#also i have the vision in my mind of her picking me up under the armpits like a little bunch of grapes and. mrroww!!!!!!!!

[love-toxin]

YESSSSS CHO HYUN JU, MY WIFEEEEEEEE

YOU GET IT.....listen i just think a hefty slap (or two) from her would fix me. definitely not in the gay way (definitely in the gay way). also i want her to step on me. also please marry m-//SHOT

[nanamisgirly]

hey gorgjus, I have a request 😛

Lads men when reader is ovulating and all she wants to do is..well her man. Doesn’t matter where or when she’s just super needy for multiple rounds to the point where maybe even they’re a bit shocked, but up for the challenge~ ofc u don’t have to but I’d die if u did 🤭💕

୨୧ — a/n HIIII it took me so long to write, I was turned on each time HELPPPP, anyway I gave my whole hope you will enjoy!! ALSO sorry I yapped so much (as per usual 😔), COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED MA GIRLIIIIES <3333 (especially comments I love talking to you 💋)

୨୧ — FEAT bestfriend!Caleb, boyfriend!guitarist!Xavier (have the vision IT'S CANON IDCCC), boyfriend!Rafayel (day at the beach), boyfriend!Zayne (grinding on him), boyfriend!Sylus (on mission duuuh) x fem!reader

୨୧ — cw multiple position (prone bone, matting press, cowgirl,..), cumplay, rough & messy sex, degrading (calling her a whore, needy), praise, pet name, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink in Caleb, creampied, cumming dry, oral sex (Caleb giving, Rafayel receiving), squirting in Caleb, cumming on face in Caleb, size kink, big stretch, big cock, masturbation, semi-voyeurism (Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus), Caleb just won't shut up, unashamed reader, fighting for dominance, sub Rafayel, Sylus is down bad for her, mean Zayne, teasing, belly bulge (Xavier), lot of spit and drool, overstimulated reader and men!, they do moan bc as long as I live my men WILL moan!

𓂃۶ৎ CALEB

Caleb is sprawled out beside you on the couch, legs widely open, one ankle resting lazily on the edge of the coffee table. His thighs are stretching the grey fabric of his sweatpants, making your case much worse and making you impossible to focus on the movie playing on the TV.

And the way his hoodie is pushed up to show those big veiny forearms, golden skin stretched on muscles…

You shake your head, trying to stop the thoughts, you’re his best friend for fuck’s sake. You’re supposed to be watching a movie and maybe eating popcorn, not fantasizing about straddling him and grinding against his muscular thigh. You’re not supposed to salivate for the bushy happy trail picking under his ridden-up hoodie.

It’s useless…your skin is so hot, your pulse is thudding behind your ears, and you’re so wet it’s uncomfortable how your pantie is clinging to you. 

“You okay?” he asks, as he saw you shift for the nth time. 

And it’s unfair, unfair how pretty his face is. Soft, boyish lips, tenting you, with a stubble he didn’t bother shaving this morning making you wonder how it’d feel between your legs. And no need to talk about his big round purple eyes, making you go insane. 

“yeah” you say standing way too fast. “I just…don’t feel well. Gonna head to bed early.”

“Oh…” he blinks those giant puppy eyes at you, making you grow wetter. “Okay. Do you need anything?” 

“No, don’t worry. See you tomorrow.”

“Alright. Sleep tight, babe.” His follows you with big concerned eyes. 

Babe.

Babe?!

You swear you’re about to slam your head against the wall. Why is he making everything so hard? Your pussy is pulsing, in need. So in need to be stuffed it actually hurt.

It’s unbearable.

And really, is it wrong to take matters into your own hands?

To grab that big, veiny dildo you keep stashed in your bedside drawer and sink it into your dripping cunt while your best friend sits just meters away in the other room?

Is it really wrong to tweak your nipple with your free hand, imagining it’s his rough palm twisting and tugging, his voice in your ear telling you how tight and messy you are for him?

You gasp as you push it in, slow at first, then desperate. You’re already soaked and your walls clench around the toy greedily. Your eyes flutter shut, jaw slack, hips lifting off the bed as you start to fuck yourself faster, harder.

And all you have in your mind is Caleb. His purple eyes, his strong and big body that could easily manhandle you—roughly. 

You moan—loud, unashamed—and arch off the bed, back taut, lips parted as the waves build fast and wild.

You don’t hear the door creak open.

Not until—

“I keep hearing you making noises, I’m worried you—”

You freeze—only for a second—when your eyes, heavy and glassy, blink toward the doorway.

Caleb is frozen mid-step, one hand on the doorknob, his brows dawn in confusion that melts into something darker. His mouth parts, his eyes drop to the way your legs are spread, how your hand is working that dildo inside you like you need it to breathe.

But at this point? You truly don’t care. Your hips keep jerking, desperate and out of control, slick coating your thighs in glossy streaks. Your gaze meets his—blurry with tears of frustration—and you let out the most fragile, needy whine.

He doesn’t move, he simply stares—like he’s watching the holiest, dirtiest thing he’s ever seen. You can only see his chest rises and falls, nostrils flaring.

His eyes drop to the soaked sheets, the obscene squelch of the toy still buried between your legs and your fucked-out eyes begging him to do something are driving him into oblivion. His cock already hard and painful.

“you’re fucking yourself…” his voice is low, “lying in here whining for me like that. Thought you were sick.”

You watch as he approaches—slow at first, like he’s afraid the dream will vanish—before he kneels at the edge of the bed. He grabs your wrist, almost gently, and yanks the toy from your cunt with a wet, messy pop. You keen at the loss, hips bucking, slick spilling onto the sheets. 

“You needed this bad, huh? So bad you couldn’t ask me? So bad you were ashamed to sit next to me on the couch?”

You can’t answer—just nod through the haze, cheeks flushedyour walls clenching around nothing, feeling so empty it hurts.

His gaze drops to your empty hole and how your hips keep twitching.

“Are you in heat or something?” his eyes are still fixated on your cunt, almost like he’s talking to her. “You smell like it. Like you’re ready to be bred.”

You whimper, spreading your legs wider, offering yourself. “Caleb... Fuck, do something ‘bout it. I can’t... it’s too empty... I need—I need—"

That’s all it takes.

Caleb lunges, hands bruising on your thighs as he pulls you down to the edge of the bed. 

“fuckin’ hell.” He buries his face between your legs with a groan that sounds like agony and bliss all at once. “This pussy’s crying for cock, babe.”

You gasp when he wraps his arms under your thighs and locks you in place, dragging his mouth through your folds—tongue’s everywhere sloppy and greedy, licking everything you could give him.

“mmmh such a sweet taste.” His voice’s muffled by your puffy lips. “You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Please, let me have it, please. I want you to mark me. Wanna be drenched in you. I’ve waited so long to be covered in your cum, your sweet liquid all over my face, hot and warm.” 

His lips suck on your clit, hard—creating suction.

“No more toys. No more hiding in your room touching yourself when I’m out there. All this cum going to waste? Not in my watch.” You’re lips part in a silent scream when he suddenly inserts two long fingers into your soaked pussy, curling them just right—just onto your spongy spot.

“Caleb, don’t stop—ah!—feels so good,” you pant, rocking into him. “Your tongue—oh! Right here! Yes, fuck—need more…”

“You’re gonna get it—mph keep tugging on them—” Caleb’s eyes roll back as your fingers grope his hair, pushing him deeper in your cunt. “gonna give you the real thing if you make a pretty mess on my face. You can do that right?”

Your heart is pounding so hard, and your walls keep clenching and clenching. At this point, you’re gushing all over his face. 

The pleasure overwhelming your sense. “Caleb move your fingers faster..”

And he does just as you asked. His fingers soaked, filthy sounds escaping your pussy every time he moves them in, they’re white. White of your arousal.

And when he sucks on your clit once again, you cum harder than ever. Back arching, scream ripped straight from your lungs as you convulse around his fingers.

But when you collapse, breath ragged, the ache in your core only gets worse. Your body aches, womb throbbing—begging for him and only him. A hunger that no toy, no fingers and no tongue could satisfy.

You prop yourself on your elbows, eyes blown wide and pupils sharp as you look down the thick, flushed length already in his hand. Veins running up the shaft, the tip swollen and deep brown. So pretty your mouth goes dry. There’s probably drool coming out of the corner of your lips. 

“Need you to fuck me.” You rasp. “Fuck me so deep I could feel you for days.”

His jaw clenches, knuckles going white around the base of his cock. “You’re not ready—”

“You smell me, don’t you?” you grab your knees and pull them up, wide, exposing everything. “You said it—I’m in fucking heat. I want to be stuffed. I need to be bred. Caleb, please…” you look up at him with teary eyes.

“Fuckin’ mine.” He snarls, yanking your hips down until your ass is flush with the edge of the bed and he’s lined up, cock head brushing over your soaked entrance. You arch up into him panting and almost crying from the pressure building under your skin.

Caleb moves his cock head up and down your entrance, circling your sensitive clit with his fat tip—smearing all his precum across your folds.

“Caleb…stop the tease. Put it in.”

He leans over you, face twisted in lust and longing. “As the lady begs.”

And in one brutal thrust, he’s deeeep inside you. Your cunt stretches wide around him, to its maximum, it’s borderline with pain. His cock’s so thick you swear you can feel every tiny twitch, every fucking pulse against your walls.

His forehead presses to yours, one hand fisted in your hair, the other locked under your knee to keep you open. “You’re so tight. . like so fuckin’ tight—shit, hiding this perfect pussy from me, you some of selfish girl, ain’t you ?”

“Caleb,” you cry, tears leaking from your eyes. “If you don’t move—”

He lets out a guttural sound, something animalistic—cutting you off—and starts driving into you, fast. The bed creaks under his thrust, wet slaps echo around you.

“My needy little fuckdoll…” he whispers against your ear, “So so wet and desperate, how long have you been walking around wanting this pussy to be fucked properly?” He pants, thrusting harder, “My cock’s the only thing that’ll help you, mhh? Say it.”

You sob, words crumbling in your throat, your pussy gripping him so tight it’s like you’ll never let him go. “Forever.” The word rips out of you, cracked and breathless. “I thought about you every night. Wanted this cock in me so bad I couldn’t fucking sleep—please, Caleb, I need it.”

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, thrusts getting messier. “I knew it. Knew you were touchin’ yourself thinkin’ about me—slippin’ fingers into that sloppy little hole pretending it was mine.” 

“Yes!” you cry, choking on it, back arching off the bed.

Big rough hands suddenly slam into your hips, holding you down—pinning you on the mattress as his thrusts becomes more and more sloppier. And when his fat tip hits something wicked inside you—

“Holy fuck,” his voice wrecked, pausing only a split second to look down at the mess you just made. “Did you—did you just…squirted?” his eyes are still on the white liquid all over his pelvis, his balls and thighs.

You nod, a bit ashamed, a bit too fucked-out to fully comprehend.

“Gonna make you do that again.” He shifts your legs up higher, hitting now at a deeper angle, hips pistoning without mercy. “Wanna see that pussy gush all over me again, spill for me—paint my cock with it even. Fuck that’s so hot, you have no idea.”

𓂃۶ৎ XAVIER

Are you a whore for wanting to fuck Xavier’s cock buried deep in you again? And right before his big concert, no less.

He’s waited for this moment for so long, going on and on about how excited he was to perform with his band at this famous festival — a major turning point in their career.

And it’s not like Xavier didn’t satisfy you before coming here. He knew you were ovulating and was more than happy to fuck you for who knows how long—long enough to cum dry, reduced to those weak, poor little spurts.

But it is his fault for looking so damn sexy in the back stage waiting room : pretty makeup, painted nails, and some mouthwatering outfit—if we could call even call that an outfit. It’s just tight leather pants and a jacket with nothing under it, his abs—and the tattoo down his hips—plus his pink nipples are right there in front of you. and watching him run through his setlist on guitar wasn’t helping one bit. His long fingers gliding over the strings, teasing the cords…

“Hey, you good?” Xavier’s voice pulls you out of your trance. “You all flushed and…shifting in your seat.” He tilts his head, clearly concerned. “If you need something I can call—” 

“No!” you respond too quickly, making him furrows his brows. 

When he smirks and his pupils dilate more, you realize he knows exactly what’s going on. “You really are one horny girl.” He laughs softly, shaking his head in disbelief before turning his attention back to his guitar. 

“God forbid a girl wants her man all over her.” You mutter, crossing your arms with a fake pout.

Xavier hums, amused—only making you even more irritated. 

You cross your legs. Then uncross. Then squeeze your thighs together, desperate for relief. 

“Something wrong with the seat?” he asks, still pretending to look at his guitar, rings flashing under the light.

You shoot him a glare, but it only fuels him. He lets his eyes roam over you for a long second, slow and unashamed. “You really are squirmy tonight. Is it the pants?” he gestures lazily to himself. “You don’t like leather, maybe?”

Before you can answer, someone passes by the open door of the backstage lounge, tossing Xavier a quick, “Five minutes, man!” 

He waves a hand without looking. His eyes stay on you. “I’ll make it quick,” he shouts back—but you don’t know if he means it to him or…to you.

More people start moving outside—crew, staff, the bandmate walking past, making it much worse. The room doesn’t even have a door, just a curtain half-drawn. But it might as well not be there at all.

And Xavier starts tuning again, lazily, strumming slow, deep chords. It’s like foreplay with a guitar. Every sound, every note, synced to the rise and fall of your breath. Like he’s playing you.

“Touch yourself,” he says quietly.

Your head snaps up. 

“No one’s looking. Just a little. Over the pants.” He adds like that’s supposed to help your case.

“No need to tell me twice.” You shift, subtly, rocking your hips the smallest bit where you sit.

“Rub your clit a bit, get some relief before I go out there.” He whispers for only you to hear, his pupils have eaten the deep ocean blue of his eyes. “I’ll be thinking about it the whole time.”

You bring a hand to your clothed pussy, cupping it, your thumb coming to your swollen bund, pressing and circling it—you whimper at the sensation, a deep exhale leaving your lips.

“Fuck this.” He groans.

He drops the guitar onto the couch, grabs your wrist and pulls you up like you weigh nothing. You stumble into his chest, dizzy with the contact, with the heat radiating off his skin. He looks left, right and practically drags you out of the lounge, down a narrow hallway and around the corner. 

There’s a supply closet. Barely lit. barely big enough to stand in—but it will do.

He shoves the door open and pulls you in.

The moment it shuts, he slams you against it—hard enough to rattle your bone in the best way—and cages you in with both arms.

“You couldn’t wait,” he breathes against your cheek. “My cock is still sensitive from earlier and here you are. Shifting in your seat like a brat. Was it not enough?”

“Well, you wore leather,” you tease, smiling fully—but it disappears as fast as it appeared when his mouth crushed onto yours.

His tongue licks your lips, kissing you with all he got. One thigh sliding between yours and pressing against your aching core. His hands move down your hips, forcing you to grind down on him, adding more pressure as his tongue invades your mouth.

The kiss is filthy—both of you fighting for dominance. Nothing sweet or gentle. Just teeth, spit and bruising heat. Wet sounds echo in the cramped closet—muffling the world behind the tiny door—drool dripping down your chins.

“I swear you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says once he pulls away to take a needed breath. “My cock is barely functioning, and—fuck” his eyes rolls back when you arch to reach one of his strawberry-colored nipples with your mouth, teeth tugging enough to make him hiss. 

“We gotta be quick, okay? Don’t be too loud—”

“I’m not the one who’s loud, Xavier,” You snap, hands already on his belt, pulling his cock free. “Pull my pants down now, would ya? It’s not like we have time to lose, mh?”

You nuzzle into the side of his neck, kissing the sensitive spot under his ear while his thigh presses back and forth against your soaked panties.

His hands move fast, yanking your pants and underwear down in one go—then flipping you around so your bare ass is pressed flush to his leaking tip.

“I don’t need to be prepared—”

“So greedy,” he cuts you off, slamming his hips forward and sinking into your warm, dripping cunt.

“Oh, fuck.” You moan, palms flat against the cold wall, pushing your hips back, desperate to take all of him. Xavier’s cock is curved perfectly to hit that throbbing, aching spot that had your vision going white within seconds.

He holds you tight, grinding his hips into yours in a punishing, frantic rhythm. His mouth crashes to your shoulder and his bites into it. “How’s that?” he pants, breath hot and wild. “Is it a good fuck? Do you like being fucked like this?” one of his hands grabs a handful of your ass, fingers digging in hard. 

“That’s what you wanted? My fat cock inside your needy cunt.” his hips clapping against yours with filthy, echoing slaps. You can feel it. Every inch. Every stretch of him.

And you feel so full—the pressure is insane. Your belly is tight, heat coiling in your core and crawling up your spine. When you glance down, just barely, you can see it—a faint bulge at the bottom of your stomach every time he slams in, punching the air from your lungs.

“Fuck,” you gasp. “You’re so deep—I can see you inside me.”

His rhythm stutters, a choked moan ripping from his throat as he presses a hand flat over your lower stomach, right where his cock is visible. “Stuffing this tight pussy all nice.”

Your head tips back, a broken moan ripping from your throat as your back arches, hips rocking to meet him halfway. “So good—ah!—really good Xavier—don’t you dare stop,” you cry out, voice trembling. 

And just as his other hand comes to twist your nipple, hard fast, just how you like it—

“Has anyone seen Xavier?” a voice cuts in, rushed and far too close.

Your head whips toward him, but he’s already looking at you—his face stricken for a second, then overtaken by that same unhinged, hungry need. 

“He was in his room, like, two minutes ago.” You distingue one of his bandmate’s voice.

“Shit, shit—we gotta hurry,” he grits out, barely louder than a breath. He’s still buried in you, still chasing that last high.

His thrusts grow ragged and sloppy. He grips your hips tighter, slamming into you harder, deeper—the slap of skin on skin is loud and soaked with all the slick leaking down your thighs.

“Please, come with me, sweetie…” his voice’s raw, fucked-out against your shoulder. One hand fumble between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, messy circles.

Every thrust slam into your sweet spot with punishing accuracy, and the pressure in your belly coils tighter and tighter. You can’t think—can’t breathe—his cock is pulsing inside you, so hot, so hard—

“gonna come—I’m gonna —” you whisper, eyes fluttering, completely gone.

“Do it,” he groans. “Let go. Come for me. Make a mess on my cock—make this pussy gush, baby.” He demands, fingers pressing tighter to your clit—coaxing your orgasm, his thrusts getting more erratic and rougher.

Your walls locking down around him, gushing, your legs shaking. The orgasm crashes into you like a fucking truck. Your body convulses, clit pulsing under his fingers, your cunt fluttering around his cock—the bulge in your stomach pulses with every thrust.

Xavier hisses through his teeth, losing control the second your walls squeeze once too hard around his wide length. “Jesus—fuck, yes!—j-just like that—oh shit…” he chokes out, burying himself deep inside as hot ropes of cum fills your womb, cock twitching.

His head drops to your shoulder, forehead slick with sweat against your skin.

For a second, it’s just your breathing—ragged, tangled, all-consuming.

“Xavier! You coming or what?” someone shouts, just outside the door. 

“Goddamn it.” He mutters, pulling out of you with a protesting whimper, trying to steady his breath. His cum starts dripping down your thigh as he stumbles back, moving fast and try to shove himself back into his boxers, one hand fumbling with his zipper.

You stumble a little, legs shaking as you fix your clothes, heart still hammering in your chest. 

Before he can fully turn away, you grab his jaw—his breath stills, eyes snapping to you.

You pull him into a filthy, wet kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. Going on your tiptoes, you bring your mouth to his ear and murmurs “Don’t forget…we’re not done, pretty boy.”

Your tongue flicks against the shell of his ear­—goosebumps parkouring down his neck.

You smirk and purr at his reaction. “And don’t forget who you belong to when girls start throwing their bras at your face, mh?”

His eyes widen, hungry, and then he’s gone—rushing out the door, jaw still tingling from your grip.

𓂃۶ৎ RAFAYEL

It was such a hot day. .

The kind of heat that slicked your skin in sweat before you’d even moved, the kind that left the air heavy and unbearable. 

So, when Rafayel suggested a beach day, with that shy little tilt of his head, you had almost laughed. Not because it was stupid idea, but he thought it would cool you down.

He didn’t know better.

You were absolutely a wet mess for his cock. Your body was way more much hotter than the sun hitting on the sand.

So, of course, when you found the hidden cove—all shadows and crashing waves—you were on Rafayel before he could even make a comment on the view. 

“Please, Rafayel,” you whispered, breath ghosting hot across his lips. Your chest heaved against his, pinning him effortlessly, and your fingers curled around his wrist.

His breath hitched, pupils blown wide, violet eyes barely visible through the haze of lust and disbelief. Even his lips were still kiss-swollen.

“I—I don’t think I can even fuck you properly,” he stammered, voice cracking so cutely. “Even If I wanted to. I’m still—God—I haven’t recovered yet…”

And indeed, you’d both spent most of your times in the hotel’s bed sheets, fucking all night all day from the kitchen floor to the bathroom’s sink. His mouth and dick buried between your thighs pulling so many orgasms out of you, and him. Non-stop.

Your body pressed tighter, practically purring against his as you leaned into his neck, nipping just above his collarbone. He gasped—so easily startled 

You could feel his pulse against your lips—frantic. You took your chance and slid your hand down his toned stomach until it reached the front of his swim shorts. When you cupped his length with your palm, he twitched violently.

“For a man who says he hasn’t recovered, you’re quite well-functioning y’know.” You mock. 

You slowly lift your gaze from his cock to his face—eyes glassy with hunger—and you whisper, “you only have to be here. I can do all the work…please, Rafayel. I need to soothe the ache.”

He blinked, breath stuttering hips already betraying him with a slow roll forward. “I can’t take much more—”

You cut him off with a grind of your hips, dragging your soaked bikini bottom over the swell of him, letting him feel exactly how needy you were—your folds stuck to the fabric, your slick a mess between you both, and he whimpered.

“Just keep looking pretty,” you murmured, licking into his open mouth. “That’s all you ever have to do.”

You sank to your knees, hands tugging at the waistband of his shorts with zero patience. His cock slapped up against his stomach—flushed an angry pink, throbbing, soaked in precum—his tip redder than usual from the overstimulation.

You let out the most pornographic moan ever, head tilting as you watched the fat bead of slick drip from his slit. He twitched under your gaze, a pitiful whimper slipping from his bitten-red lips.

You flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock, dragging it cruelly from the base to the tip, savoring the salty-slick taste of him. You circled his swollen head with the tip of your tongue, smearing his own precum around it, watching his thighs tremble.

“F-fuck—ah, I—” he choked, fingers scrambling against the rock behind him, eyes wide. “P-please—please, baby, don’t tease—” 

You laughed against his cock before sinking down, swallowing him in one wet, choking glide, shoving your face until your nose pressed into the soft curls at his pelvis.

His back arched.

One hand clawed helplessly at the rock wall behind him while the other gripped your hair in a panic-tight hold, trying to either stop you or pull you deeper—he didn’t even know.

You moaned around him, loud and guttural, your thora vibrating around his cock, drool bubbling at the corners of your mouth. Your ruined bikini clung to your body like a second skin, soaked clean through—fabric bunched between your folds, practically dripping as you rocked your hips against nothing.

You pulled back just to spit thickly onto his cock, watching it mix with your slick and his precum, running down your chin, stringing between your lips and his tip as you licked back up with filthy abandon.

“I—I can’t—” he sobbed, head slamming back against the rock. “Y-you’re too—fuck—it’s too much, I can’t—”

“You can,” you snarled, fisting the base of his cock with one hand, pumping him hard as you licked his tip with quick, sloppy little flicks. “You will.”

The second he came—spilling down your throat, twitching in your mouth, voice broken and wrecked—you climbed on top of him. Still on your knees in the sand, bikini bottom shoved aside, folds glistening and dripping with need.

He was still softening when you straddled him, and he looked at you with dazed, glassy eyes—eyes that screamed mercy.

But you were past hearing it.

“Fuck, I need you,” you rasped, nails digging into his chest as you guided him back to your soaked, pulsing heat. “I don’t care if you’re not ready. I can’t—I can’t wait anymore, Rafayel. I need to cum or I’m going to lose my fucking mind.” 

“I—I just came…and maybe, your pussy needs to—”

“I’ll make it fit,” you snapped, grinding his oversensitive cockhead through your swollen clit. His body tried to flinch away from the contact, but you caged him in—legs strong, body relentless—and pushed.

His mouth fell open in a silent moan, his whole frame spasming beneath you. “Oh God—it’s too much, I swear—”

You dropped onto him fully, hips slamming down as you bottomed out in one desperate stroke—not listening to what he was saying, driven by lust.

Even softening, his cock was stretching you full, he still reached deep. 

“Rafayel, babe—I need it,” you whimpered, already riding him, pace feral. “Need to cum sooo bad.”

Your cunt was making noises to the point of indecency, your juices squelching loud and obscene, splashing everywhere around you—on you. His hands gripped your hips weakly. 

“You’re milking me—I can’t, it hurts—please, fuck, I—oh fuck!”

“you’re gonna take it,” you snarled, sweat dripping down your temples, your ruined bikini top falling askew, tits bouncing with every thrust. “I want to cream on your cock, Rafayel. You want it too, right? Lemme pretty, be a good boy.”

His hips bucked up once, involuntarily, and you screamed—your clit grinding against his pelvis, your pussy fluttering, sucking him in deeper like your body knew nothing but this hunger now. 

With tears in his eyes, cock twitching helplessly inside you, he whispers “I’m gonna cum again—”

“Fucking do it,” you panted, riding him faster, rougher, losing all rhythm, chasing your orgasm like a woman possessed.

And no long after, you felt hot long ropes of cum filling your cunt, his fingers bruising your thighs as his eyes closed shut. Cumming harder than before, body completely at your mercy.

You followed seconds after, cunt spasming wildly around him, milking him through his own overstimulation. 

You collapsed forward, chest to chest, both of you soaked in sweat and cum.

𓂃۶ৎ ZAYNE

you squint at the red glow of the alarm clock on the nightstand.

4:00 am.

You stare at the ceiling like it might talk you down. It’s fine. One day. You can do it. You’re not a sex addict, right? One day is fine. 

You tell yourself that. Over and over. For over an hour now. Since you woke up, heart pounding hard against your ribcage, panties soaked. 

You’ve twisted in the sheets, rolled from side to side, trying to calm it, trying to wait it out. 

No use.

You sigh as your turn your head toward Zayne. You watch the slow raise and fall of his back as his breath steadily. He’s out cold, like someone completely exhausted can be. And you get it—he had a brutal shift at the hospital. He has… What? Twelve or thirteen hours on his feet? Probably more. And he’ll be up again in ninety minutes. 

He needs this sleep. 

But the way his back stretches in the moonlight, muscles taut and perfect like someone sculpted him out of sleep and sweat—it makes you ache. Makes your thighs clench. Makes patience feel like a joke.

He’s always giving so much. To his job, to everyone. Always putting in more than he has to. Always chasing better. And he deserves rest. He really does.

But unfortunately, there’s this pulse between your thighs, stubborn. A knot of need that won’t untangle. Your panties feel like a tease, there’re soaked to the point it feels like they’re mocking you for trying to be patient.

You turn toward Zayne once again. Your gaze shifting between the ceiling and him.

He hasn’t moved. His lips are parted just slightly, his skin’s warm under your fingertips as you brush his hip.

You bite your lower lip as you mentally curse yourself for what you’re about to do. 

You swloly slide closer to him, careful not to wake him up, your legs slips between his, and you press in, grinding your needy core against the strong curve of his thigh—it’s solid and so perfect… exactly what you desperately need.

You bite your lip, hard. It’s the only way to stop the sound that nearly escapes when your clit drags just right across his thigh.

His skin against yours, the faint scent of him clinging to the sheets, the little flex of his leg when he shifts ever so slightly in his sleep—it’s so freaking good.

There’s nothing cute or sweet with what you’re doing.

You’re rutting against your boyfriend’s sleeping body like some feral thing, chasing your orgasm in silence, praying he doesn’t wake up and see you like this—panting, wide-eyed.

You’re so wet it should be illegal—slick soaking through the lace, leaving his thigh all slicky with your arousal. 

Every roll of your hips sends sparks through your core, your face twists.

Stop. You should stop. Just go to the bathroom. Use your hand. 

But you can’t. even with all the will power of the world. 

You can’t.

His body, his warmth, his strength. There’s something so Zayne that only him can do.

Even if he doesn’t touch you back, even if he’s deep in some dream far away from you—you’re still losing your mind grinding on him. 

Quietly.

Your thighs tremble as the pressure builds, heat coiling low and tight, your body twitching for more, more, just a little more—

You bury your face in the pillow, teeth sinking in, trying to smother every sound.

You’re right there—hips twitching, whole body shivering around the friction, balancing on that thin, shaking edge. One more grind and—

“Mmh…” Zayne stirs, a low grunt rumbling from his chest as he moves, disoriented.

“what time is it…?”

Shit.

Heart in your throat, you stop moving entirely. 

Too drenched in need to think straight, too mortified to breathe.

You don’t say a word. Maybe he’ll roll over. With a bit of luck…maybe he won’t even notice.

His thigh flexes, your slick clings to his skin. And he goes still too.

A long pause.

“…are you grinding on me?” his voice is thick with sleep, raspy—making your clit throb. 

You press your face deeper into the pillow, cheeks burning, shame crawling down your spine. “I—I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I just...I couldn’t sleep.”

His gaze drops. To your hips. Then your ruined panties. His thigh wet with your arousal.and even though he looks like he’s still trying to process the image, his body reacts faster than his brain.

“Jesus.” he mutters, voice rougher. “…How long have you been doing this?”

“…a while.” You reply quietly.

That pulls a breathy, stunned laugh from his, still half-asleep but definitely hard. Zayne props himself up on one elbow, eyes adjusting, blinking—trying to pull himself out of the sleep.

“I tried not to wake you.”

He watches you for a long second, hair messy, “You were gonna cum on my thigh and not say a thing?”

You nod, barely, ashamed and aching.

“Fuck. You’re actually serious.” His hand reaches out, thumb brushing the curve of your tummy. “You needy little thing,” His lips twitch in a mean smile. Way too amused for someone who just woke up to his girlfriend fucking herself on him.

“You’re so fucked.” He drags the words out in that wrecked, sleepy voice of his—the one that send a shiver down your spine.

“Take ‘em off.” 

You blink.

He tapes your panties, eyes glinting. “Go on. Take those ruined little things off. Since you’re already this far.”

You hesitate, heart pounding.

“Aww, now you’re shy?” his tone turns sharp with mock sympathy as his golden eyes fix yours. His hands come to your hips, and he rips your panties off.

The sharp sting causing you to gasp. “Here we go…wasn’t that hard.”

 He leans in, breath warm against your cheek, that grin still curling his lips. “You gonna finish what you started?” he murmurs. “Gonna show me how bad you needed it? Since you couldn’t even wait for me to wake up?”

You can’t even answer—just a shaky whimper as you straddle him again, your body obeying even as it trembles, already too raw. Zayne leans back, propping himself up against the headboard, spreading his legs wide. “Atta girl,” His voice’s thick with sleep and arousal. “Show me.”

But the second you drop your full weight onto his thigh, your body jolts. Your hips twitch instead of rock, thighs squeezing as your head falls back in a helpless arc.

It’s too much.

You can’t move. Can’t even breathe right. The slick drag of skin-on-skin against your pulsing clit is sharp and unbearable—like pleasure and pain got tangled together and started burning.

Zayne notices instantly.

“Ohhh,” he breathes, tilting his head to the side, lip caught between his teeth. “You really were fucking losing it, huh?”

Your mouth falls open in a pretty O, eyes fluttering shut as he flexes his muscles under you. 

“Look at you,” he laughs softly, darkly, pressing a kiss to your jaw as his other hand threads into your hair and pulls—not hard, just enough to make your throat arch for him. “Fucked yourself out all alone, like a big girl. What, thought you’d just hump my leg and sneak off to sleep after?”

He kisses lower, breath brushing hot against your neck as his mouth drags over your skin. One hand grips your ass, the other holding your hair tight to keep your neck bared as he leaves kiss after kiss down the curve of it—open-mouthed and wet.

Every part of you is sensitive. Your cunt’s throbbing, leaking onto his thigh, your whole body barely stilling with every tiny shift of friction.

“Lemme take this off for you,” he whispers onto your collarbone, hands slipping beneath your shirt. “There we go… You feel much better like this don’t you?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He just smirks at the sight of your bare chest, nipples hardened and flushed, completely at his mercy.

He leans in, blows softly onto one—just enough to make you shiver—and the sensation shoots straight between your legs. You whimper, hips bucking as one of his hands returns to your waist, forcing you to grind your drenched pussy against the firm muscle of his thigh.

“Go on,” he murmurs, voice muffled as his mouth closes around your nipple. He nips at it, then sucks

“Be a good girl. Cum on me. I want you to make a mess on me.” he flexes his thigh just right beneath you and you can’t hold it anymore.

A loud moan escapes you as his teeth close again on your nipple, this time a slow aching chew—your body locks up—back arching, nails digging into his shoulders as you cry out. Your climax rips through you, messy and unrestrained. 

Before the tremor even leaves your body, he’s moving.

You feel his hands slide beneath your thighs—rough, commanding—and in a blur, you’re flipped onto your stomach, face buried into the pillows, ass lifted high.

You barely catch your breath before he’s behind you, spreading you open with no hesitation, breath hot, voice gone dark.

“You will take this like a good girl, ‘kay?” He murmurs, almost too gentle for how he manhandles you. He peppers kisses across your shoulders—probably apologizing in advance. 

His weight settles over you, chest pressing into your back, caging you between the mattress and his wide, unrelenting body. His hands keep your ass in the air, firm and unyielding, while his cock brushes teasingly against your soaked, oversensitive center.

“Gonna be a bit rough,” he warns, breath warm against your ear. “That okay with you?”

You whimper, nod, and he grins—low and sharp.

“Yeah… I know it is. You love being fucked like this. Like a dirty little whore.” He slaps your perfect little ass before adding, “Hold onto the pillows, love.”

And in one brutal push, he’s all the way in. his cock buries to the hilt, stretching you wide open, the sudden fullness knocking the breath from your lungs. His hips are flush to yours, pubic hair brushing your holes, his body locked tight against yours.

“Fuck!—Z-Zayne…’s lot—ah!—”

“That’s okay,” he pants, mouth at your neck—almost drooling over your skin. “You’re my strong girl. You can take it.”

And then he moves—thrusting into you like he’s lost to it, all control burned away. Each stroke is brutal, deep, precise, pounding you into the mattress with relentless force. The bed slams against the wall with every thrust, the headboard rattling loud enough to drown your cries.

He keeps you pinned, keeps your hips arched just right, locked in that perfect angle. All you can do is hold on—fingers twisting in the sheets, face pressed into the pillows, body trembling with the force of it all.

“’S right,” he rasps, pleasure thick in every breath, sweat sticking his chest to your back. He’s nearly gone, nearly forgetting he’s got to be up in less than an hour. “Takin’ this dick so damn well… you’re perfect.”

Your body responds on instinct—tightening around him, walls clenching like a vice. It hits him like a punch to the gut.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You whimper beneath him, nearly sobbing into the pillow. You can feel everything—every thick ridge, every puffy vein, the way his cock drags and stretches you just a little more with every deep thrust. It’s overwhelming. Too much. Not enough.

He hisses through his teeth, hips stuttering for half a second.

“Shit,” he grits out, golden eyes locked to where your bodies meet—where you’re dripping, splashing, making a soaked mess with every slam of his hips. “You tryin’ to choke my cock or somethin’, huh?”

His hands move from your hips until both palms are cupping your breasts. He squeezes onto the soft plush, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples as his thrusts keep slamming into you from behind—only to hear your pretty ‘Ah! Ah!’ followed with ‘Deeper Zayne!’

“Can’t stop clenching. So sensitive—these fuckin’ tits—” he groans again, rolling one nipple between his fingers. 

You arch into him, helpless. His cock driving into you, his hands pulling at your chest, his mouth licking your neck—all of him wrapped around you, inside you.

“Hold still,” he growls, voice barely human now, hips picking up pace, bed slamming again. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock with my hands all over you.”

𓂃۶ৎ SYLUS

“Again?” Sylus’s voice comes raspy, broken in the edge. 

“Pleaaaase,” you purr, letting the word rolls on your tongue, hands firmly pressed on his chest—pushing him against the cold wall.

His head falls back with a dull thud. “Kitten…” he breathes, his ruby eyes dropping to look at you as you press your body against his. “We’re on a mission… I don’t think that’s the moment—”

“You’re sweating,” you whisper, fingers dragging down his forehead, lips ghosting the corner of his jaw. “That’s not like you.” You’ve seen him calm in gunfire, unfazed in blood—it was uncharacteristically of him to have an uneven breath.

“I just think…” you trail off, rising onto your toes, mouth brushing his ear, “if we make it quick… no one has to know.” You bat your lashes, voice a soft, sultry question. You already know the answer. You know you got him wrapped around your finger. You only needed to find the right arguments. It was just a matter of seconds.

Sylus exhales hard through his nose, like it physically hurts to resist you. His jaw ticks.

“You’re insufferable.” He snaps as his hand fists in your shirt, dragging you down the hall without a word. 

You smile like crazy. He’s just so cute, isn’t he? 

You pass doors. Equipment crates. A stack of mission gear left behind. His body is tense, every step coiled like he’s keeping himself from pinning you to the wall right there and tearing into you in front of anyone who might walk past.

Once he finds a room, he shuts the door with his boot and pin you against it. Dim light filters through a single wall panel, dust swirls in the air, it’s abandoned, quiet and safe.

His hands cage your jaw, his forehead presses to yours. He's panting like he just fought someone off.

"You drive me insane," he growls.

“Is that so?” you blink up at him, biting the inside of your cheek to stifle the laugh. You play dumb, “didn’t notice.”

His hand shoots up, fisting the collar of your shirt. And before you can even gasp, his mouth crashes into your—bruising, teeth clicking, no space to breathe between the kiss and the punishment.

There’s nothing delicate.

His lips crush yours, dragging your bottom one between his teeth until you whimper. The heat of it stings the ache spreading deliciously down your spine. He kisses like’s he’s mad at you, mad at him for not knowing how to tell you ‘No’. 

And you kiss him back just as hard. Your fingers tangle in front of his shirt, twisting fabrics tight in your fists. One hand slip between your bodies, palming him through his pants firmly.

He jerks in your grip, groaning straight into your mouth. His hand flies to your hip, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise. The other grabs your wrist, stopping your hand mid-stroke.

“I don’t think I can cum.” His eyes are heavy-lidded when he looks at you. 

“As long as you can get hard,” You smirk, lips swollen and heart racing. “that’s all I need.”

With a growl, Sylus moves fast. He drags your pants down your legs with urgency. Your panties don’t stand a chance—he doesn’t even pull them off, just pushes them to the side, fingers grazing hot and rough against your soaked heat.

You’re already undoing his zipper, not bothering with finesse. His pants stay on, barely shoved down enough to free his cock, thick and flushed in your hand. 

He lifts you with no more ceremony, strong hands under your thighs then rapidly under your knees so your legs could rest on his wide shoulder. The position locks you open, exposed—your back pressed to the cold door, legs draped high and wide against his warm body.

His cock drags upward through your slick folds, heavy and hot, teasing that swollen ache with just enough pressure to make you whimper. The contrast of his warmth against the door’s chill makes your skin burn.

Teeth graze along your jaw, and his voice comes out low, “Gonna fuck you all nice and good, promise. Hold on tight.”

You don’t even realize you’ve grabbed two fistfuls of his white hair until he thrusts forward, so hard that your entire body tightens, already bracing for the stretch, the slam, the mess.

His forearms warp around your thick thighs, holding you in place with an iron grip as he piston into you. You’re suspended between the door and his chest, barely able to think—let alone speak.

When he moves it’s rough—slow but deep. The weight of his pants clings to his hips, the waistband scraping your thighs every time he thrusts in. 

His mushroom cock head kisses your cervix each time he brutally bottoms out, drawing a raw cry from your throat.

The sound of the scrape of wood behind you is almost louder than your own voice breaking. “Is this how you wanted it?” he rasps against your mouth, his breath hot, sharp. “On a mission—still begging to be stretched wide?”

Sweat beads at his temple. His jaw’s clenched. And all you can do is take it.

“Yes-Yes! Exactly…you’re so—oh shit!—good to me Sylus.” You pant, head hitting the door behind you as your eyes roll back. The way he’s still mostly dressed, the grind of fabric and heat—it's driving you to the edge faster than you’d admit. 

His jaw tightens when you yank on his hair again, and he groans—low and ragged. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple. He keeps you pinned high, panting into your neck as his pace builds—fast now, reckless. His gaze flickers down to the way you’re clinging around his length.

His arms flex with the effort. He resumes his pace to quick deep strokes. Wanting you to reach your orgasm.

“I—I think I’m going to cum dry...” he chokes out against your ear.

“That’s okay Sylus, j-just don’t stop—” You can feel his cock twitching violently against your gummy walls. 

“You feel so—so—fuck!” He drops your legs from his shoulders, almost trembling himself, he doesn’t let your feet hit the floor. He keeps you flush against the door, panting into your neck. 

His hips keep moving, slower but no less intense—the friction of your ruined panties, pressed awkwardly between you, makes everything more unbearable.

His hands slide under your thighs, lifting you again to tilt your hips, to find that devasting spot that has your vision white out at the edges.

“’m gonna cum, kitten—’m sorry—” he rasps. 

You feel the stuttering of his hips, the soft broken sound he makes into your shoulder as his body goes taut and shudders hard. What little he has left spills in weak, pulsing ropes.

But you? Sylus’s long fingers slip beneath what’s left of your panties, finding your clit instantly. He presses and flicks in quick, messy motions. He’s still coming from his high as your pussy paints his cock white.

^⌯𖥦⌯^੭  

[timmydraker]

Tim calls a family meeting and everyone is assuming he’s got a big case he needs help with, which is alarming for someone who refuses to admit that some cases are beyond him.

So, everyone shows up at the cave only to be ordered upstairs by Alfred. For those who only showed up to make fun of Tim for needing help, this is confusing because case work ain’t allowed upstairs.

All do them figure out quickly that this means it’s not to do with Gotham or Ref Robin, but the man behind the mask.

Bruce and Dick were there first and because Damian is always with one of them, so is he.

Steph picks up Barbara and Cass, with Duke already at home and Jason showing up at the same time as Kate and Lucius.

When they all get into the lounge room used for when people are over, just two doors down from the actual family room, they all find themselves chatting casually as they stave off their own worries or confusion. Some of them try find out if anyone knows what’s going on, but when Alfred and Barbara reveal they have no idea, they give up and make a few guesses but no more.

When Tim finally comes in after Alfred received him, he looks tired.

It’s not usual for Tim to get distracted with work and not sleep for a while, but he will conk out for hours when he decides to and wake up alright.

The bags under his eyes, the redness within them, and the way he looks close to tucking himself into a ball…

Bruce is immediately leaning forward, opening his mouth to make sure his son is okay but Tim just raised a hand to silence him. “Just… just let me speak, okay? I need to do it now or I’m not going to be able to.”

Everyone gives him a nod or look of understanding, making him twitch a smile before inhaling deeply and psyching himself up.

“I have cancer.”

…

Nobody speaks as Tim exhales shakily.

Everyone is staring wide eyed at the young man before them, who just reached the legal drinking age, and trying to asses his physical form for an understanding of what he just said. They’re all trying to gain X-ray vision to see exactly what is hurting him all while trying to convince themselves they heard him wrong.

Tim closes his eyes and speaks automatically, leaning into facts like he always does when he’s freaking out, “I noticed I was getting by more tired and fatigued around last year. My doctor said I have a low white cell count but he wasn’t alarmed as it was still in the normal range. But a few months ago I started to note that bruises were taking far too long to heal and I was getting a lot of pain around my joints and bones.”

He inhaled again, shakier than before at the same time that Alfred sits himself down with a hand over his mouth.

“It’s stage 2 and because of my lack of a spleen it’s going to be a harder process for treatment but fortunately I own a medical company so there’s that at least.” He makes a sort of joking smile that falters immediately, falling into a pulled back frown that comes with someone whose about to sob as he adds, “But it’s also aggressive so I-I don’t know how-how to-fuck-“

Dick and Cass are immediately moving off the couches they are on and catch him as he finally crumbles into himself.

Bruce is next to follow, the stoic man openly crying for the first time in years.

Jason and Damian are in shock, both frozen in place as dread takes over their minds.

Steph is looking out the window, as if staring at some kind of his or deity and demanding an expiration as to why they have to hurt her loved ones so badly. She’s crying, but it’s silent which is all the more harrowing.

Lucius places a hand on Alfred’s shoulder to comfort the elder even as he himself itches to go comfort the young boy who helped him run the company when he was at his worst.

Kate leaves the room to go call Bette, needing her mentor because this is just something she can’t handle.

Duke is sobbing into his hands as he leans into Barbara’s lap. Barbara who is clinging to him like a lifeline as she feels her world shift once again, feeling so angry and confused at how one of them could be threatened like this. Of all the ways they could go out, was it really going to be cancer?

It was a harrowing experience for all of them to remember that they were human in more than just their flesh being able to bleed and be wounded, but for it to grow sick. For it to age and attack itself.

They were human at the end of the day and Tim…

In Metropolis, Clark Kent rushed into the bathroom at his work to throw up as he heard a conversation miles away.

[witchslove]

Reader and Wanda being fuck buddies for months, but have a rule where they don't kiss or cuddle in order to make sure they don't catch feelings. Spoiler alert, they do. After one encounter where one of them gets jealous. They started having sex that begins with them being feral and eventually rolls into love making where they confess their feelings for one another. Followed by a long overdue cuddle session.

I love this idea, I love the “strictly friends with benefits” to catching feelings pipeline, definitely one of my fave tropes.

You and Wanda are regularly sleeping together, but that’s all it is. The two of you agreed on three rules before you started - no kissing, no cuddling, and no catching feelings for each other.

It isn’t until Vision openly flirts with Wanda in front of you that you realize you’ve already broken the most important rule. For a while now, you’ve been pushing down your feelings for the brunette, telling yourself that the sex is just really good and it’s nothing more than that.

Ever since the feelings started, you’ve been able to convince yourself that you don’t actually need anything more than what the arrangement provides. You’ve done your best to ignore the urge to kiss her when you’re deep inside of her, and the desire to hold her after you’ve made her cum.

You haven’t broken any rules.

Until now.

When you overheard Vision telling Wanda she’s beautiful and offering to help her cook, you can’t help but feel jealous. When he stands beside her in the kitchen, reaching his arm around her to grab something, his fingers brushing against hers in the process, you know you can’t ignore your feelings any longer.

You scold yourself for wanting to be in his place, for wanting the one person in the world you can’t have. As much as you wish you could continue denying your feelings, as much as you wish you could ignore the burning in your heart, you can’t.

The jealousy wins over any rational thought in your mind, and when you see Wanda making her way back to her room alone, you corner her.

“What was that about?” You ask, getting straight to the point.

“What was what-” Wanda begins to ask, before you interrupt her.

“You and Vision seem close,” you say sharply, your voice laced with jealousy that you hope she doesn’t pick up on, but you’re also too far gone to care.

“So?” She replies nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow at you as she reaches the door to her room. Her apathetic response only fuels the fire within you and she notices the hardened expression on your face, the anger behind your dilated pupils. The desire in your eyes whenever you look at her, the same desire she sees now, never fails to get her worked up, but she pushes that aside to remind you of the rules.

“Vision and I are just friends, not that it matters though. It’s not like you and I are together, remember?” She says harshly, crossing her arms.

“I remember,” you respond, clenching your jaw. “It’s just sex, right?”

While she usually takes on a more dominant role when she’s with you, Wanda can’t help but feel intimidated under your intense gaze as she nods in response.

“So let me fuck you then,” you say decidedly, your eyes still locked on hers.

Wanda’s slightly taken aback; she’s never seen you be so assertive with her, but she can’t deny that it turns her on. Without another word, she opens the door to her room and pulls you in with her, immediately letting you to pin her against it once you’re inside.

You don’t waste any time, hastily removing her shirt and bra before taking one of her nipples into your mouth. Wanda moans softly at the contact, her hands finding the back of your head to guide your movements.

You lick and suck at the hardened bud as your other hand comes up to palm at her neglected breast, working her up expertly the way only you can.

When Wanda bucks her hips in search of friction, you pick her up and carry her to the bed, laying her down against the sheets you’ve become so familiar with and crawling on top of her. You look down at her for a moment, soaking in the sight of her beneath you, panting with arousal. She looks so beautiful laid out for you, lips parted and green eyes practically begging you to fuck her.

Before you can get lost in your feelings, your hands find their way under her skirt, fingertips grazing the front of her panties. You smirk when you can feel how soaked she is through the fabric, knowing only you can make her this wet.

For a second, the thought of Vision being the cause of her arousal flashes through your mind and reignites your jealousy.

You quickly shake the thought from your mind and yank her panties down her legs, pulling at the fabric almost desperately. You bring a hand up to cup her dripping pussy, this time with no barriers between you.

She moans when you slide two fingers inside of her, her walls clenching around your digits as you start fucking them into her. Your pace isn't soft or slow, you're far too desperate to see her cum for you, to claim her in the only way you can.

“Fuck, so good,” Wanda moans, her head thrown back against the pillow as you watch, getting off on the sight of her in the throes of pleasure. You curl your fingers and she whimpers, growing wetter under your touch. Your thumb finds its way to her clit, rubbing the swollen bud and making her arch her back with a groan.

"I'm close," Wanda says breathily in between moans, her hips meeting your thrusts almost as desperately as your fingers move inside of her.

"You wanna cum for me?" You ask, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, please," Wanda begs, her nails digging into your back as she nears her peak.

"Say you're mine," you demand without thinking straight, your eyes locked on her face, anticipating her reaction to your words. "Say you're mine and you can cum."

"Fuck," Wanda gasps, her pussy tightening around your fingers. You smirk at how her body responded to your request. "I'm yours," she breathes out, her arms wrapped around you pulling you in closer. "I'm yours, please."

"Cum for me." With that, the tight coil within Wanda snaps and she bucks her hips up sharply, a guttural moan leaving her lips as she falls apart for you. Her eyebrows are furrowed, her mouth hung open in pleasure as heavenly sounds escape her, and you can feel her walls spasming around you as she rides out her intense orgasm.

Seeing Wanda cum is one of your favorite things in the world, the way she looks when she gets off, the sounds she makes as pleasure racks her body, the way she practically rides your fingers even from underneath you. You briefly think that you could never tire of making this woman fall apart for you, that you could do it for the rest of your life and never want to miss a second of it.

In that moment, you can't help yourself. You lean down to capture her lips with your own, kissing her as she moans into your mouth. What really surprises you is how she kisses you back, her lips moving against yours tenderly, making your head spin.

Kissing Wanda is everything you imagined and more. It feels so right, you almost forget how wrong it is. The rules of your arrangement are the last thing on your mind as she hums into your mouth, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek as she kisses you. You pull away first, not wanting to take more than she's willing to give, despite feeling like you already have.

When she finally comes down from reaching her peak, she opens her eyes, looking up at you with darkened eyes and a lazy smirk on her face. It turns you on even more, the smugness in her expression, and you feel yourself blushing, fighting the urge to look away.

"That was something," she says teasingly and you groan, feeling slightly ashamed at how caught up in the moment you were.

"Don't flatter yourself," you mumble, trying to save face.

As if she can sense your embarrassment, Wanda gives you an out. "You just wanted to feel like you were in control, huh?" She coos, fake pouting as she brushes a strand of hair out of your face. "How cute."

You want nothing more than to shut her up with your lips on hers again, but you hold back, not wanting to break the rules beyond what's already been done.

You pin her wrists above her head in an attempt to regain some kind of control over the situation. There's a flash of something in Wanda's eyes, something unreadable, and before you can determine what it is, she's flipping you over onto your back.

"Uh uh. You've had your fun, it's my turn," she says, straddling your waist, and you can't help but look her over when she's giving you such a delicious view of her naked body in your lap. "You want to be good for me, baby?"

You nod, feeling almost pathetic at how easy it is for her to take back control over you. She moves up your body so her pussy is inches from your face. "Then open your mouth detka," she orders, so close you can smell her arousal, and it drives you crazy. "Make me feel good with that pretty mouth of yours."

You don't need to be told twice, pulling her hips down to meet your mouth, licking a stripe up her pussy before latching onto her clit. You eat her out like a woman starved and you don't stop until she's cum so many times she can't take any more.

When she collapses beside you in the bed, she falls into your hold and you wrap your arm around her without a second thought, keeping her close as she catches her breath. She's too tired to tell you to move away, to leave her room like you usually do when you're done fucking her silly.

You're both aware that you're breaking another rule, but it feels so good, so comforting and warm, that neither of you can find it in you to care. Within minutes, Wanda falls asleep in your arms, and you cherish the feeling of her pressed up against you so intimately, knowing that you may never get this opportunity again.

The next morning, you wake up first, making sure to leave before she stirs and finds you still in her bed. You pull the blankets over her sleeping form, taking a moment to admire her before you reluctantly exit the room.

The sex changes after that; you start staying over more, holding her close after fucking her for hours, kissing her lips to muffle her moans and shut her up when she's teasing you with her smart mouth. You're always gone before she wakes up, scared of how she might act once her high has worn off, worried that once the moment is over, she'll tell you to leave or somehow make you feel bad about breaking the rules.

But she never does bring up the rules, nor does she ever stop you from breaking them. If anything, she kisses you back just as passionately each time and presses her body back against you in the bed as if she's trying to get impossibly closer to you. She tells you she's yours when she's about to cum and she smiles when you whisper "that's right, you're mine" into her hair as you bring her pleasure.

Vision continues to flirt with Wanda and your jealousy doesn't waiver. It isn't until he asks her out on a date that you finally confess your feelings for the brunette, telling her everything you've been holding inside for so long.

You find out from Steve that Vision asked Wanda out and your heart sinks, all you can think is that you hope she said no. You get up from the couch without another word, making your way to Wanda's room, emotions high and clouding any judgment.

You knock on the door and when she opens it, you don't give her any time to greet you first. "Don't go on that date," you blurt out, looking her in the eyes as you speak.

"What are you-" she starts, but you cut her off.

"I heard about Vision. He asked you out right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Don't go out with him," you interrupt again, searching her face for any indication that she might've said yes to the date.

"Why not?" She asks, but something tells you she already knows the reason.

"Because I..." you trail off, working up the courage to tell her the truth. "Because it's me you should be going out with instead, not him," you say quietly, as if you're ashamed of the words coming out of your mouth, as if you feel bad for feeling the way you do for the woman in front of you.

When she doesn't respond, you elaborate. "I like you Wanda, and I'm sorry for breaking the most important rule but it's not like we haven't broken all the others already. I can't help how I feel about you, but if I'm not reading things wrong, I think you like me too," you rush out, holding your breath as you wait for her to say something back.

A soft smile graces her features. "You're not reading things wrong," she says simply, and that's all you need.

You smile before breaking the distance between you, your lips meeting hers in a passionate embrace, pouring all of your feelings into the kiss. You manage to close the door behind you without separating from her and pin her against it, swallowing the whimper she lets out at the feeling of being pushed back against the hard surface.

That night, you don't fuck her.

When you carry her to the bed, you touch her intimately, you bring her pleasure, you make her come undone for you, but it isn’t just sex anymore. You make love to her, no longer hiding your feelings, no longer wondering if she feels the same way.

And the next morning, when you wake up in Wanda’s bed with her curled up against you, you don’t leave.

[rixsjwb]

MY ROOMIEㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ suguru geto x fem!reader

roomie geto who would always wake up before you, wearing his baggy grey sweats with a tight t shirt gripping his well built body. sometimes on facetime with satoru talking about literally anything as he eats his breakfast.

"Your roomie awake yet? still sleepin' her head off?" the speaker blared. suguru shifts his phone so the camera would catch your face in view, you stare at the phone groggily, your hand itching your stomach which revealed abit of your middriff. but you didnt seem to care, gojo lets out a cheerful greeting at this early time asking you typical question like 'how are you?' and throwing in occasional flirting that you didn't really register due to lingering sleepiness.

you stand up from your seated position next to suguru at the dining table, as suguru munches on the fruits his eyes drag over your body as you stretch. a tattoo peaking from just under your shorts, causing suguru to graze his finger over it. lightly tugging your shorts down to see the tattoo. "getting worked up this early in the morning suguru?" satoru teases with his charming smirk. his camera catching his face as he seams to be lying down shirtless in bed.

"no, s'just curious." he says withdrawing his fingers, he watches as you look around cluelessly, causing a slight chuckle to slip from his baritone voice. his hand snaking around your waist pulling you closer to his body. positioning the camera back to him witch also catches you leaning into sugurus soft touch.

"pretty y/n looks tired." satoru says his keen eyes staring at you through the camera. watching as you rub your eyes underneath your glasses aggressively. before reaching over the phone to grab something. the camera doesn't fail to pick up your breast spilling from your low cut tank top and in your drowsy state you don't even realize what your doing.

suguru notices this and can smell from a mile away a cheeky remark satorus gonna day, "don't even say it." suguru says a smile, breaking out onto his tired yet handsome face, watching as satorus face breaks into airy laughter. "I wasn't gonna say anything!" satoru says, rolling his eyes. Both him and suguru know he was gonna say something to ruin the intimate yet tranquil mood that was going on. so it was better left unsaid.

roomie geto who always refill things without your knowledge, you could run out of your favorite moisturizer and suddenly it feels shallow and empty to heavy and full. and you'd always ask if he bought it but he's so good at gaslighting and manipulating you into thinking it was always full.

your current moisturize had been full for the past 2 months, and you're starting to think you're going insane.

every time you try to recall going out to buy one or even a bunch, it never comes to mind. and here you are making your way to the bathroom, taking your glasses off being met with blurry vision but still able to see, you go in to grab your moisturizer that had been pretty much empty since yesterday. fully expecting the container to feel light but taken aback when it feels heavy yet again.

you screw open the cap to be met with a brand new looking moisturizer and your quick to confront your roomie about it.

"suguru, did you buy me a new moisturizer?" " nuh uh, didn't you buy yourself one like a couple days or weeks ago?" he questioned and you actually start to think about it, but every day is just as blurry as your vision so you genuinely have no idea. you watch as suguru continues scrolling on his phone not at all phased at your question.

and you start to question if you have dementia. because you have so little memory of what you did this week, you cant press him any further so you reside to the bathroom as you continue to ponder on how your moisturizer suddenly just regenerates its product again along with your favorite snacks suddenly being refilled, too.

roomie suguru who's whipped for your touch and melts innit.

being in close contact with you is something suguru loves, taking pictures with the friend group he automatically moves over to you so he can slip his hand around your waist and get a whiff of your sweet natural perfume. which sends heat into his pants. feeling your plush breast push against his chest makes him feel like a shy boy, suddenly reduced to a stuttering and jittery mess.

when taking pictures with you he doesn't even know where to put his hands anymore, and making eye contact with you just worsens everything.

you're just as calm as him,aloft and more composed, yet he's losing his shit over a girl around the same age as him. whether it's you doing simple tasks like reaching over him to get something, the arch of your back just hovering over his lap as he gets a whiff of your scent. and how close the curve of your ass is to his body.

he has to use his hands to gently push down on your plush hips to sit down while he gets what you need before you notice the growing bulge in his heavenly gray sweat pants.

any chance he gets, to lay his head on your stomach, breast, lap he'll take it.

roomie geto who goes on regular bike rides with his friends and alone and always asks you if you'd like to come.

the first time you found out suguru had a bike was when you were sitting outside on a sunny day enjoying the vitamin d from the sun while scrolling on your phone outside of the building complex you and suguru live in. you're listening to music as you play with the ruffles on your tank top before staring at your cargo shorts while ajusting your hair curling inwards to your face.

but your trance was snapped out of when you heard loud revving of a car or bike nearing. at first you were annoyed because it's irritating hearing cars revv their loud engines in a quiet residential neighborhood. but when you see 2 bikers pull up one biker accented with blue and the other completely black you noticed their sature looked familiar.

as the man on the black bike hits the stand up on the bike before turning the ignition off. he hops off the bike seemingly typing something on his phone.

the other one on the blue bike was goofing off laying on his bike like it was a bed, before his head flicks in your direction. he lightly revs his bike which catches your attention as he waves you over lifting his viser up and your met with all too familiar cerulean blue eyes.

you stand up heading closer to the 2, before being engulfed in a hug by satoru. "I didn't know you rode a bike." your voice flowing like the wind soft yet velvety at the same time. "you tryna go f'a ride?" satoru says excitedly as he adjust his seating on the bike, moving back more so you can sit in his lap. you lightly slap his hand at his insinuation before turning to face the all black biker.

his viser now up and you're met with familiar purple eyes, "suguru." you say before giving him a hug for a greeting. his hands automatically wraps around your waist. "I sent you a message, wanna go on a ride?" he says his eyes crinkle hinting a smiles on his face. you don't reject the offer as you wait along side satoru while sugurus fetched for a bike helmet.

satoru kept you close his hand over your shoulder, while he had conversation with you. and when suguru came back he was quick to help you put it on. buckling the strap underneath. and knocking on your helmet to ensure it's sturdiness, and just like that off you go!

roomie suguru who sometimes suffers from nightmares and tends to stay up at ungodly hours, because he can't find himself wanting to go back to sleep.

you've never caught suguru up at an ungodly hour because you were already dead asleep. but due to your now heavy schedule at college, you'd end up waking at 5 am still night preparing for a class.

you'd always see the tiredness in sugurus eyes, bags showing how much sleeps he's missed out on.

as you get ready after taking a shower, you leave your room, heading to the kitchen that was completely dark, but because you're still abit tired you sluggishly move through the dark clumsily before finding a light switch. when you turn it on, you jump back startled by suguru sitting on the couch manspread as his head is thrown back.

he seemed still for a second before his head lifts making eye contact with you. your quick to come by his side wondering why he'd ever be awake at this time. "shouldn't you be asleep?" you ask sitting down next to him.

"m'yea but can't." he says wryly. you stare at him with concern in your eyes. your hand coming to caresse his arm to sooth him."do you want tea maybe? it could maybe help with your sleep." you say not even sure about your own words, but suguru doesn't answer his eyes closed like he's resting them.

you rise from your seat eventually packing your stuff, and once you were ready it was 5:46 am you still have time to eat breakfast so you cut up some fruits to munch on before coming back to meet suguru on the couch with a hot brewed tea in your left hand.

you place the plate down as quietly as possible before gently shaking suguru to open his eyes, giving him the tea which seems to calm his nerves.

"do you wanna talk about it?" you watch suguru as he takes a small sip of the tea before placing it down. suguru's heart melts at your question, you're to sweet for your own good. "just had a nightmare" he says plain and simple.

you grab the plate of fruits eating them one by one as you rest your head against sugurus shoulder and as time flows you feel his head limp right onto yours. when the clock hit 6:30 you carefully slipped out of his grasp before grabbing your bag and headphones. you grab a blanket nearby, throwing it over sugurus body, fluffing a pillow so his head could rest on it before you took your leave.

roomie suguru who enjoys your cooking so much, that he craves it like a pregnant woman craves food

sugurus not sure what you're cooking, but it smells good enough to lure him out of his room. he chats with his friends on facetime as he sits at the dining table with the perfect view of you in his sight. he watches as you move throughout the kitchen, putting and taking stuff off the shelves.

he could tell the dish is definitely not a Japanese dish.

"not gonna lie. Your roommate is a pretty girl, suguru." toji says blatantly on call. "I agree with toji. she's hot as fuck! I never thought I'd be into girls with calm and aloof personalities. and her glasses just makes her the more attractive!" satoru says shamelessly letting out a moan as a joke as he moves around his house ploping on the couch. suguru sends satoru a dirty look causing satoru to cackle like a maniac.

sugurus holds back a scoff before he answer. "you'k she's right here right?" he says showing you in view. you top the pot with a lid to let the food simmer before coming over to suguru to say hi to a couple of his friends.

"hi toji, hi guys" you say, waving to the camera. you seemed almost bashful at their comments, which was pretty rare considering you always have this reserved personality. "y/n, I love you! mwa mwa!" satoru kisses his phone repeatedly as you come in view. causing you to laugh at his antics.

"Hi sukuna," you say, remembering his face from one of your classes, "Hello, woman." "That's not how you talk to a lady!" yuji is heard from chosos phone. "You have the brat with you, choso?" sukuna asks gruffly, staring at choso through the corner of his phone, eventually seeing the salmon haired brat.

you take a sip of cold water as you listen to the conversation everyone has on the phone. but sugurus gaze seemed fixated on you.

"suguruuu! should I host a party? maybe toji and sukuna can finally get some bitches." "suck my dick you albino bitch" sukuna says aggressively. before toji speaks up "aren't you a virgin?" and eventually the call goes crazy with satoru, toji and sukuna arguing with one another you briefly see nanami join the call for 5 seconds before he leaves, shoko coming back into the cameras view. you wave towards her in the mist of the argument.

you eventually leave to go check on the food which was done from how most of the liquid had evaporated from the rice yet still enough to make it soft and moist to eat. you plate the brown rice and chicken on the plate for both you and suguru adding some pickled cucumber on the side with a small salad.

turning off the stove top you check the cookies you were baking that almost looked ready, grabbing a knife to poke into it seeing very little batter on the knife before closing the oven.

you hand suguru his plate before putting yours down, getting cups to poor some juice into, handing sugurus his cup while taking a sip of yours.

you watch as sugurus head subconsciously nods up and down almost like he's aproving how tasty your food is, letting out a hum of delight. suguru ends the rowdy call before powering off his phone to enjoy his meal in peace. to say this was the best meal of his college life, it is the best.

"what is this?" he asked curiously still taking bites of the food. "it's called pelau my mother always made it for me when she felt like cooking for little."

suguru would for sure continue buying ingredients for the house just so he can try the multitude of dishes you have in store.

[count-on-mi]

AU Twice IS Side Story “Interview” (Twice Mina)

‘Thank you, Miss Kwon, today’s interview is over. Thanks for coming. Honestly, you have a really high chance to be employed.’ You stand up and offer your hands for shaking.

‘Thanks, Mr. Y/N, just call me Eunbi, I am looking forward to work with you too.’ Eunbi shakes her hand with you, you can feel her finger is flirting your palm, you two just smile before you sending her out. ‘It’s going to have so much fun.’ You talk to yourself.

As your original secretary has resigned, you are now employing a new one to replace her, among all the shortlist candidates, Eunbi is the most suitable, she is experienced, have a high ability on working, of course her big tits are another bonus point for you to consider hiring her.

‘Boss, the last interviewee is here, should I invite her in?’ Your subordinate Sana calls you through the extension.

‘No, Sana, you can let her go. I think Eunbi, no, Miss Kwon would be the most suitable candidates. You can also contact HR for drafting the contract, thanks Sana.’

‘Sorry, you can’t come in…’ You hear some noise outside, You stand up to see what is happening. The door is opened, Sana and a pretty woman enters your room. ‘Sorry, boss, the interviewee desperately wants to enter your room, I can’t stop her.’

‘Please Mr. Y/N, please at least give me a chance.’ You turn around to look at the interviewee, a pretty woman, much younger than Eunbi, although her tits are much smaller, her bodies is hotter, especially her ass, it’s so big that you want to spank it hardly. The interviewee blushes when she see you are scanning her body.

‘Take a seat, madam. You have earned your chance, I will give you five minutes to convince me.; You sit down and signal Sana to leave your room.

Thank you, Sir. I am… I am Myoui Mina, you can call me Mina or Minari, I am a Japanese and a fresh graduate from University of…’ You feels so fun so you just interrupt her, ‘Sorry Miss Mina, sorry to interrupt, but isn’t the things you mentioned all included in your resume? May I see it first? Remember you only have 5 minutes, take your time.

‘Oh, yes, sorry Mr. Here’s my CV, ah… Sorry.’ Mina take the documents from her bag, but she is too nervous, and she just falls all her documents on the ground. She seems panic and immediately kneels down to pick up the document.  ‘Sorry, Mr., sorry Mr.’ Mina keep saying sorry. At your vision, you can see Mina’ ass arcs up as she is crawling on the ground. ‘Wow, such a great ass.’ You talk to yourself in mind, you can even see her pants in the dress, you feel your cock starts to erect, perhaps you just do not have sex with your girlfriend Nayeon for too long, the sight of Mina’s ass and pants make you feel horny, you start imaging how would her pussy look like.

You untied your belt and slowly started jerking yourself under the table while enjoying the view. Mina is different form all the girls you have hooked up with, She is very innocent but having a hot body. Your balance in your hearts slowly turn towards Mina. You are still masturbating while Mina is presenting herself, her innocence makes you turned on. You moan her name lightly, imaging her serving you under the table.

Mina witness your face change to red so quickly, and hear you keep saying her name. ‘Sorry, boss, did Minari doing something wrong, please give me a chance. I need this job, I don’t want to back to Japan.’ Mina is so worried and she stands up and walk towards your seat.

‘No, Mina, sit down, don’t get that close…’ You already near your orgasm, so your hands stroking faster and faster, not wanting to stop.’ Mina stands from her seat.

You heart nearly pop out of your heart when Mina is approaching you. You consider to stop but the way Mina leans over toward you make you feel like she’s the one that stroking you. You stares on her exposed cleavage as she bends down.

‘Please stop staring me so intently, Mr...’ Mina blushes and turns her head down. ‘You think I am really good looking?’

Seeing Mina has overcome her shyness, you are more excited, you want to see how the innocent girl would reacts, your hand strokes faster, your sight fallen in Mina’s cleavage, you feel your cock starts to throb, you need to release it desperately.

‘What are you hiding under the table, Mr. Is it other candidate’s resume? Mina walks towards you and grabs the handle of your chair, she wanna check what you are hiding. Mina’s breast is now right in front of you face, you can smell the scent of her perfume.

Mina finally discovered that you are masturbating to her, she wanna push your chair back, but it’s just too late, you reach your orgasm and thrust your hips, you cum waves of cum on her clothes.

You two stare at each other, don’t know what you can say.

‘What did you just do to me, Mr. It’s… It’s all over me, oy my god.’

‘Ok, Mina, let’s calm down, I should clean it up first, you can do it Mina.’ Mina cleans her finger before grabs a tissue box and kneels down in front of you. Mina starts to clean you still erected cock with the tissue, your cock twitches when she is stroking you.

‘Can you stop moving, Sir?’ Mina seems frustrated that you cock keep twitching in her hand.

‘It’s a part of test for the interview, let me see how you can do it.’ You tease her and just sit on your chair, let her clean your cock.

Mina thinks a while, them she use another hand to grab you base, squeezing it lightly, make sure it don’t move anymore. Meanwhile, Mina is still stroking your cock with tissue, wanting to clean you completely. Your cock is still sensitive from the previous orgasm, the sensation is so good, you feel another wave of pleasure is building.

You can’t hold on anymore, so you let the pleasure overtakes you and you cum in her hand again. ‘Ah, Mina, you are doing a good job.’ You thrust in her palms, aiming for extend your orgasm.

‘Again, why would you cum before I clean you properly? Is it all of them?’ Mina blushes again and stop stroking you, she cleans her fingers and then stand up, unsure what she should do.

You keep turned on by Mina’s innocence, you decide that she is the most suitable choice as your secretary, you already forgot about Eunbi’ s large breast, it is not hard to find a secretary with great body, it is much more hard to find a totally untrained young lady, it is an achievement that you can train a young lady to your plaything.

You stand up and grab her arms, ‘Mina, if you want to get the job, there is one more test for you, ready?’ You slowly guide her lay on your table. ‘A secretary need to help the boss to ease his stress away.’ You guide her hands to your still harden cock, ‘Can you feel how much stress I am having? It’s time for you to do the duty.’ You smirks and start rubbing her clit with your cock.

‘I don’t know how to do it, sir. Ah…, it feels so strange. Ah…’ Mina moans slightly and hide her head on your shoulder. You feel her pussy starts to get wet, you align your cock and ready to thrust in. “Just let me do it, relax, Mina, is it your first time?’

Mina shyly nods, ‘ Yes, sir, please be gentle… Ah’ Mina stops as your assault her, you thrust all in and your break her hymen. ‘Ah, stop, boss, pull out, it’s so pain, pull out!’ You ignores Mina and gently kissing her, you hands slightly play with her nipples, distracting her pain and allow her to adjust cock.

‘Ah, it feels so strange, I don’t know how to explain it… Ah…’ Seeing Mina is ready, you pull out and thrust in again. ‘Ah, what is this feeling.. Faster Sir, it feels so good.’ You stop again, and teasing her.

‘Why do you stop, its feeling good, please continue.’ Seeing Mina is addicted to your cock, you are satisfied. ‘Is little Mina wanting boss’s cock, does Mina wants to be Boss’s secretary.’

‘Yes, boss, please give it to me, Mina always belongs to Boss.’ Waiting for this answer for a long time, you start fucking Mina again. ‘Ah, yes, boss, Minari is so full. Minari loves your cock so much.’ Mina moans loudly as you fuck her real quick.

‘No, boss, please stop… Mina is going to pee, No, no!’ Mina soon reaches her first orgasm of her life. Her walls tightly wrapping you, you are struggle to thrust in, but you do not stop, you keep fucking her, chasing your own orgasm. You thrust all in hardly, and you feels like you have entered the entrance of her womb, the suction is much more strong compared to her pussy. You can’t hold on anymore, and cum all of your cum in her womb. ‘Mina take it all, be Mine!’ You moan loudly when you cum in her.

‘Yes, Boss, Minari will always be yours…” Mina hugs you tightly when she reaches her second orgasm. You pull out and see a mixture of white and red dripping from her pussy, you took her virginity.

‘Yes, yes, Eunbi is no longer a suitable candidate, I have decided to hire Myoui Mina. Ah… Yes, please help me for the documentation works. Thanks Sana.’ You end the call, and looks at Mina under your table who is giving you a blow job. ‘No, Mina, use your tongue, not your teeth.’

‘Sorry, boss, I will do better next time.’ Seeing Mina’s innocent face, you are turned on again, you put her on your table and start fuck her again. ‘Maybe I should train your another lips first, Mina.’

‘As your wish, boss, please use Minari as you want.’ Mina starts moaning again.

[lacedwithmsg]

molded | nakakita yuma | smut

tags: soft dom!yuma, afab reader, use of pronouns "she/her" when referring to reader, creampie, a bit of mirror fucking, some overstimulation, yuma is also the neediest puppy alive warning tags: sleep sex/somnophilia (yuma fucks reader while they are initially asleep) length: 1.6k words note from author: have had this idea floating around in my head for a bit now. originally part of a larger scenario but decided short and concise was probably better. proofread once or twice, not sure if it's completely error-free but we do what we can.

“I told you,” Yuma mumbled into your neck as he snaked his arms around you, pulling you against his warm body. The cold night air washed over your exposed skin while the blanket you and Yuma shared held the both of you closer together. He had been inside you since a couple hours ago after you insisted that keeping it inside would ensure neither your or his juices would escape. You hadn't woken up yet, both body and mind tired after the long session you already had with Yuma.

filth begins after the break

Without realizing it himself, his body was already moving against yours. Contradicting his own expectations, he was actually able to fall asleep earlier. But of course, there was no way he could maintain that for the entire night. Your slightly sweaty yet sweet scent filled his nose and he wanted nothing more than to breathe it in for as long as he could. Your warm skin under his fingertips felt soft and comforting, and the way your chest slowly rose and fell was mesmerizing to him. Growing ever more daring, Yuma started to snap his hips into you, the blanket the covered your bare bodies shifting along with him.

“I told you this would've happened, but pretty little baby didn’t let me pull out,” Yuma mumbled, now leaving small nips and pecks along the back of your neck. Despite stirring a little in your sleep, he was shocked to find you still well asleep. Being the little shit he is, he was now determined to find out just how far he could go before you finally woke up.

Looking over your shoulder and in the mirror on wall, his eyes drifted from the soft furrow in your eyebrows to the way your lips lay delicately open, from the slight angle of your neck as your head sunk into the pillow to the red marks he had left littered all over your chest and collar. He brought one of his hands up, following the soft, natural curves of your body before reaching the cusp right where your stomach stopped and your boobs began.

“You’re so pretty like this, y’know?” His hips were now picking up pace, a quiet sound of skin against skin escaping from under the blanket. His fingers dug into your skin but he was still careful not to wake you. His breaths, now much shallower than they were a couple moments ago, felt warm against your neck.

Yuma had the world in his arms and he couldn’t help but indulge in all that it had to offer. He traced his lips along your neck, stopping to nibble at your earlobe. His eyes were glued onto the reflection of your face in the mirror, thinking about how you would react when you finally opened those pretty eyes of yours.

His other hand wrapped around your stomach ever tighter, molding your body into his. Every inch of your back was pressed up against Yuma’s chest as he grinded and pushed into you. He savored each and every thrust as he started losing his grasp on his own mind.

“You drive me fucking insane, baby.”

Yuma decided it was time to begin for real and started thrusting up into you with such force that surely would’ve woken you up. As if he were a dog in heat, deep growls came from the back of his throat, laced with raspy pants that escaped every time he pushed back inside. The dark strands of his hair obstructed his vision as droplets of sweat formed and crawled down his temple. The blanket began to crease and reveal more of your bodies to the cold air.

His teeth landed decisively into the skin on your shoulder as he tried to gag himself from getting too loud. The way you smelled, the way you felt, the way you tasted all blended together in his head into a form of ecstasy he could never get tired of. His hips rammed against your ass with a goal, a goal to make you his once more.

Over and over again his cock brushed and bruised against your walls, throbbing and pulsating at the same pace his heart beat in his chest. Noises dripping in sin seemed to bounce from one wall to another as both of your and his thighs gathered sweat and other bodily fluids. There was no stopping what Yuma wanted to achieve.

When he felt his body clench even tighter, he knew there wasn't much left in him. He looked up into the mirror again, expecting you to still be sound asleep but little to his knowledge, you were already far gone. Gone were your softly lidded eyes and gone were the slow and controlled breaths that once left your mouth. To Yuma’s surprise, his precious baby looked ever so sinful as her tongue hung out her mouth and her eyes threatened to roll back.

“Yuma,” you barely made out as your entire body burned against the night air. The blanket was now barely covering your legs but the warmth of Yuma against you was enough to send your body into overdrive. Every thrust, every pump, every pulse of his cock in you sent shivers down your spine. Your every breath sounded more like whimpers and pleas as you clawed and scratched at Yuma’s firm embrace around you. Every time his thumb brushed your taut nipple, your body screamed and warned you of your close release. When the reflection of Yuma’s gaze met yours in the mirror, there was nothing left to say.

He pounded and rammed his cock into you more times than you were capable of counting. His teeth dug into your shoulder, neck, and anywhere else within his reach as he searched for an opening, a chance to finally release all of himself into you. The bed you lay in shook violently against the wall as Yuma drove into you at an animalistic pace. Each breath he took now was hoarser than the last, his lungs failing to keep up with the sheer force and energy he expended in devouring you.

The back of your throat ran dry and your voice remained only as whimpers and gasps as Yuma’s efforts to completely and utterly wreck you were close to finding success. Slow and deliberate were now nowhere to be found as his movements started to blur into the next, no start and no end to his unending thrusts.

“More.” Your own voice sounded unfamiliar to you. All you heard was someone begging with every last ounce of energy in her body for release, a release that only the man behind her could give her.

The man behind her was now crazed and in a delirium so heavy there was no way out but through. He ate and swallowed each and every sound that left your agape lips. Deeper and deeper, he fell into his want and desire to take you in totality, to savor and relish in your body, and to hold you closer and tighter to the point where you’d never even think about leaving.

“I love you so much, baby,” Yuma managed to whisper into your ear as he breathed in your scent. His body now acting of its own accord, the finish line within sight. “You’re so perfect.”

The gears in your body wound faster and tighter as your body pressed further into Yuma. “I love you, too.” Your body rose and fell not with your breaths but with every thrust Yuma gave you.

He felt your climax approaching, your walls tightening and squeezing sporadically. His pace quickened and his thrusts rapid and irregular. His disjointed breathing only accompanied by the growls, whimpers, and inaudible pleas he muttered into your skin. The blanket that once shielded you now rested helplessly off the edge of the mattress, no longer serving its purpose.

“I’m all yours,” you gasped before the barrier your body tried so hard to maintain finally collapsed. You felt this immense surge of heat travel all throughout your being. Your muscles relaxed, your eyelids fluttered close, your lungs refused to take another shallow breath. Your release coated Yuma’s cock in another wet layer of bodily fluids, his thrusts not stopping even after you had conceited defeat.

Yuma seized this opportunity to chase his own limit. Your cum made each thrust sound even wetter and sloppier, the vein on the underside of his cock so defined you could feel it throb every time you clenched from overstimulation. His toes curled as he prepared to meet his end only to be delightfully surprised when you, amidst the haze of post-orgasm ecstasy, let out the most sinful words he had ever been blessed with hearing.

“Cum in me, Yuma,” your vision was a blur, all you could think about was Yuma and his cock stretching you out from behind. “Please.”

And with that information, Yuma crumbled. He hips stuttered and pressed into you. Electricity shot to every inch of his body and he swore he could feel his blood boiling at every spot that made contact with your skin. Strands of warm, thick fluid covered your walls as he used you to milk out every last drop. He made sure his thrusts would not yield until he was completely emptied out. The sounds of him grinding his cum deeper into you felt like music to your ears.

It took a while for both of you to catch your breaths. Yuma kissed and soothed all the fresh bruises that adorned your skin and you carefully caressed his arms that still held you so tight against his now damp chest.

You couldn't help but giggle, “Yuma, y’know it’s 4 a.m. right now?”

“I’m aware." His lips curved into a slight smile as he settled into your nape. "Are you complaining?”

“Nope, not at all.”

And no, he didn’t pull out. The cleanup next morning was a sight to behold.

note from author: hope you enjoyed it! likely won't be posting often in the future unless i'm drowning in hard hours again, we'll see... anyway thanks for reading! don't have a taglist atm but lmk if u want to be tagged for any future works. <3

[moongirlrhea]

an ache in you, put there by the ache in me (we could call it even)

azriel and his best friend - chapter IV

series masterlist

azriel x reader

word count: 6.5k

warnings: mentions of bad family dynamics and childhood trauma

a/n: here she is finally, albeit a week late! terribly sorry for the delay, but i hope you enjoy :) let me know what you think, feedback is appreciated! also worry not, there is actual plot on the horizon

to join my taglist, comment on this post

The air in the estate’s dining room was sharp and cold, despite the flames burning in the fireplace.

“Young lady, are you even listening to me?”

“I am, father” she looked up from her plate to see her father shaking his head, eyes narrowed and studying her. He was sitting at the head of the table, disdain practically rolling off of him in waves.

“I’m sorry” she added quietly, while fiddling with her fingers under the table. The corset of her dress was digging uncomfortably into her chest, disabling her from breathing properly.

“What is the reason you have been walking around with your head in the clouds all day again, hm?” her father’s demanding voice cut through the air again “This is the third time this week your tutors have complained to me about you”

She turned to look at her mother but found the same disappointment in her eyes as well.

“Well,” she started sheepishly. “I’ve just been thinking about Rupert’s journeys recently, you know? He- he has been telling me about them and it all sounds so-” her mother’s scoff interrupted her explanation about her cousin's escapades around the continent.

“Oh, don’t you even start” her eyes widened at that, heart rate picking up at the barely contained exasperation in her mother’s voice. As though she were out of her mind. “You know very well you will get to travel for your honeymoon once you’re wed. But first we need to find a male who would find interest in you”

“Right, mother” She swore the marble pillars of the chamber were growing in size, as if ready to block any window in the room. Any access to the outside world “I just- I think I would like to see at least a bit of the world before getting married.” It was worth the try, she thought. Maybe she could convince them to-

“Your entire focus should be on finding a husband, not on losing yourself in your cousin's stories about exploring a world that is far too dangerous for a promising young lady such as yourself. You will start to bring shame to our name soon if you do not stop this nonsense.” The condensation in her father’s voice was thick enough to make her so scorchingly ashamed, she could feel it almost physically. “I will not even begin about all those foolish novels you busy yourself with reading all day as well, when there are serious matters to attend to. You have not had a suitor visit you in almost two weeks now.”

“But I am trying my best-”

“She already is the black sheep of the ton, darling” her parents looked at each other and her mother breathed out the sentence while resting her head against her palm. Such sadness laced her voice as if truly some tragedy or sickness had struck the family.

She could be described as that, she supposed.

“We spend all this money for the most fashionable dresses, best tutors in the capitol, for her to attend all the most important soirees and balls, and this is how she repays us? By not even trying?” she looked between her parents, mouth opening and closing, trying to cut into the conversation about her own life.

“Truly, I do not know what to even make of her anymore. All day she walks around either reading those novels from Prythian or babbling about some nonsense. Maybe enlarging her dowry would bring in more suitors?” Was her dress supposed to be this tight?

“I’m just interested in history-” her parents exchanged a knowing look. More shame licked at her gut. She could feel her breathing becoming shallow, her vision blurring as if something-

“Young lady, you know very well these are not the matters you should interest yourself in.” -As if something was wrong.

“But you said it yourself, that knowledge in culture is very useful in conversation-”

“Can you imagine a fine lady like your mother walking around all day muttering about history and literature to males with obviously much higher education, daughter?” He looked at her like he was expecting an answer, so she went to open her mouth. Before she could, her father was shaking his head, no sliver of warmth in his eyes. “Worry yourself with matters that were made for you, and leave academics for those appropriately inclined, girl” she could feel her eyes start to burn and her breaths coming out in short gasps.

“It is high time you walked on solid ground, daughter, you are not getting any younger” She couldn’t- couldn’t breathe-

-

She shot up in bed, gasping. She frantically looked around the room, trying to gauge her surroundings-

Huge, high and open windows with the first morning light streaming through them. Soft curtains pushed to gently flow against the windowsills by the wind. Shadows flowing loosely around the room, curling and twining around the furniture.

The House of Wind. She wasn’t there anymore, she was-

Home.

She took a few deep breaths and looked closer around herself. A navy blue blanket in her lap and a wing draped across it.

Azriel.

She ran a hand through her hair as her breathing finally evened out. She turned to look at him, laying on his side in bed, eyes open and alert. Only his ruffled hair betrayed that he was asleep just a few moments before.

“Nightmare?”

“I’m sure you get worse,” she breathed out as she layed back down, curling into his side. But before he could pry about what got her so scared, she was asking another question.

“How are you feeling?” Sweet girl. He would have to wait until later in the day to ask, then. Her hands shot out to feel his bandage, seeing it tight and in place. She looked back at him wide-eyed, awaiting an answer.

“I’m alright” she narrowed her eyes, not quite believing him. He winked at her and said “Who wouldn't be? With such an immaculate healer” he teased, smirking slightly, mirth dancing in his eye. Trying to make her break even the slightest smile, as always.

She didn’t say anything, though. Only continued to stare him straight into his hazel eyes, which visibly turned from teasing, endearing amusement to something softer when he noticed her concern.

“I’m alright, angel, really” he chuckled, going to unwrap his bandage, before her hand shot out to stop him.

“Wait, what if-” his bandage fell loose before she was done with the sentence.

The skin of his abdomen was smooth, no wound in sight.

“See what a talented healer you are?” she exhaled in relief, sitting back on her heels

“It’s just your natural healing abilities” she grumbled

A shadow twined itself around a strand of her hair, tugging lightly. She swatted it away and it came to brush against her wrist instead.

Silly little things.

“Hm, pretty sure it’s actually not” she looked up at him, unconvinced “What I’m trying to say, is thank you for taking care of me last night”

She knew how hard it was for him to say those words. Probably just about as hard as it was for her to accept the praise he was spewing on her.

“I’ll always take care of you, Az” she mumbled, looking up at him.

Somehow it was just now that she noticed he was laying there, shirtless. That he had been laying there like that all night, that she slept on him like that. The air in the room thickened.

Didn’t she sleep in the chair last night?

Either way, he was in nothing but a loose pair of sleeping pants that outlined way too much, and she was in nothing but a flimsy nightgown that she also couldn’t remember putting on the night prior.

As the silence in the room lengthened, her breathing became shallow for an entirely different reason than it had just a few minutes earlier. Especially when she looked up at him to find him already looking at her. No, watching her with a careful eye.

Three minutes later she was hurrying down the hallway to her bedroom, head cast down to hide the redness on her face.

Three minutes later Azriel was sitting up in his bed, wondering what had gotten his best friend so worked up to escape his bed in such a hurry, leaving only a flimsy, rushed excuse about being late to work. Work which is three hours away. Work which he walks her to and buys her breakfast on the way, everyday.

Huh.

-

That moment was not what she initially thought it was. Surely, she was misreading things.

She was out of her mind. She had to be, right?

But she swore there was a moment last night where Azriel was about to kiss her. He surely wouldn’t have done that, though.

…Or would he? Fuck.

The early spring air was fresh and cold against her rosy cheeks as she walked along the sidra on her way to the studio through the streets of Velaris. Early blooming flowers were growing on window sills and merchants were already setting up their stalls outside. Spring was coming and the City of Starlight would soon come to life - even though it thrived in the winter just as well.

She left the House a few hours earlier than usual this morning, after she had run off from Azriel’s room. She had then thrown on an ivory dress before haphazardly putting half of her hair up and ended up bumping into Rhys, who flew her down to the city. Since she was almost three hours early for work, she had spent most of her morning walking aimlessly around the rainbow, mulling last night’s situation over in her head.

She was delusional, she had to be. Azriel would never try to kiss her. He wouldn’t want to, surely, and she needed to get those wretched ideas out of her mind before she ruined their friendship for good. She already carried so much of her emotional baggage over to him, it was ridiculous for her to now be thinking of something as absurd as this.

She was seeing things for sure. There were many possibilities of what this could actually be; she’s been so anxious recently that her mind is probably making her think things she would normally find insanely improbable. Like, for one, the notion of her and Azriel as something more than friends.

Azriel was just being a good best friend and here she was turning this situation into something entirely different that he surely would view as an outright disturbing distortion of their friendship.

But somehow the conclusion that Azriel had, in fact, not tried to kiss her and she was out of her mind to think he ever would, didn’t bring even a slither of peace to her mind.

The only thing it did do was bring an awfully stressful tightness to her chest which picked her heart rate up to a point she thought the feeling might climax and she’d simply just explode.

Truly, she should pat herself on the back for handling her anxious feelings so well.

All this made her so distracted she bumped into people at least four different times in the last hour. Azriel would scold her for being so unaware of her surroundings. It’s dangerous, he would say if he were here. But he wasn’t here because she was stupid and making things awkward and- She audibly groaned as she walked alongside the windowsill of one of her favorite bakeries. And, of course, on top of things, she had forgotten to eat breakfast.

She needed to get her shit together, really. Or she needed a break. Or something else that would make things okay.

She sighed out, making a corner. But of course this wasn’t the first time the idea of her and Azriel as an item crossed her mind. She was raised and trained to think of every male she met as a potential husband. It was automatic. And after all, he was the first male she met after fleeting her kingdom. She had been in her old ways, back then.

At least that’s what she would keep telling herself for now on.

It was what she did tell herself after she got to the studio and started to set up.

-

It was also what she kept telling herself for almost the entire following week, which she spent trying, and failing miserably, to avoid Azriel while also realizing that she was acting a bit ridiculous.

It was just that every single time she saw him, all these thoughts kept resurfacing to the top of her mind and she felt pathetic, embarrassed and like the worst friend in the world at the same time. He’s been doing so much lately to ease all of her worries.

Gods, he’s been basically breaking his back to make her smile and this is how she repays him?

He noticed that something was wrong with her, of course he did. But then again, when was the last time in the last few months when something wasn’t wrong with her?

Cauldron, he was so …gentle about it too. “Are you sure everything’s alright, angel?” he would ask with a hint of worry in his tone, hazel eyes alert and holding that same care she’s come to know so well.

And that made everything so much worse. The thought crossed her mind that maybe he also felt guilty about something - as though he too noticed some sort of shift and took it as his own mistake. As if he saw his fault there.

So, she promised herself that tonight she would go to him. And they would spend time together, like they usually did. And everything would be good.

She would hate it more than anything if she was the cause of Azriel feeling any sort of guilt, the Mother knew how much he struggled with that already. So, she decided they would spend a lovely evening together and she would not allow herself to think, for even a second, about kissing him.

Even though she had, in fact, thought about it all week. He would hate her for ruining their friendship like that - and if that ever happened there would be nothing else to do but throw herself headfirst into the Sidra.

She had analyzed the situation thoroughly in her head and came to this conclusion: she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to engage herself in any sort of romantic thing. It brought to mind a plethora of negative memories, but this was Azriel. Which made it all the more ridiculous.

Besides, she’s already established that she shouldn’t even allow herself to think of her best friend like this.

She was the carrier of entirely too much emotional baggage that Azriel already had to comfort her about, now more than ever. It wasn’t the right time to think of such matters when in the span of the last month she cried in his arms multiple times about one situation, which she still had no idea what to do about.

Nightmares and flashbacks wrecked her mind extremely often and of course she went to Azriel for comfort, but he had to be tired of her by this point. Especially considering that her past is like a walk in the park compared to his.

Of course she was very aware she shouldn’t compare their situations - but she can’t help it, sometimes.

Embarrassment burned hot in her gut at the idea of Azriel, the male who has been comforting her like some child for the last few weeks, seeing that in the meantime she’s been wondering about whether he wants to kiss her or not. She felt her cheeks burn at how pathetic that seemed. Gods.

Enough of this. She would not kiss him. She would not ruin their friendship, which was the one stable thing in her life, she reminded herself, and everything would be fine. End of story.

-

The ingenious plan for the evening would have worked out fine, if it weren’t for the fact that Azriel wasn’t in his room. Or anywhere else in the House.

Great.

She was almost fully certain that he did not tell her about going on another mission this week. What if he specifically chose not to tell her, because she had already ruined everything- She shook her head with a furrowed brow, as if that would send the vicious thought far away.

No. She would not go there. There was still one more place to check - the library that Nesta and Elain spent a lot of their time in after first coming to Night. He liked to read there sometimes, when he had the time or wanted to relax after an especially stressful day. And so she took the stairs to the higher floor and was already preparing what to say to him, wondering if she shouldn’t have maybe baked something for him, when it turned out that the library was certainly not where Azriel was.

It was however, where Nesta was reading on a blue velvet armchair standing next to the huge floor to ceiling windows. The City of Starlight was bathed in late sunset, the first stars already shining, as were the fae lights in the cobblestone streets and houses. It wasn’t until Nesta spoke that she realized she was standing frozen in the doorway, disappointment probably evident on her face.

“Azriel had to go on a last-minute mission. An emergency” the female looked up from her novel, icy eyes piercing into hers, and cocked her head “Cassian was supposed to tell you?”

“Oh. I haven’t seen him” she sighed and crossed the room to sit in the armchair opposite to Nesta’s. “Is everything alright?” An emergency mission wasn’t a completely strange occurrence to her, but it didn’t happen often. And Azriel hadn’t talked about having any trouble.

The other female’s eyes narrowed at that. “Azriel didn’t say anything to you about his last few missions? Really?”

“What do you mean?” But Nesta just shook her head.

“Maybe it isn’t my story to tell, then”

“Nesta, come on” She obviously wouldn’t intrude on Azriel’s privacy, he had the right not to tell her about something, but she had a feeling there was more to this. What if he was in danger? “At least tell me if he’s safe”

“As safe as on any mission, as far as I’m aware”

“The last time you guys said he’d be fine he ended up getting stabbed so forgive me if I’m not very trusting on this”

Nesta chuckled, a half smirk appearing on her face as she leaned back in her chair “Listen, I know you two go full mother-hen mode on each other like, three times a day but he really should be okay. From what I know he’s just there to pick up on conversations, no participating in anything” she said in a light tone “And before you ask, Rhysand asked him to immediately go check on something, so he genuinely had no time to tell you”

“Yeah, I know that he must’ve had a good reason not to tell me” she mumbled with a frown, at which Nesta cocked her head to the side again

“I’m sorry, but you guys have been acting awkward recently. I just wanted to make sure you knew he didn’t do it on purpose”

“We- we are not acting awkward” she sputtered out immediately

“Oh, really?”

“Yes! There’s nothing wrong”

“I didn’t say there was something wrong” the other female had a knowing glint in her eye when she said this, almost proudly.

“Oh”

After a beat of silence Nesta hummed and readjusted her position on the chair “You don’t have to sit here like a doe ready to bolt as if I were about to force you to tell me what’s going on”

“Everything with me and Az will be alright, tho”

“Well, I should hope so, it would be a shame if-” Nesta stopped herself, smirking slightly.

“If what?” The other female just looked her in the eye, raising an eyebrow as if she expected her to figure something out. But all she could think about was why Azriel hadn’t said anything about something going wrong in his missions.

Now that she thought about it, recently he hasn’t even been telling her where his missions were.

“Nesta, what has been going on during those missions?” she asked finally, voice stretched thin. Nesta just looked at her, face suddenly serious. She glanced at the window to the side and then sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

“Fine, I’ll tell you but only because I can’t stand to look at you with those puppy eyes of yours. He has really told you nothing?” There was audible surprise in her voice, which was quite rare for Nesta.

“Nothing”

“There has been a …group, I suppose, operating mainly on the continent but they’ve been moving around”

“A group? What does that mean?”

“They’re Rhysand’s enemy, is what I know. We’ve been trying to establish who exactly they are, because they’ve not revealed themselves. But they have quite a vendetta against the whole court, that one’s clear. We don’t really even know the scale of the danger yet, if they’re something we should truly worry about”

“And this …group, is one of them who stabbed Azriel?”

“As far as I’m aware, yes”

“And, uh, how many of them are there?” Nesta just pressed her lips into a tight line, giving her a knowing look and shaking her head.

Well, it appeared her and Azriel had more to talk about than she initially suspected.

-

The time she finally saw him was while she was at work. She’s spent a lot more time at her studio recently than she usually did, but it was good on her. The shop has been busy and she’s been selling practically every single design she had in store.

Working also provided her with at least a bit of reprieve from the mess that was happening in her mind. Her life. And she was frequently visited by Mor and Cassian, who couldn’t for the sake of their lives hide the fact that they were really just trying to check if she hadn’t absolutely spiraled into madness, yet. Her cheeks heated uncomfortably every time she was reminded that quite literally every single member of her family bore witness to the whole family fiasco.

Even though she despised being coddled, the company was greatly appreciated now that she saw Azriel less than usual. Well, that was until now at least.

He walked into her shop quickly and scanned the room until his eyes landed on her working at her table. Determination shined in them.

She stood up and scanned his body up and down. He seemed alright. He must’ve come back at least a few hours ago, because he was clean and wearing fresh clothes: a black shirt and pants. A coil of tightness seized her heart at the fact that he didn’t go to her immediately after coming home.

A heavy silence encapsulated the room, and she started to play with her fingers. Then she went to open her mouth to say something, but so did he, and -. Neither of them said anything.

Gods, when did it come to this?

She chuckled awkwardly and refused to meet his eye. Azriel ruffled his wings, stretching them out and pulling them back in. Then he exhaled and shook his head.

His shadows came to her before he did. The swarming little things twirled around her whole body. She laughed a little as they twisted around her legs and arms while also pulling at strands of her hair and the edge of her dress.

Then a set of hands was on her waist and shoulders as she was pressed against a muscled chest. She swore a tight knot that had been noticeably bothering her recently loosened immediately at the familiar feeling. She put her arms around him too, and rested her head against his shoulder, breathing out.

“Hey” he half whispered finally, voice hoarse and thick.

She pulled her head up to look him in the eye and swallowed before replying “Hey”

He was back.

-

An underdetermined amount of time passed as they simply stood there, holding each other. Sharing the space.

And then it was as though a dam broke; they were sitting on the floor, her legs swung over his as they talked. And talked.

She told him about what she had learnt from Nesta. He was apologetic but told her that he didn’t tell her because he didn’t want to unnecessarily worry her when she already had so much on her plate.

She wasn’t too happy about it, but neither was he about her avoiding every single question about her family. If she was anything, she was dismissive of her feelings, he was well aware, but he was especially worried about her these past few weeks. This family thing was taking a toll on her and he hated that she felt too burdensome to talk to him about it. Hated that they had made her like this and still dared to this day to impose on her peace.

He hoped, if only a little, that they would, in fact, dare to come here because then he’d be able to personally tell them what he thought of them.

And so the pair continued on their conversation; she told him about the ridiculous situations she’s been having with clients and about Cassian throwing a fit a few days prior when Rhys ate all of the brownies she had baked. And he laughed fondly before starting to tell her about his mission and for a moment, she truly believed that everything would be alright. That the short time they had apart from one another really did do both of them well and they’d be back to normal.

Until Azriel mentioned something that she’d been very purposely, and successfully avoiding, thus far.

“I think we have to postpone our Summer Court trip, sweetheart.” she freezed and tensed as something started to ring in her head. Not something - Amren’s voice, from the last time she saw her. “I’m sorry, angel, but with this group gallivanting around the continent, we don’t know if they aren’t in Prythian at this point as well. They could be targeting other High Lords too and I’d rather you stay in Velaris, where it’s safe, for now, at least while we're gouging out the threat”

Azriel’s reasoning was absolutely logical. It was just that her mind was not.

It was obvious that now wasn’t the best time to go on a vacation because of what Azriel was saying, but she couldn’t help but think that there was something hidden to it, too.

Amren was right and she had, in fact, been selfish and unthoughtful. And Azriel knew it but he would never say it to her face.

“Sweetheart?”

“That’s, yeah -. That’s okay, we’ll just have to go another time, then” she gave him a tight-lipped smile as she felt something heavy settle against her chest.

“I know we were both looking forward to it, and we will go, once it’s safe to, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah sure” she replied softly, although her mind was already somewhere else. She was a bit disappointed but- It was for the better anyway, she guessed. She did see the glances her family exchanged at that dinner, while Amren was storming down on her. Like they agreed with the silver eyed female, like she was wrong for planning to go on a trip while her own family drama would climax in the meantime, and they’d be left to deal with it.

They were right.

Hot, scorching shame that she’d lately come to know so well consumed her whole body. When had she become …this? She was better than this, stronger. Or at least she used to be. Maybe it was her parents making her revert to this stumbling, scared shell of a female. But somehow such a thought didn’t help her one bit. It was still… her.

Azriel was saying something, trying to distract her, because how could he not notice when something was irking her mind? And so she let him, she tried to focus on his story, let it wash over her mind. And she loathed her family a little bit more than usual when vitriol filled thoughts wouldn’t stop taking over her mind.

-

Azriel noticed something was wrong back in the studio when she locked up at the mention of their trip. He knew how excited she was for it, but surely that couldn’t have ruined her mood that much.

And yet her eyes were downcast and sad all throughout dinner. He watched as she barely greeted everyone and ate her meal in silence, only glancing at her family a few times. His attempts at making her laugh only succeeded in making him feel pathetic and when he tried to gouge out what was going on, Nesta, Cassian and Morrigan all gave him sheepish, knowing looks.

What happened while he was gone?

Noticeably, Amren was absent from the table.

He felt his hands tense and clench everytime he looked at her and saw the downturn of her lips as she moved her food around her plate.

His girl was sad, and it awakened a simmering, impatient anger within him. If Rhysand would have let him, he’d have gone to that kingdom and dealt with the situation himself. It wasn’t like he hadn’t already tried presenting such an idea to his High Lord.

Another thing he noticed was how …tired she seemed. Her movements were sluggish and he easily picked up on other usual signs of her being overwhelmed. He needed to fix this before things got bad.

-

Azriel’s first step to fixing the situation was to find out what had happened in his absence to make his best friend go into massive survival mode at the idea of having family dinner. And so, soon after dinner was over, he found himself standing in Rhysand’s office and listening to him recount a conversation that happened on the night he got stabbed.

Less of a conversation and more like one of Amren’s egocentric monologues.

“And none of you thought to tell her to quit it?” Rhysand sighed as Azriel gritted out the question from between clenched teeth.

“We did”

He scoffed “Seems to me like the damage had already been done” Rhysand recognized the sharp glint in his brother’s eyes. This wasn’t Azriel talking; it was the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. Ruthless in protecting what was his. “You know damn well how much of a sore subject this is to her. All of you do, yet you let Amren go on and on, even though you’re well aware how sensitive she is about this”

“Azriel-”

“No!” The spymaster slammed his hands down against Rhys’s mahogany desk. The High Lord, sitting on its opposite side, tensed up. “What the fuck, Rhys?”

The other male sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose “I do realize how stressful this situation is on her, Azriel. We all do. You’re not the only fae here who cares about her" He looked up to meet Azriel’s unforgiving glare “But the facts are this: as long as she stays here, she has nothing to worry about. We operate on our law, no one can take her anyway”

“I know that”

“And yet you don’t act like you do” if the situation wasn’t as dire to Azriel, Rhysand would have smirked. He actively had to stop the corner of his lip to quirk up. “You need to do something about this, brother. You’ll only scare her off if you keep up this act of playing guard dog to her. If you threaten to bite the heads off of everyone around, she’ll get scared about her own”

Azriel clenched his jaw “You don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Don’t I?”

“No, you don’t” he gritted out.

A second later, he was out the door.

-

The second step in his plan to fix things was to find her and talk. That would’ve been easier if he hadn’t just learnt what he did. He knew very well that Amren had her moments, but this was rich coming from her. It was just now occurring to him that he hadn't seen her at all in weeks.

Pathetic.

His shadows were agitated as well, squirming around him angrily, already well ahead of him on his way to his girl’s room. He heard her squeak as they swam into her chamber under the door.

Trying to reign them in was useless, at this point.

A heartbeat later, she opened her door and peeked around the corridor looking for him. A nervous smile graced her face when their eyes met.

“I’m sorry about them, angel. I hope they didn’t scare you?” he asked softly as he walked in her direction. Somehow, half the anger that was consuming him just a second earlier vanished from his body at the sight of her alone.

“They kind of did, but it’s okay.” she giggled as she stepped from one foot to the other “It’s cold here. Do you want to come inside?”

He lifted an eyebrow as he looked at her: she was only wearing a shirt (that he recognized from his own closet) and a pair of long socks. No wonder she was cold. But she just smiled sheepishly and opened the door wider for him to come in.

“I wanted to talk” she freezed, her back still to him as he shut the door behind his back.

“Oh- okay. I mean-”

“I heard what happened with Amren”

“Oh” she turned around to face him now. Eyes wide and cheeks flushed. A beat of silence followed, and it was like he could see her raise her hackles. She couldn’t conceal it, not from him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong” she only pursed her lips and sat on her bed, starting to fidget with her fingers.

“I kind of did, though. You can’t stand there and tell me it wasn’t selfish of me to think I can just-”

“Yes, I can” he stated calmly “It wasn’t selfish of you. You didn’t do anything wrong”

She groaned and looked up at him “You’re just saying that, Azriel! You weren’t there, you didn’t see how they looked at each other”

“Who?”

“Everyone!”

He frowned a bit as he crouched down next to her and put his hand on her knee. “No one blames you for anything, sweetheart. No one, you hear me? Nobody thinks you’re selfish or egoistic or anything of the sort”

“Right. They just pity me” his frown deepened at that.

“What are you talking about?” He felt like he was pulling at strings here. He felt something in his chest tighten when he noticed how red and watery her eyes were getting. This would be her breaking point, he realized then, and he felt a bit of self-loathing slice at his chest. He’d never mean to make her break down, but Gods- she can’t possibly think it okay to keep overwhelming herself and bottling everything up, right? There is not a universe in which he would bear witness to that, and not step in.

“Everyone can see it, all the time!” She flung herself back on the bed and laid there, staring at the ceiling while she talked “I’m a mess and I’ve been a mess and I don’t know what to do” Her last words were watery as she obviously tried not to cry.

He walked to her slowly and laid down next to her. “I know things have been hard, angel. But you’re not alone, I’m right here, alright?”

She hiccuped “I just- I feel so much of this …guilt, you know? For- for leaving, I think that’s were it started and now it’s like no matter what I do, it comes back for me”

“I know”

“I want it to be over, but this vision of them coming here keeps hanging over me like- like-”

“Deep breaths, angel, that’s it” he coaxed her through it gently “Like what?”

“Like a death sentence”

He felt his heart break in his chest. It was then that he made the decision that he’d been putting back for years, for fear she wouldn’t be happy with him. If he ever got his hands on those people, he wouldn’t hold back. Not one bit.

His trail of thought was interrupted by the sound of her turning around and curling into his side. She pressed her whole body against his, hiding her head in his shoulder. His wing instinctively curled around her as she released a shaky breath.

This is where he was, and where he would stay present. He wrapped his body around her and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I’m right here, sweetheart”

He would stay here, for as long as she needed him to. Until there was not a single worry plaguing her mind. And then some.

-

Time passed quickly after that night, and she spent her days on work and spending time with Azriel, like it used to be. Although it did feel like calm before the storm - again. Maybe that’s just what life would look like for her in the near future.

She hoped not. Azriel was there more than he had for those past few weeks; it seemed that whatever trouble that group had been causing had been managed at least a bit.

Tonight, he promised to take her to the theatre for an opera premiere - it has been a long time since they were able to go out and fully relax. Spring was finally coming into Velaris in full bloom, and they both deserved to come back to life too, just like the world did. And so, during one of their flights over the city, Azriel came up with the idea of doing something special, once a week from then on. She had initially wanted them both to attend a painting class together, but they ended up laughing and deciding that wouldn’t really end well for the canvases. And so it landed on the theatre, for the first week's excursion, which she hadn’t visited for months.

She hummed a tune to herself as she packed things up in the shop and made sure everything was in place. The late sunset golden light bled onto the streets as she walked out and started locking the doors.

She was excited to finally have a good night, giddy even. And it definitely could’ve been that, if it weren’t for the rough hand that suddenly pressed tightly against her mouth. If it weren’t for the strange voice, pressed too close to her ear telling her to stay quiet.

And it certainly would’ve been a good night, if it weren’t for the needle that pressed into her arm, and the unending darkness that consumed her afterwards.

taglist: @greenmandm @thoughtfulcoffeeflower @dark-night-sky-99 @ly--canthrope @azrielssgirl @topaz125 @azrielsmate3 @i-am-infinite @stressed-reader @blonde-bansheee @k-homosapien @azysmate @brekkershadowsinger

[dioslesbianwife]

Hope Ur doing well:D!! It's proly rly hard to get through so many posts cause it looks pretty hard:(

Could I maybe have the jofoes x a reader who has a stand basically with all knowledge? But when she has it out for too long it can seriously damage her? And even sometimes mental damage.

Hope this wasn't to much for u!! And I rly hope I didn't leave anything out it's a super bad habit of mine😞 bye and have a good day or night!!!

i hope you're doing well too! yeah it def takes time getting through every request haha, this isn't too much tho, i hope you have a nice night too <33 thank you for requesting and hope u enjoy ♡♡♡

Dio

He’s obsessed with you. Your power is practically divine, something he never imagined could exist.

He compares you to God, or a cursed prophet- “You can see all, and yet you bleed for it. That’s divine suffering, my dear.”

Lowkey wants to exploit your ability to get intel on enemies, but when he sees how it breaks you down- especially if you collapse mid-vision- he’s shocked at how furious he feels.

Will personally wipe the blood off your nose with his bare hands. Whispers to you gently like “You’ve done enough. I’ll burn the world for you, just stay with me.”

Deep down, he fears you’ll lose yourself entirely. It pisses him off. You’re his.

Kars

Immediately fascinated. Your Stand is the closest thing he’s seen to pure, omniscient intelligence besides himself.

Constantly tries to study you, observe your patterns when you use it. Wants to “unlock” you.

But when you scream and clutch your head after keeping the Stand out too long? He freezes. That wasn’t part of the equation.

Starts restricting you from using it unless he approves- “You’re wasting the neurons I adore so much, don’t be stupid.”

But when you're shaking and half-lucid, he will pick you up bridal-style and gently stroke your hair, silently furious that you're hurting again.

Yoshikage Kira

He hates how powerful it is. Not because he’s jealous- he just wants peace, and your Stand draws chaos like a magnet.

“You don’t need to know everything,” he says, pouring you tea. “Ignorance is bliss, darling. Be blissful with me.”

You breaking down mid-use terrifies him, though he’d never admit it. He’ll press a cold cloth to your forehead with trembling hands.

Once walked in to find you speaking to the wall in cryptic phrases, Stand fully summoned. He didn’t sleep for two days.

Still, he’d kill anyone who calls you a freak. “She’s mine. That mind belongs to me.”

Diavolo

Wants to control you, plain and simple. That power is too dangerous to let roam freely.

But you're unpredictable, and he knows if you saw too much of him… you could expose his truth. That terrifies him more than death.

Keeps you close under the guise of protection- locks you away from triggers that might force you to use the Stand.

When you collapse or mentally break, he calls it “the cost of brilliance” but deep down it rattles him.

If someone tried to use you or force you to summon the Stand, Diavolo would activate King Crimson before they could blink.

He loves you, but somewhat fears the power your pain brings.

Doppio

He tries so hard to help you, even when he doesn’t understand what’s happening.

“You’re seeing too much again, right? That’s why you’re shaking?” He kneels beside you, clutching your hand. “Don’t look anymore. Just look at me, okay?”

He panics the first time you pass out from using it too long. Panics again when you forget his name for a moment.

Brings you stuffed animals and warm soup when you're in post-Stand-recovery.

Diavolo wants to limit you. Doppio wants to heal you. It creates a tug-of-war between them.

Doppio says, “Your Stand’s really cool! But… I love you even without it. Even if you forget everything, I’ll remember you.”

Enrico Pucci

You’re the closest thing to a prophet he’s ever encountered. He sees you as part of fate.

Wants to “guide” you, protect you from destroying yourself, but also wants your visions to fuel his pursuit of Heaven.

Quotes scripture while comforting you, sometimes too intensely: “And the truth shall set you free… even if it tears your flesh apart.”

Holds you after every breakdown like you're a precious relic. He kisses you temples gently and hums hymns while you twitch in his arms.

You saw something in his future once and refused to speak of it again. That… unsettled him. He still wonders.

“If your gift kills you, then I will sanctify your suffering. You will not die in vain.”

Funny Valentine

Absolutely wants you as a national treasure. Like- this woman is a walking conspiracy vacuum.

Uses your power politically: “What do you see in this man’s past?” or “Who will betray us next?”

But the damage it causes… unnerves him. He won’t admit it, but it haunts him.

Catches you mid-breakdown once and has to restrain you as you scream nonsense about alternate realities. It chills him.

Buys you silk gloves and brushes your hair when you’s catatonic. Says softly, “You’ve served your country well, sweetheart.”

If you ever predicted his own death? He would kiss you trembling hands and say, “Then I will gladly fall, so long as you remain.”

Diego Brando

Suspicious as hell of your power at first. Doesn’t trust you. Thinks you’ll try to manipulate him.

But then you warn him about a trap once and saves his life. And everything changes.

“What else do you know?” he demands. “Tell me what I become. What I win. How I lose.”

He becomes obsessed with your answers- but then genuinely concerned when you start coughing up blood after each vision.

Feeds you soup like it’s no big deal. “Tch, don’t look at me like that. You helped me. I’m repaying a debt. That’s all.”

That's not all. He watches over you like a greedy, vicious dragon over a treasure that’s starting to crack.

Tooru

He’s enthralled. Your power reminds him of a creeping, timeless sickness- something cosmic and unknowable.

“You know things you shouldn’t. That’s beautiful. And horrifying.”

When you predict calamities, he asks how they will unfold in great detail… and then disappears for days.

He’s shockingly tender when you’re weakened- makes you soup, hums old songs, brushes your hair back.

But he won’t stop you from using it. He wonders what your last vision will be.

He claims to love you. It might even be true.

[haven-lf]

Heated (Part 1)

Alpha Claggor x Omega Reader, rated E (explicit)

Part 2

Part 3

-- -- --

Full work on AO3 ❤️

Let me know if you want to be tagged for Part 2!

I know Claggor senses it from the way his body goes rigid. I feel the heat rolling off me in waves, my scent suffusing the air around us. But Powder and Mylo, both betas, don't have the receptors to pick up on it. Really, they're lucky.

I slide into the booth beside Claggor, already involving myself in the conversation at the table.

“They keep wanting add-ons,” Powder is saying, resting her chin in one hand as she stirs her drink with the other. The metal straw clinks rhythmically against the glass. “I told Gert there's only so much I can do.” She puffs her cheeks out, ignoring the way Mylo perks up at the name. “We maxed everything out.”

“What sorts of mods do they want?” I ask. “Maybe I could figure something out.” It's only half true right now because I can feel the daze creeping in from the corners of my mind. I slip my hand into Claggor's, squeezing meaningfully. I see his head turn in my peripheral vision, and I can feel his eyes on me.

“Oh, Shay wants chem amps for her drumset,” Powder says flippantly. “I told her the stuff's loud enough already, but she said she wants the drummer equivalent of a drive pedal.”

“You sure she doesn't just want, like… the glowing lights?” I suggest. Chem mods not only changed the sound but also the aesthetic of the instruments. “Cuz it's not like—”

I stop mid-sentence, hit with a wave of vertigo. I have to close my eyes against my swimming vision.

“Whoa, Y/N, are you good?” Mylo's voice reaches me through the haze. I keep my eyes shut tight, feeling the world spin. I grip Claggor’s hand tighter as I feel a fluttering in my lower belly.

Then I’m being pulled in against him, tucked under his chin. I almost whine aloud at the contact, nuzzling my face into his neck and chest, taking in deep lungfuls of his scent. Cinnamon, flowers, earth, alpha.

My alpha.

“Claggor,” I whisper, feeling feverish. He’s nuzzling me in return, scenting me.

“Uhh….” Mylo sounds confused across the table. Not that I care. “Seriously, are you okay?”

“She’s fine,” says Claggor, his deep voice vibrating in his chest. “Just… not feeling well.”

I don’t have the energy to respond. I can barely pay attention to my surroundings.

“You should take her home,” Powder says, and I can tell she understands. “She’s…. She needs rest.”

I hum in agreement, squirming against Claggor as the heat threatens to bring a flush to my face. It only started thirty minutes ago! And I'm already losing my senses to my heat. Dimly, I realize he must be triggering it somehow—or at least exacerbating it. Or maybe I'm making it worse by being so close to him, breathing in his scent. But I don't care. He's intoxicating.

Claggor gently nudges me, so I reluctantly pull away from him to get out of the booth. My knees feel weak, but at least I can stand and walk. He places one hand on my back as we leave the bar and head out into the street.

On the walk to my place, we’re constantly touching, whether it’s his hand on my back or my arm around his waist. In a few minutes, we’re in my apartment building. As we climb the stairs to my floor, his scent sharpens into something hotter. Almost entirely cinnamon, no fresh flowers or earth. My fangs descend, and when I meet his burning gaze, his grey irises are thin rings around his dilated pupils.

I nearly drop my keys in my rush to get inside. He’s holding me from behind as I unlock the door, scenting me right here in the hallway. I’m sure everyone on my floor can smell us right now, but I don’t care. The pheromones will be blocked by my door and carried away by the specialty vents once we get inside.

Speaking of: the door finally unlocks. I sigh in relief, and we’ve barely made it over the threshold before I slam the door and press Claggor up against it. He has the presence of mind to turn the deadbolt, and then he’s kissing me.

It’s as though he’s a drowning man and I’m his last hope of oxygen. The kiss is hot and messy and wonderful. I pull his lower lip between my teeth, biting gently, and he groans into my mouth. The air is clouded with cinnamon, sugar, and sex—our scents mixing together into a rich aphrodisiac.

Somehow, we end up in my bedroom, and we’re stripping off each other’s clothes between kisses. My wetness is obvious now as he teases one finger against my underwear, and he huffs out a breath. “Fuck.”

[anything-pov]

Reader rides a motorcycle

comes to pick up JJ because her car is in the shop

The Bau team gauks at Them in full leather fit and tattoos

Penelope has a crush

Reid is speechless

Morgan is Jealous

Rossi is impressed

Emily also Jealous

Hotch is hotch (idk 🤷‍♀️)

JJ is hot and ready to jump their bones immediately

they get home and do just that

nsfw(don't have to write this part)

strap on, eating out, loud asf maybe the bed breaks

laughter

thanks bye

Enjoy, sugar 😊

The Biker 🏍️

It started with a rumble, deep, low, and undeniably sexy. The BAU team stood just outside the Quantico entrance, a little looser than usual after wrapping up a hellish case.

JJ was sipping lukewarm coffee, chatting casually with Morgan and Emily. The others lingered near the SUV's, gossiping and giggling. No one expected this kind of spectacle.

Then they heard it. Rossi looked up first, "That's not a car." Morgan turned, eyes narrowing, "That's a bike. A serious one." Rounding the corner, a fully restored 1974 Harley Davidson came purring into view.

Black and chrome gleaming in the late afternoon sun. The rider was a vision in matte black leathers. Short cropped hair just visible under the helmet, sleeves tight over tattooed forearms gripping the handlebars.

Black boots. Silver rings. Confident posture.

The team stared in stunned silence as the bike came to a smooth stop near the building's steps.

Engine off. Kickstand down. Booted foot out.

JJ's face lit up. "Ohhh my god," Garcia whispered, frozen in place. Y/N Y/L/N, tall, powerful, tattoos climbing up their neck and fingers, wearing JJ's favourite scent, stepped off the bike like a movie star.

She didn’t say anything at first, just took a slow breath and pulled the second helmet and a neatly folded leather jacket from the saddlebag. Reid blinked like he’d forgotten how.

Morgan looked like someone kicked him in the ego. Emily’s mouth was parted just slightly, expression unreadable except for oh, no, their hot. And Garcia? Garcia let out an actual squeak.

“Biker?” Morgan muttered to no one. “JJ’s with a biker?” Y/N approached JJ with a slow smile, helmet tucked under one arm, jacket dangling from the other.

“You look good, Agent Jareau,” Y/N drawled, all low heat and smooth flirtation. JJ stepped forward, cheeks flushed, eyes locked on Y/N like nothing else existed.

Y/N draped the jacket over her shoulders and gently zipped her in, tugging it snug at her hips like she belonged in it. Their fingers lingered.

Then Y/N cupped her face, tilted her head, and kissed her. Not a quick peck. Not a chaste goodbye.

A mouth open, tongue swept, world ending, soft moan from JJ, kind of kiss. Right in front of the entire BAU. Morgan gawked. “Okay, damn.”

Emily exhaled, “Jesus Christ,” too softly to be caught by anyone except maybe Rossi, who smirked knowingly. Reid whispered, “I think I’m… experiencing something.”

And Garcia...?

Garcia absolutely lost her mind. She threw both arms into the air and shouted across the parking lot, “Marry me, baby!! I'll buy you matching leathers!”

JJ broke the kiss, blushing so hard, burying her face in Y/N’s neck with a breathless laugh. Y/N just grinned over JJ’s shoulder and shouted back, “Sorry, gorgeous, I’m already taken,” and kissed JJ’s temple.

Garcia actually fanned herself. “Oh my god, she talks like a dominatrix!” She muttered, her legs becoming jelly. “She rides like one too,” JJ called back without thinking, laughing breathlessly.

The team groaned and cheered, voices echoing. “I hate how cool that is,” Morgan mumbled. “Cool?” Rossi grinned. “That’s iconic.” Hotch stood off to the side, arms crossed, face tight, but even he cracked a faint smile.

Y/N placed the helmet over JJ’s head, fastened it with practiced ease, then led her by the waist toward the Harley. They got on first, calm and in control, and JJ climbed on behind, arms wrapping tightly around Y/N’s torso, body pressing flush.

As they rode off, Y/N gave the throttle a little extra twist, just enough for the bike to roar loud and powerful, a powerful send-off.

- - -

That night...

JJ barely waited for the helmet to come off before she shoved Y/N into the door. “Inside. Now.” They stumbled backward, laughing, still in leathers, hands tangled, breath hot.

Y/N dropped the helmet, peeled the jacket from JJ, eyes dragging hungrily down the way the tight black top clung to her chest. “I’ve been thinking about you on that bike all day,” JJ whispered, yanking Y/N’s jacket open.

“You’re gonna fuck me so good, baby.” JJ smiled. Y/N grinned in return, their voice dipping to a growl, “That’s the plan.”

Clothes hit the floor. Leather thudded. JJ was flat on the bed before she knew it, legs spread, hair a mess, Y/N between her thighs, mouth already on her.

Tongue deep, sucking, licking. JJ’s hands clutched the sheets, hips arching, moaning loud enough the windows might’ve rattled. Her thighs trembled.

“Fuck... Y/N... yes, yes, don’t stop—” JJ moaned, Y/N didn’t. They kept going, relentless and worshipful, groaning into her, tongue lapping until JJ was breathless and twitching.

When JJ tried to pull them up, Y/N was already grabbing the harness, sleek, black, already buckled low on their hips. “Roll over.” They gently demanded.

JJ obeyed fast, moaning as Y/N slid in from behind, one hand gripping her hip, the other around her throat, careful and firm. JJ took every inch, gasping, crying out as Y/N pounded into her, slow and deep, then harder.

The strap-on inside her was hitting every spot, Y/N’s fingers bruising her hips in the best way, sweat dripping from their forehead as they thrust harder, rougher.

“Don’t stop... fuck, don’t you dare stop!” JJ screamed, Y/N’s voice was ragged in reply, “Not until you scream for me, baby.” And she did.

Loud. Shaking. Writhing under them, breathless and wet and so gone. Then... SNAP.

The bed frame cracked in half. Slats snapped. The middle dropped. Mattress dipped. JJ screamed again, from climax and then from laughter, still tangled in her own high.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, staring at the tilted bed. “We broke it.” Y/N collapsed beside her, grinning wide. “That’s on you, sweetheart.” JJ elbowed them. “That was absolutely on you.”

“Wanna go for round two on the floor?” JJ turned over, kissed them slow. “Get the lube.”

[sai-int]

Hi! This is the first time I make request and sorry if my english isn't good but I've been reading a lot of smut of daryl lately and now i am craving some angst. Could you write one where the reader is younger than daryl (maybe she's around 23) and she has a huge crush on him but daryl doesn't want too acknowledge her feelings because she's younger than him. But then daryl realised that he's crazy about her too when reader is trying to move on from him.

Thank you! Mwah!

I turned this into smut, and kinda strayed away from what you asked I'm so sorry, also i just found this in my drafts from like a year ago, i am SO sorry pookie

-> not proofread, straight stream of consciousness vibes

farm!daryl, kinda smut, mdni, ignore the lack of capitalization, I did this on my phone

from the second he saw you smoking way up in that tree, he knew he'd be better off hightailing it back to atlanta.

the eldest greene sister. and boy did herschel have a lot to say. When daryl and his group arrived at herschel's farm, daryl's initial thought was that it must've been a weed farm, mainly because he could smell the damn plant from at least a mile away.

okay, not really. herschel picked up on the scent as he greeted the group outside and followed daryl's gaze to you, propped up in a tree, puffing away at your diy bible-rolled joint as you doodled in a notebook

"would you stop with the damn plants for a second? We have visitors." herschel called out to you. you hopped on out of the tree and made your way over to the group, snuffing out the joint and stuffing it in your pocket for later.

what? it's not like there's anywhere you could buy some more.

"thought we weren't taking anybody in?" you said to your dad, sizing up the group before your eyes landed in daryl.

herschel had responded, but either the weed kicked in or the world must've suddenly gone mute, because the only thing you could hear was your heart beating.

he had made eye contact with you, but quickly adverted his eyes and fixated on the grass, which became the most intriguing thing in the world to him.

herschel continued talking and negotiating with the group's leader as you stood there, your eyes flickering between daryl and the rest of the group.

herschel had allowed them to stay until a kid you discovered to be carl–who got shot by otis) heals up. much to your dismay, you could see the brooding archer setting up camp right underneath your designated smoke spot. not that you minded having a man that absolutely devour-able underneath you as you indulged, but it was still your tree. you had headed inside to make some dinner for carl when you spotted him through the kitchen window.

you quickly stomped your way out of the main house to your tree- his tent. he had just snuffed out his fire and zipped up his tent for the night.

"you're camping out under my tree." you said matter-of-factly, standing outside of his tent and perfectly aware that he can hear you through the thin fabric.

"it ain't yer tree, sunshine." he grumbled from inside the tent.

"it's not your land."

"ya can't make a tree yer property... ain't how that works."

"oh but that is how it works.."

you could hear a mumbled response, but you were already rounding the tent and making your way up the tree before you could make sense of it.

it wasn't long before the smell permeated his tent. he didn't mind the smell of weed, if anything, it enticed him to join you. but god was he exhausted.

perhaps, he wasn't exhausted enough. he relented and opened his tent and turned around, trying to find you through the darkness. like you had night vision, you could see him looking up, almost directly at you.

"plan on joining me? or you just gonna stare at me little while longer?" You called down to him.

"ya gon' share?" he said loud enough for you to hear him, but not enough to wake the others.

"come and find out.." you teased. not only did weed make you generous, but it turned you on too. flirting with the clearly older man was not on your playbook, but then again, neither was the end of the world.

christ almighty this was a new low. definitely sativa.

he made his way up the tree with ease, the smell of weed growing stronger as he made his way closer to you. he sat down across from you. the thick branches of the willow tree would support you both. The fiery glow from the bud briefly illuminated your face as you inhaled

to daryl, you were much prettier than you were earlier. he could see the way your rosy lips had briefly trapped the filtered end of the joint before inhaling, and the warmth in your cheeks under the moonlight. yeah, he was definitely feeling the second-hand high.

wordlessly, you held out the joint to the older man, smiling softly as he took it from your grasp and placed his lips around it.

he took his fair share of hits as you shamelessly admired him. his looks weren't lost on you, and yours most defintely were not lost on him. maybe it was the weed, or the way you tits sat in you shirt, or the way your hair seemed to perfectly frame your face, or even the look in your eye, but he slowly felt himself shuffling over to you, suddenly longing to feel your skin on his.

as he sat closer, the smell of weed seemed to fade away as your aroma his him like a brick. the vanilla in your remaining body wash had been swept up by the wind, imbuing his senses, sending a wave of sparks straight to his cock.

the tension was palpable. he looked into your longing eyes. he knew what you wanted. he wanted it too.

"we can't- yer old man he'd-" he mumbled, ignoring the way your eyes burned his skin, and most defitnely trying to ignore the way his pants strained around him.

"we can," you cut him off in the same quiet fashion, your hand finding his thigh as if it had a mind of its own.

the second you touched him, he could feel himself bending to your will, his mind slowly twisting into mush. he saw the redness in your eyes and knew you were just as gone as he was.

within seconds you planted your lips onto his, molding together instantly. his rough hands found their way to your hips as he maneuvered you on top of him.

you could feel his cock straining in his pants as you instinctively pressed yourself into him. he could feel the heat from your cunt radiating onto him as you mewled from the friction. your teeth caught your lip as you remembered that you couldn't be too loud. he looked up at you, his heart pounding and reverberating through his bones. you began to grind on him as he held you firmly against him, his head tipping back and against the larger trunk of the tree as he kneaded the fat of your hips.

he pressed you harder against him, moving your hips to grind against him as he instinctively bucked his hips into you. his clothed cock rubbed repeated and merciless strokes against your clit. his hands snaked their way up your back and neck, eventually grabbing a fist full of hair from the nape of your neck. he pulled backward, latching his lips to your neck, feeling your heart beat erratically underneath your skin.

"f- fuck..." you mewled into his ear. daryl wanted that sound on repeat 24/7. you felt yourself begin to drip past your panties and soaking your cotton shorts. your hands rested on his hard chest, feeling his body shutter with every stroke of your hips.

daryl could embarrassingly feel his climax approaching as he pressed himself into your heat. the coil that tightened inside brought him some semblance of clarity from his high. He stilled your hips with his hands and pulled you off him.

"what the fu-"

"I ain't gonna cum inside m'pants like some damn teenager... 'f 's gon' be anywhere, its gon' be inside ya." he said quietly, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, still holding you close.

masterlist

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

Don't cry over spilled milk ◦ l.f

-Accidents happen is an easy thing to say when your daughter didn't just dump a cup of milk on your husband's new black carpet and all of a sudden— you can't breathe

Paring◦ Dad!Lee Felix x Mom!Reader

Words◦ 1633

Genre ◦ Hurt and comfort, ngl this was like really angsty and I didn't mean for it to be 😭, definitely fluffy towards the end though

Warnings ◦ Kinda points towards the fact that the reader might have been abused, descriptions of the readers father being an asshole, talk about abuse, the term beating black and blue, crying, spilled milk, Felix being sickeningly sweet, overuse of love, descriptions of bad dreams, trauma, bleeding, bad thoughts, and wounds (all these are metaphors).

Taglist◦@thetoastghost222I hope you like it <33

A/N ◦this is just something simple and cute I cooked up real fast I didn't really put too much thought into it honestly I just let my brain go also don't judge me but I literally just looked up "cute Korean girl names that mean sunshine" in the search engine and picked the first thing so... also I'm going to be reuploading all my old stuff into my new blog in one fair swoop soooo I'm rereading this and there's something about my writing I have always noticed is off so if anybody can point it out/ give me advice I would literally appreciate it so much

~cookiecreates 🍪

You took "Don't cry over spilled milk" very seriously because it took every fiber of your being not to sob when Ha-Yun's glass of milk dropped on Felix's new carpet, throwing a vibrant white stain on the expensive black furnishing. You really don't know how many different adjectives your brain could come up with to describe the horror you felt pounding in your heart.

It was as though this moment was a portal into the deepest caverns of your mind—a key that unlocked a swarm of memories flickering in the back of your brain like fireflies. You squeeze your eyes shut, pushing back the flood of bad feelings that seem to wash over you quicker than you can wipe them away—You're transported back to those days when your head was high and your hands were small, spilling milk on your dad's new carpet. You were so little, so naive, you didn't know that the world wasn't all butterflies and unicorns; that milk stained and dads got mad. You vowed to be the parent who held their baby's hand as they picked it up, smiling when they threw the dirty towel in the trash. 

Accidents happen.

Accidents happen.

Accidents happen.

But you don't know if that's what Felix vowed to do, and with the carpet being 600 dollars, you wouldn't be surprised if he beat the poor girl black and blue.

Just like your dad did. 

Your fingers tremble as you grip the cup in your hands, the world seems to swirl around you, swimming in all your bad dreams. It only took a teaspoon to die and a bad thought to drown. How easy it is to be pulled under the waves when you're vulnerable. You thought you kept the sea at bay, but even the most experienced divers can get pulled into a riptide. 

The cup clatters in the sink, startling you out of your thoughts. Ha-Yun babbles in the corner, throwing cheerios to the ground. This was all your fault; you shouldn't have put her high chair in the living room. 

All your fault.

All your fault.

All your-

The lock clicks.

Your heart drops, plummeting into the grave in which you buried all your pain. You scramble to find something to cover the stain. In all your panic, you forget that shit doesn't magically go away, sticking to your skin like syrup dripping down your spine. Everything was spinning in your vision as your lungs contracted, you wondered if you could really drown in theoretical oceans, especially the ones that occupied your mind.

It all seemed so silly as Felix's frame came into view, like he was made entirely from watercolor pouring down the page. You threw the towel over the mess, attempting to conceal your sobs.

Maybe he'll walk away.

Maybe he's too tired to notice.

Maybe you can spare his wrath.

“Love,” Felix's deep voice floats into your ears like cotton candy disintegrating under the waves of words you drown in. Scars were never promises on the skin; the human body is a delicate chemistry, and with the right motivation, it can crumble.

You snap. Break apart. Succumb to the river of sentences that stuck to your skin, like honey and glass. Time heals all wounds, but what about the ones that never scar, never scab? What about the ones whose vile words poisoned the flesh, eating away at your soul? Time doesn't heal all wounds because sometimes wounds are just too deep. Strong arms wrap around your huddled frame, your face drawn to your knees. 

“I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." you sob mindlessly, it was as though your younger self control—caught in a weird form of fight or flight—dissociating from reality.

“Sorry? Sorry for what, love?” He whispers, dropping to the floor and pulling you onto his lap. He's so gentle, so calm, so completely opposite of any love you have ever felt or any father you have ever seen.

"Milk-" You choke; your words getting caught in your throat. You dig your face into his shoulder. "She spilled the milk on the carpet. I'm so sorry." The tears keep coming as though you're bleeding all the emotions you had kept under wraps for too long; it was like an infection, and Felix's loving arms cleansed your wounds.

"Oh, love," he coos, petting your hair, "didn't anybody ever tell you not to cry over spilled milk." You can't help but chuckle, a weird mix between a sniffle and a sob. 

You must look like such a wreck right now—face blotchy and red, snot dripping down your nose, tears pouring down your cheeks—you look like you just crawled out of the pits of hell, and he still looks at you like you're the most beautiful woman he's ever laid his eyes on.

In that moment, you feel so silly, so stupid, kinda wanting to crawl back into the pits of hell from which you came. You should have known he wasn't going to react the way your father had. Felix was nothing like the man; he was kind, he was gentle, he was all sunshine and smiles, he was safe.

"I'm sorry for being such a wreck." You cuddle deeper into his chest, sniffling into his shirt. 

"Never be sorry for being human, and especially, never be sorry for showing me." It took everything in you not to break down again, letting his strong arms hold you while you scrubbed all the syrup from your soul, but you have a baby and a mess on the carpet that will be ten times harder to clean if you leave it sitting.

"I'll go get another towel," you sniffle, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"Don't," he pulls you back down on his lap, “Put your arms around me.” You lock your hands behind his neck, yelping when he picks you up bridal style.

“What- Felix, what are you doing?” You squeal as he walks you to the couch, laying you gently on the cushions.

“I'm showing you how to clean up spilled milk,” He smirks like you didn't just destroy his 600-dollar carpet; his attitude genuinely baffles you.

"How are you not mad?” You whispered, dazed, your mind turning into mush. He tilts your chin up, peering at you with a soft smile and kind eyes. Your breath hitches, little heart eyes popping in your pupils. 

"Accidents happen, love, you never grow out of’em." You melt, literally disintegrating into a pile of goo on the couch.

"D-Do you, um, D-Do you need help?" You stutter, blinking harshly to try and gather your thoughts. It was as if his gentle heart short-circuited your tangled wires—knotted from years of wear and lack of care. 

"You just sit there and look pretty, and I'll show you why you shouldn't cry over spilled milk." He kisses you softly, smiling on your skin, "Okay, baby," he breathes, passion crackling between your lips, "You just keep-" Ha-Yun screeches, slapping her high chair full of Cheerios. Felix groans, tipping his forehead to touch yours. 

"You know, one of these days we've got to get a babysitter. I don't know how long I can stand just being able to admire my beautiful wife from afar," your cheeks burn as you tilt your head down bashfully, "Well maybe we can do that when milk isn't marinating on the floor," he claps, jumping up from his arched position, "yep, your right, jeez baby, you really know how to pull me away from a task."

You cheese, pulling the collar of your shirt over your face. "Go on," you shoo him away, "You were going to teach me something."

He smirks, walking over to the kitchen, pulling the roll of paper towels off the counter and tossing them down next to the mess, unlocking Ha-Yun's highchair to lift her out of it.

"What are you-"

"Shh sit there and look pretty," The way his eyes sparkle and his lips tilt makes him appear almost mischievous. You sink back into the couch, folding your arms in front of your chest, assessing him intently. Ha-Yun beams when she sees Felix, waving her arms around, spitting gobbly gook.

"Oh is that right, well I couldn't have ever guessed," he nods attentively like she just stated the stages of evolution, "Well, as much as I love this conversation, baby, you are going to need to clean up your mess". He chastises her gently, and she frowns, glaring at him, he lifts his brows in retort.

"You know you've got a lot of sass for a 4-year-old," he grumbles "Probably got it from your momma," he sends you a look, lips curled up in a smirk. Your jaw drops in faux offense.

"You know what-" he puts his finger to his lips, cutting you off.

"Were you this bad in school? Cause the teacher," he gestures to himself, "is teaching."

"I'm gonna-"

"Looking pretty," He singsongs, a smile playing on his lips. You bite your cheek, holding back your glare. He snickers, placing her down next to the milk—putting a paper towel in her tiny hands.

"Can you help daddy clean it up please," he squats down to her level, stretching his fingers over hers. She blinks down at the splattered milk. You can almost see the gears turning in her head when he starts carefully moving her hand back and forth over the mess. 

"See!" he cheers, his eyes glowing with pride, "Accidents happen, you just gotta learn to clean them up."

Watching the scene unfold before you fills you with an obscene form of bliss, like you have achieved one of life's greatest victories—that maybe all dads weren't raging assholes that yelled when you spilled milk because, like Felix said, accidents happen—you never grow out of'em.

©CookieCreates (posted: June, 26th 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately.

[snowballseal]

My Dearest

Part 5

LaDS Zayne X Foreseer!Reader

Prologue / Part 4

Summary: Things take a turn in the dead of night. Confessions are made after Zayne suffers a nightmare, and you realize you may have a bigger part in his Fate than you originally thought.

Word Count: 2993

Note: Things are picking up >w< in good and bad ways

Warning!!!! This chapter covers topics of illness, death, torture, and some intense emotions. There is a lot of angst. Zayne's backstory is not nice (woops) but neither is his in-game backstory! Also, he may be a bit ooc, but aren't we all in the face of trauma?

Anyways, read at your own peril and please be safe.

---

Sickness comes with a scent.

Every muscle in Zayne’s body draws taut at the familiarity of it. A cloying mix of bitterness and overly ripe fruit. Bile and medicine and sweat. It lingers in the stale air, thick and even more suffocating than the heat.

“Dab perfume under your nose if you wish to mask the scent.”

The familiar tone of his teacher’s voice murmurs from his side, muffled and distant, as if his ears are stuffed with cotton. Zayne looks, thinks he looks, but the hall before him is empty, stretching and warping and twisting.

A cold feeling sinks into his gut, violently screaming that he is meant to be somewhere else, he is meant to be working, doing something, helping someone.

And his feet are moving. Racing. Throwing him down the endless hallway. Panic buzzes like a thousand ants under his skin.

what have you done what have you done what have you done

The world blurs around him, details colliding, fissioning along the edges of his vision, drifting yet still. Dread curls around his throat like a noose as the scent thickens in the air, rusted iron and sweet perfume and sickness. So intense he can taste it on his tongue. So intense he could choke.

“Give me the medicine.”

“Teacher-”

“There is no time, give it to me, Zayne! We mustn’t let her die!”

The words echo down the grand hall. A thousand voices, overlapping, repeating, screaming, whispering, coming from nowhere and everywhere. They rake across his mind, so violent and clear that even covering his ears can’t drown them out.

Desperation forms like a pit in his stomach.

He can’t let that happen. He can’t fail, not when he’s come so far, not when he’s had to prove himself over and over and over again. He can’t.

It was merely Fate.

A door appears before him and he slams into the heavy wood without hesitation, forcing his way into the all too familiar room. The room he spent so many days in. The room drenched in floral perfumes to disguise the scent of death.

Everything stops.

A bed sits in the middle of the room. Small. Empty. White.

Except for the pool of blood at the head.

His knees hit the ground, the chill of the tiles seeping across his sweat-soaked body.

It was merely Fate…

“You killed my daughter.”

No no no

No, he did everything he could. He worked day and night, researching, brewing medicine, wiping the sweat from her small face. He sacrificed so much-

“I will watch you suffer, just as she did.”

Everything fades, blurs, giving way to a darkness that threatens to drown him.

And then the pain.

The sharp edge of a knife dragging across his fingers, digging into the flesh of his palms, drawing streams of thick thick blood. His skin burns, as though his hands have been forced into the coals of a kindled fire, the flames eating away at his blood and pouring into his veins. He chokes on the pain, on the metallic scent of his own blood, and it’s too much too much to-

“Zayne!”

Zayne jolts up in bed.

Panic strangles him, blinds him, his hands trembling so viciously as he grips at the thick pelts at his waist. The pain lingers so vividly in his skin and he can hardly breathe, his chest aching, throat burning.

Until a cool hand presses against his cheek, touch featherlight and hesitant, and his whole body lurches. 

Frenzied, hazel eyes meet yours, and you stare back at him, unwavering.

“Breathe, Zayne,” you murmur, voice tense, commanding, desperate.

And so he does.

---

You’re not sure what wakes you.

The night is still, almost unnervingly so. No storm, no gales, not a single sound you would expect to hear at such a late hour. It is as though the weather itself has grown tired, though the peace feels far more dangerous than the storm.

Your body unwilling to return to a state of sleep, you find yourself wandering the halls aimlessly. It has always brought you comfort, tracing the lines of stone that make up your Tower’s walls. You can feel where your feet take you most often, the edge worn to smoothness under your fingertips, leading you to the staircase that ends at your former bedroom. Where Zayne rests.

You pause at the foot of the stairs, casting your gaze up into the dark, climbing spiral.

How odd that your instincts bring you here. It almost makes you feel a touch pathetic, knowing that your subconscious is drawn to him so certainly. Only a few days have passed since you allowed the ice to thaw between you, and here you are, seeking this man as if he is the only one capable of settling this unease in your chest.

Ridiculous.

Sharply, you turn away, ready to retreat back to your new room, to make another attempt at sleep -

Until a shuddering gasp echoes down the stairs, a gasp filled with pain.

Suddenly your feet are taking you up.

And the sight you find at the top has your whole body freezing over.

Zayne lays twisted in the pelts of your bed, every muscle drawn inhumanly taut as he arches off the bed, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his blanched skin. It is the body of a man ravaged by pure agony, his chest heaving with labored breaths, like his soul is being torn from his flesh.

You move to the side of the bed, magic prickling wildly under your skin as a foreign sense of panic sweeps over you, dropping the temperature in the room drastically. Your eyes scan him, just as wildly, looking for any injuries, any blood, any reason he might be experiencing such pain, but you find a disturbing lack of anything. His body is untouched, apart from his old injuries.

So why is he facing such torment?

“Zayne?” You call, wavering beside the bed. You can’t sit. That would be too close. Too comfortable. You can’t cross that boundary, you can’t.

Yet when the man cries out between his gritted teeth, the sound so completely broken, you can’t bring yourself to stay at a distance.

The bed shifts under your hesitant weight. Now that you’re closer, you can see the stark paleness of his face, the tight clench of his jaw and eyes, the way his dark hair sticks to his forehead. Your hand wavers in your lap, torn between waking him and being unsure of if you should interfere yet again. Could this not be Fate’s form of punishment?

Though, once again, the decision is made for you when Zayne turns his head, face going tight with such inconceivable pain, his fingers curling desperately into the edge of your cloak.

Your mouth sets into a thin line.

 This is not atonement. This is torture.

“Zayne!”

---

“Breathe, Zayne.”

The man takes in air greedily. His whole body trembles with the effort, the cold air easing the burning ache in his throat. And your touch. Your palm is so cool against his heated skin, pressing tenderly against his cheek, like the soft touch of snow.

Mind too torn for proper judgement, he lifts a shaking hand to yours, nuzzling further into your gentle touch. His warm, quivering breath brushes over your pulse, filling your senses with him him him. The balmy heat of his skin, the light touch of his raven hair tickling your fingers, the desperation with which he holds to you, one hand still wrapped in the edge of your robes, as though you might disappear.

How long has it been since someone has wanted you?

A sickening tenderness grips you by the throat, the tension between your shoulders easing as Zayne takes a few deep breaths, face near buried in your palm. Your fingers skim gently over his cheek, magic seeping through your touch to ease his temperature, as you’re not sure what else you can do.

How does one comfort a human? You’re not sure. You have never wanted to. Yet, in this moment, with this man, you want to do nothing but. You want to ease the tightness between his brows and take the pain from his body, his mind, his soul, even if you have to experience it yourself. Oh, how far you have fallen.

Eventually, Zayne breathing begins to even out. The roaring pace of his heart eases to something normal, adrenaline dripping away and leaving behind a mess of sore muscles. Breathing out a sigh, his eyes flicker back open, pupils wide and dark, glazed with exhaustion.

And then he realizes just the position he is in - his hand trapping yours against his face, his other wrinkling the beautiful fabric of your robes, the mere foot of separation between your body and his.

He rips his hands away, a raspy apology lost on his lips, but you do not move. Your fingers do not waver against his cheek, tracing the dampness of his skin with such utter tenderness. A low shudder traces Zayne’s spine when he feels your magic curling within the depths of his body, like streams of cool water flowing over every nerve. It feels far too intimate, as though you’ve connected yourself to him, as though you are curling your very soul around him.

“My lady,” Zayne chokes, low and rough, eyes desperately searching yours. Why?

You find that you have no answer.

“I have never witnessed someone suffer such a violent dream,” you admit instead, hand drifting down to settle on the curve of his neck.

Another shiver wracks Zayne’s body, though this one you interpret as being due to the cold of your touch.

“My apologies.” You start to pull away, glancing to the side. “You must be far too cold now-”

“No-!”

Both of you freeze as his fingers wrap desperately around your wrist. His touch is still searing, such a stark contrast to your ice - a pleasant one. You turn your eyes back to him, careful to keep your emotions under control. You can’t both be lost.

Zayne wavers. He glances down to where his skin touches yours, his long fingers so effortlessly encircling your wrist. You could pull away with ease, you could reprimand him harshly for stepping too far, for being a mere human daring to touch such divinity, but you do not. You simply sit, watch, as if waiting to see what he will do next.

“I-” Wetting his lips, he allows his dwindling adrenaline to make him brave, and dares to press a little closer. Close enough to lean back into your touch. “I do not dislike the cold, my lady.”

I do not dislike your touch.

Quite the contrary. Zayne desires nothing more than to wrap himself in it, to indulge in the smooth satin of your skin, to press his lips to every curve and every plane, to see if your body will flush under his attention.

What a heathen he has become.

“Not many find comfort in my presence,” you murmur, almost doubtful, as if you wish to correct him in this. “Most claim my touch is as cold as the ice in my veins.”

“My internal temperature runs higher than most,” he assures you, unyielding, gaze soft but certain, “I suffered often during the heat of the warmer seasons. My teacher-”

A lump forms in Zayne’s throat.

His teacher. The dream. It flickers back through his mind, pain still lingering in his fingers, his scars. Ever since he arrived at the Tower, such memories have been so distant, he had almost thought the nightmares were over. 

How foolish of him.

Reading Zayne is like reading a book, you find as you notice the subtle shift in his expression. One must pay close attention, lest they miss his soul. But you have grown too familiar with his being to miss the distant look in his eyes, as though they are locked on something you cannot see. His fingers curl tighter around your wrist. 

The thin scars on his skin catch your attention, and you allow yourself to analyze them for a brief moment. Up close, there are far more than you originally thought. The sight makes your chest clench with something you don’t recognize, and your fingers move without thinking, tracing one of the thin marks.

The touch draws Zayne back and he flinches as though he has been burned. His hand drops to his lap, tucking close to his body, as if he wishes to hide it.

Is that what his dream was about?

Your voice comes out soft when you press, perhaps too soft, “Were the humans who injured your knee also the ones to do so to your hands?”

Zayne swallows thickly, jaw flexing.

“They were.”

“As punishment?”

“Yes.”

“...May I see?”

He takes a sharp breath, hands curling tightly around each other until his knuckles go white.

“They are unsightly, my lady,” he tries, voice raw. Afraid.

“If I were to show you my scars, would you deem them unsightly?” You challenge, brows steepling with gentle disapproval.

No, no of course he wouldn’t. He would rather cut out his tongue than speak such a blatant lie. No scar could tarnish your beauty, though the thought of anything marring your body, marking the delicate color of your skin, fills him with something violent and so uncharacteristically possessive. How dare someone harm you. How dare they spill your blood. He can only hope they are suffering a far worse fate than his own.

None of these thoughts pass the tight grit of his teeth, though.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he whispers instead, eyes downcast.

“Then I would ask you not to think so lowly of me,” you murmur, “Do not forget, mortal, I saved your life. I have been witness to you hanging between life and death and I have witnessed far more gruesome realities than anything you may know. Scars are merely Fate’s way of allowing us to remember what once was so we may continue into what is.”

It is meant to be comforting in some way, in the only way you know how. Fate may be cruel, but not all she allows must be viewed with an eye of suffering. You know that all too well.

And it seems to ease Zayne’s worries, if only a little. The stiffness fades from his body, and he only hesitates a moment before wordlessly offering you his hands, fingers still trembling imperceptibly.

Slowly, you allow your fingers to trace over his, touch lighter than the drifting snow. His muscles twitch, stutter, moving away before pressing back into you like a tide against the sand, more determined, more certain. Still, you keep your movements slow, keenly aware of the unsteady rise and fall of his chest.

His skin is still so warm against yours. It is like holding the sun compared to the biting cold that lingers in your flesh. You trace the fine lines of his knuckles, brush your thumb over the surprisingly soft skin of his palm, trailing down the inside of his wrist. He sucks in another short breath, pulse jumping under your fingers, but remains perfectly still under your attention.

His scars are many, indeed. They cover every inch of his hands, down his fingers, over his knuckles. Faint lines that gleam almost like silver on his pale skin. The marks are easy to recognize, likely from a small knife. How much pain each one must have inflicted…

“Humans can be quite cruel…” It is nothing but a whisper, shivering in the air with muted anger.

Zayne’s chest aches. He wants to agree, he wants to feel the rage you bear so easily. He wants to hate them as much as you do, and maybe a part of him does, but-

“You killed my daughter.”

He nearly chokes on the guilt.

Brows furrowing, your other palm presses more firmly to his jaw, slowly tilting his face up. Your eyes bore into him with such intensity, as if you can strip him bare and draw out every vulnerable thought trapped in his body. And, in part, you do. In the depths of his eyes, wide and dark like a lamb before the slaughter, you see his despair. It threatens to fracture your frozen heart.

“What sin could warrant such suffering?”

The words ache behind Zayne’s teeth, words he has never spoken, a story he has buried so deep under his skin, that drawing it out now feels like stripping his own flesh. What will you think? Your kindness, your mercy, wasted on a man like him. You may very well choose to end his life, as it should have ended in the kingdom, as it should have in the cold grip of Mount Eternal.

But he owes you far more than just his life, doesn’t he?

“I was a student under a renowned physician at the time,” he rasps eventually, fingers twitching in your grip. Anxious. “The royal court called upon us by name. The king’s daughter was ill, a broken leg that led to infection. My teacher claimed it was an honor to treat her, but it was worse than we expected. Her symptoms were unheard of together, and we spent every hour pouring over medicinal journals to find a cure. We tried everything…but nothing worked. The sickness took her only a few days after we arrived.”

So this is his sin, according to man. Being unable to stop the death of a child, a princess. A death seemingly no one could stop…

A feeling of sickness washes over you suddenly, like a pit opening beneath your feet.

You know this tale. You know it far too well.

It was a prophecy from your own lips.

Your fingers tighten around Zayne’s hand, his scars now burning against your palms.

Fate may wield the sword, but you may as well be the one who sentenced him to death.

---

Part 6

This chapter was interesting to try and balance. It started off way different, but I kept hitting a wall, so I changed it to start with the nightmare and it all made a lot more sense to me. I hope there was enough comfort to balance out the angst, sorry!

Tag List: @pirana10 @antivanblessing @animecrazy76 @xx-riffraff-xx @seris-the-amious

[queenjunothegreat]

JASON Realizes He's Got a Problem

Heeeello everyone! I've got a little tiny thing for you all of Jason realizing he's got a massive crush on Leo post Heroes of Juno. Technically, you don't have to have read HoJ for this to make sense, you just have to live in a world where Piper and Jason never dated. Also! I haven't posted this to Ao3 yet, so you all are getting special privileges. >;3c Have fun!

Jason liked Bunker Nine. It was noisy and crowded and just so lived in in a way that Jason couldn’t quite describe. Part of him thought he would hate it, seeing as it was loud and claustrophobic and messy, but he found himself admiring those very traits. He liked being in the Bunker because he felt like he could do anything, be anyone. The Bunker didn’t hold him to any expectation, it just welcomed him with wide open arms and tucked him in close to its chest so that he could feel the very heartbeat of the place thrumming warm and fast under his cheek. He sighed deeply and burrowed his face down into his arms with a contented smile.

“You know, I’m beginning to think you aren’t listening to me.”

Jason half lifted his head and blinked until the blurriness of his vision faded a little bit. His eyes crossed and the image of Leo came into focus, his chin resting on his palm and his bushy eyebrows furrowed up in a pout like a pair of affectionate caterpillars. Jason blinked again. “Huh?”

Leo sighed dramatically. “I have said, like, three jokes, and you haven’t laughed at any of them.”

Jason felt his lips curl up a little bit and he squished his cheek back into his folded arms. “Were they funny jokes?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Leo informed him. “Your only job is to laugh at them anyway and make me feel good about myself.”

“I thought my job was to ‘stand there and pick up heavy stuff when I tell you to.’”

“Do you see any heavy stuff for you to pick up?”

Jason didn’t bother to lift his head, but he pointedly looked around at all of the machinery and equipment that surrounded them. “Do you want me to answer that?”

Leo’s pout from before deepened until his face caterpillars almost kissed. “That is not what I meant and you know it. I’m still in the planning stages for this boat, so there’s nothing for you to carry.”

Jason snorted and hid his face again. “Okay, sorry I was slacking, in that case. Ha ha, Leo, you’re so funny.”

Jason felt something bounce off his head, and he got the feeling Leo was throwing eraser bits at him. “You are such a dick. You need to quit hanging out with Piper.” Jason just hummed in affirmation and Leo went silent. They stayed like that for a moment before Leo called out softly, “Jace?”

Jason hummed again to show he was listening but didn’t look up until he felt Leo poking him. He heaved a heavy sigh and turned his head. Leo was right in front of him, their faces so close that their noses nearly brushed. Leo’s features were all puckered up and his lips were turned down in a tight frown, which made Jason frown right back at him. “Yeah, Leo?”

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked. When Jason just blinked at him, he cut his eyes to the side and shrank back a little self-consciously. “Sorry, it’s probably none of my business, I just thought you–”

“I don’t mind you asking,” Jason interrupted. “I’m just… confused about why you would, I guess? There’s really, really nothing wrong. Honest. What made you think there was?”

“It’s nothing; just a feeling. Forget about it,” Leo hedged, still refusing to look Jason in the eye. They were silent just long enough for Leo to realize Jason was definitely not going to forget about it, and he huffed. “You just– You’ve been, I dunno, distracted. Like, the past week every other time I’ve talked to you, you’ve just been zoned out staring at me. Last time someone was acting all weird, it turned out Piper was having prophetic dreams about her dad being kidnapped by a giant, so I figured I should ask.”

Jason’s frown deepened. He kinda knew what Leo was talking about, but he hadn’t been zoning out. He was distracted, though. Every time Leo spoke, Jason gave him his undivided attention, but that attention wasn’t always on what Leo was saying. Instead, Jason found himself fixated on the little things like the way Leo’s nose scrunched up when he smiled just right, or how his curls bounced around his head like soft puffy clouds and captured the sunlight like a halo, or the way his crooked teeth flashed with every word he spoke, or the shape of the grease stain smeared over his chin, or–

He shook his head and sat up, realizing he’d been doing it again. “Sorry, man. I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Leo looked startled. “Wait, that’s it? Why didn’t you say so? I would have let you nap, if you wanted. You don’t have to hang out with me, you know.”

Jason shrugged noncommittally. “I wanted to, though. I’d way rather hang out with you than nap.”

Leo ducked his head, his cheeks a little darker than before. “Oh. Okay, then.” 

Neither of them said anything else, so Jason hunched back over the table and let his eyes slide shut, content to just bask in Leo’s warm presence while he rested. Leo fiddled with whatever it was he was working on for a while before he suddenly slammed his hands on the table and stood, making Jason snap to attention. “Alright! That’s it!”

 “What’s it?” Jason asked. 

“We’re leaving,” Leo said decisively. 

“What? Why? I thought you were in the middle of something.”

Leo shrugged casually. “I’ll still be in the middle of it when I get back. It’ll be fine.” Jason’s frown just hardened, so Leo grinned. “C’mon, big guy. We can go to the strawberry fields.”

Jason felt his entire being perk up at the idea, but then he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You don’t even like the strawberry fields. Why do you wanna go there?”

“I like the strawberry fields just fine when I don’t have to work in them,” Leo argued. Jason continued to stare until Leo deflated a bit. “Okay, fine. Look, it’s obvious that you need a nap, and I’m not gonna just sit here and watch you fuck up your back when there’s a perfectly nice sunbeam for you to curl up in somewhere out there. That’s just messed up, dude. C’mon. Come to the strawberry fields with me. It’ll be nice.”

Jason gaped at Leo for a moment. “But-But your boat.”

“Not to be embarrassing, but I do actually care about you more than a boat. You know that, right?”

Jason felt his cheeks go scarlet and he stared down at his fists clenched on the table and bit back a smile. “I– Yeah. Okay, then. Strawberry fields. If you want.”

Leo twisted around and ducked his head until Jason could see the wide, deliberately goofy grin he wore. “I very much do want. Let’s go, Jace.”

Jason’s face went even warmer and his heart thumped high in the back of his throat. He was suddenly very, very glad that he’d been given a second chance after his run-in with Juno and her true form. If he hadn’t, he’d never have gotten to see the way Leo’s eyes shone bright with warm affection and amusement when he looked at him. He’d never have gotten the opportunity to see that smile so close up. He’d never have realized just how much he wanted to cup those smudgy cheeks up in his palms and press a barrage of kisses on every inch of that wonderful face.

Oh, Jason thought to himself as his brain finally caught up to his feelings. He blinked at Leo in shock for a moment, but his desires didn’t even begin to fade. The more he thought about it, the more familiar those desires felt. They weren’t new, which meant that somewhere along the line, he’d managed to trip and fall in love with his best friend, and now he was stuck laying face down in the dirt with this realization. 

Well, fuck.

[kalied0skull]

sighhh, she's on everyone's brains again, so of course she's on mine too

i had this thought rotating for WEEKS in my head of drawing cowgirl braiding her hair or having braids, something with braids (plaits, if that's your vocab /silly)

and i had finally brought myself around to finding a reference to get it down, so...

now playing: January — Loving ♪

★ ramble under the cut !

( obligatory @broareweabouttoviberightnow & @trevination tags ... it's your girl ! )

wow it's been a while since I've been able to ramble under a cut — haven't had much to say though, so 💀 i guess I can't be that surprised

a bit of a soft instrumental song pick for today because i NEEDED something soft and delicate to play in the background of this scene and looked around for a good song for an HOUR... to find that one. I'm content with it.

it was actually kinda coincidental that she had started showing up again on the dash when i was wrapping up this wip, for some reason it took me literal ages to get finished up BUT i am HAPPY WITH IT! she is GORGEOUS and i love her so so much !!!

every cowgirl drawing of mine so far has been one I'm very proud of, and i think that is such a transgirl W in my books /silly — i really admire drawing her features though honestly ; you can zoom in and see that she has a bit of freckles and a bit of fuzz and a bit of a smile and she is just so AHHHh i love adding the tiny details man ... .

speaking of details, peep the background that i drew out quite a bit of their room ?!! i loved drawing that in there, idk why — something about the drawing at first just looked really blank, she needed a bit of environment. and like, finding reference photos for the room is actually kinda hard ??? 😭 at least for me it is, idk, maybe I'm just looking in the wrong spots /nm+silly

i like to imagine that cowgirl had to kind of learn both by herself & with her brothers how to braid, learning from whatever rare interaction she had with Mama when she tried braiding soda's hair when they were babies, and then here and there from angela too i think ... it's an interesting concept ; angela & cowgirl sharing their femininty, i mean (in a good way, i like their dynamic a lot in that aspect)

but look at how proud and content she is in this moment doing it all by herself! :D

i like to think she becomes quite the pro of doing twin braids, not even having to stress to use a mirror to get it centered, she's got it on LOCK (there are curls flying out EVERYWHERE. she is looking a MESS. but it's okay, it's only for sleep anyways) and she does them eeeevery night before bed

i know it doesn't look much like it, but she is in fact wearing sleep fabrics 💀 the skirt looks kind of jean-y with the color, but i have this vision of girly reaaaally liking blues to wear, so .. .. blah. AND ALSO LIKE? it's a good contrast with the background, so who cares, you shouldn't 🤨 /silly

anyways, when finishing up this draft i went down a RABBIT HOLE of the cowgirl tag & pinterest just trying to find a good outfit inspiration for her, she was originally gonna have PANTS actually (like sleeping pajama pants ykyk) but i changed my mind when i remembered this doodle gif i had of her being in this exact outfit and shaking her around in a jar (for context, it was for an ask that read "shaking cowgirl curtis up in a jar" to which i replied: "real." and made this)

in the outfit she originally IS sleeveless, but... it's my outfit, who gives a fuck /silly

anyways, i worried a bit she looked too much like cherry here BUT ALSO... my cherry design honestly does not look much like cowgirl so 💀 i think it's just a lighting concern is all i had in the moment, i think she looks fine though

either way, it's always such a delight to doodle a headcanon design ; cowgirl is so so dear to me ... i love her very dearly :'3

speaking of headcanon — i feel as though it's mandatory to say " happy pride month everynyan " in this post as i have been with all my other pride related posts, so happy pride month !

(if you follow the Pride Calendar (do people still do that?) we're in our acespec section of the month, BUT... hey we can still celebrate mtf a few days in advance :3)

alright I'm all out of ramble juice, it's past my usual sleeping time SO !!! i hope this drawing is enjoyed and loved ... i put all of my enjoyment and love into it /silly+gen ... and good morning, good evening and goodnight to anyone reading !!!