#(and maybe bit of more than I could chew..again.)

[zstartrixxx]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑭𝑬𝑬𝑫𝑺.

ˢᵘᵇ⁽ᵈᵒᵐ⁾ꜝʳᵉᵐᵐᶦᶜᵏ ˣ ᵈᵒᵐꜝʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ⁽ᶦᵈᵏ ᶦᵐ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶦⁿˢᵃⁿᵉ ᵃᵗᵖ⁾

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒎𝒈𝒔: +18 ADULT CONTENT. EROGURO: erotique AND grotesque with: blood kink (and not, it's not period sex to your displeasure just kidding), very spit&bite kink, remmick kinda sofdom but a tremendous pathetic submissive masochist and the very dominant reader who enjoys some strange stuff (remember the eroguro thing!!!) lmk if i forget smt. | 𝒘𝒄: 1708 words. for whoever is going to read it, a great read! <3 likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

just how deep do you believe? will you bite the hand that feeds? will you chew until it bleeds? can you get up off your knees? are you brave enough to see? do you want to change it?; THE HAND THAT FEEDS, nine inch nails.

"Come on, hit me."

You stared at him, your gaze burning as you took in the sight of that poor wretch on his knees, arms spread wide, a grin splitting his face to reveal rows of sharp teeth, thick drool dripping from the corners of his chin, his eyes alight with desire and an inherent submission to you. Your smile was one of triumph—it had been so easy to turn him into your bitch. Like this, begging for your rough touch: slaps and spits, squeezes around his cock slick with pre-cum, violent bites against his pale skin hard enough to pierce flesh, to make him bleed for you.

Remmick waited for you to hit him, his eyes half-lidded, languid and pleading with the false innocence of a lamb among wolves, trying to keep his purity intact. Pathetic. Because he was more corrupted than you, and that drove you wild. But you stood still, silent before him, arms crossed as if denying him the strike out of sheer cruelty—and maybe that was exactly it. You wanted to provoke him, to see how far he’d go. The man suddenly snapped his sharp eyes open, furrowed his brow, and repeated his request, this time in a velvetier voice, trying to sound emphatic:

"I asked you: please, hit me!"

"Remmick… My Remmick…" Your voice was just as soft as his as you stepped closer. He closed his eyes when he felt the tips of your nails trace his strong features. He loved the possessive pronoun—my Remmick—it touched parts of him no one had ever reached before. Except you. Then, abruptly, the hand that had been caressing him shot up to grip his bangs, yanking his head back in surrender—no, yielding. Remmick loved it even more when you were rough, pulling his hair, exposing his neck in such a dangerous way… He laughed, ragged, twisted pleasure flashing through his half-lidded gaze, lips parted, fangs bared, thick saliva dripping from his chin, betraying just how insanely thirsty he was for this.

You teased him:

"My Remmick can’t handle being mistreated for too long, can he?" Your fingers tightened in his hair, bending him just a little further to face you. Remmick didn’t hide (he never would) his delight at what was happening. He shook his head slowly, savoring the pressure and the slight sting of abused flesh—even as a vampire, his body still felt human sensations, maybe even more sensitive—and it drove him mad. Surrendered, begging for more. For you.

"Quite the opposite, my lady—" He laughed, mischievous. "—I go completely fucking insane when you hurt me. You’re doing me a favor."

You smiled, victorious.

The pleas of this vampire-man who drank your blood like liquor and in return fed your soul with his submission—this was your private, secret paradise, one no one could ever know about. His human soul somehow begged for human contact, and you were his idyllic dream of feeling like a man again. Meanwhile, his monstrous side—the transformed body he inhabited, which fed on blood and sometimes on human cruelty and stories—also craved the torment of being whipped, devoured, chewed up. And you offered both your liquor and your cruelty: the sensitive neck or wrist that bled for him, the teeth and nails that bit and scratched his flesh, the hands that squeezed and struck. And he wanted more, more and more.

Your heart raced with ecstasy at his words:

"If you say so—" Without another word, your other hand delivered a slap that burned against your palm and whipped his face to the side. He let out a "Wow!" before turning back.

"Again. Harder."

"Shut your mouth." Your voice was commanding. The hand gripping his hair slid down to press your fingers against his lips—a dangerous game, because at any moment, the vampire could bite you—making him pant against them. Your other hand struck him again, harder this time, the crack echoing in your ears. Remmick moaned, closing his eyes as you pushed your fingers deeper into his wet mouth, saliva now dripping from both sides, his rough groans mingling with the heat in his half-lidded gaze.

"Good boy, good boy… You know damn well that here, I give the orders, and you just obey, hmm?" Remmick nodded lethargically. When you slid your fingers out, his little whimper of desperation caught you off guard, making you laugh as you drank in his need. The hand now wet with his saliva returned to caress his face, his almost tender look nearly melting you. But immediately, you changed your mind, striking his cheek with that same hand. The hand that caresses is the same one that strikes.

Remmick let out a rough, drawn-out grunt, almost a prayer of gratitude on his lips.

"Oooh, yes! Yes! Keep going, please… I’m begging you." His voice was whiny now, his pleading eyes bursting with tears of blood, his need and fragile surrender guiding you in this intimate moment. Your grin split your face with pride, ecstasy and lust driving you to slap him again. And again, and again, until the real blood dripped from his nose, his eyes, his mouth. Remmick laughed, spitting his blood onto the floor. Driven mad by this strange frenzy, you grabbed him hard:

"Open your mouth for me, Remmick."

His eyes blazed, and in seconds, his mouth was open—saliva and blood welcoming your spit with a pleasure that came from the depths of his being, a ragged moan escaping him. Your saliva now mixed with his. Your lips crashed into his in an animalistic kiss, the iron taste of his blood on your tongue as you gripped his hair, his neck, now kneeling to be face-to-face, tooth-to-tooth, knee-to-knee with him. But always sovereign over his body, steering him in this dance, squeezing his narrow shoulders, gripping his throat like your hands were claws, pulling away from the kiss with a wet slop, a red string of saliva still connecting you before you moved to his neck.

Even without his fangs, your teeth were sharp enough to mar his skin, to tear into it with enough pressure, to make the vampire’s flesh bead with blood that you licked away—slow, wet—listening to his ragged, desperate little moans against your lips as they parted over his jugular. Just like he did to you. But always controlled, never draining or poisoning you. Thankfully, you didn’t need his self-restraint, so you bit him with hunger and want.

You were hungry for him, and luckily for you, Remmick had the exact flavor to satisfy your peculiar appetite.

Yielding, he let you rip open his button-up shirt, nearly tearing off those suspenders as you whispered wickedly:

"Damn suspenders… I don’t even know why you wear them if you use a belt… You’re such a silly thing, my Remmick!" His delighted chuckle met your ears as you bit his nipples, licked them, sucked them, then bit again. You bit Remmick all over, just as he did when you surrendered to him—when he devoured you with centuries of hunger. Now that it was your turn, you took full advantage, turning your attention to his face, completely twisted in pleasure.

You licked up from his chest, marked by your harsh bites—some where, beyond the teeth marks, droplets of blood fought like dew on delicate flower petals—before moving to abuse the other side of his neck, licking and biting, listening to him pant, plead:

"

"Harder, my love, I know you could tear a piece off me if you wanted…" You laughed against his neck, feeling his hands—his claws—brush against your bare shoulders, trailing down your back, making you shiver. And, a little hypocritically, you obeyed, increasing the pressure until his skin split, the bittersweet taste of blood and flesh filling your mouth. Swallowing, you swallowed him. Licking, mixing your saliva with his blood on his skin, painting him in this erotic, grotesque tableau. Your breath was heavy and hot against his cold skin. You reached his chin, licking away saliva before kissing him again.

Blood. Saliva. Iron. Honey. 

Softness. Salt. Bitterness. 

Caramel. Metal. Exploding in that kiss, growing inside you because, in the end, he had you in his arms. You cupped his chin with both hands, pulling his face away from yours—another string of saliva connecting you—breathless, while he groaned roughly:

"Fuck, man. Fuck, you make me want to devour you whole!"

"Then devour me."

His request was almost an order. His eyes burned you, his abused mouth filthy with blood and spit. You wanted to fuse with him right then. You smiled, sliding your hands down to his neck, squeezing, feeling the cold gold chain against your fingers.

Then he loomed over you, his hands cradling your face, fingertips tangled in your hair, the little chain swaying between you. Remmick smiled, and you closed your eyes:

"Spit on me." You ordered. Remmick froze, devouring you with wide, opaque-red pupils. Now it was your turn to frown at his sadistic amusement. Oh, he— Without thinking twice, you slapped him hard. Once. The sharp crack made his head snap to the side, but he slowly turned back with that teasing little smile—provoking you. So you struck the other side. Your hands gripped his throat:

"Now, spit on me, damn you! That’s an order!"

"Now we’re speaking the same language, my love…" he whispered. "Open your mouth wide for me."

Your body trembled at the gravity of his tone, your heart nearly stopping as you felt the shift in the air, the atmosphere of this little room—which to you felt like Hell itself—changing slowly. Remmick, even with those pleading eyes, revealed himself now as the one who takes your hand to strike himself, only to caress you with his own afterward. The truth flickered in the corners of his ruby eyes, in his bloody smile, in the way his body seemed to grow over yours. And you wanted it. So your mouth fell open, eyes still wide to take in the sight of sin in human form—saliva mixing with his own blood, a thick strand dripping from his lips into yours.

Now, the dance would be led by another.

Now, it was Remmick’s turn.

And you couldn’t be happier, feeling his hand caress your face, preparing you for what came next.

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: so, i'm on my period, totally out of my mind, already rewatched sinners like three times, and i'm not okay at all. then, i was just chilling when these images popped into my head, and i thought, ‘why not!?’ i’ve also been reading a lot of interesting stuff from other people here that helped feed THIS in my fertile mind—thanks to everyone involved <3. AND just in case: IT WASN’T ME WHO WROTE THIS. not the real me, rsrsrsrsrsrssrsrsrsrsr :)

[enha-hype]

&team - period care pt 2 ♡ (maknae line) hyung line

how each member deals with/reacts to different period symptoms

pairing: bf!&team x afab!reader

genre: fluff, comfort, poor attempt at humour lol, little bit of angst in taki’s

warnings: cursing, mentions of nausea, period pain, mentions about food and eating problems but not ED related

w.c.: around 500-700 for each member

a/n: finally back with the part 2 i promised!! taki's turned out to be a little longer than the rest...okay maybe a lot lol (1k). but i didn't want it to be half-assed either so yeah.

posting this on my period.... where is my loving caring boyfriend 😞

🪐 yuma (fatigue)

it's one of those days where you really really do not want to step out of the house (more like the couch in the living room), much less do anything that requires any physical activity. which is not good, because you and yuma have a picnic planned for today at this cute little spot which requires a bit of walking and cycling to get there. and you are absolutely in no mood for that.

(more under the cut!)

at first you think about just sucking it up and getting it over with. but you'll probably be moody and grumpy the whole time and yuma deserves better than that. you would also like it if you could go when you would actually be able to enjoy it.

no other way around it then. you let out a long dramatic sigh and grab your phone to dial your boyfriend. he picks up on the second ring.

“yuma…”

“yes sweetie?!” he sounds so excited you feel doubly worse for what you're about to do.

you chew on the inside of your cheek. “okay, please don't be mad, but…”

“what? did you watch another episode of resident playbook without me again?”

“no! i was just wondering if we could... maybe postpone our picnic date and just stay in instead today?” there's a beat of silence.

“i am SO mad that i'm gonna come over with your favourite snacks and punish you with kisses all over your face before we watch the next episode of resident playbook together,”

you heave a sigh of relief. you knew he wouldn't really be mad – you had been more worried about disappointing him but the fact that he was being so chill about it eased your mind. “ugh, i love you. i'm sorry baby, i know you were really excited about today,”

“it’s okay. i know you were looking forward to it too so if you wanna postpone it there must be a reason. is everything okay? you sound a little off,”

if he were here, you would've kissed him for that.

“i just feel dead tired and don't feel like doing anything today. plus i couldn't get much sleep last night because i kept waking up to pee,” you frown, “i have the bladder control of a pregnant woman when i'm on my period, which is ironic,”

he chuckles. “sorry to hear that, sweetie. do you want me to get you anything on the way? do you have enough tampons at home?”

“yeah i do, thank you. oh but could you get some ice cream?”

“of course. you sure you don't need anything else? juice? diapers?”

“diapers? i don't use period diapers.”

“i didn't mean period diapers. i meant adult diapers in case, you know, you piss yourself or something,” he teases, and you can picture his cute little snaggletooth sticking out (ik he doesn't have his snaggletooth anymore but let me have this plis i miss it 😭) as he grins mischievously.

“ha ha very funny. let's see how funny it is when you get here and i tickle you until you piss yourself,”

“yeah no okay no pissing. only kissing please. do you have the energy for that?” the teasing tone of his voice makes you blush just a little.

“oh there will be plenty of kissing, nakakita yuma, don't you worry about that,”

“well then i guess i'd better hurry,”

🪐 jo (cravings)

it is no secret that asakura jo is an absolute sweetheart, someone who is too nice for his own good. he finds it hard to say no in general, but even more so when it's you and you're giving him you're biggest, widest puppy eyes. he would've caved even without you doing all that, honestly. so needless to say, whenever you're craving anything – especially on the days leading up to and during your period – he makes sure you have it even if it's 11 pm, because he wants to do anything he can to help make it easier.

however, he soon learns his lesson when he sees the damage his overindulgence does to you. he realises the sort of foods you crave also unfortunately happen to be the sort of foods that made cramps and other period symptoms worse. obviously, this is not news to you. you just figure that if you were going to be miserable either way, you might as well eat what you like at least. but jo makes up his mind to change things, and it does not start well. for someone so soft-spoken, you find that jo could be surprisingly assertive when he wanted to. and you do not like it at all, especially since you are so used to just him giving in to whatever you want.

while he makes it seem easy, only he knows the effort that goes into staying resolute. he hates seeing you sulk and wants to do anything to make you smile again. but then he reminds himself that you'll be the one to suffer later, and that helps him hold his ground.

he does not completely cut you off from your guilty pleasures, of course. he just makes sure you have limited and carefully curated access to it, unlike before. it takes you a little getting used to, and you whine and complain about it even though you are aware of the fact that you are probably acting like a spoiled little kid throwing a tantrum and well, it isn't far from the truth - you were used to being spoiled by your sweetheart of a boyfriend. but even though jo hates to see you pout, he continues to remain firm. to make things easier for you, he even looks up recipes and makes you dishes using healthy ingredients and tries to make them as suited to your taste as possible.

he keeps track of your cycle and starts keeping an eye on your diet a couple of days before your period is due – which is exactly when the cravings start. today is one such day when you are displeased with this arrangement – it's the third day of your cycle and you're desperately craving some caffè mocha, but jo said you've already used up your share of cheat meal/drink for today. you sit there sulking like you usually do, half-heartedly working on your assignment.

then it hits you that not only have your cramps substantially reduced this cycle, you also don't feel as tired as you usually do. your other symptoms are better too. guilt kicks in along with the realisation – all that he has been doing really did help.

you abashedly make your way to his room where you find him sketching. you stand at the door watching him for a while, then walk over and wrap your arms around him from behind.

“jojo….” you start, your tone apologetic.

putting his pencil down, he turns around in his chair and pulls you into his lap. “not mad at me anymore?” he asks, a soft smile on his lips. the smile is not teasing or gloating, just pure and pretty, like him.

you bury your face in his neck and groan. you've been a brat and this is still how he reacts? you suppose you shouldn't be surprised.

“you need to stop being so nice…. you've spoiled me rotten,” you mutter.

he chuckles. “ahh, so it's my fault?”

“no, it's not. i'm sorry, jojo. you're so sweet and thoughtful and i have been behaving like a starving victorian child. i've been doing nothing but complain and whine,”

“it's okay sweetie, i know it's hard,” he says, stroking your hair. “if i had periods i'd probably be way more dramatic,”

“oh, no, i think you would still be a saint,” you say and tilt his chin up as you lean in for a kiss.

🪐 harua (nausea)

it has only been a few months since you started dating harua so he doesn't know everything about you yet. like why you go MIA for a few consecutive days every month where he is only able to contact you through texts. on those days, you usually tell him something came up at your part-time job or that you're staying over at your friend's place or that you have to meet your grandma.

today, however, you decide to be somewhat truthful for once. which you end up regretting when he shows up at your door half an hour later. it goes like this:

harua🐇: hi y/n!! d'you wanna go shopping with me later today?

you : i would've loved to but i'm not feeling too good right now so maybe some other day? sorry xoxo

harua🐇: oh, okay, it's np! ♡ hope you feel better soon :(

and then he shows up at your place and your heart drops. under normal circumstances, you would've been happy to see him but right now you're positive you look like shit.

harua doesn't care about that, however – at least not in the way you do. how could he not come when you told him you weren't feeling well? he even brought a sick kit, although unfortunately it doesn't have much to help the kind of ‘sick’ you are right now – he thinks you probably have a cold or are running a temperature.

“oh rua….you're so sweet. but you really didn't have to come,” you say, hastily smoothing out your hair and fixing your shirt.

“no, i'm glad i came. you don't look too good, are you okay standing?” he leads you to your couch and sits down beside you, scrutinizing you with concern.

“no it's really okay…i go through this every month…” you begin, and he tilts his head quizzically.

you sigh with defeat. “i might as well just tell you, i guess. i'm not actually sick, i'm just on my period…i get horribly nauseous during the first three days of my cycle and sometimes even end up puking. i didn't want to tell you because well, it's not exactly a fun fact, is it?”

realisation dawns on him. “ohhh, so that's why you disappear for a few days every month!”

you smile sheepishly, your cheeks flushing. “yeah. i didn't think you kept track,”

“please, i was starting to think you were a werewolf or something and needed to get away to phase,”

you start to laugh but stop midway when you feel a wave of queasiness coming on and immediately clamp your mouth shut with your hand.

“y/n? you okay?”

you put your head between your knees and hold one hand up. thankfully it passes soon, and you sit up when you feel a little better.

“i think you should leave now,” you tell him.

“why? do you not want me here?”

“yes. i mean, no, not that i don't want you here– well i don't– but it's not because…i just…what if i puke? i don't want–”

“i'll hold your hair up,” he shrugs nonchalantly, like it's the most obvious thing ever.

you stare at him incredulously. he returns your gaze with his own stubborn one.

“did you perchance forget that i'm your boyfriend?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

“no?”

“then treat me like one, will you? let me be here for you,”

and how could you say no to that?

he does, however, leave soon after, saying he needs to run somewhere real quick and that he'll be back before you know it. he returns with lemon soda, ginger ale and some mint leaves for peppermint tea.

“stuff that helps with nausea, apparently,” he explains when you look at him questioningly. “did a quick google search. oh, i also bought some scented candles although i don't know how effective those will be… i didn't know what you might like so i picked up a bunch of random ones. i know you like citrus fruits so i bought a few of those and these here are floral scents. later when you're feeling better we can go together and pick more out–”

you pull him into a tight hug, catching him off guard. “i love you,”

he smiles and squeezes you back in return. “in case it wasn't already clear, i love you too,”

🪐 taki (irritability)

you've had a rough day. your professor had shouted at you in front of the whole class for something that hadn't even been your fault. then he made you walk all around campus running errands for him. and like that wasn't enough, you tripped and fell in PE. you didn't sustain any major injuries - just a few scrapes here and there but it was nonetheless not fun and extremely humiliating. you heard a few classmates snickering. and to top it all off, you're on your period.

given the mentally and physically exhausting day you've had, you're so relieved to finally come home and be able to sulk in peace. but before long, your flatmate who is also your boyfriend, also gets home – the one day you're not excited he's home early. while you love him dearly, you would really like some alone time right now.

taki is known as the mood maker in every room he's in. he's lively and cheerful and talkative and fun to be around. he loves putting a smile on people's faces so when he comes home to his favourite person evidently in a shitty mood, what does he do? takes it upon himself to make sure you're smiling again, of course.

and so it begins. he starts talking about everything he did that day and everything he's going to do tomorrow and about the date he has planned for you this week and what he's going to make for dinner tonight. he doesn't ask you about your day because he doesn't wanna make you talk about something you clearly don't want to. and so he talks on your behalf as well. you usually love it when he yaps away like this, he talks so animatedly it's endearing to watch. a lot of the time when he goes on one of his ‘yappathons’ as you call it, you're the embodiment of the blah blah blah proper name place name backstory stuff meme.

but not right now, not today. right now you're just sitting there silently, your irritation steadily rising, willing him to stop. if only you had said that out loud instead of bottling up until it burst, what happens next could have been avoided.

the final straw comes when he starts telling you about how one of his friends fell and how it was so funny everyone was laughing including the guy who fell. little do you know that he's doing this solely in an attempt to get you to laugh or at least crack a smile – nobody fell, at least not today. the logical part of you knows taki does not know that you yourself had an embarrassing fall today and so he most definitely does not mean this to be a jab at you, leaving your ego bruised. the logical part of you also knows that the anger you're feeling towards him right now is misdirected and irrational. but you're already so done at that point that logic flies out the window and you just snap at him.

“oh my god taki can you shut the hell up and leave me alone for ten minutes?! will your head explode if you don't keep talking all the damn time?”

taki was evidently not expecting such a reaction. he stares at you for a few seconds, stunned into silence. then he mumbles a sorry and gets up and walks away without another word. you hear the front door click shut a minute later. great. as if this godforsaken day hadn't been bad enough you've also managed to hurt the one person who was actually trying to make it better. tears prick your eyes as regret and worry slowly eats you up.

it is only when he returns a little after an hour later that you breathe a sigh of relief. he doesn't so much as look in your direction, however, and heads straight to his room.

“taki, wait!” you call after him.

he stops, but doesn't turn around. you go over to him and take his hand, and he finally looks up at you. his expression is sharp and unreadable, but the hurt is evident in his eyes.

“i'm...really sorry, taki. you didn't deserve that. it was a shitty thing to say and i wasn't even mad at you, i just had a shitty day and am on my period and needed a bit of time to myself to calm down. one of my professors shouted at me for something i didn't even do and then he made me go all around campus asking me to do this and that and then i tripped over my own fucking feet and fell in PE and it was so embaassing–”

“you fell? are you okay?” he asks, eyes wide and hands immediately flying up to clutch your arms.

you wince. “yeah, it was nothing. just a few scrapes and uh, you're actually kind of pressing on one right now,” you say, holding up your elbow.

he lets go immediately. “shit, sorry. where else did you get hurt? did you clean it properly and apply antiseptic cream?”

“yes, i did, i'm fine really,” you assure him, taking his hand in yours again and stroking it, feeling simultaneously guilty and relieved at how quickly whatever anger and hurt he might've felt about what you said earlier dissolved when you told him what happened.

he looks down at his hand in yours, then back up at you and sighs, lacing his fingers with yours. “if you needed some time to yourself you could've just told me, you know,”

“i know, i'm sorry. it was stupid. i'll tell you next time, i promise. don't take what i said to heart okay?”

he smiles a little. “it's alright. i know i would've been worse if i were to get my period,”

“way worse,” you agree, and he hits you playfully.

“so, am i still your favourite yapper?” he asks.

you roll your eyes and pull him close to kiss his cheek. “always,”

his smile widens and your heart feels lighter. “alright then, come on,” he says, tugging your hand. “tell me what you feel like doing. i'll make up for the shitty day the universe dealt you,”

🪐 maki (stomach and back pain)

you and your boyfriend are having a movie night with your friends taki and harua at his place. taki has the bean bag while you, harua and maki are sitting on the couch in that order – they usually try to keep you and maki separated during movie nights because otherwise you either won't keep your hands off of each other or keep making jokes and speculations about what's going to happen next.

halfway through the film, harua and taki are deeply engrossed in the murder mystery but maki has noticed that you haven't been able to sit still for some time now – it's clear you're uncomfortable. but he knows it's not because of the movie because you've always had a stronger stomach for gore and morbid stuff than he has.

he discreetly reaches for his phone to text you.

maki : why have you been squirming and wiggling for the past ten minutes. are you testing out the ‘would you still love me if i was a worm’ hypothetical?

your phone pings, notifying a message. when you grab it to reply, harua rolls his eyes. maybe they should confiscate your phones as well the next time.

you : no tf 😭 im just tryna get comfortable cuz my back and stomach hurts :( d’you think i could go lay down just for a few minutes maybe?

maki : what omg

maki : is it cuz of your period? why didn't you tell me sooner? and ofc you can go lay down you don't even have to ask!! actually wait i'll come with you

before you can tell him it's fine he's already speaking up.

“hey guys, you can continue watching the movie. y/n isn't feeling well so we're gonna take a little break and come back later,”

taki and harua enquire after you with concern and you assure them you'll be fine if you just rest for a bit. they don't even ask maki why he's accompanying you to the bedroom because they know there's no way he'll be able to focus on a movie when there's even the slightest thing bothering you.

the relief you feel when your back hits the soft mattress is palpable. “ohhh that feels so good…”

“better? what about your stomach?” maki asks, caressing your cheek, his forehead creased with worry.

“still hurts a bit,” you frown, placing your hands on the area where it hurts. “should've brought my heating pad. but it's fine,”

“do you want me to go get you one, babe? i'll try to be back as soon as i can,” maki says as he gets up but you pull him down.

“nooo don't go anywhere. stay here,”

“but i want to help,”

“well then…” you take both his hands in yours and his eyes widen as you pull up your top, leaving your stomach exposed. then you place both of his hands on the lower part of your stomach. as expected, the warmth and the pressure eases the ache a little. “don’t press too much but just apply a bit of pressure here like you're doing now,” you instruct.

he leans over your abdomen and wags a threatening finger at it, “hey you, stop hurting my partner or else!” he looks up at you beaming. “is that enough pressure?”

it's dumb and not even that funny, but you can't help giggling. “you are so silly,”

“silly in loooove,” he sings and you roll your eyes. with his hands still on your stomach he leans down to kiss your belly button.

you giggle and then wince. “babe i'm not sure doing anything ticklish is a good idea right now,”

“right, sorry,”

the both of you end up talking about the movie and you fall asleep listening to him ramble about who he thinks the killer might be and why. he keeps his hands on your stomach until you wake up an hour later and assure him you're more than fine.

divider credits: @/saradika-graphics

[just-a-simpel-narrator]

@puffywuffy8904 DID I HEAR SOMEBODY SAY STEFAN??

To which I definitely did not take an entire week to respond nooooo

[kitkatsgalore]

Happy birthday, Yechan! 🥳

[gomtangii]

oh my my my!

caleb x fem!reader wc: 1.027k (the nctzen in me is screaming) cw: minors and ageless dni, caleb is insane, cunnilingus, pet names (princess, pipsqeuak), caleb has endless stamina again, fat cock caleb, cock-drunk reader, mating press, slight breeding kink, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, unrealistic sex lol, i did not mean to write this much actually, not edited!

TIME: 11:12 PM LOCATION: SKYHAVEN, CALEB'S APARTMENT: LIVING ROOM

...what did he say? all you did was confront caleb about why the two of you haven't had sex yet, but what did he just say?

"my... penis... is too big." he mutters shyly, a blush spread across his cheeks and ears paired with an expression you've never seen on his face before. you stare at him, mouth agape. you take a moment to to process what he said before stifling a laugh, making caleb frown even more.

"that's it?"

"i'm being serious! i don't want to hurt you."

you smile at him with a sigh, a bit relieved that was his answer. you place a kiss on his cheek that he grumpily accepts, pulling you close to him.

"sounds like you're just going to have to do a better job at prepping me then," you smirk, a hint of mirth in your voice. the look in his eye changes, arousal pooling in his irises.

"is that a challenge, pipsqueak?" he cocks an eyebrow, pulling you closer to him by the waist, "i'm just not sure if you can handle it."

"is that a challenge?" you glare at him, suddenly feeling yourself get competitive too. it's not like you were going to lose, right?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

TIME: 1:39 AM LOCATION: SKYHAVEN, CALEB'S APARTMENT: YOUR BEDROOM

you were, however, indeed losing.

you blink past the stars that caleb was making you see. it's been about 2 hours since he started eating you out, his licks and bites relentless. he gives one last harsh suck to your clit before pulling away, looking at the art he's created.

you're shaking, your pussy became puffy thanks to his ministrations, and there are countless bites and marks around your thighs.

"looks like you bit off more than you could chew, hm? princess?" he kisses your temple, caressing your hair and arms to calm you down from your nth orgasm.

"can... still take more..." you mumble, gripping onto his shirt, frustrated that he's still clothed while you were stripped naked. you feels his hands drag against your arms, your abdomen, before reaching just above your mound.

"you sure? we still got a bit more before you can actually fit me." he warns, his fingers dangerously close to your entrance. you nod, but he ignores it. "words, baby, need you to say it out loud for me."

"mm—" you moan, feeling his fingers graze your clit, "i... i can take it! just fuck me already!"

he plunges two fingers into you and you cum immediately, squirting onto his palm. his hands were big, you knew that, but they were reaching places you couldn't manage to touch yourself.

"fuck, you're so wet," he groans, sucking another mark onto your neck as he fucks his hand into you, "maybe i don't need to do this—maybe you can fit me like this."

he takes his fingers out and you whine, trying to pull him back in. he ignores you, using his other hand to hold both of your wrists above your head as he licks his essence off of his fingers, not wanting to waste a single drop.

he unbuckles his belt swiftly, letting his cock spring out, the tip angry and leaking with precum. it's drenched with its own cum because he couldn't hold back, your moans and whines were enough for him to climax without being touched—if only you knew the effect you had on him. he presses his cock against your entrance and you shudder at his size, suddenly unsure if you could really take it. you try to shy away, scooting your body away from him when he catches you, caging you in his arms as he pins you down.

"aw, don't tell me you're scared now?" he laughs, being uncharacteristically mean. he pushes the tip of his dick a bit further into you, slowly stretching you out with a groan.

"if you can't take it anymore, you just gotta say the word." you glare at him, yanking on his arm to pull his face closer to yours.

"i already said 'fuck me!'"

"as you wish," he smirks, "gotta give my girl what she wants, hm?"

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

TIME: 3:54 AM, YOU THINK. LOCATION: SKYHAVEN, YOU THINK. YOUR BEDROOM... YOU THINK.

you're on all fours, trying to get away from caleb as he pounds you mercilessly, his cum spilling out of your cunt and pooling onto the sheets. his cock is so, so big, you think you're cumming with every thrust, but you're not sure. you don't know how many times you've cum tonight, but you do know that he's made you pass out a few times.

"c-can't... can't..." you cry softly, the pleasure too much for your poor pussy to handle.

"say the word, then. then we'll be at 1 - 0." he taunts, "do you even remember the word, baby?"

you gulp down a sob, nodding while humming weakly as he slows down his thrusts to give you the chance to speak.

"i-i—" you stutter, your mind hazy with cock, "caleb—"

"my name isn't a safeword," he chuckles, "it's Linkon, okay?"

you nod and he smiles sweetly, kissing your forehead before tossing you onto your back, slowly pushing your thighs up and into a mating press.

"just a bit more," he kisses you again, starting up his thrusts once more, "just one more and then it'll be your win."

he resumes the pace he had before, the sound reverberating throughout the bedroom. it's almost animalistic, the marks and bites all over your body, the way your pussy can't even hold in his cum anymore—it's almost like he's trying to breed you, trying to make it stick. you cum weakly, squirting a bit as your eyes roll back. at this point, it's not just stars you're seeing, you can see the entire deepspace tunnel thanks to him. he feels the way your cunt convulses around him and he grunts, unable to stall any longer and he fills you up one last time. his cum floods your womb and spills out, only adding to the mess below you two.

"i guess it's 0 - 1 now. too bad i lost," he says with a smile.

oopsies... caleb u r my muse... also the safeword line has been all over my tl so i couldn't help but implement it! showed up at the perfect time :3

also i actually do not have any ideas on good safewords to use for the men... if yall wanna send some my way in my ask so i can use them in future fics !!!!!

[totally-here]

3 times Phantom's Guardian was Mentioned + 1 Time He Showed Up

One

Phantom’s introduction to Young Justice wasn’t as dramatic as Empress’ or Slobo’s, or even Arrowette’s first introduction to the cave. No, it wasn’t during the Olympics, or on a battlefield, and he didn’t come in injured and looking for help. 

Impulse just brought Phantom in one day and insisted that he should join because he’s their age, interested in justice, and now that Greta’s human again they need another ghost member. So Phantom stayed, popping in and out for missions but never really sticking around all that long. 

Today is one of the days that Phantom’s with them on a mission, that being looking around a lab of the Brain’s that had an energy surge recently, despite it being presumably abandoned. 

Kon got paired up with Phantom to check the rest out first, since they both have better hearing than Anita and Tim, who were both still in the main room working on checking the computers for previous activity. 

The room is dark except for the light green ball glowing slightly above Phantom’s hand. He waves it around enough for it to reflect off of glass, then throws it up to the ceiling. The light expands enough to illuminate the room. 

Phantom mumbles about not knowing he could do that. Kon ignores him and moves closer to inspect the glass tubes to the side of several monitors set up. 

“Looks like cloning equipment,” Phantom says, casually. He drags a finger through the dust gathering on one of the monitors. “Don’t think they’ve been activated recently, though, so that’s good.”

“What? You got a problem with clones or something?” It’s a quick and defensive answer, and Phantom puts his hands up in surrender. 

“Not in concept.” He shrugs and joins Kon near the tubes. “But not a lot of people ask before making clones.”

“So I don’t need to sic Superman on you?” Obviously Kon could chew Phantom out himself, but few can do a “not mad, just disappointed” face better than Clark. 

Phantom scrunches his face. “Why would you need to?” 

Kon stops pretending to inspect the tube and stares at Phantom. “You do know I’m a clone, right?” The blank look on Phantom’s face tells him that no, he did not. “Well I am. Clone of Superman, though we’re pretty much brothers now.”

“Cool,” Phantom says, not a bit less friendly. He hesitates for a second before continuing, “Could I maybe ask you how you got there? Me and my clone have landed on cousins, but that was also, like, given to us by her evil dad. So.”

Phantom trails off. Huh, that makes three members of the team that have been cloned. Not a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened three times. 

“You’re making sure she feels accepted, right?” 

“Yeah! Well, whenever she’s around. She,” Phantom waves his hand around, looking for the right word, “She’s a wanderer. Exploring the world and stuff. But Richard has a room for her at home, and I remind her of that whenever she does stop by.” 

“Well, first of all, don’t push it so hard,” Kon says. Phantom nods enthusiastically. “And second, who’s Richard?”

Kon doesn’t know a lot of Richards, and he doesn’t think that Phantom ever mentioned one before. Or even if he remembers his living life. 

“Oh, he’s my, uh, guardian? I guess that’s the best term. The guy I’m living with who forces me to go to school sometimes.” Phantom looks away and back to the tubes. 

Before Kon can ask for more details, Robin and Empress come in with a report of dead computers and wanting to know where they’re at with the cloning room.

They’re unimpressed with their lack of progress.

Two

Wally doesn’t really need to come by the Hamilton Lodge that often, not when that’s Young Justice’s territory and he doesn’t want to get involved in all of That.

But Red Tornado said that the team has a file on a planet that’s very quickly becoming a league problem, and he figured it might be a good time to try to check in with Bart, anyway. Make sure he hasn’t run any cars off cliffs again and all that. 

So he stops by Manchester to ask Bart about the file, then they both head East to actually find it. 

When they arrive at the hotel minutes later, Wally’s surprised to actually find it… clean? There’s no visible trash or overturned furniture or anything else he’d expect from an abandoned hotel filled with teenagers. Well, maybe not filled, lately. He doesn’t think anyone’s living here currently, with Greta at Elias’ for the school year and Slobo gone. 

Still, the room smells slightly of artificial pine scent, and Bart perks up before disappearing and reappearing rapidly, holding a teammate up by his armpits. Said teammate just accepts this, his legs folding into a wispy tail, and head rolling against his shoulders. 

“This is Phantom!” Bart holds him up higher. Phantom waves. Wally’s only heard of him through Max’s updates, the same way he would hear about Preston or Carol, but with more wariness about the supposed ghost. 

Actually looking at the pale face and glowing green eyes contrasting against the darker than dark jumpsuit, Wally’s a little more ready to accept his claim at being undead. 

“He stress cleans,” Bart explains, moving to carry Phantom under his arm. Wally bites down the urge to tell him to put him down, but only because Phantom doesn’t resist the hold, only moving to get into a more comfortable position. His hands are touching the floor. “So what happened?” 

Bart directs the question downwards, and Phantom heaves a very dramatic sigh. Definitely a teenager. It does raise the question of who exactly this kid’s mentor is. Hopefully he does have one. Maybe he’s the Spectre’s kid?

Phantom phases through the arm holding him only to lay on top of Bart’s hair. “I accidentally called Richard dad. And then fled.” 

Bart nods sagely. “Classic. One time I accidentally called Max dad, so I had to start a fire to distract him.”

Phantom sighs again, almost dreamily. “Genius.” 

Wally doesn’t have time to unpack all of that. Well he does, but he’s not going to, because there’s really only one Richard that comes to mind that might have the heart to take in a dead kid, even if he doesn’t go by his full name.

But surely Dick would have told him, or any other Titan, if he had adopted a kid. Right?

But there’s still a little shadow of doubt. Maybe Dick wanted it to be a secret, or it was really new or had a rocky start. Phantom doesn’t seem to hold himself like a Bat, but it’s not a guarantee Dick would have trained him. 

“The lodge looks nice,” Wally offers out loud, which Phantom shrugs at and wraps his tail around Bart’s head to keep secure. “Anyway, Impulse. The file on Myrg?” 

“Oh yeah!” Again, Bart disappears then reappears a few seconds later with a paper file. They really need to start digitizing more of these things. “That’s the planet where we played baseball so that they wouldn’t destroy Earth!” 

“You what.” 

The prospect of Dick following in his dad’s footsteps is forgotten in the face of what the hell Young Justice got up to on Myrg. 

Three

Tim may be in a…Predicament. 

It’s not his fault. Really. He knew what he was doing. He couldn’t let a civilian fall for the trap. But they were already so close, so he just, kinda, pushed himself into the rope instead. 

So there Robin is, tied upside down in a warehouse, with the Joker below next to an overly complicated control panel. The clown’s rambling about bombs hidden all over the city that Tim knows Batman is already tracking down with Batgirl. 

Tim’s not really paying attention to the rant because of that, more focused on wiggling enough to get the spare mini-birdarang out of his glove to cut the rope without notifying the Joker. 

“Yikes, bad time?” Asks Phantom’s voice beside him. Based on the source and accounting for the slight echo, he’s floating with his head near Tim’s, likely upside down. “Want some help?” 

Tim gets the birdarang out and starts sawing at the thick rope. They should be fine anyway, but stalling the Joker for extra time would be helpful. “Can you possess the Joker? Just hold him still.”

“The correct term is overshadow, but sure.” The voice disappears, and a few seconds later the Joker freezes. 

His body jerks forward, then backward, and a laugh chokes out of his throat. His hand claws over his mouth at the noise and he hunches over. All movement halts before he rights himself, shaking out his hands and rolling his shoulders. Phantom looks up at Tim and his eyes are glowing. 

Tim cuts through the rope, kicking and using the momentum to right himself and land on his feet. He brushes past Phantom in Joker’s body to handle the control panel. He turns off the radio broadcast and dismantles the bomb strapped to the panel.

Threat handled, he turns to Phantom and holds up some handcuffs. “Let me arrest you?”

Phantom obliges, turning the Joker’s body around and putting his hands behind his back. Tim lets him walk by himself out of the warehouse and moves the handcuffs around a lamppost. The Joker’s body jerks again, then slumps forward, just as Phantom reappears next to him, scowling down at the unconscious body. 

“That felt really slimy. Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Phantom grouches. 

“Why’re you in Gotham?” Tim asks. It’s not like Phantom makes a habit of visiting. The last time he came into the city, he complained about feeling the dead under the streets. Fortunately, that let Tim uncover a few tunnels that Talons travel through. Phantom, however, was unnerved by the Talons and left quickly. 

“Oh, Solomon Grundy’s back in our sewers. Richard said I should probably tell one of you Gotham heroes, since you keep track of those guys.” He shakes out his hands like they were cramped in the Joker. 

They hadn’t seen Grundy in a while. Tim assumed he was currently in a less violent personality. “What’s he doing?” 

Phantom shrugs. “Just chilling. Mostly underground. I tried to talk to him but he only grunted back at me. He also tried to pick me up, dunno what that was about.”

“Maybe because you’re both dead?” Tim guessed. That would be a surface level connection. Ivy and Woodrue have had more luck working with Grundy than anyone, and Phantom definitely doesn’t have the connection to the Green that’d help with that. 

Police lights turn around the corner, and Tim shoots a grapple to get to the roof above them. Phantom follows, but disappears as soon as they’re on the roof. Going back home, probably. 

Cass drops down from the roof she was listening on. “Richard?”

“Not the same one.”

They both stick around long enough to watch the Joker get put into the cop car. 

Plus one

A spaceship landed in the forests of New York, and Cassie’s team was the first to respond to it. Technically not respond, but check it out, since there wasn’t any alert or anything. 

Still, Wonder Girl has Empress, Robin, and Superboy on the other side of the ship, watching what looks like the back door, while she, Impulse, and Phantom watch the other door and main window. She has binoculars, but the windows are so tinted she can’t quite make anything out. 

No aliens have come out yet, and she hesitates to have anyone go in, in case whoever inside does turn hostile. 

Impulse has offered to run through a total of five times already, and it’s a testament to his restraint that he hasn’t, and a testament to Cassie’s that she hasn’t yelled at him yet. Phantom at least isn’t being annoying, but he’s not necessarily helpful, either. He’s not even watching the spaceship anymore. Now he’s trying to make a flower crown out of dandelions. 

“Door’s opening on our side,” Robin says from the comms. “But no one’s coming out.” 

“Alright, good enough to try to get in,” Cassie decides. She turns to Phantom, who’s closing off the circle of flowers. Beside him, Impulse has since pulled out a gameboy. “Phantom, go in invisibly through the open door and report back. Try to see what their plans are.” 

“Oh, sure. One second.” Phantom finishes the crown and tries to put it on Bart’s head. It doesn’t quite fit over his mane of hair, but Phantom shrugs and leaves it sitting there anyway before going invisible. 

“Maybe I should shave my head again,” Bart says as his game character dies. 

He gets a resounding no in response. 

Half an hour later they have a very annoyed Green Lantern lecturing them about league jurisdiction and knowing when to call someone else. 

Apparently, the alien ship was just stopping to complete some maintenance, and did not appreciate any spying on them, and especially did not appreciate who did it. Green Lantern was more than happy to explain that Wonder Girl’s team is not really a part of the Justice League and he can help with their maintenance. They denied his help and left to find a place with less people in it. 

“-and you!” Green Lantern rounds on Phantom next, but Cassie knows none of them are really listening. Sure, they messed up by freaking out the visiting aliens, and yeah maybe they should have contacted the league about it, but they’ve dealt with stuff worse than this! It’s not Cassie’s fault she thought that this would have stuck to the formula. 

“Who even are you?” Green Lantern runs a hand through his black hair, stupid green gauntlets shining in the sunlight. “Do I need to call your mentor?” He frowns. “Or do they know you mess up alien technology by just being around it?” 

Phantom scoffs and rolls his eyes. “How was I supposed to know their tech would go all fuzzy when I came in?” 

“You wouldn’t have to know if you just stayed out of the spaceship!” 

“Hey!” Cassie cuts in. “Technically that was my call. It’s not all on Phantom.”

“I still could've been more careful,” Phantom says to her, ignoring Green Lantern as they argue about blame. 

“Cut it out for a second, okay?” Green Lantern puts a hand between them and they stop to glare at him. He pulls the hand back. “Look, can I just talk to one of your adults about this?” 

Robin glares. “We don’t need an adult. We have this under control.”

“Only because I’m here now.” 

“I’ll call my mentor,” Phantom says. Kon opens his mouth, most likely to offer to call Superman instead in hopes of a lighter sentence, but Bart covers his mouth, smiling like he knows something Cassie doesn’t. Tim and Anita share a look, and don’t intervene as Phantom pulls out a phone from his chest. 

It rings once before it’s picked up. Cassie can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Kon’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Hey, do you think you can pick me up? Green Lantern wants to talk to you.” Phantom looks Green Lantern up and down then says, “No, this one doesn’t have a cape.”

Phantom says goodbye after rattling off their coordinates, hangs up, and stares at Green Lantern in silence for a few seconds. 

And then a swirling mass of black seeps into the space next to Phantom. The end of a cane steps out of it, followed by a leg, then the rest of the immaculately dressed man holding the handle of the cane that’s shaped like a bird’s head. 

“Phantom,” The man says. His voice drips with condescension in only a way a british accent can, yet Phantom smiles up at him. The shadowy portal behind him disappears. “What, exactly, happened?”

“That’s the fucking Shade,” Anita hisses to Robin, who shrugs noncommittedly at her. Green Lantern seems to recognise him too, taking a step back and clenching his hand that holds his ring. 

“Well, the team and I were staking out this spaceship–super cool, by the way–and I went inside to check it out, but my presence messed with their tech–which was an accident–and they freaked out, so I freaked out, and then we kinda got into a little fight until Green Lantern came to mediate.”

“Hm. Is that right?” The Shade asks Green Lantern, who nods slowly, still anticipating an attack. “It seems like the problem’s fixed, then.”

“Well, yes, but–”

“And it does seem about time for these kids to get home, doesn't it?” The Shade pulls out an actual pocket watch, chain and all, from his suit pocket and takes his time in checking it. “I’ll see them home.” 

Shadows grow from behind the team, swirling until they become a giant, gaping maw that swallows them up and spits them out in a different forest, or maybe just a different part of the same forest. 

Either way, Cassie has to take a moment to make sure she doesn’t throw up from the sudden vertigo the shadow portal caused. 

The Shade looks at Phantom, and raises an eyebrow. “You can’t expect me to always bail you out.” 

Phantom shrugs, looking guilty. “I know. Thanks, Richard.”

Oh, so that’s who Richard is. Annoyingly, neither Tim or Bart look surprised by this revelation.

[no-144444]

older- d.ricciardo

꩜ summary: maybe you're both older than before, but you're happy, and that's what matters

꩜ pairing: husband! dad! daniel ricciardo x fem! wife! mom! reader

꩜ a/n: every time there's an american race i'm going to suggest preparing for a lot of danny riccy bc i miss him (especially when cota comes around)

Daniel’s back aches when he wakes up, and his moustache and hair is greying a little. That’s how he knew he was getting older. He was only 50, but he felt it. Every bit of it. 

And he wondered how you didn’t. Granted, you were a bit younger, only 43, but still. You basically looked the same way you did when you were 19. When he first fell in love with you. Sure, there were a few more creases by your eyes and maybe some greys were popping up, but in his eyes, you were the same. 

“Dad! Freddie told mom to fuck off!” Harry, your second oldest son, came rushing in the door, his school books in hand, an animated expression on his face. Harry had Daniel’s unruly hair, but your quiet demeanor. He was good in school, good in sports, and focused hard on what he wanted. He didn’t want to race like his dad (much to both of your delights), and he set his sights on directing. He was passionate, smart, and ridiculously good at surfing. He could go toe to toe, even with his old man, and would always win. It was impressive. He was also a bit of a tattle-tale when it came to getting his twin brother, Freddie, in trouble. Daniel couldn’t fault him though, he loved him too much. 

Daniel was on dinner duty, wearing his (stupidly hilarious) ‘kiss the chef’ apron as the delicious smells of steak and fries (and tiramisu for dessert) filled the kitchen. Since his time as a stay-at-home-dad commenced, he had become a passionate cook. He loved trying out new recipes, messing with flavours and cuisines, and of course, always making you his test subject. He whipped his head around to his son, a shocked expression on his face. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” his voice was low and dangerous and his eyes met yours the second you walked in the door. You shook your head, a frustrated expression on your face. Freddie looked guilty, but unrelenting, as all teenagers were. He turned to Freddie, handing the spatula to Harry, who took over steak-duty, listening to his twin get berated. Freddie also shared Daniel’s unruly hair, they were identical twins after all, but he kept it cleanly cut (speaking of that, he really should remind Harry to get his cut). He was a bit more tan than Harry, and he was always a bit of a trouble maker. Again though, Daniel could’t fault him, he loved him too much. But he certainly could fault Freddie for telling the woman he loved (and the woman who birthed Freddie) to fuck off. “What did you say to your mother?” he demanded. 

“Dad-” He silenced him with a look, it was going to be an excuse, and he knew it. “I’m sorry,” he turned to you, but you were already busy grabbing the plates and setting the table. You set the last plate down, all eyes on you. You looked up, staring into your son's apologetic eyes. “I was being a dick-”

“Little ears!” Harry reminded, covering his sister, Maeve’s ears. She’d walked in, clinging to her brother’s leg as a greeting. 

“Sorry,” Freddie repeated. “That wasn’t right mom,” he confessed. You sighed and walked over to him, hugging him. He was already taller than you, and only 17. Part of you wanted to let Daniel chew him out for being such a prick, but you understood that exams were coming up right at the same moment his rugby finals were on, and he had a lot of pressure on his shoulders. Yes, he was a dick, but he was your son. And sadly, that meant you loved him, and saw him as that little brunette kid who cried every time you had to leave for work. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” you huffed and he nodded. “I’m your mom, I’m on your side. I’m not trying to be mean, I just need you to think about your future Freds.” 

He nodded again, knowing you were right from the start. “I know,” he agreed. “I am. It just… stresses me.”

You shrugged. “That’s ok. But it’s not okay to take it out on me or your brother.”

“What did you do to your brother?” Daniel asked, and Freddie gulped. Harry held out his forearm, showing off a pretty impressive bruise. Daniel’s eyes went wide. “Fuck’s sake Freddie,” he cursed under his breath, pulling off his apron. Harry huffed again, covering Maeve’s ears. “What are you doing that for?” 

He didn’t have an answer. 

“Apologise to your brother, now,” you demanded. “And we’ll talk more about this later, alright? If you can’t start figuring out what’s up, we're going to have to have some serious conversations,” your tone was strict but caring, and the parenting part of Daniel was in awe. He was in awe of you all the time, but watching you be so good with your kids was just something else. “Maeve!” you called, kneeling down to pick her up as she ran to you. Freddie walked over and apologised to Harry, who accepted it. Maeve looked a lot more like you, and she was just 6. You carried her on your hip as you made your way over to Daniel, a flirtatious smirk on your lips. He smirked right back, his hands finding your ass as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your lips. Both Harry and Freddie cringed, but you just chuckled, used to his antics by now. 

“Missed you today,” he admitted, his voice low. 

“Oh yeah?” you questioned, smirking. Then your eyes softened with your smile. “Missed you too,” you admitted. “Excited for dinner.” 

“Yeah dad, these look good to me,” Harry announced, grabbing his attention. 

Daniel turned back to the grill and nodded. “Good shout Haz,” he smiled, his hands on his son’s shoulders. “You get ‘em onto a plate and I’ll finish up the veg. Fred,” he called, grabbing his eldest twin’s attention. “Call your sisters down please?” 

Freddie walked to the edge of the stairs and shouted. “Liv! Rhea!” 

“Coming!” Liv shouted back. 

“Oh yeah, Connor is over tonight,” Daniel wiggled his eyebrows at you and you raised yours. “Finally making the effort, I see.” 

 “It took you about 3 months to meet my parents, they’ve been dating for three weeks,” You chuckled and hit his chest playfully, Maeve speaking to Harry over your shoulder. 

Daniel shrugged, a cheeky smirk on his face. God, he was so pretty. That stupid backwards cap and pretty eyes, and that borderline porno moustache (which may or may not have been the reason Maeve was here…) made you want to jump his bones all over again. “I was a racecar driver-”

“He’s a high school student, be kind,” you reminded him with a kiss on his cheek. You brought Maeve over to the table and finished off the last bits as Liv and Connor came down the stairs. She was 15 and turning into the most beautiful girl you’d ever seen. She was so smart. She’d already been on her school debate and mathletes team, bringing both to the championship finals at the national level, you couldn’t be prouder. In all honesty, you’d met Connor before. Liv had wanted you to vet him before she started getting serious, so you got invited to a coffee date with them. He was sweet. Totally boy-next-door-vibes, which was totally her. 

He sent you a soft smile as he sat at the table. 

“Where’s Rhea?” Freddie questioned, sitting at the table, beside Liv. 

“She was on the sim,” Liv explained. “She’ll be down in a few.” 

As if by magic, she came barreling down the stairs and straight into your arms, a quick greeting before taking her spot beside Maeve. Rhea was 11 and every bit the racer her father was. You had hoped the racing gene skipped a generation but alas, it hadn’t and you were already busy researching European boarding schools to send her to in a few years time so that she could move on to single-seaters. She already had a place in the RedBull junior team (despite her father’s reservations) and she was excelling in every single one of her categories. She was a champion, and an F1 champion in the making. 

You sat at the table, the weight of your long day falling off your shoulders as your family gathered. You smiled at the table in front of you. “So, how was everyone’s day?” you asked as Daniel placed the last plate on the table and sat to your left, intertwining his right hand with your left, a smile on his face. 

“Aside from the bruising- thanks Freddie, it was good. Maths test went well,” Harry shrugged, digging into the meal. Freddie rolled his eyes, but Daniel let it go, knowing you'd both be talking to him about his behaviour anyway. 

“Can I see the paper?” Daniel asked through a bite of food. You grimaced. 

“Close your mouth when you eat,” you reminded him, covering his mouth with your hand. He chuckled. 

“I’ll give it to you after dinner,” Harry nodded. “What about you Maeve?” 

Harry was clearly overprotective of Maeve, he noticed how she was the baby of the family and babied her a bit more than everyone else, but they both loved it. She was like a mini him, just even less talkative (unless it was with Oscar- everyone was a big fan of him whenever he came over).

She shrugged. “It was good. We started on multiplication today.” 

“Woah!” Freddie gasped. “That’s pretty big,” he smiled brightly at his little sister. “You’re getting older,” he chuckled, ruffling her hair. She pretended to pout, but laughed as she fixed her hair. 

“That’s great Maevey,” Liv smiled from the other side of the table. “If you need any help with your homework I can give you a hand,” Liv offered and Maeve nodded, going back to eating her dinner. “I have another test next week.”

“What about this time?” Daniel asked, exasperated. “They need to give you a break at some point.” 

“Chemistry,” she sighed. “Connor has it too.”  “I didn’t know you took chemistry,” you turned to him, noticing how rigid his body language was, hoping to make him a bit more comfortable by bringing him into the conversation. “How do you find the teacher? Liv hates him.” 

Connor shrugged lightly. “I mean… he’s not the greatest teacher in the school, but I like his study packs, I think they’re pretty handy.”

“Who is it again?” Freddie asked, knowing Connor from the rugby team. 

“Mr. Brown,” Connor answered and Harry groaned. “I had him last year! He’s so annoying!”

You turned your head to Daniel, who was already looking at you with that lovesick look. You chuckled quietly. “What?” you mouthed. 

“Just love you,” he mouthed back. It still made your heart skip a beat. 

When everyone was finally down to bed, you tucked yourself into Daniel’s side and sighed against his skin. 

“You alright?” he whispered into the darkness of your bedroom, enjoying very much how close you were to him. 

“Just thinking,” you admitted. “The kids are so grown up.” 

He’d come to the exact same conclusion at dinner, watching as Freddie and Harry teased Liv, how Harry babied Maeve, how Liv laughed with Rhea, and how they all looked a lot older than 17, 15, 10, and 6. “I know what you mean,” he chuckled against your skin. “We did a pretty amazing job. We have some pretty incredible kids.” 

You laughed against his collarbone, a melodic sound he would never get tired of. “I guess we did,” you agreed. “Hard not to when they have such a brilliant role model,” you looked up at him with adoring eyes, and he felt himself soften. No jokes. No messing. Just pure… love for the life you two had built over the years. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For them. For you. For everything.”  “Thank you,” you smiled and leaned in, kissing him gently. Maybe you two weren’t the young guns you used to be, riding dirt bikes around his family’s estate, and kissing in cars, but you two were more than fulfilled.

navigation for my blog :)

redbull and vcarb masterlist

[itsxarien]

how bad do u want me | natalie scatorccio x reader

“Cause you like my hair, my ripped-up jeans, you like the bad girl i got in me.”

SUMMARY: After a quiet conversation with Coach Ben in the wilderness, you come to a realization about yourself that you’ve been avoiding for a long time - you’re in love with your best friend, Natalie Scatorccio.

warnings: nsfw, smut with plot, slight angst!

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The fire was dying again.

You and Coach Ben sat across from it, the silence thick between you. Most nights, no one really talked anymore. But tonight—tonight felt heavy, like something needed to be said. You were chewing on a piece of dried something (you didn’t ask), half-listening to the hiss of the flames when he broke the silence.

“You ever been in love?”

The question felt like it came out of nowhere. You blinked at him. “What?”

He gave a tired shrug. “It’s the kind of question you think about a lot out here.”

You stared into the fire for a long time, the heat kissing your cheeks. “No,” you answered too quickly. Then, quieter: “At least, I don’t think so.”

Coach nodded, then said gently, “What about boys?”

“I dated some, but my heart was never really in it.”You shrugged, pulling your knees up to your chest. “It’s always been like that. I tried. I kissed them. I let them take me out. But it just felt like going through the motions. Like I was acting out a scene someone else wrote.”

He looked at you, not with judgment but with something like… curiosity. “So what does feel real to you?”

Your heart stuttered. The answer lived right there, under your tongue, ready to spill. And once you started talking, it didn’t stop.

And someone came in your mind.

Natalie.

You let out a long breath and started speaking, your voice softer than usual.

“When me and Natalie were younger… I don’t think I ever realized how much I needed Natalie. But there was always something between us, something I could never quite explain.” You paused, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. "When we were at my house, my mom would always be downstairs, cooking or doing something. And Natalie and I would go up to my room, lock the door, and just... be together."

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to find the right words. “We’d lie there in my bed, close, too close sometimes. I’d press my legs against hers, feeling the heat of her body next to mine.”

“I think I always knew, even back then, that I wanted more. But I didn’t know how to say it, how to make it real.”

Coach Ben stayed silent, watching you as you spoke. His presence was comforting, and yet, there was a pang in your chest as you relived those memories.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You and Natalie were sitting on her bed in the dim light of her room, the air thick with the smell of cigarette smoke and the faint aroma of her cheap perfume. The faint sound of music played low, something from the ‘80s. Queen, maybe? You weren’t sure, but the static from the speakers added to the feeling of everything being just a little bit hazy.

She was sprawled across her bed, one leg bent, the other stretched out lazily, her ripped jeans showing more skin than you'd care to admit. Her black eyeliner smudged just slightly, as it always did, and her messy hair framed her face in the way it always did—like she didn’t care, but still somehow looked like she owned the room.

You were sitting a little too stiffly beside her, in your usual outfit of pink, a fuzzy sweater and white skirt with a flower hairclip on top of your head. A stark contrast to her—the good girl, the one who was always so... perfect.

You were used to the way people looked at you both, always wondering how the two of you ended up as best friends. You were opposites in every way. You were the quiet, perfect girl, the one who sat in the front of class and smiled politely. She was loud, messy, always caught up in something she shouldn’t be.

Still, here you were. Side by side, as you always were. Yet tonight, something felt different. You could feel it in the air, that shift that always came before something bigger, something you weren’t ready for but knew was inevitable.

“I don’t get why you hang out with me, (Y/N),” she muttered, her voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place. She turned her head, her eyes searching yours for something—maybe an answer. "I'm trouble, you know that, right?"

You glanced at her, biting your lip. You always hated when she said things like that. Like she wasn’t worth it, like you weren’t worth being around her.

“You’re not trouble,” you said, though your voice was quieter than you intended. “You’re just... complicated. But I like complicated.”

She snorted, a sharp sound that made your heart flutter in an oddly comforting way. “Yeah, sure. You like it ‘cause you’re perfect. You’ve got everything together. I’m just a mess.”

That ache you were feeling deep in your chest earlier felt heavier now. The gap between the two of you was always there, but tonight it felt bigger, harder to ignore. You looked at her again, really looked at her. Natalie—your best friend, the one who you’d known for years, who knew you better than anyone else ever could.

“Maybe I like you because I’m not perfect,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “And I don’t want to be.”

There was a long pause as Natalie processed your words. She tilted her head slightly, watching you closely, and then a small, almost sad smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“You’re so good to me, cupcake,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest at the nickname. That nickname. She only ever called you that when she was soft, when she wasn’t trying to hide the part of her that was vulnerable, even if she didn’t always let herself show it.

“I’m not... I’m not good,” you whispered back, your words shaky. You wanted to say more, but the words were stuck in your throat. "You... you’ve been through so much. And you—"

But Natalie cut you off with a shake of her head, her expression turning serious. “You’ve always been good, (Y/N),” she said, her voice like gravel. "You just don’t see it. You always help me, no matter what. You keep me from falling apart."

Her words hung in the air, and you could feel them pressing down on you, making everything feel heavier. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You don’t have to let me in, you know? You can—"

“I’m not going anywhere,” she interrupted, her voice suddenly more forceful than before. She moved closer to you, her leg brushing against yours as she did. The proximity sent a jolt through your body, making your pulse quicken.

The closeness was something you both had always shared—laying side by side, pressing your legs together when you watched movies, when you talked about everything and nothing. But tonight, with everything hanging in the balance, it felt like so much more.

You stared at her for a long moment, the words you wanted to say stuck on your tongue. But then she spoke again, her voice quieter, more vulnerable this time.

“Promise me something,” she said, looking down at your intertwined legs. “Promise me you’ll never leave me. No matter how... messed up I get.”

You didn’t hesitate. “I promise.”

The air between you two felt thick now, like something unsaid was hanging there. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud yet. You couldn’t tell her what you were really feeling, not when the world seemed so uncertain.

You were so different. She was so different. And yet, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere but right here with her.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“She kissed me once,” you admitted, pulling your legs closer to your face.

“Said it was practice."

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Madonna crooned from the cassette player, half-muffled by your bedroom pillow.

Like a virgin… touched for the very first time…

Natalie was sprawled next to you, one foot crossed over the other. Her flannel was sliding off one shoulder, eyes smudged with the kind of liner she never wiped off before crashing at your place. She had a joint in hand, laughing at something stupid you’d said about math class.

“Wanna practice?” she asked, not looking at you.

“Practice what?”

She raised a brow. “Kissing.”

You thought she was joking. But then she rolled over onto her side, facing you, close enough to smell the weed and grape soda on her breath.

You hesitated. “Okay.”

She leaned in like it was nothing. Like you were the one being weird about it. Her lips brushed yours, soft, slow, as if she’d done it a hundred times.

You didn’t even move at first. You just felt it—this terrible, perfect spark crawling up your spine. You kissed her back, and it felt like falling. You wanted to cry, and you didn’t know why.

When she pulled back, she grinned.

You wanted her to do it again.

And she did, again and again.

When she kissed you, it wasn’t playful. Not really. It was slow, searching. Her tongue moved against yours like she was memorizing it.

Later, she had pulled back, breathless, eyes darker than the night.

“Damn,” she whispered. “They don’t kiss like that.”

You didn’t sleep that night.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“She kissed me again, later,” you told Coach, your voice cracking. “A bunch of times. And then she touched me.”

You didn’t mean too say it out loud, but it was already gone. Out in the cold air, hanging there like smoke.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

It had been late, after another party, when she’d stumbled into your car, laughing. Her eyeliner smeared, her voice sticky sweet with whiskey.

“You’re always so soft,” she murmured, leaning against you in the passenger seat, cheek pressed to your shoulder.

“You’re always so loud,” you said back, trying to steady your voice even though your hands were trembling on the wheel.

She laughed and turned her head, eyes glassy, breath warm on your skin.

“You ever think maybe I’m loud ‘cause I don’t wanna hear myself think?”

You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t. Just drove her home in silence, the quiet between you almost unbearable.

That night, she left her bedroom door cracked open like she always did when she didn’t want to sleep alone. You followed, heart hammering like you were doing something wrong.

You helped her change. Her skirt was hitched too high, her shirt sliding down one shoulder. When she sat on the edge of her bed, legs loose and lazy, she reached for the strap of your sando, tugging them, letting it leave your shoulder.

“Wanna practice again?” she whispered, lips brushing yours.

Your breath hitched, your cheeks flushing. “Yeah,” you said, and kissed her.

God, you kissed her like it would be the last time. Like it had to count.

It started soft. Your lips, her tongue, the way she cupped the back of your neck. But she tasted like smoke and sugar and something that burned, and soon your sando was half off, her hands under your bra, skimming the bare skin of your sides.

She touched you like she meant it. Like she’d been thinking about it.

Her hand slid beneath your waistband, fingers grazing the elastic of your panties. Your hips jolted.

“Natalie…” you gasped, but it wasn’t a protest. It was a plea.

She paused, eyes locking with yours. “You want me to stop?”

You shook your head.

Her fingers dipped lower, slow and careful, until she brushed against the wet heat of you. You choked out a sound, half gasp, half whimper.

“God, you’re already soaked,” she said, voice low and rough, almost reverent.

She kissed your collarbone as she slid a finger inside, then two. Her touch was practiced, but gentle. She curled them just right, dragging them slow, deep, the heel of her hand pressing firm against your clit. You buried your face in her neck, biting down to muffle the moan tearing from your throat.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Don’t stop.”

She didn’t. Her fingers worked you open, curling and stroking, coaxing you toward the edge until your thighs were shaking, your back arching, your hands twisted in her sheets.

You came like that, trembling in her lap, forehead pressed to hers, a quiet sob catching in your throat.

She kissed you after, messy and slow. Then she pushed you gently down onto the bed and climbed between your legs.

“Wait - ” you started, but her mouth was already there.

She kissed your thighs first, soft, dragging her teeth across the skin. Her hands pushed your legs open, steady and sure. And then-

Her tongue. Warm, slow, deliberate. She licked a long stripe up your slit, then circled your clit, teasing, tasting.

You cried out.

“Natalie -”

She moaned against you like she was drunk on it. Like she wanted to ruin you slow.

And she did.

The last thing you remembered before the flashback burned out was the sound you made. loud, raw, real - and the way she looked up at you from between your legs like you were something sacred, as she enjoyed

You never noticed but the way she looked at you, it was love.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You looked down at your lap. Your hands were shaking.

“It was my first time,” you admitted.

Coach Ben nodded, listening intently.

You thought that was it—that the conversation would taper off into silence like everything else here did. But then he looked at you again, steady and quiet, like he was waiting for something to click.

“Maybe the love you’re looking for,” he said gently, “has always been in front of you. Waiting.”

You froze.

The fire popped. Your heart did too, in a different way.

He said it like he knew something you didn’t. Like he’d seen it in the way Natalie passed you her joint with soft fingers. The way she always sat just close enough that your knees touched. The way she looked at you when she thought you weren’t looking - tired, tender, like she didn’t know how to say don’t go.

“Maybe,” he added, “you’ve just been looking for it in the wrong people.”

Your throat burned. You didn’t have an answer.

Just Natalie’s name echoing through your chest like a secret you’d been too afraid to tell out loud.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe she’d always been right there.

Waiting.

And as you return to the cabin the, faint rise and fall of Natalie’s breathing as she lay curled up on the cot, her face relaxed in sleep.

There was space next to her, an empty spot on the edge of the blanket, clearly left for you.

You smiled softly to yourself, a strange warmth blooming in your chest. It was a small thing, but it meant the world to you.

As you moved closer, the cool night air from the door fading behind you, you hesitated. You knew what you were feeling now. You couldn’t ignore it anymore. You couldn’t hide from the truth.

Coach Ben’s words echoed in your mind—Maybe the love you're looking for has always been in front of you, waiting. You thought about it again, about how, all this time, you’d been searching for something that was never really gone.

It had always been Natalie.

You gently eased into the space beside her, sliding your arms around her waist and pulling her close. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her body fitting into yours like it was always meant to. You hugged her tightly from behind, feeling the warmth of her skin seep into yours.

And in the quiet of that moment, you realized what Coach Ben had meant. You’d been looking for love in all the wrong places, convinced that there was something out there for you, when all along it was right here. Right in front of you. Waiting.

Natalie.

The love you’d been searching for, the love you had been too scared to admit, was already yours.

And as you held her close, the world outside the cabin seemed so far away. The noise, the chaos, it all faded to nothing. All that mattered was the warmth of her body in your arms and the gentle sound of her breathing.

 Coach Ben had been right after all.

THE END

[byuntrash101]

big bad wolf

f!reader x bangchan ft. stray kids smut | mdni 2.6k maybe you bit off more than you could chew when you hyped up your game to the campus’ infamous big dick owner nsfw tags under the cut

#5: huge dick + size kink (twt p☆rnlink) college!au, toxic ex bf!minho, frat boy!bangchan, alcohol consumption, one night stand, explicit consent asked and given, chan is really a tease, gentle dom!chan, daddy kink (i mean we're talking about chan here) , size kink (reader is smaller than chan), huge monster cock!bangchan, size training, protected sex (good job), oral (f), multiple orgasms, some humor at the end ♡

a/n : i was like this 🥴🥴🥴 writing this because ughhh im in love with this bangchan! wanna see the other entries for the event? check out the link <3

3k celebration | skz masterlist | navigation

“I mean being single is great and all” you said while downing the rest of the ungodly cocktail your best friend mixed for you earlier at the party. Before she left with Jisung. “But like I miss the toxic sex, ya know?” Christopher nodded his head while he took the empty cup from your hand to set it at the table beside the both of you on the couch.

The party was over so to speak. Everyone had left or was just passed out on random surfaces all over the frat. ΝΣΒ (nu sigma beta) was the frat that organized the best parties on campus. Well the second best parties but ΩΔΦ (omega delta phi) had Minho going to their parties and well you were finally over him that wasn't to run into him at a random party to drink and hook up with him again. You were determined to break free of the destructive cycle. That’s how you came to attend the parties here and met Christopher and his frat bros Changbin and Jisung. These three were quite the trio. Well not right now because Jisung was probably fucking your best friend somewhere and Changbin was passed out over the keg. Only Christopher remained somewhat (if not entirely) sober. He didn’t like alcohol that much, he claimed.

“Yeah I get you dude. Toxic sex is the best…” Christopher sighed. “But why though?”

“I don’t know man!” you said with a pout. “Also my ex was like… packing” the alcohol in your system was making it harder to perceive the fine line between sharing past experiences and simply oversharing. But Christopher wasn’t phased by it at all. On the contrary he was… intrigued.

“Really?” He questioned.

“Bro, he was real big. Like real big.” you said, closing your eyes trying to recall the extraordinary appendix Minho was blessed with. “The biggest I’ve ever seen really. I just miss that…” you said, finally opening your eyes again, purposefully avoiding thinking about your ex’s devil dick for too long before you drunkenly run to the other side of campus and to him again. When you open your eyes you see Christopher looking at you with an indecipherable expression.

“Well yeah. I miss someone that’s used to dealing with guys that are on the bigger end of the spectrum” Christopher was speaking very carefully, he was very clearly trying to hint at something but at the same time he didn’t want to come off as pressing or bragging.

You raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” you asked as neutral as you could be, but still picking up on Christopher’s hint.

“Well you know. Girls always say it’s what they want. But like when I pull it out they either just run away or I mean they pull through but I can tell they’re not enjoying it. So I usually cut things short.” 

It’s true you heard one or two rumors about Christopher also being on the bigger end but you never paid attention to them. Now, they were suddenly running back to you.

“I just wanna be with a girl that's kinky and that you know… just enjoys herself with me”

Suddenly you were looking at him differently. You looked at his big biceps resting crossed over his chest and the sleeveless loose fitted white top. He was wearing a cap that covered his soft brown curls but they were still peaking at the back of his head and around his reddened ears. 

All of a sudden you were painfully conscious of Chris’ sheer size. Even though he was simply sitting next to you his large sturdy shoulders occupied the space on the couch. You found your eyes wandering to his lower half where his muscular thighs generously filled the black basketball shorts. And eventually your gaze wandered to his groin where you did notice a particularly remarkable bulge.

“You know, bro?” Chris took off the cap briefly, combing his hair with one large hand before flipping it backwards and patting it back on. He looked a little bit frustrated.

“Yeah I get it.”

Silence settled.

“Looks like we could like… help each other… maybe” you started carefully. That was uncharted territories, you didn’t know how Chris was going to react but you were a little intoxicated and that made you forget about the consequences or more like postpone thinking about them. You’ll do that tomorrow.

A cocky smirk spread on Chris’ face. An expression you had yet to witness. Usually he was all about wholesome smiles and cute laughs. But this one, this expression stirred excitement and thrill within you.

“Wanna see the big bad wolf?” Chan said right before sending you a cheeky wink that left you speechless. Before he started laughing out loud and lightly pushed you on the arm. “Just messing with you” Chris said, returning to the sunny smile.

“Why are you all cocky for anyway?” you outbid. “I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t seen” you said, shrugging, eyes a little defiant. And Chris’ smirked returned to his handsome face just as quick. He felt a tingle in his lower half. He enjoyed that attitude you had right now. Wouldn’t it be fun to make you swallow those words? Amongst other things…

“Think you can handle it, babygirl?” Chan said, extending his massive arm behind your head on the couch and leaning on to you, making you feel even smaller. You took a whiff of his cologne, the alluring aromas or vanilla, cedar and citrus casting a spell on you.

“Yeah of course I can” you said, steady voice oozing all the confidence in the world. Making Chris chuckle again. 

***

Well maybe you couldn’t…

That is what you thought when Christopher dragged you to his room as the early rays of the dawning sun were licking the blinds. 

“Having second thoughts, babygirl?” Christopher said, smiling down at you while you looked up at him and sat on his bed. The loose fitting top was all he had left on him. Even the cap was now littering the ground, letting the soft brown curls loose. and you silently thanked the heavens for this. Maybe if he would have been completely nude you would have died right there.

He was absolutely breathtaking: large shoulders, thick arms and veiny forearms going down to his big hand holding the absolute monster that usually peacefully rested between his sturdy thighs. But right now it was awakened, and awaiting.

The thing was not only incredibly massive but also unbelievably long. Thick veins ornamented the length of it from the base to the red and dripping tip.

“So am I bigger than your ex?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“Um, yeah a little bit I think” 

Lie. Big fat lie.

Christopher knew that. He knew that very well but he appreciated that you kept up with that act. He found that amusing.

“Perfect! Let’s get started then” 

“What?” you said as he wrapped his warm hands around both your wrists, gently pushing you down on the mattress until you laid there with only your feet hanging off the bed. He put your wrists at each side of your face, laying his weight over you. He was heavy, but it was comforting, reassuring. You felt small but also safe under him. The heat from his body ignited a fire within you.

“Don’t worry babygirl” Chris whispered leaning into your ear. You felt his hot breath fanning your burning cheek. “Daddy will get you nice and ready for him.” You felt yourself flutter at the name. You were definitely responding to it.

Christopher licked big swipe on your ear making your breath itch in your throat and you bit your lip to repress a moan. Fortunately you didn’t have to think about it too much because Chris kissed you instantly, one of his hands leaving your wrist to wrap around your throat, his thumb pulling on your chin to open your mouth. You didn’t fight back, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. He tasted sweet, like energy drinks and tropical fruit juice. Now you knew for sure he was completely sober. But Chris, on the other hand, wasn't so sure anymore, because he sure felt drunk right now. Drunk in you, in this kiss. He threw himself into you, moaning in your mouth as you arched your back and he rolled his hips into you, pressing his hard cock onto your hip.

Before you could think too much about it Chris stripped you of your clothes, one article after the other until you found yourself completely exposed to him. Chris got up and took a step back to admire your body under the rays of the sun piercing through the blinds. You were gorgeous, stunning and he couldn’t wait to finally be inside you.

He then pulled on your hips to bring you on the edge of the bed where he kneeled on the ground and gently parted your legs. 

“Fuckk” he cursed under his breath when he saw your cute little pussy already glistening with need and lightly twitching. He only wanted one thing: to taste you. So he did.

He first laid a gentle kiss on your clit which made you jolt up and he smirked against you in satisfaction.

“Awww baby. Are you always this sensitive or is it daddy doing that to you?” He licked a large stripe from your entrance to your clit, staying there for a second giving more attention to the sensitive bud. 

“F-fuckkk. No it’s y-you” you breathed in, arching your back and fisting the sheets beneath you. “Daddy is doing this to m-me”

Christopher felt his heavy length jump just as the mention of the word in your mouth, it sounded so fucking good, so fucking sexy. It made him want to please you, be good for you.

He licked and swirled his tongue on your swollen bud earning more moans and pants from you. Until your cunt was throbbing against his lips and your heart was beating in your ears.

“Im… Fuck… gonna c-cum” you said lifting your face to see Christopher looking up at you from between your thighs. 

“Go ahead baby. Cum for daddy”

You came undone at the end of his tongue, your walls fluttering around nothing, thick slick gushing out of you and covering Chris’ face. 

“God fuck.. don’t- s-stop” you begged, tensing up your legs and your orgasm ripped through you. Chris didn't stop there, instead he gradually slowed down to help you down your high at your own rhythm.

“Fuckkk... Please daddy I need you inside me” you said looking at him. And he got back on his feet again. With disconcerting ease he grabbed you at the hips and flipped you on your stomach and lifted you so you were on all fours. 

He reached for his night stand where he took out of one of the drawers a condom and tore the wrapper hastily. 

“Was hoping you’d say that babygirl”

As soon as the condom was on he brought his tip to your soaked and fluttering little hole. You were feeling desperately empty and you wanted nothing more than to be stuffed full of Chris’ big fat cock. You wiggled your hips to urge him to fill you up.

“Are you ready baby?” he asked, making sure one last time you were still on board. 

“Yess daddy.. Yes please. Don't make me beg” You said, despair dripping from your lips. And Christopher resisted the urge to do just that. Maybe another time.

He started to push his huge cock inside you and you braced yourself feeling your walls expand beyond belief to accommodate the thick and hard length. Very slowly Chris continued to progress inside you. You gritted your teeth, fisting the sheet even harder and exhaling a faint complaint.

“It’s okay baby. You can do it. Big breaths, ok?” Chris encouraged you before continuing.

Thanks to Chris’ prepping,  the pain was bearable. Now you didn't even have a single shadow of a doubt left. Chris was indeed bigger than Minho. 

Soon enough he managed to push the whole monstrous thing inside you.

“There you go baby” Chris said gently stroking your back. “That’s my good girl. Say when daddy can move okay, darling?” he laid a soft kiss to the crown of your back, his voice appeared to be somewhat strained. Your tightness was also hard to handle on his part.

“Ok” you huffed quietly.

You took a couple of seconds to get used to him but eventually the pain disappeared. 

“You… can move”

Slowly Chris started to pull out only to push right back in when his tip was just barely hinging in. 

“Oh- fuckfuckfuck” you panted. 

“You’re doing so good, baby. So good for daddy” Chris said, pulling out once again.

He repeated the process until he felt you relax around him and the sharp breaths and sighs turned into moans and whines. 

“Fuckk so… so fucking big” you said arching your back while Chirs’ big hands wrapped around your waist to pull you back on his cock everytime he was pushing in. 

“Fuck your little cunt is so wet and tight for me baby”

“Hmmm daddy” you whined. “Please faster”

“Fuck so fucking naughty” he said as started to fuck you faster, deeper, dragging your precious nectar on his cock and making you moan louder.

“Fuck I won’t last long baby”

“Pleasepleaseplease daddy I'm almost there” 

Chris circled your hip and brought two fingers to rub circles on your clit, you threw your head back, completely letting go of the last bit of sanity you had left. Chris felt you throbbing around his cock.

“Fuck daddy…I'm cumminggg” 

“That's it cum for daddy” Chris said, his voice was strained as he felt you flutter around him, urging him to let got. Spurts of hot cum rushed into the condom as he hips became erratic, as continuously fucked into you until you were both satifed and out of breath. 

You collapsed and he rolled next to you, taking the condom off and tying it before rushing to the bathroom and returning with a warm towel and handing it to you. 

“Fuck that was… amazing” he told you with a bright smile that you knew. 

“So you like being called daddy? Now I understand why you’re into kinky girls.” you said, raising an eyebrow, teasingly.

“Oh– Hm.. well. Yeah… sorry it was like in the heat of the moment” he scratched the side of his face before ruffling his brown curls.

“Oh don't worry about it. I liked it” 

“We should like.. do that again sometimes… I mean if you're down”

It’s funny how he started all cocky and confident and now he was the one stumbling on his words and being flustered. You found that cute.

“Yeah we should”

“CHRIS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING???” You heard Jisung’s loud voice coming from the hall. “WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR PRACTICE” He fumbled with the door handle. “WHY IS YOUR DOOR CLOSED?”

“Get the fuck out Jisung. I’m busy” Chris said and you giggled.

“Bro, I think he’s fucking someone in there” Jisung said, this time to someone else.

“OI, MATE WHO’S IN THERE WITH YOU?? IS IT Y/N??” Felix’ unmistakably low voice asked.

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT“ Chris shouted.

“Fuck… I think you made him mad.” Felix said.

“Bro how the fuck is it me? You the one who insisted” You heard the two voices getting further.

“Don’t pay attention to them” Chris said and you both laughed and went back to bed, to get a well deserved couple of hours of sleep before a day full of college classes.

3k celebration | skz masterlist | navigation

a/n: thanks for reading babe if you enjoyed reblig or leave a comment because delulu is the solulu <3

[sweetheartspence]

౨ৎ booked & busy - s.r. ౨ৎ

you doze off while studying for finals. spencer is there to take care of you.

pairing: spencer reid x grad student!reader genre: fluff content: established relationship, gn!reader, reader is not taking care of themself, spencer uses pet names, tooth rotting fluff wc: 818 a/n: currently suffering through finals and cannot get my brain to focus. so this itty bitty blurb is the product. i wish i had a spencer to make sure i took care of myself. requests/asks are open! my masterlist!!

Your eyes are starting to blur after reading the same sentence for the fourth time, making no more sense out of it than you had the first three times. You're sitting cross legged on the couch, surrounded by papers, articles on the topic you're writing a dissertation on. God, this is your passion, but sometimes you wish you had picked something a little bit easier.

You scrub your hand over your face, sighing and knocking your glasses askew. There's too many big words, and you haven't gotten nearly enough sleep to process all of them. You've been so busy drafting this paper that you haven't been sleeping properly, and Spencer hasn't been around to make you. You chew absently on your thumbnail, shuffling a stack of papers around, trying to find a specific one. Had it even been in that stack? Did you completely imagine that quote?

You sigh again, setting your highlighter to the side. The words are swimming behind your eyelids, becoming little blobs on the page. You're honestly not even convinced they are words. Maybe this author is just making words up, and gaslighting you into believing they're real because of their credentials and the fact that it's been nearly a week since you've gotten a proper rest.

Maybe if you just close your eyes for a moment, you could get them to focus...

---

Spencer is headed back to your shared apartment. He's just gotten home from a long case across the country, lasting nearly a week and a half, and hadn't let you know that he was coming home. He was intending on surprising you, but when he walks in, he finds you fast asleep on the couch, your head tilted back, your mouth slightly open.

Spencer's heart nearly melts in his chest. God, did you have to be so cute? He wonders for a brief moment why you're not sleeping in your bed, but clocks the articles spread out over your lap and the couch. He smiles, and makes his way over to the couch, careful not to disturb you.

Spencer gathers up the papers, stacking them neatly and setting them aside on the coffee table. He gathers you carefully into his arms, tucking your head under his chin, and carries you off to bed.

---

You wake up horribly disoriented. When did you climb into your bed? You blink slowly, reaching up to rub at your eyes. And your glasses are off...

You sit up, looking around the room, blinking blearily, and you see a man sitting on the other side of the bed. He's reading, his fingers skimming along the pages, his lips pursed in concentration. He looks over at you as you sit up, his dark curls falling into his eyes, and immediately his features soften. "Hi, baby," Spencer says fondly, reaching out for you. He wraps a hand around your waist, pulling you to him, closing the book and setting it carefully on the nightstand. The tips of his fingers slide underneath the material of your shirt, tracing along sensitive skin.

"Hi," you say breathlessly, surprised to see him. "You're... home."

"Try not to sound so excited," Spencer smiles, tucking a stray piece of your hair out of your face. This is his favorite way to see you- soft, sleepy, a little lost, and all his.

"I'm- I was studying, and now I'm in bed," you tell him, your eyes widening almost comically. "Christ, I need to finish that chapter of my dissertation, I have pages due this weekend, and-"

"Sweetheart," Spencer interrupts gently. "You need to sleep. You can't do anything while you're this tired. You'll end up having to rewrite the pages anyway, and that's just going to make more work for yourself."

You bite your lip, considering this for a moment. You know he's right, you're too tired to really focus, and the bed is warm and inviting. Spencer is looking at you with those soft eyes, the expression he saves just for you, and you suddenly can't find it in yourself to move away from him.

"Okay," you whisper, tucking your nose into the soft hollow under his jaw. It fits perfectly into the spot, like it was made for you.

"Okay," Spencer repeats softly, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Go to sleep, darling. I'll be here when you wake up, and I'll make you tea, and we can figure out a work schedule for you to get your pages done."

You sigh, nuzzling further into his neck, hiking a leg up to drape it around his thigh. "You're too good to me, you know."

"Just giving you what you deserve," Spencer murmurs, running a gentle hand through your hair. "Go to sleep."

You fall asleep like that, tangled up in one another, the smell of him surrounding you. Old books, rain, and a hint of lemon.

It's the best sleep you've gotten in weeks.

[ive-been-timebombed]

Oneshot

Request by @purplereaderfans

Prompt by @satoshy12

DPXDC

Aged down Danny beating Tim in college..

“Okay Danny, remind me of the rules again” Jazz looked to the kid in her arms, the kid was eating a bright green popsicle. Like the kid wasn’t a toddler and wouldn’t get sticky.

“Uh.. rule one! Don’t be loud! And if I have questions raise my hand.” Danny struggled to hold up one finger but when he managed he held it up his popsicle in his other hand.

“Rule two! Don’t interrupt with stupid things. Like puns or fart jokes!” Danny pulled his hand down again and stared at his hand till he got two fingers held up then which a looked at Jazz with a grin

“Then rule three! If I need the bathroom or food ask you,” Danny held up his thumb this time making three fingers being held up.

“Lastly! Don’t wonder off! Like momma and Daddy!” Danny put his hand down and put the popsicle in his mouth hurriedly licking up the melted popsicle off his hand.

“You forgot one Danny, Rule five dont Fenton the others here. You know what that means right?” Jazz asked bending down and opening the backpack she had packed it was basically a diaper bag. It held wipes, emergency ectoplasm, change of clothes, the Fenton Thermos, and many other things Jazz had knew they would need. Jazz had dug around in the bag and pulled out the wipes ready to clean Danny up when he finished the popsicle in record time.

“Yeah! It means.. be respectful of others bubble’s and no ghost things! Also don’t tell other people of things I shouldn’t know about them but I do know-“ Danny licked off the last bit of the ectopop enjoying the melting ecto in his mouth. He then gave a short scream as Jazz attacked him with the cold wipe. Cleaning off the ecto off his face and hands. She took the popsicle stick and wrapped the wipe around it and put it in the diaper bag.

“That’s right, now I know you’re not as old as you used to. And I don’t know your mental age right now. But I promise you won’t get in trouble if you do have an accident or something you would describe as childish.” Jazz stood up picking up the backpack in her hand and putting one strap over her arm and walked out of the stall. Where she was hiding when she noticed Danny looked dizzy and a bit pale. She guess it was the old ectoplasm in the air that he was absorbing. She guessed right and when Danny ate the emergency Ectopops he went right by back to normal.

She sat Danny in the bathroom sink and put the bag to the other side of him. Her body was in front of him so he couldn’t fall off the counter. As she washed her hands getting rid of her own stickiness Danny had put on her. Then she put the bag on both her shoulders and picked Danny up resting him on her hip Danny arm wrapping around her forearm instantly.

Danny was looking around as all babies did as Jazz walked out the bathroom pulling out her phone to look at her schedule.

“Okay, first is introductory psychology. Which in in building F.” Jazz mumbled to herself looking up and putting her phone back in her pocket and started to walk through the dorms.

_________

“Danny, you remember what happened last time you chewed on a pen?” Jazz asked looking over at her brother who was sitting in the seat next to herself. The chair was pulled closer and a random assortment of things were on the table in front of him.

“It explodes in my mouth..” Danny frowned taking the pen out his mouth. The pen had many teeth marks.

‘Well that explains the blue mouth of the kid..’ Tim thought to himself he was two chairs back a bit higher than the two siblings. He had started to wonder about the stained blue mouth and the blue marks on his hands and around his mouth. Even the kids teeth were stained blue.

Tim was in introductory Psychology as his minor. He needed to know more about what was going on in peoples head. It would help with many things.. even learn some tricks he could use on his siblings maybe? He was majoring in astronomy weirdly. Tim knows just about anything on Earth but when it came to the stars he was admittedly lacking.

He was curious about the kid when he overheard the kids sister suggested to the kid about asking the astronomy professor if he could sit in during a class as the kid was incredibly bored in the psychology classes. Danny, names were also learned from his eavesdropping, looked at his sister like she hung the stars which Tim didn’t doubt that to him, she did.

_________

Oh. My. Clockwork. Jazzy has the best ideas! And Profess Brunn is so nice! She says I can sit in on a lesson and if I’m good I can do it again! Jazzy just dropped me off at the classroom and gave me to Profess she sat me down in the front row so she can keep in eye on me. I asked if I could ask and answer questions and she said yes!

“All right guys! Since we just came back from break we’re gonna be getting back into it with our last lesson! I’m gonna do a review on last lesson and then hand out a paper. It will be worth a grade so please actually try” Professor Brunn started the class with energy most of the class didn’t have.

__________

Who the hell is this kid?!

Tim stared at the laptop with a blank face. He was in the front of the class staring at the paper taped to the board. Usually he wouldn’t bother but that kid, Danny, finished quickly and even asked if there was more. The professor sent out the five best grades to encourage or something. Usually Tim was first.. but he wasn’t this time.

Or the next. Or even the next before that.

It was fine because it was just the one class for almost a week. Then that kids name just started to show up more and more on each list. Till on every class Tim took it was Danny Fenton first and Timothy Drake second. Jasmine Fenton third usually second before Danny appeared.

Tim was genuinely questioning if he was mind controlled. Did he get a concussion and not notice? Did he have a chip in his brain that made him stupider? Was he losing his mind? Did he need to start sleeping more regularly.? Did he need to cut down his caffeine intake? He only drank a few coffees a day.. not including the energy drinks. But- but. What’s happening to him?!

_________

“What’s going on with Drake?” Damian scowled as he looked over to Grayson next to him. He was standing behind Drake with Grayson after he had been called to pick up Drake after he had picked up Damian from school. Damian followed his brother’s gaze to Professor Smith, the engineering professor, who was at his desk looked at them with amusement.

“He was second place in the scoring this week, he’s been staring at the paper for maybe half an hour after class ended” Professor Smith told the brothers

“So?” Dick shrugged looking back to his brother putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder which snapped the other out of his despair, “It wouldn’t be the first time,”

“Yeah, but this time it’s been multiple weeks and to the same kid. A four year old to be exact” Professor Smith added before looking to door as someone knocked and it was opened

“Sorry, Danny here forgot his notebook in here” Jazz held open the door for her little brother to slip in and run to a table that had a black notebook with stars draw on it. Jazz held her hand out for Danny to take it as he came back. Danny turned and waved to the Professor as the door shut after them

“Danny, the child genius, has beaten Timothy here.. five weeks in a row now in this class. But Danny only came to the campus after Christmas break. But I’m guessing the number will only continue to grow,” Professor Smith continued as he watched the door shut and the two other wall away through the door window.

Tim, who just watched his new four year old nemesis wave bye to him, had a twitching eye. It also didn’t help with the demon laughing at him and Dick holding in his own laughter..

[mephisto-reporting]

Dinner’s Ready

About: After a long and exhausting day filled with chores and responsibilities, the reader finds unexpected comfort and support from someone unexpected Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are not in a relationship yet but there is an implied mutual attraction.

SYLUS

The day had dragged on, pulling at every ounce of your patience. The Hunters Association had been relentless—meetings, reports, more meetings. You had barely had time to breathe, let alone grab lunch. As much as you wanted to collapse into bed the moment you got home, you knew that wasn’t in the cards tonight. The dishes were piling up, the laundry was overdue, and you still needed to make dinner. Ugh, just the thought made your head spin.

You’d spoken to Sylus earlier in the day, venting about how chaotic everything had been. He’d listened, as he always did, his smooth voice teasing you about biting off more than you could chew. But you hadn’t expected him to really care; Sylus wasn’t the type to coddle, especially not when he knew you could handle yourself.

Yet, as you stopped by the grocery store to grab ingredients, you couldn’t help but think about how nice it would be to have just one thing go your way today. Maybe a nice bowl of pho, something warm and comforting. But making it from scratch? Hell, no. That was not on your agenda for the foreseeable future.

You sighed heavily, picking up the essentials and thinking about the mountain of laundry waiting for you back at the apartment. "Today... I just can't catch a break," you mumbled to yourself, rubbing at your temple as you mentally ticked off your endless to-do list. Would it ever end?

As you rounded the corner to your building, your breath hitched in surprise. Standing casually near the entrance to your apartment complex, leaning against the wall with a faint smirk on his face, was none other than Sylus. His black coat billowed slightly in the evening breeze, and he looked every bit as confident and composed as always. But what surprised you even more was the sight of a bag in his hand, and the fact that he was here, yet again unannounced.

"Sylus? What are you doing here?" you asked, blinking as you approached him.

He pushed off the wall with that lazy grace of his, his smirk widening ever so slightly. "I was in the area, sweetie." he said smoothly, examining his finger nails. "Thought I’d drop by."

You frowned, not entirely convinced. Sylus didn’t just drop by without a reason. Your eyes flickered to the bag in his hand, curiosity bubbling to the surface as you unlocked the door and motioned for him to come inside.

Once inside, you barely had time to put your groceries down before Sylus moved toward the kitchen counter, setting his own bag down. His movements were confident, efficient, as if he’d been here a hundred times before.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you said, watching as he pulled out two bowls, your curiosity growing. “What’s with the bag?”

He glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Just thought you could use a break. Take a seat." he instructed, his voice a little softer than usual.

Too tired to argue, you did as he said, sinking into a chair as he deftly unpacked the contents of the bag. To your utter shock, he began plating two steaming bowls of pho—from your favorite restaurant. The broth, the noodles, the garnishes—it was all there, and it looked perfect.

"How did you know…?" you murmured, eyeing the bowl in disbelief. You hadn’t told anyone about your pho craving.

Sylus glanced at you, a knowing glint in his eye as he placed the bowl in front of you. "Mephisto noticed you were... less than pleasant all day," he said casually. "Figured this would make things better."

Your gaze flicked to the sleek black crow perched on the window, and back to him, your lips parting in surprise. He’d actually noticed. More than that, he’d cared. And in his own subtle, roundabout way, Sylus had made sure to do something about it.

Your tired muscles seemed to relax all at once as you let out a sigh, a genuine smile tugging at your lips for the first time that day. “You have no idea how much better this makes things,” you murmured, feeling the exhaustion from the day begin to melt away. "You didn’t have to do this," you said softly, meeting his gaze. He always went out of his way when it came to you and you often felt guilty for you thought you did not have enough to offer him anything in return. It wasn’t often that Sylus went out of his way for others—his world was one of deals, power, and survival, not tenderness or comfort. But here he was. For you.

Sylus chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, I think I do,” He grabbed his own bowl sliding into one of your kitchen chairs with that same self-assured ease."But... you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Thought I’d step in before you ran yourself into the ground."

You raised an eyebrow, a soft chuckle escaping you. "Oh, and this has nothing to do with you wanting to keep your favorite hunter functional?"

"Maybe…" His eyes held yours for a moment longer before he dug in, motioning to the table. "Now eat before it gets cold."

The two of you sat down, and for a few moments, there was a comfortable silence between you as you savored the meal. The pho was perfect, the warmth of the broth soothing the ache that had settled into your bones. You hadn’t realized just how much you needed this moment of peace.

As you glanced over at Sylus, his usual sharp edges seemed softer somehow. Maybe it was the dim light in the apartment, or the fact that he had gone out of his way to do something kind, something just for you.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice soft, almost shy, as you broke the silence. “This… it really does help.”

Sylus looked at you, his gaze unreadable for a beat before he leaned back in his chair, that familiar smirk playing at his lips again. "I told you, I have my ways."

But beneath the teasing, there was something more in his expression—something that made your heart skip a beat. You didn’t need words to know that he had noticed you in a way others hadn’t, that he saw the little things, the cracks in your armor.

As you finished the meal, the exhaustion you’d carried all day seemed to lift, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the pho. Sylus’s presence, for all his cryptic remarks and unreadable expressions, made you feel... cared for.

Noticing your lingering gaze, Sylus leaned back, crossing his arms with a satisfied smirk. “I do have my moments of brilliance.”

“More like rare moments,” you teased, a playful spark lighting your eyes.

He chuckled, the sound rich and genuine. “I’ll take that as a compliment, kitten. Now, how about we make a habit of this? You can complain about your hectic days, and I’ll bring the pho.”

The warmth between you deepened, the air thick with unspoken feelings and a comforting ease that felt like home. You smiled, savoring not just the delicious meal but the presence of the man beside you. “Deal.”

RAFAYEL

The day had been an absolute disaster. From the moment you woke up, everything felt like it was falling apart—meetings running late, a mountain of reports piling up, and to top it all off, your bike was in the shop for repairs. Taking the train had been a nightmare, delays at every station and a sea of people crammed together. You had been venting to Rafayel all day, pouring out your frustration in messages about the chaos and exhaustion of adulthood. He responded with his usual playful sarcasm, offering snarky comments that somehow managed to make you smile, even on a day like this.

Why does everything have to be so hard? you thought as you finally stepped off the train and made your way out of the station. As you finally exited the station, the cool evening air greeted you, a temporary reprieve from the stifling atmosphere of the train. Just as you were about to lose yourself in another mental rant about your never-ending to-do list, a familiar voice broke through your thoughts.

“Hey, Miss Bodyguard,” Rafayel's teasing voice cut through the air, his tone playful as always. You looked up, startled but undeniably pleased to see him leaning casually against a nearby wall, a smirk on his lips.

“You stalking me now?” you asked, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite your exhaustion.

He shrugged, falling into step beside you as you began the walk home. “I wouldn’t call it stalking, especially when you keep giving me live updates about your day. ” he said with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with that mischievous glint you’d come to know so well. “You’ve been complaining about your day since noon. Thought I'd check if you survived.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. "Barely. The train was a nightmare, I’m behind on reports, and now I still have to cook dinner. This day won’t end.”

As the two of you walked, you found yourself venting aloud, unloading all the frustrations of the day onto him. Rafayel listened, his gaze soft yet amused, occasionally tossing in a remark or two that made you laugh despite yourself. He had this way of making even the worst days feel lighter. Once you reached home, you plopped on the couch, continuing your tirade on the pointless meetings instead of actually fighting wanderers.  “Seriously, how does anyone manage all this without completely losing it?” you groaned. “Work, reports, cooking, laundry—it’s never-ending! And now I’ve that I am home, I have to make dinner, and tackle those stupid reports…”

Just as you were about to complain more about your overwhelming workload, the doorbell rang.

"Who's that?" you muttered, confused.

Before you could get up, Rafayel waved a hand dismissively. “I got it. Stay where you are."

You gave him a suspicious look, knowing how he could be, but you let him go anyway. He strolled to the door with that infuriating confidence of his, moving like he owned the place.

A minute later, he returned with a package in hand, his expression smug.

“What did you order?” you asked, still perplexed.

He raised an eyebrow. “Who said it was your package?”

Your confusion deepened, but before you could question him further, Rafayel placed the box on the counter and opened it, revealing two neatly packed containers of chicken alfredo. Your jaw dropped as you stared at the food, your tired brain trying to make sense of what was happening.

“You…” you began, words failing you.

Rafayel glanced over his shoulder, catching your stunned expression with an amused grin. “What? You think I didn’t hear you complaining about adulting all day?”

Without waiting for a response, he plated the pasta, his movements surprisingly smooth and graceful as he brought two steaming plates to the table. He set one in front of you, then sat down across from you, his smirk softening just a fraction. “Figured I’d save you the trouble. You’ve been whining about it so much that even the turtles have heard it all the way across the ocean.”

You stared at the plate in disbelief. His company had already started to ease the tension in your shoulders, but this? This gesture—so thoughtful, so uncharacteristically sweet—had your heart fluttering.

“Raf…” you began, but he waved a hand, dismissing your attempt at gratitude.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me,” he quipped, though the hint of tenderness in his eyes betrayed him. “I needed to eat too, you know! And who knew how long it would take for you to whip something up? Just eat...”

You couldn’t help but laugh, warmth filling your chest as you took a bite of the creamy pasta. The taste was perfect—rich, comforting, exactly what you needed after a day like this. And though he was trying to act like it was no big deal, you could tell this was his way of looking out for you.

“Thanks,” you said softly, catching his gaze.

Rafayel leaned back in his chair, the smirk returning full force. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t get used to it.”

But you could tell—despite the teasing, despite the banter—that he was glad he could make your day a little better. Maybe adulting wasn’t so bad when you had Rafayel by your side…

ZAYNE

As Zayne finished his usual check-up on you, his hands gentle but firm as they performed the routine exam, you couldn’t help but let out a long, tired sigh. It had been a day. Patrolling the city, fighting off wanderers, and then filing reports had left you drained, and the thought of having to go home and make dinner was the last thing you wanted to deal with.

Zayne noticed immediately, his sharp eyes studying you with that calm, steady gaze of his. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone soft but laced with the kind of precision that came naturally to him as a doctor.

You shook your head, brushing it off. “Nothing serious. Just... thinking about my day.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but even you could feel how thin it was. “ But it is over now, so that is something to think about, hehe.. ”

He didn’t press you, which you were grateful for. Zayne had always been like that—understanding, patient, and perceptive. Even when you didn’t tell him how you were feeling, he always seemed to just know.

As you gathered your things and prepared to head out, Zayne cleared his throat. “My shift’s over. How about I drop you off at home?”

Surprised, you turned to face him, and for a moment, you considered saying no, but the truth was—it had been a while since you and Zayne had spent any time together outside of these clinical settings. You nodded, grateful for the company. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The drive was peaceful, the hum of the car and the cool night air lulling you into a more relaxed state. Zayne wasn’t one for unnecessary chatter, which you appreciated. His presence alone was enough to take the edge off your exhaustion.

Without warning, he slowed the car and pulled into the parking lot of a familiar spot—your favorite hot pot restaurant. You blinked, confused but intrigued.

“Hot pot?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Zayne gave a small, knowing smile. “It’ll save us both from having to cook,” he explained, always the practical one. “And on nights like these, something warm and hearty is good for the body. Better circulation, helps relax the muscles after a long day. Plus, it’s my treat since I dragged you here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at how effortlessly he slipped into his medical reasoning, but more than that, you felt your heart warm at the gesture. You hadn’t even vented to him about how drained you were, yet somehow, Zayne had picked up on it and brought you exactly where you needed to be. It was almost too perfect. That was just how he was—quietly thoughtful, always tuned in to what would make your day a little better.

“That’s pretty thoughtful of you,” you said, unable to hide the warmth in your tone. “I could definitely use some hot pot. You know me too well.” You eagerly unbuckled your seatbelt and got out of the car.

“I do,” he replied, his smile soft yet confident as the two of you walked into the cozy restaurant. The warmth of the place immediately surrounded you, and it felt like the perfect escape from the long, tiring day.

As you settled into a booth, you couldn’t help but think how lucky you were to have Zayne in your life—someone who understood you without needing you to explain everything. As the two of you were seated inside, ordering your favorite dishes and letting the rich, fragrant broth bubble between you, the conversation flowed easily. Zayne’s calm demeanor was a balm to your tired mind, and his subtle teasing made you laugh more than once.

As the hot pot simmered in front of you, Zayne casually brought up another idea. “There’s a cake shop close to your place. I was thinking we could swing by after. I’ve been meaning to get something sweet.” His love for desserts was well known, and you could already picture the way his eyes would light up at the prospect of picking out his favorite cake.

The suggestion made you smile wider than you had all day. “I’d love that.”

There was something unspoken lingering between you. But in moments like these, with Zayne looking at you with that easy smile and making your long day just a little bit brighter, you could feel it. And you were more than happy to bask in it, even if just for tonight. As you walked out of the restaurant side by side, the chill in the air wasn’t so bad anymore.

XAVIER

You collapsed onto the couch with a long, tired groan, your face buried in a pillow. The mission had been grueling, and now that you were back home, a mountain of chores awaited you—dinner to make, the house to clean, bills to pay. It felt like there was no end in sight, like you couldn’t catch a single break.

For a moment, you let yourself wallow in the exhaustion, silently trying to gather enough mental energy to tackle everything. Maybe if you just lay here long enough, the universe would cut you some slack.

Ding-dong.

The doorbell rang, cutting through your thoughts. You blinked, sitting up slowly. Who could that be right now?

Dragging yourself to the door, you opened it, and standing there was Xavier, his usual easygoing smile softening the weariness that had taken hold of you.

“Hey, mind if I come in?” he asked, his voice low and gentle. You didn’t even need to reply because he lifted his hand, showing you a takeout bag. The familiar logo of your favorite burger joint was printed on it.

Your heart did a little flip, the tension from the day starting to melt away. “Xavier...”

“I figured you had a long day,” he said, stepping inside once you nodded, his tone casual but warm. “Heard from the others that it was pretty rough. And while I can’t promise anything gourmet, I figured burgers, fries, and churros were safe bets. Oh, and drinks too. No cooking necessary.”

The way he effortlessly made you feel seen without even needing to ask, it was just so him. He had this way of knowing exactly what you needed without making a big deal out of it, like he was always quietly observing, thinking of ways to help without making a fuss.

“Thank you,” you murmured, genuinely touched. “This is exactly what I needed.”

As you led him into the living room, Xavier wasted no time setting up the food on your coffee table, all casual like he’d done this a hundred times before. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as he passed you a drink and a burger. It was so thoughtful, so simple yet perfect.

While you ate, the tension from earlier spilled out. “I’ve got so much to do still,” you admitted, venting to him between bites. “The house is a mess, I have to pay the bills, and the trash is piling up. I just... I don’t even know where to start.”

Xavier leaned back against the couch, his eyes focused on you but in that soft, reassuring way he always had. “Why not start tomorrow?” he suggested, his tone light but confident, as if the solution was obvious. “I’ll take the trash out when I leave. The rest? You can handle it later. No point in burning yourself out tonight.”

He stretched an arm casually over the back of the couch, settling in with that relaxed vibe he always carried, but there was a quiet depth in his words. He wasn’t one for grand gestures or dramatic speeches, but in his own way, he was telling you to take it easy, that he had your back.

“Besides,” he added, his lips quirking into a small grin, “I was thinking we could watch a movie. You know, unwind. You’ve earned it.”

You looked at him for a moment, feeling the weight of your day easing with every word. He didn’t push, didn’t force you to agree, but the offer was so tempting. With the food, the company, and the way he was so effortlessly making everything better, it felt like a much-needed lifeline.

“That sounds like a good idea,” you said, smiling softly as you leaned back beside him, the stress of your responsibilities finally taking a back seat. You let out a sigh of relief, knowing deep down you’d end up thanking him for this later.

The unspoken connection between you both lingered in the air, not something you needed to say out loud. It was there, in the way he knew just what you needed, in the comfortable silence that followed as the movie started. You didn’t need words to acknowledge it. It was simply... understood.

And as Xavier settled in next to you, you realized that tonight, the chores could wait. Right now, this was enough.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[mintyys-blog]

UNDRESSED 5 — mark variants x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: fighting

Y/N hummed softly as she worked in the kitchen, rolling out the cookie dough with practiced ease. Baking had always been something that helped calm her mind—a little bit of normalcy in a house filled with chaos and violent superpowered versions of her ex-boyfriend. She carefully scooped out portions of dough, placing them on the baking sheet.

But something was off.

She frowned, glancing at the dough. Hadn’t she just scooped more than that? Shaking her head, she went back to work—only to notice, again, that the dough seemed to be… decreasing.

She narrowed her eyes. Someone was stealing it.

Pausing, she set the spoon down and slowly scanned the kitchen. She waited, watching, pretending to be distracted. Then—movement. A flash of black and blue in the corner of her eye.

Gotcha.

“I know it’s you—stop stealing my batter!” she accused, spinning around and pointing a flour-dusted finger at the culprit. Mohawk Mark stood a few feet away, a guilty smirk on his face, arms raised in mock surrender. “Fine, you caught me,” he admitted, his mouth still half-full of raw cookie dough.

Y/N huffed, grabbing a kitchen towel and snapping it at him. It landed against his arm with a soft thwap.

“At least let me bake them first!” she scolded, glaring at him.

Mohawk Mark just grinned, completely unfazed. “Well, you know I prefer it raw. And you do too, right, babe?” His smirk widened as he wiggled his brows at her suggestively. She rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw the back of her skull. “Shut up! And stop stealing my dough!”

He chuckled, completely unrepentant as he took another handful and stuffed it into his mouth before retreating toward the living room. Y/N groaned, exasperated. “I swear—”

“Love you too, sweetheart!” he called back over his shoulder, laughing as he disappeared around the corner. Y/N sighed, shaking her head as she looked at the remaining dough. She’d have to make more at this rate. Living with them was going to be the death of her.

Y/N sighed, shaking her head as she got back to work. She knew Mohawk Mark wasn’t the only one she had to worry about. If he was stealing dough, it wouldn’t be long before the others caught wind of what she was doing and came sniffing around.

She managed to get the first batch into the oven without further interference, but as soon as she turned around, she saw another culprit eyeing her workspace.

Full Mask Mark.

He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, head tilted slightly as he stared at the remaining cookie dough like it was his next meal.

“No,” she said immediately, pointing at him with her spoon. He didn’t say a word. Just looked at her. “No,” she repeated firmly. “Don’t even think about it.” Still, he said nothing. But he stepped forward. “Mark, I swear—”

The second she turned her back, he moved faster than she could react, swiping a lump of dough right off the tray.

“You son of a—!” She spun around, grabbing the towel she’d used on Mohawk Mark and snapping it at him. He caught it mid-air with ease. She scowled as he took a slow, exaggerated bite of the stolen dough. “Technically,” he mused through his mask, “you didn’t say I couldn’t take any. You just said ‘No.’”

Her eye twitched. “That means don’t take any!” He shrugged, still chewing. “Maybe you should be more specific next time.” Y/N groaned, rubbing her temples. “I hate you.”

Full Mask Mark leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “No, you don’t.” Before she could throw something at him, he stepped back and disappeared just as quickly as he arrived, leaving her standing there, fuming.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath. Just as she turned back to the oven, she heard a new voice. “Smells good.” She jumped, placing a hand over her chest as she turned to see Viltrumite Mark now leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with amusement.

“I swear to God,” she breathed, “if you’re here to steal dough too, I’m leaving.” He smirked. “Nah. I’ll wait until they’re baked.”

“Oh, how kind of you.” She turned back to check on the cookies, rolling her eyes. Living in a house full of these guys was exhausting. But, at the same time… she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this alive.

Just as Y/N was pulling the first batch of cookies out of the oven, another presence made itself known.

Sinister Mark.

He entered the kitchen like a shadow, silent but predatory, drawn in by the scent of fresh-baked cookies. His sharp eyes flicked over to the tray cooling on the counter, his expression unreadable.

“Oh, you’re baking again?” he mused, stepping closer.

Y/N had no time to react before he casually plucked a cookie from the tray and popped it into his mouth.

“Wait—”

Too late.

He stopped mid-chew, his entire body tensing for a split second. His jaw clenched, and for once, he seemed at a loss for words. Y/N winced. Yep. That’s gotta burn.

He stood still, staring at her, clearly unwilling to admit his mistake. After a long moment, he finally swallowed, his throat working as he forced the molten cookie down. “Good,” he said evenly, his voice slightly strained. “But very hot.”

She tried—really tried—not to laugh. But a small giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it. “I told you to wait before eating them!” He scowled slightly but didn’t reply. Instead, he grabbed another cookie, this time blowing on it first before taking a bite.

Y/N shook her head, amused. “You act all menacing, but you’re just a big dumbass, huh?” Sinister Mark raised a brow. “Do you want me to prove you wrong?” Her smile faltered slightly, but before she could answer, another voice cut in.

“Alright, that’s enough flirting,” Mohawk Mark drawled from the doorway, smirking. “Save some cookies for the rest of us, Mark.” Sinister Mark’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he reached for another cookie and made a slow, deliberate show of eating it while staring Mohawk Mark down.

Mohawk scoffed. “Oh, real mature.” Y/N sighed, already sensing the beginning of yet another fight. She grabbed a spatula and smacked both of them lightly on the arms.

“Cut it out,” she warned. “There’s enough for everyone—if you can behave.”

The two Marks glared at each other for a long moment before Sinister finally turned away with a small smirk, grabbing one more cookie just to spite Mohawk Mark before leaving the kitchen. Mohawk Mark huffed, crossing his arms. “Why does he get special treatment?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Because he almost burned his mouth off, so that was punishment enough.”

Mohawk snickered. “Yeah, that was pretty funny.” Y/N sighed, shaking her head as she started preparing another batch. One house. Eight variants. And a lot of cookies. She was going to need more flour.

Y/N had just finished setting up the next batch of cookies when another presence entered the kitchen.

Maskless Mark.

He was quieter than the others, his expression unreadable as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. Unlike Mohawk or Sinister Mark, he didn’t immediately reach for a cookie. Instead, he just watched her.

Y/N raised a brow. “You gonna steal dough again, or just stare?”

He blinked, then shook his head. “Just… watching.” She sighed, turning back to her baking. “You guys are like vultures. I swear, I can’t do anything in peace.”

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he walked over to the cooling tray, picked up a cookie, and inspected it for a moment. Then, with a small nod, he took a bite. Y/N waited for some kind of reaction. Nothing. Just quiet chewing. She huffed. “Well?” He swallowed. “Good.”

“…That’s it?”

He looked at her, something unreadable in his expression. “Yeah.” She sighed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.” The tension in the room shifted when another voice interrupted.

“You really need to start locking the kitchen door.” Y/N groaned as she turned to see Omni Mark entering, his usual smug smirk in place. “You again?” she deadpanned.

“What can I say? You make the best cookies,” he said, shamelessly snatching two from the tray. Y/N was about to scold him, but before she could, a blur of motion came from behind, and the cookies were suddenly gone.

Omni Mark blinked. “What the—” Mohawk Mark smirked, chewing loudly as he held up the stolen cookies. “Too slow.”

Omni Mark’s eye twitched. “You little—” Y/N saw where this was going and immediately stepped between them. “No. I just cleaned this kitchen, and if you two start fighting, I will kick you both out.”

Omni Mark scowled but backed off, while Mohawk Mark simply grinned, clearly enjoying himself. She exhaled in relief—until she noticed a new problem. Prisoner Mark was standing near the stove, arms crossed, staring at the last few cookies. “…What are you doing?” Y/N asked, suddenly wary. “Waiting,” he said simply.

“For what?”

“For them to cool down.” Y/N blinked. “You know you can just blow on them, right?” Prisoner Mark shrugged. “Not taking any chances.”

She stifled a laugh. After all this time, the memory of Sinister Mark nearly melting his mouth was still influencing their actions. As she turned back to finish up, she felt a warm presence beside her. Full Mask Mark. Unlike the others, he didn’t reach for a cookie. Instead, he leaned in close, just enough for his voice to brush against her ear.

“You’re cute when you’re bossy,” he murmured. Her face warmed, and she smacked him lightly with a dish towel. “Go away.” He chuckled but obeyed, retreating before the others could notice. Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. She loved baking, but dealing with them? That was an entirely different challenge.

Y/N barely had time to react. One moment, she was dealing with the absolute chaos in the kitchen—Omni Mark and Mohawk Mark nearly throwing hands, Sinister Mark cooling his burned mouth, Prisoner Mark silently waiting for his turn, and Full Mask Mark getting a little too close—the next, she was gone.

Strong arms wrapped around her, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. Before she could even yelp, the wind rushed past her, and the kitchen disappeared in a blur. Then, silence. Y/N blinked as she found herself in a dimly lit room, warm and quiet. The scent of fresh linen filled her nose, and the only sound was the steady breathing of the man who had abducted her. No Mask Mark.

She glared up at him, still in his arms. “Really?” His expression remained unreadable as he gently set her down on a plush bed. “It was getting too loud.” She crossed her arms. “And your solution was kidnapping me?” He nodded, completely serious. Y/N groaned, rubbing her temples. “You’re all insane.”

No Mask Mark just stood there, watching her with that same quiet intensity he always had. He was different from the others—less dramatic, less outwardly possessive, but there was something intense about him that she couldn’t ignore. After a moment, he finally spoke. “You didn’t seem happy.” Y/N blinked. “Huh?”

“In the kitchen.” His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering. “You were overwhelmed.”

She hesitated. She was overwhelmed, but she hadn’t realized it had been that obvious. The others were exhausting—always fighting, always pushing their own agendas. And yet, No Mask Mark had noticed before she even realized it herself. Her arms slowly dropped to her sides. “…So you took me here?”

A small nod. “You needed a break.” Something in her chest tightened. It had been so long since someone had just looked out for her without an ulterior motive. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Instead of speaking, she sighed and flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Well… thanks, I guess.”

She expected him to leave. Instead, she felt the bed dip slightly as he sat on the edge, not touching her, but close enough that she could feel his presence. For once, there was no fighting. No chaos. Just quiet. Y/N turned her head to look at him. “Are you gonna stay?”

His gaze softened just a little. “If you want me to.” She didn’t answer right away. Then, after a beat, she shifted closer, just enough for her fingers to graze his. “…Yeah,” she murmured. “I think I do.”

No Mask Mark kissed her like he knew her—like he had been waiting for this moment for far too long. His lips moved slowly, deliberately, savoring her, making her feel wanted in a way she hadn’t in so long.

Y/N melted into him, fingers curling against his jaw before slipping into his hair. He let out a quiet exhale at the touch, deepening the kiss just slightly, his hands tightening around her waist.

There was no rush, no desperation—just steady, quiet intensity. She shivered when he finally pulled away, just enough to let their foreheads rest together. His breath was warm against her lips, his fingers tracing lazy circles against the small of her back.

“…You didn’t resist,” he murmured, voice low and rough. She swallowed hard, heart pounding in her chest. “Maybe I didn’t want to.” A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. “Good.”

His hand slid up her spine, fingers grazing her bare shoulder. Goosebumps rose along her skin, and she realized how dangerous this was—how easy it was to get lost in him. Because he felt safe. And after everything—after losing everything—she wasn’t sure she could resist that.

Y/N shifted slightly, moving to put just a little space between them. He let her, watching her carefully, his expression unreadable. “…I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. He reached out, his fingers gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s okay.” Her chest tightened. “You’re too calm about this.”

“I told you,” he murmured. “I don’t need to rush. You’ll come to me when you’re ready.” That confidence—it should have been frustrating, maybe even infuriating, but instead, it made her stomach flip.

Because he wasn’t wrong. Y/N bit her lip, staring at him for a long moment. Then, finally, she sighed, flopping back onto the bed and covering her face with her hands. “I hate you.” He chuckled, lying back down beside her. “No, you don’t.”

She groaned into her hands. “Shut up.” His silence was amused. And just like that, the tension melted. Y/N exhaled slowly, peeking at him through her fingers. He was still watching her, but he wasn’t pressing, wasn’t demanding more. He was just waiting. And that, somehow, made her heart ache more than anything.

The door slammed open without warning. Y/N barely had time to process before a loud, irritated voice filled the room. “The hell are you doing?” She jumped slightly, her heart lurching as she quickly sat up. No Mask Mark, however, barely reacted. He just let out a slow exhale, rubbing a hand over his face as if already tired of whatever was about to happen.

Standing in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes burning, was Stripe Mark. He looked pissed. Not surprised. Not confused. Just angry.

Y/N had only a second to take in his tensed muscles, his narrowed eyes flicking between her and No Mask Mark, before—without another word—he reached for the door handle and slammed it shut. Hard. Silence. Y/N blinked. “Uh…” No Mask Mark sighed, rubbing his temple. “Great.”

From outside the room, they could hear heavy footsteps storming down the hall, followed by a loud, frustrated, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Y/N winced.

“…Should we be worried?” she asked. No Mask Mark leaned back against the bed, completely unfazed. “No.” Another distant thud, followed by some incomprehensible but definitely angry ranting.

“…Maybe,” he corrected. Y/N groaned, flopping back down onto the bed. “Great. Just great.” Stripe Mark’s voice echoed again from down the hall, full of disbelief. “Out of everyone, you pick HIM?!” No Mask Mark just smirked.

Stripe Mark’s ranting didn’t stop. As the heavy footsteps retreated down the hall, his voice carried through the house, laced with irritation and absolute offense.

“Unbelievable! Of all the versions of us, she picks the QUIET ONE?” Another loud thud, like he’d punched a wall.

“What, does brooding make you more attractive?! Is that it?!” Y/N groaned, pressing a pillow over her face. “He’s never gonna let this go, is he?”

No Mask Mark smirked, stretching his arms behind his head. “Nope.” More yelling. “I AM RIGHT HERE, YOU KNOW!”

Y/N let out a long sigh, shifting to glare at the door like she could set Stripe Mark on fire with her eyes. “Should we do something?” No Mask Mark tilted his head. “Like what?”

“I dunno, shut him up?” A loud scoff from the hallway. “OH, I’M SORRY, AM I INTERRUPTING YOUR LITTLE LOVEFEST?”

Y/N groaned, rolling onto her stomach. “This is a nightmare.” No Mask Mark chuckled, pushing himself off the bed. “I’ll handle it.”

Y/N watched as he casually strolled to the door, opening it just as Stripe Mark was mid-rant. The two locked eyes. A tense, heavy silence settled between them. Stripe Mark scowled. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you?”

No Mask Mark’s expression was unreadable. “I don’t think about you at all.” Y/N covered her mouth, barely holding back her laughter. Stripe Mark’s eye twitched. “…Oh, that’s it,” he muttered, cracking his knuckles.

Before he could launch himself at No Mask Mark, another voice interrupted—sharp, bored. “Are you two seriously about to fight over this?”

Viltrumite Mark stood in the hallway, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. Stripe Mark turned on him. “YES, BECAUSE APPARENTLY I’M THE CRAZY ONE FOR THINKING THIS IS ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT.”

Viltrumite Mark raised an eyebrow. “You’re always crazy.” Stripe Mark looked absolutely offended. “EXCUSE ME?”

No Mask Mark just sighed, rubbing his temple. “This is stupid.” Y/N sat up, crossing her arms. “Agreed.”

Stripe Mark pointed at her. “YOU’RE the reason this is happening!” Y/N sighed. “Hey— you forced me to live with you guys, what did you expect?” Viltrumite Mark smirked slightly at that. No Mask Mark just raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

Stripe Mark sputtered. “I—you—THAT’S NOT—” He groaned, running a hand down his face before letting out a heavy sigh. “You know what? Fine. Whatever.”

He turned sharply on his heel, grumbling as he stormed away. “…He’ll get over it,” Viltrumite Mark muttered. Y/N let out a long breath. “I doubt it.”

No Mask Mark just smirked, shutting the door. “Let him be mad.” Y/N stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head with a laugh. “Well,” she muttered, collapsing back onto the bed. “That was something.”

The next day was quiet, the kind of quiet that could feel either peaceful or maddening depending on your mood. For Y/N, it was a thin line between the two. She needed something—anything—to keep her hands busy, to keep her mind from drifting into thoughts of what once was and what could never be again.

She crouched in the soft soil of the garden, the morning sun warm on her back. Her hands were covered in dirt as she pulled out stubborn weeds tangled between the delicate stems of her flowers. Vibrant reds, soft lilacs, and golden marigolds swayed with the breeze, standing proud against the chaos of her current life. The garden was her escape. Her little sanctuary. She let out a low grumble as another thick root refused to come out. “You’re ruining everything, you little pests,” she muttered, tugging harder until it snapped free.

Breathing heavily, she sat back on her heels, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Dirt streaked her cheek, but she didn’t care. She admired her work with a quiet satisfaction. For once, something was growing instead of falling apart. That’s when she heard the familiar sound of heavy footsteps behind her, a weight in the grass that matched a certain presence she’d come to recognize.

“I see you’re enjoying the garden,” a deep voice said. She turned and looked up to see him—Stripe Mark. Towering, broad-shouldered, and always intense. Today was no different, though something about his tone was… less abrasive. Not soft, never soft—but gentler, in his own way.

She offered him a small smile. “Thanks for making it for me,” she said sincerely. “It’s funny—I only mentioned it once, and you built it right away.” He nodded once, arms crossing as he glanced at the flowers. “What else was I supposed to do?”

She let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “You could’ve ignored me. Most of you do that. Hear things, pretend you didn’t.” Stripe Mark let out a sharp exhale, part scoff, part something else. “I’m not like the rest of them.” She arched a brow, amused. “You say that, but you yell at everyone who breathes too loud.”

“Tch.” He crouched beside her, ripping out a weed with unnecessary force. “Maybe yelling’s just easier than saying what I actually feel.”

Her fingers paused in the dirt, eyes flicking to his profile. She didn’t expect that. Not from him. “You’re… actually admitting that?” He didn’t look at her. His jaw clenched for a moment before he muttered, “You looked like you were about to break that day. I’ve seen that look before.” There was a weight to his voice, something haunted and restrained. She stared at him, heart softening. “It doesn’t end well when no one does anything,” he added quietly.

Silence stretched between them again, but this time, it was thick with unspoken understanding. She studied him, noticing how he was trying—maybe not in the way others would, but it was real. He hadn’t needed to build her a garden. He hadn’t needed to care. But he had. “I like it,” she said gently. “The garden. It helps. Gives me something that’s mine.”

He nodded, eyes still trained on the flowers, though he stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye. “Good. Don’t let it die.” She smiled, then leaned closer and wiped a streak of dirt off his cheek. “You’ve got some soil on you, big guy.” He grunted, mildly flustered, and turned his head away slightly. “Whatever.” Without thinking too much, she leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. His body went completely rigid. Like a statue carved from stone.

“I won’t,” she whispered after a beat. “Let it die.” His voice came quieter than usual, rough and uncertain. “…Good.” She looked back to her flowers, the sun rising a little higher in the sky, and for the first time in a while, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she’d bloom again too.

She stayed there for a while, fingers lightly brushing over the petals of a blooming daisy, basking in the warmth of the morning and the quiet companionship beside her. Stripe Mark hadn’t moved much since her kiss, still crouched stiffly with his arms on his knees, staring out at the garden like it held all the answers to the universe. He finally spoke again, voice lower this time, thoughtful. “You ever think about just… leaving?” Her brow furrowed. “You mean… running away?”

“No. Not running.” He looked at her now, eyes sharp but not unkind. “Just… going somewhere else. Somewhere we could actually breathe.”

She blinked at him. “We?” He paused for a second too long. “You. If you wanted, I mean. You deserve peace. You’re not made for war or chaos. Not like us.” She let out a bitter little laugh. “I don’t think I have a ‘peace’ anymore. It kind of died with the old version of my life.”

“Then maybe it’s time you started building a new one.” He stood up, towering over her in the sunlight, shadow falling over her. “You’re good at that. Making things grow.”

She stared up at him, stunned by the softness hiding behind his hardened edges. “I know I yell. I act like I’m better than the others. Maybe I even believe it,” he admitted. “But… I notice things. Like the way you smile less when someone mentions him.. Or how you touch the soil like it’s the only place you feel safe.”

Her lips parted but no words came. He turned slightly, jaw tightening. “If any of them make you feel weak, they’re wrong. You’re stronger than all of us.” With that, he started to walk away, back toward the house. “Mark—” she called out. He stopped mid-step, glancing back over his shoulder. “Thanks. For the garden. And for seeing me.” Something flickered in his gaze, something that looked a little like hope. “Don’t make me regret it,” he said, and then he disappeared through the trees, leaving her surrounded by flowers and the quiet thrum of something beginning to bloom—inside her this time. And for once, she didn’t feel like she was barely surviving.

She dusted off her knees, brushing a few stubborn flecks of dirt from her clothes, and finally stood. The sun was beginning its slow descent behind the trees, casting long, golden shadows over the freshly tended garden. A few flowers swayed in the breeze as if nodding in approval. She gave them a fond look before turning toward the house.

The wooden backdoor creaked softly as she stepped inside, the cool air greeting her after hours in the sun. She sighed, stretching her arms over her head as she padded toward the kitchen, intending to wash her hands before settling down with a book or maybe some tea. But as she turned the corner, she bumped into someone solid—unmoving, like a wall of muscle and presence. She stumbled slightly.

“Woah—sorry, I didn’t see—” she looked up and met the familiar, unreadable face of Full Mask Mark.

“Gardening again?” His voice was calm, a little amused, but tinged with that deep smoothness she had come to recognize as his default tone. She nodded, a little breathless, stepping back slightly to give herself space. “Yeah,” she said. “It keeps me sane.”

He tilted his head, his masked gaze scanning her face. “I can tell. You’ve got a bit of dirt on your cheek.”

Before she could respond, he reached out with gloved fingers and gently wiped it off. His hand was careful, slow, and lingered just a second longer than it needed to. She didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, her breath caught a little at the tenderness of the gesture. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice softer now, nearly swallowed by the quiet around them.

He stepped back, hands lowering to his sides. “Anytime,” he said, before pausing. “You look… more relaxed out there. Happier.” She glanced down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe. I think the flowers listen better than you guys.”

He huffed a short laugh. “That wouldn’t surprise me.” She gave a small smile and turned toward the kitchen sink to wash her hands, but before she could go far, he spoke again.

“If you ever need company out there… I wouldn’t mind watching you work.” She turned slightly, surprised. “You? Watching someone garden?”

He shrugged, his mask hiding any expression but his tone was sincere. “Watching you. That’s different.” Her heart skipped slightly, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Then she nodded, almost shyly. “Maybe next time.”

He dipped his head, a silent acknowledgment, before heading down the hallway and leaving her to the quiet hum of her thoughts and the gentle flutter of something unnamed in her chest.

The faucet hissed softly as she scrubbed the dirt from her hands, warm water swirling down the drain. Her thoughts still lingered on Full Mask Mark’s unexpected gentleness, the way his gloved fingers brushed her cheek, and the strange flutter it left in her chest.

She dried her hands with a towel and stepped out of the kitchen, heading toward the main hallway—only to nearly collide with another broad frame.

Sinister Mark.

He didn’t move right away, towering over her with his arms crossed, crimson eyes sharp beneath his messy, disheveled hair. His expression was unreadable—like always—but his eyes always gave him away. And right now, they looked…curious. Watching her, as if trying to solve a puzzle only he was allowed to touch.

“Didn’t peg you for the gardening type,” he said at last, his voice gravelly and dark with that ever-present undercurrent of amusement. “Thought you’d be more into setting things on fire.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the soft smile tugging at her lips. “Funny. That’s more your style.”

He chuckled under his breath and stepped aside so she could pass. “So what’s the deal? You trying to be normal again?” he asked, following beside her, his tone lighter than usual—teasing, but not cruel.

She shrugged. “It helps. Gives me something to care about that isn’t…”

She trailed off.

“Us?” he offered bluntly.

She didn’t answer, not immediately. But he caught the shift in her eyes, the way her lips pressed into a thin line. “Didn’t mean that as a bad thing,” he said, voice dropping into something quieter, more serious. “I get it. You need peace. We’re not exactly the poster boys for that.”

“No,” she said quietly, stopping in the hallway. “You’re not.” For a moment, the silence between them grew heavy. And then Sinister stepped closer—close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him. He reached up, slowly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, fingers hovering just a second longer than needed.

“But if you ever need something not peaceful,” he murmured, voice a low purr in her ear, “you know I’ll be there.” Her breath caught. There was danger in his gaze, yes—but also something more. Possessiveness. A twisted, broken affection that was still somehow real. “I know,” she whispered.

He stepped back, letting the moment fade before it consumed them both. “Good. Just don’t forget it.” And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her heart thudding a little faster in his wake.

She stood there for a moment longer, watching his back as he disappeared down the hallway. That strange, hollow flutter in her chest remained, twisting uncomfortably with thoughts she didn’t want to name. Sinister Mark wasn’t soft. He wasn’t kind. But sometimes—just sometimes—he said things that made her feel seen in a way no one else could. And that was dangerous.

She shook the feeling off and turned to head back toward her room. The house was quiet now, the kind of silence that settled after all the chaos had exhausted itself. It was almost peaceful—until the floor creaked again. She turned sharply, half-expecting another Mark variant to be watching her from the shadows, but no one was there. Still, her senses prickled with the awareness that she wasn’t alone.

Not for long. Later that night, she found herself curled up on the couch with a book—something mundane, something grounding. She was halfway through the second chapter when she felt it again: a presence, a weight settling behind her. She didn’t need to turn around.

“You’re back already?” she asked softly.

Sinister Mark’s voice rumbled low behind her, closer than she expected. “Didn’t really leave.” He leaned on the back of the couch, watching her read over her shoulder. She could feel his breath near her neck, and her fingers tightened slightly around the pages. “You don’t sleep, do you?” she asked, still not looking at him.

“Sleep’s overrated,” he muttered. “Besides, it’s quieter at night. Less of them… more of you.” She turned her head slowly, eyes meeting his. “What do you mean ‘more of me’?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “You let your guard down at night. You’re softer. Sadder. Honest.” The words sank deep, uncomfortably true. She hated that he noticed. Hated that she didn’t deny it. And maybe he saw that, because Sinister tilted his head, his expression darker than before, but not cruel. “You deserve better than what he did to you,” he said lowly. “Leaving you? Choosing her over you? Idiotic.”

Her breath hitched. He moved around the couch, sitting beside her now, close but not touching. “And I don’t care if you hate me or fear me, or if you never say it out loud,” he added. “But I’d burn worlds before I ever abandoned you.” It was twisted. It was wrong. But it was real.

She didn’t look away because—deep down, in the quiet ache of her chest—those words struck something buried. Something raw. Something she tried every day to ignore. And here he was, dragging it into the open without shame.

“You don’t mean that,” she whispered, voice trembling. “You say things like that because you’re obsessed. It’s not the same.”

Sinister Mark leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor, his voice low, controlled… but simmering with intensity. “Obsession and love aren’t always separate things. Especially for people like me.”

She shifted uncomfortably, her book forgotten on her lap. “That’s not healthy.”

He looked up then, slowly turning his head toward her. “You think I’m healthy?” His smile was a cruel curve, sharp at the edges. “I’m not. None of us are. But even broken things know when something is worth protecting.”

She swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. The way he looked at her—it wasn’t just twisted desire or territorial madness. There was something deeply haunted in his expression. Like whatever version of her he had in his universe had been taken, and this one—her—was a second chance he refused to lose.

She should’ve been afraid. Maybe a part of her was.

But a louder part—the part that still cried at night when no one was around, the part that still felt the sting of abandonment every time she closed her eyes—clung to his words.

Sinister Mark reached out and gently—surprisingly—tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was soft, almost reverent.

“You’re not disposable, Y/N. Not to me. You never were.”

The way he said her name was so different from how Main Mark used to say it. Like a promise. Like a vow.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked, voice cracking with emotion. “You don’t even know me.”

His jaw clenched. “I lost my version of you. I didn’t save her. I failed. But this time, I won’t. This time, I’ll make sure you know exactly how much you matter.”

And then, he stood, slowly—his gaze never leaving hers.

“I’ll give you space,” he said after a moment. “But just know… I’m not going anywhere.”

With that, he walked off into the shadows again, leaving her alone on the couch, heart racing, chest tight, and that raw, terrifying thought echoing in her mind: He meant every word.

comment if you wanna be added to the tag list

@starlightt180

[princessbrunette]

people often ask if rafe is ever nice to puppy!reader. of course he is. he just has to be in the right mood.

it wasn’t any kind of behaviour from you that he wasn’t expecting — you were a pogue for gods sake, and one that acted like a stray dog at best — so when you come running into tanny hill after falling out a nearby tree with a bloody hand, rafe is far from surprised.

“the hell did you do now?” he drawls, instantly lifting you under the arms and walking you like that to the kitchen sink as you sob. it had scared you more than anything, and he could tell straight off looking at it that it wasn’t broken or sprained — just all bloody which made it look a lot worse than it was. rafe had his fair share of accidents growing up, especially getting into fights with guys from your side of the island, so he was used to patching up his own hands and wrists.

he places you infront of the tap, listening to your whines and sniffles as you run your hand under the cold water, watching the red slowly wash away as rafe rummages in the drawers for the first aid kit, exasperatedly opening it up on the kitchen counter. he dabs at your hand with a paper towel, drying it off before rustling around the kit.

“the fuck were you thinking, huh? could have knocked yourself out. maybe that would teach you.” he lectures, but he’s not particularly in the worst mood so there’s no real threat behind it. “keep your hand still, alright?” he mutters, quietly in concentration as he begins to wrap it with a bandage.

but the tears keep coming, so unlike your usual happy silly ways. once you’re all bandaged he lets you snuggle against him there in the kitchen, getting tears and snot all over his polo as he sighs, shaking his head and rubbing your back. when you don’t stop crying, really working yourself into a state he feels he has no choice but to lift you, letting you wrap your legs around his waist and burrow into his shoulder.

“alright— okay, it’s over, it’s done kid— just quit crying. you’re fine.” he bounces you anyway and you calm slightly, feeling better now that he was holding you. he was coming to learn that sometimes that was all you needed and a little bit of kindness and warmth went a long way with him. he told himself he’d work on it because it did not come too naturally.

he’s not sure what else to do in terms of physical comfort, so he does what he knows best and snakes his hand under your denim skirt over your ass where he’s holding you. you quiet down a little more, permitting him, drooling and chewing on the collar of his polo.

“yeah… that better?” he asks once he starts rubbing you over your panties and you let out a loud shaky breath, nodding against him. “m’talkin’ to you kid, speak.”

“yes feels b’tter…” you hiccup and he deflates a little, relaxing into it there and then in the tanny hill kitchen as he continues stroking you, listening to your breathing calm.

soon, he’s fucking your clit with his thumb, knuckles deep with your legs still pinned around his waist, voice cracking and breaking into his shoulder. you let out a particularly loud sob and he tsks.

“hey, don’t start this shit again on me alright? just take it… thats right.” he manages to bounce you a little, forcing his fingers deeper and you go limp, body weight dropping against him even more. “uh-huh. got what you need, don’t i?” he mutters as you groan, unable to speak.

say what you want about rafe, but he’d always help you out when you need it.

[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part six

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x reader | WC: 4.2k | warnings: general angst, mentions of dizziness and nausea

Summary: you wake up only to find out you were unconscious much longer than anticipated, leading to multiple needed confrontations

Author’s note: I’ve been a bit MIA lately 😅 just throwing this out in the void before going through my dms/inbox. I’m soooo excited for the next part

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You didn’t need to open your eyes to know how bad your head hurt. It felt impossibly heavy, practically glued to the pillow beneath you. You weren’t entirely sure your neck could hold up its weight anymore. You groaned, not really certain where you were. You combed through the last things you remembered, all of it a blur of blood and exhaustion, none of it clear.

“Do you want to tell me what’s been going on with you?”

A low female voice greeted you, receiving only a grunt in response. Thinking was hard and it only caused the throbbing in your head to worsen. You weren’t entirely sure who was talking to you or why, but you focused all of your energy trying to remember what happened.

All you could remember was blood and pain, a tiredness that you carried in your bones. There was arguing and arrows and Eris. Slowly more and more came back to you until you sat up, wincing at the sudden change, nearly nauseous from the movement.

“Azriel? How’s Azriel?” Your eyes cracked open to find your room around you, albeit slightly cleaner than when you had left it. The still room was a sharp contrast to how you felt inside. Nesta was sitting in a chair next to your bed, a book in her lap, a finger marking her place in it.

She didn’t look happy to see you, nor did she seem to care that you were awake.

“He’ll be fine, thanks to you it would seem.”

You groaned, falling back onto the bed. The suddenness was something you had not learned from when sitting up. Now the room was slightly spinning before you shut your eyes tight, hoping for some reprieve. You rubbed your eyes harshly until you saw stars.

“It would also seem like you almost burnt out saving him.”

Burnt out.

It was something they warned all healers, magic or not. There is a breaking point. A point of no return. It’s happened to many healers over the centuries, especially during times of war, when they don’t quite know their own limits.

Something all healers learn is the whereabouts of their magical limitations, where they need to stop before doing serious damage to themselves. All healers were taught not to place someone else’s life above your own. It’s drilled into your heads, one of the first rules of practicing the healing arts.

But you had done it. You had placed Azriel’s life above your own without even a second thought.

The pained look that was on Eris’s face was enough to keep you from crumbling from that realization.

For hours, you placed Azriel’s healing above yourself. You made the choice over and over again, choosing him over yourself. You made the right call. You would do it again. You could handle a broken bond, but not a dead one.

Maybe this one sided devotion was proof enough you were making the right decision.

“I’m sure you have a better understanding than I do of how stupid and reckless that is, and yet you still did it.” Nesta’s voice wasn’t the happy, soothing voices you usually hear patient’s families spoke with after they wake up. If you heard someone chastising a patient after waking, you’d chew their heads off. Instead, you stayed quiet, just watching Nesta as she continued on.

“For weeks now, I have sat idly by as you spiraled into self-destruction, but I can’t do so anymore.” Her voice cracked with each word, betraying the anger she was trying to inject into each word. “You are my friend, and I care so much about you. I’m worried about you.”

Her concern cracked at your heart. She crumpled into herself, bringing a hand up to her mouth. She looked uncomfortable, like her body had been glued to the chair and was finally unfolding itself from strange positions to find comfort.

“I’m fine, Nesta.” You were groggy, nauseous, and a bit heartbroken, but you’d be fine. Azriel was alive, you were going to be mateless, but you’d be fine.

Her eyebrows pinched together, a look of annoyance crossing over her features. You weren’t sure if it was over your words or interrupting her.

“I haven’t been there for you as I should. I thought you needed space, and now you’re here.” She spat out the last word, but you knew she wasn’t talking about being confined to your room.

“How long was I out?” You had to stop Nesta’s spiraling and get a handle on the situation. Madja wasn’t here to tell you what had happened, but surely you could parse out your state from a few questions Nesta should know the answers to.

“Four days.”

Nesta must be wrong. Surely there was no way you were incapacitated for four whole days. That was ridiculous. But you looked over Nesta, taking in the purple bags beneath her eyes, her hands fisting into the fabric of her wrinkled dress.

She wouldn’t lie about that.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” And you hadn’t. You hadn’t thought of anyone except for Azriel and Eris for several hours, all of your attention on the two males. When you weren’t examining Azriel for his condition, your gaze would end up floating to wherever Eris was.

But now neither of them are here, just you and Nesta.

“You didn’t scare me. I was terrified. I thought you were gone, thought you wouldn’t wake up.”

“Nesta, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Wasn’t that bad?” She repeated your words with a venom that had you recoil, preparing yourself for the strike. “You were wailing in Cassian’s arms in the foyer. You were inconsolable until you passed out. Madja’s been here nearly every hour to check on you.”

Shit. If Madja was making hourly rounds, you were in worse shape than you thought. Hourly rounds meant you must have been practically knocking on death’s door.

“What happened out there? What happened when you were with Azriel and Eris?” Nesta was practically pleading, desperate for some kind of answer. She was like a dog, a scent stuck in her nose until she nosed her way to the truth. You wanted to break, tell her everything.

Until you’re struck by the memory of Eris’s hand, pushing through Azriel’s wings, finding you. How tight his grip was, he warm his skin had been.

“We were ambushed. Azriel took the brunt of it. We healed him and came straight back here.” You absentmindedly rubbed at your wrist

“But you were gone for hours. You should have winnowed back.”

“Eris winnowed us somewhere. He was in bad shape, so I fixed him. How’s Azriel?” You needed to know more about his condition. Nesta said he’d be fine, but did that include any long term effects? How much had your healing helped him?

“He’s resting, but he’ll be fine.” She crossed her arms, her fingers tapping on her arm, not telling you much more than she already had. You were sure this was her punishing you, by leaving you in the dark on Azriel.

“If he wasn’t fine after you nearly killed yourself to save him, I’d resuscitate both of you to kill you myself.” You hadn’t realized you forgot to respond until she chastised you.

“Nesta-“

“You both were gone for hours. It was supposed to be quick. None of us realized until Rhysand couldn’t get through to either of you.”

You blinked, surprised at that. Eris must have had some form of protection put around the cabin that stopped Rhysand.

Interesting.

“And now you’re telling me next to nothing.”

“I just woke up. I can hardly recall it all myself, okay?” A lie. You remembered all of it clearly. The splintering wood, having to carefully remove the arrowheads, all of the blood gushing from him, Eris’s quick remarks.

“Did you fuck him?” The question was quick and unexpected, and you nearly snapped your neck with how quickly you looked at her.

“Who, Eris?” She didn’t move, didn’t give away any slight movement. Still as a statue as yiur heart began beating faster.

“Yes, Eris. You reek of him these days. I won’t tell the others, but I need to know.” His name on her tongue sent a rush through your body, your jaw ticking in annoyance.

“Yes Nesta, I fucked him while Az was bleeding out.” The barb was quick on your tongue, this conversation raising your heckles and irritating you more than anything. Nesta’s eyes hardened for a flash, a mischievous glint in them before she softened ever so slightly, her voice turning from admonishing to conspiratorial in a manner of seconds.

“Do you think he’s a selfless lover?”

“No.” The response was too quick, too ready on the forefront of your mind, something that didn’t go unnoticed by your friend. “I imagine he’s selfish in every aspect of his life.”

“So you imagine it?”

“Nesta.” Her name was sharp from your mouth, a knife slicing across the room. She took a more defensive stance, approaching your bed. A knowing smirk overtook her features for just a moment before it quickly contorted into one of concern and annoyance.

“Mother’s sake, tell me something, anything.” Nesta was pleading at this point, uncaring at the vulnerability and guilt she was sure was all over her face.

“I can’t.”

“You can tell me anything. Are you in danger?”

“No.”

“Well, I don’t know! You’re avoiding everyone, you're being self destructive, you’re spending a lot of time with Eris of all fae. What am I supposed to think?” She was pacing now, her footfalls back and forth across your floor, an anxious rhythm that only dug the secret deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Nesta, I can’t tell you.”

“I’m not accepting that.”

“What?” Her concern was shifting into nosiness. You clenched your hands in frustration, nails digging into skin harsh enough to leave marks.

“It’s not good enough.”

Rage was coiling inside of you, a ferocity nipping at your fingertips begging to be let out. You had to swallow down a growl from slipping out, the territorial feeling nearly consuming you.

You had to stall her. Get her out of here before you exploded before her.

“Give me a month to figure things out. I’ll be honest with you then.”

“A week.” You sighed through your nose. Of course Nesta was going to barter with you. Your left hand felt warm. A small trickle of blood was about to stain your sheets, no doubt.

“Two weeks.”

She looked to the window, her face blank as she thought over your offer. She was taking this almost too seriously, as if it were hostage negotiations or preparing for war.

“Fine. Fourteen days from now you’re telling me everything.” She pointed a long finger at you, the agreement weighing the air down. You felt a shift in the room, uncertain of the magical perimeters of your verbal agreement.

You released your hand, grabbing the pillow behind you. You didn’t care about the blood as you held the soft material to your face and screamed.

-

Members of the Inner Circle trickled in throughout the day, each one wanting to see for themselves you were awake and had all your faculties about you. It was sweet, but by the time you had seen Cassian and his boisterous laugh, your head was pounding so hard it made the soft lights in your room appear blinding.

Feyre had come in a few hours after Cassian, boxes loaded in her arms as she came into your room. You were a bit groggy, having just woken from a nap in the hopes it would tampen your migraine.

It half worked.

“What is all that?”

The boxes shuffled in Feyre’s arms, ringing and tingling with each step.

“Well, I wanted to bring some jewelry to look over for the gala in a few weeks.” You had completely forgotten about it, had forgotten that one of the days you were incapacitated was a scheduled day for you, Feyre, and Mor to go dress shopping.

“Thanks, Fey. Sorry for missing-” she shushed you, not letting you finish your apology. She spread the boxes across your bed, gently lifting the lid of each one to reveal exquisite necklace after exquisite necklace. Each one contained more vibrant jewels, shinier than the last.

The eight boxes practically blinded you with the light coming in. Feyre noticed the squint in your eye and quickly closed the curtains.

“They're gorgeous, but I haven’t even picked a dress.”

“Maybe you could pick a dress after you pick the jewels. Black goes with everything, so..” she trailed off, sitting in the seat next to you, her back straight. She watched you eagerly, her eyes flitting between you and the pile of jewels before you.

“Are you wearing any of these?”

“No - Rhys surprised me with some onyx pearls. Want them on full display.” She reached a hand up to her throat, as if feeling for the necklace. It was pretty easy to figure out exactly what Feyre meant - skin, and lots of it, on display. She was much quicker to adapt to fae views on modesty than you had anticipated.

“Oh, well in that case.” You sat up a bit straighter, moving slowly to avoid as much pain as possible. Each necklace must have been worth a pile of gold marks.

A few of them looked quite similar - chunky gemstones of varying colors set in different metals. One necklace did catch your eye. You kept looking over to it, the other ones looking dull and lifeless in comparison. Deep red stones perfectly set to resemble Night Court jasmines. The dark red nearly looked black until the light hit it, refracting rays of red. The stones branched out, weaving around the neck to create multiple flowers connected by leaves.

You couldn’t stop looking at the necklace, your hand gently rubbing across it.

“Do you like that one?”

Feyre had a knowing look as she watched you, but you didn't turn to see it.

“Yes. I do.”

-

A few more visitors came and went - Madja (again), Rhysand, Mor. Each one not the shadowsinger you wanted to see. Maybe it was better to wait. Build your strength up a bit before shattering your heart.

Rhysand and Mor could both tell your head wasn’t with them. Rhys accepted it, leaving you to your thoughts, but Mor lingered, her never ending stories an attempt at distracting you. The attempt half worked - at least now only every other thought was about Azriel.

But most of the other ones were about Eris.

Your friends tried to help clear your mind, but all your thoughts whirled and swirled with fire and shadow, bright and vibrant colors immediately snuffed out by the darkness.

Everyone told you Azriel was fine. But where was he? You felt unsettled, unable to truly concentrate without seeing him.

You glanced over to your bedside table, the book on broken mating bonds practically laughing at your turmoil.

You went over what to expect again, trying to see if you can recall all the symptoms and long term side effects of the broken bond, repeating them to yourself like a mantra.

-

It wasn’t until the next day you saw Azriel. He had gently knocked on the door before coming in, each movement slow and unsure, as if approaching a wild animal.

“I had heard rumors you were awake. Wanted to check for myself.” He stood with the door to his back, as far away as possible from you. One hand on the knob, but his body was angled right at you.

You couldn’t think of anything to say, only stare at him outright.

Azriel looked beautiful, like always, but he carried a tiredness with him. His wings weren’t as high as they usually stood, his shoulders were caved in a bit. His shadows were slithering in every direction, all trying to reach you, but held back by some invisible tether.

He looked miserable.

“If you don’t want me here, I can go.” Azriel’s voice was soft, an echo in the dark woods late at night. A salvation or a new fear.

“Have you visited while I was asleep?” You didn’t want to tell him how much you wanted him here, how much you still thought of him.

So what if you were going to stretch out the last few minutes of your bond.

“Madja wouldn’t let me. She had Cassian and Mor practically guarding the door day and night to ensure I stayed put until completely recovered.” He scoffed as he said it, as if he were nothing more than an animal incapable of decisive thought.

Or they didn’t think he was the coward he had been for the past few weeks. They thought him capable of seeing you.

And yet here he was. Despite his self-loathing, his inability to make a decision, to speak, to do anything his mates need him to.

He wanted to be the male his mates needed.

“I wanted-“ he began, searching the room for his next words, as if they would be written out on your wardrobe or the painting behind your head. He tightened his hand into a fist, the scars nearly turning white as he looked at you head on.

“I wanted to thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s my job.”

“It’s not your job to nearly die saving me.”

“I would have done it for anyone else.” The second the words left your lips, you knew Azriel wouldn’t believe them. He always knew when you were lying somehow, as if the mating bond gave him some unfair advantage to your heart and motivations.

Azriel only nodded, not fighting you on the lie. You watched him suspiciously, watched his chest rising and falling, subconsciously counting his breaths.

“Are you tired?”

He looked anguished, like he carried a deep hunger and no meal was enough to sustain him, let alone nourish him.

“No.”

“Nesta said you needed more rest.”

“Nesta lies when it suits her.”

An awkward silence settled over the two of you, weighing you down further into the bed. You took a deep breath, propping yourself up on your elbows until you reached a sitting position. You knew what you had to do, what you had to say. It wouldn’t get easier the longer this went on. Azriel moved to your side, moving pillows to give you a proper cushion and to help prop you up.

“We should talk, Az.” He looked over you, the pillows abandoned as all of his attention was focused on you. You held your hands in your lap, wringing them for every ounce of courage they contained to get through this conversation. Your stomach churned with dread, the thread around your heart trying to stop you from saying what you had to.

“When you were injured, because of me, I decided it’s not fair to you or me to keep dragging this out. We should end things.” You looked at your hands, proud you had gotten the words out without stuttering or breaking. You swallowed harshly, your throat dry, but you couldn’t bring yourself to reach for the water on your nightstand.

Quiet surrounded you, a stillness you hadn’t expected from this conversation. There were no shouts or sobs, no frustration sitting in your chest. No relief or songs of praise at being free.

Just silence. Like you had made him incapable of thought or feeling with those words.

“Is that what you want? Or is that what you think I want?” His words startled you, and you finally looked up to find a layer of rage coating his face. He had come closer while you were looking elsewhere, finally being in the room, allowing himself in the narrative.

Finally taking charge.

“Isn’t it? What’s the point in having a mate who doesn’t want you?” Your words had an immediate effect on him, the male before you rubbing his hands on his face. One of his shadows hooks around his fingers, trying to pry them away, to make him seen. Another one swirls his ear, and you can’t discern it, but you hear a light buzzing from it.

He sits in the chair next to your bed before quickly getting back up and grabbing one of your clammy hands.

“I have not been good to you or Eris. This is hard, okay? No one has ever had this happen and I didn’t want either of you hurt.”

You scoffed, trying to pull your hand away, but he held it tighter. The textured grooves of his skin were more prominent as he held you. “Bit late for that.”

“Please. Please, give me more time. Give me a chance. Maybe we can figure something out, some kind of arrangement.” He was desperate, a pleading voice you had never heard from him. Was this how criminals of the Night Court looked to him, pleading at the ends of their lives for just one more chance?

“An arrangement?”

“I don’t know, okay? I’m not sure what to do when I have two mates who I care about who also hate each other and they both currently hate me.” He paused, chest heaving. His hazel eyes looked so lost, so unsure. “Not to mention someone out there knows about us or about us being out there. I haven’t been able to figure it out, haven’t been able to figure any of this out.”

The end of his sentence tapered off into his spymaster voice. A tone full of obsession and getting to the root of things, a dogged voice of determination.

“Please, let me take care of you. If not as your mate, as your friend. I care so deeply about you and you are where all my thoughts have been the past few days.”

“What of Eris?” Azriel used to recoil at the mention of his other mate, his name so foreign on your tongue. Now he showed no change, almost happy to hear it.

“He’s popped in now and then. He’s angry with me for getting hurt.” The mention of it sent you back there. A large, heavy body nearly crushing you in an effort to save you. Hoe you had felt him slump into you, his body giving out, unable to hold himself up any longer.

“Is he upset you shielded me?”

“Eris would be more upset if I shielded him. Autumn males are incredibly proud creatures.”

“As proud as Illyrians?” Your question brought a smirk to his lips, a twitch you knew he couldn’t suppress. You hadn’t seen it in a few weeks, but it felt more like a lifetime since you had a chance to see anything other than impassiveness or pain on his face.

“Almost.” He chuckled, lighthearted and free. A rarity you didn’t take for granted. His smile melted, a more serious, solemn expression overtaking his face. His hazel eyes were a shade full of desperation you knew a little too well.

“Give me time. Please. I’ll handle Eris. Just don’t - don’t reject the bond if you have an ounce of hope this could work. That’s not a sadness I wish to see you carry.”

“Why are you talking to me about this now? You’ve been avoiding this for weeks, Az.”

“I was afraid. I thought if I acknowledged it, I'd be hurting Eris. But I hurt both of you anyway. And I need-” the words die on his tongue, an awkward pause as he searches for the right words without being too vulnerable. “I need to- I needed to.. I don’t know how to do this. To be the male you both need. But I’m here now. I’m here.”

“Are you here because you have to be?”

“No. I want to be here. Let me be here. Let me try.”

Something about him cracked you open inside. In the weeks of this turmoil, the constant push and pull, the uncertainty, Azriel hadn’t looked so open, so vulnerable, so pained. If you spent long enough, you were sure you could map out every regret on his face.

Two roads laid before you. To end it all now, cut off any further heartache. Or you could try, allow Azriel time to figure something out.

He cared for you, you knew that deep inside of you.

With each passing second, your earlier resolve to end things became weaker and weaker, your heart winning the argument with your mind. Perhaps Nesta was right: you were self-destructing. Or was it the mating bond, so loudly swirling in your chest, determined to see itself recognized, even if it meant leading you overboard into frigid waters?

“You may stay. One condition.”

Azriel’s face relaxed, but he still seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, your words only lifting a few pounds off the load.

“You can’t leave at any inconvenient time, can’t just leave or shut me out because things get hard. I am your mate, and if you don’t treat me as an equal, or someone of importance… I’m gone.”

“Of course.” A light tingle gripped you again, less powerful than the magic that had floated around during your deal with Nesta. This time it was more like a light wind disturbing settled dust, spreading it across the both of you. Azriel’s skin almost brightened with the promise, breathing new life into him.

It suited him.

Only, only one taglist: @ssmay123 @scarsandallaz @meritxellao @saltedcoffeescotch @2ooopenbook @wintersquirrel @manicmanuscription @wavegirl @thisishwrworld @tempermentalbookworm @romantasyreader28 @marina468 @i-know-i-can @rcarbo1 @lifesdisasters @tele86 @ireneisbored @yazzzmints @azysmate @bsenpai @curiosandcourioser @elisha-chloe @yasmin-oviedo @that-one-little-soybean @azrielslittledove @stormieandateacup @anon1227 @phoenix666stuff @asahinasstuff @acourtofbatboydreams @anainkandpaper @mother-above @sunshinedayz19 @bibliophilr @famousprincesscollector @calamislunafox @dnfhascorruptedme @blightyblinders @l11lll1th @cabbageisdead @love-over-fears @paintedbyshadows @azzydaddy @kbear8863 @luxlingbabe @the-sweet-psycho @whyucloudingmymind @lets-talk-about-xyz @slytherin-pen @krowiathemythologynerd @ailoda @fourthwing4ever @anehempel

[moonlightspencie]

don't want you like a best friend

Description: James is nervous about his inexperience with girls. Luckily he has a best friend who's more than willing to help. (based on an idea formed in part by @amiableness. check out the post)

Pairing: best friend!James Potter x fem!Reader

Warnings: DESPERATE!james, inexperienced!james, blowjob (m receiving), porn with barely any plot

Word Count: 2.5k

a/n: kind of muggle!au? doesn't really matter in the context of this though lmao

You walked into James's flat, quite pleased he'd given you a key. It was much easier to bother him whenever you pleased when you could just waltz in any time.

"James!" you called out, toeing off your shoes.

"In here!" he shouted back.

You followed his voice to his room, seeing him laying on his tummy watching tv. You ran up to his bed and flopping down on it next to him. He laughed in that squeaky, joyful way he only ever seemed to do around you.

"Hi," he greeted with a cheeky smile.

"Hi," you replied with an equal grin, then glanced at the television. "What are you watching?"

"Nature documentary about penguins," he responded simply.

You glanced up at him with a quirked brow. "Why?"

"Cause I like penguins," he shrugged.

"...we need to get you a girlfriend."

He went a little quiet, prompting you to look at him again. You tilted your head.

"James?"

He chewed his lip. "I– I do kind of have a date. Tomorrow."

"What?" you exclaimed, suddenly sitting up straight. "Who? Since when?"

His cheeks went a little pink. "Sirius set it up for me."

"Oh my god! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I'm nervous!"

You chuckled softly, still in a bit of disbelief. The boy had been single for far too long in your opinion, especially considering how much girls threw themselves at him in school. He always said that it was just because he had high standards, but part of you was half-convinced he must be terrified of girls. Or commitment. Maybe both.

"I just... I can't believe it. Is she cute?"

He almost grimaced. Not a great sign.

"Uh oh," you snorted a laugh.

"It's not that she's ugly! She's... she is pretty, its just," he sighed, shrugging a little, "she's not really my type, I guess."

"At this point, I'm beginning to believe you don't have a type."

He frowned. "Hey."

"Just saying, James. You never date, and it's not for lack of girls who like you."

"I kind of have to like them back for that to work."

"You sure you're not scared of girls?" you asked with a laugh.

He chuckled a little, shaking his head. "No."

"Commitment?"

"No."

"...Sex?"

"Ugh, don't say that," he groaned, dropping his face against the mattress.

You laughed again. "Sounds like a yes. It's really not that scary."

"It's kinda scary," he mumbled against his comforter.

"James," you called quietly, resting your cheek on the mattress to look at him.

He turned his face towards you, his cheeks pink and his hair even messier than usual. His lips were slightly pouty. Frankly, it was absolutely adorable.

"Everyone but me has done it at this point. The furthest I ever got was touching a boob over clothes in fifth year."

You couldn't help but to laugh at that, causing him to whine your name in protest.

"Sorry..." you said, not all that apologetic. "It's just... cute. You get so flustered. It's really not a big deal."

"It is a big deal to me."

"Aw. I'm sorry, Jamie. I just mean that nobody's going to fault you for being inexperienced."

"They might!"

"No they won't."

"You don't know that."

"At any rate, I think it's sweet."

"But I'm not having sex with you," he argued, then snapped his mouth shut, his cheeks going even darker. "That sounds... I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," you ran a hand through his hair, and he leaned into the touch. "I just mean to say that I'm sure if I think it's sweet, other girls would also probably think it's cute."

"I'm a man. I shouldn't be cute, I should be... strong and masculine. Hot."

"You're very hot, James."

He sighed, still pouting a little.

"Put that lip away," you muttered, tapping his bottom lip.

"You're being mean."

"No, I'm not."

"You're teasing me," he pouted again.

"What? How?"

"You're very hot, James," he mocked in an overly-high-pitched voice.

You snorted a laugh. "Heaven forbid I tell my hot best friend that he is, in fact, hot."

He fell quiet for a moment. "You really think so?"

"Of course I do."

"Mm," he hummed softly, then sighed. "Why can't there be more girls like you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, smiling curiously.

"You're always so sweet to me. I just wish there were more girls who act like you, cause then I could just... do it with them and not be so worried about it."

You raised your brows, trying to hold back another laugh. "Oh, really?"

"Don't tease me."

"I'm not. Just, why don't–" you stopped abruptly.

He looked at you with wide eyes. "What?"

"If you're so worried about getting your first time over with, then why don't you just do it with me?"

He looked like he got the wind knocked out of him in that moment, blinking a few times as if he was trying to wake up from a dream. He opened his mouth a few times, though no sound came out.

"I just mean that... you said you'd do it with a girl like me, so why not me? You trust me, I know what I'm doing, you know I won't judge," you listed off some reasons. "It could work, you know?"

"Cause you're... you're my best friend."

"And?"

"And friends don't do that."

"Friends do that all the time," you replied with a shrug.

"What?" he asked, looking totally mortified.

"Friends have sex all the time."

"Since when?"

"Since forever," you chuckled a little. "I'm not saying we have to. Just putting it out there, since you're so nervous about it and all."

"I–I don't..."

"You don't have to say yes."

"I know," he nodded, looking a little uncomfortable. "It's just... I don't think I'm ready to do all of that right now."

You smile a little. "I'm not saying I'd take you to pound town right now..."

"Ugh," he groaned.

"Sorry. I just mean to say that, if you wanted to, we could start slow. Work you up to the main event."

He chewed his lip, looking away from you. You sighed softly, then stood from the bed.

"Alright. Let's go and grab a snack or something and take your mind off all this. Stop stressing so much," you said, trying to grab his arm to pull him up.

He shook his head. "Can't."

"What? Yes, you can."

"No, I can't," he emphasized, his cheeks still dark.

"Why not."

He stared at you for a moment, then whined, dropping his head into the comforter again. He mumbled something into the fabric, causing you to groan in annoyance.

"What are you saying? I can't hear you when you mumble."

"You don't understand," he said, looking at you again with a pouty face. "You're not a guy."

"What the hell is that supposed to... Oh," your eyes widened. You let out a disbelieving, delighted little giggle. "Are you–"

"Please don't talk about it. It'll make it worse," he said quickly in his whiny little voice.

"Aww. Poor baby."

"Stop it."

"Let me see."

His eyes widened comically. "What?"

"Let me see. Come on, turn over," you giggle, trying to turn him.

"Lovie, no, I..."

"Please?" you pouted, knowing he could never resist it.

He whined. "Please don't. It's embarrassing."

"It's hot."

He gulped. "...It is?"

You nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of flattering, too. The fact that I barely suggested it and you got all excited."

"It's not my fault. I just... my brain started thinking..."

"Yeah, brains tend to do that," you joked, relishing in him being all flustered. It was so unlike his usual demeanor. "Come on, Jamie. I just want to see."

He swallowed, nodding a little awkwardly before he turned onto his back. You smirked a little to yourself at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. You sat back on the bed right next to him, glancing back at his nervous face.

"Can I touch?"

"I... I don't know."

"Just over the pants right now."

He considered it for a few moments, before taking a deep breath, nodding.

"Okay," he said quietly, his hands balling into fists.

You smiled. "Relax."

You let your hand rest on his thigh first, watching him as his eyes trailed your every move. You slowly slid up his leg, teasingly, just so you could see him sweat a little at the thought of being touched for the first time. He was generally quite confident, but somehow missed out on anything and everything intimate outside of kissing.

He sucked in a breath as you reached his hip, looking as if he could pass out.

"Hey," you said gently, trying to catch his eye. "Take a deep breath. Relax. It's supposed to feel good."

He sniffed, nodding shakily. "Y-yeah. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Jamie. Just... relax. Okay?"

"Okay."

You let your hand move again, barely ghosting over his bulge, the tips of your fingers touching the fabric of his sweatpants. You looked up at his face. His cheeks were red, and his eyes were wide and almost glossy. His pretty, pouty lips were just barely parted as he waited in anticipation for your next move.

You lowered your hand, gripping him gently through his pants, forcing a shaky gasp through his lips. You smirked to yourself a little, stroking him through his pants.

"Feels good, huh?" you asked in a quiet voice.

He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a pathetic little moan. You chuckled at the sound, stroking him again. He was bigger than you expected him to be, but not terribly massive. His hips bucked into your hand, another soft whine coming from him.

"Aww. You like it, huh?"

He nodded, breath coming in short.

"Can I do a little more?"

"Uh..."

"I think you'll like it."

"M-maybe," he gasped out, looking utterly wrecked already.

"Can I take off your pants?"

He looked at your face again. "Huh?"

"Can I take them off? I wanna touch you," you stated simply.

He whimpered. "Um... For... for what?"

You furrowed your brow. "So I can feel you. I just want to touch your skin. It'll feel better for you, too. You touch yourself, right?"

"I... Y-yeah. Yeah, sometimes."

"And I assume you don't do it through your pants, right?" you laugh a little.

He merely swallows, nodding dumbly. "Right."

"So... Can I touch you like that? I won't do it unless you say yes."

"Oh..." he sucked in a shaky breath. "O-okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes."

You smiled, hooking your fingers in his sweatpants and underwear. "Hips up, please."

He followed your instructions easily, lifting his hips for you. You tugged everything down in one go, leaving it all pooled at his ankles on the bed. You nearly moaned yourself when you saw him, hard and leaky and ready. You traced his dick softly with your fingertips, impressed with him, and drawing another moan from his lips.

"So pretty, Jamie. Look at you."

"Don't... fuck," he gasped. "Don't say that."

"I mean it. Your cock is perfect."

He whimpered again, sounding like he could cry. You wrapped a hand around him, stroking him softly as hips bucked into your hand, soft moans and squeaks leaving him in utter desperation.

"P-please," he begged, staring at you as if you hung the stars.

"Please?"

"I... I don't know," he shook his head, his lip quivering.

"You need more?"

He sniffled, nodding quickly. "So bad. Please."

"Can I suck your cock, love?"

The sound that left his lips was utterly pornographic, his chest heaving like he'd run a marathon.

"God..."

"That's not my name, baby," you stroke him again. "I need you to say yes if this is what you want."

"Y-yes. Fuck yes," he said, his hips still shifting under you, trying to get more friction from your hand.

"So needy," you chide jokingly, moving to settle between his legs.

He whined watching you climb between his legs, nearly hyperventilating at the sight and feeling of you kissing along his stomach with your hand pushing his shirt up.

"So pretty," he groaned, stroking your hair.

You smiled against his stomach, licking nearly up to his chest just to hear him make that sound again. You kissed back down his stomach, barely ghosting over the tip of his cock at you looked back up at him.

"Ready?"

He nodded, in a trance as he watched you. You kept his eye contact as you darted your tongue out, tasting him for the first time. He practically sobbed in pleasure, pulling on your hair slightly.

"Told you it would feel good, baby," you mutter, licking from base to tip as he squirmed under your touch. "Isn't this nice?"

"Mmmm..." he nodded, chest heaving.

"Good boy," you kissed his tip.

You stared up at him, smiling to yourself at his sweet little reactions as you started stroking him. He looked so adorable totally wrecked. Like he could pass out at any moment. You couldn't help but to want more.

You wet your lips, figuring you could probably fit most of him into your mouth in one go: so you decided to give it a go. You licked him once more, then shoved his cock down your throat, letting it hit far enough to make you gag.

He shouted, gasping for air before he fell into a puddle of moans and desperate praises of your name. You pulled off of him, but only for a second before you went back down, sucking on him as if your life depended on it. It felt like it did.

He gripped the fabric of his comforter, sobbing in pleasure as his hips jutted up into your mouth. You were about to pull off to make some sly remark, when he whimpered loudly, shooting his cum down your throat. You hummed around him, swallowing everything you could despite your utter surprise that he had finished so quickly. He whined and kept his grip tight in your hair until he was done, his seed dribbling past your lips as you couldn't quite swallow everything. You weren't sure if you'd ever witnessed someone cumming so much before.

You did your best to clean him off without making him overly-sensitive, and finally pulled off.

"Mm... Holy fuck, Jamie. You cum that much every time?” You ask, chuckling a little despite being wildly aroused.

He shook his head, sweaty and still whimpering.

"Awww," you cooed softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "You okay?"

"That... that felt..."

"What?"

"Best thing ever," he managed breathily.

You laughed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he uttered, a small smile on his face as he opened his eyes. "I... you're really good at that."

"Apparently too good," you snorted.

"Maybe," he nodded, then hummed softly in pleasure. "Sorry for cumming so fast."

"It was sweet."

"It's not sweet," he shook his head.

"I think so. You're so sensitive," you kissed his cheek.

He hummed again, then sighed softly. You watched him as he took a few steadying breaths before he moved his eyes back to you. He let his eyes linger on your form for several moments, then chewed his lip. He looked up at you, clearly debating something in his mind.

Then he smiled a little.

"Can I return the favor next time?"