#he gave him his NAME he gave him his JACKET

[broodybuck]

Title: The Boy Next Door

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, childhood friends, neighbors, pining, confessions, friends to lovers, first crush

Summary: Growing up, you always had a crush on the boy next door. Now, twelve years later, you might unexpectedly get your chance with Bucky Barnes.

[ao3 link]

Your parents just handed over the house you grew up in. It was that easy, now it's yours.

They want to be those typical, retired parents and move to Florida — boring! And since you've been renting a studio in Brooklyn for the past four years, you jumped at the chance to have a three-bedroom house in upstate New York. It's already paid off and your parents are wealthy enough, they don't need the earnings for their Florida condo.

You've only been back to your childhood home for holidays in the past few years. Everything has stayed the same, your parents were actually one of the few who didn't turn their daughter's bedroom into a home office or gym. They left the pink wallpaper, the twin bed with the floral comforter, and the tower of stuffed animals on the dresser.

When you arrive with your two suitcases and some extra cash in your pocket since you sold all your studio furniture, you stare up at the house. You smile from the warm memories before you glance over at the house next door.

An older boy named James lived there, but he always went by Bucky. Bucky Barnes is the name that lived in your diary for most of your adolescence. He was four years older than you which meant you had an embarrassing crush on him since you were twelve. He was nice, he always teased you when you saw each other, he even acknowledged your existence for the one year you were both in high school together — you as a freshman and him a senior.

That did wonders for your reputation, you became pretty popular even after he graduated. Still, you would've thrown away all the friends and parties for just one night with Bucky if that was a possibility.

You're not sure you ever got over your crush, more just accepted that it was never going to happen and moved on with your life. It was easy once he went away from college and three years later so did you. You never ran into him again even when you were visiting home for the holidays. It seems the Barnes' residence spent their holidays elsewhere as the house was always dark on those occasions.

Currently, it's two in the afternoon and the sun is beating down so strongly, you start to take off your jean jacket. You're sliding your arms out of the sleeves when a familiar voice makes you jump.

"Hey, y/n."

Your arms flap uncoordinatedly, still half in the jacket, pausing in an awkward position as you turn to see your childhood crush standing a few feet away from you. Bucky Barnes, looking sexier than ever.

"Oh, hi,” you splutter.

This man still has the ability to make you blush like a schoolgirl. You do some quick mental math and realize if you’re 27 now then he must be 31. And why do men age so spectacularly? He has somehow managed to become even more attractive in the last twelve years.

"What're you doing here?" you ask as you finally free your arms from the jacket.

"I'm house-sitting," Bucky explains. "What're you doing here?"

"Um, well, the house is sorta mine now."

"Parents gave you the whole thing?"

"Yep, the whole thing," you nod.

"Wow, congrats on the house," Bucky says.

"Thank you," you reply and you both stare at each other in a beat of silence.

"Um actually, since you're around, do you think I could pay you for some manual labor?" you ask suddenly.

"What kind?" Bucky grins fast. It truly takes your breath away, jesus this man should not be allowed to smile.

"I have a dumpster coming tomorrow morning," you explain. "I'm getting rid of my childhood bedroom furniture."

"Yeah, I can help."

"That would be so great, I'll pay you—"

"Don't sweat it. Just treat me to dinner sometime," Bucky shrugs, and your stomach drops. What in the world does he mean by that... like a dinner date?

"Oh, dinner... yeah, okay. You got it," you play it cool and awkward.

He smiles at you, amused.

"Anyway..." you mumble unsure how to retract yourself from this conversation, unsure if you even want to.

"You really grew up, huh?" Bucky says, and he scans you up and down.

"I guess so," you shrug, your face burning. "You too."

"Yeah, guess we haven't seen each other in..."

He appears to be trying to calculate the years but you unabashedly jump in with an exact answer.

"Twelve years."

"Has it been that long?" he asks.

"I... think so," you feign uncertainty.

"So, what time do you need me tomorrow?" he asks.

"Oh, anytime that works for you."

"How about noon?"

"Perfect."

Asking for Bucky's help might've been the worst idea you ever had. When he comes over, he's wearing a cotton-white t-shirt and jeans. His hair is damp and slicked back from a shower. He looks so comfy, it makes you imagine waking up with him. You yearn to know how warm his skin feels fresh from the steam.

You ignore your inappropriate desires and lead him up the stairs to your old room. It's then you realize how many years of your life you desperately wanted to show him your room. Have your crush see these walls, sit on your bed, and make out with you next to your teddy bear.

It's embarrassing but probably every teenage girl wanted the same thing. Unfortunately, the thought slips out of you with a laugh.

"I always wanted to show you my room."

You freeze in the doorway, realizing what you've just said out loud.

"What?" Bucky asks from behind you.

"When I was younger, I meant. I didn't mean... I don't know why I said that, actually."

You turn around and see the look of amused confusion on his face, a small smirk inching from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, fuck it. I had a major crush on you," you confess.

Bucky's eyebrows lift high.

"Yeah?"

"You couldn't tell?"

"I thought you were just awkward with everyone," he shrugs.

"Great, so you thought I was a total loser," you sigh.

"No..." he says quickly but takes a second to elaborate. "If it helps, I didn't think about you that way 'cause you were too young for me."

"Of course, you never thought about me," you brush off, trying not to let your younger self die too much inside.

You step into the room to create any amount of space from this conversation. But you instantly remember the countless hours you spent in here thinking about him. Staring out the window at his family's house hoping the catch a glimpse of him.

"Hey," Bucky says. His hand gently touches your shoulder.

You turn around to meet his eyes which oddly look darker, more intense now.

"I could see myself thinking about you now," he admits low.

You blink, your mouth is suddenly too dry to respond.

"I mean... look at you," he says so fondly that your heart could burst. And he looks you over again, his pupils dilating even more.

Is this really happening, you think.

His right hand hasn't moved from your shoulder. Boldly, you place a hand on his left forearm and you're right, his skin is still warm from the shower.

You breathe in sharply because just touching him, just standing this close for this long is something you were never lucky enough to get back then.

His eyes are still locked with yours and it's honestly so intense you can't look away even as you see him dip his head, lowering slowly to your lips. He waits, an inch from them, to see if this is okay. Of course, it's fucking okay.

You surge the last inch forward and kiss him harder than you anticipate. He stumbles a step back, in consequence grabbing onto your waist, and pushing forward. He walks you back toward the twin bed up against the wall.

When you fall back onto the mattress, it creaks from old age, but you couldn't care less. Because Bucky Barnes, your childhood crush, the extremely attractive neighbor next door, is crawling over you. And it's glorious, it's enough to make you arch up into him and moan.

He lets out a breathy laugh and then kisses you, his knee slides between your legs and presses down. You moan even louder. You're completely shameless, you are, but this is Bucky Barnes. You're not staying quiet for a second of this.

His mouth moves to your ear and he's kissing down your neck while his fingers slip under your shirt, rolling it up.

Your shirt is off and then you're pants are coming off too. You want to get him out of his clothes but his mouth finds the front of your panties and he's teasing you, mouthing at the fabric.

"Please," you whine.

He grins against your underwear and then slides the thin fabric off and sucks his thumb into his mouth.

When he touches you, he's not gentle. He goes right in and rubs your clit roughly but you're so turned on that it's like a jolt of electricity to your body, you leap up from the mattress.

He licks two fingers then and sinks them right inside you. Oh god, it's so easy because you're so wet.

"Fuck," he mutters, realizing this. He stares down, watching his fingers work inside you. Your skin boils endlessly.

He doesn't need to spend much time working you open and he must know that because it's not long before he pulls his fingers out and hurriedly works the button of his jeans open. He pulls open the fly and pushes them down when you sit up to get his shirt. You're not letting this happen without seeing that gorgeous chest again.

You remember so many summer nights when you got a glimpse of Bucky shirtless. Running through the sprinkles or coming home from a neighbor's pool. He was stunning, even back then, but now... oh lord, now he's filled out. He has a firm, thick chest and a set of perfect abs lining his torso. Because of course, he has a six-pack, you always fall for the most unattainable guys.

But somehow you have him, right here, in your very old, tiny twin bed.

You want to lick a long strip from his navel up to his neck but he doesn't give you the chance. Once his clothes are off, he pulls your legs over his waist and pushes inside you so fast you barely have time to prepare. You cling to him with your whole body, legs and arms. And you moan low.

"Oh god, you're so tight," he husks.

You tighten your hold around his neck, he looks up at you and kisses you. You're basically on his lap so start rolling your hips slowly, getting used to how big he feels inside you.

You push him back until he lies down. And then you're riding him. You're riding Bucky Barnes in your childhood bedroom on top of your pink comforter with yellow flowers.

This is your teenage dream come true and that realization plows through you, making you ride him even harder, snapping your hips as fast as you can over his cock. And it's enough that you get a moan out of him, a low gravelly groan that you immediately fawn over.

His fingertips dig into your skin as you keep riding him fast and hard. You know you're nearing the edge, your head falls with a whimper, you grip his shoulders tighter.

"Fuck, y/n. Come for me," he breathes.

And you lose all control the moment you hear that. Fuck, you come so hard.

"Oohhh, fuckkk," you wail and stop moving to let the orgasm crash through you.

Then his hands lift your ass, just enough so he can raise his hips and start fucking into you.

"Jesus," you hiss and scramble to hold onto him again.

He keeps fucking you, gaining speed and making your eyes roll back from the fact that your orgasm can't wane with his cock repeatedly slamming right into you.

He groans, squeezing the flesh on your ass now and you can tell he's close.

He curses under his breath and then he's coming and still fucking you so hard your vision's blurring.

When he finally slows down, he blows out a long breath. He releases his grip on your ass and closes his eyes, basking in the aftermath of his orgasm.

You can feel his cock twitch one last time inside you. You carefully try to pull off him. He winces as you do, still sensitive. You lean down and kiss him, you can't help yourself.

He smiles when you break to let him catch his breath. Okay, he's totally allowed to smile when he's naked in your bed, you decide. You admire the sight for as long as he lets you.

"Well, fuck," he laughs.

"Yeah, fuck," you agree, smiling. "Not sure if I should thank you for your help yet."

He laughs. "I haven't done anything yet."

"Oh, you've done plenty," you tease and plant another kiss on his lips.

He smirks at you and runs his hands up your sides, gentle and light.

"I'll help you move the furniture," he says. "Just give me a few minutes."

"Yeah, I need a few too," you say. "At least this bed is going out with a bang."

And you both laugh. Then you look at him and already remember what he said to you yesterday. You remember almost every word he's ever uttered to you.

"So, about that dinner," you say.

He smiles wide and just kisses you.

[temiizpalace]

☆┊SHOPPING SPREE!

SUMMARY: finally having a day off and permission to leave the campus, you take your beloved boyfriend to the mall! where does he like to shop?

CHARACTERS: all dorms

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: none

NOTES: IM STILL WORKING ON EVEN REQUESTS I PROMISE! this is a brain kickstarter yk

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

SPORT STORES

as soon as you walked into the doors of the mall, his eyes dart towards the sporting goods store. he’ll go where you want to go, but give him like ten seconds pretty please? just a peek at the sportswear! in order to stay fit and look continuously good for you, this is a mandatory stop. and as expected, he looked at running shoes, windbreaker jackets, sports balls (don’t be immature) ((i am immature and did that on purpose)), water bottles, everything. he bought matching sports gear for the two of you so you can work out together! don’t worry, don’t worry, it won’t be too difficult. now, where did you want to go? holding your shopping bags adds to his workout so please don’t hold back. shop to your hearts content.

deuce, jack, epel, silver, sebek

CLOTHING STORES

knowing that you wanted to go to the mall opened a gateway of opportunity for him. what you may ask? well, malls have clothing stores. this means not only can he buy outfits for himself, he can also buy outfits for you! if you’re comfortable with that of course. if you are comfortable with that, he’s giddily going through clothing racks, presenting you an outfit that has a balanced mix of both your own and his style. Seeing you wear the outfit was just breathtaking, he could cry. if you didn’t feel comfortable with him picking your outfits, please pick his. he’ll wear whatever you buy! to him, it doesn’t matter. there was something just so intimate buying outfits for each other.. (along with other purchases, you guys bought cheesy matching couple shirts)

ace, cater, jade, kalim, rook, malleus

DESIGNER BRANDS

he immediately walked towards the expensive side of the store and almost gave you a heart attack. like ??? hello?? you forget he’s rich sometimes. he doesn’t mind paying for you, that’s actually the least of his worries. stop being shy and just take the damn card. he’ll cover everything so go enjoy yourself. he just so casually purchases expensive jewelry likes it’s nothing, baffling you to see how nonchalant he is about his money. he bought you such an extensive wardrobe. designer shirts, pants, shoes, you name it and he’s got it. he takes pride in the fact he can buy such expensive things for you because you get to rely on him. not in a controlling way, but in a way to let you know you’re not alone and he’s here to help. so anyways here’s a $80,000 thaumark sunglasses kit.

leona, azul (lowkey cried looking at his budget), kalim, vil, malleus

ALT/POP-CULTURE STORES* (??)

skips all the clothing stores and designer stores and walks straight into hot topic (or stores similar). look, this is his kinda store. judge all you want (please don’t) but he’s going inside to purchase whatever the flip he wants. oh my gosh, something even slightly tying to his interest? purchase. something slightly tying to your interest? yes he’ll take the entire stock. wanted to get you anything and everything. he bought tons of shirts and stuff for you guys to share and trade so spoiler alert but next sleepovers gonna be pretty crazy. he thinks it’s cool to see you talk about stuff you like, so taking you to a store that has pretty much everything you’ve ever watched? you’ll be rambling for hours! he’s all in! of course, he’ll get his own fair share in. thank god you don’t think he’s a weirdo tho.

cater, jade, idia, lilia, malleus

ANYWHERE YOU GO

he’s down for literally anything. take him anywhere and he’ll be happy. this gentlemen carries all of your bags for you and takes you wherever you wish to go. clothing store? you’ll look good in anything. let’s go. sports store? always good to stay active. let’s go. designer brands? you’ll look stunning. just overall he’s happy so long as your happy, the location won’t matter much to him. even if you offer for him to decide, he respectfully declines and encourages you to pick another spot. he just loves you!!

riddle, floyd, kalim, jamil, rook, ortho, lilia

STRAIGHT TO THE FOOD COURT

as soon as he smelt the aroma of food in the air, he’s gone. he made a straight beeline towards the food court and intends to stay the course. shopping can wait, he needs to eat. he must admit it’s not as good as the food at nrc, but it’s wayyy better than nothing. he must build energy, who knows how long he’ll be inside that mall! fast food can only be so good for so long, so now he’s slowly regretting not going into an actual restaurant but he already paid so he’ll suck it up. after he finishes eating tho, you’re free to go wherever you please. just give him a breather he ate too much.

trey, ruggeie, azul, jade, epel, lilia

A/N: this is ASS

date published: 9/24/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[syndrossi]

And now for a continuation of what I'm calling the Rescue AU aka "what if Ser Thoren successfully extracted the boys from the Gates of the Moon?" Part 1 and premise can be found here. It ended pretty abruptly, and so we pick up pretty abruptly! This one has a more proper "end" to it, though it's not finished.

x~x~x

“May we go to the market on River Row?” Rhaegar asked. He seemed to pick up on Daemon’s surprise at the request, adding, “Laenor mentioned it before. He said they have all manner of wares from within the realm, and even from across the Narrow Sea.”

“We may,” Daemon said, warmed by the pleased smile he received in response. “Do you seek anything in particular?”

He had presented them with gifts for three of their name days thus far, but that still left five. And some of his other planned gifts would not be ready for months. Any insight into what his children enjoyed was sorely welcome. They spent so little time at play, too serious about their studies.

“Princess Rhaenyra said that your name day is in less than three moons,” Rhaegar said, smile turning stern. “So you must not look if we choose something for you.”

Daemon had not celebrated his name day in nearly a decade, other than alone with Caraxes and one of the few barrels of good wine that made it on occasion to the Stepstones by way of Driftmark. His last true celebration had been a pleasant supper with Viserys, Aemma, and Rhaenyra, followed by a drunken night of debauchery in Flea Bottom that had earned his brother’s disapproval in the morning upon hearing of it.

It had been only two moons after Viserys had quietly taken him aside and “suggested” that he take Lord Beesbury as an advisor in his yet-new position of master of coin. Daemon had known the true source of the suggestion: Otto Hightower. Daemon had been only three moons in the office and still learning its scope; bringing in the former master of coin to all but do his job for him had been clearly intended to undermine him by implying he could not manage on his own.

That was the one office Daemon had resigned from before his brother could directly dismiss him, as he made a habit of. That had been before he’d realized just how short his leash would be for any office while Otto Hightower whispered in his ear simultaneously of Daemon’s immaturity and ambition.

A hand squeezed his, jolting him from his thoughts. “Father?” It was Rhaegar’s voice, gentle with concern, rather than stilted as it could sometimes be when addressing him.

Daemon smoothed wisps of light hair from his son’s forehead, then rested his hands on either cheek, heart a jumbled mess between the sentiment and the barest trace of wariness that lurked in his eyes whenever Daemon behaved in a way he did not expect. He kissed his brow, vowing that one day Rhaegar would come to expect only love at the hands of family, rather than the cold indifference—or worse—he had suffered under the Royce household.

“You can give me no greater gift than your company that day,” he said, transferring a hand to Jon’s cheek as well.

Jon gave a solemn nod. “But if I wrap Rhaegar to leave outside your door, who will wrap me?”

Daemon nearly choked on his laugh, the humor entirely unexpected. His eldest was quite sneaky in that regard, though both had a similarly clever wit. He feared for whoever might earn their wrath once they reached adolescence.

“Would you like a small purse apiece for the market, then?” he asked. “So that you are spared solving such a riddle?”

“There is no need,” Rhaegar said, revealing a bulging purse beneath his jacket. “Uncle Viserys gave us an allowance for it.”

“That was very generous of him,” Daemon said, smiling to mask a sudden flood of resentment at the reminder that nothing that he had to offer them was his own. It was all through Viserys and the royal treasury. He had no holding of his own to build an income, nor would he.

Curious stares followed them through the streets, news of the strange circumstances of his sons’ birth having traveled beyond the court. Laenor had informed him with great enthusiasm that a troupe of mummers were at work on a new play with a working title of “The Hidden Princes and the Witch of Runestone.”

If his sons were uneasy with the attention, they did not show it, more fascinated by the sights and sounds of the city. I should have taken them out sooner, Daemon thought fondly. There was a minstrel at one corner, playing the lute outside of a tavern to lure travelers in, and Rhaegar’s head tilted a moment, listening, before his eyes brightened. He hurried over, Daemon and Jon a few steps behind, and joined the minstrel in his song, his higher pitch shifting into an effortless harmony.

The minstrel looked startled by the sudden accompaniment, and even perhaps dismayed to find himself outperformed by a small child, but his eyes took in Daemon as he approached, and the princely attire his sons were wearing—as well as the growing crowd, drawn by the unusual spectacle as well as the sweetness of the song—and the man seemed to then accept the situation as one of good fortune.

Daemon smiled as he watched Rhaegar, enjoying his son’s obvious joy at an excuse to sing. The song was familiar to him, one of a wandering hedge knight in search of a maiden he had spied bathing in the moonlight and fallen in love with, but rendered nearly haunting with the addition of Rhaegar’s voice, which made it into a duet of man and maiden.

At the final verse, the minstrel made as though to bow, only for Rhaegar to continue on alone for another four, and the tale went from one of happy reunion to bittersweet loss as the maiden revealed the true reason she had evaded the hedge knight’s pursuit: the waters had told her that when she found love at last, they would have but a year before death claimed them.

There were very few dry eyes in the crowd at the song’s conclusion, and there was a light ache in his own throat, but the ending seemed to upset Jon in particular, so Daemon wrapped him up in his arms. “It is only a song.”

“If he had not gone after her, they both would have lived,” Jon said into his abdomen.

“Perhaps so,” Daemon murmured, stroking fingers through his hair as he pondered why the song had touched him so. Elys and Corwyn had died two years after the twins’ birth, and his sons had thought them their parents most of their lives. Rhea’s death was still fresh for them as well, he supposed. “But the life of a hedge knight is not without peril. Perhaps he would have found death another way.”

Jon frowned, not liking that response, and Daemon sighed, releasing him. “Come, let us collect your brother from his admirers.”

The minstrel was splitting his attention between collecting the shower of coin that had fallen at the song’s conclusion and interrogating his son on where he had heard the additional verses.

“From a harpist who wandered through the Gates of the Moon,” Rhaegar said, beginning to look uncomfortable.

Daemon quickly moved into the man’s view, fixing him with a look that halted further questioning.

“My prince,” the minstrel said, bowing with a flourish. “What an honor to have the privilege of sharing a song with your son.”

“Indeed,” Daemon said, beckoning Rhaegar back to his side. “I suggest you content yourself with your good fortune.”

“I am sorry,” Rhaegar said once they were away from the gathered crowd, flicking anxious glances in Daemon’s direction. “I did not mean to—”

“Nonsense,” Daemon said firmly. “You may sing whenever you like. You upstaged that minstrel and he knew it.”

Rhaegar moved to walk at Jon’s side, whispering something quiet to him—another apology, perhaps? Jon shrugged, the motion stiff, but he summoned a small smile in response. Fortunately, the distraction of River Row seemed to take their minds off the matter. The street stank of fish, and was awash in colorful stalls loudly peddling their goods.

They were not even at the market square yet, and he had to corral them back within reach several times with stern warnings of pickpockets and unsavory characters who grew in number as Aegon’s Hill grew more distant.

The chaos was nigh unmanageable by the time they reached the market. They still drew glances, Daemon’s hair and attire—and Dark Sister at his side—making his identity plain. But the people in the market were here for one of two purposes: to sell or be sold to. They kept their gawking to sideways glances for the most part, aside from one very bold hand that curiously reached for his hair before being swatted aside.

The strong scent of cooked meat and vegetables from the side of the market that served tempting dishes that could be held in one’s hand to eat while walking covered up the worst of the encroaching smell of raw fish and nearby sewage. There were sweeter fares as well, including a stall that spun sugar into elaborate shapes to cool and be sold.

The peddlers’ calls grew particularly loud whenever they were noticed, to the point where Jon was beginning to look overwhelmed. Daemon was not without his own tension. Every voice that carried an accent from the Free Cities, and especially the occasional spoken Valyrian, transported him back to the crush and throng of the Stepstones.

They eventually reached a portion of the market that was less frantic, where he was no longer touching four different bodies at once, and Daemon slowly relaxed. The boys went from stall to stall with Daemon looking on a few steps back, moving with them. Occasionally they would lean in for hushed discussion, dark hair against light, then turn to him in unison with appraising eyes before resuming their conversation.

Daemon had no idea what they would decide upon for gifts, but he was greatly looking forward to finding out what they had deemed worthy. They had found something at the present stall, which seemed to be an assortment of leather goods ranging from cow’s hide to more exotic sources.

Jon looked back toward him. “Turn around,” he ordered. “She has to finish making it and then wrapping it.”

Daemon gamely turned away. “Tell me when it is safe to look.”

He contented himself with scanning the rest of the current extension of the market, occasionally meeting the quickly averted gaze of an onlooker startled to be caught. That was nothing he wasn’t accustomed to when walking about openly, though years ago in Flea Bottom, the denizens had come to view his frequent presence among them as something to be expected. When he truly wished to walk about without fuss, he went cloaked and hooded.

A startled cry rang out back toward the portion of the market they had just left, and Daemon glanced that way to see that one of the food stalls had caught flame. He could make out the shouts for water, and a few nearby peddlers flapped with cloth at the fire, seeking to smother it. It seemed to only inflame it somehow, the fire almost dancing from one stall to another, which then caught.

Daemon recognized in the louder murmurs of the crowd the sound of unease yielding to panic, his own alarm growing with it. Panic was unpredictable, and the crowd would seek whatever outlet they thought offered safety, willing to trample whoever got in their way.

He turned back to the stall, ready to sweep his children up and leave before the chaos reached them, only to find the stall empty and his sons nowhere in view. His mind blanked with incomprehension for a moment, breath catching in his throat, and he closed the distance to the stall in an instant, looking around wildly. His sons were nowhere to be seen, but there was a woman’s body in rapidly pooling blood slumped at the other side of the stall.

No. Daemon’s hand closed around Dark Sister’s hilt, an icy fear flooding his veins. He took a deep breath to call for them, only to freeze at the sudden prick of something sharp and metal against his back.

“Quiet,” a voice said behind him, soft and unaccented. “Do you wish to see your sons?”

“Where are they?” Daemon asked, holding perfectly still. He might be quick enough to move before the man behind him sunk his blade in, but he did not know if there were more. There must be, to have taken his sons away. “What do you want?”

“If you do as I say, I shall take you to them. Fight, and you will never see them again.” The man waited, as though to see if he intended to put up a struggle. “Remove your hand from your blade.”

Daemon stared forward, paralyzed by indecision. He could mean to kill me anyway. This may be intended to buy time so that they may take the boys further out of reach.

But what could he—or they—even want? If it was ransom they sought, then the more captives, the better. If it was revenge, they would have killed his sons, and Daemon after.

“That dragon blood of yours is worth a great deal,” the voice said with a hint of impatience. “But only balanced against the trouble you might cause. Remove your hand.”

Ransom, then. Daemon clutched that hope to his chest and released his grip on Dark Sister. His hand was grabbed and twisted behind his back, firmly but not painfully so, and he was guided between stalls, out of view. Then, something smooth and rounded was pressed into his hand.

“Drink this.”

The shouts in the market square had grown louder, and the wind was beginning to blow smoke in their direction. Daemon had spotted the occasional gold cloak earlier, but there were none to be seen now, the men likely moving to seek control of the fire or the crowd. There were far more pressing things for the people milling about the market to pay attention to than a prince tucked just out of view, a blade to his back.

“What is it?” Daemon asked, though he could guess. If it was not poison, then it was something intended to dull the senses and render him easy to move without struggle.

“Drink,” the man repeated. “Or I spill that royal blood onto the cobblestone, which would be a shameful waste.”

Daemon brought the bottle into view, its milky glass obscuring its contents save for a faintly darker line where the liquid within sloshed. A tiny cork served as a stopper.

I cannot see them again if I am sliced open in River Row.

Ransom could be paid. Daemon knew that Viserys would not hesitate on his behalf or his sons’, whatever objections Otto might raise.

He brought the cork to his teeth, and pulled it loose, then tipped the liquid back. He held it in his mouth for a few seconds, debating whether he could feign swallowing, but a hand closed over his lips and pinched his nostrils shut until he swallowed, at which point it moved to grip his right arm again. The man made no move to lead him anywhere, seeming content to wait for the potion to take its effect.

“You have not hurt them?” Daemon asked, unable to keep the desperation from his voice.

“They are not harmed,” the man said with a hint of amusement. “Though I cannot say the same for some of the others. I did warn them about Jon.”

A dizziness rolled over Daemon, followed by a heaviness that came in waves that settled deeper each time. At last he was prodded forward, and it took all his concentration to put one foot ahead of the other. Then another. Then—

[prinzrupprecht]

When someone else gives you gifts

Featuring: Susano’o, Hades, Buddha, Poseidon ( part 2 )

I forgot Hades and swapped Anubis out. I had to take Loki out since this was gonna be too long. Part 3 will have Loki and Anubis in it.

TW: same as part 1. Some will be Yandere or possessive

Susano’o

You were another deity of the Shinto pantheon during ancient Japan. You found the sword god amusing and fascinating with the art of the sword to a point you wanted to get to know him more.

He was kind, silly, and serious when he had to be if demons were threatening humans, he would be there to stop them. He loved humans and that is what made you admire him more. He liked you as well and wanted your company during his travels as governor of the lands.

Being his, came with perks and cons. You were allowed to travel with him and be his support. The cons normally are the women who fawned over him when he killed monsters. You were jealous and insecure if he would leave you for a human but that wasn’t possible… was it? Could he sense your moods whenever they approach him?

You could tell how naive he was when they pretended to be interested in his sword. You quickly scurried off to find some fresh air but got lost in the village until you bumped into someone. “So— Sorry!” You bowed your head without seeing who you rammed into. It was a young man who waved his hand across their face. You shouldn’t be talking to him but guilt washes over you.

“Don’t be! You look incredibly cold wearing this. Here, here come inside.” He ushered you into his home which you tried to say you were fine and that you weren’t cold. It was a lie. You were cold and goosebumps were forming on your skin.

“It doesn’t appear that you’re fine.” He grabbed one of his extra long-sleeved jackets which were called a haori. He tried to give you it so you wouldn’t freeze. You tried to reject such things and remembered Susano’o telling you that humans care for one another. So it was common for them to help others.

After some time reluctantly rejecting the haori, you took it and thanked the man before putting it over your shoulders. Susano’o must be worried about you since you’ve been gone for some time. After rushing off with the plain haori over your shoulders.

You found him near a pond cleaning his sword. “Oh you’re back, I was going to find you— that is new.” He turned his head and stopped mid-sentence to admire the haori that you were wearing. You hugged your arms and this made Susano’o frown. You were cold?

“Sorry, someone gave it to me and said it’s to keep me warm,” you looked away with a slight blush forming on your cheeks.

He walked over to you and pulled you in his arms. “Oh? You could’ve asked me to heat you up if you were cold.” His arms were already wrapped around your body. He was thankful someone wanted to take care of you but he was there for that. He would take care of your needs. You were embarrassed but he was offering and you couldn’t say no to that.

Hades

Hades is an amazing king and you were his as he was yours. Ever since he saved you from multiple titans wreaking havoc in Helheim, you wanted to stay by his side forever. You constantly looked up to him. Helheim was in a terrible condition before he took over as a ruler and king. You were treated with respect and you showed him respect back.

You were in the library of Hades castle researching about demons that dwell in Helheim. Hades didn’t like you leaving the castle without him or one of the guards with you. Even though you were not weak and were strong yourself, he wanted to take extra precautions in case you ran into something stronger.

“Where is Hades?” A voice broke through the quiet room and an unfamiliar figure stood near the entrance. You looked up to see a young man with black hair who you’d assume was named Beelzebub. Hades told you about him.

Beelzebub was a strange man but you didn’t judge him nor wanted to get close to him. Hades warned you about him even told you his past and to not ever bring it up to him. He was someone to not trust at all.

“If he’s not here then he’s probably with his brothers,” you responded nonchalantly. The truth was he didn’t always tell you if he was leaving the castle for a bit. Beelzebub stood around for a brief moment before pulling something from his pocket.

“You’re researching devils?” He asked but before you could answer him, your eyes cautiously watched whatever he was doing. He was quiet and had ulterior motives. You didn’t respond and hoped he’d leave you alone. Yet what surprised you was the fact he put an ornament next to you. Or was it an amulet? It had a long chain to it and as you were going to ask him what it was, he had already turned to leave the room.

“I’d like to see how you can kill me next time we meet,” a smirk was dancing on his lips and he was already gone. You looked at the amulet and decided it would be best to ask Hades what it was. What a weird guy…

As time passed on as you waited for him to return you kept the amulet in your hand as a fidget toy. The door opened but you didn’t turn to look at who it was. “Waiting for me?” His voice made your head snap to see him dressed in his usual attire. He looked handsome as usual as you ran up to him. You didn’t realize you still had the chained object in your hand. Hades noticed right off the bat and immediately went to grab your hand and toss the amulet across the room.

“Beelzebub was looking for me was he?" Hades still held both of your wrists but he was more mad at himself for leaving you here alone. You slowly nodded but his expression changed to more of a serious one. Beelzebub was a cunning man with his experiments.

Hades would be dammed if something happened to you and if you were a target to Beelzebub’s sick games, he would put an end to that man. There would’ve been a reason why he gave you such a deadly weapon and he didn’t want to say what it was. He was just glad you were safe and now knows to take you with him the next time he has to leave the castle.

Buddha

He’s normally the one to offer you stuff— treats, food, and sweet drinks. You declined his offers every time. The man was always so full of himself which made you not want to get involved with someone like him who has a following. The Buddha was living for himself, obtained enlightenment and ascended to godhood. Buddha thought you were a boring human at first glance but you caught his attention when you constantly rejected things from him. Yet you’d accept gifts and necessities from others— but not him?

Was it a game for him? He felt insulted but his ego tells him to get over it. This wasn’t something he should care for. He lives freely and loves how crowds of people would surround him.

He snapped one day seeing how you casually accepted apples from one of the farmers. Buddha was frowning with displeasure at the sight, but it wouldn’t stop him from trying to get your attention somehow. He denied it in his head that he was spying on you. He has everything he could wish for but seeing how happy you were accepting things from others but not him, displeased him somehow.

When he finally saw you were alone picking flowers in your garden. Your space. You didn’t like others would invade your alone time. “It seems that I came at a perfect time, what are these?” he went to pick up one of the flowers but you stopped him by swatting his hand. He pouted while taking another one of his candies out and popping it in his mouth.

“Perfect time for you to leave, yes?” You tilted your head and saw his expressionless face at how careless you were around him. This is what drew him to you, to begin with. You say what you want to say to him and reject his flirtatious advances and offerings.

“Aw don’t be like that,” he pouted and then gave you a nickname that you loathed. “Why don’t you accept things I give you anyway?” He sat down next to you.

You didn’t know how to answer that. You turned your head stubbornly. “Maybe I just don’t like accepting things so casually—"

“You accepted apples from some farmer earlier eh, so did you offer anything in return?“ he was causing your face to burn up but you pushed yourself away from him even more considering how close he was trying to get between you two. Was he trying to get under your skin?!

“Th— That’s different! You’re just annoying agh!” You clutched your head. Could you stand being around him any longer but this made him laugh uncontrollably. Huh?

“See I like your honesty! Why don’t you get to know me more and see if you change your opinion about me? To start off take these and cool your head a bit.” He handed you his basket full of grapes. You sighed, it seemed impossible to ever be free from him so why not? Maybe you’ll grow onto him just like how he is a thorn in your side.

Poseidon

Poseidon was generally a quiet apathetic guy. On the outside, you could tell he either doesn’t care about your existence or you’re just dirt for him to walk on. However, none of that was true. You were special to him like his brothers are even if he doesn’t show it, his love language was different and more on the possessive side. He was king of the sea and extremely strong.

Whenever he calls himself the perfect being and that gods don’t need help. You on the other hand we’re cautious of him at first but he recognized your strength and viewed you as strong which surprised you. He rarely talks but his compliment took you off guard. “Strong? Not at all, I don’t want help from others. It’s selfish, but I don’t want others to get hurt because of me.” He thought your response was stupid.

His cold exterior made you shudder under his gaze. He raised his left hand and you thought he was going to hit you so you turned your head. His hand softly touched your cheek. “You think I’d harm you?” He rubbed his thumb over your face. It deeply bothered him you still had no trust in him. Even though he believes that gods don’t help each other. He still very loved your comfort during some of the hardest times. You never needed help or asked for it. He viewed you as different and not one of those bottom-feeder gods.

You never disobeyed him and felt more relieved how he treated you with respect. Also, he claimed you as his alone. You've never seen him with other women so you may be right to assume you were his consort— despite not married. Other men get scared off whenever they approach you and he was nearby watching.

Going as far one of them had tried to give you a dazzling pearl necklace in an attempt to sway you. They were unaware how you were already taken even if Poseidon never said the words, it deeply infuriated him. Pearls? From his sea? He could give you better. “Take it off,” he demanded while holding himself back from ripping the necklace off your neck completely. You don’t hesitate to remove it but he took the pearled necklace from your hand and snapped it in two.

“Was that necessary?” You were shocked by his jealousy. Was he afraid you would betray him? Your loyalty was to him only. The gift wasn’t anything special.

“Yes.” He pushed passed you to grab something from his top shelf before walking back to you and standing a few centimetres apart. He grabbed your arm and put something cold around your wrist. You took a look at what he put on you and covered your mouth. A sea-charmed bracelet with clams and other small sea-shaped mammals made of gold and silver.

Poseidon watched your reaction and it was pleasing to see that you liked it. Hades was the one who told him to impress you with what girls normally would like— jewelry. “Thanks, I— I don’t know what to say…” you quietly muttered. Poseidon never was mean to you but whenever he showed his possessive side it would sometimes scare you.

“Nothing. Just accept it.” He was itching to hold you close to him in that moment but what stopped him was his pride. You put your arms around him— which normally anyone would be dead in that moment. He allowed it and slowly his arms wrapped around your body. He deeply cared for you and you knew that. You were his as he was yours.

Note: I have no idea how I feel with part 2. Hades and Buddha parts feels whack and Poseidon and Susano’o feels on point. Which is the weird thing…

[crushribbons]

Totally adore your work. Birdie was too good. I have to request anything jealous, pining seb in your style 🥹 pretty, pretty pls, gah

omg please don't enable me like thiiiisss (always enable me like this ily xx) NSFW (18+ onlyyyy)

--

"Prewett. Who is that witch over there, at the Minister's table?"

Prewett turned his head over his shoulder. "The one on his left?"

"Don't look right at her," Sebastian grumbled, reaching across the expanse of white linen between Leander and him and pulling his co-worker back to face him by the jacket. The witch glanced up and caught sight of the commotion at the table in front of hers. Her brow furrowed. "Fuck, she's beautiful."

A middle-aged witch seated to his right gave a disapproving "tsk!" and Sebastian rolled his eyes. He couldn't countenance the Ministry holding these infernal luncheons in the poshest London restaurants at all, let alone being forced to attend them and sit amongst people he avoided like the plague in the hallways. His stiff collar, that Anne had insisted on starching for the occasion, dug into the bottom of his chin. Prewett suppressed a chuckle at Sebastian's rudeness.

"That's his daughter, Sallow, didn't you know? There's a fun Sunday evening dinner for you." A shudder passed through Sebastian at the thought of making niceties with the oaf he technically worked for, as the Minister rarely deigned to dirty his fingernails down in the R.C.M.C. and thought its employees less-deserving of Ministry resources than the stiff-necked desk jockies of other departments. But for her...For her, he thought, he could choke down a dry pot roast and smile whenever he needed to. She had resumed her conversation with the woman across from her, and her laughter was sweeter than the perfumed air wafting through the restaurant.

Images of what he'd like to do to her, preferably on top of her father's ostentatious desk, flashed through his mind and he smirked despite himself. He could almost hear her moans, greedy, and feel her claw into his neck. The impropriety of his thoughts sent a guilty flush through him when he stared at the picture-perfect socialite with a smile on her face and a...

Goddamned diamond on her finger.

When she lifted her left hand to fan herself after a particularly joyous peal of laughter, Sebastian's knuckles whitened around his knife. That jealous streak, that'll be the death of you one day, his sister's voice echoed in his head. Pain shot up his temple as he ground his teeth together. She was spoken for? Taken from him as soon as he'd found her?

The man on the other side of her then put his arm around the back of her chair and leaned too close to her, sullying her with his proximity, and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle behind the hand that covered her mouth. The diamond sparkled when the sunlight hit it. Sebastian wasn't listening to a word that Prewett prattled at him. She should be blushing pink like that for him, for him alone, crying out his name as he brought her to the brink of tears as many times as he could with just his tongue.

That should be his diamond on her finger, his thumb running across the back of her hand, his mouth planting deliberate pecks of affection across her cherubic cheeks. He imagined asking her to be his while he fucked her, and she responded with much more enthusiasm than the demure ascent she'd no doubt given to the sap draped over her: Yes, yes, yes!

Her eyes fell on him, and he straightened immediately. He wanted her to find him acceptable, attractive, anything for her to toss a careless smile in his direction. She lingered, just for a moment, regarding him over the top of her glass. Sebastian couldn't have pulled himself away from her gaze if he had tried.

It was probably his imagination; it was growing more and more treacherous by the second, but he could have sworn that he saw her glance to either side to ensure no one was looking then mouth to him,

"Cloakroom. Now."

The words "Excuse me" weren't even out of Sebastian's mouth before he had risen to his feet with a clatter of silver and porcelain and begun making his way towards the mercifully unattended cloakroom.

[t3a-tan]

Pursuit of Gnosis (1/?)

No, not that one Scaramouche-

Here's what I wrote for Ryker's birthday! I will probably write a second part, possibly more, we'll see. G/t interactions appear pretty late into this, but I hope you enjoy ^^ Let me know what you think!

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“Órale, my Zorrito is all grown up! Come here mi vida, I need a kiss before you go…”

Ryker held back a groan as his mother pulled his face down to her level and began to pepper him with affection.

“Mama, I'm not a child anymore—” He protested, though he couldn't help that a chuckle escaped his lips. Even now, when he was standing at the precipice of discovery, going out into the world to take his research even further, she still insisted on treating him like he was a baby.

Once he was allowed his face back he cleared his throat to get rid of the embarrassment that was starting to heat his cheeks, instead throwing on his jacket and picking up his bag. Most of his belongings were already packed and being sent to his new home beyond the walls of Nirgend.

“Will you be okay out there on your own without your mama, eh?” She asked warmly as she fussed with the buttons on his jacket, doing it up and flattening any wrinkles down. Ryker smiled reassuringly when she looked up and met his gaze.

“Of course, mama. I'll be fine, and I will come back to visit. A palabra.” He promised.

“Ah! Vaya, mi vida… I just remembered, I found your old journals in a box under your bed. I know the carriage ride will be long, so I thought you might like to take them with you— to flick through. They're just collecting dust here after all.” She turned and picked up another bag with some difficulty, and Ryker was quick to bend down and take it from her.

“Careful with your back…” He scolded lightly, before glancing down at the bag of books he was now carrying. I have to admit, it would be interesting to read through… I probably have some old theories in here too. He looked at his mother again and leaned down, kissing her on either cheek. “Thank you, mama.”

He waved to her as the carriage left; his bags now settled beside him rather than weighing him down. He blew a kiss, smiling as she caught it and placed that hand on her cheek, blowing her own kiss back. He mimicked the gesture and waved again before sitting back on the carriage bench with a sigh.

His gaze was drawn to the bag of journals again. She's right…it will be a long while before reaching my destination. I may as well start now. Reaching down into the bag, he felt around for a few moments, searching for the first one. Just how many are in here?

Keeping journals was something he started when he was young, and now he made sure to write something down every day that he could. His more recent journals had already been moved over to his new home, and it hadn't even occurred to him to bring his older ones as he didn't even know where they were.

Until now.

He pulled out a scrappy looking journal that had some scribbles on the front. Ryker chuckled to himself, recalling the moment that Ines found his journal and drew pictures all over the cover. He had been mortified when he found that out, making sure to hide his journals much better from them on to prevent anyone else from reading it, despite her assuring him that she hadn't looked inside.

Turning to the first page, Ryker started to read.

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Journal 1, Entry 001.

- - -

Hello! My name is Zorro.

I turned thirteen years old today, and my mama gave me this journal as a gift! I got some other cool presents too, like the pencil I'm writing with and a cupcake for later.

She said this journal was made by people on the outside. One day, I would like to go outside the walls and see the big cities. I heard they're as big as a whole country!

I'm gonna be a famous scientist someday, and then the Sovereign will have to let us all out. Mama can have a nice house in a forest like she's always wanted, and I'll get myself a pet gryphon and fly wherever I want.

- - -

Journal 1, Entry 062.

- - -

I read in the paper that Queen Seraphina will be ascending today. Mama is excited, but I can't help but notice that the next in line is very young to assume such responsibilities.

Seraphina has been Queen since even before my mama was born. Opa said that he was twelve when she took the crown.

I know she isn't our queen, Anderna do not have our own ruler because we live under the Sovereign of Gahenn, but I know she is nice. When mama was little, Seraphina greeted our kind from outside the gates. Mama said she even waved at her.

I wonder what it would be like to fly like the angels do. I know that shifting is against the Sovereign’s law, but sometimes I wish I could just to see what it would be like.

We have a new neighbour on the floor above us. Mama said there's a girl my age, and she invited the new family over for dinner. I hope we can be friends.

- - -

Journal 7, Entry 011.

- - -

I managed to finish with the top grades in my classes when it comes to sciences, literature, and mathematics. I've already started searching for further education so I can focus on magic research. Ines has been helping me apply for things.

She is going to be an artist. Although I am not usually one for the arts, I have to admit that her paintings are very beautiful. Though, I prefer she doesn't paint near my work, due to the many times she has ended up spilling paint on the papers.

Although I feel a bit anxious about moving out, I know I cannot stay living with mama forever, as much as she claims she wouldn't mind. I will make sure to visit— not that it's difficult in this city.

- - -

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“Dr. Ryker?”

“Hm?” He hummed, not even looking up from the entry he was reading when he heard his name being spoken. It has been hours since the carriage had first set off, but Ryker had hardly noticed; too focused on reading.

“Do you need help with getting your bags on the boat, sir?”

Now that got his attention. He realised that the carriage was now stationary…and that his stomach was beginning to complain from a lack of food.

“Ah. No, that's alright. Just a moment…” He held out a hand placatingly before starting to put the journals he had read through back into the bag. Once everything was secure he picked his luggage up, bending down to get through the door and step out of the carriage.

At this point the sight of the carriage driver's nervous expression no longer fazed him; he knew that the rest of Gahenn was still prejudiced towards Anderna, and he was just appreciative that they weren't being combative. Many people had already taken issue with an Anderna moving into their country.

He had stopped listening to the news for that reason, growing tired of how often they liked to complain about his kind as if they were a plague spreading throughout the land rather than him being a scientist seeking to better the lives of everyone. It was the new hot topic that everyone seemed to have an opinion about.

“Thank you for the ride.” Ryker nodded his head towards the driver in appreciation, receiving a hesitant nod in response. He watched silently as the carriage headed off, turning and going back in the direction it had come from. Once he could no longer hear the hooves trotting against the dirt road he turned, walking to the dock and boarding the boat.

It would still be another day or two before he would reach his destination, so upon reaching his room and having himself a meal, he started to read through his journal entries again.

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- - -

Journal 12, Entry 201.

- - -

It's so refreshing to work alongside people as passionate as I am about the potential sciences behind magic. Some more so than others, but regardless I enjoy it greatly.

Although we have made no discoveries that would change the way our world views magic entirely, I feel that we are close. I cannot sleep some nights because I just want to write hypothesis after hypothesis, and then I become too excited over actually testing these hypotheses to rest. Ines always scolds me for it.

Souls are still something that we don't fully grasp. They are difficult to observe and any papers made on them offer very little or very inconclusive data on how souls work. Souls are linked to magic but how exactly they are linked and why some races can perform certain kinds of magic whilst others can't is still a mystery.

I think too many people are looking at it through a theological perspective, thinking about why the gods gave certain races souls with high magic capabilities, and others ones with low capabilities. I personally believe that a biological approach would be best, as much as my peers disagree.

Because of the fact that Anderna cannot travel outside of Nirgend, our access to research is limited. Although this is a frustrating setback, I know that the Sovereign's law cannot be changed without some convincing. Once I make a breakthrough and show the world outside that Anderna are not to be feared, I hope that everyone will be able to go wherever they please.

Tonight I'll be going out for drinks with my coworkers, and no doubt I'll be looking after them all since it seems none of them have gotten past their university phase when it comes to pacing themselves. It will be fun anyway since Ines agreed to come along. At least I won't be mostly sober alone.

- - -

Journal 17, Entry 046.

- - -

I've made a breakthrough.

We have been looking at things all wrong— magic isn't something that is created; it is ever-present, like oxygen in the air. Souls are just the conduit for activating the magic that's already around us— and genetics play a key role in determining what the output is.

I need to observe this phenomenon further before taking it anywhere. Once I have a more solid hypothesis I will bring it to the others’ attention. Magic researchers tend more towards theology than biology and I don't want my own discoveries to be muddied by this factor.

Perhaps a new department may even be created? A new field of research entirely? I could be at the forefront of history, leading not just the Anderna but all of Gahenn to a new realm of scientific understanding!

A great woman once said that, “Scientific discovery is not the unveiling of truth, but the relentless pursuit of understanding—each answer leading to new, uncharted questions.” - Syl Sheridan.

I can only dream of the paths and questions that will follow.

Ines is just as excited as me about it. I really love her. Maybe one of these days I ought to tell her as much.

I've heard some things on the radio that there are tensions between the Sovereign and Queen Mary. Ines seems to be getting a lot about it, but I don't know much. Politics were never an interest of mine, but I theorise that it's not much to worry about. The news is likely blowing things way out of proportion for shock value.

- - -

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Finishing the last entry, Ryker let out a sigh of relief. It had taken much longer than he thought it would; his entries later on had become much longer winded and in depth, but it still felt nice to get back into the headspace of a younger him. Now he was thirty-two, and had much more responsibility on his shoulders.

His research and findings on magic had gained him great fame and reputation all over Gahenn, and he had even heard rumours that Syris was taking an interest in his research too. When he was a young boy with ambitions to be a famous scientist, there was a time in his life that he felt it was just a pipe dream…

And yet, now he was outside of the walls, exploring the world and taking on new ventures with the same ambition he had all those years ago. Sure, Anderna were still not allowed outside of Nirgend, with him being the only exception, but he hoped that would change with time. If he lived well and did good, people would understand that his kind were not to be feared.

He arrived at his new home; a large house that was in the middle of nowhere. It was an hour journey to get from his house to the city by carriage, but he didn't mind. Most of his research involved field work, and once he developed a hypothesis and gathered material that was when he actually needed a lab.

It took only a few days to unpack everything; mostly books. The furniture had already been set up beforehand by the same people who brought the rest of the boxes. As soon as he was finished unpacking he hastily grabbed a bag, a notebook and pencil, as well as some equipment to collect samples and readings, before heading out of his front door.

He requested to be placed in this particular area for one main reason; Gortoa. It was a mere twenty minute walk away from his doors, and that fact made him giddy with excitement. He had always wanted to do a more in depth analysis on the magical phenomena within the ancient forest, so having it so close was convenient.

Ryker could hardly contain his excitement, keeping his pace at a slight jog just to get there faster. The main thing he was hoping to find were wisps; he had many theories about what they were, and if he was right then it may be the most accurate way to study souls because they could be observed more easily.

He entered the forest, marvelling at the sight surrounding him.

The ancient forest was flourishing and bursting with life. The grass was soft, wildflowers and clovers dotted all across the forest floor, as trees as tall as tens of metres tall towered overhead. The canopy of golden leaves was so thick that it allowed almost no sunlight through— and yet the forest was illuminated by glowing moss hanging onto the trunks of the trees.

The gentle sound of a babbling brook could be heard in the distance, alongside the singing and chirping of birds flying high above his head. It was truly breathtaking. Now I understand why Ines wants to paint here so badly.

The sight of a faint blue glowing flower in the distance caught his attention and he hurried over to the water, eyes widening. Is that…?

Kneeling down beside the gorgeous iridescent flower, he reached down and let his fingers brush against the delicate petals, feeling the magic contained within.

“A mage lily… this is incredible.” They were rare flowers that were sought after not only for their beauty, but also for the astonishing amount of energy stored inside. If I bring it with me I will be able to use the magic stored inside to test ways to artificially activate it!

His clawed fingers delicately grasped the stem as he prepared to pick the lily, only for a shout from below to stop him in his tracks.

“Stop!”

He jolted back, eyes snapping open in shock as he heard the flower seemingly protest his actions.

“Oh my gods. Did the mage lily just speak..?” He gasped in surprise, leaning down and peeing at the flower more closely with growing interest. If the lily was sentient, did that mean magic could bring things to life? Could plants really have souls? How was it capable of speaking anyway??

His breath hitched as he saw a tiny figure step out from under the petals of the lily, with pale almost blueish skin and petals rather than hair. She looked kind of like a mage lily, if it grew legs and came to life. Ryker's mouth was agape as he stared down at the little person, his fingers twitching with the desire to pick them up.

What are they? A pixie? No…pixies haven't been seen for centuries now. And this…thing, doesn't have wings. His mind raced with question after question, a desire to know more filling him and making it almost impossible to think clearly. Just as he was resolving himself to pick up the tiny figure, she spoke again.

“Hello…” Her voice was smooth and serene, like the water surrounding the lily pad she was stood upon. Her weight seemed practically non-existent, or at the very least not enough for the lily pad to register it. Despite Ryker's temptation to grab her he refrained as he met her teal gaze, recognising her personhood. There was a soul in that gaze.

“What are you?” He blurted out the question before really registering her greeting, eyes shining with intrigue as he let his hands rest against the grass again instead of hovering so menacingly close to the tiny being. If he kept them like that he was sure he would have given into temptation sooner or later.

“U-um…” She edged a little closer to the water before looking up at him again and responding. “My name is Suiren.”

Ryker frowned slightly.

“I am Zorro. Although most call me by my last name, Ryker.” He introduced himself, placing a hand against his chest sincerely before humming. “But that didn't answer my question. I asked what you are, not who.”

There was a beat of silence between them, with him waiting intently for an answer and Suiren hesitant to give one. She sat down on the edge of the lily pad, letting her legs hang in the water. He watched with great interest as the legs that went into the water seemed to become part of it, completely invisible.

“Don't pick the mage lilies… the magic inside them just ends up spilling out and it can disrupt the balance of magic in this part of the forest.” She explained, still avoiding the question, and now avoiding his gaze too.

“...I see. Well I won't pick it then.” Ryker assured, as much as it disappointed him. He didn't want to be too hasty and end up ruining his research in the process. He could find another magic source so long as he was patient.

Wait a minute…

“Ah— wait. How would you know that it disrupts the balance of magic? And what exactly do you mean by that?” He was no longer interested in the flower at all, more fascinated over the tiny being who seemed to have a deeper knowledge of magic. It was doubtful that she was a scientist like himself, so he needed to know why.

As he leaned down closer, his face now hovering right above the tiny figure he bristled when she suddenly fell into the water.

“Wait!” He attempted to make a grab at the tiny flower person, not wanting them to get away before he could get his questions answered, but his hands grasped nothing but water. How did..?

Ryker's lips pursed together in disappointment, brows furrowing as he watched the ripples from his hands eventually steady once more. Just like her legs before, it seemed her whole body could become invisible in the water…or maybe she became the water? Whatever it was, he desperately wanted to know more.

I don't think she'll come back…not at the moment at least. I'll see if I can find any information about what she might be later, but for now I should continue to look for wisps.

He sighed and stood up, looking down at his warped reflection in the water and straightening his jacket once he realised the collar had popped up. He took out his notebook and scribbled down as many notes about the tiny being's appearance as he could before snapping the book closed again and shoving it into his bag. Stepping away from the water's edge, he resumed his search.

He didn't notice the teal eyes peeking out of the water and watching him leave.

[rokishimizu4]

A big brother’s sick day

Sorry everyone for such a long wait, from family drama to being sick, it has been a month and I want it to be done.

For @gaytransratboy, thanks for the request.

Enjoy this little snippet of my BatFam story

TW: Reader being sick and mentions of Joker venom

The frantic pounding of heavy combat boots against the carpeted hallway as Alfred struggles to get his suit jacket over his pajamas, but a swift kick against Alfred’s bedroom door made him give up on that idea entirely.

“Master Jason! What on?” He was quickly silenced as the bedroom door was kicked open and Jason rushed in with a squirming bundle of black and purple goo in his arms, his eyes wide and face paler than the moon outside.

“Grandpa!!” Jason yells in pure panic as he rushes into Alfred, almost knocking them both over if Alfred didn’t right himself up with the help of the struggling child, or Sleeper as they like to be called.

It has been quite some time since Alfred has taken care of a sick child, since Damian rarely gets sick and Tim is too stubborn to be taken care of for more than an hour or so, and it does not fill his heart seeing the agony on his youngest grandchild’s face.

“I don’t know what happened! Sleeps just literally dropped in on me as I was patrolling and Mare (Symbiot’s name for now) was screaming about the cold and how it burns!” Jason tries to explain as Alfred carefully takes Sleeper away from Jason and carefully sets them down on his bed.

A short, but quick, examination allows Alfred to see that somehow Sleeper breathed in some Joker venom, which made them have something similar to the flu.

“Master Jason, I need you to go start the bath. Set it to warm, not hot like you and your brothers like and not cold. I will also need our best towels, the softer the better, and a clean pair of pajamas.” Alfred turns away from Jason to allow him to carry on his new tasks, and to deal with the most difficult task.

“Master Bruce, Master Dick, I have been a butler for the Wayne family since Master Bruce was a baby. I have already gave Master Damian a list of what I will need for the human half of Sleeper. I will be damned with I cannot take care of another child in my care!”

Alfred turns to the whimpering mass of alien and child, withering in pain as he carefully wraps them into his soaked blankets and carry them into the connecting bathroom, where Jason sits testing the water with his hands and adjusting little by little.

“Should be warm enough, don’t know how our little sleep demon can get sick, but I just..” Alfred cuddles Sleeper in his other arm as he places a hand on Jason’s shoulder.

“Her and Mare will need all the rest that they can get. You are doing your job as their big brother by helping me get them cleaned and warmed back up. Have faith in yourself young man.”

“Heh, alright Bruce two.” Jason jokes as he helps Alfred unwrap Sleeper from the massive burrito blanket roll and watches as Mare slowly pulls away from their human half, only to start throwing up in the toilet.

“There there, let it out. It will do the body much better to get that bloody gunk out of your system.” Alfred takes a cold rag from Jason and holds it against Mare’s thick leather-like skin, only to take it away when it hissed at him.

“So cold equals bad, thanks for telling us.” Jason grumbles as Mare pulls far enough away, or sinks in Jason couldn’t be bothered to ask, for him to see Sleeps sickly pale skin, thankfully not a hint of green in sight.

However, both him and Alfred stops when they see the ace bandages wrapped tightly around Sleep’s chest. They both turn to look at Mare, who was trying to get rid of the taste of bile.

“Sleeper is us, We are Sleeper.” Was his only response as he spits some more bile down into the toilet bowl, before returning to their body, to deal with the rest of this so-called ‘Joker Venom’.

“So a they, yeah lets just go with that.” Jason grumbles as he unwraps the dirty ace bandages, and lets Alfred handle the rest.

“I will be in charge of Master Sleeper’s care for the time being. Master Jason..”

“Yeah, I know.” Jason says as he cocks a few hand guns on his person, setting out to do damage control, both inside the manor and outside.

Alfred turns back to Sleeper and allows Mare to help him clean them off. “Don’t worry Master Sleeper, no one will ever harm you again.”

Hope you guys enjoy. I don’t really know what I want to name the Symbiotic and the Reader. I want to do a fear and sleep theme. Let me know what you guys think. Also, I don’t like using Y/N or You for my stories unless it’s in the reader’s POV. Don’t ask me why.

[wiser-girl]

[nicoscheer]

A bit of shirt shopping with Ellis

I can’t properly deal with the way he went from I to [] like he got BROAD

[hauntingblue]

Gear 5 luffy's laugh is so contagious I just hear the drums and go insane how does this work. What did he do to me

[oldmanlusting]

Oh I can't believe I haven't talked about him yet on this blog, what a travesty. It must be rectified immediately

Mogens is hot. From Klaus. When his face lit up in that sudden self-assured smirk the first time I was immediately entranced by him, not to mention his voice, his expressive movements, his sarcastic quips and all his lovely facial features, from his sideburns to his midnight-black hair to his tired, yet mischievous eyes

And also THAT BODY

[a-pastel-edgelord]

Rintaro Suna believes there are absolutes in life. For example, he'll never score higher than a 75 in social studies, or that chuupets taste best on a hot day... Oh, or that you are totally and completely unavailable.

You call Kita, Shin. You always have ever since he met you. He calls you by your first name as well. He always has ever since Suna knew of your existence.

It's impossible to miss—Kita lives in such a methodical way. Like clockwork you show up in the gym just as practice ends. You help clean up. You make small talk with the team. You wait until Kita is done. Then you walk home together.

Suna didn't think much of you at first, just another person in his orbit. But then, during practice on a particularly hot day you showed up with popsicles and watermelon for the team. Kita scolded you for it, talking about how you spoil them. You shrugged it off, saying you have the right. The rest of the guys rushed to get their treats, Suna gave it a second, too sluggish in the heat. Something cold pressed against his temple. It was you, poking him with a pack of chuupets. You'd gone out of your way to refrigerate them. "You like these right? I saw them on sale so I got you some."

That day, something in his brain stuttered. But not that it mattered because you were taken by the captain of the volleyball team. Even if Kita is a bit of a weird hardass robot kind of guy, Suna likes him. Respects him too much to even entertain the notion of flirting with you.

"Maaaan!" Atsumu whines in the locker room. "I wanna show off my service ace." He's been complaining about you not coming to watch a practice.

Akagi rolls him eyes. "Some people actually study, y'know. Apparently Kita-san is eyein' some fancy university in Tokyo."

"Yeah, Tsumu." Osamu drawls. "Kita-senpai doesn't have volleyball brain like you. So studyin' ain't a lost cause."

Suna pauses halfway through putting on his jacket. "Kita-senpai?" The words are foreign in his tongue.

"Huh?" Gin looks at him. "Yeah. You know. Kita-senpai. They're cousins. We call 'em Kita-senpai so we don't get confused with the captain."

Suna appreciates another absolute as he throws on his shoes and sprints down the stairs to where he knows you're waiting for your cousin. The fact that he is an absolute idiot.

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[krosiefics]

when did you get so buff? • lee minho

M D N I 18+

Synopsis: when your best friend, Minho, arrives at your apartment drenched from the rain. What would happen if you acted on the sudden arousal of seeing the outline of his built body?

WC: 1.3k

Tags: smut, pwp, afab!reader, bsf!minho, softdom!minho, ass spanking, pet names (baby, kitten), cursing, grinding, lwk dry humping, piv, unprotected sex (plz don’t), creampie, unprepped sex, mutual pinning(?), probably forgetting something :P

a/n: this was written in like 10 mins so it’s kinda rushed lol also not proofread…this man had me in a chokehold the entire mv making video

————————————————————————

“Woah- when the fuck did you get so buff Min?” You let out a laugh of disbelief. Your best friend was on his way to your apartment when it started raining, by the time he got to your home, his jacket was soaked through, clinging to every part of his torso.

Minho looked at you and shrugged as he took off his jacket, “I dunno, I did start going to the gym with Changbin and Chan.”

“You look hot.” You said with a smirk, taking his jacket from him, leaving the room to put it in the dryer. Minho stood there with a flush on his face.

“Did she just say…I look hot?!” Minho thought to himself, his mind going a million miles an hour as his heart hammered in his chest. This wasn’t good for him, sure the two of you flirt sometimes, but he knows it’s nothing more than playful, at least on your end.

Minho placed his hand on his chest, taking deep breaths to calm his raging heart. You stroll back into the room and notice him taking deep breaths. “Hey you good?” You near him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Minho flinches slightly at your touch before melting into it.

“Yeah…I’m fine.” He gave a weak grin. “Dude, your face is super red.” You say in a worried tone, your hands cupping his red cheeks. His eyes go wide at your action, you realize and pull away, your face now heating up.

“Sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me.” You shake your head in embarrassment, you feel like your heart is about to rip through your body. “Fuck.” Minho groaned, moving to sit down on your sofa. “Don’t be sorry…it’s okay, I didn’t mind it.”

Your eyes lock with his, walking over to him almost as if you were entranced by him and he was drawing you in. You stood in front of Minho, gazing down into his pretty brown eyes, your eyes fall to the small little mole on his nose. You smile to yourself as you unconsciously trail your finger along it, down to his lips.

In an instant you’re snapped out of your daze, retracting your hand from Minho’s face. You were about to apologize before being suddenly pulled into his lap. Minho held your hips as you straddled his hips. You face heating up with each passing second. Minho leaned into, hesitantly nudging your nose with his.

Your breath hitches as his eyes shift their gaze to your lips. Unconsciously, you jolt your tongue across your lower lip, causing them to glisten. “Fuck,” you breathe out shakily, “your lips are pretty.” Before you could even process your own words, the boy in front of you pulls you in by the nape of your neck, attaching his lips to yours.

You moan into the kiss as his hands trail down towards your ass before gently squeezing at it. “Min,” you whined, a knowing feeling surged through you that you dreaded, the two of you needed to talk about what’s happening. “Shh, let’s enjoy this, then talk.” He said between kisses.

Minho’s hands made their way to the hem of your shirt, slipping them under, touching your warm skin. “Soft.” He smiled against your lips before cupping your breasts under your shirt causing you to gasp out a moan. Your hands fly to Minho’s hair as he begins peppering kisses along your neck, his hands still groping at your chest.

You roll your hips into his, Minho lets out a pleasurable sigh at the friction. His hands trail down your curves to the swell of your ass before grasping it in his palms. You groaned at the touch, both of his hands and the rolls of your hips.

Minho places a kiss on your collarbone as he lightly smacks your clothed ass. You jolt at the sudden slap but it didn’t induce too much pain.

“Min,” you sigh, fingers pulling against his hair full of need. You can feel arousal pooling, you wouldn’t be surprised if it already stained your shorts by now.

Minho sneaks his hands under the waistband of your shorts and onto your warm skin, gently pushing down your shorts while massaging the flesh there. You allow him to slip it down, shifting your legs so that you can slide the material off.

Before Minho could guide you back into his lap, you stay in your awkward lifted position, slipping out of your underwear, which you can now see has a very evident wet patch on it.

“Fuck.” Minho breathes out, his hands feeling up your curves, “You’re hot you know that?” You feel your cheeks warm at his sudden praise, shifting your head to the size so that the boy underneath you doesn’t see your blush. But of course Minho notices, he smirks pridefully to himself, tongue poking out between his teeth.

Minho brings his hand up to slap your ass again but he stops dead in his tracks as he watches intently as you work your fingers at his jeans. Minho stares at you, the way your cheeks are red, the way your hands shake slightly with excitement, the way you’re rubbing your thighs together as you finally unbutton and unzip his fly.

Minho lifts his hips, after snapping out of his daze that you put him in, allowing you to pull his pants and boxers down in one swoop. His cock freely stood against his lower abdomen, red and veiny, precum leaking at the tip, not too big but definitely above average.

Minho’s desire for you grew even more as he watched you drool over his cock, the one that you had yet to actually touch. “Come sit your pretty pussy on me, yeah kitten?” Your eyes widen at the pet name, a wave of lust rushing through your body that has your cunt clenching around nothing.

Adjusting yourself back comfortably into his lap, you take hold of his cock aligning it with your hole. You probe your throbbing cunt with the tip, an erotic mewl leaving your lips. Sounds of your mains overlapping filled the room as you finally sunk down onto his cock, fully bottoming out.

The stretch burned, it burned so much that it brought tears to your eyes, but that wasn’t about to stop you from rolling your hips down onto Minho. “Wait baby, I didn’t stretch you- just wait okay.” Minho grunts as your forehand falls against his. His hands held you still as you clenched around his cock, adjusting to his size.

“You okay now kitten?” You hastily nod, your hips twitching with neediness. Minho chuckles before guiding you off his cock before moving you back down. You both let out a groan when you start speeding up the pace of your movement.

Minho’s hands now just gripping at your waist as you bounce on his cock. The tip of his cock hits you right in your g spot causing your thighs to tremble slightly. Your orgasm grows closer and closer with each bounce.

Minho bites his lip at the sight in front of him; your lip caught between your teeth as your face scrunches up in pleasure, tits bouncing through your shirt, and your cunt taking his cock so well.

The feeling of you clenching so tightly around him drove him towards his climax.

“Fuck babe, imma cum.” Minho grunted as he bucked his hips up to meet yours. You moaned loudly at how his cock filled you deeply. Your whines begin to rise as your orgasm hits you like a truck. With the combination of you creaming all over his cock and the intense clenching of your cunt, Minho’s cock twitches as he pours his load into you with a deep groan.

“Holy shit,” You breath out shakily, “we just did that.” Minho chuckles as he lifts you enough to slip his cock out, he could feel as his cum dripped out of your cunt and onto his pelvis.

“Fuck I love you…I have for a while.” Minho pants in disbelief as he gazes into your exhausted eyes. You nuzzle your head into his neck with a smile, “I’ve loved you too Min, for a while.”

[atoltia]

Promise of Wealth

Sylus gave you access to the entirety of his fortune, and yet you keep using it... on him?

In which the MC doesn't really care about his money so much.

Sylus and fem!MC fluff

Disclaimer: I've only been playing the game for less than two weeks so apologies for any mistakes.

---

To obtain power, one must have it.

It was a natural truth, one that he diligently followed. It took discipline to hone his instincts, experience to ensure success in his ventures, a raw, natural brutality that served to enhance his ideals and further his reputation not just as the leader of Onychinus, but as a conqueror known throughout the galaxy.

The simple utterance of his name invoked fear. The visage of him exuded wealth, so much so that he could buy himself a decent-sized country if he so wanted.

Sylus was perplexed.

He had all the wealth that he could possibly covet, is still planning to acquire. He owned several multi-million enterprises, resorts, hotels, villas and manors - all the material gains that one could only dream to have and made sure you had access to every single thing the moment the two of you made your relationship official.

He trusted you with his card, he's opened up your own bank account already filled with millions, acquired property and assets in your name. You could get anything that you'd want and he wouldn't bat an eye.

And yet the only purchase you made for yourself in the several months you've been together was a book that costed no more than twelve credits.

His brows furrowed when he saw the credit card reports. There were purchases made by you. Several, even. But the amounts of the transactions were unimpressive, with a few sizable purchases here and there. And he knew, of course he knew, exactly what those big purchases were.

The new leather coat the you had tailor made for him was hanging over his office sofa. The jeweled cuff links that you got for him twinkled prettily against the light of his desk lamp. You replaced his gun holster, saying that his other one was already worn.

He was sure that the twins were sporting new jackets with bulletproof lining seeing as the last ones got torn to shreds in a gun fight two months ago. Even Mephisto's perch in the living room was brand new.

The refrigerator was always stocked with a variety of ingredients that previously weren't in the usual lists, and after a conversation with the chef and the staff, he knew that they weren't the ones getting the groceries in the last six months.

It's not like it upset him that you didn't use his wealth. It was just rather confusing and amusing to a degree. Was this you being stubborn, perhaps? Or was this your way of keeping your independence? Hm, it wasn't like he was preventing you from doing your work. Not at all.

He thought about looking at the purchases from your own card, but then thought against it. From the time you've spent together, he doubted that the results would be any different.

But he could ask.

You weren't difficult to find. At this time of day he could often find you in the living room, curled up on the couch with a book or fiddling with your phone, and today wasn't any different.

Soft music played from the record player next to the sofa as the curtains near the air conditioner rustled. You hand was outstretched, resting on nothing but air as you slept, the book that you were so diligently reading was strewn on the ground.

Sylus breathed out a chuckle as he leaned against the doorframe, just watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, shushing Mephisto when the mechanical companion fluttered his wings a little too hard.

But your training as a hunter wasn't for nothing. Heightened senses, even when asleep, was part of the package Sylus had to accept and fully expected when both of you moved past simply lovers to an official couple.

The flutter of your eyelashes was slight, but there was an alertness to your gaze the moment you awoke, quickly scanning the room without so much as budging any part of your body, and immediately calmed when you realized where you are and who was in the room.

"Mm."

"Hello, sweetie."

From beneath the covers you raised your other arm, reaching towards him when he strode towards you. It would be so easy for him to engulf you in his entirety. It wasn't lost on him that his physicality was so much bigger than you, but it was one of the things that you loved about him - loved at how easy it was for him to just pick you up and hold you, envelop you into his embrace.

"Sylus."

He loved the way you purred out his name, loved the way you just molded in his arms like warmed putty, soft and pliable as you positioned yourself in a more comfortable spot on his lap. He picked up the book from the floor.

"This is the book you bought."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you buy the others?"

You shrugged, pulled the book that hung loosely from his fingers before showing him the cover. "How would I know if the series is good if I don't buy the book first? It's a waste if it sucks."

He looked at you quizzically, smirked. Ruffled your hair.

"Oh, are you afraid to waste my money, sweetie? Fifty credits isn't a sum to be concerned about."

"Still," you pressed, drilling a finger into the spot that you know was ticklish, laughing when he grabbed your arm and bit your finger. "I'm not wasting shit on a mediocre book."

With your hand still in his grasp, he maneuvered you enough to have you be on top of his chest as he took your position on the couch, those long, long fingers of his kneading the dip between your hips. "Is it mediocre?"

"No. It's pretty good, actually."

"Then buy the rest of it."

"What if the third one sucks?"

"Sweetie," he took your chin, had you look into the deep scarlet of his eyes as amusement danced in it. "Just buy it or I'll buy it for you."

The look in your eye was indescribable to him. It was as if you were searching something that she couldn't quite grasp, couldn't quite find. He lightly bit the lip that you jutted out when you pouted.

"Do you not like spending my money?"

"I spend your money."

"Yes, but you spend it on us. Not on you."

Your brows furrowed. "So?"

"Darling," there was resignation on his voice as he flicked your forehead.

You frowned as you sat up, straddled him, your hands splayed on his wide chest. "I don't need anything. You already buy me things."

"And you need not more?"

"Sylus," you dipped down, cupped his cheeks. Kissed the tip of his nose. "I don't buy anything else because you already get me the things I could possibly need and more. So much more."

Those scarlet eyes regarded you as his fingertips ran up and down your back. You knew all too well how cold those eyes could get, how dangerous his hands could be. You knew all to well how easy it would be for him to snap you like a twig. You've seen it many times before, after all.

And yet he looked at you with such warmth right now that if you were a stranger, you would never be able to tell that this was Sylus, leader of Onychinus.

"I'll get you the entire universe if you so wish it."

And you knew, deep in your heart you know, that it was the truth. His truth.

So you told him your truth as well.

You straightened your position on his lap, careful to not... excite any other part of him as you reached from under your shirt, pulled out the necklace that he gave you all those months ago.

It was a simple little thing. A sizable ruby lovingly enveloped by two crow's wings made of polished silver. It was one of the first things he gave you when you accepted him, when you accepted his love and his force of will. When you wore it, you showed him that you accepted all of him, including his shadows, including his pain, including the violence that followed him wherever he went.

No matter how much glitter he decided to get you, all the shiny things he draped on you, you always came back to this necklace. It was a promise to him, as much as it was a promise to you.

"You gave me stability," you said to him as you rubbed circles on his muscled torso. "I won't have to worry about making rent anymore or if I'll have enough money to buy food for the next week. You gave me a home, you gave me companionship, you gave me warmth." And with every single gift of his, you tapped his lips. "Do you drive me insane? Yeah, you do." A kiss to his cheek, his lips. "But I'm sure I drive you insane much, much more."

Stillness descended upon you both, the music from the gramophone the only thing to indicate that time did not, in fact, stop.

"You gave me family, Sy."

Those large hands of his moved, prying your fingers from his chest as he slipped them between your fingertips before pulling you closer, gently, every so gently, peppering your neck with tiny little nips. He sighed.

"You will be my undoing."

You smiled, nuzzled into the crook of his neck. "As you will be mine."

So there you two laid, heartbeats and breaths syncing, his one hand stroking your back as he lulled you back to sleep.

And thought it probably wasn't the time to tell you that he bought a tropical island in your name.

---

still trying to grasp how I wanna write him so it might take a bit more practice haha I do have more sylus fluff planned. feel free to send ideas tho (preferably angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. i don't really like writing smut that much)

[allurilove]

Calm Yandere x you

“Your expressionless boyfriend.”

Rated 18 + — mature short content!

Includes: calm yandere x talkative gender neutral reader, mutual pining?, strangers to friends to lovers, cute fluff in the beginning… other stuff later on. wink wink. ♡

Calm yandere was known to be a little cold. His default face is an unamused one, the ends of his lips always downward, and it certainly scared you away from him when you first saw him. He didn’t like to socialize as much as you did, and when you talked to him, he only seemed to nod. “Mhm,” and “uh-huh,” was all you could get from him. He didn’t hate nor dislike you— you’re an absolute perfect specimen, and a normal, and adaptable human being. You were everything he wanted to be. You were everything he wanted, period. He started to form a crush on you, and it was a minuscule one at first. He appreciated how you were able to carry a conversation, how bright and confident you looked compared to him, and you were this bright light in his grim dark reality.

Calm yandere was surprised when you made the first move. You wanted to be friends, and being just friends with you felt like torture. Although, he agreed—not wanting to miss the opportunity to be by your side even more. He followed you around, agreed to show up to all hangouts you planned, and he even invited you to his house. His house was surprisingly warm. He had soft white curtains, light pink decorations here and there, and it smelled like freshly baked cookies. Warm and sweet was what you would describe him now that you got to know him. He was the perfect host. He was showing you around the backyard, and he pointed out a couple of butterflies that liked to come by. His voice was flat and monotonous when he explained his favorite butterflies to you, but you could see a slight glimmer of happiness in his eyes. And most importantly, he showed you his bedroom. He had manga books on his shelves, mitski figurines, and one of the compartments was just filled with snacks. He had an old dog named “Mini” that was sleeping on his huge bed, loudly snoring, and kicking her feet as she dreamt of running around.

Calm yandere had asked you to be his partner months later. You were shocked when he confessed his feelings for you, and here calm yandere was, thinking that he had done a good job of hinting at it. You did notice the glances he would send your way, and how they would linger a bit longer than before. You then started to think back to the times he would do things for you. He would bend down and tie your shoelaces. He gave you his jacket when it was raining, and he would walk home soaking wet. He carried you on his back when you tripped and hurt your ankle. He let you into his house when you fought with your parents, and tried his damn hardest to crack a worried expression on his stone-like face. It wasn’t like you weren’t into him, you tried to give him signals too.

Calm yandere was oblivious, just as you were oblivious. You had literally invited him to every place you could think of. You made pottery with him, and even put your hands on his to help him shape his clay into a vase. That was a very intimate act. An act that made you flustered and blushing when you had pressed your body behind his. Him, on the other hand, didn’t even blink at the action. When you had told him that you found him cute and adorable, he just said “okay.” OKAY?? Clearly that meant he didn’t like you back, and you quickly put on a strained smile and went on with your day.

Calm yandere was an active listener, not really a replier, but a listener. He might look like he was disinterested, but any subject you brought up was the most interesting, and fascinating, topic of all time. You would talk his ear off, and you liked to speak your mind. “So, as I was saying…” you continued. He nodded along, his cheek resting on his hand, and he leaned even closer to play with the strands of your hair. He liked feeling and touching you. It reminded him that you were real, that you were in front of him, and you were officially his. Your lips were perfect, always moving and speaking, and it would form the world’s most beautiful smile. He could tell that some days you didn’t want to hear any solutions from him, and only wanted to have someone to talk too. So, he does exactly what you want.

Calm yandere was happy to advance the relationship even further! He would show finally show some PDA. An arm would casually be slung around your shoulders while you two walked. Whenever you sat next to him, and he didn’t like the distance between you two, he would grab onto the leg of the chair and pulled it in closer. He then would kiss your cheek, and as fast as it came, he had pulled back before you could reciprocate. He knew that being a boyfriend meant that he had to do some certain things… He was feeling bold when he saw you wearing shorts, and without really thinking, his hand reached out to touch at your thighs.

Calm yandere was taken aback by the overwhelming positive reaction. He didn’t imagine that a single brush from his finger tips would cause your brain to go haywire. You had pushed him onto the couch, and he fell back with a little grunt. He saw that you had climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips, and had placed his hand on a sensitive spot of your body. He felt up the flesh, and his fingers slipped underneath your shorts. He kept a watchful eye on your facial expressions, and he hummed in delight when you spread your thighs even further for him. He rubbed his fingers up and down the length of your privates, and he started to collect some of the wet substance that had leaked out. He heard you breathe out his name, and when your voice soon became whiny and you had pleaded for more, he knew you had to be close.

Calm yandere had you on your back. He pulled your shorts down your legs, flinging them to the side after he revealed your lower half to him. He leaned down to greet your sex with his tongue. You were loud and talkative in bed, just as you were out of it. Your back arched, and your hands painfully gripped at his hair. Your body started to tremble, almost trying to squirm its way out from underneath him. His hands had to keep your legs from closing on him, “don’t try to keep me away from you.” your boyfriend said firmly. He then gestured to the growing tent in his pants, “this is all your fault. I’ll make you feel good if you can do the same for me.”

Calm yandere liked to lick his fingers in front of you. His tongue swiping at the salty cum before he fully puts his digits inside his mouth. He could feel the wrinkles and ridges of his pruned fingers, and he gleefully sucked off the excess cum and saliva that had gathered on there. You were lying on the couch with a bit of a daze, your chest rising and falling, and you could still feel his eyes wandering on the work he had done. You had love bites on your neck, trailing down to your inner thighs, and lower towards your ankles. He had bit you down there to keep his voice down while he had himself buried deep inside of you. What could he say? You knew how to press his buttons and drive him wild.

Allure: this is calm yandere after you had called him cute.

Allure: A little update: I’ll work on the master list soon after this, and I’ll have to update a couple of lists such as the yandere kink ones… so that should be done next!