighter, deepening the kiss one last time while he breeds you full over and over for nth time since the last night, devouring your whimpers when the words you muttered to him last night comes into memory. You're so dizzy with pleasure, and Caleb has stolen all of your breaths.

He finally pulls out, his cum endlessly drizzling out of your abused hole, and it almost sets him off again.

Nonetheless, he forces himself to get out of bed so he can get a towel and clean you up.

Another loving kiss he presses onto your temple.

“I'm gonna get a towel, pipsqueak.” His husky whispers send shivers down your body, and the warmth of his touch lingers on your thighs for a lot longer than you realise.

He leaves the bed for the bathroom.

You nuzzle into the pillows Caleb was just lying on, drowning yourself with his scent. The wetness that sticks between your legs–you can't tell if it's your fresh arousal or if it's his cum anymore.

Not that it mattered since steadying your breath when you realised he was still in you when you stirred before him to see what he'd do next, gave you such a big reward.

And you'd do it all over again. You would say things to get under his skin, just to get a rise out of him, just to keep his attention on you, always.

You wanted to keep his strained voice when he called your name, the way he looks at you with so much desperation when he breeds you full, in a bottle and store it for your perverted indulgence.

No one else needs to know that this part of Caleb exists, because he belongs to you.

The dim light catches your attention underneath the thick sheets. You take the device, unlocking the phone with your fingerprint.

6 missed calls.

You swipe them away. You shut off his phone.

He doesn't need to know.

He doesn't need to remember.

At least, not when he's with you.

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missdynamighttt · 3 months ago

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because i'm evil, pro hero! katsuki avoiding you after giving you backshots just because the poor baby had feelings for you :((

it’s been days. days since you last spoke. days since that night.

since he touched you like you were the only fucking thing that mattered and then, like cowards, you both just... disappeared.

you hadn’t spoken. you hadn’t really spoken. not in a way that mattered. all the little things—the bickering, the late-night conversations, the stupid arguments—it had stopped.

you’d become ghosts to each other.

so now, here you are, marching straight into the locker room after hours, footsteps echoing off the walls, heat rising to your face and fists clenched tight.

simply because, you couldn't take it anymore.

because despite the quiet, despite the harsh avoidance, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside you was always tugging you back toward him.

even now, when you were furious, when the bitterness burned through your chest like a furnace, you couldn’t resist the pull of him.

katsuki's sitting on the bench, half-dressed, toweling off his sweat, when he hears your boots stomp in. his eyes narrow as they meet yours in the mirror.

“oh, look who decided to show up,” he drawls, voice low and sharp, like he was expecting this. “finally ready to grow a pair?”

you scoff. loudly. “you ignored me first, jackass.”

“no. i fucked you first. then you ran.”

your mouth drops open, heart lurching in your chest. “you—are insufferable!”

you march right up to him, getting in his face. “you really think that’s what this is about? that i’m mad about the sex?”

he smirks. “well, i did blow your back out, so i figured you’d need a few recovery days.”

you slap his towel off his shoulder, fury boiling over. “you fucking coward!”

his smirk falters.

“you knew exactly what you were doing,” you hiss, jabbing a finger into his chest. “you touch me like you mean it, kiss me like it matters, and then pretend like nothing happened. like it wasn’t real. just sex, right? just scratching an itch?”

“i didn’t pretend shit,” he snaps back, standing up so the two of you are chest to chest. “you’re the one ignoring me like i was some fuckin’ mistake!”

“you are! one i can’t stop thinking about!”

the two of you are breathing hard, voices sharp and heated, until something catches your eye.

you glance down. ...and freeze.

your words get caught in your throat when you notice it—very, very obvious through the thin fabric of his sweats.

he’s hard.

“...are you kidding me right now?” you whisper, stunned. “you’ve got a boner—in the middle of us yelling at each other?”

katsuki groans and runs a hand through his hair, frustration tugging at every muscle in his body. “you-you think i like this? you think i like being hard whenever you so much as look at me?”

you take a step back, face flushed. his eyes are burning into you now, voice rough but lower.

“i’ve been like this for days,” he grits out. “couldn’t train right. couldn’t sleep. couldn’t even jerk off without thinking about you—your face, your voice, that smart-ass mouth...”

you blink, stunned into silence.

“and it’s not just about the sex, alright?” he mutters, quieter now. “i keep thinkin’ about you after. the way you looked at me when i kissed you. the way you said my name. the way you held onto me. like you wanted more.”

you swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly dry.

“i didn’t know what to do with that,” he says, almost hoarse. “didn’t know what it meant. scared i’d fuck it up if i said something, so... i said nothing. and that was worse.”

the silence between you stretches. you’re staring at him, your heart pounding. you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. so instead, you just do the only thing that feels right.

you step forward and kiss him. hard. hot. angry. desperate.

and when he kisses you back—hands tangled in your hair, mouth slanting over yours like he’s starving—it’s not just lust anymore. it’s a confession. it’s an apology.

it’s everything you were both too fucking stubborn to say.

when you finally pull back, breathing hard, you look up at him and mutter, “you’re still a coward.”

he chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “yeah? deal with it.”

you sigh, cheeks burning. “only if you fuck me stupid in the shower.”

his grin is wicked. “oh, you’re gonna regret sayin’ that.”

you tried to deflect with your usual sarcasm, a smart remark perched on your tongue—but it didn’t make it past your lips when he looked at you like that.

like he meant it. like you weren’t just a fight and a fuck to him.

he pulled you into the private bathroom of his office at the agency—some high-end, sleek place with dark marble walls, chrome fixtures, and a rainfall showerhead that must’ve cost more than your rent.

the moment the warm spray hit your skin, the heat from earlier didn’t dissipate. it deepened.

steam curled between you, trailing along your neck, between your breasts, down the bruises he left on your hips.

you turned away, hiding your face beneath the water. embarrassed. overwhelmed. because you weren’t supposed to feel like this, and pretend it mattered.

but he followed you in, body pressing up behind you, arms bracketing your hips with surprising gentleness.

“…you okay?” katsuki murmured, his voice low and husky but softer than before. no teasing, no cocky smirk. just that raspy, raw tone of someone who wasn’t used to asking.

you nodded quickly, too quick, like a liar. “i’m fine.”

“you’re shaking.”

you didn’t have a response to that. not one that made you sound strong. so instead, you gripped the tile, your body still humming from him, from the kiss, from everything.

he kissed your shoulder. then the side of your neck. his hands didn’t grab—they rested on your waist, rubbing soft circles into your skin like he was memorizing you. every slow pass of his thumbs up your ribs made your breath catch.

“you always run your fuckin’ mouth,” he muttered, lips against your damp skin. “…but you’re real quiet now.”

you felt his cock rock-hard against the small of your back, thick and hot, pressed to you through the water.

your stomach flipped.

“this is different,” you whispered. it wasn’t supposed to be this slow. this… intimate.

“i know.”

he pulled your hair back from your face, gentle fingers smoothing it behind your ear, the same hand trailing down over your collarbone, cupping your tits like he needed to feel the weight of it in his palm.

his thumb circled your nipple slowly—so slowly it had your knees wobbling. then he twisted it, just enough to make you gasp and lean into him, your back to his chest.

“let me take my time with you,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “don't treat me like i’m some kinda mistake.”

“you are,” you breathed, trying to hold onto the fire in your chest, even as it softened under the drag of his hands down your belly.

he chuckled low. “liar.”

his fingers dipped between your thighs, parting your slick folds under the warm water. he groaned when he felt how wet you already were.

your breath hitched. “you gonna tease me now?”

he kissed your cheek, smirking against your skin. “nah. just wanna make you cum with my fingers first.”

and he did. oh, fuck, did he.

he sank two thick fingers inside you, slow and deep, curling them just right, his other hand palming your tit, lips dragging down your neck between sweet praises and filth.

“god, you’re tight… fuck—grippin’ my fingers like this, princess? you wanna milk my cock again, don’t you?”

you whimpered, your forehead pressed to the tile as your legs threatened to give out. his fingers thrust steadily inside you, a little faster, a little deeper, until your thighs trembled and your orgasm of the night crept up quick and sharp, exploding through you like wildfire.

you came with a strangled gasp, collapsing back against him. he held you up, letting you ride it out, brushing your hair back and kissing your temple.

he didn’t even ask for anything in return. but when you turned to face him, your hand sliding down his abs, eyes soft and nervous and needier than you wanted to admit, he let out a shaky breath like you were the one taking him apart now.

“…want me to take care of you too?” you asked, voice quiet.

katsuki stared at you. then kissed you again. slower this time. softer. it knocked the air out of your chest. and even though your body was still trembling, you wanted to give him something in return. something that said you felt it too, even if you weren’t brave enough to say the words.

you kissed down his jaw, his throat, lingering on the spot just under his ear where you felt him shiver. then lower.

he let you push him gently back against the tile, water streaming down the hard lines of his chest and abs, that cock of his already flushed and twitching with need.

“fuck, you don’t have to—”

“i want to,” you cut him off softly, meeting his gaze as you sank to your knees, the shower floor warm beneath you. the look on his face—half disbelief, half pure, wrecked hunger—sent a bolt of heat through your stomach.

you started slow, like he did with you.

fingers curling around the base of his cock, you dragged your tongue from root to tip, tasting the water, the salt of his skin. he hissed through his teeth, one hand flying to your wet hair, fingers tightening, not to control you—but to ground himself.

you licked again, swirling your tongue around the head, teasing the slit. his thighs tensed.

“shit… that mouth,” he groaned, his head hitting the tile behind him with a dull thud. “you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

you smiled, smug now, and took him into your mouth slowly—inch by inch, stretching your lips around the thick, heavy weight of him. his breath stuttered above you, hips twitching, but he didn’t thrust. he let you take your time.

you hollowed your cheeks, letting your tongue press along the underside, dragging back with a soft slurp that had him groaning your name.

“god—you’re… you’re too fuckin’ good at this.”

the praise made you moan around him, and that vibration nearly broke him. his fingers gripped tighter in your hair as you bobbed your head, slow and deep, letting your throat relax as he slid further in.

when you gagged slightly, he cursed and tried to pull back.

but you held him there, hands on his thighs, eyes locked on his as you swallowed him down again, slower this time, more controlled, until your nose brushed his skin and he choked on a groan so wrecked it made you ache.

“you’re—shit, you’re makin’ a fuckin’ mess, sweetheart.”

he wasn’t wrong. your spit mixed with precum and the water, dripping down your chin, pooling at your knees. but you didn’t care. not when he was looking at you like that, mouth slack, chest heaving, completely undone.

you pulled back with a pop, stroking him with your hand as you caught your breath, tongue flicking over the tip just to hear him curse again.

“you close?” you asked, voice sweet, lips swollen.

his jaw clenched, eyes dark and desperate. “y-yeah. but i wanna—shit—i wanna cum inside you. please.”

the “please” broke you.

and just like that, you were rising to your feet, mouth brushing his as you whispered, “then fuck me again, katsuki. right here.”

and oh, he did.

your breath caught when his arms wrapped around your thighs and he lifted you like it was nothing—like you weighed nothing to him. one second you were kissing him, wet and needy and pressed to his chest, and the next your back hit the slick shower wall, legs wrapped around his waist, his broad hands locking under your ass.

“you—oh my god—how are you so strong?” you gasped, blinking at him through the mist and steam, your heart hammering so hard it echoed in your ears.

he smirked, water dripping from his hair, running down his sharp cheekbones. “tch. i’m a pro fuckin’ hero, baby. lifting you is the easiest thing i’ve ever done.”

and fuck, that cocky glint in his eye paired with the way he adjusted his grip on you—rough, protective, possessive—it made your stomach flip and your cunt clench around nothing.

“but—i’m—this is so embarrassing,” you mumbled, hiding your face in his neck, suddenly overwhelmed by the intimacy of it. you were flushed everywhere. cheeks, chest, even your ears were burning. “you’re making it hard to keep pretending i hate you.”

he chuckled low in his throat, tilting his head so his lips brushed your temple. “think we're way past that, sweetheart.”

and with that, he shifted his hips and slid inside you in one smooth, maddening thrust—deep, slow, thick enough to make your mouth fall open in a silent cry. your legs trembled around his waist, your arms flung tight around his neck, trying to stay upright even though he was already holding all of you.

“fuck,” he groaned, voice strained. “you feel so good.”

the stretch, the angle, the sheer depth of him like this—it was too much and not enough, and all you could do was hold on. moaning brokenly into his shoulder as he rocked into you, strong hands gripping you like you were something precious.

“you always act so tough,” he murmured against your jaw, hips snapping harder now, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing off the tile. “but look at you now. wrapped around me. so fuckin’ sweet.”

“sh-shut up,” you whined, but it had no heat. your voice cracked with every thrust, and you could barely keep your head up, overwhelmed by the way he filled you, the way he held you.

you bit his shoulder. he kept fucking you like you were his favorite sin.

he grinned, that cocky little smirk barely hiding how wrecked he looked too, water running down his temple and jaw. “did i ever tell you.. how i’ve been fantasizin’ about fuckin’ you like this... since the first time you called me a dickhead?"

your heart pounded, chest tight with flustered disbelief. “you’re so—god, you're so rude.”

“yeah?” he said, grinning against your neck. “still let me pick you up though. wrap those thighs tighter around me, sweetheart. let me feel how much you want it.”

you whined. you actually whined, heat flooding your face as your thighs clenched harder around his hips.

you were barely holding on—your nails dug into his back, legs trembling around his waist as he fucked you into the wall like he owned you. each deep, hungry thrust had your head spinning, the water pouring over you both doing nothing to cool the heat blistering through your body.

he was grunting low in your ear, panting against your neck, his arms tightening under you with every bounce of your hips on his cock.

“katsuki—” you gasped, the name tumbling out desperate and ruined.

“fuck, baby,” he growled, forehead pressed against yours. “you’re squeezin’ me so damn tight—gonna make me lose it.”

your entire body was strung taut with want, soaked in heat and steam and the friction of him pounding into you like he couldn’t get deep enough. your mind was blank, blissed out on the way he stretched you, hit every single spot just right—and then some. you were breathless, trembling, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how good it felt, how full you were.

“inside,” you whimpered, eyes wide and shining. “katsuki—please, i want it inside.”

he stilled for half a second, eyes dark and blown wide as his jaw flexed. “you know what you’re askin’ me for, baby?”

“yes,” you breathed, pressing your forehead against his, kissing the corner of his mouth. “i want it. want you to fill me up. like you promised.”

his groan broke into something feral, primal, possessive—his hips snapping forward with even more force now, like he had something to prove.

“you’re gonna fuckin’ take it then,” he growled, his grip bruising now as he chased his high. “gonna fuckin’ breed you."

“katsuki, please—cum inside me,” you cried, legs tightening around his waist, your whole body clinging to him. “i need it. i need you.”

that was it. the growl he let out was deep and broken as he buried himself to the hilt and let go, warmth spilling inside you as he groaned your name like a curse and a prayer. his hips jerked through it, milking every last drop, and you swore you felt it—every pulse, every throb, every ounce of him claiming you from the inside out.

and even as you trembled in his arms, breathless and dazed, he didn’t let go. didn’t pull out. just held you there, lips brushing your temple.

your back hit the cool tile as he finally, finally set you down, though your legs still felt like jelly. you leaned against the shower wall, blinking up at him with glassy, dazed eyes, the water still cascading down both your bodies in lazy rivulets.

and then you saw the way he was looking at you.

katsuki’s gaze dropped between your thighs, where his cum was slowly starting to leak out of your swollen, sensitive pussy. he watched, utterly transfixed, like he’d never seen anything so perfect. his tongue darted across his bottom lip, chest rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths.

“shit,” he muttered, almost reverent. “look at that.”

“don’t look,” you mumbled, trying to press your thighs together, shy despite everything. “you’re making it weird.”

“the fuck i am,” he said, stepping closer again, voice low and smug. “that’s me, baby. all of it.”

his fingers grazed your inner thigh, pushing your leg aside so he could see more clearly. the way his eyes darkened sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you.

“you’re fuckin’ drippin' for me,” he murmured, almost to himself. “could watch this shit all day. you takin’ me so deep—beggin’ for it—and now look at you.”

“katsuki,” you said, voice small, your face burning now.

he leaned in, his mouth brushing your ear. “you got no idea what this does to me. how good you look with my cum leaking outta that pretty pussy.”

you whimpered, fingers gripping his arms to steady yourself, flustered beyond belief. you tried to hide your face against his neck, but he caught your chin, tilting your head back so he could see just how red your cheeks had gotten.

“aww,” he teased, grinning now. “you shy now? after you begged me to cum inside like a fuckin’ good girl?”

“katsuki,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

the teasing faded as soon as he saw your shiver. maybe it was the water cooling down, or maybe it was the aftershocks making your body tremble, but either way, katsuki's expression shifted. the heat in his eyes softened—still intense, but now threaded with something gentler.

“hey,” he said, brushing a hand over your soaked hair. “c’mere.”

you let him pull you close again, resting your head against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat grounding you. his arms wrapped around you protectively, one hand smoothing down your back as the water pattered around you both.

“you okay?” he asked, dipping his chin to meet your eyes.

you nodded, a little dazed, a little overwhelmed. “yeah. just… floaty.”

“mhm,” he leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “stay here. let me take care of you.”

you blinked, looking up at him. “you’re gonna…?”

“yeah, dummy,” he muttered, though his thumb was gentle as it traced the curve of your jaw. “i made a mess. least i can do is clean you up.”

he reached for the body wash, pouring a little into his palm before lathering it gently between his hands. then he started with your shoulders, massaging in slow, careful circles. down your arms, your back, and over your hips, like he was memorizing every inch of you again—except this time it wasn’t about lust. it was soft, reverent.

“i didn’t hurt you, did i?” he asked quietly, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

you shook your head, voice barely above a whisper. “no. i liked it. a lot.”

a low sound rumbled in his chest, but it wasn’t cocky this time. it was something closer to relief. pride. love.

“good girl,” he said, pressing a kiss to your jaw as he lifted your arm to wash underneath it. “you tell me if anything ever does hurt, yeah? i don’t care how hot you think it is, i need to know.”

“i will,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed as he rinsed you off, careful not to let the suds drip into your eyes.

katsuki crouched to wash your legs next, his hands warm and firm as they moved over your calves. when he reached the inside of your thighs, he hesitated—then looked up at you.

“you okay if i…?”

you nodded, cheeks still warm.

his touch there was gentle, as if washing away what was left of him inside you was a sacred task. when he was done, he stood and pulled you into his chest again, arms wrapped tight around your waist.

“we should do this more often,” you mumbled sleepily.

“the fuckin’ in my office part or the shower part?” he asked with a grin.

“both."

he chuckled low. “yeah, baby. me too.”

and then he just held you there, under the steady stream of water, hands slow and soothing as they traced lazy paths up and down your back. like he could wash away the world if you asked him to.

by the time he stood again and wrapped you in a towel, you felt like your bones had turned to honey. he dried you off with the same quiet focus, then pressed another kiss to your temple.

“let’s get you home,” he said, voice gruff but warm. and he carried you out of the shower like you were the most precious thing in the world.

he helped you into his car, his hand warm and firm against the small of your back as he guided you gently into the passenger seat.

you were still wrapped in his agency hoodie, legs bare beneath it, your damp hair tucked behind your ears. he didn’t say much on the drive—just kept his hand resting on your thigh, thumb tracing small circles, eyes flicking to you every so often like he couldn’t believe you were real.

you were sleepy, soft, and still buzzing from the high and the aftercare.you were already turning to say goodbye, your voice still soft from the come-down of everything, when he cleared his throat.

“wait.”

you looked up. he was rubbing the back of his neck, eyes suddenly everywhere but your face. for once, bakugo katsuki looked awkward. bashful, even.

“i’ll let you rest,” he muttered, lingering in the doorway like he didn’t wanna leave. "you need anything, you call me. don’t care if it’s three in the morning.”

you looked up at him, still flushed, still wearing that stupid little dreamy smile he’d put on your face.

“you staying?”

his eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. he looked like he wanted to say yes. but instead, he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “nah. i want you to sleep."

he looked up at you, brows furrowing slightly like he was second-guessing whatever he was about to say. but then he exhaled through his nose, almost like a sigh.

“go out with me.”

your heart skipped. “huh?”

he scratched at the back of his neck, still trying to play it cool. “a real date. dinner. a movie—shit, nevermind, movies are stupid. a walk in the damn park. somethin’ that doesn’t involve us stripping in my agency’s damn shower.”

you blinked, then snorted. “we��re doing this backwards, y’know.”

“what?”

“we already slept together and saw each other naked in broad daylight, and now you’re asking me out?”

he gave you that grumpy little scowl—eyes glinting, jaw tight. “yeah, well, guess i figured i’d get the scary shit outta the way first.”

you grinned, stepping forward until your fingers hooked in the hem of his shirt. “bold strategy.”

“shut up.”

“i didn’t say no.”

his eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up. “so that a yes?”

you leaned in, kissed his cheek—soft and slow. “yeah. it’s a yes.”

for the first time in the past twenty-four hours, he didn’t have a smart-ass comment ready.

just a bashful smile with red ears, and the promise to pick you up friday at 7.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ part one ! ]

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ AHHHH i must confess i honestly hate doing part twos because im scared they'll never live up to the first one😭 im so happy i get more time to write now omgomg, i FINALLY might be able to clear my bazillion drafts teehee 😝 hope you guys enjoyeddd💗💗

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yandere-romanticaa · 3 months ago

Note

What you think of a sacrificial bride reader with mydei🤧 likeeeeee 😫 and soon he becomes possesiveee lmao

Phainon may be my personal favorite but Mydei is objectively the hottest man on Amphoreus. It's so not fair how hot he is, I'm so sad I didn't manage to get him... Also, sorry for this fic not being very good, I'm in a strange state of being sleepy but also having the desire to write.

The sharp edges of his metallic gloves inch closer towards your face as you stare off into the distance, body clad in head to toe with a fine silk dress which left absolutely nothing to the imagination. His touch felt strange, like a contradiction. If you did not possess a pair of eyes, never in your wildest dreams could it be said that the same man who could tear off someone's neck without breaking a sweat could be so horribly gentle.

Your husband had a knack of lingering. Watching. Rarely ever did he truly indulge in your true company, mostly relinquishing himself into the shadows and his duties. One day, a wave of either stupidity or bravery came over you. Angrily, you had marched straight towards your husband and demanded to know why he was so suffocating.

A beast - that is what he is, that Mydeimos.

Not in the way one would expect him to be though. Stepping foot into his palace felt like a nightmare come to life. A foreign princess had been forced on her knees, chained up like a dog ready for slaughter. You had anticipated for him to be cruel, to be merciless, to have his way with you. His battle prowess was almost legendary, perhaps even godly in the eyes of some.

Even so, in the dark of the night when people would fade away and the stars would come out, the man would seek you out and like a storybook phantom, he would watch you from the shadows. It was beyond difficult to understand what he was thinking but not paying attention to him did not seem to make him mad.

You read books, painted, even tried to dance sometimes and Mydei - as he wanted you to call him - would do nothing but watch.

Finding your husband to be passive, you figured that there would be no harm in requesting to have a day out. You want to feel the sun on your skin and it's good for you - and it was immediately shut down with a raised hand, his finger wagging left and right, as if you were some child making a senseless request.

Mydei himself never could have imagined that he would find such joy in his little bride. She was offered up to him on a silver platter, his to devour wholly and whenever he saw fit. He knew how you looked at him and he could not help but to feel a bit insulted by that notion.

He may be a beast, but he was not a monster.

At least, he did not want to treat his wife that way.

I shall give her time, he thought to himself as he sipped on his drink, the delicate pink colour matching the shade of the dress he had handpicked earlier.

Not that his wife knew that, much to his amusement. He enjoyed seeing her frolic around in shades of pretty pinks and delicate reds in the comfort and safety of her palace wing. No one else could come here but a few servants, which were also handpicked by him.

He was not sure how he could handle another gazing at his wife in the same way he did. The thought should not be even entertained, for his heart would want blood.

With a grunt, he placed down his cup on the table, mind slightly hazy.

She shall come to me when she is ready, thought Mydeimos, his red eyes gleaming with hope. He was confident in his ability to melt her heart. These things took time and he was willing to wait for as long as it took.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yancore #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere male #mydei #hsr mydei #mydeimos #mydei x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere mydei #yandere mydei x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader

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wispitty · 3 months ago

Text

(short reacts) | "forced together after a fight" + one piece men

summary: you guys fought. it was over something stupid. but now you're both forced into the same space. there's tension.

characters: crocodile, mihawk, marco, ace, shanks, law, corazon

CROCODILE

You argued in his office.

Something dumb. Lab budget. Security protocol. Who let Buggy into the weapons storage.

Now?

You’re in an elevator. Stuck.

The silence is icy. Your arms are crossed. His hook taps against the wall, rhythmically.

“...This is your fault.”

“Excuse me?”

He doesn’t look at you. You don’t look at him.

The air crackles.

Eventually—he shifts closer.

Just a little.

You don’t flinch. He notices.

“Hmph. You’re not afraid of me.”

“Nope.”

Another beat.

“That’s going to be a problem.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t decide if I want to kiss you or run this hook straight through you.”

You look at him. Pouting, cheeks a little red.

“Why not both?”

And just like that— You’re pressed to the elevator wall. His mouth on yours. Devouring.

The tension? Snapped. But the problem?

Only just beginning.

MIHAWK

The argument was so sharp it summoned a tempest.

Now you’re both stuck inside the castle’s greenhouse as the storm rages outside.

You’re on opposite sides of the room. Not speaking. Not moving.

But both very aware.

You turn your back on him. Then hear:

“...You don’t even know why I was upset.”

You tense.

“Yeah? Well, you didn’t explain.”

“Because if I said it, it would’ve sounded ridiculous.”

Silence.

Then softer—

“...You could’ve gotten hurt.”

You turn.

He’s staring at a flower. One that reminds him of you.

“I didn’t want to watch that.”

You cross the room slowly.

When you’re close, he doesn’t look at you—but he reaches for your hand.

And when your fingers touch? He grabs you.

The kiss that follows is slow. Heavy. Regretful. Like every inch of it is an apology.

MARCO

You’re stuck together in the medbay during inventory.

Tense. Awkward.

You’re muttering under your breath. He’s pretending not to hear.

Until you drop a box and huff.

“Still think I was overreacting?”

He looks up.

“Yeah. Still think you were being reckless?”

You glare.

He smirks.

“Still think I don’t care?”

You flinch.

“I never said that.”

“No, but you acted like it.”

The air crackles.

You march up to him, fuming.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You’re irresistible.”

You open your mouth to yell—

He kisses you instead.

You kiss back.

Neither of you apologize. But neither of you need to anymore.

And none of the inventory gets sorted that night.

ACE

You argued outside. You’re now stuck under a tarp while it pours.

You’re sitting with your knees up, glaring at opposite corners.

Eventually—

“...You okay?”

“Do I look okay?”

“...You look really hot when you’re mad.”

You whip your head toward him.

“Are you serious, Ace?!”

“You finally looked at me.”

You freeze. He leans in. Smiling nervously.

You don’t move.

So he kisses you.

Once. Gentle.

You grab his necklace and kiss him back. Not gentle.

“Still mad at me?” he smirks.

“Ask again later.”

SHANKS

You argued over something dumb.

Now you’re hiding in the same tiny storage crate after a prank went wrong, and Marines are patrolling.

It’s dark. Tight. Your backs are pressed together.

“This is awkward.”

“You think?”

“Still mad?”

“Still breathing?”

He chuckles.

Then?

You shift.

And your breath brushes his neck.

He shivers.

You smirk.

“Still want to argue?”

He turns.

“I’m not here to fight.”

He cups your face. Grins.

“Unless we’re calling what I want to do to you a fight.”

Then he kisses you.

And for once?

You let him win.

LAW

You’re stuck in his office. Door lock malfunction. You argued about protocol. You were reckless. He was controlling.

Now?

You’re pacing.

He’s sitting, jaw clenched.

“Just admit you overreacted.”

“Just admit you scared the hell out of me.”

You freeze.

He doesn’t look at you.

Until you walk over, grab his coat, and shove him against the desk.

“Why didn’t you say that first, Law?”

His eyes lock on yours.

Then he grabs your waist and pulls you in.

“Because I was too angry. And too busy seeing you almost die in my head.”

Then he kisses you.

Hard. Possessive.

And when it ends?

You’re not arguing anymore.

CORAZON

You bickered. It got heated. You stormed off. Now you're trapped in the attic of a building with a broken ladder.

He's pacing.

You’re hugging your knees.

He sighs.

“I... I didn’t mean to yell.”

You glance at him.

“I know.”

He walks over. Sits. Quiet.

“I just—when you don’t tell me things, I feel…”

He doesn’t finish.

But you reach for his hand.

And when he holds it?

You lean into his shoulder.

He kisses your temple.

“Let’s argue less.”

“Let’s kiss more.”

So you do. That night. The one after. And the one after.

Forever.

#one piece reacts #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #shanks x reader #shanks #marco the phoenix #marco x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #corazon x reader #corazon #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #donquixote rosinante #rosinante x reader

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thatonegrimm · 9 days ago

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Hello! I've been eying (see friendly stalking) your Tumblr account and I absolutely love how you write the Saja Boys! Soooo I was thinking how would they react to us if we were self sacrificing? Like we put ourselves in danger before them and do stupid shit. Like shit talking Gwi-Ma and living after the fact xD

Thank you <3

Thanks for your request! Reader really out here casually traumatizing the boys like it's just a casual Sunday. Here you go!💌

🌙 Saja Boys x Self-Sacrificing Reader

-------------------

🧿 Jinu

The words were still ringing in his head.

You’d marched back into the safehouse covered in ash and scratches and casually said, “It wasn’t that bad. I just told Gwi-Ma he looked like melted candle wax.”

Jinu nearly dropped the teacup in his hand.

“Melted… what?”

You blinked at him innocently. “He got mad, yeah, but like—only demon mad.”

Jinu stared.

“You’re joking,” he said finally.

You weren’t.

Not really.

That night, while you sat on the couch icing your shoulder like it was a stubbed toe, Jinu paced.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he muttered, voice low but trembling. “You talk like it doesn’t matter. Like you don’t matter.”

You opened your mouth—probably with some deflecting quip—but he knelt beside you and caught your hand.

“I need you to stop throwing yourself into fire like I won’t burn, too.”

And that quiet devastation in his voice?

That’s when it hit you: he wasn’t mad because you risked your life.

He was scared because you didn’t think it was worth keeping.

-------------------

💪 Abby

The fight hadn’t even ended before you were already running into the danger zone. Abby had just gotten his footing back when he saw you yelling at a demon twice your size.

You were distracting it—for him.

Which meant you were getting tossed through a wall seconds later.

The demon got banished. Eventually.

But Abby? He didn’t calm down.

“Are you out of your mind?” he asked, hours later, crouching beside you with gauze and bandages. His hands were gentle, but his jaw was tight.

You tried to smile. “You were pinned. I had to.”

“No. You wanted to. There’s a difference.”

He wrapped your ankle in silence, his touch careful like you were made of glass.

“Next time,” he muttered, “I’m throwing you over my shoulder and locking you in a closet until the fight’s over.”

You snorted. “You’d really carry me off mid-battle?”

He looked up, dead serious. “If it keeps you alive? Every damn time.”

You shut up after that.

Not because he scared you.

But because it was the first time someone sounded angry that you didn’t value yourself enough to stay safe.

-------------------

📚 Mystery

He didn’t yell.

He didn’t throw things.

He just stood in the corner of the medbay, watching the dried blood on your sleeve and the half-healed gash on your cheek like it was his own fault.

You’d stepped in front of him.

Taken a hit meant for him.

“You weren’t supposed to be there,” he said finally, voice low.

You shrugged, wincing. “Didn’t really plan on it.”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t look at you.

“You could’ve died.”

“I didn’t,” you whispered, unsure why it felt like an apology.

Silence.

Then he turned to you—slow, deliberate.

His hair half-covered his eyes, but you could still see the way his mouth trembled before he spoke.

“Don’t do that again.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Don’t protect me like that. I’ve lived through worse. I’d rather be a monster than bury you.”

And that was the thing, wasn’t it?

He wasn’t afraid of death.

He was afraid of losing the one person who looked at him like he wasn’t one.

-------------------

💋 Romance

You told the story like it was funny.

Like the part where you nearly got skewered by an ambushing demon was just a cute little punchline to the fact that you’d managed to stall long enough for the others to arrive.

Romance was quiet while you talked.

Too quiet.

Then, when everyone else had wandered off, he grabbed your wrist—not harsh, just firm—and pulled you toward the hallway.

You raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

“No,” he said, smile gone. “It’s not.”

You blinked.

“I don’t like how casually you treat your own life,” he said, and the way he said it—calm, deadly serious—knocked the air out of you.

“I just didn’t want anyone to get hurt—”

“And what about you?” he cut in. “You think I’d be fine if it was your body on the floor instead of someone else’s?”

You stared at him, stunned.

He reached out and cupped your cheek, gently. “You’re not a pawn. You’re not disposable. You’re the love of my life. Act like it.”

And for once, you didn’t know how to answer.

So you just leaned into his touch, quiet.

Trying to remember how to be someone worth staying alive for.

-------------------

🔥 Baby

You were grinning.

Baby was fuming.

“You taunted Gwi-Ma?” he demanded, pacing so hard the couch creaked under his foot when he kicked it. “And your plan was what? Hope he choked on your sarcasm?!”

You sat at the table, a little singed, a little proud. “He did hesitate.”

“I’m gonna hesitate you into the afterlife,” Baby snapped, running a hand through his hair like he didn’t know whether to yell or combust.

You blinked. “You’re mad.”

“I’m terrified!” he shouted, voice cracking slightly.

That shut you up.

Baby stared at you—eyes wide, furious, terrified.

“You’re not invincible,” he muttered, finally sitting beside you. “You joke like it doesn’t matter. Like you don’t.”

You looked away.

He pulled your chin back, gentle but unrelenting. “If you ever do that again… I won’t be the one who gets burned.”

And when he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours, there was no more heat—just the weight of someone who thought the world would end if you left it.

-------------------

M-List

#kpdh x reader #kpop demon hunters #saja boys x reader #baby x reader #jinu x reader #mystery x reader #abby x reader #romance x reader #kpdh

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my-castles-crumbling · 5 months ago

Text

flower - march 4 - black brothers - jegulus - @black-brothers-microfic - word count: 373

“Reg, you’ll never guess what happened today,” Sirius screeched as soon as Regulus walked through the door.

Feeling rather accosted, Regulus slowly put his coat on the hook and took a few steps inside. “You figured out how to tie your shoes?” he asked dryly, walking past his eager brother into the sitting room.

“Har har,” Sirius rolled his eyes. “No. You got a delivery.”

“You really are a dog,” Regulus smirked. “Getting so excited by the mail? I can practically see your tail wagging.”

“It’s not just any mail, you prat,” Sirius retorted, wrinkling his nose. “You got flowers.”

Regulus paused at this, frowning.

“Right? What kind of guy have you got so hooked that he’s sent you flowers? He must be a total sop! What, does he follow you around like a lost puppy? Let you order him around? I can’t even imagine,” Sirius laughed, eyes bright.

But Regulus just walked into the kitchen and admired the bouquet of red roses standing proudly in a vase on the table. They were all real except one obviously glass rose in the center. He plucked the card from the vase and opened it.

Just wanted to remind you that you deserve all the best things. Please know that I’ll love you until the last rose dies.

Always, James

P.S. The last rose won’t die, see? Because it’s glass? Isn’t that romantic?

Chuckling, Regulus looked back to the flowers, and lightly touched the glass rose, smiling. He was so busy appreciating the very James-like gift, that he didn’t see Sirius creeping up behind him until it was too late.

“Ha! Now I can see who’s obviously gone mad over his love for you,” Sirius yelled triumphantly, snatching the card from Regulus’s hand.

Regulus tried to reach for it, but it was far too late. Sirius was already reading over the note, and it only took seconds for his eyes to go comically wide.

“Oh come on,” Sirius groaned, pressing his hand over his face. “James?”

But Regulus could only grin. “For the record, he doesn’t let me order him around all the time. Sometimes, he-”

“Nope! I don’t want to know any more-” Sirius shouted, storming out of the room, mumbling under his breath.

1K notes · View notes

svt-luna · 1 month ago

Text

𝜗℘ SOLDIER

❛ 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘪 𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯' 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯' 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦— 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯. ❜

timeline: 2024

synposis: At his military training graduation, Jeonghan stands tall as a soldier— but it’s Luna’s surprise arrival that brings him to his knees in love all over again.

wc: 5.9k

warnings: cursing, slightly suggestive (very slight), fluff, flirting, pda, mentions of crying, more fluff, more flirting, more pda, JeongNa!in love, simp!Luna, military jargon i have researched (p.s. i made a few stuffs up with prior research!), mentions of sasaengs

this will be a short one, my loves! also, just a disclaimer! this will focus on Jeonghan’s military training graduation ceremony. and in the Luna-Verse he did his basic training his very first couple of weeks. so! this will take place a few weeks after Him & I (which means this is not Luna and Han’s first time seeing each other in a while!) so check that out if you haven’t already! don’t worry, i made sure i explained and wrote it in a way you guys would understand! happy reading, my loves! 🤍💚

part two: the smut aftermath - Candyman

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

There was not a single damn thing in the universe that could dampen Luna's mood today.

Not the weather.

Not the aching in her back from the twelve-hour flight.

Not the growing pounding in her head from the lack of sleep.

Nothing.

Not even her alarm— the one that usually earned a groggy groan and a violent swipe across her bedside table, managed to irritate her. For the first time in the history of that obnoxious, blaring ringtone, she was waiting for it. She was awake before it even went off, staring at the ceiling of her hotel room with a grin stretching lazily across her face.

"Come on," she whispered at the phone screen, which read 05:59 AM. "Come on, come on, come on-"

BZZZZZZZZZTTT BZZZZZZZZZTTT.

She snatched it off the table like it had personally offended her, but instead of silencing it, she just sat up, let it ring for a few more seconds like it was a chorus, and then grinned even wider. Her heart felt too full for someone who hadn't slept in what felt like decades.

And she didn't care.

She welcomed the exhaustion with open arms because exhaustion meant movement, and movement meant she was one step closer to seeing him.

The flight back to Seoul from Paris had been long, tight, and exhausting. The air felt stale, she had barely eaten, and her jet lag was knocking at her brain. But none of it touched her mood.

Not one bit.

In fact, she was surprised she hadn't offered to drive the damn plane herself. She had half a mind to march into the cockpit and ask the pilot to go faster. "I need to see my fiancé," she imagined herself saying, arms crossed, sunglasses down her nose. "And he's in uniform today. So either you move it, or I will."

Her team had barely kept up with her the moment they landed. Still in jeans and a trench coat, not even passing through home for a shower or change of clothes, she was already ushering everyone to the van with the kind of efficiency that only came with obsession.

Normally, the idea of heading somewhere else instead of home after a flight would've annoyed her to no end.

Home meant bed. Home meant peace. Home meant rest.

But not today.

In fact, home was the last place she wanted to be.

Luna didn't fly all the way back to Seoul just to fall face-first into her couch and scroll through Instagram.

No.

She flew home for him.

Even the unforgiving Seoul traffic couldn't kill her mood. Cars were barely moving. Her manager sighed for the fifth time in five minutes. “Jiyeon-ah, we should've left the airport earlier."

Luna just smiled, tapping her fingers on her knee.

"I'm not even mad," she said, voice smooth, eyes fixed out the window. "They can honk all they want. They're not the ones about to see their fiancé in a military uniform."

That shut everyone up real quick.

The sun was high and merciless by the time they arrived, the kind of heat that made you question all your life choices. Her trench coat was definitely a mistake, but again… it didn't matter. Her mood didn't waver. If anything, she welcomed the heat like it was part of the ceremony itself.

A little suffering made the reward all the sweeter.

Luna stepped out of the van, sunglasses slipping onto the bridge of her nose like armor. She walked across the training field like it was her own personal runway.

The gravel crunched beneath her chunky black boots, designer of course, and her outfit was the perfect blend of off-duty model and military fiancée— wide-leg dark denim pants, a fitted white tank top that peeked from under a crisp oversized khaki button-up, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her her freshly blown-out hair, tucked behind her ears. A simple gold chain glinted at her neck.

Luna didn't want to be too loud, too visible, but… okay, she wanted to look good. She had to look good.

Behind her, her managers and Jeonghan’s managers hustled to keep up, muttering about security and whether they should've coordinated this better, but Luna couldn't hear them anymore. Her eyes were locked on the field ahead, where soon, rows of soldiers were being guided into place.

A sea of camouflage. Rows upon rows of them.

Somewhere in that sea was him.

Jeonghan.

She could barely stop her steps from breaking into a run.

Her lips twitched upward, the excitement nearly bursting out of her skin. "God," she muttered under her breath. "I'm surprised I'm not vibrating."

They made their way to the designated guests' seating area, and even as they moved, she could feel her pulse thumping in her ears like a war drum. Her legs were heavy with anticipation, stomach light with nerves, and still nothing could dampen her mood.

Because today was Jeonghan's basic military training graduation ceremony.

Her Jeonghan.

The same Jeonghan who, just weeks ago, was thrown headfirst into army life with a regulated sleep schedule just like that.

The same Jeonghan who barely survived without his face mist but wrote her long, sappy letters like they were living in a historical drama. The same Jeonghan who snuck in a few calls when he could, telling her to take care of herself and not skip meals, even when he was the one training in freezing weather or the grueling heat.

Luna adjusted her coat as she sat down, heart thudding in her chest. She hadn't seen him in two weeks.

Well… two weeks since the surprise.

That night in Goyang, during the opening concert of their Right Here tour, the lights dimmed and the screams had barely settled when Jeonghan showed up on the big screen like he had never left. Dressed in his usual all black, grin cocky as ever.

The fans lost their minds.

But no one lost it more than Luna.

They'd spent those two days glued to each other. Not even his aching arms or her packed schedule could separate them.

But then he had to go back.

“Just two more weeks,” he said.

And now, here she was.

Returning the favor.

Jeonghan knew her schedule. He knew she had Paris. He knew she had endless solo photoshoots and international press before they kicked off the U.S. leg of the tour next week.

He knew she wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow.

So he won't be expecting her today.

She changed flights. Reorganized schedules. Pulled strings, called favors.

All of it, for him.

And not even the jet lag. Not even the heat. Not even the hellish traffic or the bleary 5AM wake-up could touch her mood.

Because in a few minutes, Yoon Jeonghan was going to step onto that parade ground and see her sitting there, front row, waiting for him.

And he wouldn't see it coming.

But for now… she had to wait. And as she does, she couldn’t help but feel the eyes on her.

Luna had never been a stranger to being looked at.

But there was something about the kind of attention she was getting now— subtle, restrained, like people were trying very hard not to be caught staring that made her lips twitch behind the safety of her sunglasses.

She could feel it, the heat of eyes on her skin, a current in the air buzzing just faintly louder than the cicadas whining under the summer sun.

The guests around her tried to play it cool.

Tried.

A few leaned into each other, whispering. One teenage boy kept glancing over his shoulder so much it looked like he was watching a tennis match. The ajumma two rows ahead was blatantly filming her with her phone, pretending to record the empty stage but angling it far too obviously.

And of course, by the back, there were two people who were definitely not supposed to be there, holding two very not discreet cameras: one pointed directly at the field, and the other fixed, no shame, right at her.

Luna didn't even try to hide the way she rolled her eyes. If anything, she was glad she had sunglasses on. She was pretty sure her pupils had hit the back of her skull.

She exhaled through her nose and adjusted her sunglasses.

"Don't engage," her manager muttered so softly only she could hear. "Let them get their little shots."

And still, not even that could touch her mood.

Because even with that click-click-click of camera shutters and the subtle gasps of "Is that Luna?" echoing in the air, she remained utterly, stubbornly euphoric.

The only thing that might actually kill her right now was the waiting.

She hated waiting.

Patience had never been one of her finer virtues. She could fake it for public events, press interviews, brand deals, maybe even the occasional family dinner.

But now? Sitting here, with her heart racing and eyes scanning the field like it held the holy grail?

Torture.

Her nails tapped a quiet, anxious rhythm against the denim stretched over her knees, too rhythmic to be casual, too restrained to be a full-blown bounce, which was exactly what she wanted to do.

Tap-tap-tap.

Pause.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

She sighed and crossed her legs, then uncrossed them immediately because that made her more jittery. Her manager beside her handed her a small water bottle without a word.

She didn't even drink it. Just held it like it might distract her.

It didn't.

Finally, a voice came over the speakers.

The short welcome announcements began— brief, dry, and formal.

Luna straightened slightly in her seat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the basic military training completion ceremony. Please be seated as we begin."

A murmur of movement. A few last-minute guests shuffled in behind her. The heat settled heavy on her shoulders, but she didn't notice.

The announcer formally opened the ceremony with a clear, practiced tone. "We will now begin the graduation ceremony."

Luna's fingers froze mid-tap.

"Let us honor our nation. All guests, please rise for the playing of the national anthem."

The field turned solemn in an instant. Everyone stood. Some bowed their heads. Soldiers already stationed on the far ends snapped to a sharp salute.

Luna rose too, standing straight between her managers. She had heard the South Korean anthem a hundred times before, but this time it felt different. Grander. Louder. It hit her chest like a drumbeat.

Once the anthem faded, the announcer's voice returned.

"We now welcome the graduating class of the 25 Regimen, 11th Company, 4th Platoon, 3rd Squadron."

And that's when it happened.

Luna's head jerked up, body perking like someone had pulled a string in her spine.

Her entire posture shifted, her mouth parted just slightly. The tapping stopped. Her sunglasses were on but that didn't help. She pushed them up on top of her head in one smooth motion and scanned the field like a hawk.

Rows and rows of soldiers began to march in, each step measured, each line sharp. Boots hit the ground in synchronized thuds. They filed in perfectly, moving like one body.

Her eyes jumped from face to face, trying to pierce through the uniformity. Everyone looked the same from this distance, same camo fatigues, same buzzed heads, same stern expressions.

But he had to be here.

She could feel it.

She sat forward slightly, elbows on knees, ignoring the now even more aggressive stares she was getting for removing her shades.

Then…

A gentle nudge to her shoulder.

Jeonghan's manager.

He leaned in discreetly, pointed across the center left row of soldiers still filing in, and whispered low near her ear, "There. Fifth from the left."

Luna's head whipped toward the direction he gestured, breath caught in her chest— and there he was.

Yoon Jeonghan.

There was no mistaking him now.

Even in matching uniform, even under the rigid posture and lack of expression, he stood out like a firework in daylight.

His gait was slightly more fluid than the rest. His shoulders, broader than she remembered. His buzzcut? It was hidden under his beret but it was clearly short, shorter than she expected and somehow, it worked. His face looked sharper, clean and striking even from this distance. His jaw more defined, his skin glowed as if he wanted people to know where he was.

Luna's smile broke across her face before she could stop it.

Something in her chest twisted tight.

That's my fiancé.

There was a wild thrill building behind her ribs.

She hadn't seen him in uniform before. Not like this.

The photos he managed to sneak to her before were blurry, rushed, and never full-body. But now? Now he was right there, standing tall and proud, and looking like every boyfriend fantasy rolled into one.

Her stomach fluttered.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes dancing as she continued to admire him. The way he squared his shoulders. The way his eyes stayed locked ahead.

He didn't even know she was here yet. He didn't have a clue.

And that made it all the better.

He looked… strong. Disciplined. Different, but still so utterly him.

And Luna?

Luna loved it.

She couldn't stop looking at him.

Luna had seen Yoon Jeonghan in every stage of his life— barefaced, bed-headed, sulky at 4am, radiant on stage, sunlit and soft after showers, smug and teasing across practice rooms… but this?

This uniformed, serious, clean-cut version of him?

It wrecked her.

The way the military fatigues hugged his frame should've been a crime.

The standard-issue belt cinched his already tiny waist, the sleeves just barely pushed up enough to expose those forearms— those forearms, slightly tanned and taut from weeks of outdoor drills.

Even from this distance, she could see the way he carried himself.

Regal. Effortless. Shoulders squared, spine tall, chin slightly lifted like he was born for this.

And then his face… God, his face-stoic and expressionless, and yet she swore he still looked like he was plotting something.

Like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on her.

And he hadn't even seen her yet.

She knew she wasn't supposed to be staring this hard.

The ceremony was still going. Someone was giving a speech she could hear the vague, muffled cadence of words echoing through the speakers.

Something about pride. Loyalty. Service. But Luna? Luna wasn't processing a single syllable.

It was all white noise behind the hum of blood in her ears and the sight of Jeonghan standing still, looking like he walked straight out of a fever dream in camo print.

He didn't stand out because she recognized him.

Not because he was her fiancé.

Not even because he was a well-known idol with a face that had graced billboards across the globe.

No.

He stood out because he was Yoon Jeonghan.

Because even if she hadn't known him, had never laid eyes on him before in her life, her gaze still would've found him. Her breath still would've caught. Something in her chest still would've paused, some ancient instinct whispering, There. That one. Him.

And oh, has she talked about the way he wore that uniform yet? (yes she has). She'd been teasing him for weeks over the phone, threatening to steal his uniform and wear it herself just to see his reaction. But now that she saw it in real life, tight in all the right places, slightly wrinkled at the waist, with his name embroidered neatly over his heart?

She didn't want to wear it.

She wanted him to wear it while standing between her legs with that exact same unreadable expression, only this time in her bedroom.

Woah… what?!

Luna let out a slow, silent exhale, blinking as if that would calm her thoughts. It didn't. She folded her arms and subtly pressed her thighs together.

God help her, she was having unholy thoughts in a military base.

She looked back at him, smiling softly, head tilted as she watched his jaw flex slightly while standing at attention.

He looked grown. He looked… strong.

And still, even beneath all that discipline and formality, she could see him, her Jeonghan, the one who pulled her into bed by her ankles, who always had a smug comment ready, who pressed kisses to the inside of her wrist when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

Luna was sure she had heart-eyes.

She must've been staring too hard. She knew she was.

The kind of stare that could set skin on fire, the kind of gaze that carved tunnels through distance and reason and logic because suddenly, impossibly, Jeonghan turned his head.

Right there, in the middle of formal military formation, as uniformed men stood stock-still in proud discipline with heads facing forward and backs ramrod straight, he turned his head.

And looked straight at her.

For a second, Luna's breath caught mid-inhale. Her body went rigid, the sound of the ceremony dulling beneath the roar in her ears.

Jeonghan didn't flinch. He didn't smile. Not right away.

He stared. Just stared.

And then, the corners of his eyes crinkled, barely perceptible, just enough for her to see.

A double take.

Subtle. Too quick for anyone else to catch— anyone but her. Because she knew every micro-expression etched onto that face like the back of her hand. She saw it.

First the stillness.

Then the slight flicker of disbelief behind his dark eyes. Then-

A twitch of his brow.

A small, slow widening of his eyes. Not by much, not enough for the stern commander two rows ahead of him to notice.

But Luna caught it. Luna felt it.

And then… there it was.

That smirk.

That trademark, godforsaken, infuriating Jeonghan smirk— lazy and lopsided, smug and amused, like he'd just caught the biggest secret in the room and tucked it under his tongue to chew on later.

His eyes didn't linger. He didn't gawk. He looked, smirked, and then turned his head back forward, shoulders still as ever, the corners of his mouth threatening rebellion even as the ceremony continued around him.

But his mood had shifted.

She saw it.

His whole posture had lightened. His shoulders rolled back more confidently. His chin tilted up just slightly. He looked taller. He looked pleased.

And even from where she sat, Luna could feel it, that familiar current of mischief crackling just beneath his skin. The one that meant he'd seen her, clocked her presence, and now planned to torment her with it in the most excruciating, unspoken ways until the moment they were alone again.

And Luna?

Luna almost melted into a goddamn puddle right there in her seat.

She felt her knees buckle even though she was sitting down. Her palms went clammy where they rested on her thighs, her perfectly-manicured nails now lightly indenting the soft fabric of her pants. Her throat constricted, mouth parting just slightly as her stomach did a violent somersault, like her body was fourteen again and her crush just called her pretty in the school hallway.

Her entire body buzzed with the weight of that look, like it had tunneled through her bones and planted itself somewhere near her spine.

She could hear her own heartbeat.

Goddamn him, Luna thought, eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to cool the blush creeping up her neck. She pressed her lips together, trying to fight the stupid grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. She even turned slightly away, burying her face halfway in her hand under the guise of adjusting her sunglasses on top of her head.

It was so stupid. So ridiculous.

But he always did this to her.

Only he could do this to her.

Because Luna, the Luna— top idol, composed, confident, always unbothered, was blushing like an idiot in public because her fiancé smirked at her. Because he saw her, like he always did, like he always would. And worse, he knew what it did to her. He could read her fluster like a goddamn map.

Luna exhaled slowly through her nose, shaking her head with a tiny, breathless laugh as she pulled herself together.

No one would know. No one saw that. That was between them.

But inside?

Inside she was screaming. Kicking her feet. Blushing down to her soul.

Yoon Jeonghan was the only person on earth who could make Luna feel like this.

And the worst part?

He absolutely knew it.

The ceremony continued, but for Luna, everything blurred at the edges.

She heard the voices of the commanding officers, distant and muffled, as though underwater. The echo of a patriotic speech rippled through the speakers, and everyone around her politely nodded, clapped, stood on cue. But Luna didn't move. Her hands were folded on her lap, her sunglasses still perched on top of her head, and her entire body tilted forward ever so slightly as her eyes stayed rooted on one person only.

Yoon Jeonghan.

Everything else faded. The banners, the salutes, the line of soldiers standing proud with their chin high and boots aligned to exact angles— it was all background noise to her. The sounds, the ceremony, even the scorching sun overhead-they were like static behind a single clear radio frequency locked on Jeonghan.

She admired how still he stood, how confident he looked in uniform, how the rigid posture suited him in a way that somehow still whispered of his playful nature. She had half the mind to laugh. How could a man in strict military attire still look like he was plotting something mischievous behind his eyes?

With a final salute and a crisp bow to the national flag, the ceremony officially ended.

Just before the chairs around them scraped and the rustling of families preparing to head down began, a tall figure in uniform approached them discreetly. He was a senior officer, lean and polite with a neutral face that softened slightly as he addressed them.

"Ma’am," he said with a quiet nod, eyes flicking to the two managers beside her. "We've been instructed to escort you to Private Yoon before the crowd goes down the field. It'll be less chaotic that way."

Luna blinked, straightening in her seat. She could feel her heart hammering.

"Right now?" she asked, rising slowly, brushing invisible wrinkles off her pants.

The senior officer gave a curt, respectful nod. "Please follow me. He's still in formation, but we'll intercept him quietly before the families approach."

Jeonghan's manager exchanged a quick glance with hers and offered a small smile. "Let's go," he said, nudging his head slightly for her to follow the officer.

Luna didn't need to be told twice.

She stood up, slid her sunglasses back over her eyes and began walking, her heeled boots clicking lightly against the pavement. Her pace was steady, her expression composed, but inside, anticipation pulsed like an electric current.

They followed the officer as he made his way across the small barricade and onto the side of the field, where the line of graduating soldiers remained standing in their rows.

As they reached the edge, the officer turned his head and called, firm but quiet, "Private Yoon."

Jeonghan, still standing in line, turned his head slightly at the sound of his name. His brow quirked in that familiar, instinctive way, curious, calculating, aware. His eyes scanned across the field, and then landed on her.

Luna.

Walking toward him.

Even with the sunlight behind her and the sunglasses obscuring half her face, he knew. The way his mouth twitched was all the confirmation she needed— he'd understood immediately.

Jeonghan's head dipped briefly in acknowledgment to the officer before he pivoted from his position, stepping out of formation with precise steps that somehow still looked relaxed. His walk was smooth, purposeful, confident, and as he made his way toward the back of the field, his gaze barely flickered from Luna's direction.

And hers, from his.

They were walking towards each other now. One measured step after another. It wasn't fast. It wasn't frantic. But the air between them thickened like it was laced with something electric, something magnetic, pulling them closer with every passing second.

And then…

At the far back of the field, where the crowd thinned and trees cast narrow strips of shade, Jeonghan veered right. It was quiet there. The kind of quiet they needed.

Luna didn't wait another second.

She jogged.

Boots clicking faster now, hair bouncing behind her, her grin uncontrollable and wide, she sprinted the remaining steps toward him, and when she reached him, she jumped.

"God, I missed you," she breathed with a giddy laugh as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Jeonghan caught her in one swift motion, his arm automatically slipping beneath her thighs, scooping her up like she weighed nothing at all. He didn't stop walking. Just kept moving, like carrying her was second nature, like she belonged there, with her body curled around his.

Luna giggled again, the kind that trembled slightly from relief and joy and disbelief. Her face tucked into the crook of his neck, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, as if grounding herself in the fact that he was here and she was here and this wasn't a dream.

And Jeonghan?

He was smiling. Wide. Proud. Radiant.

Like she was the only person in the world that mattered.

Like this— her in his arms-was his prize for surviving the four hardest weeks of his life.

People were pointing. Filming. Whispering. Some were already reaching for their phones. And both of them saw it.

And neither of them gave a single damn.

Because when it came to moments like this, everything else faded.

All they saw was each other.

Once they reached the end and once the two sasaengs who unbeknownst to them had managed to sneak and follow after them were finally intercepted and escorted away by security— kicking, complaining, lenses still clicking in desperate vain, Jeonghan gently set Luna down onto her feet.

It wasn't particularly graceful. His arms lingered a second too long around her waist, and hers curled just a bit tighter around his shoulders before slipping down. There was a subtle hesitation in letting go, like gravity itself was annoyed at being reunited with them.

When Luna looked up at him, her smile was soft, but undeniable. The kind of smile that made breathing a little harder for whoever it was directed at. "Hello," she said quietly, brushing invisible lint off his chest, her fingers trailing just a little longer than they needed to.

Jeonghan's mouth pulled into that smirk, the one she'd recognize with her eyes closed, the one that warned trouble, flirtation, and safety all in the same breath. "Hi."

They stood close. Too close for public decency but far too far for the ache in their chests.

Luna's hands drifted up to his uniform without thinking, smoothing the slightly crooked edge of his collar, flattening the fabric over his chest. Her fingertips grazed the edge of the name tag, her thumb brushing the curve of the his embroidered name. She adjusted his beret next with delicate precision, even though it was perfectly fine.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan's hand moved with idle care along her arm, stroking up and down from wrist to elbow like he couldn't help himself. The pad of his thumb skimmed the sensitive skin just above her elbow, and he leaned in slightly, breath fanning the edge of her hair as his eyes drank her in up close.

"Sneaky girl," he murmured, tugging his beret off entirely and raking a hand through the minimal length of his buzzed hair. "You always surprise me when I least expect it."

Luna smiled, slow and teasing, head tilted as she let her gaze trace the slope of his jaw. "And yet somehow you still act like you knew I'd be here."

"I didn't." He grinned. "But now I'm wondering if I manifested it."

She blinked, one brow raised. "You manifest me a lot, huh?"

"Only every night."

She chuckled, biting her lip. Her hands, traitorous and sure, slid down from his collar and rested over his chest. "You look good, soldier."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow and stepped closer, so close that the edge of her heels bumped the toes of his boots. "Yeah? You into this, Nana-ya?”

"I won't lie," she said, glancing at the collar again, then letting her eyes trail a little lower. "It's… doing… things."

"Good things?"

"Dangerous things."

His smirk stretched wider. "Should I keep it on later, then?"

"Only if you're okay with me taking it off."

"Oh, I was counting on that, baby."

A beat.

The kind of silence where everything else around them dimmed. A bird chirped somewhere. A camera clicked somewhere. Neither noticed. Neither would care.

They stared at each other.

Jeonghan's eyes dropped to her lips. Luna tilted her chin up, ever so slightly.

"Did you miss me?" she asked, voice soft but steady, like the question had been clawing at her throat for weeks and she'd only now let it free.

Jeonghan didn't speak. He didn't have to. He reached forward and caught her wrist in his hand, pulling her into him, close enough for her perfume to invade what little space he had left for air.

"Every second," he said lowly, eyes serious now, intense, fond. "I don't even know how I survived it."

"Four weeks," she whispered, her palm now flat against the firm rise of his chest. "I almost went insane, Jeongie.”

He grinned, playful again, like it had never left. "Did you cry?"

"I had wine."

"Same thing."

She laughed, bumping her forehead gently against his in affection, the moment so utterly theirs that it didn't matter the faint murmurs behind the fences or the guards pacing nearby.

"You're so annoying," she mumbled.

"You love it."

"I really, really do."

Then he kissed her.

There wasn't a countdown. There wasn't hesitation.

Just him leaning down and her rising up on her toes. His hand cradled the back of her head with such care it made her knees weak, while her fingers clutched at his collar, his chest, anything to ground herself as their lips met with the force of everything they hadn't said the past month.

It was slow and unhurried. But deliberate. Thorough.

The kind of kiss that says I missed you so much I almost lost my mind.

The kind of kiss that says You're home.

And nothing else existed.

Not the soldiers breaking formation in the distance.

Not the reporters being escorted further off.

Not the families and visitors running to greet their love ones.

Not the ache in Jeonghan's back or the jetlag in Luna's bones.

Just them— back in their orbit.

Eventually, when they pulled apart, breaths short and foreheads still resting together, Jeonghan sighed as though releasing the final weight of the last four weeks. His hand dropped to her waist and gave it a soft squeeze, grounding them.

"You're real," he murmured.

"You're sweaty," she murmured back.

He grinned. "Still turned on though?"

She rolled her eyes with a laugh, smacking his chest, but didn't step away. Instead, she reached up again and gently tucked back a strand of her own hair that had caught between them, only for Jeonghan to beat her to it, brushing it behind her ear and letting his fingers trail down the side of her neck.

"You like the buzz?" he asked, wiggling his brows.

"I'm… getting used to it," she admitted. "You're lucky your face is still handsome."

"Only still?"

"I'll give it a nine. Out of ten."

He scoffed, dramatically offended. "Jiyeonie."

"Okay, okay. Fine. An eleven."

Jeonghan leaned in, nose brushing hers. "Better."

"I'll shave your eyebrows next time though, just to test the limits… to see if your beauty will withstand.” Luna teased with a smirk.

"I'll marry you either way."

That made her pause, biting back the grin that threatened to consume her entire face. She blinked up at him, expression soft and betraying just how ruined she was by his easy charm.

"Yoon Jeonghan."

"Yes?"

"Stop flirting or I'll kiss you again."

"Not exactly the punishment you think it is."

And Luna did kiss him again— short, snappy, a soft peck to shut him up. She pulled back just as his hands gripped at her sides tighter like he didn't want to let her go.

"God, I missed you," he said again, breathless this time.

Before Luna could respond, Jeonghan’s manager stepped in with a slightly sheepish cough. "Sorry to interrupt the early honeymoon, but we've been told it's time to head out."

Jeonghan playfully groaned and joked. "One more minute."

Luna chuckled, brushing his hand but intertwining her fingers with his. "We'll make up for it later."

"Promise?" he asked, bringing her knuckles to his lips.

She smirked. "Better keep that uniform on just in case."

And with that, fingers still laced and grins still lingering, they followed their managers back toward the waiting van, the sounds of the crowd behind them faded into nothing more than a distant hum, as if the world had the decency to quiet down just for them.

Jeonghan’s grip on her hand stayed firm, his thumb brushing softly along her knuckles, while Luna leaned into his side like her body knew exactly where it belonged. Every step they took was unhurried, like neither of them was in any rush to let the moment go. Her head tilted gently toward his shoulder, and his chin rested briefly atop her hair.

It was nothing grand or dramatic— just the quiet, comforting rhythm of two people slipping back into each other like no time had passed at all.

And as they disappeared behind the tinted doors, the last glimpse of them was simple… a boy in uniform, and the girl who crossed oceans and showed up just to remind him he was always worth waiting for and that he was loved in every version, in every season, and in every wait.

[part two: the smut aftermath - Candyman]

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buckybarnes82 · 29 days ago

Text

Silent treatment

Summary: You forget your annual plans with Bucky and instead of him telling you directly why he’s upset he gives you the silent treatment leaving you to figure it out for yourself.

Warnings and authors notes: Angst and the mention of anxiety medication. Alpine is also briefly mentioned.

Bucky wasn’t much of a talker. You did most of the talking 98% of your relationship, but you knew the difference between comfortable silence and intentional silence. Bucky sat at the kitchen table. His long hair was a knotty mess. He was wearing dirty pajamas. He was nursing his coffee mug and scribbling in a notebook. He flexed his hand, you assumed he had been writing for a while, and it was starting to hurt.

You noticed immediately that he hadn’t taken your mug out of the cupboard. You quietly sighed, standing on your tip-toes struggling to reach your mug, and turned to put the kettle on the stovetop to make your morning tea.

“Good morning. Did you have a long night? I didn’t hear you come in.” You mumbled awkwardly, wondering why he was so distant. Bucky hadn’t slept in bed with you last night, and you weren’t entirely sure when he got home. It was the first time since he moved in that he didn’t share a bed, and you couldn’t wrap your head around why.

He raised his eyebrows a little acknowledging your voice but didn’t respond, scratching at his beard before he stood up to leave, slamming the notebook shut dramatically. He pushed his chair in, intentionally making a loud screech against the kitchen floor.

“James? Hello?” You stepped to follow him but the kettle started to make noise, Bucky silently thanked the universe for its silent favor and walked to your shared bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, dozing out as your tea bags steeped in your cup. You and Bucky rarely argued, you hated it when other couples said that but in this case, it happened to be true.

You took a sip of your tea, putting it back down on the counter before you quietly walked to your bedroom worried that if he heard you he’d bolt again. It startled you when Bucky opened the door quickly before you could come inside. He had a backpack on, tactical gear, and a pensive look on his face.

“Where are you going? It’s Sunday!” you hummed, the two of you usually spending the day in together.

“Just Sunday huh?” he mumbled, the only words he had said to you all morning. “Excuse me” he brushed past you softly, although he was frustrated his touch was still delicate and soft.

“We always have a movie marathon on Sundays” you potted and started to internally worry now that Bucky was obviously bailing on your usual plans. “Can you just tell me why you’re upset? So I can fix it? I don’t like that you’re mad.” You pleaded as he grabbed his keys off the hook on the wall.

“Not mad, just disappointed. I’ll be out with Sam, don’t wait up.” He finally looked at you, really looked at you and you could tell he had been crying by his swollen eyelids, but Bucky would never admit it. You stepped closer to him, and he held a hand up to stop you before leaving out the front door.

“What the hell” you groaned out loud, racking your brain as you sat down on the couch. Did I forget his birthday? No that’s in March. Did I forget our anniversary? No that’s in May. What the fuck? You turned the TV on trying to distract yourself but one of Buckys favorite movies flashed on the screen and now the pit of your stomach ached more intensely.

You stood up, walking to the bedroom again, and saw Alpine your fluffy white sidekick sitting on the corner of the bed. She loudly mewed at you, rubbing her body against yours as you stood in front of her.

“I know Al- I feel awful. I don’t know what I did and I don’t know how to fix it.”

You sat down on the bed and heard a loud thump hit the hardwood, peeking over the bed you saw Buckys journal, it must have fallen out from under his pillow. You picked it up, pausing for a moment before placing it back under his pillow without thinking when Alpine mewed again.

“I don’t think I should do that Alpine. It wouldn’t be right, that’s an invasion of your dad’s privacy” you sighed, as she licked your hand lovingly.

You spent the day cleaning the apartment, baking Buckys' favorite cookies, and meal prepping for the week for both of you. Bucky hadn’t checked in once, which felt like a twist of the knife. You text Sam to check in and he was very dry and to the point, which was expected but he let you know Bucky was alive and well and that’s all that mattered.

It was 8 pm when you heard the first loud boom outside of your apartment, followed by tons of follow-up commotion. Alpine scurried under your couch at the loud noise.

“What the hell?” You peeked out the window, thickly realizing it was big bright fireworks, illuminating the sky and finally everything came to a head.

“Oh my- is today Fourth of July?” You checked the date on your phone and suddenly you made the connection.

“I’m officially the worst girlfriend ever.”

You checked the oven a final time, making sure you had actually turned it off, and looked around for Buckys anxiety medication. The fireworks were by far his least favorite thing about today, and he didn’t have to say it out loud for you to know that, pocketing them as you ran out of your apartment frantic to go find him.

Bucky was in the lobby when you made it down from the elevator, your eyes wide as he was about to step inside it. He had in his noise-canceling headphones already and you dug in your pocket for the pill bottle as the elevator carried you both back to your apartment. He smiled softly at you, taking one headphone out, taking the medication from you, and realizing now that you finally understood what today was as he dry swallowed them.

“I’m so sorry baby. I didn’t realize it was that Fourth of July until I heard the fireworks. I didn’t mean to miss celebrating Steve’s birthday! I never meant to hurt you, you have to know that.”

The elevator doors opened and he followed you back inside your shared apartment.

“We celebrate his birthday a day early every year Y/N. It was your idea to keep his memory alive, a day all about Steve. We all waited for you at Sam’s last night.” His voice was laced with sorrow, which made the guilt eat you alive especially knowing everyone else knew you forgot too.

Bucky shuddered slightly when he heard a firework explode in the air. You shuddered at him using your real first name.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you to remember things that are important to me.”

“You’re right baby, you shouldn’t! And I’m so sorry. I’d never intentionally forget. I know how much Steve means to you. I’m so sorry, I really am.” Your lip trembled and Bucky finally looked at you, stepping toward you and wrapping his arms around you. You let out a sigh of relief at his touch.

“I know honey, I know that” he let out a breath, like he had been holding it all day. He started to rub your back as he held you close. He felt guilty for being so upset with you, and giving you the silent treatment instead of just talking to you about it.

“I should’ve talked to you instead of shutting you out, and I’m sorry for that” he admitted, pulling back to look you in the eyes, both of you having teary expressions.

“What if we celebrate tomorrow, just us? I can buy a cake and we can watch one of Steve’s favorite movies? I’ll even decorate the house! I’ll get some decorations on clearance!” You couldn’t help but giggle, knowing Bucky would happily oblige.

“I’d really like that” he leaned down, softly kissing your lips for the first time today, a wave of relief coming over both of you.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky x reader #my writing

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heliosunny · 25 days ago

Note

I'm thinking a lot about vampire yandere dan Heng.

Instead of a dragon why not a vampire? Imagine when the reader joins the crew of the express and dan Heng never had any trouble with his hunger for blood until reader appears.. he goes mad and HAD to lure reader to his room to have a sip of her blood.. you can make this a fic if your comfortable i don't really mind I had to share this with someone.

🦐

Yan!Vampire!Dan Heng x Fem!Reader

>>First week on the Astral Express<<

The Astral Express wasn’t what you expected.

You thought it’d be all grand adventures and cosmic wonders, instead, it was mostly Pom-Pom yelling at you for leaving oil stains on the floor.

Well, as a mechanic trainee and an inventor, you supposed you will get used to things soon.

Welt would pass by sometimes, nod sagely, and then drop some cryptic line like "Back in my day, blablablabla..." before vanishing down the hall.

And then there was Dan Heng.

At first glance, he was exactly what you’d expect from the brooding, mysterious type—quiet, like he was mentally cataloging every possible way you might die. But then you noticed the little things.

Like how he’d linger near the engine room when you were working, keeping an eye on you. Or how, when you sliced your hand open on a busted pipe, he wordlessly handed you a clean cloth and then walked away like he hadn’t just saved you from bleeding all over Pom-Pom’s freshly polished floors.

Life was almost… nice.

The Express had been humming along peacefully when suddenly—

SCREEEEEEE—

The entire train lurched like it had been kicked. Alarms shrieked. Somewhere, a pipe burst, spraying steam everywhere.

Pom-Pom’s voice crackled over the intercom, somehow both panicked and exasperated: "EMERGENCY STOP! PROPULSION CORE FAILURE!!"

You skidded into the front cabin just in time to see the planet looming in the viewport.

It was gold. Not metaphorically. Literally.

"Chrona-Vallis." Welt said, rubbing his temples like he already regretted this. "You four head to the city. Try not to touch anything."

March grinned. "No promises."

The descent was rough. A massive, gleaming clockwork world, its surface covered in rotating towers.

The city was nothing like you’d imagined.

Brass bridges arched overhead like spiderwebs. Glass streets showed gears turning beneath your feet. Gondolas zipped between towers, and everywhere, there were clocks. All ticking.

"This place is… weirdly empty." March said, snapping pictures.

Dan Heng’s voice was low. "Too quiet."

You walked, footsteps echoing. Then there. A skittering noise, like metal claws on metal. You froze. So did Dan Heng.

"You hear that?" you whispered.

His hand moved toward his weapon. "Something’s in the gears."

March laughed nervously. "Maybe it’s just how this place runs?"

But the look on Dan Heng’s face said otherwise. "We should hurry."

You quickened your pace, the sound of ticking all around, and for the first time, you realized that none of the clocks here ever struck a chime.

The streets were too empty.

You walked under arches shaped like clock hands, past market stalls full of goods no one had touched. The whole place felt like a stage set—perfectly arranged, waiting for actors who hadn’t shown up yet.

The only sign of life was a hotel.

The Ticker’s Respite, its neon sign hummed, perched on a platform that turned slowly, like the hour hand of some giant clock. Inside, the air smelled like oil and old wood. A thin man with a bright smile and a gleaming monocle greeted you.

"Visitors! And in the daylight, too." he said, like this was surprising. "You'll want rooms before the city wakes up."

You glanced at the others. March raised an eyebrow.

"People here work at night." the man explained, spinning a ledger on a gear-driven mechanism. His fingers were long. "The metal gets temperamental in the sun. Too much heat, and the clockwork starts sticking. So we sleep now. When the moons rise, that’s when everything starts moving."

March leaned in. "So it’s like… a ghost town, but backwards?"

The man’s smile didn’t waver. "Exactly."

Rooms were assigned, you with Dan Heng, March with Stelle. As night fell, deep bells rang somewhere in the city’s heart, slow and steady. Then, one by one, lights flickered on. And the people came out.

March clapped her hands. "Alright! Stelle and I will take the west side. I have to see that gear-fountain thing."

You didn’t doubt she’d get distracted.

Dan Heng shifted beside you. "We’ll go east."

The shop was cramped, shelves rotating on tracks, packed with gears and springs and things you didn’t have names for. The clerk barely glanced up. "Take what you need." he muttered. "Just don’t touch the hammer."

You reached for a cog and the moment your fingers brushed it, pain licked up your fingertip.

"Ow—!" You jerked back, instinctively sticking the cut in your mouth.

Dan Heng was there in an instant.

But he didn’t say anything.

He just… stopped. Went very still. His eyes darkened, jaw tightening like he was holding his breath.

You pulled your finger away, embarrassed. "Sorry. I’ll bandage it."

He didn’t respond. Instead, his head turned sharply, gaze locking onto the window.

"...We’re not alone."

You followed his stare.

There, just for a second, a shadow flickered past the glass. Too fast to be a person. Then again, in the reflection of a polished gear display.

Dan Heng’s hand settled on his spear. "It’s fast."

The thing didn’t stay. It slipped between alleyways, vanished into the turning mechanisms underfoot. But the feeling of being watched didn’t leave. You hurried through the rest of the list, grabbing what you could, but half the parts were missing.

"Let’s go." Dan Heng said.

Outside, the city had shifted. You walked close to Dan Heng, the bag of parts clinking softly at your side.

"Was that thing… hunting us?" you asked quietly.

He took a moment to answer.

"I don't know." he said at last, "But we should head back to the hotel."

You gripped the bag strap tighter. Suddenly, the missing parts didn’t seem so important.

The hotel room hummed with the quiet rhythm of the city, gears turning somewhere deep in the walls. You sat on the edge of your bed, carefully wrapping your injured finger with fresh bandages. The cut stung, but it was shallow.

Dan Heng stood by the window, silhouetted against the glow of the night-lit city.

"...Sorry" you said, breaking the silence. "For the mess. And, uh. Sharing a room like this. I didn’t know if it’d be inconvenient."

He didn't turn. "It’s fine. You should be more careful with sharp components, though. Especially around me."

You tried to laugh it off, but his words hung in the air, heavier than you expected.

After checking in with Himeko (who promised to research any reports of shadow creatures), exhaustion finally pulled you under. The last thing you remembered was the steady ticking of the city's heartbeat, lulling you to sleep.

Dan Heng didn't sleep.

He sat against the far wall, watching the play of lantern light across the ceiling. The scent still lingered, tempting. He could hear your heartbeat even now, steady and slow in sleep.

He shouldn't. He knew better.

But the hunger was a living thing tonight, coiled tight in his chest.

Just a little closer.

He moved silently, drawn to your sleeping form like a compass needle finding north. The curtains fluttered as he leaned over you, close enough to feel the warmth of your breath. His fangs ached.

His lips brushed your skin, just once, barely a touch.

Then he was across the room again, back against the wall, fists clenched. The hunger retreated, sated for now.

By morning, he was gone.

You woke to an empty room and a strange tenderness at your neck.

"...Huh?"

The bathroom mirror showed a faint bruise, small, barely noticeable unless you looked closely. You poked at it, frowning. Had you bumped into something in your sleep?

You received a text from Dan Heng:

"Gone to secure remaining parts. Regroup at noon."

Typical.

Downstairs, March accosted you the moment you entered the hotel's dining area, her mouth full of some kind of gear-shaped pastry. "Sleep well? You look like you fought a clockwork monster!"

Stelle sipped her coffee. "Where's Dan Heng?"

"He left early," you said, adjusting your scarf. "Said he'd get the last two parts."

March gasped. "Without us? Rude!" She leaned in, whispering dramatically, "Do you think he's hiding a secret clockwork girlfriend?"

You choked on your tea.

Stelle smirked. "More likely he just didn't want to deal with March's 'efficient shopping methods.'"

But as their bickering continued, your fingers strayed to your neck again.

The silence stretched too long. Three messages sent, no reply. Not even when March bombarded him with those ridiculous Pom-Pom stickers - the angry ones with the little conductor hat.

You all stood in the hotel lobby.

Stelle didn’t waste words. “Something’s wrong.” She pulled up the list Dan Heng had been working through, the map glowing faintly on her screen. “He should’ve checked these shops by now. Maybe the junction factory next.”

March wasn’t laughing anymore. “If he was just busy, he’d at least send something.”

You didn’t argue. Your stomach had been sinking since you woke up to an empty room.

The streets were too quiet. You followed the signs: a scuffed door latch here, deep scratches in the brass plating there. Something had dragged its way through these alleys.

A sharp ping!

March’s ice arrow shot past your shoulder and struck something dark moving behind you. The shadow screeched before freezing solid and shattering on the ground.

You stared at the glittering shards. “What was that?”

Stelle’s sword was already out, her eyes scanning the shifting darkness. “Doesn’t matter. There’s more.”

Your phone buzzed.

Himeko’s message glowed on the screen:

Metallovores. Metal-eating predators. Shadow form at night, most active during daylight. Do NOT engage alone.

“He didn’t know,” you whispered. “He thought day was safer, but it's the opposite.”

The factory looked like a carcass picked clean.

Rusted gears jutted from broken walls. The air smelled like burnt oil and something sour. Everywhere—scratches, dents, shattered equipment.

Then March pointed. “There!”

Up on the mezzanine, Dan Heng lay slumped against the wall, half-hidden behind a broken gear. His coat was torn, his sleeve nearly ripped off. Blood soaked through the fabric at his shoulder, and a nasty gash ran across his ribs. His breathing was shallow, uneven.

Stelle got him back to the hotel. You admitted she was strong.

You were at his side in seconds, digging through your first aid kit. You worked fast, ignoring the way your pulse hammered in your ears.

“Stable,” you muttered finally, sitting back. “But barely.”

March fidgeted nearby. For once, she had nothing to say.

Then, abruptly, she forced a smile. “Hey, uh—Stelle and I are gonna grab food. You hungry? We’ll bring back something hot.”

“...Yeah. Thanks.”

They left quickly.

And just before the door shut, you saw them exchange a look.

They knew something.

And whatever it was, it had to do with Dan Heng.

You sat by Dan Heng's bedside, your fingers still aching from stitching his wounds. The others had gone to scavenge supplies, leaving you to keep watch.

Dan Heng's hand twitched. You leaned forward just as his eyes flew open—but something was wrong.

"Dan Heng—?"

His hand shot out faster than you could react. One sharp tug, and you were pulled down, your shoulder hitting the mattress beside him. His breath was hot against your neck.

"Wait—!"

The pain came sharp and sudden.

You gasped as his fangs pierced your skin, your hands flying up to clutch at his arms. But he didn't seem to hear you. His body trembling as he drank, and as he did, the worst of his wounds began to knit back together before your eyes.

You felt the tension drain from him all at once. He pulled back, his eyes wide with dawning horror. Blood stained his lips.

"...No. I wasn't—"

But the room was already spinning. The last thing you heard was the door slamming open and March's shocked cry.

You woke to the smell of soup and the weight of a blanket over your shoulders. Your neck ached, but the pain was dull now.

Three faces watched you as you stirred.

March, guilt written plainly in her expression. Stelle, her usual calm replaced with something uneasy. And Dan Heng—his head bowed, his shoulders stiff, like a man awaiting judgment.

"...You bit me." you croaked.

His fingers tightened around his knees. "I did."

March fidgeted. "We should've told you. About... him."

Stelle cut to the chase. "Dan Heng's a vampire. It's usually under control."

“It is under control,” Dan Heng muttered bitterly. “Unless I’m dying.”

You let that sink in.

"So I was the only one who didn't know?"

March winced. "It's not that we didn't trust you! It's just... he doesn't like people being afraid of him."

Stelle nodded. "He's not a monster."

You met Dan Heng's eyes.

"...I know."

He looked up, surprised.

You sat up slowly, wincing as the blanket slid off your shoulders. "But next time," you said, rubbing your sore neck, "ask."

March let out a weak laugh and pushed a bowl of soup into your hands. "Eat. You lost a lot of blood."

Later, as you all huddled around a makeshift table, you brought up the creature again.

"It turns to shadow at night. But it's solid during the day."

Stelle tapped her fingers against the table. "We could trap it."

You pulled out your sketchpad. "I was thinking electromagnetic coils. Mimic the Express's energy signature, lure it into a choke point, then hit it with quick-freeze gel."

March grinned. "Bait and snap. I like it."

Dan Heng finally spoke. "I'll be bait."

You frowned. "No."

He held your gaze. "I can smell them before they strike. I'll keep us ahead of them."

You sighed.

"...Deal."

You texted Himeko the plan. Her reply came fast: Understood. Be safe.

You looked at the others, a spark of determination in your chest.

"Alright. Let's catch some monsters."

You and Dan Heng worked side by side. The scent of hot metal and ozone filled the air as you adjusted the last copper coil, its surface still warm from the energy pulsing through it. Around you, the city's gears turned steadily, a comforting reminder that time hadn't stopped.

At first, the citizens had watched from a distance, their brass goggles glinting in the lamplight. But when March, ever the showman, declared you all "monster-hunting engineers of legendary skill." something changed.

An old woman with grease-stained gloves brought reinforced plating.

Children carefully carried armfuls of glowing crystals.

A welder offered his prized arc igniter.

Their fear melted into something warmer, brighter. Hope.

By midnight, the first trap snapped shut.

By dawn, four creatures lay frozen and shattered at your feet.

As the last Metallovore dissolved into glittering fragments, the plaza erupted in cheers. A small boy, no older than six, with oil-smudged cheeks, pressed a handmade medal into your palm.

"For saving us." he whispered, beaming.

You knelt to accept it.

Dan Heng stood nearby, silent as ever. But when the crowd surged forward to celebrate, you caught his gaze lingering. His fingers flexed slightly at his sides, as if stopping himself from reaching out.

The next morning, the city's leaders came bearing gifts.

Crates of polished parts gleamed in the sunlight, far more than you'd asked for. Pom-Pom nearly collapsed at the sight, tiny paws clutching at their conductor's hat.

"Free?! FREE?! Finally, someone who understands the value of good craftsmanship!"

You laughed, wiping grease from your hands. The repairs went smoother than expected, the Express humming contentedly as new components settled into place.

That evening found you in the engine room, sleeves rolled up, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat. Welt stood nearby, nodding approvingly as you ran the final diagnostics.

"Good work." he said, adjusting his glasses. "The integration is seamless."

You rubbed your tired eyes. "Just making sure we don't have another emergency stop anytime soon."

Welt chuckled. "Caution suits you."

Neither of you noticed the figure in the doorway.

Dan Heng had meant to go straight to his room. But when Pom-Pom mentioned you were still working... something pulled him here instead.

He leaned against the frame, watching you. The way your brows furrowed in concentration. The stubborn set of your jaw as you fought off exhaustion.

You turned suddenly, spotting him. "Dan Heng? Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I was going to," he admitted. "But I didn't like the thought of you working alone."

Welt cleared his throat. "I'll... check the control panel." He slipped out with a knowing smile.

You shook your head, turning back to the open panel. "If you're here to scold me for overworking—"

"No." Dan Heng stepped closer, kneeling beside you. "I just... wanted to be here."

A comfortable silence settled between you as you worked.

After a while, you set down your tools. "Alright. I'm done."

Dan Heng nodded.

The repairs were done. You had collapsed into bed exhausted but satisfied, sinking into the kind of deep, dreamless sleep that only comes after hard-won victories.

Until you stretched and winced.

Your fingers brushed your neck.

"...Oh, you did not."

You bolted upright, scrambling to the bathroom mirror. And there it was, another faint bruise, just slightly offset from the first.

"Dan Heng," you hissed, already storming out of your room. "You promised-"

Himeko sat in the parlor car, sipping her morning tea with the grace of someone who had already predicted this exact scenario.

"Good morning," she said, smiling into her cup. "You look... well-rested."

You pointed accusingly at your neck. "He did it again."

Himeko's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Oh dear. And here I thought vampires were supposed to be subtle about their affections."

"I'm going to strangle him."

"Mm. I'm sure that'll go well." She took another sip, hiding her grin.

You groaned into your hands.

The Archives were quiet, the soft glow of data screens casting pale light across your face as you scrolled through profiles. Penacony's most famous siblings—Robin, the songstress whose voice could mend broken hearts, and Sunday, her enigmatic brother who seemed to exist mostly in footnotes and rumors.

A shadow fell across your screen.

"You've been researching them quite a bit."

You turned, raising an eyebrow. "Jealous? I was just prepping for Penacony—"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, forcing you to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.

"I bit you twice." he said softly. "Once when I was dying, once when you were asleep. And both times, you scolded me."

You crossed your arms. "Thrice."

Dan Heng's gaze flicked to the screen, to Sunday's polished smile. "And yet one mysterious man with a charming reputation appears, and suddenly you're fascinated."

You couldn't help it, you laughed.

Then he turned and walked away, his cloak swirling dramatically behind him.

The Astral Express hummed softly as it cut through hyperspace, the stars outside streaking into glowing ribbons of light.

Pom-Pom trotted over, ears perked. "Incoming transmission! A nearby shuttle requests boarding. Civilian clearance approved."

Himeko glanced up. "Let's greet our guest, shall we?"

The man who stepped aboard carried himself with effortless grace. He smiled warmly.

"Good evening. I'm Albert. It seems we're bound for the same destination."

Your breath caught.

It wasn't just his poise. There was something familiar in the curve of his smile, the intelligent glint in his gaze. You'd seen those features before—in countless research papers and holographic lectures.

"You..." The words tumbled out before you could stop them. "You look like Aiden. From the Genius Society."

Albert chuckled, clearly accustomed to the comparison. "So I've been told. Though I'm afraid I can't claim his brilliance."

"But his work—" You caught yourself, cheeks warming. "Sorry. I've just... studied all his theories."

Albert's expression softened with genuine interest. "Have you applied his principles to warp core stabilization?"

The conversation flowed easily after that. He listened with patient amusement as you talked shop, asking thoughtful questions in that calm, mentor-like tone. It was rare to find someone who understood your passion so effortlessly.

Someone else, however, wasn't sharing your enthusiasm.

Dan Heng stood apart. His usual composed demeanor had sharpened into something watchful—every smile you gave Albert, every eager gesture, tracked with unsettling focus.

He said nothing during dinner. Didn't react when Welt teased about your "new academic crush." But when you volunteered to bring tea to the lounge later, he followed.

You were pouring hot water when you felt him—warmth at your back, arms caging you against the counter.

"Dan Heng—?"

"You act like you've known him forever."

"I told you. He reminds me of—"

You pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid beat beneath.

"Stop." you said firmly.

"I.. Sorry."

Then he was gone before you could reply, leaving you standing there with a cooling teapot.

Dan Heng had perfected the art of subtle sulking.

No dramatic sighs. Just an ever-present shadow lingering just a little too close whenever Albert was near, his expression carefully blank while his fingers tapped restless rhythms against his spear.

You tried to be patient.

But when he claimed he was "just ensuring passenger safety" for the third time that day, you lost it.

"Oh, please," you snapped, "You've been hovering like a kicked puppy since he boarded."

"I'm not—"

"You are." You poked his chest. "And it's ridiculous. Albert's just a passenger."

"He looks at you like you're a puzzle he wants to solve."

You groaned. "And you literally bite me. I think we're past the point of—"

A shriek cut you off.

Pom-Pom came barreling into the room, fur standing on end. "There's a thing in the cargo hold! It's eating the wiring!"

The creature was hideous, a six-legged horror with a carapace that gleamed like oil, mandibles dripping luminescent fluid. The moment it spotted you, it sprayed a mist that burned your nose with its cloying, spicy stench.

Dan Heng moved first.

Or tried to.

The second the mist hit him, he staggered. His pupils blew wide, and then he was on you, pinning you to the ground with terrifying strength.

His bite was desperate, his teeth sinking into your wrist with a force that left you gasping. When he pulled back, his lips were stained red.

Then he collapsed.

You almost failed killing the bug, Welt did the rest of the job.

The symbol on your wrist pulsed faintly as you dragged Dan Heng to his room, Pom-Pom fluttering anxiously beside you.

"A binding mark?!" the conductor squeaked, pressing a cold cloth to Dan Heng's forehead. "Those are illegal!"

You stared at the intricate pattern now etched into your skin. "How do I get rid of it?"

Pom-Pom hesitated. "You... don't. Not unless he breaks it."

When Dan Heng woke, his horror was palpable. "…What happened?"

"You… don’t remember biting me?"

He blinked, and then went still. His gaze dropped to your hand, to the pattern. His expression turned grim.

"Fix it." you said quietly.

He nodded. "I'll try."

---

You shouldn't have gone to his room.

But the mark ached. The scent of him filled your lungs the moment you stepped inside.

Dan Heng was waiting.

He looked up from where he knelt on the floor, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "You came."

He didn't seem like his usual self. So did you.

He reached out, slow, giving you every chance to pull away. When you didn't, his fingers brushed your cheek.

"I don't want to..." he whispered. "But I can't stand the thought of losing you either."

The mark flared.

"I know I promised to help you get rid of it."

Your knees buckled.

He caught you, his arms wrapping around you. His lips pressed to your forehead.

"Maybe I'll keep this mark a little longer." he murmured.

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #dan heng x y/n #dan heng x reader #dan heng #hsr dan heng

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bueckers555 · 4 months ago

Text

MOTH TO A FLAME — paige bueckers x reader

summary: in which, you’re in a relationship with caitlin clark and it’s great… except for the fact that she can’t fuck for shit. not the way paige bueckers can…

warnings: cheating (for the plot), smut, FILTH, oral, fingering, yk the usual

authors note. something i whipped up after march madness p came back today anyways i dont condone cheating dont startttt this for the plot also this is heavily inspired by moth to a flame by the weeknd

The gym lights buzzed overhead, the air thick with sweat and the sharp squeak of sneakers on hardwood.

Iowa’s practice had just wrapped, and you were leaning against the bleachers, scrolling your phone, waiting for Caitlin to finish her post-session rundown with the coach. She was all business out there—focused, intense, her dark ponytail swinging as she nodded at whatever Coach Bluder was saying.

You loved that about her, the way she owned the court, the way she’d built this empire around her name. But off the court? That’s where it got messy.

Caitlin was your girlfriend—had been for almost a year now. You’d met at some Big Ten event, hit it off over shared laughs and her goofy charm, and it’d been good—solid, even. She was sweet, attentive, the kind of girlfriend who’d text you goodnight from the road and bring you coffee after shootaround.

But in bed?

Fuck, it was like she didn’t know where to start.

She’d try—God, she’d try—but it was all quick fumbles, awkward kisses, and half-hearted moves that left you staring at the ceiling, unsatisfied, aching for something she couldn’t give.

You’d fake moans, plaster on a smile, let her think she’d rocked your world, but every time, you’d end up on your back, staring at the ceiling of her dorm, pussy still throbbing, wet and unsatisfied, craving something she didn’t have in her. It wasn’t her fault—she just didn’t get it, didn’t know how to dig into you, pull you apart, make you scream. You’d fake it sometimes, just to keep her smiling, but the itch never went away.

And then there was Paige. Paige fucking Bueckers—UConn’s golden girl, all swagger and sharp edges, with those blue eyes that cut through you like glass.

You’d known her longer, from AAU days, back when you’d trade barbs on the court and sneak glances off it. She’d always had this pull, this heat that stuck with you, even after you picked Caitlin, even after you tried to bury it.

But Paige knew how to get you—knew every spot, every rhythm, every filthy word that’d leave you shaking. She’d fucked you into oblivion back in the day, before Caitlin, and that memory lingered like a ghost, haunting every night Caitlin couldn’t finish the job.

Your phone buzzed—Paige’s name flashing across the screen, no warning, just a text: “Heard you’re in CT this weekend. Hotel room’s open. 312.”

Your stomach flipped, heat creeping up your neck as you glanced at Caitlin, still deep in her convo, oblivious.

Iowa was playing UConn in some exhibition game Saturday—neutral site, Hartford—and you’d tagged along, figuring it’d be fine, just basketball, just Caitlin.

But Paige seemed to be the flame you couldn’t stay away from, and that text was the match.

You typed back quick, fingers trembling: “Can’t. With her.”

Sent it, locked your phone, tried to breathe. It buzzed again, instant, like she’d been waiting. “She don’t fuck you like I do. Don’t lie—312. I’ll be there.” Your throat went dry, your legs clenching together.

Fuck.

Your throat went dry, your legs shifting as that old ache flared up, the one Caitlin could never touch. You didn’t reply—couldn’t—but Paige knew. She always did.

—

Saturday rolled in fast, the arena a madhouse—yellow and black clashing with blue and white, the crowd electric.

Caitlin was locked in, her game face on, draining threes and barking plays like the star she was. You sat courtside, cheering, playing the good girlfriend, but your eyes kept sliding to Paige—her lean frame cutting through defenders, her grin cocky as hell when she’d hit a shot and jog by, winking at you like she owned you still.

Caitlin didn’t notice, too caught up, but every look Paige threw your way tightened that coil in your gut.

Post-game, Iowa took the W—close, gritty, Caitlin with 28 and the game-winner. She was hyped, all smiles as she hugged you on the sideline, sweat dripping, her arm slung around your shoulders. “You good, babe?” she asked, her voice loud over the noise, her hand squeezing your waist.

You nodded, smiled back, but your mind was already slipping—Paige’s text burning a hole in your pocket, her room number looping in your head like that.

You made the excuse later—told Caitlin you were grabbing something from the team bus, needed a sec to clear your head after the crowd.

She bought it, too busy soaking in the win with her teammates, kissing your cheek quick before you slipped out.

The hotel was a five-minute walk, your pulse hammering the whole way, guilt gnawing at you but not enough to stop. Paige was the pull—the flame—and you were the dumbass moth, wings already singed.

Room 312.

You knocked once, sharp, and the door swung open fast—Paige standing there, still in her UConn warmup shorts and a cut-off tee, her hair damp from a shower, her smirk lazy but her eyes hungry.

“Knew you’d show,” she said, her voice low, rough, stepping aside to let you in. The door clicked shut, and the room smelled like her—clean sweat, citrus, that stupid coconut lotion she always used.

“Shut up,” you muttered, flustered, dropping your bag by the bed, your hands already fidgeting. “This doesn’t mean shit, Paige—I’m still with her.”

She laughed, short and dark, stepping closer ‘til her chest brushed yours, her height forcing you to tilt your head up. “Yeah? That why you’re here? ‘Cause Caitlin Clark’s so fucking perfect?” Her hand found your hip, gripping hard, pulling you in ‘til you felt her heat through your clothes. “She don’t fuck you right—never has. I can see it all over you, starvin’ for it.”

You shoved her back, half-hearted, your breath catching. “Fuck you,” you said, but it came out weak, your body already leaning back into her, that pull too strong. “You don’t know shit.”

“Don’t I?” Paige’s grin turned sharp, her hands yanking your jacket off fast, tossing it to the floor, her fingers sliding under your shirt, nails scraping your stomach. “I know how you sound when you’re actually feelin’ it—how you shake, how you beg. Caitlin ever hear that shit? Nah, she don’t.”

She was right, and it pissed you off.

Caitlin tried, she did, but it was all vanilla, all clumsy hands and quick finishes that left you hollow.

Paige?

She was nasty—knew how to break you down, make it sick, make it good. You grabbed her shirt, pulling her in, your lips crashing into hers—angry, messy, all teeth and tongue, her groan vibrating against you as she shoved you back toward the bed.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” she muttered, her voice thick, her hands rough as she pushed your shirt up, yanking it over your head, her mouth already on your neck, biting hard enough to sting, her tongue flicking over the mark. “You’re still mine—don’t care who you’re with.”

You moaned, loud and raw, your hands clawing at her shorts, shoving them down with her boxers, her skin hot against yours as she kicked them off. She was on you fast, flipping you onto your stomach, her weight pinning you to the mattress, her breath hot against your ear. “She don’t get you wet like this, huh?” she whispered, her hand sliding between your legs, tugging your jeans down rough, her fingers finding you soaked, rubbing slow, teasing circles that made your hips buck.

“Paige—fuck—” you gasped, your voice breaking, your hands gripping the sheets as she pushed your thighs apart, her fingers plunging in deep—two, then three—stretching you, curling hard, her pace ruthless. “Look at this fuckin’ pussy,” she muttered, her voice thick, her fingers sliding through your folds, slow, teasing, your arousal coating her hand, sticky and hot. “Soaked for me—Caitlin ever get you this wet? Ever make this pussy drip like this?”

“No—fuck—no,” you whined, your voice muffled, your hips rocking back, desperate, your pussy clenching around nothing, begging for her. She laughed—low, nasty—her fingers plunging in—three, thick and deep—stretching you wide, your walls spasming, slick gushing out as she pumped hard, the wet slap of her hand against your pussy loud, obscene.

“Fuck—listen to that,” she groaned, her voice ragged, her other hand smacking your ass hard, the sting sharp, your skin blooming red. “This pussy’s mine—always been mine.” Her fingers curled, slamming that spot, your back arching, your moans spilling out—raw, filthy—as she fucked you relentless, her thumb grinding your clit, rough and sloppy, your juices dripping down her wrist, pooling on the sheets. “Caitlin don’t do this—don’t fuck you ‘til you’re cryin’. But I do—I always will.”

You whimpered, your face pressed into the pillow, muffling your whimpers and cries, her thumb grinding your clit, the wet slap of her hand against you echoing in the dim room. Your legs shook, your vision blurring, that sick heat building fast—Paige knew your body like a map, knew how to ruin you, and she wasn’t holding back.

“Fuck—gonna come—” you choked out, your voice wrecked, your hips grinding back into her hand, desperate, chasing it.

“Not yet,” she snapped, pulling her fingers out fast, leaving you empty, aching, your whine pitiful as she flipped you onto your back, her eyes blazing—wild, possessive. “Wanna see you when you do.” She shoved your legs up, hooking them over her shoulders, her mouth crashing between your thighs—hot, wet, her tongue flicking fast, then slow, dragging over your clit like she was savoring you.

“Paige—shit—please—” you begged, your hands in her hair, yanking hard, your back arching off the bed, the sheets sticking to your skin, damp with sweat. She sucked hard, her fingers sliding back in—three, deep—curling fast, her groan vibrating against you as she licked you clean, her eyes flicking up, watching you fall apart.

You came—hard—a scream tearing out, your thighs clamping around her head, your body shaking, slick gushing against her chin as she worked you through it, her tongue relentless, her fingers pumping ‘til you were a trembling mess, sobbing her name. She didn’t stop ‘til you pushed her off, gasping, your legs twitching, the room spinning.

She pulled back, wiping her mouth with her wrist, her grin cocky, smug, climbing up to straddle your hips, her hands pinning your wrists above your head. “Still think she’s enough?” she muttered, her voice hoarse, her arousal dripping onto your stomach as she rocked against you, chasing her own high.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, breathless, your hands breaking free to grab her hips, pulling her down harder, your nails digging into her skin as she ground against you—slow, then fast, her breath hitching, her abs flexing under your grip.

“Fuck—yeah,” she groaned, her head tipping back, her hands gripping your thighs as she rode you, her clit slick against your stomach, her pace frantic now, her moans low and real. “Shit—gonna—fuck—” She came quick, a shuddering gasp, her body tensing, her release hot and wet against you, her hands slamming into the mattress to brace herself as she shook.

You lay there—panting, tangled, the room heavy with sex, guilt creeping in slow but drowned out by the buzz of her. Paige flopped beside you, her arm slung over your chest, her breath ragged, her grin lazy but real. “You’re fucked up for this,” she said, her voice rough, teasing, her fingers brushing your jaw. “But you’re mine—always gonna be.”

You didn’t answer—couldn’t—your phone buzzing somewhere on the floor, Caitlin’s name probably lighting it up, but you didn’t move. Paige’s heat lingered, her scent all over you her, breath hot against your cheek.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #wlw smut #uconn wbb #uconn #wlw post #smut #paige buckets #caitlin clark

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brokenmenswhore · 1 year ago

Note

i need more of that dont look seriesss i need sirius and reader to go against remus’ rules or summmm please and thank you if u choose to do so

whatever the people want, i shall give them 🙇‍♀️

don’t look | remus & sirius

part 2

pairings: remus lupin x fem!reader, sirius black x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), language

part 1

────── ☾ ──────

Sirius opened his mouth to say something as Remus approached, but Remus put a hand up to cut him off.

“Nope, don’t even, I’m still mad at you,” Remus stated, walking past Sirius.

“Oh come on!” Sirius called to him, “look, I said I was sorry.”

“I know, but I’m still mad,” he called back, “and jealous, I guess.”

Sirius shrugged, “well maybe you should stop eating out your hot girlfriend in a communal space, Moons, what did you expect?”

Remus stopped in his tracks. He turned around and approached Sirius, stopping only a few feet away from him.

“You know you aren’t supposed to look at her like that.”

“Jeez, Moony, you aren’t my dad.”

Sirius’s nonchalance bothered Remus. Remus was hot-headed, and it was nearly the full moon, which meant his emotions were heightened even more than usual.

It also meant he was hornier than usual.

He marched to your dorm, swinging the door open, despite the two other girls sat on the floor, textbooks sprawled across their laps as you all studied together. “I need you.”

Your eyes shot up at him, the other girls scanning his figure up and down. “Rem, I’m studying,” you told him, as if he couldn’t see you doing just that.

“Please, I just need to borrow you for a minute.” Remus tried not to sound desperate, but he most certainly did. He didn’t care if the girls knew he wanted to borrow you to fuck you senseless, he only cared that he remained level-headed until he was alone with you.

You gave a smile to the other girls, closing your textbook and placing it on the floor before standing up and following Remus to his dormitory. He anticipated that it would be empty, but instead he found Sirius, cross-legged on his bed, a book in his lap.

Remus contemplated his options. Ever since Sirius’s infraction, he had avoided being with you in front of him, worried Sirius would try something again. However, today, he was angry, and he wanted to piss off Sirius by asserting his authority and dominance over you.

He pushed you onto the mattress, immediately hiking up your skirt and pulling down your underwear.

“Remus!” you squealed, taken aback by his haste.

He shushed you, saying, “need you bad.”

“Remmy, it’s not even a full moon tonight, you can usually wait until later in the da-“

Remus cut you off by shoving two fingers into your hole, not caring about warming you up as you squirmed from his touch.

“Shit,” you whined as his mouth connected with your clit, his tongue lapping up any wetness.

You moaned, your hands gripping his hair as he continued to shove his fingers in and out of you, his unoccupied hand pushing (with difficulty) his trousers down until he was left in his underwear, his hand sneaking past the waistband to lightly stroke himself at the sight of you.

Sirius was already in a fight with Remus over watching you, and part of him didn’t want to make anything worse. Part of him also thought that since they were already in a fight, what did it matter? He would just have to be more careful.

You whimpered when Remus hit a particularly good spot, and Sirius looked toward you through hooded lids, ready to retreat his gaze if Remus checked in on him, but Remus was focused only on you.

He had almost forgotten Sirius was in the room, his desperation and need growing more intense with each moan and whine you let out.

He pulled away from you, pulling his boxers all the way down before crawling on top of you.

“I need to feel you, pretty girl, are you ready for me?” he cooed, stroking his cock faster and faster as he waited for you to respond.

“Please, Remmy,” you begged, and he nearly came in his hand at the sound.

He lined himself up at your entrance, slowly pushing in despite his need. He would never give up watching your face as he pushed into you, even if he was desperate. The way your face contorted, the small whimpers that left your lips, the way your hair looked sprawled out on the pillows, the way your skirt bunched up around your waist-

He bottomed out inside of you, immediately starting to thrust in and out of you.

“Shit, Rem,” you moaned at the feeling, “you can use me.” You knew what he needed when the full moon was near, but your statement still drove him crazy as if he had never heard it before.

Remus placed both of your wrists above your head, holding them with one hand as his head dipped in the crook of your neck, his unoccupied hand finding your clit and rubbing fast circles as he fucked you. He didn’t care about timing, he just needed you bad. He needed to come inside of you, but he needed you to come first, even if it all happened quickly. He adored the feeling of you coming on his cock, and needed to feel it to achieve his own high.

You turned your head so that Remus had more room to rest his on your shoulder, and you glanced at Sirius, who shifted his seated position as he heard you moan. You remembered the last time he was in the room, and you hoped he would look over at you again, your eyes focused on him as Remus pounded into you at a ruthless pace.

He finally did glance at you, but he did a double take, checking if you were really looking at him, and you were. You nodded your head up and down, a way to tell him it was okay with you if he watched, and that you wanted him to do as such.

His eyes remained on you, scanning your body up and down, watching your thighs fall more and more open as Remus’s hand moved faster and faster on your clit.

He loved seeing you with your hands above your head, a new sight for him, Remus having full control over your body.

Your back arched off the bed, causing the pressure on your wrists to increase as your climax threatened to hit, Remus’s hand and his cock almost too much to hold it together.

“Sir- shit, I’m gonna-“

You squeezed Remus’s cock like a vice, your high washing over you as your thighs shook.

“Shit, baby,” Remus breathed.

He didn’t catch your almost-slip, but Sirius certainly did, his eyes darkening as he watched you come down from your high, your body still shifting back and forth on the bed from the force of his best friend’s hips snapping against yours.

“Gonna come in you,” Remus moaned, a final few, sharp thrusts sending him over the edge as he came, groans in your ear that only you could hear as he spilled his seed inside of you.

You signaled for Sirius to look away as Remus let go of your wrists, pulling out of you before standing up and gazing at your fucked-out frame.

“Thank you, baby,” he placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “let me get you cleaned up.”

He stretched a hand out to you, and you took it, allowing him to guide you to the bathroom.

✶

Sirius did not speak to you for an entire week after that.

You tried to spark conversation, but he always found an excuse to leave the room or divert his attention. Remus noticed, but assumed it was because of the first time he watched you, and he quite enjoyed the thought of Sirius leaving you alone.

You were seated in the common room, everyone apart from you and the boys at a party in the Ravenclaw dorms. The boys had decided to skip this particular party thanks to Remus, who was falling behind in Transfiguration, and who cursed the Ravenclaws for throwing a party the night before a massive Transfiguration exam.

“I can’t fucking focus,” Remus spoke, annoyed at his inability to comprehend the subject.

“I have some extra notes in the dorms,” James spoke, “I can try to find them, maybe they’ll help?”

“Yeah, alright,” Remus agreed, “worth a shot.”

Remus sighed, placing a kiss on your forehead as he and James retreated up the stairs to search for James’s extra notes.

You turned to Sirius, who avoided meeting your gaze.

“Please talk to me, Sirius.”

He ignored you completely.

“Siri, please.”

The pet name broke him out of his mindset. “Don’t call me Siri.”

“Why not, Siri?” you teased.

“Because it does things to me. Stop.”

“Why?”

“Seriously, Y/N-“

“Seriously what? Why won’t you talk to me?”

Sirius lowered his voice, whisper-yelling, “what do you mean why won’t I talk to you? I’m finally in a decent spot with Remus, what am I gonna do if he finds out I eye-fucked his girlfriend again while he was in the middle of railing her?”

“What does that have to do with you speaking to me?” you questioned.

“Because every single time I look at you, I see- I see you like that.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at Sirius’s confession. “Really?”

“Shut up.”

“You like what you saw?” you teased.

“Shut up.”

“You wanna see more?”

“Stop,” Sirius warned.

You listened intently up the staircase, and heard James yell, “I fucking swear they were here! Check in that one.”

You propped your legs up on the coffee table, allowing your legs to fall open and give Sirius an unobstructed line of sight to your core.

“Do you wanna see more?” you asked again, running a finger over your underwear, just above your folds.

“Don’t fucking tease me.”

You nodded your head no, you were indeed not teasing him. You really were going to touch yourself.

You moved your underwear aside, giving Sirius full view of your most sensitive area as you put one of your middle fingers into your mouth.

You made a show of sucking on the digit, wetting the skin before slowly inserting it into your now-wet hole. You let out a light whine, so as not to alert Remus of what you were up to.

Sirius tried to restrain himself, but he quite literally could not take his eyes away from you. He was obsessed; a man starved who finally found sustenance. He couldn’t look away if he tried.

You began to move your finger faster and faster, your other hand coming up to squeeze your breast over your shirt.

“Shit, Siri,” you moaned, and Sirius nearly lost it right there.

He stood up and approached you, gripping the wrist that was moving your finger inside of your hole.

You assumed he would stop you, but instead, he pulled your finger out, pressing two of his fingers to your lips and allowing you to suck on them.

When he was satisfied with how wet they were, he replaced your finger with his own, his pointer and middle entering you slowly as you threw your head back.

Sirius turned his head to the staircase, hearing “well why wouldn’t they be with literally every other set of notes?” and “fucking hell, can you check the trunk over there?”

Sirius met your eyes, watching you squirm as he fingered you, his thumb finding its way to your clit and rubbing circles, a small smile finding its way onto his lips as he watched your reaction to his touch.

As he pumped his fingers faster and faster, he began to curl them against your spongy walls, a euphoric feeling.

“Siri, fuck,” you whined.

Sirius’s unoccupied hand went to your mouth, covering it to keep you from being loud enough for Remus or James to hear.

“You’re so fucking pretty, did you know that?” Sirius spoke, hand still ruthless on your core, “staring at me with someone else’s cock in you, thinking it won’t affect me?”

You whined under Sirius’s hand, your hips beginning to grind on his hand as he continued speaking.

“Silly little girl, don’t you know Remus said we shouldn’t look at you? You keep breaking his rules, and that’s only something bad girls do. You’re not a bad girl, are you?”

Sirius only moved his hand from your mouth to hear you respond. “Maybe I am, Siri,” you moaned.

Sirius placed his hand back over your mouth, his fingers fucking you faster and faster after you spoke. “You wanna be a bad girl? I’ll treat you like a bad girl. Isn’t that what you want, huh? Staring at me when you have Remus inside of you?”

Your high was dangerously close, Sirius’s fingers better than you could have ever imagined, when Sirius heard “fuck this! I’m just gonna go back downstairs.”

Sirius immediately pulled away, placing your legs back in a normal seated position as he sat back down across from you, scanning the pages of his textbook as if nothing had just happened.

“Sorry that took so long, dumbass couldn’t even find the extra notes,” Remus said, plopping down next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, “did I miss anything good?”

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