#disturbing stick figures

[rjalker]

[ID: A stick figure drawing of a vicious werewolf labeled "me", with red eyes and blood-stained teeth standing over a puddle of blood labled, "the first dream I had in 2024". End ID.]

[lyr-caelum]

🌑 AS THE WORM MOON DIES 🪱

- Chapter 23.

If @rollercoasterwords makes me scream to my screen… i have to do the same to them 😏

(Thank you again for letting me draw what u write)

[coffee-bat]

i am inagony

[cats-and-confusion]

[pepprs]

also omg sorry i keep double vent posting not to mention vent posting at all and i really need to not do that bc it’s so late and i still have to clean the whole kitchen by myself (LOL!!!!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖) but i am so backed into a corner by this therapy situation like the way i cannot tell my counselor abt any of the things happening to me in real time AT ALL and i skipped my session this week in part bc he has me doing this erikson stages of psychology thing now and we literally are not gonna talk abt anything else happening until we get thru all the stages and i didn’t do my homework for it BC IM VERY BUSY AND ALSO UNWILLING TO MAKE MYSELF EVEN MORE MISERABLE??? DUH??? so we skipped the session and i feel so scolded and he sent me a voice memo telling me he thought we should skip it like Omg why is this a class and not counseling 😭 but i also was glad to skip it bc otherwise we would’ve talked abt things happening for me rn and i don’t even feel safe doing that w him at all anymore after the session we had at the beginning of this yr and i know it’s bad and i know i need to leave and i don’t know how. omg

[85-rend]

i want to eat my art tablet

[rowarn]

HEHE HI HERE U GO <3 HAPPY FRIDAY!!!!!

afab!reader, thigh riding, neglect kink tbh, brat tamer!simon?, soft!simon and mean!simon hehe, maybe a lil hurt/comfort if u squint

"please, si!" you practically sobbed, rutting your hips desperately against his thigh. 

simon sat still, lidded eyes cast over your shoulder to the tv that played a soccer match. he huffed through his nose but didn't offer any other verbal acknowledgement to your whines. 

you had disturbed him while he watched the game, pawing at him and begging for him to fuck you. he had ignored you completely so you naturally took matters into your own hands. you figured if you got him worked up enough, he would give in and give you attention instead of the stupid tv. 

but before you knew it, you were naked and rocking against his thigh. you were the only one between the two of you who showed any signs of being worked up. 

and simon? completely ignored you. he refused to offer any assistance, even when you teetered dangerously on your knees and almost toppled over. 

it honestly infuriated you as much as it turned you on. maybe it even embarrassed you a little to be ignore like this while completely naked and needy all over him.

he wouldn't flex his thigh to give you anything solid to grind on (although his thigh was pretty firm even when relaxed) and he certainly wasn't offering any words of encouragement to help you along. he simply stared over your shoulder at the tv, acting like he didn't have his sweet little love grinding a nice, wet pussy against him. 

he was hard in his sweats; that long, thick cock tenting in his pants. it was the only indication that he even noticed what you were doing. 

"s-simon!" you pathetically wailed, suddenly stopping your movements when you realized you most definitely weren't going to be able to cum with him ignoring you like this. you rested your head against his shoulder and tried to quell the intense trembling that wracked your whole body. 

under the sound of the cheers on tv, he could hear the sound of you sniffling and crying. he let you sit there for a second until you finally slumped in defeat against him. 

you let your breathing come down before you rolled off of his lap and shamefully began to pick up your clothes, completely unaware of the way he now watched you instead of the tv. he could see the dejected little frown on your lips and it made his own quirk up. 

you were so cute. 

before you could slink away to pout in the bedroom, he caught your wrist in his hand, tugging you back into his lap. you caught yourself against his chest, looking at him in bewilderment. you still had little tears in your eyes, no doubt still nursing hurt feelings from him ignoring you. 

"you done bein' a demanding little brat?" he asked. 

if you had doggy ears he's sure they'd be flattened shamefully against your head right about now with the pathetic little look you gave him. you nodded your head and normally he'd request verbal assurance but he let it slide. 

instead, he shifted his hips and situated you on it once again, your cunt still wet and sticking to the fabric of his sweatpants. 

"get to it then," he mutters, fixating his gaze back on the tv. he could see you pout out of the corner of his eye, clearly not feeling as confident as you had before. his hands came up to your hips, kneading the softness there in encouragement before flexing his thigh against you. 

at that, you finally started to move, slowly rutting your hips against the firm muscle. with his hands stabilizing you, you freely plucked at your own nipples, rolling the buds between your fingers as you humped him. 

you slowly got louder and louder as the pleasure grew until he couldn't hear the announcers on the tv. gritting his teeth, he cupped the back of your head and pulled your face against his shoulder to muffle you. you took the hint, biting down into the fabric of his shirt as your eyes rolled back. 

you were so close. and the way he began to bounce his thigh beneath you wasn't helping to slow it down. 

you gripped onto him for dear life, arms around his shoulders before pulling your head back despite your intentions to keep quiet and not disturb him any more than you had already. but truthfully, simon didn't mind listening to you cum. 

you sweetly called his name, babbling about how you were cumming and how good you felt. he bit back a smile, running his hand down your back to express his unspoken fondness of you. 

before long, after a few, sloppy rabbiting movements of your hips, you finally came to a halt. you slumped against him, panting and twitching.

"you done?" he asked, doing his best to sound like this whole endeavor had been a nuisance. 

you sheepishly looked up at his profile and nodded your head. but you didn't make any moves to leave him, instead curling against his chest and cuddling as close to him as you could. and he acquiesced, dropping the mean façade in favor of wrapping you up in his strong arms and pressing a kiss to your temple.

[kaiijo]

ROMANCE TROPES — [HAIKYUU]

characters: hinata shoyo, miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou, sakusa kiyoomi content: gn! reader, the msby four, rich sakusa (i am a rich sakusa truther until the end), bokuto picks you up, sakusa is implied to be taller than you notes: omg i lowkey want to do a fuller version of sakusa’s part 

hinata shoyo ✶ love at first sight

slouched in a plastic airport seat, hinata’s leg bounces anxiously as he awaits his flight. rain beats down the side of the windows and he prays to whatever universal force there is that the flight leaves at the right time. he couldn’t fly with everyone else earlier since he celebrated his grandmother’s birthday with family but it put him on a late night flight that lined up with an incoming storm. 

he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feed, double-tapping a photo of oikawa’s reunion with his high school team and tanaka’s anniversary post for kiyoko. 

the speaker system crackles to life. “attention, passengers of flight 7644 to sapporo, due to inclement weather conditions, the flight has been delayed an estimated two hours. we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.”

hinata curses under his breath, already on his way to pulling up the black jackals’s group chat to tell them. he pulls his cap off, running a hand through his hair with a long sigh. his phone begins to buzz with texts, no doubt from his coach telling him to keep them updated. 

he rests his forearms on his knees, slumping forward and skimming through the messages. then, he feels a cautious tap on his shoulder and a soft voice asks, “excuse me, do you have a charger i could use?”

when he looks up, hinata thinks the greater powers that be answered a different prayer of his. because holy shit he has never seen anyone as beautiful as you. you’re in a comfy-looking pullover and sweatpants and hinata only realizes he’s just been staring silently for a few seconds when your expression turns apologetic. “i’m sorry to bother you, i’ll ask someone else!”

“no, no, i’m sorry,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth. he scrambles to unzip his backpack, rummaging through until he triumphantly pulls out his charger. he hands it to you and you thank him. before you can leave, he blurts out, “i’m hinata.”

“oh!” you stick your hand out and tell him your name with a small smile and when you do, hinata knows that he’s gone. 

miya atsumu ✶ brother’s best friend

osamu’s not sure how atsumu managed to weasel his way into his plans. it was a bit of a blur, atsumu practically crashing through the door of onigiri miya as osamu closed up shop to go get drinks with you, begging to be included. he supposes to reason was pity and atsumu’s pleading look as well as the fact that you work far away that had him agreeing to his brother tagging along. 

it was in your last year of high school that osamu figured out his brother had a big, fat crush on you. honestly, it should have been more obvious, especially with the way atsumu flaunted himself and often paraded around the house shirtless when he knew you were coming over. it bothered him at first, thinking bitterly that ‘tsumu couldn’t let him just have one thing to himself? but over time, the annoyance faded as he saw atsumu prove that this wasn’t just a flight-of-fancy, and osamu has already made peace with the very real possibility that you could be his in-law someday. that is, is atsumu could even tell you in the first place.

it’s a little disturbing, osamu thinks, watching the way atsumu flirts with you and wondering if he too makes the same googly-eyes at someone he’s crushing on or if that’s the way he sounds. you giggle when atsumu tries to take a sip of your margarita, telling him, “order your own then, ‘tsumu!”

“nah, yours tastes way better.”

“can’t take this scrub anywhere,” osamu says, earning a laugh from you and a glare from his twin.

you pat atsumu’s shoulder and osamu can’t believe you don’t feel how atsumu melts into your touch. “i’m actually glad both of you are here,” you say, “because i wanted to tell you guys that i’m moving back to tokyo! my boss promoted me so i’m back at main headquarters! isn’t that great?”

“that’s awesome,” osamu says, speaking for both himself and atsumu, who looks like he just won the lottery. 

bokuto koutarou ✶ opposites attract

whenever akaashi introduces you and bokuto as a couple to new people, he always gets pulled over to the side and asked in a whisper, “how did those two get together? he’s so… and they’re less…” 

akaashi can’t say that he wasn’t surprised when you and bokuto started dating back in high school, given that they two of you were on very different trajectories. obviously, bokuto was the captain of fukurodani’s volleyball team while you were student council president and vice-president of chess club. bokuto’s grade sat at the lower end of the spectrum while you were always within the top five students in your class. bokuto liked loud, screaming parties while you preferred a quiet night with a few friends. 

so when bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders one day and shook him, saying that he needed to tell you how he felt, akaashi was taken off-guarded. he didn’t even know you knew each other beyond having a mutual friend, him. 

maybe back then, akaashi would have agreed with the person asking him but now, he just tells them to observe the two of you. because when akaashi does, everything falls into place. like right now, as he and bokuto sit in the stands, watching your final chess match. if you win, you’ll hold onto your spot as a national champion and go on to compete internationally. 

out of the corner of his eyes, akaashi watches as bokuto sits at the very edge of his seat, chewing on his bottom lip. it’s clearly killing him not to cheer and it’s a testament to both his devotion to you. your hand hovers above the bishop before you switch quickly to the queen and move the piece with confidence, setting it down and announcing, “checkmate.”

the crowds erupts into the cheers and you’ve only barely finished shaking your opponent’s hand when bokuto flies out of his seat and barrels towards you. he sweeps you off your feet, spinning you once and setting you down before planting a big kiss on your cheek. you’re beaming as you’re handing your trophy, and bokuto steps back to let you soak up your spotlight. akaashi can’t help but notice that bokuto is beaming too and clapping the loudest. 

as the crowd starts to disperse, akaashi and bokuto join you again, ready to take you to your planned dinner. before you leave, bokuto says, “i was going to do this later but i can’t hold it in anymore, babe.” and he gets down on one knee with a ring box akaashi is all-too familiar with. 

sakusa kiyoomi ✶ reunited childhood sweethearts 

“try not to look so dour, sweetheart,” sakusa’s mother tells him as she fixes his tie. sakusa wants to grumble some choice words but he knows better than to complain to her. besides, he’s only partially paying attention, eyes darting about the crowd and back towards the venue’s entrance. 

he settles on adjusting his mask with a barely audible sigh and mumbles a quiet thanks as she flits to fuss over his older siblings. he glances again, disappointed as a different group of people waltzes in. he knows his older sister wouldn’t be so cruel as to lie to him that your family will be in attendance but the anxiety is making his antsy.

the two of you were inseparable as children with you being one of his only friends growing up.  you spent you days squirreled away in some nook reading or outside playing volleyball. your mothers always cooed that you two would get together one day, and as he got older and learned what that really meant, sakusa found himself hoping too. but then your parents took you and your siblings abroad, leaving him alone and heartbroken. he cut you off, hoping the distances and time would make your departure hurt less, but it didn’t.

sakusa doesn’t recognize the voice that calls his name but his head snaps towards the doorway. you’re standing in between your older sister and younger brother, waving at him. his heart skips a beat. your social media postings don’t do you enough justice; you’re even more attractive that the pixels he’s spent hours staring at. 

you still have that ever-present smile on your face and you quickly break-off from your family to bound over to him. without even thinking, his arms close around you as you embrace him tightly. you feel so familiar and he doesn’t want to let you go as you part. evidently, you don’t either as you keep him close still, only leaning away to look at him. “you’re so tall,” you laugh, more shyly you add, “and very handsome.”

this time, sakusa thinks his heart stops. 

[beautifulsenpai]

thoughts on perverted nerd classmate that has a crush on himbo jock reader?? how would reader react when he figures that the nerdy classmate has a big fat crush on him??

you have no idea that your dorky nerdy classmate had an obsession with you since you were too busy with game practice…and you were stupid to notice. the nerdy classmate would watch you play basketball secretly, watching you all sweaty and tank top stick onto your body, your pecs noticeably sticking out would make him shake, and have an obvious boner.

he would even take pictures of you when you take a shower in the locker room after a good match, and somehow you don’t notice the heavy breathing and the noises of a camera. he would do a lot of things that you wouldn’t notice. he would use the pictures that he would take of you to jerk off in his bedroom, and surprisingly he has a big cock. thinking of you on all fours, your ass rippling, moaning out his name while he grips onto your asscheeks would make him release a big load of cum from the thought, whimpering like a pathetic loser.

you have finally found out about your classmate’s antics by one of your male classmates alerting you when they heard the nerdy classmate jerking off to your name. others might find this disgusting, and disturbing, but not you. you would take this to your advantage, making him your useless lapdog, and would reward him for his good deeds with pleasure.

for instance, when he completed your homework, you would use your pecs to pleasure his cock when it was just the both of you in the classroom. you rubbing his big dick between your squished pecs, as well as licking the tip of his dick when it reached where your mouth was, and afterward, he would release ropes of cum at your face and hair while he blissfully moans out your name.

he would follow you behind your back like an obedient mutt, doing whatever you tell him to do and then later on awarding him with jerking him off, sucking his cock, letting him touch your pecs and ass, and allowing him to fuck your ass. what’s better than having your own personal pathetic servant?

[rjalker]

Interacting with The Murderbot Diaries fandom moodboard

[Plain text: "Interacting with The Murderbot Diaries fandom moodboard". End plain text.]

[ID: Sixteen memes, described in order from left to right and top to bottom:

First: The Bugs Bunny in a tuxedo meme, now edited to say, " I wish people who misgender Murderbot a very shut the fuck up forever.

Second: A screenshot from the show Mako Mermaids, showing David grinning adoringly towards Nixie with his face propped up on his hands. David is labeled, "The Murderbot Diaries fandom", and Nixie is labeled "Exorsexism, transmisia, athiktomisia, ableism, racism, whitewashing, aroacemisia, abuse apologism,"

Third: A stick figure drawing of a werewolf with red eyes and sharp bloody teeth, sanding over a pool of blood labeled, "people who misgender Murderbot".

Fourth: A screenshot from the show iCarly, showing Gibby, labeled "Me", about to hit Spencer, labeled, "people who misgender Murderbot" over the head with a stop sigh.

Fifth: The "is this a pigeon?" meme, edited so the person is labeled, "The Murderbot Diaries fandom", saying, "Are we a safe and welcoming space for nonbinary people, touch averse people, nonpartnering aroace people, and people of color?" While pointing at, "The most oppressively exorsexist, ableist, amisic, and racist fandom I've ever had the misfortune of being in".

Sixth: The meme of an anime character saying, "oh so it was a joke", now edited so they are saying, "Oh, so you're purposefully and knowingly misgendering Murderbot because you think people who use it/its pronouns don't deserve to respect", followed by a closeup of their hand holding a rock, captioned, "Saying this, it aggressively picked up a large rock with killing intent written in its every movement."

Seventh: A Screenshot from the Beauty and the Beast show from 1987, showing someone holding a newspaper whose headline now reads, "Local nonbinary werewolf loses its shit, mauls five exorsexists", with smaller text beneath continuing, "Strange Mauling in the Park Puzzle Police".

Eighth: A digital drawing of Murderbot, edited so it is holding a gun pointed at the camera, now with glowing red eyes from under its helmet, and a filter of red noise and static, reading in all caps, "use it/its pronouns for me or stop pretending you care about me".

Ninth: Two screnshots from The Good Place, showing Shawn now saying, "I have heard no statements nor seen any evidence to suggets…oh misgenders Murderbot? Yeah, they all definitely belong in the Bad Place.".

Tenth: Three screenshots from The Good Place, showing Eleanor and Chidi talking. Eleanor says, "I'm proud to misgender Murderbot because I refuse to respect people's pronouns if they use it/its." Chidi responds, "Okay, but that's blatant exorsexism. Tell me you understand how exorsexist you are being."

Eleventh: A screenshot from the 1974 short film, "A Political Cartoon", showing Peter President standing at the podium, now edited so he is holding a baseball bat, captioned, "[violence against exorsexists commences]".

Twelfth: A screenshot from the show Farscape, showing John Crichton sitting on the floor, holding a blue mask in one hand, staring towards the camera, looking distressed. Text above and below reads, "When The Murderbot Diaries fandom promises they respect and love nonbinary people…while they're right in the middle of misgendering Murderbot and demanding that no one is allowed to be upset with them for this.".

Thirteenth: The meme of an uno card, then someone holding a massive handful of cards. The card now reads "Don't misgender Murderbor or draw 25". The person who has drawn 25 cards is labeled, "The Murderbot Diaries fandom".

Fourteenth: A screenshot from the Muppets, showing one of the characters speaking, edited to now say, "Insult of your choice, we all know that Murderbot is not a human. Your pathetic attempts to justify your transmisia and exorsexism in misgendering it by claiming it/its pronouns are 'dehumanizing' shows you do not actually give a single shit about Murderbot, or real people who use it/its pronouns, and furthermore that you have literally zero understanding of this character or the themes of this series even though it's not fucking subtle. Shut the fuck up or just admit you hate nonbinary people. Literally everyone can already tell.".

Fifteenth: A photo of a prop for a movie of a quadrupedal werewolf snarling with its mouth wide open, labeled, "Me @ people who misgender Murderbot".

Sixteenth: A digital drawing of Murderbot against a pale blue background, that reads, "Murderbot would hate every single one of you fucking bigots".

End ID.]

No, there is literally zero excuse for you to call Murderbot anything other than it/its pronouns. There are no excuses. There is no justification.

Any fucking argument you try to use to justify misgendering Murderbot is an argument that has been used to justify misgendering me.

If you think you're literally incapable of calling someone by it/its pronouns even when those are literally the person's pronouns, leave this fucking fandom and don't come back until you can treat nonbinary people with the bare minimum of respect.

If you are so distressed by people going by it/its pronouns, you have no fucking buisness being in a fandom for books where the protagonist and many other character use it/its pronouns.

There is no fucking excuse for misgender Murderbot or any other person who uses it/its pronouns. Murderbot is a fictional character, but you are perpetuating real bigotry when you misgender it.

[Plain text: "There is no fucking excuse for misgender Murderbot or any other person who uses it/its pronouns. Murderbot is a fictional character, but you are perpetuating real bigotry when you misgender it." End plain text.]

[memento-mariii]

Last week, I did a small but objectively kind act (took a snail that got mixed in our groceries, took it out, and set it on a leaf outside), and the fact that I live in guilt over it to this day (worrying that I might not have picked the *right* place for it and thus may be inadvertently responsible for its death) is just another proof that I have moral scrupulosity issues and that I probably can stand to worry about these things less.

[frogchiro]

Beauty is in the eye of The Beholder

Author's note: My first kinktober entry!! Yay! We're staring with a new-ish concept so I hope you like it!

Also I apologize for the short story but I was moving into my dorm for uni today and it literally took all day so I apologize in advance :((

Warnings: slight nsfw, reader is female, general creepyness, whatever König is (human or not) isn't explicitly specified but he does some unnerving/possibly uncomfortable stuff like stalking so keep it in mind, mentioned death but nothing explicit.

The almost suffocating warmth coming from behind you is almost too much. Almost. However considering the events of the day you guess that it could be called comfortable to be cuddled and nuzzled by König, your colonel, your superior and...well, mate as he calls it. It can be sometimes tricky to hear him, for a man that size he's unnervingly silent and stealthy and his voice is low and quiet, almost whispery, not to mention that König just doesn't talk much so to hear him rasp that one word, 'mate', in your direction is a feat in itself.

While at first you were terrified of the enormous male due to all the stated reasons something about him was equally unnerving and yet alluring, like an invisible pull towards him.

At first you thought you were going crazy, everywhere you went you saw the tall, lean figure of the colonel doing nothing but just...watching you. His bloodshot eyes stared at you without ever blinking as you laid a USB stick with data you managed to hack with a tremble in your hands, your eyes not daring to meet his. Another such instance was when he almost scared you to death in an empty hallway at night when you just wanted to get a quick midnight snack from the kitchen and just barely held in a scream when you noticed König standing in a dark corner, silent and static like always, his head wasn't even moving under his cowl except for his eyes which followed you as you were scuttling and whispering shaky excuses.

You were KorTac's newest asset, a skilled hacker and yet many soldiers underestimated you; you guess you can't really blame them, you're only in your early twenties and your soft build isn't really military-esque so you suppose you kinda look a little mismatched, but that doesn't excuse what people were whispering behind your back. Not all of them, not even the majority as you were considered friendly and overall harmless, and yet these few whispered sneers cut deep into your self esteem which eventually led you into the moment you were now in.

You were laying under a thick blanket with König plastered against your back, your quiet sniffles the only thing that disturbed the otherwise quiet room. You felt bad that you were taking up König's time, after all as a colonel he surely had better things to do than lay around with his 'mate' and comfort her after some asshole insulted her although a small, selfish part of you was over the moon with happiness that the huge male behind you was cuddling and comforting you so sweetly despite not muttering anything besides the occasional nuzzle and a raspy 'pretty...soft...mine'.

Turning around, you smiled tiredly at the man beside you, his wide blue eyes never blinking as they continued to stare at you with the devotion and love someone may only give their god and yet here you are, loved and cherished by this huge man, a monster many call him, a merciless goliath that kills and destroys everything in his path like a god of war but you know better. König's huge hands ran up and down your soft sides, lightly grazing your belly and finally his large, warm hands slipped under your pajama shirt and up to your breast where he squeezed lightly, pinching at your nipple.

"König...Please I-", your pleading for...whatever were quickly cut short when the long haired male leaned in with a purr deep in his chest and nuzzled his hooked nose against your cheek, scarred lips making tiny movements as if kissing you making you giggle wetly, your former awful mood lifting, instead being replaced by a warm feeling of love and pleasure as the big male above you kept nuzzling and kissing you insistently, his hand working your sensitive breasts and slipping down to your pants to finger at your clit making you moan out.

Unbeknownst to you, König already had a plan in his mind. A plan he started to make the moment his sensitive ears caught your distressed sniffles making a concerned whine come up from his chest and the moment he saw you, he could clearly see right through you. Someone hurt you. S̷̙̭̦̜͚̑͝͝o̷̹̺͓͙̭̍̚ͅͅm̸͕̹͖̩̰͝e̸̤͖̞̯̍̂̋̚͜o̷̝̫͎̬͎̟̲̦̞̍̆̿̀̀͛̐ņ̴̧͉̭̪̣̖͆̉̅̀e̵̜̜̪̯͛͑́͘ ̶͎̣̱͎̹̻͍̥̔́͝h̵̙̰͊̈́̑͛̌̚u̷͉̝̤̾̆͌̂̓̀̏̕r̸̛̞̘͉̦͙͈͎̫̩͒͊͗̓́͝t̶̯̝͎̮͕̩̹̀̍ ̷̧̨͔̮͉͇͊͂̏͌̆̅͠y̸̡̛͕͉̖͈͗̿̅ơ̷̢͖̼͉͚͔͊̍̊̂̈ͅŭ̷̦͔͚̈́̊̚. And now he needed to know who. Ah. It was Gavin huh. That overly confident, cocksure rookie who thought that the military was rainbow and fucking sunshine, shaded glasses, cool uniforms, huge expensive cars and women to fuck left and right.

He suspected that that prick made some unwanted advances towards you and the moment you rejected him it was 180 and he was nitpicking everything you did or even how you looked. König knew he was gonna be a problem from the moment he laid eyes on him and now he though it funny to make his mate cry?

You know what they say: beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Him being the mentioned beholder and König isn't known to be the most benevolent person...If someone doesn't appreciate your beauty of a goddess, why would they need their eyes?

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x reader: Unchained[*]

A/N: it’s a mess because I had no idea where it was going when it started 😭

Warnings: Masturbation, shadow-play (absolute menaces), slight voyeurism, hand job + blowjob, smut, soft!Az?, biting, forced proximity?

Word count: 4,408

You glare at the shadows as they twine up your thighs, nudging your book out the way.

Rolling your eyes, smile on your lips, you return to your story, having just settled down to read. The second you remove your attention from them however, they’re knocking at your book again, flicking between your fingers, eventually loosening your grip enough it falls into your lap. Brow scrunches as you peer at the shadows, “what’s gotten into you today, hm? You’re normally so docile?”

The darkness dances around your fingers, nuzzling against the dip of your palm, making you laugh. “Is your master ignoring you again?” Lips stretch at the imagery—they sometimes get a little antsy when he buries himself in work, feeling lonely and neglected. As if in answer, the shadows scoot up your arms, wrapping around your shoulders, pushing between your shoulder blades. A laugh huffs from your mouth as you raise to your feet. “Okay, okay,” you chide, softly, “lead the way. But you know how he is, I doubt I’ll be able to do much other than maybe play with you for a little.”

A shadow lightly brushes the crest of your cheek, making you smile despite the nerves building beneath your skin. He won’t be upset with you for disturbing him, will he? The last thing you want is to distract him. But if his shadows are the ones calling you… Teeth prod into your lower lip. Warmth dusts your cheeks, getting to see him.

Mindlessly, you allow the shadows to guide you through the hallways of the House of Wind, feet padding quietly along the floors as your lead deeper into the residence. Strangely, you note, they don’t seem to be taking you to his office—walk you straight past the door. Heart spikes as you realise the direction they’re pushing you in.

Hesitantly, you come to a stop, shadows carrying on for a little before halting, turning to watch you.

“Are you sure about this? Won’t he want privacy if he’s in there?” You murmur to them, worrying your bottom lip. Brow scrunches deeper, “he’s not bringing his work into his bedroom, is he now?” You ask, slightly exasperated. His private chambers should be where he’s allowed to relax for the little time he allows himself.

The shadows don’t reply. Merely press against the small of your back, gently encouraging you forward.

Reluctantly, you follow their guidance, a little unsure. But it’s his shadows; they wouldn’t do anything he wouldn’t be happy with. Reassured, you obediently pad along with them. Until you reach his door.

It’s already peeked open a crack, and his shadows drop to your feet, sliding off your body with a feather-light touch. Slinking across the floorboards, returning to their master.

Quietly—so as not to disturb him if he’s resting—you inch toward the door. It’s not wide enough for you to peer through the hinges, so your eyes find the mirror that reflects the wide expanse of his bedchambers. A strange scent catches your attention—deeper than what you’re accustomed to…muskier? You wish you knew what it meant, but you haven’t been granted enough access to him to figure it out. It’s not distressed, though, you note. That scent, you’re well-accustomed with.

Softly, you push the door a little wider, just a centimetre or two, revealing just enough of the mirror for his whereabouts to become apparent.

Eyes widen as you hold in your breath of shock.

He’s propped up on the bed, wings pinned behind his back to the headboard, arms bound near the base of his spine, and…and he’s—… There’s not a scrap of clothing on him. Save for the blindfold tied across his eyes.

Tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth as you take him in, blood spiking in your veins. Traitorously flushing your skin.

His shadows sweep over the muscled planes of his heavenly body, grazing his chest, threading through his inky black hair—head tips back ever so slightly, craning into the touch. His canines prick into one corner of his lower lip, skin whitening with the pressure as his back arches, stomach gleaming with sweat; flexing as his darkness—

You nearly stumble backward, exhaling a soft breath.

Mouth goes dry, watching his shadows swarm his cock, squeezing their master torturously. His cheeks flush with colour, a guttural moan ripping from his chest as they twist mercilessly. A low curse growls from his mouth as the darkness fists in his hair, dragging him backward to expose the strong column of his throat.

You shouldn’t be seeing this. Dear gods, you should not be seeing this.

Throat rolls, and you move to take a step back, when something else catches your attention.

At your feet is a small key, the kind that fits into each of the doors in the house. Azriel must have locked up before starting. But if that’s the case, how did—

Shadows build at your back, right as you piece together how eager they had been to drag you over to their master. Shove between your shoulder blades, forcing you to stumble into the room in order to right yourself. A yelp breaks from your chest as you collide with the door, tripping over your feet as you nearly topple over.

Instantly, you smack your hand over your mouth, but he’s already heard. Body stiffening. Shadows halting their games.

“Who’s there?” He snarls, letters ripping viscerally from between his teeth, arms flexing as he makes to remove the blindfold but— His shadows aren’t cooperating. They should have already unchained him by now, yet they’re remaining neatly wrapped around his cock, unwilling to halt his pleasure entirely.

Mortification flushes your cheeks, and you spin. Just in time to see the door slam shut, lock clicking. Key returned to its home.

You stare at the shadows as they slink away, darting back across the floor to reach him. Azriel.

The shadowsinger straightens, awareness lighting his skin as instinct kicks in—but not the one he needs. Arousal is still spiking his heart, shifting his scent, making his mind muddy and unclear. Opposite him, your eyes are darting about the room, trying desperately to find something to explain away the situation. Anything save for admitting you were watching him, then his shadows caught you. Though technically it had been them that had gotten you into this predicament. Surely that counts for something…

“I said,” he repeats, so rough it’s difficult to decipher, “who’s there?”

Heat flushes your cheeks. Maybe if you sneak to the exit…

“Cassian, you’re a dead male if you don’t fucking get out,” he snarls, making you halt. You sometimes forget how close they are. How peculiar their bonds are, too. You could never imagine being so comfortable with someone else.

Silently, you turn back to the door, tip-toeing forward, reaching for the key. Shadows bat your hands away, abruptly surging forward to lock around your waist, firmly guiding you back to the centre of the room. Just a few feet from the foot of his bed.

Azriel’s brow dips when he doesn’t get a reply. “Cass.”

You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat. It wouldn’t surprise you.

Shadows snare your ankles, and you inhale sharply, staring down as the writhe at your feet, pinning you in place. Azriel stiffens when your noise reaches his ears—definitely not Cassian. Nor Rhys.

Blood practically freezes when your name slides from his tongue, voice thick and rough. How did he figure it out so quickly?

You swallow, praying to the mother he’ll believe you that his shadows pushed you in here. Pushed you in, and unlocked his door. Then relocked it.

No way.

“Yeah…” you answer, voice catching. Clear your throat. Shadows stutter at the sound of you, squeezing his cock, making his jaw tense. He opens his mouth to speak, but you jump first. “Azriel I swear I didn’t mean to see anything,” you say, words pouring from your lips like they’re made of wildfire. “I was just—Your shadows were telling me to come see you, so I did, but then we went past your office and I was worried I would interrupt you, but they kept telling me to go forward, and then we got here, and I— They pushed me in, and I’m so sorry, I promise I… I’m so sorry…”

Humiliation crawls down your spine, carefully averting your eyes from between his legs.

Again, he opens his mouth to talk, but instead a sharp groan drags from his mouth, teeth biting his lower lip as shadows pulse around his cock, flicking over the slit in his head. Arousal zaps between your legs, skin buzzing as you try your hardest to think of something to keep your scent from shifting.

“Uh… I’m really sorry, but the door’s locked, and they’re not letting me—” You gasp as they raise higher, suddenly snaking up to your calves, crawling up to your thighs. “Azriel…” You squeak, freezing as they brush beneath your skirts.

The shadowsinger shakes his head, almost in dismay. “They do this sometimes. Misbehave when I let them off,” he bites out, chewing his lower lip—slightly swollen. “I need you to remove the blindfold. They’ll cooperate when they know I can see them,” he mutters.

Heat pools in your lower belly, but when you make to move forward, the shadows allow it. “Untie the blindfold and you’re sure you’ll be fine?” You mumble, quietly padding forward, skin tingling as you try not to look at him too much. How devastatingly hungry he makes you.

Azriel nods, oblivious to your inner thoughts.

Despite shaky fingers, you make quick work of the blindfold, silk slipping easily from the knot, allowing your eyes to lock with blown out hazel. Pupils dilated from the darkness. You look away hastily.

Yet things only seem to get worse, much to your mutual embarrassment.

“I don’t know what they’re doing,” he grits out, sending a scathing glare to the idle darkness, content to remain snug around his cock, unwilling to click the key in the lock of his chain. You shake your head, “I’ll just undo them. Then you’ll be good to go, right?” Eyes lock again at the poor choice of words, and heat flushes your cheeks.

“If you’re comfortable…” he hedges, colour dusting his skin. At least you’re not alone in the awkwardness.

Nodding once, you crawl onto the bed, getting to your feet. The only way you’ll be able to reach the lock is by going down between his wings, as they’re blocking your access from the side. You try to ignore the heat that’s steadily building between your thighs. Pray Azriel won’t be able to tell as you lean over him, feet either side of his hips as you attempt to avoid the great wings at his back. They’re really fucking big though.

Fingers fumble, feeling for the chains, but darkness is shrouding him, making it nearly impossible to actually see what you’re doing. “Is there any way for you to at least remove them from your arms? I’m struggling to see what’s where…” You brush skin, then zero in on it, tracing down to his wrists. “Wait— I think…” You lean further, his shoulders tensing, head shifting to make room as you reach for where you assume the iron is. “Okay… I can feel the locks,” you report, squinting in attempt to see what you’re touching. “Do you remember which one has the key in, Azriel?” You ask, trying to feel your way around.

Beneath you, the male has gone silent. Body rigid.

“Azriel?” You repeat, halting your movements. Pull back. “Azriel, what— Oh my gods.”

“I’m so sorry. They��re not—” He cuts himself off, hissing your name in warning. Just a second too late for you to register as his shadows hook around your hips, having crept up the backs of your thighs. You’re roughly yanked away from the chains, pulled with enough force to make you—

“Motherfucker!” You hiss, collapsing into his lap, shadows still working him with agonising slowness.

In any other scenario, Azriel would have released a surprised laugh at hearing the foul curse coming from your mouth. Instead, his cock twitches, unaccustomed to hearing such a filthy word on your tongue.

Both of you stiffen with the proximity, eyes locking and widening as scents twine. Gazes break, hastily snapping away. Clear your throat.

“Should I— I mean, should I get Cass? Or maybe Rhys’ll know what to do?” You manage, voice heavy and thick. Azriel shakes his head. “They’ll never let me live this down,” he mutters, muscle flexing as he shifts beneath you. “Maybe you should just let them continue…” you murmur, heat flushing your cheeks as hazel cuts to you. Swallow once. “I mean, that’s what they’re doing, right? Trying to get you to—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he grits out, colour tinting his skin. Hisses when his shadows squeeze him in reprimand. Then stop entirely. Stubborn things.

Azriel’s chest rises up and down, sweat gleaming in the low light, your temperature increasing.

“Do you… Can I help?”

Hazel stares at you, making you want to steal the words back from the world. Open your mouth to apologise…

“You…” Muscle feathers in his jaw. Eyes flick to his shadows. One curls around his ear. Attention snaps to you, nostrils flaring delicately. “I would appreciate it,” he manages stiffly, still staring at you.

Mother strike you down.

Push away embarrassment, shifting in his lap, settling between his legs. Swallow once, wapping your hand around him. “I’m not sure what… Please tell me what you like.” Azriel sucks in a shaky breath, sending a free wave of his arousal wrapping around you, clouding your mind. “Firmer,” he instructs after you move your hand over him. He shudders, darkness stuttering at his back, brows digging together. “More,” he manages, sounding strained.

You grip him tighter, repeating the action, heart pounding as you watch his responses. His teeth biting into his lip, eyes pressed shut in attempts to manage his pleasure. Why is he wanting to stay in control when the whole point is to lose it?

That certainly won’t do.

Again, you shift, lips parting as your tongue flicks over the slit in his head, tasting the moisture that’s gathered there.

Azriel swears under his breath, feeling the weight of his attention on you. Exhilaration lighting your blood at being the centre of his arousal. Legs part, allowing you more access, and you settle more comfortably—one arm wrapping beneath his thigh, free hand pumping what you know you won’t be able to swallow.

Shadows flicker, then yield entirely as you slide down onto him, taking him into your mouth, tongue shifting against the underside. Tension melts from his body, slumping slightly against the headboard as he twitches. A guttural moan rips from his throat as you flick your wet muscle just beneath his head, hand pumping his base, fingers soothing brushing against his hip bone. Gentle and torturous.

Your name slips from his tongue, deep and rough. “I can’t—… I’m—” You hum comfortingly, encouraging him along. Shadows flick over the backs of your thighs, spurring you to take him as deep as you can, throat flexing around him as he twitches. His hips buck, causing a small gagging sound to whimper from you, and he groans. Without hesitating, he repeats the action, bucking up into your mouth, needing a repeat. Throat contracts, squeezing him as you whine, tears building at the edges of your vision.

When you pull to his tip, then slide back down, his restraint snaps, cum spurting from his tip as he sinks back against the bed, head tipping to expose the strong column as it bobs. Chest rises and falls deeply, panting as euphoria concentrates his blood, blinding pleasure coating his skin. Eyes flutter as they roll upward, spine curving as you take him.

Slowly, you pull back, tongue flicking over your lips to catch anything you missed, lapping the remaining moisture from his head. Blown out hazel cuts into you, temperature spiking at the hunger he greets you with. “Where did you learn that?” He pants, eyes narrowing. You swallow; he tracks that, too. “It’d be a little embarrassing if I didn’t know at my age, don’t you think?” You counter, trying to bite back the heat that’s turned liquid between your thighs.

His throat rolls, eyes flicking downward—raking over you. Reassessing.

“Well,” you say hastily, “you should be good to—” Bite your tongue as shadows curiously play beneath your skirts, a single tendril sneaking beneath the band of your underwear, snapping it against your abdomen. His jaw ticks at the sound, knowing exactly what the darkness is doing to you. Right before his eyes.

“Will you…” Mother above, it’s much more difficult than he anticipated. With almost any other female, he would have no concerns at all. Shakes his head, straight to the point. “You enjoyed that.” He’s rewarded with the sound of you softly cursing, heat warming your skin, enough for him to shift with pleasure at the thought of sinking into you. How wet you must be from your scent.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I can’t help it.”

Azriel swallows thickly. “Act on it.”

Eyes lock, breath catches in your lungs. “What?” The male shifts, wings twitching as he rearranges them. “I know you want to,” he breathes, eyes fluttering slightly as he pulls your scent into him. “So I’m giving you the okay.” Shadows flick against your inner thighs, making your head dip. He’s saying it’s fine…and Gods you want him so badly.

Azriel nearly sighs with relief when you hesitantly settle your palms on his shoulders, nearly groans with delight as you fully put yourself over his lap, thighs either side of his hips. For so long he’s been waiting for you to open yourself up to him, gently plying you apart with incessant determination. And now here you are at last, crawling into his lap, ready to take him. Sends a quiet prayer to the Mother, thankful for the relief sweeping in.

Pleasure builds beneath his skin as you pull your skirts up, inadvertently displaying yourself to his hungry eyes. How the cotton is suctioned to your heat, undoubtedly a patch of darkened fabric at your entrance. He can scent your arousal; guess at how wet you are.

Fingers dip between your legs, shadows pulling your skirts taut against your pretty hips, allowing you to push the cotton aside, letting his tip slot against the soft dip between your thighs. He exhales a shaky breath, chest rising and falling heavily, attention glued to your cunt, watching as you brace both hands on his shoulders, heart spiking at the contact. Feel as you try to slide down, taking him slowly, swallowing his head.

Teeth bite into your lip as you begin to settle your weight over him, already feeling how big he is. Suck your lower lip in, spine curving as you rise up, then settle down, repeating the actions until you can fully sit yourself in his lap. Hips pressed tight against the backs of your thighs. Mouth opens in pleasure, eyes fluttering as you clamp down around him.

“You okay?” He breathes softly, feeling how tight you are around him, despite the wetness that’s dripping down onto him. Nod your head, though your eyes are still slightly rolled. You look numb with pleasure, and he needs to grip your hips, be in control so he can slam you down onto his cock. Abuse the spots inside of you he has yet to discover.

Azriel calls your name softly; you try to blink away your stupor. Straighten your spine, weight shifting over him, moans pouring from your lips as he grazes a part of you that—fuck.

Shadows twine around your back, letting you rest against the tops of his thighs as you pant heavily, heat buzzing beneath your skin—clothes need to come off. “Azriel…” you whimper. “Azriel, can you…?” Darkness flicks over your hips, skating up your stomach, pulling loose strings and dragging the fabric away almost in the blink of an eye. Lips part in pleasure as you slump a little in relief, cock pressing deeper.

“I need you to untie me,” he whispers gently, colour flushing his cheeks. “Can you do that for me?”

Peek your eyes open enough to latch onto hazel, pupils blown out. Moans softly whine from your chest—how intimate he looks. Swallow, then lips part. Shake your head, smiling softly. Azriel’s hip buck with need, urging you to rethink your decision. Back arches, a louder moan bursting from your chest. Forcing him to watch as you come apart while his shadows slink across your skin. Tongue flicks out to wet his lips as darkness plays with your perky nipples. Pinching. Biting.

“Azriel…” you moan. He growls in frustration, tugging on the self-inflicted restraints, begging for them to magically undo. Furious with his shadows for daring to put him through this kind of torture.

“I need you to untie me, pretty thing,” he groans, watching as you swirl your hips, exploring how his cock can make you feel. “Untie me, then we can have some fun. Wouldn’t you like that?” Lips part as your eyes lift into a smile, a mix between a moan and a laugh bubbling out. Shift so your full weight is over his hips, forcing his head to tip back against the headboard, eyes squeezing together as he tries to keep his sanity.

“You’re the one who tied yourself up,” you purr drowsily, arms gliding over the broad expanse of his shoulders, briefly attaching your mouth to one of the many paths of ink trailing across his chest. Teeth drag across hot, tan skin, tongue flicking over his nipple, hips bucking sharply, a quiet gasp huffing from his nipped-raw lips. Again, canines dig into the skin, attempting to quiet himself, but he has neither his hands nor his shadows to aid him this time.

You lean forward, mouth opening over his own, taking his lower lip between your teeth, tugging lightly. Hazel locks onto you; you purr. Spine curving, breasts softly pressing against him, almost aching with pleasure. Roll your hips.

He gives you a dark glance, peering at you from beneath a narrowed brow, dark locks of hair curling. You moan, hands greedily exploring the muscle of his shoulders, dipping down his back. Hazel widens as you brush his wings. Lips slant against his own, tongue flicking against him, and he opens eagerly. Unable to form a defence against you now the soft pads of your fingertips are stimulating him in such an intimate way.

“Like that, Azzie?” You ask lazily, rolling your hips onto him. Mind numbing from pleasure. Cock nestled so deep inside of you. “You like this sort of thing, don’t you?” Pull away to peer at him, moving with lethargic grace. A mix between a groan and a whimper hums at the back of his throat, and you grind against him in response.

“Please…” he breathes, “untie me, torturous thing.”

The grin that spreads across your mouth has hope vanishing, forced to watch as you lean back onto him, weight again shifting. Forced to watch as you ride him to your own pleasure, unable to move you how he wants, watch as your eyes roll back. Nails dig into him, lightly catching the edge of his wing as you retreat, and he nearly reaches his high right then and there. But you retract, chasing your own orgasm, and then you’re fluttering around his cock, cunt spasming as pleasure concentrates in your veins.

It’s only once you’ve slumped back against his thighs that shadows click the key in the lock. And all at once, he’s free. Free to touch you, to grip and grope. Unchained.

A high-pitched moan spills from your mouth into his as he flips you onto your back, hungrily devouring you as you’re pressed into the bed. Hands grip your wrists tight, simulating the torture of his own experiences, pinning you to his bed as he cages you in. Hips drawing back, then slamming in. Tears spill from your eyes, running back into your hair as he fucks you within an inch of a second orgasm.

“Azriel!” You gasp, breath having trouble entering and exiting your lungs from sheer pleasure. Slams in to the hilt, hips grinding against you as he halts his movements. Back arches, bowing off the bed, baring your chest for him to put his teeth over. Canines close around one nipple, pulling and tugging while keeping himself nestled deep in your wet cunt. Tongue circles and flicks over the sensitive peak, suckling lightly before giving his attention to your other.

“Azriel, please…!” You pant, crying out for him to continue, attempting to buck your hips. Trying to stimulate some friction. Pulls away from your breasts, gleaming from attention of his hot, wet mouth. “What do you want?” He growls, hissing from the way you clamp around him at the deep, syrupy pour of his voice, how it licks between your thighs, zaps pleasure to your clit.

Eyes lock together, your own set bright and gleaming from tears. “Move…please. Go harder.” A rough chuckles drags from the back of his throat, carnal and animalistic. Spawning butterflies in your abdomen, fluttering wildly at this untamed side of him. Canines push into the supple skin of your neck, stamping in his mark, printing his ownership onto your body.

Hips drag back. Then slam in.

Mouth parts in pleasure, muscles trembling as the second wave crashes over you, eyes rolling back as he pounds into you. Overstimulation breaks across your skin, the same time you feel him twitch, hot spurts of cum spilling into you. Pumping you full as he continues to abuse you over and over, causing you to shake and tremble while he keeps you pinned to his bed.

It’s only when the last aftershock of pleasure has subsided that he allows you reprieve. Rolling you over so you’re atop him, lazing together in the aftermath of pleasure. The tangle of limbs you’ve created, the mess sticking you together. Shadows lick and flick over your skin, wanting to play. Wanting another turn.

Azriel’s tempted to let them, after the torture you put him through.

Let them return the favour.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming

[loversmantra]

LOCK YOUR PHONE!

synopsis. a secret relationship. a fantasy.

content. itoshi sae x cisfem!reader. aged up characters (+20). fluffy but suggestive. implied sexy times. profanity. secret relationship. sending and receiving nudes. sae's kinda possessive in this but there's nothing crazy. lowercase intended.

wc. 1.3k

message from noe. i adore him i fear... listen to billie nossa nova by billie eilish for a better experience. been wanting to write something based on this song for a while and i thought sae fit perfectly! enjoy.

there’s a warm body in sae’s bed.

his still asleep brain takes a second to make the connection; the softness of you under him is no longer a feeling he’s used to. he puts two and two together, eventually, and wraps his arms tighter around you. awake, but unwilling to let the moment end, he buries his face into your neck.

too late. you stir, push yourself away from him. he can’t bring himself to blame you: it’s hot in the room, hot under the sheets.

there will be no more sleeping for him, but it isn’t too late for you — with that thought in mind he too rolls away, blinking once, twice, context coming back to him as his surroundings do.

the bed is neither his nor yours, though he could have put that together himself — the satin sheets gliding on his skin in such an alien way.

creams and soft pinks blur before his eyes, pale under the early morning’s light. paris. the hotel room he booked for you in a haze, almost feverish in his longing for you.

the downside of keeping a relationship under wraps, he supposes: his noose-tight schedule and the hawk eye of the public force meetings to be few and far in-between, the secret protected like crown jewels. he knows you’re tired of it; he knows because he is, too. it’s exhausting, constantly looking over his shoulder when taking you to his place, or on his way to yours. it’s exhausting, always having to find a different hang out spot, for fear of the media figuring him out. it’s exhausting, waking up and wondering: is today the day the world sinks its teeth into you?

sae’s never cared to keep secrets, at least never willingly — he says things as they are, does things as they need doing, full transparency, if it’s up to him.

it’s exhausting, it is. but that’s just one more thing on the list — and it’s so. damn. worth it. every downside comes with an upside, or else itoshi sae wouldn’t ever bother.

these hidden moments sae shares with you, no one else is privy to them. only he gets to know you like this, love you like this, warm and soft underneath him. no one knows because no one needs to know. just you and him.

no one gets to see you in your entirety: the shine of your eyes when they land on him; the loving curve of your mouth as you smile at him.

everything that belongs to you. for him only.

the face you made when you first entered today’s suite will stick with him for a while, he thinks. the pure delight and adoration shining in your eyes. your lips parting in wonder. all for him. all because of him. your princess room, that’s what you’d called it. a child’s dream, delicate in its simplicity, crushed and torn apart by the cruel world’s sharp, sharp teeth. stitched back together by him.

he knows how it feels, to be ripped to shreds. he’s glad he can do this for you, at the very least.

the world awakens and so does he; slumber slipping through his fingers as he rubs it away from his eyes, tiny sand grains leaving a small sting behind. he slept well. better than usual.

his phone is still on do not disturb. he doesn’t bother checking the time.

sae sits up, covers dropping to his thighs. beside him, you stir again, whine a little. maybe you can feel him leaving, even now in your sleep, feel the shadow of his absence. maybe you’re just bothered by his movements rocking the mattress. either way, you sleep. finding his pants in the mess of the suite bedroom, without the aggressive light of his phone’s flashlight to aid him, proves to be no easy task, but he manages eventually. he slips them on and slips away, closing the bedroom door softly.

it isn’t much brighter in the living space. the lazy sun is barely rising, only the idea of it permeating the gradual brightening of the sky.

phone still clutched in his hand, sae lets himself drop on the abnormally large leather couch, massaging the tender spots you viciously bit into his neck. with just a few swipes, he’s opened his camera roll. time to collect the prize: the surprise you leave for him after every passionate encounter.

the first time you did it, he didn’t even notice until a few days after the fact, when he went browsing through his pictures for a home screen-worthy photo of you.

there it was: a beautifully crafted souvenir of the time spent together. the flash of his phone camera punctuating every shot, barely noticed in the heat of the moment. the red of the set you wore that day.

selfies of you before, and after. your lingerie still intact — and the canvas of your chest painted purple by his loving mouth. not a single video, but at least a dozen pictures: of you, of him, of the two of you together.

a gift from you to him — one that had his blood boiling, had him flushed, aching, yearning all over again.

he sent you his favorite of the bunch — a mirror selfie of you, chest painted purple, a teasing finger pulling your bottom lip down — followed by a question mark. a wordless interrogation.

finally, thought you were never gonna see them, 11:22pm

-is the answer he got.

want more? 11:23pm

and he did. and he got more.

it’s been a while, since then — long enough for it to become a tradition, a little present left in his phone after a secret rendez-vous. so you don’t forget me, you joke.

but how could he?

he’s learned a lot, since that first time. the most important: you’re a fucking tease. lighting, cropping, outfit, pose, it’s an art form to you, down to the time it is for him, when you press send. more often than not, he gets the pictures in the middle of the day, when he can see but can’t do anything.

you’re decent enough to warn him beforehand, at least.

you better lock your phone ;)

and then the raunchiest picture he’s ever seen — you outdo yourself every time — is all over his screen. he’s had many, many close calls. you don’t stop. he never asks you to. he loves the damn pics.

always pictures, never videos — they’re not your thing, he’s learned. not that it matters.

sae would’ve never guessed you’d be such a great soft porn photographer.

the couch’s leather sticks to his skin as he moves, trying to get just a bit more comfortable. he’s about to open his camera roll, ready to unwrap his present, when shuffling near his head startles him out of his reverie.

“why’d you leave?” you murmur, voice still rough with sleep.

you’re completely wrapped in a thin sheet, the only barrier between his hungry eyes and your soft, soft skin. the only glimpse he gets is that of your ankles. a small golden chain rests there, snug. his name is spelled out among the links, hidden. for his eyes only. his chest constricts, almost painfully.

he doesn’t answer; only opens his arms so you can take your rightful place tucked against him. you lay down, covering the both of you with the sheet.

the sun finally peeks from below the horizon, warming your face. it’s peaceful.

“i didn’t want to wake you,” sae decides to say.

you shrug. “more time with you.”

he feels the same — still, your sleep and your comfort take precedence over anything, for him. over anything.

you look so beautiful, like this. waking the sun, blessed by its gentle glow. for his eyes only.

it won’t last. he knows it won’t — secrets never stay secret for long. but for now, simply living like this is enough, more than enough. enjoying the sun. enjoying you.

sae slept well. better than usual. you’re warm on his chest, traces of you warm on his skin. there’s a present waiting for him in his camera roll.

it won’t last — but it won’t hurt to enjoy it while it does.

you fall back asleep quickly, lulled by his steady heartbeat. he follows easily. his dreams are swaddled in creams and soft pinks, and the warmth of the sun on his chest.

LOVERSMANTRA © 2024, all rights reserved. do not translate, crosspost, or copy. steal my work and i'll steal your kneecaps. bitch.

[tomriddleslove]

Obliviate.

✩ Mattheo Riddle x Reader angst

Summary: The one where tensions are running higher, and everyone has to pick a side. You promised to stick by one another, but a stupid oath you made when you first met threatens to drive that apart. Alternatively: If you love her, then you have to let her go.

A/N: If you don’t listen to the recommended song when reading this i will fight you 🤺🤺

Song: Goodbye - Billie Eilish

The Daily Prophet

Unrest Brews as Dark Forces Loom

By Rita Skeeter

In a disturbing turn of events, Diagon Alley was rocked by an unprecedented attack last night, sending shockwaves throughout the wizarding community. Witnesses reported seeing a group of hooded figures, suspected to be Death Eaters, descending upon the famous magical thoroughfare with malicious intent.

The Flourish and Blotts bookstore bore the brunt of the assault, with its windows shattered and shelves overturned. Several nearby shops, including Ollivanders Wand Shop and Eeylops Owl Emporium, also sustained significant damage.

"I've never seen anything like it," said Horace Slughorn, a retired Potions Master who happened to be in the area during the attack. "It was pure pandemonium. People were running for cover, spells flying everywhere. It was like a scene out of the darkest days of the last wizarding war."

Ministry of Magic officials were quick to respond to the scene, deploying Aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol to contain the situation. However, the attackers managed to evade capture, leaving behind a trail of destruction and instilling fear in the hearts of many.

The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, condemned the attack in the strongest terms, vowing to apprehend those responsible and bring them to justice.

"We will not tolerate such brazen acts of violence in our society," Minister Shacklebolt declared in a statement issued this morning. "The Ministry is fully committed to ensuring the safety and security of all witches and wizards, and we will spare no effort in our pursuit of these criminals."

The attack on Diagon Alley serves as a grim reminder of the growing threat posed by Voldemort's followers, who have been emboldened in recent months by reports of their dark lord's rumoured return. With tensions running high and fear gripping the wizarding world, many are left wondering what the future holds in this time of uncertainty.

You frown as you observe Mattheo, watching as he tosses the paper down onto the table in front of you with a huff. The tension in his face has become increasingly evident over the past few weeks, and you've begun to forget what Mattheo looks like when he isn't frowning.

You wrap your arms around his arm, leaning in close to him as you speak quietly.

“Hey. It’s alright,” You reassure, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from the fireplace, a small huff of both frustration and amusement escaping his lips as he clenches his jaw, nodding.

“It’s alright.” He scoffs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

It’s alright? No, it wasn’t alright. His father was a murderous lunatic who was about to trigger the second wizarding war. He had to sit back and watch his own friend get tortured for hours for failing to complete a task. He can't close his eyes without seeing Theodore writhing in pain on the floor.

Mattheo was expected to fight with them. The time would come, that was for certain. Mattheo would have to stand there, and raise his wand against the people he's shared a dorm with and sat in class with.

Hell, he would be expected to raise his wand against you.

“They always say this, Mattheo. They’ve been saying it for years, and nothing has happened.” You say, but even you can see how pathetic it sounds. Despite your efforts to comfort him, it's clear that his mind is elsewhere, consumed by the looming threat of war and the impossible choices he may soon be forced to make.

Mattheo finally tears his gaze away from the fireplace, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath hitches, the sheer look of sorrow in his eyes enough to shatter your heart into a million little pieces.

"I don't want to drag you into this," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion. "You deserve better than to be caught up in my mess."

Your heart sinks as you realize where this conversation is headed. "Mattheo, please," you plead, the fear in your voice palpable, "don't do this. Don't shut me out."

But he shakes his head, his expression pained. "I have to," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Remember our promise?"

Mattheo looks up when he sees you sit next to him, a wide grin on your face as you unpack your bag.

He had seen you here and there in the common room. You always seemed to have an impossibly bright smile, far too lovely for the gloominess of Slytherin.

“Riddle.” You hum with a small grin, and he can't help but let a small smile tug at his lips as he looks over at you.

“What's wrong? You’re looking at me as though I’ve grown another head” You tease as you sit down next to him .

Mattheo blinks in surprise as you address him, the warmth of your smile catching him off guard. He's used to being treated with caution and apprehension, especially given his family's reputation and his own reserved demeanor. But your easy manner and genuine curiosity leave him feeling strangely disarmed.

"Nothing's wrong, just lost in thought, I suppose," he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watches you unpack your bag. Despite himself, he can't help but feel a sense of curiosity about you, wondering what it is that draws you to him when so many others keep their distance.

-•-

“Please-” Mattheo pleads in frustration, slamming the door shut behind him as he storms through the empty common room. You follow after him briskly, slamming the door that separates the common room from the dorms closed with a flick of your wand as you corner him.

“What do you mean, please?” You snap, frowning at him.

“Stop-” He says, his movements exasperated as he motions between the two of you “- this! Stop trying to be friends with me! It’s for your own good.” He says, looking up at you.

You let out a dry laugh, a mix of amusement and frustration as you shove him lightly.

“Oh fuck off. So you can kiss me and spend every evening with me but when it suits you we are just friends. You don't get to decide what’s good for me, Mattheo. I choose what I do and who I associate with, and if that hurts me then so fucking be it.” You retort harshly. Mattheo goes to interject but you cut him off.

“No! You don't get to choose when you want to be with me. I want you, Mattheo. All of you. I couldn’t give two flying shits about who your father is, or who you associate with. I'm capable of making my own decisions.”

He remains silent, his expression torn between turmoil and guilt, as your words hang heavy in the air between you. You feel slightly guilty for your outburst and your expression softens, reaching out to hold his hand gently as you speak.

"You know, if you really think it's that dangerous for me to be around you, you could always just obliviate me. Make me forget about you completely."You quip, trying to lighten the mood

For a moment, Mattheo's shock gives way to a burst of laughter, the tension in the room dissipating as he shakes his head in disbelief. "You're impossible," he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

-•-

You pull back from Mattheo, shaking your head. “No. No, that was a joke.” You stammer, but he turns to you.

“It wasn’t. We spoke about it afterwards. You promised me.” Mattheo says, sternly.

You know he’s right. You only agreed because the idea seemed so laughable. But now it was a reality, and you could see the hurt and disappointment in Mattheo's eyes.

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to find the right words, the weight of everything crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. "I love you, Mattheo," you say, more of a plea than anything else. He draws you into him, a strong arm wrapping around you tightly, as though he is scared to let you go. His hand cups the back of your head, pulling your head down to rest on his shoulder as he kisses the top of your head.

“I know. I love you too. That's why we have to.” He murmurs, trying his hardest to not let his voice break.

-•-

It’s not fair.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Mattheo had just found it. Found his reason for living. Found his reason to keep going when all the odds were stacked against him. You were the air he breathed, the light that lit his life up and the tender hand that soothed him. You were his everything, and you had to be snatched away from him.

He gently raps on the door to your dorm, just to let you know he was about to enter before cracking the door open. You hastily scramble, shoving the book you were writing with under your pillow as you spot Mattheo.

He notices but he doesn't say a thing, no, he can't. Because in a few minutes, it would be as though he never existed to you. He couldn't tell what would have hurt more, you not being able to see him, or you not even knowing who he was. You’d hold his heart in your hands, unknowingly, and he would be nothing but a stranger.

“Not in here, Please, not in here.” You breathe out, your words hitching in your throat as you fight back tears. He nods wordlessly, taking a step back.

“No one’s in the common room. I’ll uh- go there.” He murmurs, his voice hollow and empty as he turns to leave, unable to bear the thought of facing you for what may be the last time.

As he makes his way down to the common room, every step heavier than the last, he can't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnaws at his insides. It's like a void, swallowing him whole and leaving nothing behind but a hollow shell of the person he used to be.

He finds a seat in the furthermost corner, where you both usually sat, facing the fireplace. He watches the embers crackle and dance, not even noticing your presence till you slide up into the seat next to him. He wants to avert his gaze when he sees the tears in your eyes, but instead, he reaches up.

His hands were shaking. Why were they shaking?

He wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

“My wand. Let me go uh-” He blurts , quickly getting up as he looks away. He blinks back tears as he hurries up the stairs. Instead of going up to his dorm, however, he sneaks into yours.

He walks over to your bed, pulling back your pillow. Sure enough, the small book you were so desperate to conceal from Mattheo was there. He looks around and then with a small huff, tucks it into his back pocket. He hurries back downstairs.

Returning to the common room, he sits back down next to you, his hand reaching out to gently intertwine with yours as you sit together in silence. For a while, you don't say anything. You fear that speaking will break this small bubble, where time has frozen and you can just enjoy your last moments together.

As Mattheo gently cups your face, his touch trembling with the weight of what's to come, he feels the soft dampness of your tears against his fingertips. Your eyes, filled with sorrow and pleading, search his for some semblance of reassurance, some sign that this isn't the end.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart breaking with every word. "I can't lose you. You mean everything to me. I’m so scared"

Your sobs fill the air around you, the sound like a knife to Mattheo's heart as he struggles to hold back his own tears. He leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender, bittersweet kiss, savouring the taste of your lips one last time before it's all gone.

“I love you.” Is all you can muster. It’s pathetic, but it hurts to even think about anything.

You cling to him desperately, your fingers tangling in his hair as though trying to anchor yourself to the present. Mattheo feels a lump form in his throat, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket, but he knows that he has to do this. For your own safety, for your own sake, he has to let you go.

His forehead presses against yours, taking in every last moment of intimacy he’s granted. You don't open your eyes, and he's grateful, for he doesn't think he could bear to look you in the eye.

“Obliviate.”

The second after he murmurs the words he stumbles away from you, reeling backwards as though your touch has burnt him. You wouldn't remember a thing about him, not even his name. He couldn’t be close to you anymore.

Mattheo watches as you blink, confusion clouding your features as you try to make sense of your surroundings. You look around the room, your eyes scanning the familiar surroundings with a sense of bewilderment, and for a moment, Mattheo's heart clenches with the hope that maybe, just maybe, you'll remember him. But deep down, he knows that it's futile, that the spell has already taken effect, erasing every trace of him from your mind.

You shake your head slightly, as if trying to clear the fog from your thoughts, before turning and heading up to your bed. Mattheo watches you go, his heart breaking with every step you take away from him, knowing that he can never follow.

But then, just as you reach the top of the stairs, you pause, your gaze flickering back to where Mattheo stands in the corner of the room. And in that moment, you give him a small, absentminded smile, the kind of smile you might give to a passing stranger.

Mattheo's heart lurches in his chest at the sight of your smile. He wants to call out to you, to tell you who he is, to beg you to remember him, but he knows that it's pointless. You're gone, lost to him forever, and there's nothing he can do to change that.

As you disappear, he collapses down onto the sofa, He wants to sob, and for a second he thinks he is, a horrible restictive choking feeling in his throat as he looks down at the floor. He reaches into his pocket, fingers fumbling with the small black book, perhaps the last piece of you he’d truly have.

He finds the most recent entry and wipes away the tears that blur his vision as he begins to read.

Don't be alarmed when you see this. I want you to read every word of this carefully. This is you, that is writing. It is the 26th of June, 1996. You might have felt like you’ve woken up in the common room, feeling a bit disoriented.

You were obliviated. And it was your idea.

When you were that annoying, pestering little kid, you had taken it upon yourself to befriend a boy called Mattheo Riddle. You’ll see him over the next few days, perhaps. He might look at you as though it hurts him to. It most definitely does. He’s devastatingly handsome, with the softest brown curls and the most expressive eyes. I do believe you won't need me to describe him. Really, my love for him is so strong I doubt any sort of obliviate can erase the idea that Mattheo Riddle lives within the recesses of your heart. Everyone had warned you of how dangerous he was, how his father was rumoured to be the Dark Lord and that he was bound to be no good. But you, in your true Slytherin ambition, set out on a mission to befriend him.

And you fell in love. It was impossible not to, really.

He is everything to me. He was everything to you. He is the most brilliant boy I’ve known. Far too many people gave up on him early. He’s beyond just being incredibly intelligent. He feels. And that’s rarer than you might believe. For someone who was subjected to such horrible things growing up, he is tender. Do not let his bruised knuckles and split lips fool you.

Now, more than ever, he will struggle. He believes you are fully not aware of him. But with this, I hope you are.

Be there for him. Do not tell him about this. You were awfully good at forcing your way into people's lives. Do that for him now. Make him think it was a coincidence. Be there for him, and don’t let his stubbornness fool you. Merlin knows he will be stubborn. He is simply scared, and you mustn’t let that deter you.

People will often compare their lovers to the sun. Bright, warm, near perfect. Mattheo is the moon, casting a gentle glow in the darkness, guiding you through the night. He may not shine as brightly as the sun, but his presence is no less mesmerizing, no less essential.

You had always preferred the moon more, anyway.

Take care of him.

You stupid girl. You stupid, selfish girl.

Mattheo's hands tremble as he reads the letter, his heart constricting with every word, every line. It's like a knife to his heart, the pain of knowing that even in a situation like this, you still found a way to look after him, to care for him, to love him.

Tears blur his vision as he reads on, each word cutting deeper than the last. The book, filled with pages of recollections of the time they spent together, feels like a cruel reminder of everything he's lost, everything he can never get back.You had nearly filled the whole book, addressed to yourself with worries and letters in the hopes of getting your obliviated mind to fall back in love with Mattheo. To remember him, and to negate the whole idea of obliviating yourself by leaving this book for your future self.

And you did all of this just because you wanted to look after him.

It hurts to breathe, to even entertain the idea of going to bed tonight knowing that the love of his life sees him as nothing but a stranger. And in his hands, he holds the thing that could do the impossible, that could somehow reverse it all.

The very selfish part of him wants you to see the book. He wants to slip upstairs, and hide it back under your pillow, and let you find the words you addressed to yourself.

But he couldn’t. He could die far more happily knowing he’s not leaving you behind, no. Really, you were never his, the two of you forcing destiny in the opposite direction, living on borrowed time. Now he has to face the consequences of it all, and if he can stop you bearing the brunt of it, then he’s made no mistake.

He places the book down on the table, and doesn’t think twice about his actions.

“Incendio.”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hi, how are you? Hope everything's peachy. I've been waiting for your requests to be open since probably December. I figured, maybe I could leave you my thoughts and you'll decide what to do with them. Is that fine? 😅 You can throw it straight to the trash if you'd like.

So that now every F1 Team have a girl driver in F1 Academy, I thought maybe they want to promote the Academy more and includes it in DTS series. So the reader is a driver for Ferrari. They assign her to Carlos and they've to film a Training camp before the season. Carlos sort of being her PT. Plot twist: they HATE each other. But their combined fury can easily catch on fire and lead them to other type of sport, more sensual one. So it's like enemies but/to lovers sort of thing. A lot of arguing, angst but also a bunch of steamy sex

The Uphill Battle || CS55

Warnings: Smut, angst, name calling WC: 1.8k

Pre-season Training - Dolomites This had to be the worst PR disaster in the making. Whoever thought it would be a great idea to pair you up with Jr Sainz needed to fall right off this mountainside. To make matters worse, they had a TV crew following you around all day and you were fairly sure your suite was bugged like Big Brother.

“Hurry up, I want to make it back in time for dinner,” Carlos growled as he stopped to look back at you. 

You narrowed your eyes, not that he could see them beneath the snow goggles, and sarcastically replied, “Oh no, baby boy can’t go to bed without his supper.”

He stabbed his sticks into the snow and pulled his googles up over his beanie. “You think I want to be out here babysitting a spoiled little brat? I am crawling just so you don’t get left behind and lost up here. Pick. Up. The. Pace.”

“Fuck you,” you spat as you pushed harder, your calves protesting the hardship you were putting them through to prove a point. You overtook the Spaniard and made sure to only just miss his foot from the piercing pike on your ski stick. “Keep up, Junior.”

You were both panting by the time you arrived back at the luxury accommodation in the resort town at the base of the mountain. You were starving but you were also damp with sweat beneath the layers of cashmere and feather-stuffed coats so you went straight to the private pool. You figured after the whining Carlos had done about his dinner you wouldn’t be disturbed in the heated outdoor pool, but you were wrong.

Carlos curled a brow at the trail of clothes that led from the twin penthouse suites to the rooftop pool they shared, each layer getting thinner until it ended with a sports bra and panties. Snow littered the ground and he shivered in his bathrobe as he watched you float on the surface of the steaming water with your eyes closed. You looked relaxed, peaceful. It was a look he rarely saw on your face and it immediately washed away when you opened your eyes and caught him watching.

“Dirty perv,” you hissed as you slipped back beneath the water up to your neck and covered your breasts. 

“I’m not the one going for a skinny dip. You’re just looking for attention.”

“I don’t have to look for attention, it comes looking for me,” you said as you eyed up the goosebumps on his legs below the robe. “I figured you were too busy stuffing your face.”

“The Netflix crew were in the dining hall,” he admitted quietly.

“Ah, so you are not nearly as comfortable in front of them as you act. Could have fooled me.”

“I don’t think that would be hard.”

“I hope your balls get frostbite.”

Carlos winced at the idea and took a step closer to the water's edge and the warmth it promised. 

“If you get in here with me we are going to have a problem,” you warned, swimming closer to defend your territory. “There’s no cameras around to keep you safe.”

Carlo snickered and dipped his foot in. “I’ve seen your training in the ring, I think I can handle it.”

“Brave words when you are all the way over there.”

Your blood could have heated the water to boiling point as he slipped his robe off and tossed it over the rail before taking another step in, then another. You watched the water disappear over his skin tight trunks and darken the happy trail before rising over his abs. The team at Ferrari at least assigned you someone who was taking their PT position seriously, you could see from his physique that he kept his own routine solid and you could learn a thing or two - if he wasn’t such an asshole.

“Take a picture, malcriada,” he said with a wink when your eyes finally reached his face.

“Such a shame,” you murmured wistfully.

“What?”

You dragged your eyes back over his body before sighing. “That a body that fine has a personality like yours.”

A wave splashed over you as he dove into the water and you lost sight of him in the dark. You should have put the underwater lights on but hadn’t wanted to light the water up when you hadn’t bothered to even change into a bikini. 

A large hand grabbed your ankle and you barely had time to inhale a breath before you were pulled under. Just as quickly as he grabbed you, he was gone again and you spluttered to the surface, wiping the water from your eyes. “Asshole!” 

“Is that the best you can do?” he laughed from the edge he was leisurely reclining against. 

“Come here and find out.”

He slipped beneath the water but this time you were prepared and met him halfway. Your bodies collided, twisting and turning trying to fathom some kind of dominance until your legs wrapped around his waist and he sank to the bottom with you on top. His hands found your thighs and dug into the soft skin until your lips parted with a sudden thought and the last of your air bubbled to the surface. 

“Not the attack I was expecting,” he taunted as he rose to the surface behind you. The water falling from his hair cooled as it dropped to your shoulder and his hand traced the curve of your neck. “Someone plays dirty.”

“I’m not playing.” Your voice wasn’t the cold detached sound you had hoped it would be, but a needy sigh. Your legs pressed together and you were suddenly reminded of how very naked you were. 

“Is that another invitation? You almost won that time.”

You turned around with a glare to find his smirk growing as wide as his pupils as he looked down at your body. “It’s not a fair fight anyway. I am naked and vulnerable.”

He chuckled at that. “I don’t think anyone could mistake you as vulnerable, malcriada, not with that prickly attitude and sharp tongue. But, if it would make you feel better about losing again…” his hands brushed over his hips and pushed his trunks down his thighs before he tossed them out of the pool. “Happy now?”

“I’m certainly something,” you murmured before realising you spoke aloud. Anger flushed your body again at the distraction he caused and you shoved your hand across the surface, spraying him in the face with the water. His momentary surprise was only that, momentary, and he leapt into your personal space with his own attack.

You weren’t quite sure how it happened, or how it started. Maybe the tension that had been brimming all week finally reached its breaking point and it was a mutual decision. One moment you were writhing to escape from his attack, your hands trying to find purchase on his body as you wriggled in his arms, the next you were writhing for an entirely different reason. 

His chest brushed over your sensitive peaks and your nails scraped down his back. Your legs tightened around his waist and felt the large length pressed between your stomachs. Your heads broke the surface but the gasp had nothing to do with the need for air when his palms squeezed your ass to hold you still. 

“What are you doing?” you moaned as you clit pressed to his shaft and every little movement rode you over the rigid veins. 

“I’m not doing anything,” he rasped, his voice dropping as he felt the heat of your core on him. “I’m trying to not fuck you right now.”

“Right, because you hate me,” you laughed humorlessly as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp but you both moaned at the feeling.

“No, because you hate me.”

It had been a while since you last had sex, that was the excuse you gave for being so needy and wanting to be filled right at that moment. “I can hate you and still want to fuck.”

Carlos stared into your eyes and saw the desire in them, felt the desire that had your nipples hard and begging for his mouth. “Fuck it,” he decided aloud. “I can hate you and still make you come.”

“Bold words.”

He didn’t give you a response, at least not in words. His strong hands lifted you higher and pulled you back down on his cock. Your teeth clamped around the muscle where his shoulder met his neck and he groaned at the pain and your muffled cry. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

“You’re too big,” you whispered as he slowly speared you down his shaft until you looked down your body expecting to see a bugle at your belly button. Easing you back up, he set a slow rhythm as your body adjusted to his size and walked you both to the edge of the pool.

“You can take it,” he promised as your legs untangled from around him and you found yourself facing the mountain you had climbed earlier. His hips snapped forward and buried himself back in you from behind and your cry echoed out into the night. “That’s it, make an avalanche, malcriada.”

You didn’t care that he called you brat. You didn’t care if you brought the mountain down on the whole town. You only cared about reaching your own high and you chased it with your hips, pushing back to meet him stroke for stroke. Waves rippled out across the water and soon turned to splashes as your core tightened and those ripples began to make their way down your spine.

“I can feel you shaking,” he teased in your ear, his hand snaking over your hip to find your clit. “Let go, dulce, let me feel you come.”

Your eyes slammed shut as waves of pleasure rocked through you and his name tumbled from your lips, betraying yourself with the reverent tone it held. His pleasure grew at the sound and he slammed himself as deep as he could in your cunt, letting your tight walls milk him as he came. There should have been anger at the idea of being filled with his seed, but you took delight in the liquid warmth pooling inside you. You had made him come undone, it was a win of sorts in your mind.

Satisfied for the moment, you pushed his body back and walked up the steps, into the biting cold night. Carlos was still high from his release and he didn't realise until it was too late. You were already halfway to the suites when he noticed his robe was missing, a quick scan of the snow confirmed his trunks had found the same fate.

“Brat!” he called out as you disappeared inside.

“Asshole.”

Click here for part two.