#and suddenly you're throwing objects

[fire-on-fuel]

People talk a lot of shit about the jedi order like its their culty evangelical basement church when it's actually more like a vaguely spiritual cbt therapy office that has a great track record in helping people unless your brain happens to be structured the way that makes going to more than 5 sessions of it the equivalent of flipping the Need To Hurt Something switch

[yandere-sins]

You trying to run away from Caleb and him using his gravity manipulation Evol 😍😍

Omg, and it's not even just when you run away... You have such a good point, anon ♥

❥ Imagine finally outsmarting him and getting a chance to run. Caleb could simply put you down with a sweep of his hands, but instead, he makes your surroundings work against you. The gravel beneath your feet rolls back towards him, making you trip over yourself as you can't get away from the spot. Leaves and branches fall down on you/hitting you in the face and obscuring your sight, so you stumble, lose your direction, and run right back into his arms. He has them open for you, always. But his grip is iron-tight now that you showed him your desire to get away. Caleb can't have you try that again, you understand that, right?

❥ But, of course, after your second attempt, even he gets frustrated with you. It's child's play to slam you onto the ground, even if it hurts you. You didn't want to listen, so maybe the cuts and bruises will teach you. But you aren't the only one who learns because Caleb quickly realizes how devilishly fun it is to see you struggle. He just needs to soften his evol for a moment, so you think you can get up and run again before he breaks your spirits by applying the pressure of gravity again, bringing you down and dragging you towards him slowly. Your pain doesn't even concern him, not when he still sees you willing to fight him. You, never giving up, is like a drug that goes straight to his brain. He'll let you fight against the pull, lets you think you have a fair fighting chance as he taunts you with deliberate, slow steps in your direction, his shoes clicking menacingly on the floor. You're so cute—feisty and hopeful as you still are, and Caleb experiences the most sadistic pleasure to see your will bend and break, snap right into pieces as he grabs you by the neck and licks your bloody, swollen lips. He's like a kid licking his pancakes to keep his siblings from eating them, but the notion is the same: You're his.

❥ Caleb also uses it to disarm you in case you ever get your hands on something you really shouldn't. It's fun to see you struggle while you try to keep the weapon and yourself from being dragged towards him. And it almost drives him crazy to hear your surprised gasp when you accidentally let go of the object, and it almost does get close to hurting him. A second ago, you were all big and threatening, and suddenly, you feel bad for him, it's amusing. Next thing you know, you are on his lap, getting playfully chided for trying to get rid of him, and how you need to do better than that since you didn't even come close. If the weapon is reachable, you almost have a chance of getting to it again and trying to hurt him. Still, it's all just a game for him, and he might let himself get cut just so he can punish you properly while trying to deny how happy he is about playing with you.

❥ However, he draws the line at you trying to hurt yourself. See, it's all fun and game until your life is on the line. You are pulled into his arms with the weapon immediately slapped, ripped, or, if he has to, broken from your hand. The only one allowed to hurt you is Caleb, and he makes no laughing matter out of your attempt to blackmail him with your life. You don't know how much harm you can do to yourself while his actions are always calculated. Even when it seems like his slamming you to the floor is cruel, unless you give him a real reason (like hurting yourself), he won't actually mess you up. Caleb will even help you stabilize your wounds after he seriously hurt you, trying to disarm you, but it's all just to show you not to mess with him. Show you that his evol can do way more than throw you around and hurt your ego and will to fight. You don't get to argue with him on your security, not even for a second. Caleb simply won't entertain these kinds of threats, and it will make it harder for you to get close to dangerous items in the future. Also, he will be pouting and ignoring you for a while, you really hurt him with your actions. Maybe try apologizing. Please! :(

❥ Despite everything, Caleb does a few nice things with his evol. You might be forced to watch movies and cuddle with him, but he'll draw the blanket you like so much closer or fetch you your drink if it's out of reach. You won't have to leave the comfort he provides (albeit unwillingly). He also saved you from things falling on you by pulling them and (much preferred) you out of the way and into his hold. Sometimes, he catches food before it lands on your newly worn shirt. Yeah, he's that kind of nice (even though he likes to laugh at how upset you are when it does happen). The more you are on his good side, the more he'll do nice things for you, and his evol will be an exclusive power for you to use. He likes to tease you endlessly, and his psychotic behavior worries you sometimes, but you will learn that Caleb would do anything to keep you by his side, preferably happy and in love with him. Even if it means he'll become the weapon you can use to set the world on flames if only you play your cards right.

[solxamber]

I loved the platonic Malleus helps Yuu get Idia fic and I was wondering if you could so something similar with Cater or Trey or Vil or Leona or Floyd? You can choose, anything like that would be amazing my liege.

you asked and i answered, i love this concept so much

Fae Courtship 101: Romance for Dummies || Floyd Leech

In your desperation to confess to Floyd, you made the grave mistake of recruiting Malleus for help—now the only thing you’re courting is death.

For reasons beyond mortal comprehension—beyond your own comprehension—you have fallen for Floyd Leech.

Floyd. Leech.

The man who treats personal space like a suggestion, bites people for fun, and once chased a first-year across campus while laughing like a slasher villain because he was “bored.”

The man who once tried to sell you to Azul in exchange for a really nice hat. The man who could, at any given moment, be contemplating something as simple as “what’s for lunch” or something as horrifyingly chaotic as “what if I threw the prefect off the third-floor balcony to see how they bounce?”

It’s a bad idea. Objectively, scientifically, in every single way, this is a mistake.

Grim and Deuce have been holding interventions. The ghosts of Ramshackle have been looking at you like they’re already preparing to welcome you into their ranks. You're rapidly losing the moral high ground in any discussion about Ace’s bad life choices.

But the heart wants what it wants. And unfortunately, yours wants to make terrible decisions.

Which brings you here, pacing alongside Malleus Draconia, crown prince of Briar Valley, king of ominous nighttime strolls, and your designated therapist for the evening.

“I just—I don’t get it, Malleus!” you wail, gesturing wildly as you stomp through the moonlit campus. “I should like normal people! People who don’t consider attempted murder to be a love language! I should have instincts!”

Malleus hums in thought. “Hm. Concerning.”

“Exactly!” You throw your hands up. “I should be running in the opposite direction! Instead, I’m over here, wondering if he’d bite me gently if I asked nicely!”

Malleus stops walking.

You stop too, looking over to see him gazing at you with a carefully neutral expression. There’s a brief silence. A beat. And then, slowly—gravely—he nods.

“Understood.”

You blink. “...Huh?”

He turns to you with the air of a man who has just accepted a sacred duty. “You have chosen a perilous path, Child of Man.”

You stare. “I—??"

“But fear not,” he continues, raising a hand to his chest in solemn promise. “I shall help you attain your romance.”

Silence.

A breeze rolls through the courtyard. A crow caws in the distance. Somewhere, Grim is experiencing a deep sense of foreboding.

“…You’re going to what?”

Malleus nods again, expression determined. “Leave it to me.”

You suddenly have so many regrets.

Grim looks at you the way a doctor looks at a patient about to flatline. Gravely. With pity. With deep concern for the irreversible damage.

"Okay, listen hench-human, I’ve let a lot of things slide, but this? This I gotta ask—do you hate life that much?"

You blink at him. "What?"

Grim waves his little paws dramatically. "First, you fall for Floyd of all people. That’s already a death wish. And now, you’re actually listening to Malleus for dating advice? What’s next? You gonna ask Kalim for tips on financial responsibility?!"

You open your mouth. Close it. You… okay, you really have no defense. But before you can say anything—

There’s a knock at the door.

And you don’t even have to guess who it is.

You open it to find Malleus standing there, his expression set in earnest determination. In his hands is a book that looks older than your grandmother. The kind of ancient tome that looks like it holds dark secrets, forbidden spells, possibly even a recipe for soup made from human souls.

Standing right next to him, grinning like a goblin, is Lilia.

You feel your soul leave your body.

"Ah, Child of Man," Malleus intones. "I have found it. The ultimate guide to fae courtship rituals. You shall use these techniques to win the heart of your eel."

"Oh, this is gonna be fun," Lilia cackles. "Do you know how long it's been since I’ve seen these methods in action? The devastation! The absolute carnage!"

You stare at them. You stare into the abyss. The abyss grins back.

Grim looks at you, his face a perfect picture of someone watching a loved one make the worst life decisions in real time.

"You’re really doin’ this, huh?"

…You sigh. "Yeah. I’m really doing this."

You are simply minding your own business, walking to class like a normal person, when you spot Floyd approaching from the other end of the hallway.

As always, you smile at him, because you have fully accepted your fate as a fool with horrible taste in men. You expect him to either grin back or threaten to suplex you for fun—classic Floyd things.

What you do not expect is the sudden sensation of a phantom hand shoving you forward.

And just like that, gravity wins.

You crash into Floyd with all the grace of a drunk goose, smacking into his chest with enough force to send both of you stumbling. Floyd barely moves (because he is built like a problem), but you rebound like a cartoon character, nearly falling over before his hands land heavily on your shoulders.

For a brief, dizzying moment, you stare at him.

Then, slowly, your brain remembers what just happened, and you whip around—

Only to see Malleus standing at the end of the hallway, looking extremely pleased with himself.

He gives you a smug, regal nod.

He is also holding a book titled "How to Romance for Dummies."

You are going to throw hands with a literal prince.

Before you can implode, Floyd’s grip on your shoulders tightens. You turn back to him, only to find him looking entirely too displeased about being your impromptu landing pad.

“Shriiiimpy,” he drawls, squinting at you like a judge in a courtroom drama. “What’s up with that, huh? Tryna tackle me first thing in the morning?”

“I—I tripped!” you stammer, trying to collect the shreds of your dignity. “I didn’t mean to crash into you, I swear!”

Floyd hums, unconvinced. Then, after a beat of consideration, he shrugs.

“Aaah, whatever.” His fingers dig just slightly into your shoulders, a slow grin stretching across his face. “You still ran into me, soooo… you owe me.”

You blink. “Wait. Owe you?”

“Mhm!” His grin widens, teeth sharp. “Now ya gotta hang out with me today.”

You blink again. Slowly. You could argue, but you have a sneaking suspicion that it won’t get you anywhere, and honestly? Maybe this is exactly the opening you need.

Maybe… Malleus isn’t that bad at this.

You take that last thought back immediately.

Because not even a day after that whole hallway fiasco, Malleus finds you again, pulls you aside with all the gravitas of an ancient ruler about to bestow divine wisdom, and insists that, in order to properly court Floyd, you must—

Compliment Floyd’s strength three times. At first, you thought, okay, easy enough, I can just tell him he’s strong and call it a day. But then—THEN—Malleus, in his infinite wisdom, handed you a quill and parchment and declared, “It must be in verse. Poetry carries the weight of true devotion.”

And now, here you are.

Standing in front of Floyd Leech. Holding a piece of paper with the most cringe-inducing attempt at poetry you've ever written in your life.

Floyd, to his credit, was already giggling the moment you approached with a look of sheer suffering. But when you clear your throat and attempt to actually read the thing—

"Oh mighty Floyd, with hands so bold—"

He just. Loses it.

Absolutely wheezing, doubling over, practically using you as a support beam to keep himself upright.

You glare at him and continue, determined to power through:

"A force unmatched, a tale retold—"

Floyd: "PFT—!!!"

He’s straight-up crying at this point. Tears. You swear you hear Jade laugh somewhere in the distance.

You don’t even make it to the third compliment. You just turn on your heel and walk away before your soul crumples in on itself like a dying star.

Malleus, watching from afar, sighs in clear disappointment. “You lack dedication,” he murmurs, shaking his head like an elder watching the youth fail at life.

You absolutely regret everything.

You don't know why you keep letting Malleus give you advice. Actually, no—that's a lie. You do know. It's because the second he heard you liked Floyd, his eyes lit up like he’d just been given a personal quest by the divine forces of romance, and now he refuses to rest until your love is secured.

Unfortunately, this means you are currently locked in yet another horrendous discussion about fae courting rituals.

"Scent-marking is a vital step in courtship," Malleus declares with the kind of grim authority that should be reserved for battlefields, not this. "He must recognize you as his."

You blink at him. "Oh, like giving him my hoodie or something?" That’s normal. That’s doable. That’s the kind of thing people do when they like each other, right? You’ve seen couples swap sweaters before. Maybe Malleus is finally onto something not-insane.

Malleus shakes his head gravely. "No. You must present him with something you have personally scented. Ideally, by rolling upon it."

Silence.

Rolling upon it.

You stare at him. He stares back. Completely serious.

You try to process what he’s just suggested. What he has just, with full sincerity, told you to do.

"Malleus."

"Yes?"

"You want me to roll around on an object like a dog and then give it to Floyd."

"Precisely."

You briefly consider just walking into the ocean.

It takes twenty full minutes to talk him down from this absolute lunacy and convince him that simply giving Floyd a sweater you’ve worn will do the job just fine. He looks at you the way a disappointed coach looks at a failing athlete.

"If you are not dedicated to the craft," he mutters, "you cannot expect great results."

You pretend you don’t hear him.

Fast forward to the next day, and you are sitting in class next to Floyd, who is draped over his desk in a deep and powerful boredom coma.

You pull out the sweater and awkwardly nudge it toward him.

"Here."

Floyd immediately perks up. Dangerously interested. He tilts his head, peering at the sweater like you’ve just handed him a rare treasure.

"Eh? What's this?"

"It's mine. You can have it," you say, trying to play it cool, despite the fact that your entire soul is trying to flee your body from embarrassment.

Floyd picks up the sweater and—without hesitation—presses his face into it.

You almost die. Right then and there. Instant expiration.

He leans back in his chair, grinning way too wide. "Heheh~ You smell nice, shrimpy~"

You barely manage to hold onto your composure. You are barely hanging on.

Malleus, watching from the hallway, narrows his eyes and mutters, "It is not the worst effort... but it lacks the impact of true commitment."

You ignore him. You ignore everything. You're just grateful that—for once—this wasn’t completely unhinged, and that Floyd somehow seems to like it.

"Nothing says romance like a meal made with your own two hands!" Lilia declares, slamming an ancient, definitely cursed cookbook onto the table.

You blink down at it. The title is in some language that makes your vision swim just looking at it. The edges are charred, the pages stained with substances you’re 70% sure are not food-safe, and Malleus—Malleus Draconia himself, looks a little unsure.

That should have been your first hint.

But you? A fool. An idiot. A desperate, love-struck buffoon? You press forward.

“Alright,” you sigh, rubbing your temples, already regretting this. “What ingredients do I need?”

Lilia beams, flipping to a page that looks like it came from an alchemist’s horror novel.

"Let's see! We’ll need:"

• Moonshade Truffle,

• A pinch of Sablethorn Dust,

• Three drops of Evernight Basilisk Extract,

• Seven Tears of a Joyful Banshee,

• And a Love-Smitten Fire Spirit’s Breath!

…

You stare.

"Lilia."

"Yes, beastie?"

"These sound like potion ingredients."

"Oh-ho!" Lilia chuckles, waving a hand. "You humans always get so caught up in technicalities. But what is cooking if not a kind of magic?"

…No. No, this is actual magic. You are not making a love potion, but this sure as hell sounds like one.

But, like the fool you are, you go along with it. You spend far too much money (your entire savings) at Azul’s Most Definitely Not a Scam Emporium for all of these ridiculous ingredients. He knows you’re up to something dumb. He does not care. He simply profits.

And now, here you are. In the Ramshackle kitchen. Grim watches from a safe distance behind a chair. Malleus stands off to the side with his arms crossed, looking like he is rethinking his life choices. And Lilia, that menace, is watching you mix the ingredients like a proud mentor.

Everything is going fine. Suspiciously fine.

And then—

"Alright, time to bake it!" Lilia claps his hands. "It says here to bake at 350 for 20 minutes!"

You nod. This is reasonable.

"However!" He flips the page. "In the olden days, we used a slightly different method."

Malleus frowns. Your stomach drops.

"Instead of 350 for 20 minutes…" Lilia hums. "It says here—750 for 10!"

…

"What."

"Don’t be shy! Give it a try!" Lilia gestures for you to do it.

Malleus shifts, looking like he wants to intervene. Grim is slowly backing out of the room. You ignore all of this.

Because you are an idiot.

You turn the oven to 750. You shove the pan inside. You watch in real-time as your dignity burns.

The oven makes a sound ovens should not make.

Something explodes. The smell is indescribable.

When you pull the pan out, it is a pile of pure, blackened charcoal.

You are horrified. Malleus looks concerned. Grim looks betrayed.

"Are ya tryin’ to kill me, Henchhuman?!" Grim yells. "I thought we were friends!"

But Lilia? Lilia is nodding approvingly.

"Ah," he sighs, nostalgic. "Just like how I remember it."

…This man should not be allowed in kitchens.

But you, an absolute buffoon, take the charred remains of your so-called courtship offering and bring it to Floyd anyway.

You find him in the cafeteria, dump the plate in front of him, and sit down. Defeated.

Floyd stares. Pokes it with a finger.

And then, he looks at you.

With pity.

"Shrimpy." His voice is gentle. You feel a chill of fear. "You goin' through hard times or somethin'?"

…

You die inside.

Your cooking was so bad that Floyd Leech—FLOYD LEECH—was feeling sympathy for you.

You have never known such shame.

You sit there, staring into the distance like a soldier who’s seen too much. A philosopher pondering the futility of existence. A person who has scent-marked a sweater and written poetry at the behest of a fae prince who thinks you’re simply not dedicated enough to the craft of love.

You are contemplating life, death, and the many, many decisions that have led you here.

And then, Jade sits beside you.

You don’t even flinch. You should. You should be wary. You should immediately launch yourself into the bushes and prepare to be interrogated in some terrifying eel version of psychological warfare. But you don’t. Because you have nothing left.

So you just turn your head slowly, look at him with the dull, hollow eyes of someone who’s really going through it.

Jade looks positively delighted.

"My, my," he says, in that syrupy, knowing voice of his. "What could possibly put you in such a state?"

You inhale. Exhale. Consider your options. Death is looking really attractive.

"I don’t want to talk about it."

Jade hums, obviously entertained, but then—then—he decides to make it worse.

"You know," he muses, "even Floyd has started to get concerned."

You blink.

"…Huh?"

"Oh, yes," he says, resting his chin on his hand, enjoying every second of this. "Between the odd gifts, the unusual behavior, and your general aura of suffering, even he has begun to notice. Which means you are being particularly obvious, because he rarely pays attention to anything that isn't entertaining."

You don’t even have the energy to be embarrassed.

"What’s your point?" you mutter.

Jade smiles like a predator about to land a final, devastating strike.

"You should simply tell him. Because this…?" He gestures vaguely at your soul-deep despair. "This is rather pitiful."

You stare.

You process.

And, somewhere in the depths of your heart, you realize he’s right.

You are in shambles.

Like, properly, horrifically, soul-crushingly in shambles. You’ve been through so much. You've spent weeks engaging in increasingly deranged behavior at the behest of a well-meaning yet hopelessly out-of-touch fae prince. You've endured ritual poetry readings, scent-marking disasters, and a culinary war crime that left you emotionally and financially bankrupt.

And now, standing in front of Floyd Leech—the very cause of your descent into insanity—you finally snap.

"I LIKE YOU!" you blurt, voice cracking like a cheap mirror. "I LIKE YOU AND I'VE BEEN ACTING LIKE A LUNATIC BECAUSE MALLEUS SAID I HAD TO FOLLOW FAE COURTSHIP RITUALS AND I—" your voice hiccups, borderline hysterical, "—I THINK I LOST A PIECE OF MY SOUL WHEN I TRIED TO BAKE THAT DAMN CAKE BUT IT'S FINE, BECAUSE APPARENTLY THAT'S JUST WHAT LOVE IS??? AND I DID IT ALL FOR YOU, FLOYD, BECAUSE I AM A DUMB IDIOT WHO LIKES YOU FOR SOME REASON."

You gasp for air, because this has been a lot.

And Floyd?

Floyd is laughing.

Not just a chuckle, either. No, this menace of a man is bent over, hands on his knees, actually wheezing with mirth as if you’ve just performed the comedy routine of the century. His shoulders shake. His teeth glint in the light. He looks absolutely delighted.

And you? You just stand there, a broken, hollow shell of a human being.

"You should’ve just told me, Shrimpy~!" he cackles, wiping a tear from his eye. "I like you too, y’know?"

...

There’s a moment of silence as your poor, battered brain struggles to process this information.

"WHAT."

Floyd grins, like you haven’t just endured weeks of psychological torment at the hands of a dragon prince. "I mean, you’re fun! You make me laugh, and I like squeezin’ ya. ‘Course I like ya!"

Before you can even begin to formulate a response, he lunges forward and grabs you in a hug so tight that your ribs beg for mercy. You are crushed, consumed, engulfed in the sheer force of his affection. Your spine may never recover, but at this point, what’s another injury to your dignity?

And honestly? You don’t care.

Because he likes you.

Floyd likes you back.

Which means—you realize, tears pricking your eyes in relief—you never have to perform another insane fae courtship ritual again.

No more humiliating poetry. No more dubious scent-marking. No more playing Russian roulette with your digestive system in the name of romance. You did it. You won.

And then Floyd leans down, cups your face, and kisses you.

It's a little rough, a little overwhelming, but you melt into it anyway, because Sevens, you earned this.

Somewhere in the distance, Malleus Draconia watches from the shadows.

Arms crossed, nodding sagely, he looks upon his greatest success.

"My expert techniques," he murmurs, pride swelling in his voice, "have secured my child of man their eel."

Behind him, Lilia wipes an imaginary tear.

"Beautiful," he sighs.

Masterlist

[rowarn]

shadow entity!ghost cw: it/its prns for ghost, protective!ghost, implied vomiting from a hangover, sexual assault by third party, implied murder of said third party, unedited /: part: one

it was strangely easy to fall into the life of living with an unknown shadowy entity in your house. it wasn't particularly talkative or friendly -- it was sort of like living with a really creepy, introverted roommate. except occasionally it made the atmosphere feel 5x heavier around you. and there was always the looming threat that it would kill you.

your life outside your home continued on -- college, work, and the difficulty of making friends now that you lived in a new city. a bar is where you happened to meet a guy -- phillip, you recall his name. he was older than you but seemed quite polite.

after a night of drinking, you return to your home, buzzed and happy. you stumble into the house, brows furrowed as you tossed your shoes off before collapsing in a heap onto your couch. the springs creaked under your weight and you groaned at how uncomfortable it was. but you weren't going to be able to make it to the bed, you knew that for sure.

just as you were drifting off to sleep, that familiar, heavy feeling filled the room.

"ghost..." you sighed, "i'm drunk."

"drunk?" its deep, echoing voice came in response, sounding almost confused.

you were too out of it to consider that too much, instead simply explaining, "i had too much to drink."

it hummed in response, offering nothing further. you finally relaxed letting you sleep overtake you.

only to wake up with a hangover. you jumped tot your feet the moment your eyes opened, throwing yourself over the toilet bowl. sweat beaded on the back of your neck as that oppressive feeling washed over you.

"are you still drunk?" it asked, making you groan.

"i fucking wish," you spit into the toilet, cringing at the awful taste that still lingered on your tongue before sitting back and leaning against the wall, "this is what i get for drinking, i guess."

"drinking?" it asks, curiosity lacing its tone.

you hummed, "you know, alcohol," it remained silent and you raised a brow, "what? you didn't drink alcohol when you were alive? jeez, what century were you from?"

"i am alive," it responds easily.

you grunted, "right, right. you're not actually a ghost, that's right. so what--"

your phone obnoxiously ringing stopped you short. you stood, steadying yourself using the wall before you stumbled out into the living room to find the device. it was sitting on the floor, clearly having fallen there sometime while you slept.

when you answered it, the familiar voice from last night spoke -- asking you out on a date. as much as you wanted to say no because of the raging headache currently pounding behind your eyes, the desire for actual human connection after being away from your friends for so long urged you to agree.

so you did.

the date went surprisingly well, he was a gentleman and polite with a bit of a sense of humor that had you grinning through the entire dinner. he even paid for both your meals and by the time the two of you were walking out, you were more than willing to invite him over to your place.

"ah, but," you cleared your throat as you stood on your doorstep, suddenly remembering the problem inside, "i have a uh...roommate. it- he is a little odd. i-if you hear any...weird sounds, just ignore it. he's kind of flighty and shouldn't bother us otherwise."

"that's alright, sweetheart," phillip assured, offering you a kind smile as he followed you inside.

when you stepped in, you were relieved that you didn't feel ghost's presence.

"do you want a drink?" you ask, wandering towards the kitchen.

"sure, darlin'," he mumbled, looking around your place.

"have a seat if you'd like," you smile, disappearing into the kitchen.

as you grab a glass, a familiar, dark form takes its humanoid shape in the corner. you jump, almost dropping the object before you glare at it.

"ghost," you hiss, keeping your voice low so your guest doesn't hear you, "don't scare me like that." it remained silent, simply standing there. you could feel eyes burning into you, making the hairs rise on the back of your neck, "look, he's just gonna be here for a little while, okay? then he'll leave. just...don't do anything, alright?"

it remained silent, it's shadowy figure wriggling and shifting with varying shades of darkness. you tried not to stare too long -- staring into that murky black always had you seeing weird, scary things from within that disappeared the second you blinked.

"ghost," you urged it to answer you.

it didn't offer any response before vanishing. you sigh in relief but still feel apprehensive that it was going to do something to scare your guest. phillip was the first real, human connection you had since moving here and you weren't about to let that little shadowy shithead ruin it.

you plastered a smile on your face before greeting him back in the living room. phillip grins and thanks you for the water, taking a few sips before placing the glass on your table.

after a few moments, sitting up and making sure that ghost wasn't going to make an appearance, you settled into the couch and turned on the tv -- the otherwise deafening quiet of the house really stifled the atmosphere.

the energy between you and phillip grew and grew until you found yourself kissing him right there on the couch. as you pulled away to take a breath, he dove back in immediately, pushing you onto your back. you frowned, hands moving to his shoulders to push him back a little bit. he didn't mind, moving his lips down to your neck and to your neckline.

"h-hey, slow down, phillip," you mutter, pushing a little more forcefully at his shoulders.

"can't," he breathes, sounding positively drunk on you, "i've wanted you since i first laid eyes on you."

you roll your eyes, frowning when his fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, "hey-! i told you to stop!"

as soon as the words fell from your lips, the lights flickered dangerously. phillip didn't seem to notice but you knew immediately. your guests hands continued to wander and you kept trying to push him off to no avail.

"s-seriously, stop it," you cried, growing more nervous as the seconds passed.

how could a simple need for human connection turn out so rotten?

"don't want to," phillip huffs, "i know you want me too, baby."

"no!" you shriek.

then, all at once, something terrifyingly heavy fills the room. you know that sensation all too well -- it was the night you first saw ghost's shadowy form.

phillip paused, no doubt feeling that same dark feeling looming over the both of you, making it hard to breathe. he looks confused, "what the-?"

the floorboards creaked, loud, booming footsteps coming from some unknown place in the living room. it sounded right next to you yet across the room at the same time.

darkness surrounded the both of you, blocking out the living room completely until all you could see was darkness. somehow, your eyes were able to adjust, seeing phillip's petrified face, a strange, purple filter seemingly coloring the both of you within the shadow.

"close your eyes," it's voice sounded completely different now. though it didn't address you, you knew it was talking to you so you quickly did as you were told and slammed your eyelids shut.

your breathing was labored and loud as was phillips. he sounded terrified.

"what the fuck?!" he cried, a petrified kind of voice you'd only ever heard in movies.

then, a scream. an animalistic, horrified scream you didn't know could come from a human being. you squeezed your eyes shut tighter before slapping your hands over your ears to drown it out. but it was impossible, it was too loud -- too horrific to block out.

the scream was cut off, complete silence following that made your ears ring. you couldn't resist opening your eyes to see what had happened.

but there was nothing.

just the inky blackness of ghost's shadow. no sign of phillip to be seen.

slowly, the darkness dissipated, taking shape in that familiar, humanoid form. your living room came back into view and your eyes adjusted painfully to the sudden light.

"ghost?" you pant, finding it difficult to catch your breath after that. you look around frantically, "what was that? what did you do? where did he go?"

ghost didn't respond, shadowy form flickering in and out and sight before vanishing completely. you frowned, heart racing in your chest so painfully that it made your head pound.

you looked around, for any sign of the man you had brought home. but there wasn't a single sign he had ever even been there. it was silent in your home aside from the tv playing in the background.

you sunk into the cushions of the couch, unsure of anything that had just happened. you were starting to doubt that phillip had even been there to begin with.

but on the floor was a black scorch marked circle. right where ghost had stood.

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

objects in the mirror | j. togame

✮ tags ; afab!reader + fem!reader, reader is so painfully dense / naive, ambiguous relationships, friends to ???, somewhat unrelieved sexual tension, sex toys, guided masturbation kinda, kissing, groping, nipples play, squirting, dialogue heavy, vaguely post canon, petnames (kame-chan and jo-chan for togame, baby for reader) 18+

✮ wc ; 6.4k (you have got to be fucking with me)

✮ a/n ; the one fic i wont be mad if you ask for part two on lolol. title from a mac miller song (my favorite mac miller song) that reminds me of a lot of characters but i felt really fit this fic.

go listen to it. his best track. also this like... mega got away from me. togame sorry for blueballing you.

✮ synopsis ; your only goal is to have a half-way decent orgasm. togame, as your best friend, is determined to help you reach it.

"So," Togame leans back into your bed. "You bought a vibrator and... can't use it? Because you keep psyching yourself out?"

"Yeah," You sigh with your head hung low. "Paid good money for it and it's collecting dust in my drawer. I'm miserable."

Togame smiles a little from where he's laid across the width of your bed, back propped up against the wall slightly with his legs hanging off one edge. You kick his side lightly as he fails to contain his amusement.

"Do you enjoy seeing me suffer, huh? You take amusement in my pain, you bastard?"

"Pfft," He snickers, turning a little to face you better. "It's kinda hard not too. Just seems..."

"You think it's stupid," You frown. He scratches his jaw.

"I wouldn't say that. A little silly but—"

"Which is another word for stupid," You point out. He shakes his head.

"The connotations different. Stupid would mean I'm insulting you. I don't think it's stupid. Ridiculous, maybe." And then he laughs to himself like a jackass. "No... I take it back. It's definitely ridiculous."

"You asshole. I should kick you out of my house."

He smiles knowingly, lazy and bemused. "You're not gonna,"

Smug bastard. You groan in defeat. "But I should."

He doesn't reply, brushing you off as easy as ever. "Sorry. Just not sure what exactly you want me to do with that information."

You throw your hands up in the air. "I dunno? Fucking help me. Offer solutions. Use whats left of your brain after getting the shit beat out of you as a teenager. Something."

"Now who's being an asshole." He quips. You frown.

"I'm sorry," You say easily. Togame smiles softly though you miss it while you're looking away. "But...ugh."

"Got such a way with words." He hums sarcastically before sobering a touch. He's scrolling through his phone not entirely paying attenion. "I don't really get why you're askin' me. Don't you have better candidates for this conversation?"

You give him a long-suffering look. "No. Unfortunately I live here, so the answer is not really. I can't talk to Kotoha or Tsubaki about this. We talk about guys and stuff but it's usually pretty PG."

"So I'm your stand in for a girl best friend?"

You tilt your head. "Huh? No. You're just my best friend. I would bitch to you about this either way."

He stares at you for a long while before scrubbing a hand down his face. You can't understand his sudden reaction, watching in confusion as he takes a deep breath.

"Right. Right, I'm your best friend." Togame mutters mostly to himself, sighing before going back to his usual demeanor. He rubs his under his eye. "Really dunno what you're asking for. You can whine however much you want, though."

"I'm not whining," You pause before sighing again. "Okay. Maybe I am whining, like, a little. But you would too if you were me, okay? I want to..." You make a face, the words suddenly feeling clumsy on your lips. You're not even doing anything and you're getting all weird about it. "I just wanna...cum."

Togame pauses. He sits up, sort of suddenly after that and finally has the decency to take off his boots. He scoots to the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor to do it, and you can't see his face when he speaks again. You don't think twice about it.

"Have you not? Like... ever?"

"Huh? No, I have but it's not really satisfying. It doesn't scratch the itch for me, you know? That's what the toy was for."

Togame takes another minute or two of silence as he takes off his boots. You wonder if it always takes him so long to take them off. Seems inconvenient.

He goes back to laying down, leaning on the wall with his legs spread out. "What kinda toy is it anyway?

"Oh, it's—" You stop in the middle of your sentence, brow furrowing. "Wait. Should I be telling you this?"

"Are you suddenly gaining self-awareness? Little late for that." He smiles.

"That's true," You reply, relaxing again with your arms crossed. "Nothing complicated. A rabbit vibrator, but the kinda expensive ones."

"How much?"

"Twelve-thousand yen. I got it on sale too,"

"No wonder you're so peeved you can't use it," Togame comments evenly. "A lot of money to be collecting dust. You even take it out the box?"

You deflate all over again. "Yeah. Charged it. Cleaned it too. But I put it back."

"Lemme see,"

"Huh? Oh, okay. Sure."

You don't bother asking why Togame wants to see your sex toy. It doesn't occur to you that there'd be any reasons outside of plain curiosity which you can understand. Togame dated a girl long-term so he knows some things, but you figure any girl with a decent boyfriend wouldn't need to make the same use of toys as you do. It'd make sense he's never seen one up close and personal.

You scoot to the edge of the bed and lean slightly as you open the side drawer and pull the toy out where it sits in nice, cardboard package. You pass it off to Togame before sitting back comfortably against your headboard.

He sits the box in his lap and stares at it for a long while.

You wonder if this is weird.

It doesn't bother you much either way, but it it is...

Odd, just how long Togame stares at it. He undoes the top of the folded box, pulling it back to reveal the soft, baby blue vibrator. It's six inches long and curved, with a soft rubber attachment to stimulate your clit and angle for your g-spot at the same time. Made with a high quality velveteen silicone. It has a lot of settings, and does the sort of rumbly vibrations you know feel good as opposed to the mechanical buzz of cheaper kinds.

Completely unused, Togame holds in his hands for a while, grabbing it by the ends. He doesn't touch it in a way that's weird. More like he assesses it. Measures it. You don't know for what though.

"It's cute."

"Huh?"

"The vibrator, I mean." Togame comments, putting it back in the box. His expression is unreadable. Something simmers under the surface of his neutral face but you can't place what exactly. "It's a cute color and the little pointed part here is cute."

You place a hand on your chest and close your eyes in sincerity. "Thank you. I also think I have excellent aesthetic taste."

Another pause. Brief but not.

"Do you want help using it?"

"Wha—"

"The vibrator," Togame clarifies before you get through the rest of your sentence. "Do you want me to help you use it?"

Your mind blanks. Your mouth moves faster than you can.

"...In what way?"

Togame remains steady. "Getting you comfortable and putting in you. As far as solutions go, it's the best I've got."

...Huh?

"Wouldn't that be awkward for you?"

"Is it awkward for you?" Togame replies back.

You stop to consider the question then shake your head.

"I mean...It's you. I trust you and I'm grateful but this..." You furrow your brow and look towards him. "Can you really do something like that with me? Just to help me?"

"Yeah." He replies. The words come so easily to him you're startled. Was he always this casual? You guess in a way but still. It's surprising. "It's the most direct route to solve your problem, I think. Once you've done it once with someone else, you'll definitely be able to do it alone right?"

You reason about this and find it's a somewhat optimal solution. You can't figure out the exact source of your unease about all of it, though it's there. You can't figure out Togame either. You appreciate how much he seems to want to help you but it doesn't make your worries go away.

You frown a little deeper.

"You're thinking about it too hard." Togame interjects. His tone is warm and easy.

"You're not thinking about it hard enough," You respond back. "What are you trying to do anyway? To help."

"Scratch the itch for you. Just think of it like that."

"Does that do anything for you?"

He dodges the question. "Don't worry about me. I'm offering. Promise it's fine."

You frown with your legs crossed, staring at the empty space of the bed. "...I g-guess it's fine? I can't think of a reason to say no."

"You don't mind doing this with me? Or is it because you're okay with anyone?"

You shake your head.

"What are you saying? Of course it's because you're the one asking. I trust you."

He smiles genuinely at that, eyes closed in what seems like relief. "I just wanted to make sure."

Togame opens his eyes again and casts them your way. Your breathing feels shallow under the weighted glance. He sits up a little more and shrugs his jacket off his shoulders, placing it on the pillow next to you. He feels broader without the layer of fabric over his torso, white shirt stretching over his frame as he sits on the bed on his knees.

"Lay down. Get comfortable."

You nod, adjusting the pillows and things and trying not to feel self-conscious or get cold feet. It speaks to your desperation that you're taking this help so willingly and from your long time best friend no less. In the back of your head, you do feel a little strange.

Togame is just being a good friend, that's what you tell yourself. You believe it too.

He hovers above you first. You tilt your head to look at him, the short gap of space between you feeling particularly small while also being miles wide. Your stomach flutters as Togame's eyes fix on your lips.

He leans forward and presses his mouth to yours. It's chaste. You wonder if you look even half as surprised as you feel.

"What was that for?"

"Breaking the ice."

You mumble. "Oh..."

Togame kisses you again that time, and then one more time before speaking up. "You're so naive."

"Huh? No I'm not,"

He brushes you off again that time before sitting up again. He sits between your legs where you have them spread. You have no idea what he's thinking or why he's doing this.

Unlike most people, you usually do have a good read on what Togame is feeling. He's upfront most of the time, despite his posturing seeming wishy-washy. It's a little weird to feel so out of bounds around him, like he purposely has his guard up. You wonder if that guard is for you, or for him. Is he uncomfortable somehow? Is he trying not to hurt your feelings by not being interested? You're not really expecting that.

But if that were the case, there's no reason he would help you this way.

Before you get too entranced in your thoughts, Togame snaps you out of them.

"How do you normally do this?"

You blink and look up.

"Do what?"

"Get off," Togame answers. Your eyes meet and you find yourself wanting to look away. "You said it was unsatisfying so I thought it'd be better if we started there,"

"Uhm," You feel embarrassed trying to talk about this. You're not sure why. It's not something you'd feel self-conscious outside this specific context but Togame just seems more... intense then usual. Like he's being serious about your silly problem. "D-depends? Sometimes I watch porn or listen to audios or read. Not always."

"Got it. How do you touch yourself then?"

He looks expectant. You turn your head to look away from him. The minutes tick by.

"Uhm... just rubbing my c-clit usually. I have uhm, other toys I'll use sometimes too but I need to touch my clit to get off." You wonder if these are too many details. Togame is listening to it so carefully. "Uhm. If i-its too sensitive I'll touch over my clothes too. Sometimes I cum like that."

His face shifts. It lingers long enough for you to notice but not enough for you to process what it was. He's back to his usual self so quickly you wonder if you've made the entire thing up.

"Right. I think I know what your problem is,"

You feel a little relieved at that. "Really?"

He pauses before smiling a little with a friendly nod that reminds you of how you were when you were kids, a face that's unexpectedly kind. "Really."

You look at him expectantly.

"I think you're not building up to it enough." Togame comments, smoothly. You blink at him. "You're a girl, you know? Can't jump straight into it, you need to stimulate yourself more first and relax. You're so focused on cumming it backfires. I'll help you."

"How...?"

"I'll help you relax and help you figure out what you like. Don't think about it too hard and focus on feeling good."

"You really don't have to do this for me," You mumble. He smiles at you.

"C'mon. You just said I was your best friend right? I don't mind, so chill out and let me help."

"Okay," You nod, bright eyed. "Okay....thank you."

He makes a face at you before nodding. "Uh-huh. Of course."

Togame hovers above you with lazy smile. You close your eyes on instinct as you feel your lips press together. His lips are softer than you thought they'd be. A hand cups the back of your neck and brings you closer to him. The weight of his body makes you self-conscious about his proximity. You can smell the scent of his skin, feel his presence surround you as he kisses you soft to start.

The shift in the air surrounding you is gradual in a way that reminds you so much of Togame. He's not intense at the beginning, never is really is - but then his hand goes to hold your knees and pull your legs up. His tongue slips against the closed seam of your lips until they part, until he touches yours and you have to reconfigure how you breathe. He's so good at kissing you it makes you wonder if he's kissed you before and you can't remember. But then it feels good and you're reminded—

If it felt this good there's no way you would've forgotten it.

When you pull away for air to breathe, or start to stumble through a question on how this is helping - Togame shuts you up. It takes it happening twice for you realize it's deliberate. Every time he kisses you a little deeper, and the last time he slips his tongue in so far you'd think he's trying to eat you whole.

You're wet. You're unsure if you're allowed to feel guilty about it, or if you're even meant too. Anyone would be turned on getting kissed like this. You're really unsure about all of this but you're fine because it's Togame. There's no way he'd do anything bad to you or for you.

He's over protective in general, though he's rarely frank about it.

(If you were any less clueless, you'd would know that most times Togame is doing his best to protect from himself. Most times, he feels like the biggest danger to you)

Togame pulls away from your lips when you moan a little. You feel embarrassed at the state your left in and how he looks at you. Picking you apart in his mind but not with ill intent. Like he wants to know every thread of your want.

Again, you think he's going to tease you. Light but still teasing.

"Does that feel good?"

It's a serious question. It stuns you. Just a little. His hand on the back of neck feels hot. You notice the way his thumb caresses your nape and try not to stutter.

"Uh..y-yeah." You reply, trying not to look stupid. "I like kissing. Uhm. In general."

He doesn't react to that, nods in a way you find curt in comparison to how passionately he was kissing you just moments ago. "It'll help you relax." And then, a little softly. "If you want to kiss again and we're not already, ask."

An odd request but you acquiesce with another soft noise.

"Do you feel a little warmed up?"

His eyes are so strangely shaded in this light. You open your mouth to the awkward confession. "Oh... nn. I'm... y-yeah. I'm wet already."

"From kissing?"

You give him a sheepish look. Togame responds with another kiss that makes you feel like you're being driven into a corner. This one is hot and heavy, doesn't build up but starts with an almost oppressive air. He nips at you, teeth tugging at your lips and licking in earnest to your mouth. Long and deep until your brain feels melty, your thoughts swimming and clouded. Longing for touch and release. Arousal threads through the fibers of your muscles, makes you feel wound up tight - a serpents coil. You clench your thighs on instinct at the worsening wetness.

Your mouth feels swollen and bitten when you pull away again and Togame looks a little more like you're used to him looking. An underlying sense of smug self-satisfactions on his face as he looks down at you, not outweighed by his genuine ease.

A look on his face like he likes your company. You find him comforting in how easy it is to see.

"Is it okay to touch you in other places?"

"Uhm. Anywhere above the belt is fine, I think."

"Makes sense,"

He leans up and slides both hands underneath your hoodie. You're not really prepared for... this. You don't know if you can call it sex or not but whatever it is, you weren't intending for it to happening.

"You're not wearing a shirt," His hands feel so big on your waist. Big and calloused, split skin scarred over from fighting. "A bra?"

"A sports bra."

"Right."

He slides your hoodie up over your torso until it's bare and takes your sports bra along with it in one go. Your tits fall from them with a soft swish with how quick he does it, the light bounce making your skin grown hot. Togame hovers above you as he eyes them, palms just underneath but not touching.

"Stop looking so hard."

He brushes past that. "They're nice."

"Shut up," You say for the first time. Togame smiles slightly.

"Not a nice way to talk to someone who's helping you," He says sarcastically. You pout but refuse to apologize. He remains unbothered then goes back to being alarmingly serious. "Do you play with them?"

"H-huh? When I masturbate? Not really. I've never thought too."

"Why's that?"

You shrug. "The guys I dated used to touch them but it mostly felt weird, not good. Never thought of trying on my own."

He gives you a looking asking for permission. You nod. This really does not feel normal but the arousal clouding your brain is a lot louder than your sense of shame.

Togame's hands slide up your sides until he's cupping the roundness of your chest. His thumbs hover against hardened nipples, constrained in the touch. It's different than how other guys have done it for you. He's paying attention to that bit most, and he's going about it softly. Pushing the hardened bud with a light flick that sends a jolt of shock through your body.

He's quick to notice your reaction, green eyes flickering up before doing it again. You squirm, stretching your legs and shifting as another tick of arousal goes through your whole body. Your clit is starting to throb so much it hurts. If it were you, you would've started touching yourself a long while ago. As soon as you felt yourself get wet.

Togame is taking his time, though. And you're feeling it so much it's a little shameful for you. He does it again, touching your nipples - both side at the same time. Your body is pushing for more.

You've managed to keep the noise down but you're pushed over your usual limits. A moan spills from your lips as you push up into his touch. "That's good, huh? Just needed it a little softer and more focused."

You try not to be any more embarrassing. Wouldn't anyone feel weird over this?

He's the most important person in your entire life, and he's seeing you like this. Not judging you, just remaining even and consistent. Teasing you but not enough to make you upset. He's being so careful. Is this the kind of boyfriend he is? You think that must make him popular, so then... why does it never work out? He's never dated anyone longer than a year.

But he's being so sweet to you despite not dating. He's always kind but this is different. You can't imagine who would see this part of him and break up.

You try not to think about any of this but the only other thing you can focus on is him rubbing your nipples and how nice it feels. The moan of his name is pitchy, sounds foreign to your own ears with how high and broken it is.

"Kame-chan," Your voice is warbly when you ask. You just want to stop thinking. "Kiss?"

He pauses. You think he's going to deny you at first.

"Fuck. That ain't fair, you know?"

You don't know what he means, but he complies and kisses you open mouthed as he plays with your tits. Rubs and flicks them just the way you like. It feels so good. You've never felt anything like it before. Your tummy flutters, honeyed lust dripping down your inner thighs.

Your body moves on it's own, your hands carding through his hair as arousal starts to pool. Your panties feels soaked and sticky, through the fabric. You shift again trying to relieve the feeling, brain scrambled by Togame's touch.

You're so horny you can't make sense of anything. Your body is a relentless echo of your wants and needs - demanding attention. His attention, specifically. Need curls up in your chest.

Between kisses you confess this to Togame, who you trust now more than ever despite feeling so incredibly vulnerable. How could you not go with it when he's taking such good care of you?

"Wanna cum so bad," You mutter, sloppy between kisses. Togame takes in a deep breath as he pulls away.

"You think you're worked up enough for it?"

You see through him instantly even in your haze. "Don't be mean to me, you jerk."

"Caught me, huh? Okay, okay. How do you normally do this?"

"Do what?"

"Fuck yourself with something,."

The words send heat sparking against your spine. You tuck your face against his jacket where it's laying besides you and huff. It smells like him. "Ngh. Usually finger myself a little first."

"Got a good idea then." He hums. The sound of his voice, low and smooth, makes you feel comforted. "I'll lay next to you and help keep you distracted while you open yourself up, yeah? Nothing below the belt 'n all. And when you're already I'll put in for you and turn it on."

You sniff. "Okay."

He smiles at you, pulling his hands and body away from you before laying besides you instead. He lets you rest your head against his arm and shoulders - sneaking the rest of his arm around and underneath you, squeezing one of your tits. He presses your body into him and gropes around the bed for the box with your toy, grabbing it from inside before shoving it away.

Up close, you can feel his muscles even better than you could. You wonder how someone so relaxed could be this built but try not to let it burden your brain. He smells so nice. Did he always? You feel too horny to remember, but you like it.

You can feel him glancing down at you, amused.

"Comfy?" Togame's voice vibrates through your whole body.

"Uh-huh."

"If you turn your head towards me I can kiss you and touch you. Keep your mind occupied a bit."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"It does right? Go ahead and start."

You think you should tell him not to watch. Keeps his eyes for himself. But the focus of his gaze makes you burn so much hotter you don't bother. He's already seen so much, anyway.

You shimmy out of your sweat pants until they're down at your ankles revealing your panties. Baby blue printed boyshorts, fabric soaked until they look a nearly new navy shade. You feel his laughter less than you hear it, turning your head to glare at him. He smiles a little at you.

"Those are cute too," Togame comments. You can hear his voice so clearly like this you think you'll collapse if you pay too much attention to it. "Too bad you made 'em all messy."

You swallow a sound, too horny to protest. He stops you before you can take your panties off.

"Didn't you say you normally touch over the fabric when you're sensitive? Do that."

"But—"

"Just trust me," He promises. He kisses your hair. Your heart thuds when he does it. It's an innocent gesture. "It'll make it more satisfying, okay?"

Your shaky as you spread yourself a little wider and slip your hand down between your legs. All the desire you're holding starts to unwind as your middle finger slides over the soaked seam of your cotton panties. They're cuter than normal, printed with florals and lace trimmed. Absolutely drenched in your arousal. You rub a small circle into your clit and your whole body breaks out into shivers, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

You could cum like this. Just from this. But you want something more, something better so you force yourself to go slow.

"It's messy," Togame hums, nonchalant. "You get easier than I thought you would. Are you going slow so you don't cum right away?"

"Don't point it out, aah,"

"You should cum if you want too," Togame suggests.

"No," You whine. "Wanna cum with the toy."

"Wanna cum with a cock inside you, ya mean? A silicone one but still. Not enough to just touch yourself, you need something more, is that it?"

He says the words so casually, so lightly. Almost friedly despite how filthy they are. There's no malice in them.

Spoken like high praise or affection. The kind you'd show a kitten,.

"Kame—"

"Didn't know your had such a need pussy. No wonder it's hard to cum all by yourself, huh?"

"Stop being mean," You gasp. "I'll cum,"

He laughs at that. It's genuine and bright.

"Too much for ya, huh? S'okay. Take these off now. Finger yourself. Make sure you get all that mess you made so we can use on your toy. It'll hurt if it's dry going in."

You feel blindsided by just how much Togame is talking. He's been so quiet, so brief and unreadable. He feels like his usual self too much, to your complete detriment. His voice is teasing, yet warm and sweet. He smells good and he's pressing you all against his chest. Your fingers tremble as you slide your panties down to your ankles same as before. You end up shimmying the rest of your clothes off.

You're so aroused it's easy to get the first finger in. Your hole twitches, the entrance pleasurable as slowly ease your middle finger down to knuckle. You til your head towards Togame as you get adjusted to the intrusion easily from how wet you are, pouting your lips. He gives into the kiss right away, warm tongue and soft lips familiar to you now. You ease yourself into the pace of his kiss, whimpering into his mouth as you slowly open yourself on second finger.

"I want it so bad," You mumble. He laughs against your mouth.

"I can tell. Can barely string a sentence together. You want to cum huh?"

"Uh-huh."

"What a naughty pussy. You're trembling from just fingering yourself. Won't you cum right away if I put in you at once? I'll have to go slowly," Togame explains. He speaks the filth so naturally. "Take my time so you're stretched nicely and not scared anymore. I'll turn the vibrator on after it's already inside so you can't run away from it. You can cum to your hearts content, then."

"I'm still scared," You admit. You're just so horny you're unsure of what else to do. He leans down to kiss you again, nose brushing against yours intimately.

"Don't be scared. Just focus on stretching so you're not so tight. I'll praise you if you take it in easily."

Your voice gives once you manage to get a third in. Togame doesn't stop kissing you, barely giving you enough air to breathe. He plays with your chest with his free hand, and holds the toy with the other.

A string of spit connects you. Your thighs are aching, body burning hot as you look at him directly.

"Wanna cum," You slur your words, speaking in short sentences. Togame grins a little.

"Take your fingers out and show them to me."

Your stomach flips but you comply with the request. Your face burns from how soaked they are.

"Good. Rub them on the toy now. Get it as sticky as you can."

Your heart is pounding is loud in your ears as you clumsily coat your new toy with your own mess. You watch it gain a fresh shine, baby blue turning reflective as you push it against and between your fingers until all of it's coated as best you can.

"That's it, good. Spread your legs now. Gonna put it in. Want me to kiss you?"

You nod sheepishly and close your eyes. Togame laughs warmly before kissing you again.

Your whole body throbs in anticipation for it. A muscular forearm and hand slip between your legs as you spread yourself open, your feet flat on the bed for easier access. Togame forces his tongue into your open mouth, kissing you wet and hard as he tweaks your nipples. You feel pleasantly suffocated from the pressure before gasping into his mouth.

The swollen silicone head of your toy stretches your pussy more than you thought it would. You've never had a toy with angles so the sensations are all new. You can feel it so well inside of you, you can barely keep your composure long enough to stop moaning as just the tip slides in. Togame swallows each noise from your mouth. His kisses feel almost ferocious now when they were so composed before, free hand cupping your jaw from one side.

He fucks it in slowly, rocking the toy by its handle slowly until you get used to it - giving you moments between to adjust. You can feel it bottom out inside of you, the head pressing so precise on your swollen gspot you could cum from bucking your hips. Your sensitivity is over the top. Every touch and and tease and bump makes your cunt clench and throb.

The blunt end of the rubber attachment presses against your needy little clit. Togame moves the toy a little, fucking you with it slightly again. Barely. It still nearly makes you cum.

You feel like he's edging you. Anymore than this, you think you'll go crazy.

"Kame-chan." Your voice is beyond wrecked, throat as one of your hands reaches to cling desperately to his short sleeves. You fist it, teary. "Jo, turn it on please. Make me cum. Wanna cum so bad, 'm so close, please, please. C'mon."

"Turning it on, baby. Easy."

The word baby makes your body melt.

A slight click sounds as Togame turns on the vibrator.

Your whole body lurches at the sudden change. Togame pins you with his own, keeps his hands steady and the toy inside of you without skipping a beat. The soft whirr of the first setting completely unravels you. It feels like every nerve in your body is being pulled apart, electricity through a frayed copper wire. The muscles in your body aching with anticipation after so many dissatisfying orgasms clench tight as your body prepares itself for something so vast your mind can't process it at all. Your hands fist at your sides, clutching the sheets as you get close to cumming.

You're thrashing from the sensation. It's so much, too much - you've never felt anything like it before. You feel full and euphoric and your head is spinning. It feels so good it terrifies you, makes you clench up hard in how unbearably unrelenting it is. There's no pace, no where to escape from. The vibrations are strong but not overwhelming to the point you can't feel them.

You're so senstive all over your body and it's touching you in two places.

Your spine starts to curl into an arch, hips stuttering and twisting as you feel it rushing over your consciousness. Fuck, you've wanted this for so long. It's exactly the high you've been chasing after on your own for so many months it's making your brain feel like like mush. Animal instinct forces your hips up, bucking against Togame's hand where he holds the toy. You're fucking yourself on it. You can hear him laugh as he moves to meet you ruts.

You feel like you're losing your fucking mind.

"G-gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I can't, I can't, I can't. Feels so good, Ican't."

He leans in and gets close to your ear, tongue caressing the lobe before biting it soft.

"Yes you can. You want it so bad don't you? Wanna cum all over this cock so bad you've been aching for it. I know you want it, I can see it. Look how much your moving your hips." His voice is shaking, hands flicking your nipples messy and harsh as he speaks. "Look what a mess you're making. You're leaking everywhere. You want it badly right? Don't think about it and cum. Cum as much as you want. Cum for me,"

The last words are the ones to snap the thread inside of you.

Your brain bluescreens as your body seizes before finally, finally giving you the orgasm you've been chasing. You smash your lips against Togame's as your spine arches off the bed, thrashing in place. Something in you undoes - and you feel a wet rush spray from between your legs at the same time your orgasm hits. Your mind feels completely and utterly blanked. Your body is in total rapture, uncontrollable pleasure fucking your brain until you're stupid and slack jawed. It feels so good, so so good. You didn't know anything could ever feel that good in your life. It's scary.

You feel like you could get addicted. Your high rides out for much longer than ever before. In between sloppy kisses, you say the same words over and over and over. Togame grips you close to him as you do.

"Jo," You mutter. "Thank you, thank you, thank you—feels so fffucking good, fuck. I can't, I can't. Off, off. 's too much, I'll pee."

Instead of turning it off, he turns the vibration up by one. Your eyes fly open as you gasp, words rushed. Panicked.

"I can't," You swear, looking at him for mercy. His face is flushed. "I can't, Jo-chan, I'll cum again, I'll—"

"Cum." He says, demands - voice rougher than you've heard it all night. "I know you can. Cum,"

On demand practically, your legs seize up and you cum again a second time in near succession. You feel so fucking incredible you think you're going to die.

"Fuck!"

You squirt again, body nearly giving out as more short spurts soak your sheets and mattress. Your pussy is pulsing in the after math, trembling and clenching so violently. You whine loudly as Togame stops the vibration and pulls the toy out, shivering as it catches on your tight hole before coming out of it with a soft pop.

Your legs are twitching.

Even though Togame has no more reason to kiss you he does. And even though you're well past the point of needing to kiss him back, you do more affectionately than any time prior.

"You made me feel so good it's freaking me out." You admit, shaking uncontrollably.

Togame pauses before breaking out into genuine laughter. He kisses your head, arm wrapping around your shoulders until you're hugged against him.

"You were so sexy like that."

You blink at him, face flushed.

"Sexy?"

"I was really hard seeing you cum," He says, casually looking down. "I didn't know you could be cute and ask for kisses. You're usually more—"

You put a hand over his mouth.

"Whatever you're gonna say shut up,"

He just smiles, cheek against your hair. "I'm glad you got to feel good."

"What about you?" You mumble, feeling your heart pick up just asking. "Are you still hard? I feel like I should pay you back somehow,"

He looks at you seriously. "Do you know what you're implying?"

You fold a little but nod anyway. "Yeah."

"Do you really? The monk thing is a joke, you know. If you offer something like that, I won't be able to stop."

"It's fine," You say confidently before adding, much quieter. "I r-really want to do... it with you."

Togame pauses before kissing you deeply. Your whole body feels molded to him now.

"Damn it." He looks down at you, black hair sticking to his skin. You wanna feel his undercut with your hands in his hair. "You know this ain't normal between friends, right?"

"Uhm, yeah? I figured."

"Don't go around getting help from anyone."

You shake your head. "It's only 'cause it's you."

He scrubs a hand over his face and laughs. "You don't need to stir me up anymore. I'm already hard enough. Can't keep my composure at all."

You tilt your head in confusion. Togame just sighs.

"Don't worry about it." He says, shaking his head. "How soon can I get my thanks?"

Your eyes widen as you clench again. "Uhm. Now, if you want it."

He grins a little lazy, eyes swimming with adoration.

"I do," He hums, laying back as you get up from where you've been laying. "Come over here and let me touch you properly then."

"Is that what you really want?"

You climb ontop of him, bare naked almost as your hoodie falls back down over your torse. Togame slides the fabric up and gives you a meaningful look.

"More than anything,"

[l1tw1ck]

Divine Encounter

Bottom!FTM Sunday x Top!Masc!God Reader

🪽 Word Count: 1,198 🪽

AFAB Language Used | [Series]

CW: Non/Dub-Con, Daddy Kink, Virginity Loss, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing, Squirting, Womb Fucking, Creampie

After all his years of being a devoted priest, Sunday is finally experiencing what he believes to be a test from the only love in his life. His god. You.

He stares at the mirror, staring intensely at the elegant tattoo that suddenly appeared on his lower body. “What…” His slender fingers move to touch the new addition to his skin. He lets out a quiet whine. It feels…good? He pulls away. “Is this a test?” Sunday gulps.

Robin knocks on the door. “You're going to be late if you don't leave now.” She calls out.

“You- you can go without me.” He replies. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay.” She leaves.

“I will resist the temptation.” Sunday mutters before turning away.

After the morning service, Sunday hurries to his private prayer room. He kneels in front of the marble statue of You. He whispers Your name, then connects his hands to pray.

He unknowingly starts to slip away from reality with each line of the prayer. He doesn't realize until he feels a hand below his chin. He looks up and gasps. It's You. You’ve never visited him before. Not even in his dreams.

“Fh- Father-” He watches, frozen in awe as Your thumb rests on his lower lip. He can understand that You want him to keep his mouth open. Why? It doesn't matter to him.

“Keep praying.” Your commanding voice makes him shudder. He can understand that You want him to pray in his head, rather than verbally. Sunday closes his eyes and continues his prayer. Something warm enters his mouth but he doesn't stop. He trusts You completely.

Even as You grab his hair and roughly force him to take the thick, pulsing object in his mouth, he doesn't falter. Not even when his pussy begins to throb.

“You're doing well, Sunday…” You groan. His heart flutters. “My most beloved follower.”

Sunday opens his eyes, his cheeks bright red. The way You're looking at him is making him forget his task. He can feel his slick creating a puddle in his boxers. Focusing on praying caused him to not realize that the object inside his mouth is Your cock. It's…it's not a sin. He devoted himself to You and swore off relationships. Technically, You could be considered his husband.

“That's right, you belong solely to me.” You stop and come inside his mouth. “My husband.”

He blinks repeatedly as he suddenly finds himself back in reality. He can still taste You. He presses his fingers to his lips, then trails down to his cunt.

“Don't touch yourself.” Your voice suddenly appears in his head.

He immediately pulls away in embarrassment. He decides to recite the prayer again to calm down.

Sunday gasps as You appear before him once again. In his bedroom this time. “[Name]…” He looks at You longingly. He drops the book in his hand and moves it aside. He hasn't seen or heard from You in a week. He's just barely been able to resist the urge to masturbate.

“You’ve done well, as I expected.” You walk towards him. His clothes suddenly disappear, his body now fully exposed for You. You crawl onto the bed. Sunday leans against the bed frame and closes his eyes, allowing You to kiss him. He dares not touch You. Your hand slides down to the tattoo on his pelvis, his body trembles as Your fingers trace the markings. You pull away from the kiss. Sunday looks down, watching as the simple touches cause him to squirm and moan. “Mine.” You whisper. He throws his head back as he comes for the first time in his life, spurts of slick stain his bedsheets.

You spread his legs, gently dragging his body down so he can lay on his back, and reveal Your length. Your thickness rests on his wet cunt. Despite the size and the impending loss of virginity, he doesn't feel any fear or hesitation. Just adoration and joy. He never thought anything like this would happen to him. Sunday watches as You penetrate him painlessly. Not a single part of his body is trying to reject You. He always heard that losing your virginity is painful, maybe it's because no one ever lost it to their god.

“You…you're so big..” He says breathlessly, watching the bulge grow in his stomach. The outer parts of the tattoo have a soft yellow glow. As soon as he feels Your lips graze his neck, he mewls adorably. You gently kiss and suck on his skin.

You eventually reach his cervix. He instantly squirts just from the contact. “[Name]..” He bites down on his lip.

“It's Daddy.” You move backwards by about an inch before hitting his cervix again, entering his womb.

“Daddy~!” Sunday moans as you start fucking him. He grips the sheets tightly as You overwhelm him with pleasure. His lashes flutter elegantly as each thrust sends him closer and closer to a sexual heaven. If it weren't for Your possessiveness over him and Your decision to soundproof the room, everyone would be able to hear him from outside. He's too far gone to think about it.

Tears run beautifully down his cheeks. Never in a million years would he have imagined being claimed by the God he worships. Especially not in this way. Completely enveloping You in Your entirety is something that would make him cry blasphemy if anyone told him this would happen.

Of course he, along with all Your believers, consume You via wine and edible offerings, but that's all metaphorical.

“Gonna come inside you-” You moan. Sunday whines happily.

“Yes– fill me with Your seed~” His pussy squeezes you as if it's trying to milk You. Its efforts are quickly proved successful by his womb filling up with Your cum. His tattoo lights up halfway, a representation of how full he really is.

You briefly pull out, turning him over and adjusting him to lay face down with his ass raised. He grins dumbly as You slide back inside of him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he once again experiences the divine stretch of his pussy welcoming you inside it. He's already addicted.

You roughly thrust into his cunt, shamelessly indulging in Your own desire for him. He drools onto his pillow, his vision blurring. He's teetering on the edge of unconsciousness but You're keeping him awake. “Daddy~” He cries out as he has another orgasm. His wetness and Your thrusts are creating the kind of lewd noises that used to embarrass him on the unfortunate occasions where he’d pass by a storage closet inhabited by two sinners. Now, it's just making him hornier.

Before all this, he figured he'd only have sex to procreate. You’ve completely changed his mind on that.

“So good!” He cries.

You notice the abstinence ring on his finger and slide it off, replacing it with a wedding ring. Sunday mewls happily, once again squirting.

For his sake, you finish inside him and fully fill his womb to the brim. His tattoo fully glows, representing the connection you two have. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

[written-and-readen]

Moze unintentionally scaring you all the time. Due to his job, his footsteps are barely audible, and it doesn't help that he can turn invisible. You’ll suddenly hear his voice right next to your ear, making you drop whatever you're holding because you never heard him approaching. Fortunately, he has quick reflexes to catch whatever it is.

He thinks your surprised expression turning into relief and then a smile at realizing it’s him is cute every time. He won’t tell you that though.

You gave him the key to your house so he would stop coming in through your window all the time. He's gotten a couple of bruises from you thinking he was some intruder and throwing the nearest object.

"At least tell me when you enter!" You protest, “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”

“Sorry” is all he says and then does it again. Little do you know, he enjoys the way you kiss over any bruises you inflict.

[22ayla21]

Awkward First Love

Experiencing the feeling of falling in love for the first time, Silver awkwardly tries to court the Prefect of the Ramshackle Dorm, but his sleepiness and awkwardness keep throwing him off track.

She appeared at Night Raven College like a random line in a perfectly constructed ballad. The only girl among the students, the head of the Ramshackle Dorm - quiet, reserved, like a shadow of a forgotten era that still clings to the proud name of its monastery. Silver had noticed her before - how quietly she straightened old books in the library, how she quietly walked along the stone slabs of the corridors. But one sunny afternoon, while Malleus was discussing the schedule, he suddenly caught himself thinking that he had been looking... for too long.

Since then, everything went wrong.

He began to notice details: how she slightly tilted her head when she asked a question, or how she sighed silently, sorting through papers. And Silver... decided to act. Knightly. With dignity. As expected.

His first attempt was a bouquet. Not some banal roses, no. He chose forest flowers. Modest, but graceful, like herself. Only... he fell asleep. He fell asleep right on the path, holding the bouquet in his hands, waiting for her at the exit from the dining room. She found him half an hour later, gently woke him up, and he, confused, simply silently handed her the flowers with a slight blush on his cheeks.

- Thank you... - she said with a slight smile, accepting the bouquet. - But you don't have to lose sleep over me.

He lowered his gaze, as if hiding his embarrassment, and quietly muttered:

- If for your sake... then it's not so bad.

And then, realizing that he said it out loud, he quickly added, blushing even more:

- I... that is... just wanted you to be pleased.

And again he fell silent, nervously squeezing his empty fingers, as if he forgot what to do without a bouquet in his hands.

The next attempt was an offer to help. He offered to help her fix the old furniture in the dorm. Everything was going well until he dozed off with a screwdriver in his hand while she was explaining which shelves needed to be reinforced. He woke up from a light laugh and a look in which a warm mockery slipped.

- You should take care of yourself, Silver. I don't want you to fall down the stairs in your sleep, - he wanted to object, but realized that... she was right.

The third attempt was the most desperate. He offered to walk her to the dorm when the wind picked up outside. And he even walked... almost. Halfway there he dozed off, walking next to her. And when he woke up, he realized that she was leading him by the arm, carefully so that he would not trip.

- Silver, I think I should be your knight, - she joked. He was embarrassed, looked away.

- Sorry... I just... want to be useful, - she looked at him a little longer than usual.

- You're already useful. Just be yourself. And if you want, sometimes... stay cheerful, - he nodded, and his heart began to beat faster.

It wasn't perfect. It was... awkward. But maybe she liked it that way.

[cherrixpie]

NEMESIS

part one of five

↬ you were supposed to steer clear of mattheo riddle. shame that he was just so intriguing.

↬ sfw; wc: 5.6k; cw: mentions of blood and death; tags: enemies to lovers; gryffindor!reader, muggleborn!reader

( masterlist )

if you'd like to be added to the taglist, leave a comment! 💕

The minute Snape set foot in the defense against the dark arts classroom, all whispers and conversations between students fell silent. His cloak billowed out in his wake as he approached the front, glaring at any student who dared look up at him. His hard eyes wandered over the rows and narrowed when they reached the table you and Hermoine sat at, next to you two free seats. Harry and Ron were late, and you gnawed at your lower lip in worry. Their last subject had been divination, which neither you nor Hermoine had taken, and you hadn't seen them since breakfast. Judging by his scowl, Snape would skin them for being late.

When Snape walked up to the chalk board, turning his back to the class, Hermoine leaned over and breathed in your ear: “Nott and Riddle aren't here yet either.” She was right. As your gaze brushed over the Slytherins on the other side of the room, you spotted two empty seats next to Malfoy that were usually occupied by Theodore Nott and Mattheo Riddle. Not that you missed the two, but their absence made anxiety curl in your stomach. Could it be linked to Harry’s and Ron’s nonattendance?

“Eyes on front,” Snape’s voice bellowed through the classroom and you flinched, returning your focus to the lesson. But just as you pulled out your parchment, quill and ink to copy the notes from the chalk board, the door burst open and all heads turned in a singular motion. The four missing boys stood in the entrance, albeit standing in pairs demonstrating visible hostility.

All of them looked like they had just fought a rabid pack of grindelows. Hair disheveled, some of their noses bleeding, Riddle’s knuckles were leaking blood and a purple bruise formed on Harry’s right cheek, Ron’s face was littered in cuts. Nott looked the least brutalized out of all of them, and the most annoyed. Everyone was staring, you and Hermoine included. The four of them heaved as if they had ran all the way up here, and Ron held his book back with both hands that seemed to be dissolving in real time, his face as red with fury when Malfoys voice drawled through the room. “My, my, Weasley, that bag must've been worth more than your mum!”

Before Ron could throw an insult back at him, Snape’s voice cut through the room, almost shaking with ire. “You're late. Twenty points from Gryffindor. Sit down!”

“What?” Ron asked in indignation and Snape's lips curled. “But, Professor, they were just as late as-”

“Sit down, Weasley, before I take fifty points from your house,” said Snape coolly and Harry pulled Ron along the rows to your table. Riddle and Nott sat down on their seats, just as the two slumped down next to you. The commotion was silenced by one look from Snape who now proceeded to scribble down the effects of the counter-curse you would learn today. Half your attention on your notes, you leaned over to the boys, just like Hermoine, with a questioning look. “What the hell happened?”

“Riddle fucking happened,” spat Ron under his breath. “He-” Suddenly, he broke off and looked at Harry, as though it had just dawned on him that Harry might not like to share whatever Riddle had said or done. Harry rolled his eyes. “He started talking shit about my parents.”

“He did not,” whispered Hermoine in shock, though you weren't quite sure why she was so surprised. Harry and Riddle had gotten into fights before. One time, they were started by Riddle going on about Harry’s dead parents, the other because Harry provoked him using his parentage.

It was a tale as old as time, and though you thought it was objectively worse of Riddle to be insulting Harry’s parents than the other way around, it didn't change the fact that a brawl between the two was a near monthly occurrence, with their friends joining in. Sometimes, they were each backed up by all their male housemates of their grade (last year, the whole male seventh year population of Gryffindor and Slytherin had to do detention together and it certainly didn't warm them up to each other), sometimes it was just Ron and Nott, sometimes it was one v one.

Harry shrugged her indignation off, he seemed less furious than Ron who was positively shaking with rage. “Whatever. I was just stupid to go off again, I should know his tricks by now.” Ron looked like he wanted to reply something, but just then, a shadow loomed over you and Snape's voice drawled. “Do you want to share anything with the class, Potter?”

Neither of you four spoke, and Snape seemed to take it as an invitation to inflict further punishment upon you. His spiteful eyes trailed over the four of you as he sneered. “I think I will put an end to this chit chat. Potter, you go and sit with Mr. Malfoy. Hermoine, over there with Miss Parkinson; Weasley, with Mr. Nott and you,” his eyes glanced over you swiftly, “go sit with Mr. Riddle. Go.” You hastily stuffed your quill and parchment into your bag, smiled at Hermoine, who gave you a worried look, and walked over to Riddle with a hammering heart. With him. God protect you.

Mattheo Riddle lounged in his chair as if it were a throne, his posture a calculated mix of arrogance and nonchalance that made him look untouchable, even in disarray. The faint trickle of dried blood at his temple and the faint purpling of a bruise along his jawline should have diminished him, but instead, they only sharpened his edge. His tie hung loosely around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a glimpse of pale skin marred by faint scars-trophies from fights he never seemed to avoid.

He didn't glance up as you approached, but the lazy, almost wolfish curve of his mouth suggested he knew you weee there. Something about the way his dark curls fell over his brow, paired with the faint metallic glint of the blood on his knuckles, made him seem both reckless and untamed, like a storm that brewed until it would inevitably destroy everything in its path.

Your anxiety only worsened when Riddle raised his head lazily and looked at your approaching figure. He had a cut on his nose that was still bleeding, and his eyes brushed over you with unmistakable disdain. Slowly, blood seeped down his hand and onto his parchment. You stared at the red dots as you stood in front of him, unsure what to do, frozen under his heavy stare. Until he scoffed and averted his eyes. “Merlin, you’re as slow as you are annoying. What's wrong, scared I'll bite? Don’t worry, sitting next to me won’t tarnish your perfect little Gryffindor reputation. Sit.”

Without a word, you finally managed to move your feet and rounded the table to sit down on the chair next to him with the utmost care, as if the slightest motion could tip him off. Was it riddiculous? Possibly. Were you keen on taking chances? No. You sat in silence as you got out your ink and quill and started scribbling on your parchment, head ducked over the paper and hair falling, thankfully, between the two of you like a curtain. A whole hour of sitting next to the ticking time bomb Mattheo Riddle. You were glad that your fingers weren't shaking as they flew over the parchment, leaving a trail of ink in their wake.

You couldn't have been more thankful for the silence, but Riddle seemed bored. You heard him shift in his chair, bounce his leg, and then, you heard his voice.

“Didn't think you Gryffindors scared so easily. Or is that just you?” Though you were sure he had noticed, Snape made no efforts to discipline Riddle for his insubordination. Of course not. But you knew, if you talked back at him, you would earn another ten points being taken from your house. And in any case, you weren't one to be provoked easily, and you weren't about to risk him hearing your voice shake, as it may have, if you'd opened your mouth. So you scribbled on in silence as Snape got up to demonstrate the wand movement.

“You're quiet for once,” whispered Riddle’s voice, closer than you expected, and you couldn't suppress the little flinch away from him. He chuckled darkly. “What happened?” he asked with the unmistakable sound of a predator circling its prey. “Lost your nerve, princess?”

When you looked up, away from him, your eyes met Hermoine who looked concerned. Barely moving, you shook your head and forced a smile upon your lips. This would be a long hour. You could tell from the tone in his voice that he would have his proper fun, would toy with you. Every instinct told you to fire back, but you called yourself to discipline. This was not the time. And if you would have been willing to start a fight, it would be highly unwise to take on Mattheo Riddle.

When Pansy Parkinson sniggered next to Hermoine, she averted her gaze and rolled her eyes, and you, too, looked back down onto the parchment. You should take notes on the wand movement. You would have, if it hadn't been for Riddle, leaning in once more. You were sure that, on the other side of the curtain, he was almost brushing your hair with his lips. It was silly, but his proximity made you blush. “Go on,” he prodded, “say something Gryffindor-y and self-righteous. Isn't that you speciality?”

“You will now pair up with your desk partners,” Snape’s voice sounded through the classroom, “and practice this jinx. If it has the intended effect, it should merely push your partner away a few feet. Finnigan, I would book an appointment in the hospital wing, I wouldn't trust Longbottom not to throw you out the window. If I see anyone taking advantage of this opportunity to right a perceived wrong,” he sneered, looking particularly at Harry and Ron who both scowled back, “they shall feel my wrath.”

Oh god. You had naively forgotten that this might happen. Let Riddle hex you? You should probably just hex yourself and be done with it. You sent him a quick glance as you rose from your seat and Snape piled up all desks at the wall to make space. If you hadn't known better, you could have thought that he was bored. But you saw the glint in his eyes as he met your gaze with his brown eyes. For a strange second, it flashed through your mind that he had surprisingly pretty eyes for- well, someone who's father was he-who-must-not-be-named.

“Try not to embarrass yourself,” he drawled mockingly and that irked you more than any of his comments had. You were very proud of your academic achievements, and you couldn't help but glare at the floor when you averted your eyes. You’d show him. Riddle whistled under his breath as you stood upright and raised your wand the proper way. “Look at you, all brave and noble, even in the face of the ‘Dark Lord’s Son’”

He was mocking you, and you found yourself wishing he'd just get in with hexing you instead. “If you're just going to yap all day, I'll do it first,” you said coolly, making him laugh. It was a strange sound, because you had never heard someone laugh so devoid of any warmth. Maybe nobody had ever taught him that laughs were supposed to signal happiness.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he said in a low voice. “Show me all about the ‘bravery’ you lot talk about.”

Gripping your wand tighter, you understood it as an encouragement to use the spell on him first. You could just say the incarnation. Just swing your wand. You could do it. “Discedo!” Your pronunciation was perfect, your aim was right, the movement of your wand mirrored Snape's as you concentrated hard. And, to your silent triumph, Riddle was nearly knocked off his feet as he was pushed back and stumbled a few feet, dangerously close to the fireplace. Just as described, you had done it correctly and for some strange reason, you awaited his praise.

Even more surprising was that you received it. “Nice one, princess,” Riddle called and walzed back to you with a lazy grin as if he hadn't just nearly crushed into a burning fire. If you thought about it, you weren't even sure he'd mind that. You'd watched him dislocate his arm in a brawl and crack it back in place without so much as a wince or a frown. Sometimes you thought he couldn't feel pain, but that was impossible. Maybe he liked it. It would suit him, you thought.

Over your spiraling thoughts, you nearly missed the almost gentle way he pulled his wand out of his pocket, much more tender than you had ever seen him regard a living being. You suppressed the urge to take a step back when he pointed it at you, determined not to show fear. Also, you were already in enough danger to smash into the wall behind you as it was. “Your friends seem worried,” Riddle grinned and you were momentarily distracted as you caught Harry’s frown and Hermoine's worried expression. Ron was too busy being pushed around the room by Nott who seemed bored out of his mind.

“Do you ever stop talking?” you snapped and were surprised by your own daring. “Just cast the damn jinx and get it over with!” Riddle raised his brows and you could have slapped yourself. Great idea, challenging him when he was pointing a wand at you and you were not allowed to use yours. Riddle seemed mostly amused, though, twirling his wand around in his hand as if he was contemplating something. Probably, how hard he would smash you into that wall. If Mattheo Riddle was good at one thing, it was cursing people.

Finally, he raised his hand, not even mouthing the spell, that show-off. You shielded yourself for the impact of the wall, but suddenly, a force, not unlike a giant hand or a strong gust of wind, pushed you, not backwards- but forward. Instead of crashing into the wall, you found yourself stumbling helplessly into the arms of Mattheo Riddle himself, who caught you, circled one arm around your waist and gave you the most innocent of expressions. “Oops, my bad, princess.”

For some reason, you blushed. Maybe because he was so close to you you could have wiped the dried blood off his face. Or maybe it was the hand on your waist, encircled by your arm, touching his. His hands felt larger than you had expected and he buried his fingers in your robes, crooking his head at you with a sly grin. No doubt, he was trying to measure your reaction, read it off your face in all damming detail. If it hadn't been the classroom, you would have looked like you were about to kiss. His relaxed smirk was infuriating. "Come on, princess, you know you can't resist me."

Shaking him off, you took a few steps back, legs tingling from the jinx. No way that hadn't been intentional. You should probably be angry, but you were more so glad you hadn't crashed into a wall. But just when you were about to raise your wand once more, Snape’s harsh “WANDS DOWN” had you retract. You all were dismissed with one wave of his hand and you hurried over to your book bag. You had never wanted to escape a room this quickly.

To your annoyance, Riddle leaned down for his bag right alongside you and you made haste to bring some distance between the two of you. Again, your caution seemed to be of his amusement, because he chuckled coolly. “What, afraid you’ll catch something? 'M not contagious.” Without an answer, you pushed past him, making a beeline towards the doors and were the first one out. Only when you had walked two corridors, you could take a moment to breathe out.

“You’re alive!” called Ron in mock surprise when you joined the others in the common room a few minutes later. Laughing, albeit weakly, you slumped down into the seat next to him by the fire. Harry and Hermoine looked up and Hermoine’s eyes scanned your form as if she was looking for signs of harm. “Blimey,” sighed Ron, “I thought for sure he'd jinx you into next week.”

“Me too,” you said, rubbing your temples. The frown on Hermoine's face deepened. “It's not funny,” she suddenly snapped, catching all of you by surprise with her fervor. “This could have ended badly! And what do we learn from that?” She asked sternly and Ron raised his hands in surrender. “No talking in class.”

“It's alright, Hermoine,” you said, smiling at her. It was touching how protective your friends were. “Riddle didn't do anything to me, did he? And I was part of that conversation, it's as much my fault as it is Ron's.”

“You should be worried about me, Hermoine!” Ron chimed in and rubbed his shoulder that seemed to be sore. “Do you have any idea into how many bookshelves and walls I crashed today? Nott’s a real piece of shit, I didn't even get to jinx him back!”

“Well, Pansy Parkinson didn't even have time to raise her wand at me,” said Hermoine with an air of superiority, and Ron rolled his eyes. “Well, she isn't much of an academic weapon, is she? Other than you.” Hermoine, who had just looked determined to snap at him once more, seemed somewhat dumbfounded by the sudden complement. To your surprise, she even seemed to blush a little in the dim light of the fireplace.

“Why was Riddle even looming over you like that?” Harry asked through the silence. “I mean… what were you talking about?” Ron and Hermoine, both a little red in the face, turned to look at you as well.

“He talked, I didn't,” you shrugged, for some reason feeling like you had to vindicate yourself. “He was a real chatterbox, I think he just wanted to get a rise out of me.” And he had, you suddenly realized. Damn.

“You handled yourself really well,” said Hermoine and Ron nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” he grinned, “If you could've only pushed Riddle a few feet further back, you'd have set him on fire, how cool would that have been?” He laughed at the idea and even Hermoine smiled a little.

“Wouldn't want to kick off his tragic backstory villain arc,” you grinned and Ron snorted. “Lost case, I'm telling you.”

Shaking your head with a small smile, you watched Ron combust with laughter. Both Harry and Hermoine chuckled, but mostly at Ron’s amusement over his own joke. After that, the conversation trailed off towards school work. Harry and Ron were indignant at Hermoine for already conceptualizing NEWT revision tables when it hadn't even snowed yet, with Ron promising her that he would not touch a textbook until they had beaten the Slytherins at the next quidditch game, the first of the season. When they started to bicker as usual, you started to drown their voices out and you gazed into the fire, lost in thought.

The first time you'd seen Mattheo Riddle had been on your first day in Hogwarts. You'd been scared and jumpy the whole time, the castle intimidated you, the magic astounded you, but at the same time, you felt like an outsider, unworthy of such a royal institution. When you'd been waiting for the hat to call your name, you'd been half expecting to be forgotten, a confirmation that you just weren't good enough. Your worries had been momentarily shunted to the back of your head when another name was called, “Riddle, Mattheo”, and a collective whisper, in its entirety as loud as a yell, had rolled over the hall.

At that point, you had never heard the name Riddle, nor had you the name Voldemort. Blissfully unaware, you'd never even heard of the wizarding war before, the dark times. The only time you'd been in touch with magic before was in diagon alley, but you'd met barely any wizards before. Maybe you had been the only student in the gaggle of them who didn't know what dark a legacy he carried.

What you did notice was more so the way he carried himself. Even at the young age of eleven, he had a kind of untouchable confidence about him. He seemed to be entirely detached from the nerves that coiled so prominently in your belly. Only regarding his fellow, whispering students and the professor with a defiant look, he planted the hat upon his head that disappeared almost in it's entirety inside it. In retrospective, you had wondered why the hat hadn't immediately shouted out Slytherin, seeing as Riddle was one through and through, and the house’s founder’s heir on top of that.

After a while - the whispers had turned into a steady, ever growing buzzing of curious and hostile voices. Safe to say you had been beyond confused and had leaned over to ask the girl next to you why everyone was reacting like this- the name had sounded utterly inoffensive to your innocent ears. But before you could ask her, the hat shouted out “SLYTHERIN” and the boy ripped it off abruptly to stomp over to the Slytherin table, glaring at anyone he passed. They whispered behind his back, and back then, you'd thought 'how can they do this? He hasn't done anything!’. You hated making people feel unwelcome. Of course, you'd learn that Riddle was an expert in that regard himself.

When you now thought back to that, you wondered wether he could have been saved from whatever pipeline he was currently diving into, getting into fights, supposedly even torturing people and, though you took those rumors with a grain of salt, even killing student’s pets. But maybe he'd always been as detached and dark as he was now. At your first Halloween feast in Hogwarts, the evening a troll had sent the school into a panic, he'd caught your eye. As students around him shrieked in fear and stumbled over their own feet trying to escape, he had been eating cake and watching the panicked students as if they were unconvincing extras in a mildly interesting stage play. He'd even grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets, as if it was all beneath him.

Then, in second year, everyone had assumed him to be Slytherin’s heir. It didn't seem to bother him very much, maybe he was even proud. Like all the muggleborns, you'd done your very best to steer clear of him, but your friendship to Harry made it harder since they were constantly at each other’s throats. You'd cried once when you overheard him tell his friends that “at least the monster had good taste”, you'd always wanted everyone to like you and though you had already accepted that some people simply wouldn't, it hurt that anyone could be reveling in the idea of you or your friends being attacked by a monster.

Not that he was any kinder to his own friends, or at least outwardly he wasn't. When Malfoy had gotten attacked by buckbeak in third year, he'd simply watched and laughed, something thirteen year old you found utterly disgusting, even though you detested Malfoy.

As unlikely as it sounded, fourth year was the first time you talked to him- or rather, bickered with him. When Harry had been fighting the Hungarian Horntail and you and Hermoine had been at the edge of your seats, frozen with fear and worry, the Slytherins had come along and Riddle had made a comment about how he would be far more entertained if the Tournament would have some death in it again. For a moment, you'd forgotten how scared you were of him.

Though you weren't what people would call “heroic” or “brave”, in spite of your house, you tended to lose your temper when it came to your friends. That day, you had, when you'd shot around to shriek at Riddle what the fuck was wrong with him, aghast how he could even say something like that. But just when Riddle's eyes flickered over you as if he'd just noticed you for the first time (he probably had), Harry got the egg and you were distracted from him. In spite of what he had said, though, when Harry turned up after the third task with Cedric's body, he'd been pale as a sheet as he stared down at the dead boy. Not so happy that a champion was dead now, after all.

Fifth year was when he started to pick on you. It was also the year he started getting into fights. Actual fights. Of course, there had been smaller brawls before, immature duels, but there was an edge to him when he returned to Hogwarts that year. He was more serious, and most importantly, more angry. A student laughing too loud was enough to set him off on a bad day, and once he was, there would be blood. A lot of it. It became a weekly occurrence to see him walking into classrooms with a bloodied shirt or nose, or cuts and bruises on his face and hands. Fifth year was when even some of the teachers started getting scared of him.

Other than any other year, Riddle had stayed in Hogwarts for the Holidays in sixth year. It only stood out to you because most people went home to see their families, wanting to be close in times of uncertainty. And because of that one morning, when you'd taken a walk around the black lake and spotted him, standing in the cold without so much as a cloak and staring into space with a distant expression. It was the first time in years he'd looked human, and you had found yourself staring until he turned his head and snapped at you.

In seventh year, you had been assigned to prefect patrols with each other for a few disastrous days. Each night, you'd stumbled into your common room, burned out from the stress it caused you to be near him. To be subjected to his cunning comments that drove you over the edge, with him having a front seat. It was probably good fun for him. Out of pure boredom, he had amused himself with you. And he'd won, kind of, when you begged McGonnagall to reassign you after a mere week, which she did. Maybe you had been imagining things, but he had been strangely more hostile to you since then, as if it had actually bothered him.

Now, in your eighth and final year, staring mindlessly into the flames, you found yourself wondering wether he'd ever had a chance to be anything else than he was right now. Or rather, anyone else. With him, you found yourself thinking of him as a thing rather than a person more often than you'd liked to admit. Maybe because he didn't seem very human. If the times and environments had been different, maybe he'd have been, too. But, you reminded yourself, he was still him, and you were still you.

Maybe some diety had listened to your tired sermon the previous night, or maybe it was mere coincidence. It could also be your stupidity. But the next day, you found yourself assigned detention with Riddle himself. You had to recognize that pulling your wand at Malfoy and him in full sight of any professor who might turn the corner was a little stupid, but the others somehow never got caught doing it. You, on the other hand…

You had been on your way to the library after dinner the next day, on your own since your friends were already on their way to the common room. Maybe some backup would’ve been good, but you were quite glad none of them heard the words that left Malfoy’s mouth when he passed you in the halls, talking loudly to Riddle. “Granger may be smart, but brains won't save her when the Dark Lord finally catches up to her.” Your head had shot up from the parchment you had been buried in and you stuffed it into your bag, accelerating your steps, a white hot anger stirring inside you. But Malfoy wasn't finished yet. “Honestly,” he drawled, gesticulating vaguely, “It'd be poetic, wouldn't it? The little mudblood trying to stand up to a Death Eater and getting exactly what she deserves.”

He didn't have the chance to say anything further, because your newly learned discedo jinx made him stumble backwards and knock into the wall. Before he could even realize what happened, you sent a silent disarming charm his way and his wand flew in another direction. You were momentarily stunned by your own skill as you watched Malfoy's face go red with anger, but when he leaped from the wall, you pointed your wand at his chest, rage burning inside you and wiping away any concerns about school rules that you followed so adamantly other days.

Malfoy opened his mouth, no doubt to insult you, but you got ahead of him. “You think saying something cruel makes you clever, Malfoy?” you spat at him. “You're really proud of being a terrible person, are you?” Malfoy broke out into a cackle that was silenced by your wand now pressing into his chest. You felt tempted to bombarda maxima his head off, and the fact that you did scared you a little, but it couldn't quell the fire in your chest.

“Wh- do something!” Draco hissed nervously at Riddle who was watching the scene, just like the small crowd that had assembled around you.

A wild laugh escaped you. “You fucking coward. Do you think saying stuff like that is funny? No wonder no one respects you!”

An utterly unexpected sound made both you and Malfoy freeze, though the latter didn't have much of a choice, with your wand still pointed at his chest. Riddle was laughing. Well, not really. It was more of a chuckle. His eyes were locked on you, shimmering with… intrigue? Aghast, you stared at him and your anger welled up once more. This was funny to him, yes? Well, if he didn't have anyone to stand up for, sucks for him. But your healthy dose of respect for Mattheo Riddle made you bite back the reply, merely purse your lips together and turn back to Malfoy, who seemed to have found his voice again.

“It's only a matter of time before the Dark Lord wipes out your little group of do-gooders,” he snarled in your face. “Should be quite the spectacle.”

“Crawl in a hole and die, Malfoy,” you growled, starting to feel a little stupid with your wand pointed at him purposelessly.

“Let's end this party here, princess, don't you think?”

His voice had you turn around slowly. Riddle's wand was pointed lazily at you, as if he were merely twirling it in his fingers. But you knew better. Every movement was deliberate. His wand was pointed at you on purpose. He exuded the aura of a calm before the storm, a small smile danced around his lips. He had this way of making everything into his entertainment. But you wouldn't lie, his wand and his eyes had a definite shiver run up your spine.

“What on earth is going on here?”

You shot around when Professor McGonnagall’s voice bellowed through the hallway and jumped back. The scene she saw was not ideal, with both Mattheo's and your wand pulled as if you were about to duel. Which was strictly forbidden in an uncontrolled environment like this. Not that you'd ever be stupid enough to duel Mattheo Riddle. When the Professor approached, you saw her heaving chest and dread filled your stomach, you wished desperately to be anywhere but here. It was important to you to be liked by teachers, especially McGonnagall, who you’d always looked up to.

“I don't want to believe this,” said Professor McGonnagall, enraged. “Miss y/n, Mr Riddle, detention.” She turned to you and wrinkled her nose. “This is disappointing. I would've expected better from you, especially.”

Mattheo knew he should have been groaning about the detention, but he was busy wondered why you didn't try to defend yourself. Try to tell McGonnagall how Malfoy had provoked you. A crowd of eyewitnesses could have confirmed the story, and McGonnagall surely wouldn't take kindly to threats against her favorite student. But when he looked back at you, the look on your face surprised him. You looked absolutely mortified, he wondered for a second if you would start to cry. But you merely lowered your head and pulled your wand away. McGonnagall gave you a sinister glare. By the look on your face, she could just as well have hit you with the cruciatus curse.

“Pathetic,” whispered Malfoy in his ear, but he couldn't quite agree. It was intriguing. Why did it matter so much to you what fucking McGonnagall thought? He realized, of course, that he was more indifferent of teacher’s perceptions of him than other students, but you looked as if you were facing the death penalty.

Seemingly unable to watch this trainwreck further, a Hufflepuff sixth year spoke up on your behalf. “Please, Professor, Malfoy said some awful things about Hermoine Granger.” Malfoy's grin faltered when McGonnagall looked at him, a wave of affirming murmurs confirming the story to her. “The detention will be extended to you as well, then,” she said coolly and strode off, still positively fuming. Mattheo wanted to catch you before you could slip away, though he wasn't sure what for. Maybe he could tease you, rile you up, that was always good fun. And more than that, he wanted to find out why you had reacted so strongly to McGonnagall’s words.

But you were gone, had made a break for it when McGonnagall had left, no trace of you left. When they kept walking, he drowned out Draco's rants as he thought back to your face when McGonnagall had caught you coming close to jinxing Malfoy (which he found to be hotter than he ever thought he would). There was quite the lioness hidden in you, when provoked. His previous quips at you had usually been met with faux indifference and even fear. Good to know even you, sweet, goody-two-shoes you had a darker side about you. He wouldn't deny that he felt tempted to see it again.

[hanasnx]

Idk if this fits since ive never seen peacemaker but i kinda want adrian to chase me through the woods lowkey

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event!

"C'mon! Don't make me run." The sound of VIGILANTE's gun cocking echoes through the woods as branches snap under your feet. A loud huff sounds, and your heart rate picks up. Hastily, you wedge yourself between two trees, and in the darkness you pray he doesn't notice you. Your panting rises above the crunch of his footsteps, and you cover your mouth with your hand.

He's getting closer. With every snapping stick, your chest jumps, but you stifle your gasps to even out your breathing. It's exhausting. You feel as though you're about to burst—until suddenly, it's quiet. You're afraid to duck out for a glance, and will yourself to remain.

"Really?" the sarcastic questioning of the perpetrator throws you for a loop, screeching in surprise as you're knocked back. Vigilante is casual when he advances, while you land on your back, scrambling through the dirt and leaves. "It's like you're not even trying—" Two thumbs point to his chest and wiggle, "—but I am already rock hard." To say you're confused by his tone is an understatement, twisting your brows as you scan his figure, unable to pick yourself up off the ground as his foot lands on your ankle, pinning you there. He's talking like all of this is some big joke. "Now hold on, just wait a second, I wanna talk to you." He waves off your fear as he converses with you like he's not a madman after you with a gun.

"See the part I can't wrap my head around..." he begins, husky and labored, rearing his head to suck in more oxygen while your pussy wrapped around him clouds his mind. "Is if you're running from a crazy guy in the woods, why would you wear the tiniest little white nightie? Thought the object of it was not to get caught." Dried leaves crinkle under your hair as you whimper through the duct-tape on your mouth. Your taped fists bang against his costumed chest, and he finally looks down at you through the red visor. "Please, please," he reasons like you're the wild one here, and curtly folds your arms above your head and out of his way. "I'm trying to think but you're making it incredibly difficult." He chuckles in relief, and a euphoric sigh exhales from him as he sheathes again. "You're so wet." he tells you in awe, his cock twitching at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him.

[fanficsformyfaves]

The Town Grouch

Luke Danes x Reader

WARNING: SMUT 18+, Enemies To Lovers Trope, Unprotected Sex (Wrap it up, this is fiction, you are not!), Oral Sex (R Receiving)

PREFACE: Reader's the usually cheery neighbor that gets into a screaming match with Luke over him being exceptionally rude to her one morning

A/N: Possibly the daddiest of all my fictional crushes

I was out grabbing my mail, when I cross paths with none other than 'The Town Grouch', Luke Danes, who was throwing his trash, whilst kicking the receptacle.

"What'd the can ever do to you?", I chuckled.

Locking up my mailbox.

"Don't start with me, (Y/L/N)"

"Hey"

"I don't have time for your hounding today"

"I was not 'hounding'. I simply asked what grudge you had against the innocent trashcan"

"How do you know it's innocent?"

"It's an inanimate object with no limbs to commit any sinister crimes with"

"Yeah yeah yeah, defend the trash against me"

"What is with you today?!"

"What the hell are those?!", he yelled,

Gesturing at the new daisy pots that decorated the outside of his diner.

"Daisies, what about 'em?"

"I know what they are, genius!", he yelled,

"Luke-"

"I'm asking; Why are they there?! They're turning the outside of my diner into an eyesore!"

"The daises are an eyesore element now?"

"Yes!"

"Then why are you yelling at me for?!"

"Oh, come on, you're the only person I know who would do this besides Lorelai and she's out of town with Rory"

"Well, yeah I did do this, but I don't get why you're so wound up about it!"

"I like my diner the way it is! Inside and Out! How my dad left it!"

"It was literally a hardware store!"

"That's besides the point! It was my dad and I decide what goes!"

"Alright, I'm sorry! I just thought it would be a nice gesture-"

"Save it", he cuts off.

Storming back towards the diner's door.

"Luke!", I yelled after him.

Once I realized he wasn't stopping, I ran after him.

"Luke!"

"Jess, you're in charge for the rest of the day"

"But-"

"No buts!", he screamed.

I sped walked past all the shocked tables, calling out for him.

"Luke, I'm not through with you!", I shout.

Running up the stairs behind him.

"I am", he grumbled.

Just as he was about to unlock his door, I yelled after him for a final time.

"Listen, you stubborn asshole!"

His head snaps back at my direction.

"What did you just call me?", he questioned.

Making his way back to me.

"You heard me! A stubborn asshole for acting like one!"

"Now, you listen to me-"

"NO! YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME!", I poke his shoulder.

Catching him off guard.

He'd never seen me so heated before as I had a certain reputation for being level-headed and easy going.

"I wanted to do something nice for you since I thought we were friends, but I guess we aren't!"

"Yeah, we aren't"

"Obviously not cause if we were, I'd get a simple thank you or a smile or nod or whatever people like you, who think they're above socializing, do! Sorry for thinking anything more of 'The Town Grouch'!"

"Town Grouch, huh?", he challenged,

"Yes, 'The Town Grouch'! The one everyone warned me about when I first moved here, but of course, I decided to give you a chance cause I liked you, but God, turns out they were right! You're just this mean old bitter-"

I was suddenly cut off by Luke grabbing me by the waist and crashing his lips against mine.

In what felt like a blink of an eye, all my anger melted away and I found my arms wrapping themselves around his neck. I went from a raging whirlwind to a melting puddle in his grasp.

The kiss was...good, which was the craziest part of all of this.

Eventually I pulled away and all I could see where his once baby blue eyes turn dark. He then throws me around his waist, carrying me into his apartment, before using my body to slam the door shut. I threw my head back at the impact giving him access to my neck, which he proceeded to mark with several hickeys.

"You are insufferable", he mumbled against my skin.

Grinding into my clothed core.

"Right back at you", I sighed.

Pushing off the stupid cap he always sports.

He pulls my shirt over my head and quickly unhooks my bra, leaving my buds to harden against the cold winter draft.

"But you're worth the hassle", he sighs.

Diving between my breasts, before giving each one equal amounts of attention with his tongue. I was growing wetter with each passing second.

We eventually make it to his bed, where he threw me down. I go to take my skirt off, when he grabs my wrists to stop me.

"Skirt stays on", he demanded.

Taking my underwear off instead.

He takes a good look at my drenched slit and gets up, as I undo his belt, pulling his jeans down along with his boxers. His aching member now standing at full attention.

He strips off his shirt and climbs back on top of me, kissing his way up as he did till our mouths met once more. He reaches down for his cock, spreading my slick, before thrusting into me one go, ripping a scream out of me.

His hand then quickly goes over my mouth.

"There's a room full of people downstairs. Wouldn't want them to know what we're up to, do we?", he chuckled over his groans.

Beginning to pick up a rhythm with his hips. As if the bed scraping against the floor from the sheer force wasn't much of a giveaway already.

Maybe it was the size difference, but I didn't expect him to be this big. It felt like I was being split apart, but in the most delicious way.

"Fuck, don't stop!", I whined,

Earning a chuckle from Luke.

"Wasn't planning on it, sweetheart"

His pace picks up and with each ram, his tip hit my g-spot repeatedly, bringing me closer and closer to my climax. I watch as his free arm snakes under my body to help him pound into me even harder and faster.

If you had told me three years ago that I'd be in this position right now, no pun intended, I would've called you crazy, psychotic even, but in this moment, anyone else's opinion couldn't have been further from my mind, as it was currently being overrun with the blinding pleasure that was setting my skin on fire.

I knew I didn't have long and his hand reaching down to rub my sensitive bundle nerves didn't help.

"You're close, I can feel it. Do it,", he moaned against my tear stained cheeks.

And with that final sentence, I came completely undone, screaming out into the air and surely disturbing any paying customers downstairs.

Not too long after, his rhythm falters and he comes, painting my insides with a roaring groan against my neck. He then drops atop me, grounding me from the overwhelming high.

"That was-"

"Yeah", I answered,

"We just-"

"Mhm"

He then pulls out, descending lower to lick up the mess we made. I whine, grasping at his hair.

After thoroughly eating me out, he scoops me into his arms, laying me on his chest. The silence, though wildly contrasting from our previous performance, was actually quite...nice. Almost sweet and familiar.

"I'm sorry about getting so worked up"

"Don't be. I should've asked"

"Still, it was unfair. You were just trying to help and I was being a stubborn asshole"

"Gasp! He admits defeat!", I quipped,

"Don't push it"

"Okay", I laughed,

"Well, if getting you worked up lands us right back here, maybe I should piss you off more often"

He shrugs.

"Not a bad place to be, I guess", he smiled.

Till this point, I'd never seen him smile.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

🎃 Spooky, Spooky Movies 👻

You're nursing a crush on Eddie but you're too shy to approach him. A shared love of spooky movies brings the two of you together.

❤️

You had been quietly nursing this little crush of yours for a while now, Eddie Munson was the object of your affections and your crush had only continued to grow the last month or so. Ever since school started again, you noticed Eddie more and more.

Not that he would notice you. Eddie seemed to have crushes on cheerleaders like Chrissy Cunningham, he wasn't interested in you at all.

If only you had the courage to join Hellfire Club or even something less terrifying like even saying hello to him once in a while. That could be a possibility.

You're pretty sure if you joined Hellfire you would just get all tongue tied around him. It was extremely annoying that he made you like this. If you were around people you knew then you were fine.

However being around the guy you were crushing on reduced you to mush. How you would love to make him laugh by saying something witty or just anything at all.

Secretly you watch Eddie while he's in his element, ranting about conformity, Miss O'Donnell and Jason Carver. His eyes are bright, a tiny smirk on his face as passionately begins talking about his new campaign in D&D.

After a few moments you pack away your things and head out of the cafeteria. You're not paying attention as you should and end up knocking into Eddie. Shit.

Flustered you apologise and Eddie flashes you and all dimpled smile as he gathers up your books for you.

Then his eyes trail down to your shirt and he points to it excitedly. "Jesus h Christ, that shirt is so fucking cool. I take it you're a big fan of spooky movies huh?"

You literally forgot you were wearing your favourite Evil Dead shirt today and smile up at Eddie. You were determined to at least hold a conversation with him and maybe your love of spooky movies was the key?

"Mmm, I think I've rented out every horror movie that Family Video has to offer" his eyes light up and he guides you to The Hellfire table, ignoring the rest of the members as he barked at Mike to make space for you.

The two of you spent most of lunch chatting about horror movies that you liked. When you mentioned you were planning to rent out Poltergeist and either Christine or Friday the 13th he was practically vibrating with excitement.

Then all of a sudden his usual confident demeanour vanishes and he looks suddenly shy, he tugs a piece of his hair across his face and peers at you nervously.

"Uh, I actually have Poltergeist rented out rented out ready, maybe you could come to mine and we could watch it?" Oh.

Was this like a date? No...it couldn't be right? You take a chance and ask him, completely expecting him to blow you off. "You mean like a date?"

He blushes but swiftly glares to silence the rest of Hellfire who begins to cat call and tease Eddie. The look immediately silences them and Eddie gestures for you to follow him out to the corridor. "Away from prying buttheads" he tells you and throws an irritated look at the Hellfire table.

Once you're alone he's a little shy again. "Yeah I mean like a date sweetheart" you're elated and stunned that this is actually happening and you accidentally blurt out something you've been wondering for weeks, maybe months.

"I thought you'd have a crush on Chrissy or the other cheerleaders" you admit and he scoffs.

"I mean Chrissy is sweet and all but no. Kinda got my world turned upside down by a beautiful, spooky movie loving lady" flustered but not wasting any more time, you beam and agree to the date.

"Yeah, I'd love to go on a date with you Eddie" he gawks then makes a show of clutching his heart and swooning, it makes you giggle and maybe fall a little bit more for him.

You didn't realise at the time that the date would be the start of something very special.

All because of your love for spooky movies.

Halloween 1987

Eddie is chatting to Steve as you browse through the horror selection in Family Video. You settle on The Thing, Nightmare on Elm street and Fright Night.

What you're most looking forward to is tomorrow when you and Eddie are going to the movies to see The Lost Boys. Both of you were excited for the film but you were anticipating it the most.

Vampires movies were a secret love of yours and this one looked so good. A perfect film to see before Halloween.

Once you've picked your selection you head up to the counter, Steve whistles as he eyes the titles.

"Ahh I see date night right? Munson's picks I guess?" Eddie snorts.

"My princess loves spooky movies I'll have you know Harrington" yeah you'd never get tired of hearing Eddie call you his princess.

Or for all the Halloween's together that were yet to come.

🎃🍁

[the-offside-rule]

Daniel Ricciardo (RB Visa) - Lover

Requested: yes

Swift Series

Prompt: Daniel and international popstar Y/n accidentally get married in Vegas

Warnings: nope

Daniel woke up in his hotel room with a pounding headache, groaning as he tried to open his eyes but being blinded by the sun coming through the windows each time. He turned around, cursing to himself before his eyes widened. Y/n, the Y/n lay beside him, in just a bra. While they had met several times before and hung out with similar people, this was the last person he expected to see in his bed the morning after a race weekend. He began questioning what had happened? What had he done? Or more importantly, who had he done? Whilst Daniel sat thinking about what to say to her when she woke up, he ultimately decided to order room service and go to the bathroom to actually think.....and maybe throw up.

Y/n was awoken by a door closing quite loudly. She jumped up, looking around, her eyes had grown wife as she realised that she wasn't asleep in her room, she was in someone else's. She heard footsteps coming and turned to see who it was. "Uh... morning?" Daniel croaked, his voice scratchy from the combination of dehydration and excessive partying. Y/n grabbed the bed covers and pulled them up over her chest. "What the fuck happened?" She mumbled to herself. "Yeah, I said the same thing."

Daniel scratched his head, replying, "I wish I knew. It's all a bit of a blur." Suddenly, his eyes widened as he noticed a shiny object on his finger. "You don't think this would have anything to do with it?" He lifted his hand to show Y/n, before she looked down, spotting the matching ring. "I got married in Vegas." She was so unbelievably angry with herself. Since she was a child she dreamed of this big extravagant wedding and now she just got married in Vegas?

She looked over to Daniel as he burst into laughter. "Well, you can't get rid of me now." Daniel chuckled, his Australian accent making the situation even more absurd. "Daniel, this is not funny, I'm going to get into so much shit!" Y/n said. Daniel turned to open his big bottle of champagne as Y/n continued her rant. "You're having champagne? At this time?" Daniel walked over to the bed with a glass and sat down, handing it to her and pouring her a glass. "Why are we still here? We should go get divorced!" Y/n implored him. "You need to know where you got married first." Daniel replied, drinking the champagne from the bottle as Y/n looked on. She downed the glass quickly before grabbing the bottle from Daniel. "I need more than a glass." She mumbled, amking Daniel laugh. "I don't know why you're so upset, I'd make a great husband."

"Daniel, can we just think about what happened and then we'll get down to the details of whether or not you're a good husband?" Daniel nodded before Y/n began to think. "So chief, what happened last night?" Daniel asked, rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the throbbing ache. Y/n shook her head, her expression mirroring his confusion. "I don't really remember much. We were at that bar, right?" Daniel nodded slowly, bits and pieces of their escapades starting to trickle back into his consciousness. "Yeah, we were celebrating... something." He lifted the champagne tp his lips once more before handing it over to Y/n. She frowned, trying to recall the reason behind their impromptu celebration. "Was it the points you scored? Maybe my new song got number one?"

"Maybe we just got fucking wasted." Daniel shrugged, before Y/n slapped his bare chest, making him wince in pain. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry." Y/n said. "I vaguely recall a dance-off and a questionable karaoke rendition of 'I Will Survive.'" She ran her fingers through her hair. "Oh, great," Daniel chuckled. "Classic Vegas moves." As she continued on with the possibilities, Daniel looked at the crumpled looking paper on the night stand. Daniel unfolded it tentatively, his heart sinking as he read the words scrawled across the page: Marriage Certificate - Daniel Ricciardo & Y/n Y/l/n - Las Vegas, Nevada.

Y/n's hand flew to her forehead as the reality of their situation sunk in. "Oh my God... we actually got married." Daniel let out a chuckle laugh, his mind oscillating between disbelief and amusement. "I know. I would have actually gotten you a nice ring. Maybe an expensive one?" Y/n slapped his chest again. "Yeah, it's still sore when you do that."

"Sorry, but you need to stop joking about this. It's serious!" She said. "It's really not. No one even knows." She looked to him. "We were clubbing with other drivers, surely one of them were there. Daniel went to turn on his phone, but it was dead. "Must have been to occupied to charge my phone." Daniel joked. "Yeah, getting married." Y/n replied, charging her phone. "I was thinking of starting our honeymoon." He gasped. "Are we going to have a baby Ricciardo?"

"No!" Daniel arched a brow. "Excuse me, but you would be lucky to have a child with my genes." He said, pretending to be hurt. "Yeah, and your humour." She rolled her eyes. "See? Dream team." They sat in silence for a few minutes. She expected a call from her manager at any given second. He was going to kill her. Daniel noticed how tense she was getting and turned to Y/n, holding out his hand. "Well, at least we've got one epic story for the grandkids." Y/n chuckled, taking his hand. "Yep, and a marriage certificate to prove it."

"If our managers don't call us in the next hour, they won't know and I say we go get divorced." Y/n thought about it for a moment. "I mean, if they don't know why bother? The point of us divorcing is so they get off our backs. Plus, it's broad daylight. If people see us going to the Chapel, people will find out." Daniel nodded. "So we're staying married?" Y/n smiled. "Of course. You're like the best husband I could have asked for." Daniel squeezed her hand. "Well, I say we head to the airport and get out of here." Daniel suggested, getting up. "Or we could enjoy our honeymoon with some movies?" He chuckled and sat back down, grabbing the remote control and turning Netflix on. "Sounds good. Can I?" Y/n nodded, allowing Daniel to wrap an arm around her as she leaned into him. "You're coming to Abu Dhabi, though." Daniel said. "Duh. You're going to go to the last race without your wife?"

[dragonridersandhighlords]

omg please do a garrick smut 🙏🙏 he’s legit my fav man in the series ARGHH

Strategic Surrender

Summary: In a tense, late-night strategy session, simmering tension between you and Garrick boils over into an intense and intimate encounter.

Notes: Listen, Garrick fucks and he fucks hard🤤

Pairing: Garrick Tavis x reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, all smut no plot, semi-public sex/exhibitionism? (risk of getting caught), Dom/Sub dynamics, rough (Garrick practically throws you around like a rag doll at one point), no mentions of birth control (wrap it before you tap it)

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist | FW Masterlist

Riorson House is shrouded in silence, the stillness of the night wrapping around it like a thick fog. The echo of footsteps faded long ago, leaving behind the remnants of a day spent in strategy and scheming. Cadets had drifted to their quarters, Assembly leaders had retreated to their chambers, and even the Duke and Duchess were lost to the embrace of sleep. But not you. Not with Garrick Tavis by your side.

The dim glow of an oil lamp cast flickering shadows across the strategy table, illuminating the intricate parchment maps that sprawled before you. You tried to concentrate on the territories, the routes, the defenses—anything but the man beside you. He leaned casually against the edge of the table, one hand idly tracing the contours of the Navarrian defenses, his fingers moving with a deliberate grace that made your heart race. Garrick’s gaze was a weight you felt on your skin, and it ignited a fire that left you restless.

“Your flank is exposed,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, the kind that sent shivers down your spine. “You’d be dead before your squad took five steps.”

“Then maybe I’ll let you die first,” you shot back, refusing to meet his eyes. “Just for the quiet.”

His laughter was sharp, the kind that held secrets. “You’re mouthy when you’re nervous.”

“I’m mouthy because you’re cocky.”

“Cocky?” He pushed away from the table, drawing nearer until the air between you crackled with an intensity that was hard to ignore. “If you’re going to throw words like that around, you better be prepared for what they do to me.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you blinked up at him, suddenly acutely aware of the space that had vanished between you. Garrick towered over you, his uniform rumpled from the day’s drills, a few straps still undone. The lamplight danced across the scar that cut through his temple, revealing the storm brewing in his eyes.

“What—” You began, but your words faded into the heavy silence as he reached out, dragging his fingers along your jaw with a touch that was both tender and possessive. The tension between you, always there, began to hum with a dangerous promise, ready to ignite with just a single spark.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting for you to push me just a little too far?” he says, his voice low and husky, each word dripping with unrestrained desire. “How long I’ve imagined bending you over this gods damned table while you're still spewing stratagy objections?”

You swallow hard, the weight of his words igniting something deep within you, awakening a surge of boldness that you didn’t know you possessed. “Then do it.”

The moment those defiant words leave your mouth, Garrick springs into action. In one fluid motion, he clears the table, sending stacks of parchment and colorful markers tumbling to the floor with a heavy thud that reverberates in the dimly lit room. The sound of chaos is almost intoxicating, a symphony of anticipation that makes your heart race. Without breaking eye contact, he seizes you by the hips, effortlessly lifting you onto the table as if you weigh no more than a feather.

His mouth crashes into yours, fierce and hungry, a whirlwind of heat and intensity that leaves you breathless. The kiss is possessive, unapologetic, as though he’s claiming you—body and soul. You gasp, surrendering to the way his tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring with a confidence that makes your pulse quicken. In this moment, you feel utterly consumed, as if your very essence has become entwined with his.

“I could ruin you right here,” he growls against your lips, his hands sliding up your thighs, calloused palms brushing against the fabric that separates you. “Right on top of classified documents. Where anyone can come in and see.”

A soft moan escapes you, the sound escaping unbidden as you clutch at the fabric of his collar, pulling him closer. 

With a swift motion, he pushes you onto your back, dragging you down the table until your thighs dangle over the edge, vulnerable and exposed. He deftly pulls your pants down your legs, revealing more skin to his eager gaze. Kneeling before you, he hooks your legs over his shoulders, the world around you fading into nothingness.

His fingers tug your underwear aside, teasingly slow, igniting a fire that burns bright within you. “No teasing,” you warn, your voice strained with anticipation.

A smirk dances across his lips, barely brushing against your inner thigh. “I never tease. I devour.” 

And he does.

His tongue moves with an exhilarating skill and precision, igniting a wave of sensations that draws a strangled cry from your throat. As he licks into you, the initial slow rhythm builds with an eager urgency, each flick of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge. He holds your thighs wide, his thumbs pressing bruises into your skin that mark your surrender, making it impossible to squirm away from the relentless pace of his assault.

You feel the world around you blurring into nothing as pleasure surges through you like wildfire. The heat of his mouth consumes you, and before you can process it, you come fast, a symphony of bliss crashing over you as you cry out his name. Your back arches off the table, seeking more of the intoxicating pressure, more of him. He doesn’t stop—not right away. Instead, he licks you through the waves of ecstasy, savoring every shudder that ripples through your body until your legs tremble against his shoulders, thoroughly spent yet craving more.

Only then does he rise, lips glistening with your essence, eyes burning with an insatiable ferocity. “Still with me?” he asks, his voice a low growl, fingers deftly undoing his belt, the sound echoing in the charged atmosphere.

You nod, breathless, still reeling from the aftershocks coursing through you.

“Good.” His pants slip down to his knees, revealing the hard evidence of his desire. He steps forward, lining himself up, his gaze locked onto yours, thick and commanding, and thrusts into you with a single stroke that knocks the wind from your lungs. 

A gasp escapes you as he fills you completely, the sensation overwhelming. “Fuck,” Garrick groans, his voice thick with lust. “You feel—gods, you feel better than I ever let myself imagine.”

He sets a brutal rhythm, hips crashing into you with a fervor that makes the table rock beneath the force of his thrusts, wood creaking in protest as if echoing your shared desperation. His grip on your hips is vice-like, bruising yet intoxicating, each thrust driving you deeper into a haze of raw pleasure. Low curses spill from his mouth, mingling with your own breathless gasps as he takes you without restraint.

“You love being fucked where anyone could walk in,” he pants, the wildness in his voice sending shivers down your spine. “Don’t you?”

You nod frantically, lost in the way he fills you, the way he claims every inch of you with primal ownership. 

“You want them to know you’re mine now?” he asks, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart race.

“Yours,” you breathe, the word spilling from your lips as an affirmation of surrender.

He growls deep in his chest, a feral sound that reverberates through the air, igniting a primal instinct deep within you. With every thrust, he pushes deeper, harder, the relentless rhythm driving you toward the precipice once more. The world around you blurs, and stars burst behind your eyes, a kaleidoscope of brilliance exploding in a haze of ecstasy. A second orgasm rips through you, raw and violent, leaving you gasping as waves of pleasure crash over your body like a tempest, each pulse radiating from the core of your being.

Garrick follows suit with a harsh grunt, the sound rumbling from his throat as he buries himself to the hilt, filling you completely as he spills inside you. The warmth of his release mixes with the electric energy still coursing through your veins, a heady combination that sends a shiver down your spine. For a moment, time seems to suspend, and all that exists are the ragged breaths that escape your lips and the creak of the old table beneath your shivering bodies, the haunting music of your surrender echoing in the stillness of the room.

The air hangs thick with the scent of sweat and sex, an intoxicating blend that wraps around you like a cocoon, blurring the lines between pleasure and reality. Garrick leans down, his breath hot against your skin, lips brushing your ear with a tantalizing intimacy that sends goosebumps racing across your flesh. “Objections?” he murmurs, his voice a low, velvety growl that stirs something fierce within you.

You let out a laugh, breathless and wild, the sound mingling with the soft thrum of your racing heart. “None. You win,” you reply, the words flowing effortlessly.

His mouth curves into a smirk against your neck, a predatory satisfaction lighting up his features. The way he looks at you now, with a mix of triumph and hunger, sends a thrill coursing through your veins. “Good,” he replies, his tone rich with a promise that hangs heavy in the air. “Because I plan to run these drills again. Thoroughly.”

Everything Taglist: @lxnvmvrzx @bodhidurrans @bookwormysblog @nikfigueiredo

[lokiswifeduh]

How we say goodbye

Pairings - Bestfriend!Neighbor!Bucky x Fem!Naive!Bestfriend!Reader

Summary - The reader is moving to go to college and Bucky takes his opportunity to say one final goodbye.

Warnings - smut, p in v, choking, praise kink, naive reader, somewhat of dubious consent. reader is a virgin, Bucky is around 22 and the reader is 18.

Notes - This is somewhat of a modern!au. This is my first time writing smut on here so please don't judge too hard!! Also, let me know if there are any other warnings I need to put up, thank you for reading loves!

WC - 1,960

masterlist

"Bucky!!" You opened the front door, revealing your neighbor standing there with some more boxes to help prepare for your move. "Good mornin' doll." He grins, stepping past you as you hold the door wide open.

"You can just put them upstairs beside my bedroom!" You smiled, shutting the door and moving to walk up the stairs.

You were currently packing for your move to college. Trading the busy New York atmosphere for a quaint college town in Connecticut. Not too far, however far enough in Bucky's opinion. But he would never let you know that.

He follows you up the stairs, shamelessly watching your ass sway in your tight black leggings as you took each step.

"Here okay?" He gestured inside your bedroom. You were about to protest, knowing your parents would never let a boy in your room, especially Bucky with how close you guys were. But he moved inside the room before you could object. "Just this once," You thought, knowing your parents weren't home at the moment.

Bucky dropped the boxes on the ground, his shirt riding up slightly. You watched from behind as his abs flexed below the tent of his shirt, keeping your eyes on the v-line of muscle that led right below the hem of his jeans.

"See something you like, doll?" Bucky smirked, making you look up at him with wide eyes. You didn't realize how long you had been staring. A slight blush rose to your cheeks, words suddenly not wanting to form in your mouth.

You had always thought Bucky was attractive. More than attractive as you grew older. Sexy, hot, absolutely delicious. Other more not as telling synonyms.

Bucky chuckled, lounging down on your still-made bed. A white comforter adorned the double mattress. White, frilly, pillows and a couple throw blankets also lay on the bed.

"I'm gonna miss this bed, doll."

You laugh, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, taking a pillow in your arms and placing it in your lap. "You have a bed, Buck. Not even a hundred feet away from mine."

He groaned, laying back on your pillows, "It's not the same, honey." He stretched out. You could feel him watching you as he played with the edge of your white flowery blouse. "I'm gonna miss everything about you."

"Everything about me?" You turned back, loving the way his hand felt against your skin as he rubbed soft circles into the dip of your lower back. "What about me?" He smiled with that devious smirk, "Oh I'll miss you the most sweetheart." You turned back, playing with the pillow as he rose, coming to sit behind you. You were about to turn around when he placed a hand on your shoulder, his mouth so close to your ear you could feel his breath on your neck.

"But most of all I'm gonna miss your laugh," He started tucking your hair away from your neck, bringing it all to one side. "I'm gonna miss your smile." You felt your heart bloom, knowing how much Bucky adored you.

"I'm gonna miss the way you so innocently move your body in front of me without even knowing what it does to me." "Bucky?" "Shhh..."

He moved his hand from your shoulder to right below your jaw, rubbing circles with his thumb around your throat. "You're alright, doll. You're my doll." He started to kiss your neck, making you freeze. "You're always gonna be my doll."

Without warning he pulled you back, making your head plop softly onto the pillows as placed both his knees on each side of your body.

"Bucky!" Your eyes were wide, wondering what had gotten into him all of a sudden. But he only shushed you once again, taking his hand that wasn't on your throat and ripping the frilly pillow you had in your arms away.

"I've wanted to touch you for so long, doll." You gulped, watching his eyes turn dark as he licked his lips. "I've wanted to make you mine ever since I saw Steve kiss you at that party in sophomore year."

"We didn't do anything, Buck. Steve didn't-" "But he took something from me, see, doll." Bucky moved closer, wrapping your legs around his waist, "I wanted to be your first."

He moved his hand, taking your socks off without you even realizing. "Your first kiss," Then placing his hand on the waistband of your leggings, "Your first date." He removed his hand from your throat, tucking his fingers under the band of your leggings and ripping them down your legs.

You shrieked, trying to hide yourself but failing. "The first person who ever got to taste you, doll." "Bucky, I've- I've never." You stuttered only to have Bucky place a finger on your lips. "Don't worry, I'll go slow, honey."

You wanted to object, tell him it was wrong but the tingling sensation you felt in your lower belly made you keep quiet. You wanted more.

Bucky delved down, placing an open-mouthed kiss on your covered pussy. "Ahhh," You arched your back, never having felt these feelings, these sensations before. Bucky only looked up, seeing your heavy-lidded eyes as you watched him make out with your covered clit.

He licked and sucked at your pussy, only satisfied when he saw the substantial wet spot that now soaked your panties.

"P-please Bucky." He stopped, holding both sides of your cotton thong in his hands as he looked up at you. "What, doll?"

"M-more."

He smirked, "What do you want, baby? I need words." You gulped, your hand coming down to clench your comforter in your palm. "I don't know, Buck. Just.. more." Bucky smirked, "That's alright, doll. Don't worry." He placed a soft kiss on your pussy. "I'll give you everything you need."

Without warning he ripped down your thong, a red mark coming to your thighs from the sudden roughness. Placing soft kissing in between your legs, Bucky dove in, licking a long stripe up from your entrance to your clit.

Your back arched once more, feeling the way he sucked, pulled, and licked your clit. You moaned, your eyes falling closed as you tugged on the bed sheets harder. One particular amazing feeling made you grip onto Bucky's hair instead; making him groan into you. The vibrations only spurring you and him on more.

He moved his hand, suddenly urging his middle finger into your entrance, making your eyes fly open as you looked down at him staring right at you. "B-buck, It hurts." Bucky lifted his face from your pussy, licking his lips. "I know, doll. But I gotta loosen you up a bit." You groaned, feeling his larger middle finger pushing in. "It'll feel good soon, I promise, honey."

And it did, once Bucky again started sucking on your clit while slowly moving his middle finger in and out you started to feel something you never had before.

Sure, you had played with yourself down there before. Even tried to sit on the washing machine when Natasha told you that's what she did before she and Wanda got together but THIS?

This was something you had never felt.

"Bucky! Bucky, I think I'm gonna-" "Just let it out, doll," He kissed your thigh as he slipped a second finger in, "Let it happen, sweetheart."

And you did, you felt white-hot flashes of any and everything shooting through your body as your first orgasm hit, making your legs convulse as Bucky worked you through it.

"Good girl." He continued giving you small kitten licks to your clit, "Such a good doll for me." You felt your whole body preen at the praise as you started to come down.

You breathed heavily, aware of Bucky slipping his fingers out of you before moving off the bed to shed his own jeans and boxers.

"Bucky?" You finally opened your eyes, seeing him hovering over you, moving your legs so he was snuggly in between them. "You're so good for me, doll." A soft kiss was placed on your lips.

You bit your lip, feeling the tip of his dick as he rubbed it through the lips of your pussy. You held onto his arms as he positioned his dick to your entrance, looking back into your eyes.

Maintaining eye contact, Bucky started to push his hips down, making you squirm upwards. He groaned, placing a hand above your shoulder to stop you from moving as his other palm placed itself on your hip; keeping you still.

"B-Bucky! S-stop, it hurts!!" But he kept going, rubbing your clit with the hand that was on your hip. "It'll feel so good, doll. Just gotta get it in."

He pushed all the way in without warning, making you shriek as your nails clamped down into Bucky's skin, drawing blood. "Bucky!"

"You're so tight, doll." His voice was husky, his hair now in his face as his eyes shut, "Fuckin' made for me, baby."

You felt tears come to your eyes from the stretch, wanting nothing but to push him off of you. But then when his hips moved out and forward once again you felt a tingling in your lower belly. Bucky was moving his length in and out of you at a rough pace.

The pain had subsided, now you only felt pleasure. His hips snapped as he rubbed your clit. "Here baby, let me show you." He moved your hand from his bicep, making you place two fingers on your clit and moving them in circles. "Keep doing that for me, doll."

You obeyed, watching as he moved his hand to your throat, pressing his thumb and pointer finger to the sides of your neck. Your eyes widened once again as you felt the air constrict.

"Keep rubbing yourself just like I taught you, baby." Your mouth fell open in response to him squeezing your throat. "Just like that, doll." His hips kept snapping forward, hitting that spot inside of you that you didn't even know existed.

Once again white hot flashes of pleasure shot through every single nerve ending in your body. Bucky could sense you were close as he closed his hand a little tighter on your throat, making you speed up the movements on your clit. "Come on, doll. Cum for me baby."

You nodded, wanting to please Bucky. Your eyes shut closed as he sped up his thrusts at an inhuman speed, wanting to make you cum first. "Come on, I know you can do it. You've been such a good girl for me," He moved down, lips as the shell of your ear. "Fucking cum, doll."

And you did, clenching down hard on his dick as your legs shook. Bucky felt you start to orgasm as his cum shot deep inside of you, making him groan as his own legs shook a little on yours.

He let the grip on your throat go, replacing his lips with kisses to the spots he knew would bruise. You felt a heating sensation as Bucky slipped out of you, making you look down as he collected his cum with his middle and index finger.

"Taste what you made me do, doll." He brought his fingers up to your lips, making you taste yours and his cum on your tongue. "Swallow." He ordered, which you instantly obeyed, feeling the sweet yet salty taste go down your throat.

Placing the throw blanket over your two bodies, he collected you into his arms. Bucky planted a soft kiss on the crown of your head, moving his hand to your jaw to make you look at him.

"This is just how we say goodbye from now on, alright doll?" You nod, smiling up at him. "Okay, Bucky."

---

masterlist

[nvxzaa]

── .✦ I love you, I’m sorry

Pairing : ¡Dad!idol¡Christopher Bahng x reader

Word : 1.2k

Genre : fluff, angst

Warning : none

The living room was bathed in a soft glow, the TV broadcasting cartoons at low volume. Their daughter was playing on her stomach on the carpet, her fingers clutching a stuffed panda.

Chan was slumped on the sofa, phone in hand, while Yn cleared the table, tidied up the kitchen, folded a plaid, picked up a spilt cup of water...

She stopped suddenly, as if something had just given way inside.

- Are you going to move, or do you just want to be part of the scenery?

Chan looked up, surprised.

- What's the matter? What's the matter with you?

- What's wrong with me? It's that I'm wearing myself out day in, day out while Monsieur looks at his phone and waits for the day to pass.

- I'm not waiting for anything. And you could talk to me differently, especially in front of the kid.

- That's right, Chan. In front of the girl. She's looking at you. She calls to you. She shows you her toys. She's waiting for you. What are you doing? Not a thing. You don't even look up.

He straightened up, arms outstretched.

- I've got a whole day on my back, I'm exhausted, Yn. You've got your days too, OK, but I can't stand having to walk on eggshells with you!

She laughed, bitter.

- You think I don't want to explode sometimes? You think I complain for the sake of it? I'm tired too. But the difference is that I stay on my feet. I keep going. Even when you're not there, even when you're not with me. Even when I feel like I'm sleeping alone every night and you're right next door.

He lowered his voice, but it vibrated with anger.

- Do you think I want it like this? Do you think I'm happy with what we've become?

- What we've become? Chan, you've given up. I just stopped begging.

And then he cracked. His voice went off the rails.

- You know something? If that's really how you feel... then maybe we'd better call it a day.

Silence shattered between them.

Yn froze. She stared at him for a few seconds, her eyes filled with immense disappointment. But she said nothing. She didn't say a word.

She simply looked away, walked past him without even brushing against him, and headed for the living room.

Their daughter looked up at her with a big smile.

- Mama! Look, Panda's sleeping.

Yn knelt down, stroked her daughter's hair, then took her gently in her arms.

Chan just stood there, unable to take a step and with a lump in his throat. He didn't know how to put back together what he'd just broken.

The days that followed were a desert.

Yn said nothing. She didn't look at him. She'd answer questions about their daughter, medical appointments, nursery schedules... but that was it. It was cold. Surgical. Every word was mechanical.

When Chan went into a room, she came out.

When he tried to help her, she'd let him without a word, then take it all back.

He'd leave notes for her on the table. She'd throw them in the trash without even opening them.

One morning, he made her coffee exactly the way she liked it. She let it get cold.

In the evening, he'd come home with his arms full. Flowers. Pastries. Pajamas for their daughter. Objects that were useless but full of purpose.

She'd place them on the hall cupboard, without a word. Not a smile. Not a thank you. Not even a glance.

Once, he'd even left her a box with a photo of them, from before. With a scribbled note: "I still want us."

She hadn't opened it.

Chan was losing his footing. He lived with her without existing in her eyes. Their daughter was the only light in this mute house.

And then, one evening, he couldn't stand it any longer. Their daughter had just fallen asleep, exhausted after a hectic day. Yn was sitting on the bed, her back to the door, holding something between her fingers.

The ring.

He entered, slowly. His throat tightened.

- Yn...

She didn't turn around.

- Yn, I can't go on like this. I can't stand your silence. I screwed up. I know you did. But you can't make me disappear like this... You can't punish me like this. Not when I regret it so much.

She sighed, shook her head slightly.

- You said it, Chan. You meant it. And I... I heard. I can't pretend anymore that it didn't destroy me.

She finally turned her face towards him. He saw her eyes, reddened but dry.

- I've tried. I gritted my teeth. I held out for her. But your "maybe we'd better stop now" opened a wound I don't know if I can close.

She began to slowly remove the ring. Chan stepped forward hurriedly.

- Don't do it. Not this. Not this again.

She insisted, he held her back gently. Then a second time, more firmly.

- Even if you put it on the table... even if you throw it across the room... I'll ask you to marry me again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. With another ring. And another. And another. Until you accept again.

His voice trembled. His eyes were misty, but he held on. Because he knew he still loved her. That he'd love her again tomorrow. And every day after that.

Yn didn't move this time. She clutched the ring in her fingers. And stood there.

Silent. But not indifferent.

She never left the room when he came in. She'd let him change their daughter, feed her. She watched him from a distance. Silently. But she was watching. And Chan could feel it.

He stopped talking to her to make amends. He acted.

He prepared meals. He got up at night. He put toys away after every game. He never took his eyes off their daughter. And sometimes, he would talk to Yn even if she didn't answer.

One day, he entered the kitchen while she was washing vegetables. He approached her gently.

- Do you need any help?

She didn't answer. But she pushed herself slightly to make room for him.

That evening, for the first time in a long time, they prepared dinner side by side. Silently, but together. And when their daughter burst out laughing as she ate, they looked at each other in spite of themselves.

A tiny glance.

But it was enough to rekindle a spark.

And then, another evening, after putting the little one to bed, Chan lay down on the sofa, as he did every night. He didn't want to return to their bed without her offering.

Yn entered, softly and quietly. She stopped beside him.

- I don't feel like forgiving you yet.

He sat up, surprised, his eyes fixed on her.

- I don't feel like kissing you yet. Or sleep against you. I don't feel like telling you it's going to be all right.

He lowered his head and nodded.

- I understand.

She took another step closer, then added:

- But I don't want you to sleep here tonight either.

He looked up at her. She wasn't smiling. But her words were clear.

She simply held out her hand. And he took it, gently. Without saying a word.

It wasn't forgiveness. It wasn't a return. It was a silent promise. A beginning. A hand stretched out on the edge of a precipice.

And that night, they slept in the same bed. At first, apart. Then, slowly... his fingers sought hers in the dark.

And Chan knew.

He still had a lot to prove. But she was still there.

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