#he's like i hate the court but even i know you have no drip

[luckyricochet]

"Une silhouette d'homme, pas de mollusque."

THÉODORE PELLERIN as GILBERT DU MOTIER, THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE

EVERY LAFAYETTE SCENE, 3/? ✧ 1x01, FRANKLIN (2024)

[theoldsports]

SOLUTION.

Art Donaldson x Reader | 5k words

SORRY SERIES LINK.

warnings: pregnancy, implied discussion of abortion, a boy groveling on his knees for his family, there’s a dog (a real one, not just Art), talk about Art’s forced weird athletic borderline disordered eating.

okay, i lied last time. THIS is my best work. this is very out of my brain and i hope you love it. holy shit.

Have you ever sat and listened to a leaky faucet? I mean, really listened?

Steady. Like a heartbeat, if you think about it.

Sometimes, though, if the leak is slow enough, it’s more like the kind of heart rate that sends the nurse with the crash-cart sweeping into the room to shock you out of an AFIB pattern. Or however that worked.

[Y/N] was listening to it. The dripping. The kitchen sink. It hadn’t stopped for days. When it began, it was steady. Now, it was irregular. It started the day Art left

Art had been away at an early season tournament. [Y/N] had an impossible work week, so Art had told her he was happy to go for the better part of the week on his own. They both knew Art really did hate to be alone in situations like that. He had always had one of his people there. His mom, Patrick, [Y/N]; one of them was in his corner at these things. This time, he was truly on his own. Art could not stand to travel alone. He had his team of physios and coaches, but not his family. [Y/N] was going to swing by and surprise him at the end, but her boss had leaned into her for trying to take more days off during release season for the big summer blockbusters. Plus, someone did have to watch the dog.

This context about Art’s being away is important. It’s not that Art was the epitome of a handyman, but he really liked to feel like he was contributing to their home’s ecosystem when a lightbulb went out or a switch needed replacing. The man was incredible with the small things. Yet, [Y/N] sat at the kitchen table with a frown on her face, trying to rough in an outline for an article. With the faucet dripping. If Art were there, or if she was with Art three states over, the faucet wouldn’t be dripping against the porcelain basin.

It wasn’t like the wifi signal was strong enough anywhere else on the property for her to up and move either.

drip drip drip. Said the faucet.

[Y/N] was damn near the point where she was going to run upstairs to the bedroom and get the baseball bat Art kept with the express purpose of running down the stairs in his briefs and cracking up on possible intruders. All she could think about was bringing the wood down against the glass and cheap metal on her kitchen counter.

A new house would have a working sink and a bathroom counter that wasn’t too small and a halfway decent wifi signal.

Instead, [Y/N] set her face down upon the cool blue faux granite countertop. The temperature helped ease the feeling of the hyperbolic corkscrew being driven between her eyes. The dripping kept dripping and [Y/N] wanted to cry.

This agony wasn’t all the sink’s fault, though.

[Y/N] saw on the tennis channel before she even got a call from Art that he’d won that weekend. He still hadn’t called. The lack of a call from made her feel ashamed. Not a soul there to celebrate the success with him. She felt an immense sense of guilt slide across her skin because she wasn’t there to witness that smile he got when he won. Sweaty and angry, but relieved every time. He still got that look when he won. Art was a machine on the court, and a competitor not worth counting out at this point in his career. He still looked surprised and delighted every time he, of all people, hit the winner. [Y/N] loved that look. Art loved how she would celebrate with him after a win, too.

[Y/N] prayed Art made his flight without delay that evening. Selfishly, because she wanted her boy back. Also because Art was mortally terrified of airplanes. Planes made him feel out of control due to lack of trust with the pilot. Without that phone call from him, [Y/N] was scared knowing he was out on his own and that he likely felt anxious enough to give a horse a heart attack. She would have no way of knowing if something had happened between the match end and now.

She did know that the sink was leaking.

She also knew her period was two weeks late.

That, Art couldn’t fix on his own. In fact, it was fairly obvious that the delay was more or less Art’s fault.

[Y/N] hadn’t yet taken a pregnancy test at that time. If she took the time to take one, it would make everything the obvious answer a reality she would have to deal with. She had scares before. Ones that she had never, and would never, tell Art about. She would wait for her delayed—not missed!—period and everything would be fine. Like the other times. It had to be fine.

She checked her phone. It was a blue slidephone with small rhinestone stickers she had applied to the back. Still nothing from Art. He said he would call first right after the match, but he still hadn’t actually called, so maybe it was time to call first. It had been hours since he said he’d ring up. It wasn’t a major concern that Art would blow her off. Ideas of danger and uncertainties flooded her head.

“I’m the one that wants marriage so bad. Not Artie. What if he says no? Or not now…?”

[Y/N] sat on the beach with her back against Patrick’s shins. Art and [Y/N] were completing their first year completely post college. [Y/N] and Patrick were twenty-four and Art was almost twenty-four. His November birthday set him behind.

Patrick’s hands were on her shoulders and his body in a beach chair behind her while they both stared off over ocean as the sun set. “You’re actually stupid if you think he’ll deny you, [Y/N].”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to step on his game, or whatever. The guy is supposed to ask. Isn’t this going to be… emasculating or something?”

“Emasculating for Art? For pretty baby? Yeah, okay,” Patrick teased. [Y/N] threw a fistful of sand at him. “Christ, okay, okay. Cool it.” He spit.

Art had run back up toward to hotel to grab his water bottle, while Patrick and [Y/N] stayed at the dunes. [Y/N] wanted to propose to Art by trip’s end. She thought it would be sweet. Art was extremely forward when it came to her her, but he hadn’t been forward about the whole proposal business. He seemed scared about marriage. [Y/N]he would do it herself.

She was grateful for the time alone with her best friend too. Sitting and doing nothing, or partying. Either was more than welcome. “He’s not going to say no,” Patrick continued. His mouth casually leaned close to her ear. “Because it’s insane how whipped you’ve got him.”

“Don’t say that—“

“He wants to have your babies. Ask him. Trust me, he’ll say yes and he will be all the hell over you.” His fingers worked into [Y/N]’s shoulders, feeling the tension there. He took his hands off of her when Art came running down the beach.

[Y/N] heard a click in the lock. Her head flopped to the left, still pressed against the counter, to glance at the door. Her heart rate increased. She was so tired and the speed of the situation so fast, that she didn’t both moving or attempting to defend herself.

Most fortunately, when the door swung open, it was her Art. The sun was going down behind him. He looked a bit ragged and had a racket bag over one shoulder and two duffels in the other hand. She sat upright sharply on the kitchen barstool. “Pretty baby!”

All Art’s gear hit the floor. The door was left open behind him (taking a big chance that their Labrador mix, Cheese, didn’t run down the stairs and bolt out and away). Art walked toward [Y/N], arms extending. His strong arms pulled [Y/N] in close to his chest. She rested her head against his soft gray t-shirt. Her own arms embraced him back and one of her hands tucked comfortably into the back pocket of his jeans. “[Y/N]… I missed you.” Art said into her hair.

“I missed you… I-I… You didn’t call. How did you get here—“

“Final match actually started on time, so I gambled on moving my flight to the earlier one. I didn’t have time to call if I was taking the early one. I should’ve texted. I got nervous with the-the flight. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

[Y/N] leaned back to look at him. There was no more welcome sight in the world than Art Donaldson. Irish genetics saw to it that Art was freckled from the spring sun. With shaggy hair boyishly covered by a baseball cap tipping back dangerously, he practically glowed. Even though he looked like shit. His sunglasses were hanging on his shirt. [Y/N/] tilted her head up, signaling for a kiss. Hungrily, Art leaned forward to take as many kisses as he wanted. His lips tasted like spearmint gum. Like always.

Cheese did run downstairs when Art’s hand climbed up the side of [Y/N]’s throat and when her own hand started to squeeze from under the fabric of Art’s back left pants pocket. Art had to pull regretfully away to grab Cheese by the collar and shut the front door.

Delightedly, Art did gteet Cheese with ear-scratches and a belly rub. Art received the customary licks and a tailwags in return. Cheese was always pretty down when the whole family wasn’t together. He walked and played a bit, but when his dad wasn’t around, Cheese kind of deflated. He had spent most of the time laying flat on Art’s side of the bed. It was obvious the dog was grieving the disappearance of his boy.

When Art bent down to pat his beloved Cheese, [Y/N] stood from her chair and bent at the waist. She pulled Art’s hat off and set it on the counter. Gently, she kissed Art on top of the head. With a scratch not unlike the ones he gave to the canine to the back of Art’s neck, the man looked up at her from the ground with a half-smile.

“Congrats, baby,” [Y/N] said. Art cut his eyes curiously from her to the tennis channel on the TV playing in the next room. That had him realizing where she would have gotten the information of his win from so efficiently. “How was the tournament? I’m sorry I couldn’t—“

“Sure, sure, but I bet Cheese here is pretty glad you were home,” Art said and stood up with one final pat to Cheese’s flank. “The whole thing was great. I… I’m kind of surprised I won, if I’m being honest.” Art said, wrapping an arm around [Y/N]’s waist.

Naturally, her hands flattened against his toned chest when he tugged her towards him. “I’m not. You’re fucking good at tennis, Art.”

His ears reddened in embarrassment as he tucked his face into [Y/N]’s neck to hide his face. Art was used to praise and loved it more than anything, no matter where it came from. Every compliment from [Y/N] was worth a hell of a lot more. Art hated thinking about why that was the case. He knew why, though. She had seen he and Patrick play and even then thought Art was good. Art still won the match when it came to [Y/N] and he would never tell her that.

“Hush…” He mumbled into her neck, planting a biting, teasing kiss there. She laughed. He laughed. “I played against an eighteen year old kid yesterday. He played really well,” Art leaned back to look at her again. “You saw, I’m sure,” he indicated the TV with a nod. “He would’ve won this weekend if I hadn’t won that match. Just… I’m twenty-six. Made me feel old.”

“…Glad you won, then.”

“I said if I hadn’t…”

“Well, if you’re sooooo down on your win then congrats on flying home all by yourself like a big boy.” [Y/N] smirked.

“Oh, you’re gonna be like that, huh?” Art withdrew his hands from his wife’s body and put them teasingly on his own hips.

[Y/N] nodded. “Yeah. If you’re old, imagine how I feel.”

“Ancient, probably.”

Art leaned in for another kiss. She pushed him back playfully. “No! You called me old!” [Y/N] laughed.

She leaned one way, then the other to avoid Art’s beautifully wrinkled nose and smiling mouth. “Please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You’re-you’re not old!” Art said and attempted to trap her with his arms and give her a kiss.

[Y/N] turned hard over her shoulder and ran up the stairs. Cheese gave a woof from the couch when Art chased after her. Art spent his life chasing after her.

“No! You can’t kiss me! Doghouse! Bad Art! Bad!” [Y/N] accused jokingly. Art jumped up the stairs. He took them two and three at a time.

Art backed her against the bathroom door. Nowhere left to run. His rough hands settled on her hips. “Gotcha. You’re pretty fast for an old lady, y’know. Late for bingo, or—“ Art smirked when he leaned in to kiss her.

[Y/N] shut him up with a kiss. She had missed his stupid boy babbling. His mouth was soft against hers. Art put one of his hands on the wooden door beside her face to hold himself up. The other hand found her belt loop, keeping her body close to his.

“I love you,” Art whispered between kisses. “I love you so much, honey. I missed you.”

[Y/N]’s head leaned back against the door with a soft thud. Her breath caught in her throat. “I love you t—mmh!” Art leaned in for another kiss.

The joy of being Art Donaldson’s wife was that he never got tired of touching her, or being physically close. Sometimes, [Y/N] would look over at him while she was writing, or making dinner, and he would be staring, or slowly extending his hand to her and seeing how long it took for [Y/N] to acknowledge his presence. It never ceased to make her feel beautiful. “Can we…” his fingers danced over the button on her jeans.

“Can we what…?” She asked coyly.

Art blushed, but smirked and lowered his lips by [Y/N] ear. “Can we fuck? Please?” He asked too politely for as dirty as those words were. Like the good midwestern boy that he was.

She tipped her head back further. Art kissed her neck with all the energy he could muster. “Can I not make you dinner first? You-you a cheap whore as well as old now, too?” [Y/N] jeered. Art snorted a laugh. The warm air from the giggle spread over [Y/N]’s skin, causing goosebumps to raise. “I’m never letting you leave home alone again, then.”

Art nodded against her skin, sucking and licking a spot they both new would bruise dark. The sound she let out was absolutely disgusting and Art loved it. “I would prefer to never be let out of your sight, personally.” He said when he pulled away.

“Come on, house boy… We’re havin’ dinner. And you’re gonna eat some bread,” [Y/N] said, pointing a finger at Art’s chest. He started to put up a fight about the ultra-low nonexistent amount of inactive carbs he was eating during the season, but [Y/N] kept chattering. “Stop talking. Your brain doesn’t work right without carbs. Braindead. Come on, dinner.”

“You’re bad for me.”

“I know.” [Y/N] smiled.

Normally, [Y/N] drank a cup of coffee when the pair made dinner. Art knew the pattern. He made her the cup of coffee every time. It sat mostly unfinished that night, though. She found herself heating and reheating it in the microwave as they cooked. She started to space out as he recapped the tournament in full detail, as she requested. If Art noticed, he didn’t let on. [Y/N] noticed, though. Little stood between her and coffee. She didn’t want to drink it. That was violently unusual.

“Hey, I’m gonna go piss. Can you—“

“Watch the sauce?” Art asked, indicating the creamy pesto she had on the stove while Art cleaned and cut vegetables.

“Mhm.” [Y/N] confirmed. Art slid over to take the spoon from her. He placed a hand at the bottom of her back as she walked away. Art fit perfectly into her life. It wasn’t fair how right he was for her.

She went to the upstairs bathroom instead of the downstairs one. She hoped that didn’t set off Art’s sixth sense about the way-things-had-to-be. Once upstairs, [Y/N] wasted no time yanking open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. It was overflowing, naturally. Makeup, supplements, condoms, hair ties, pill bottles, loose painkillers. It was a disaster. There was also a pregnancy test.

A laughing Art had given it to [Y/N] as a joke the morning after their wedding night and she had hit him hard enough to bruise across the chest. The test sat wrapped and in the box behind the mirror every day since. Just in case.

[Y/N] had officially arrived at just in case.

She gingerly tossed the empty box under the sink so Art wouldn’t see it without looking for it. Then, [Y/N] undid the buttons on her overalls and, well, took the test.

Lacking the time to sit and watch it come back positive or negative, [Y/N] tossed the clean cap on the stick, slid it into the pocket of her overalls, washed her hands and went downstairs like nothing was wrong.

Except she knew something was wrong. Now she felt like she had a loaded gun in her pocket. She was too cautious with her movements due to the fear that the test would slip out of her front right pocket in front of Art.

She was damn near about to step into the pantry and shut the door just to see if the pee stick had one line or two. If he wasn’t already suspicious, that would do it. [Y/N] felt that the anxiety created was easily the worst anxiety she had ever had. Oops.

[Y/N] got quiet. She was talking less and listening more. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but she was a chatterbox. Art would notice her blanched face and wrinkled brow eventually, she worried.

Ever the perceptive bastard, Art did. When he sat beside [Y/N] at the counter to eat a bowl of pasta with more inactive carbs than he had eaten in six months, he kept cutting his eyes at her. His bare foot nudged her ankle. Her dish was relatively untouched. “You good, babe? You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You are being weird because you’re not being you. I’ve barely asked you how you’re doing with all the excitement. Long day?” Art asked, setting down his fork to drag his hand across the back of her shoulders.

“Yeah, a bit.” [Y/N] said. What she meant to say was I have a pregnancy test and I bet it is positive in my pocket right now and I’m so terrified that I can practically smell my pit stains right now, baby. But she didn’t say that.

Art spun to face her, taking in her expression and demeanor. There was that contemplative knot perched between his eyebrows. The back of his hand landed calmly on [Y/N]’s forehead to check her temperature. “Art…” [Y/N] said, pushing his hand down.

“No, hang on.” Art said firmly. He tried to put his hand back on her face. Instead, not having a clue what it said, [Y/N] reached into her front right pocket and slammed the pregnancy test down between them. Art retracted his hand and flinched back a bit at the sudden movement. The test was face down on the counter.

Art’s eyes cut from the test back to her. His face was suddenly very solemn. “Are you—“

“—I dunno. I didn’t-I couldn’t look. It’s been in my pocket for twenty minutes. No idea.”

“Do you think you are?”

[Y/N] shrugged and looked at her bowl. It looked too green. sick sick sick. drip drip drip said the faucet.

“Do you want to know if you are?” Art asked wide-eyed. “I want to know, personally. Do… Do you?”

Again, [Y/N] shrugged. “If we don’t look, it’s not real.”

“…That’s stupid.” Art shook his head.

“You’re stupid.”

Art sighed. “I’m gonna look. I mean, I’m going to turn it over,” his eyes frantically reached for [Y/N]’s. He grabbed her hand with his to get her attention. “I’m going to look. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah.” She whispered and it was okay.

And she was pregnant.

Two blue lines stared at them.

“Fuck.” [Y/N] said. She felt both elated and humiliated. She wanted so badly to be a mother. She wanted to cry. How could they keep it? The timing was wrong. She hadn’t agreed to this. The two of them had so many fights about it. She barely understood how this happened. She thought they were being so careful. It didn’t make any sense. Every precaution she could think of had been taken at one point or another.

And the fucking faucet was still dripping. She could hear it. drip drip drip. Over and over.

“Fuck.” She said sliding out of her chair and standing unsteadily. That wasn’t the result one should feel when they get something they have spent so long wanting.

Art ran his hands through his hair. He knew he shouldn’t be smiling when she looked so worried. His face betrayed the wide smile he hoped to hide. That’s exactly what he wanted to see. Fuck.

“Honey… Hey, hey. You’re okay. This is awesome. C’mere.” Art said like he was diffusing a bomb. His arm were wide open to hold her.

“Art…”

“No, uh-uh. Just come here. Please.”

Cautiously, [Y/N] made her way into her favorite pair of arms in the world. “It’s not supposed to be like this.” [Y/N] choked out as Art held her.

“Shh, I know, I know,” Art said calmly. His left hand’s fingers brushed her hair away from her face. “But that’s how it is now. We have to accept that and solve for the next move, right?” It was silent for a while after that. [Y/N]’s arms were tightly wrapped around Art’s shoulders and their bowls of pasta were certainly cold. She felt that she had ruined everything.

She glanced at Art’s face. The small smile betrayed him. “Art… We can’t. Not now.” she had told Art not now so many times that it felt forced and rehearsed. Now that [Y/N] that was actually pregnant, she wanted nothing more than to stay pregnant. The timing was far from good. She had articles that were still very due the next day. She had a husband who very much traveled often for work (who she traveled with too). She had Cheese, who was staring at her weird over the back the couch because he didn’t understand crying.

“What do you mean we can’t?” Art said quietly. “We-We can. We… have. We are… Actively.” He fumbled.

“We can. We did! But… You know now’s not a good time, baby.” [Y/N] countered weakly.

Art’s hands never left [Y/N]’s waist. “Let’s run pros and cons.”

“Pretty baby.” She said accusatorially. Good old analytic Art…

“Let’s run pros and cons.” Art repeated unflinchingly. He sprang up off of his barstool to gather a sharpie and a legal pad from some drawer. Art uncapped the marker harshly with his teeth. Cap between his teeth still, he asked: “Do you want it?” while he found a clean, smooth page.

Before she could respond with her head, [Y/N] responded with her heart. She nodded a yes to him immediately. “Do you?”

Art capped the back end of the marker to free up his mouth. “More than anything ever, I think. It would probably kill me a little bit, actually, if… Yeah. I understand and it’s all up to you, honey, but… Yeah.” His hand created a PRO column and a CON column on the page.

Under PRO, Art added the items he knew would cause no trouble in his blocky capitalized handwriting:

FINALLY START FAMILY

NATURAL/EASY START

SEASON ALMOST OVER

[Y/N] HAS FLEXIBLE HRS

DREAM COME TRUE??

WILL BE GR8 PARENTS

[Y/N] nodded in approval. She couldn’t think of more pros, but Art handed her the marker and she started in on the CON list:

OLYMPICS??

ART’S NEVER HOME

EXPENSIVE

SMOKING/COFFEE

CHEESE JEALOUS?

TOO YOUNG!

Art drew the line at giving up stimulants and assigning the dog human traits and struck both of those off the list with a frown.

Frankly, Art thought the cons list turned out rude.

“I haven’t qualified for the Olympics yet,” he protested. “And if I do, imagine how early on that would be. Before all the hard stuff.”

[Y/N] replied with the thing they both knew was the most real problem. She had waited forever to say it out loud. “No offense… You are never home anymore. You’re busy all the time. Which I get. It’s your job. You’re good at your job. But look how excited the fuckin’ dog got to see you because you were gone so long. You are never here. We can’t put a human in doggy day camp all the time. It would be fucking impossible to raise—“

“I’ll quit,” Art said, wincing. He wouldn’t. [Y/N] felt that this was a bluff. He tried in vain to hide his expression of shame. “I’ll quit tennis.” He said. He wasn’t going to.

“That would worsen the problem. No money.”

“I’ll work at the 7/11. I’ll be a construction worker. I could be a fuckin’ coach. I actually have a degree, y’know, I can use it. I’m more than a racket. I don’t want you to feel alone here. I want to be here for all of it, I can—“

“You know I’m alone here a lot, babe. A lot. You don’t… You’re in a position where you’re unable to help constantly. Because you’re gone. That’s okay. I married you knowing that, right? But a baby, Art? That’s not fair.”

“I’ll bail on a season. I will. I just…” Art stared at her. “Please. I’m begging you. See this kid through with me.”

The sharpie was forgotten on the counter along with dinner. Art’s knees landed on the floor before [Y/N]. Art practically lived on his knees in front of [Y/N]. He gathered [Y/N] hands in his. “Please. It’s your call, but hear me out. Because that thing is part of both us. I don’t want you to hate or resent me or the little stinker forever, but you want it. I know that. Hear me out.” His beautiful two-tone eyes stared up at her.

“Fine. Go ahead.”

“I will give you anything. Please, my world is you. Not tennis; you. I’m telling you, I-I would leave that behind to be anything you need right now. Just ask it. You’re my fucking priority, you got that? I just.. I… Please? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want to keep it too, but—“

“Then what’s the big deal?” Art asked hopefully.

“It isn’t a good time. It’s too soon.”

Art’s mouth trailed kisses across his wife’s stomach and hips and hands and arms. He let this go on for several minutes. “Please,” Art whimpered pathetically into the skin of her wrist. “Please, please, please. I will do anything, my love. I’m on my knees here,” Art looked up at her through thick lashes. “We can do this. Both of us together. I’ll do whatever you want. You know I will. This can be good for us. I’m really sorry we’re here, but here we are, hon. What time’s going to be the right time? Please. I love you.” Art pleaded desperately.

[Y/N] knew this was going to be a disaster. But she wanted to keep it. What time’s going to be the right time? rung in her ears over and over, like the faucet. They had put so much time into arguing about the time and the place that would be right for a family. Now it was right in front of them. Her hand caressed Art’s face. She loved it when he groveled like that. This time, on his knees and everything. On instinct, he nuzzled his face into her hand and looked up at her through long lashes.

“Will you fix the faucet? It’s been dripping all week.”

“Anything.”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it. I’m going to think about it. The baby.”

“You will?” Art’s teary eyes widened.

“Objectively, this is a terrible fucking idea. We both know that. But if it’s really so terrible, why do I feel, like… happy about it…”

Art’s face lit up. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. [Y/N], honestly, found it very hard to say no to Art. His arms wrapped carefully around her thighs while his head rested against her middle as he knelt. [Y/N] could feel his silver ring through the denim of her overalls. “God, I love you. I love you, [Y/N]. We’re not going to regret this. Holy shit…”

“Love you too. We’re gonna… We’re gonna try, maybe? This doesn’t feel real. Does this feel real? I…”

“It feels like a dream is what it feels like,” Art mumbled into her clothes. “I love you.” Art said, pressing a kiss to her stomach.

“I love you.”

“I’m gonna be a dad…” Art almost wept. “If you, y’know, but… Shit. I’m sorry.” Which part he was apologizing for was unclear.

At that, [Y/N] laughed and tangled her fingers in his curly blonde mop of hair. “Yeah, you’re gonna be a fucking dad, pretty baby.” She smiled.

[Y/N]’s next instinct was to say: I have to call Patrick. Then she remembered couldn’t call Patrick.

TAGLIST (ask to join):

@diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @shysstuff @soberbabes @avylanchce

apologies for tag issues. i’ll dm those it didn’t work for!

[becomingmina]

thanks for the clarification ♡

so here is the thought I had

hyunjin and reader being each other's crush but absolutely idiotic about it so they don't know the other's feelings

they have common friends that are sick of the tension between the two. one decides to tell hyunjin, the other suggests the reader to do something to make hyunjin jealous so she can find out if he likes her. (boring I know)

one time when everyone's around, she flirts with jisung or something idk and she gets too touchy so hyunjin is annoyed af. pulls her away to somewhere private and voila, they've confessed in the best way possible 😌🌸

CRUSH. anon request w/ HYUNJIN.

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: hyunjin x female reader genre + warnings: friends to lovers, smut mdni!, oral (both f & m receiving), hyunjin calls reader kitten, semi-public wc: 5.4k mina's note: Anon also wanted to throw ‘kitten’ in it (my fav pet name 👀) Also I really enjoyed writing this & love how much details you put on the request!! My box is open for feedback 💓

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

You don’t know how you got in this situation but here you are; staring at your friend who is currently playing basketball, topless. Well, you’re more like drooling over him.

He just looked so good, so hot. His tall, lean, milky body just running around on the court covered in a thin layer of sweat. Normally you hate the thought of sweat, but it works for him. It works well for Hwang Hyunjin, actually. He even looks like he smells nice too. You watch as he laughs at the other players, hogging the ball like the main character in some high school drama. Your eyes waver from his pretty smile to his muscular arms to his piercing, which is sitting so perfectly under his eyebrow, then to his burgundy hair.

You pay attention the beads of sweat that trickles from his hair to his chest, dripping down his body. You gulped when you see them land on the area just underneath his belly button. You completely loss your sanity as your eyes covered that area. His treasure trail? Happy trail? Whatever people called it. Why was it so sexy on Hyunjin?

You quickly look away before anyone catches you; you shouldn’t be looking at him like that. Hyunjin is your friend.

When you meet him two years ago in your first year of college, he was just some guy in class you become friends with. He is good looking, but you didn’t find him attractive. There was no chemistry, no tension, no feelings. You don’t know how it started but you find yourself thinking about him every other hour of the day now. You would freeze when someone else mentions his name, blush when he was in close proximity of you and even stutter when he speaks to you.

“Hey.. Hey Y/N,” a voice snapping you out of your thoughts, followed by a nudge on your shoulder.

“Hm?” You answered, unaware of who was even calling out to you. You turn your head and there he was, your crush Hwang Hyunjin crouching down next to you, smiling at your blank reaction. You’re used to him towering over you since he was way taller than you but to have him crouched down like this looking at you makes you feel a bit.. timid.

“I’m going to borrow this,” he says dangling your fresh hand towel in-front of you. Oh yeah, the hand towel you carry around in your bag just in case your physical education professor makes you participate in class. The one you won’t let anyone use or even touch.

When they say having a crush makes you do crazy stuff, they do mean it. You were quick to lean him it.

“Huh.. uhh yeah, sure,” you answered, eyes travelling from your towel to his face again.

When you realised you’ve been staring at him longer than you should have, you cough and drop eye contact, making Hyunjin gulped a little bit too loud. “I don’t need it anyways you can keep—”

“—I’ll return it,” he says with a smile. “I’ll wash it first of-course.” You nod your head quietly as you gather up your belongings, getting ready to go to your next class.

“Come on Hyunjin, we are going to be late for class!” Chan, the oldest out of the friend group, calls out to him.

“So.. I’ll see you at lunch then?” Hyunjin says after noticing your quietness.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at lunch,” you mumbled, shooting him a quick glance.

“Bye bro,” Hyunjin says to Minho, giving him a handshake before collecting his bag and going off with Chan.

Minho chuckles at the scene that just unfolded in-front of him; two of his best friends obviously crushing on one another but no one is making a move. Well, it’s not really you and Hyunjin’s fault since you guys don’t know about the other person’s feelings.

“You know he likes you right?” Minho blurted out and you turn your head to his direction.

“Who?” You answered nervously. Did Minho just witness everything?

“Hyunjin,” Minho replies with raised eyebrows, his smug a little bit too cocky for your liking today. You rolled your eyes at him but underneath your skin, you are hot, flustered, embarrassed.

“No way!” you denied. Hyunjin could never like you, he only saw you as a friend.

“He does—”

You scoffed a little bit too fast.

“Do you not see the way he looks at you Y/N?” You can’t tell if Minho was being serious or not.

Minho does have a history of being a joker which makes you think he’s just pranking you. But he also is a very honest friend, he would never joke around with stuff that could potentially hurt you.

“Uhhhh—” you hesitantly reply.

Minho takes in a loud breath, “—I don’t know if you’re genuinely dense or you just don’t want to admit it.”

“He doesn’t like me,” you answered.

“He does,” Minho turns his head behind to look at Hyunjin and you followed. You watch as the two made their way across the field, Chan wrapping his arms around Hyunjin’s shoulder trying to snatch your towel away from him.

“Oh, you don’t want to give it to me because that’s your girl’s towel?” Chan laughs, basically choking Hyunjin at this point.

“She’s.. she’s not.. my girl..” Hyunjin softly replies in a cough, not sure if he was actually being choked by Chan’s big arms or by choking up at you being called his girl.

“She’s not your girl.. yet?” The older boy teased.

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin questioned, hoping Chan didn’t see through him.

Chan looked back at you and Minho who was still sitting by the basketball court. You swiftly turn back to Minho, hoping Chan didn’t catch you starring at Hyunjin.

“Trust me,” Minho said with his smug face, raising his brow to the older boy across the field. “You know how to tell if he likes you?”

You stay quiet. You were curious but didn’t want to seem like it, so you just raised your eyebrow. Tell me, tell me Lee Minho!

“Make him jealous,” Minho says lifting his chin to Jisung who was currently surrounded by a group of girls shoving their gym towel into his face.

You know what Minho was referring to; that’s how Felix ended up with Nayeon. Minho suggested to Nayeon to make Felix jealous by sitting next to Jisung at some dinner since he was such a girl magnet. Next thing you know she was pulled away from the table by Felix and they have been together ever since.

You scoffed. It sure worked for them, but you weren’t going to use Jisung like that; he was your friend.

“I’m not going to use Han-Ji like that,” you replied.

“Okay look..” he blinks a little too hard at you. “Just use Han-Ji.. He is also as tired as we all are of you and Hyunjin’s….” He pauses. “..tension..”

“Who is we?” You asked confused.

Who else has been noticing your little crush on Hyunjin? Is what you really wanted to ask your best friend, but you don’t.

“..And there’s no tension between me and Hyunjin.. I don’t know what you talking about,” deny deny deny.

“Everyone in the friend group can feel the tension, you idiot,” the nickname causing you to pout. “Felix, Bin, Min, Lia—”

“—Hyunjin doesn’t like me.”

“Bet?” He was too quick with this. “I’ll let you have bragging rights if he doesn’t like you. But I get the bragging rights if he does,” he suggested.

“Huh, what?” Both of them sound bad to you. Why would you be happy with bragging rights if Hyunjin doesn’t like you back? It would sting you! And if by chance Hyunjin likes you back, you would hate to deal with Minho’s telling the whole campus he was cupid. What the hell was Minho on?

“What?” He laughed after noticing your face, full of displeasure. “I mean, the worst that could happen is he doesn’t like you back.. But then that means you get bragging rights?” Minho laughs tilting his head to the side. He can read you well.

“Dude you’re insufferable!” You rolled your eyes. He was still looking at you with his smirk.. Oh wait. “What do you mean like me back? I don’t like him,” you denied, it but wasn’t fast enough, he had caught you.

“Sure.. I know everything. Come on, trust me. I’m your best friend,” Minho nudges your shoulders. “Remember the party this weekend? How you rather sit at home and do nothing. Well maybe you should just come. We haven’t seen you out in a while.. Come, and be prettier than this..” he says looking down at your gym wear. You were in baggy sweat shorts and an even baggier t-shirt. “And I’ll help you get with him-”

“—Hey!” you shove his shoulder back. “What’s wrong with me now?!” You look down at your attire. It was gym class anyways of course you would be in this, even if you don’t participate.

“What? Nothing,” he answers playfully. “Come on, we going to be late to our next class!” Minho gets up before opening up his hand to help you up.  “Han-ji, we’re late!”

It was lunch time and you and Han-Ji ditched Minho to go down to the college’s local bakery to get some lunch.

“You’re totally not coming to the party?” Minho asked Hyunjin who was sat at the lunch table, eating his huge burrito. Seungmin, Felix and Chan were also there chiming into the conversation.

“Who’s going?” Hyunjin asked, a mouth full.

“Just the usual.. us. So, Chris, Bin, Jeongin, Yeji.. and then half of the third years are invited,” Hyunjin doesn’t look too interested. Don’t get the wrong idea, he loves his friends and parties, but he had also seen them every single day on campus, so he had no fear of missing out.

“…oh and Y/N says she’s going to come too,” Minho blurted, playing full attention to his friends reaction.

Hyunjin’s ears perks up at your name, his cheeks suddenly growing pink as he looks back at Minho.

“Actually.. I’ll come. Haven’t been had fun in a while,” Hyunjin drops the eye contact when he notices Minho’s sneer. “You want me to bring anything?” Hyunjin continues a little twitchy, playing with his food.

Minho just laughs. This was getting too exciting for him. “Bring your courage!” The rest of the boys laughed.

“What?” Hyunjin asked, narrowing his eyes at the crowd.

“You like Y/N, don’t you?” Seungmin exclaimed catching Hyunjin by surprised.

“Umm...” Hyunjin freezes. He doesn’t know how to answer. Of course, he likes you, but he didn’t want to admit knowing the boys were definitely going to tease him even more for it. But he didn’t want to say no just in case they spin it around to say he doesn’t like you at all as a friend.  

“Don’t worry bro, she likes you too,” Minho break the silence. Hyunjin’s heart stop at his best friend’s words. He didn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t that.

“Really? She likes me back?” Hyunjin replies promptly, a sheer smile pulling on his face. He was definitely blushing.  

“Back.. So you do like her?” Chan torments Hyunjin again and Hyunjin’s smile slowly faded form his face. They had caught him too.   

“Hey Y/N!” Felix calls out and the rest of the boys look over Hyunjin’s shoulder. He wanted to spin back to check but he didn’t want the boys to play more into his eagerness, so he just freezes looking straight at them.

“Hi Lix!” Your voice calls from behind him.

“Come here! Hurry!” Felix continues to make conversation with you.

“Bro just ask her out already, we’re all tired of the tension,” Chan quickly expresses.

“What tension?” Hyunjin was desperate to see what they had to say before you got to the table.

“Sexual tension,” Seungmin whispers and everyone goes silence, pressing their lips trying to hold back their smile.

“There’s no tension between me and—”

“—Okay you say there’s so tension? I guess Han-Ji can make his move then,” Minho interrupted, surprising Hyunjin again.

“Does Han-Ji likes Y/N—"

“—Shh she’s behind you,” Chan shushes the younger boy up before he could finish his sentence.

“Hey..” Hyunjin says timidly before you could even sit down.

“Hey..” you replied back, climbing over the bench so you can sit next to him. The whole group watches as Hyunjin blushed at your proximity. “Sit here,” you pat the area on the other side of you for Jisung to sit.

“Coffee and pastries for lunch? That place is like a 10 minute walk,” Chan askes from across the table.

“It’s okay, Han-ji keeps me company,” you say as you nudge Jisung a little bit and you both open up your pastry bag.

Hyunjin glances at you from aside, he stays quiet.

Hyunjin doesn’t know how to feel. He didn’t expect his boys to catch on about his feelings for you and he didn’t expect Minho to blurt out that you like him back. Hyunjin is also confused after seeing how close Han-Ji is to you too, he never really questions your close relationship until now. Does Han-Ji actually like you? Thoughts flood his brain as he continues to eat his burrito.  

You rushed home from your last Friday class to get ready for the party. You threw on one of your mini sun dress, pairing it up with some sandals and a cross body bag before collecting your black cardigan and rushing out to Yeji who was ready in the living room waiting to do some pre-party shots with you.

You and Yeji tipsy-ly made it to the loudest house on the street. Lee Minho’s residency. It was only 8pm and it was already crowded. She held your hand and clumsy pulls you through dim-lit hallways packed with people before reaching the living room. There they were, all of your friends in the living room with a drink in their hand, conversing with one another.  

“There they are!” Seungmin yells as he sees you and his girlfriend. He quickly makes his way to rip Yeji off you, pulling her into the kitchen to get a drink.

“Wow, my best friend finally came to one of my parties!” Minho appears out of no where handing you a beer.

“I was here two months ago Min..” You playfully rolled your eyes. “When you and Nayeon vomited everywhere and me and Felix had to bathe you guys.. naked,” you refreshed his memory.

“I remember.. Crazy night..” Minho laughs. He stops to look you up and down before grabbing your shoulders. “Very pretty Y/N. You planning to make someone jealous?” He complimented before getting back to his little mischiefs.

“Maybe,” you answered looking around the room. You hadn’t seen Hyunjin yet and Minho notices.

“Your boy is hella tipsy by the way, he keeps telling me he’s nervous but won’t tell me why,” Minho informs you.

“He’s not my boy.”

“Sure.. okay, anyways so not your boy is currently staring at you from behind,” Minho also announced as he stares at Hyunjin from over your shoulder.

Hyunjin’s heart stops at your presence. He has always found you pretty but tonight, he found you extremely gorgeous. Maybe because tonight was the night, he was going to let you know about his feelings. He takes another sip of his drink, pondering how he’s going to pull you away. He wanted to find the perfect timing, he didn’t want to do it too early just in case you reject him, and he has to go home early.

He watches you as you make your way to Jisung who was currently sat on the tiniest fucking armchair he had ever seen.

“Han-Ji!” You were going to follow Minho’s instructions; you either leave tonight with Hyunjin or rejected by Hyunjin but with bragging rights.

“Hey Y/N, you look like you had a couple of drinks already,” Jisung says as he touches his owns cheeks to indicate where your pink complexion was. You nodded bashfully to your friend before getting up on the arm of the chair to sit.

“It’s wet there, I just spilled my drink there. Come here,” Jisung stops you before you could sit. He pulled your arm so you can squeeze next to him on the tiny fucking armchair. You hope Hyunjin was watching.

“You okay?” Jisung asks cupping your face to lean your head against his shoulder - he knows how tired you get when you drink.

“Mhmm,” you closed your eyes as you continue to converse with your friend.

Hyunjin was still watching everything from the other side of the room. His hand was wrapped around his drink tightly, expressing his annoyance at the skin-ship and at himself for not pulling you away the second you got here, like he wasn’t waiting all night just for you to arrive. He starts to feel a little jealous now that your attention is on Han-Ji. And maybe Minho was right, and Han-Ji does have feelings for you.

He had to do it. He had to pull you away and ask why you hadn’t noticed his feelings for you all this time. He feels himself grow hot, he was feeling tense.

Hyunjin takes in a deep breath before downing the drink, squeezing his cup on the process. The plastic from the red cup causes disturbance making the boys turn their head at their friend.

“You good, pretty boy?” Changbin asks noticing the change in Hyunjin’s demeanour, taking the red cup out of his hand.

“Yeah, just need some air,” Hyunjin says running a hand through his fluffy red hair as he makes his way to you.

“Can we talk?” Someone askes from above you and you instantly open your eyes, locking eyes with them.

You feel your heart skip a beat as you finally see him. He had on some baggy jeans with a black t-shirt, one sleeved rolled up complementing his muscular arm. God, he looked so hot; you feel yourself drooling over him again.

“Okay.” You answered softly.

“Come,” he says, grabbing a hold of your hand making you get up from the chair. You heart start to flutter at his brace. Was it happening now? Is Hyunjin jealous?

He guides you through the crowd of people in the living room before dragging you up the stairs and towards Minho’s bedroom. He lets you enter first before locking the door behind him.

Your eyes wonder around Minho’s bedroom - his room was dark, quite clean, quite quiet for such a loud guy. You scoff to yourself quietly at the contrast. As you spin around the room, Hyunjin watches you and smiles at your cuteness before getting back to his senses of why he pulled you here in the first place.

“Are you drunk?” He asked suddenly.

“Hmm? Not quite yet,” you answered, making your way into Minho’s ensuite. “Why?” You asked so he can follow you, just testing the waters.

You placed your bag on the counter before digging through it trying to find your lipstick.

“What are you doing then?” Hyunjin asked towering behind you looking at you through the mirror.

“What do you mean?” You glance up at him to ask before going through your bag again, acting like you had no idea what was going on, even though your heart was beating just as fast as his.

“What were you doing up on Han-Ji like that?” Yep, he saw everything.

“I wasn’t on him?” You lied.

“Y/N.” He was getting a little be frustrated at your replies, you were obviously up to something.

“Why does it matter to you anyways—”

“—It’s making me jealous.” Hyunjin interrupted you making you glance up at him again. Minho’s plan was working. Minho was right.

You spin around to face him and finally, you can feel the tension everyone was talking about. He likes you. You feel your heart beating rapidly as he stares into your eyes. Your breathing becomes heavier as he takes another step towards you. You try to keep eye contact just to see if he drops it first, but he doesn’t. Your eyes drop first, to his lips then up to his eyes then back to his lips. They looked so full, so soft. Wouldn’t be crazy if you guys just kissed?

“Hyunjin?” You say above a whisper, lips forming into a pout right after. Hyunjin found you so precious looking up at him like this.

His resting face rapidly turns into a smirks now as he watches your eyes flicker to his lips. He knew what you wanted; he knows how you feel now. “Hmm?” He questioned, just to tease you a little bit.

“Can you just kiss me already?” You say, not begging but with a hint of desperation. You like him and you just confirmed he likes you, what were you guys waiting for?

He chuckles before his hand comes up to your face, cupping it for a second then he leans and kisses you. His lips felt so soft, so warm just like how you imagined them felt. You couldn’t explain the feeling, it was like you were in dream, it’s incredible.

Soon Hyunjin deepens the kiss, letting his tongue enter your mouth as one of his hand keeps your face in place, the other snaked down your body to your waist. Your tongue swiped against his lips, and you tasted a bit of lemonade and tequila. If this was a way to drink tequila, then you were all for it.

“Up,” he pulls away to say and you listen jumping onto the counter with the help of his grip. You spread your legs so he can stand in between them. He looks at you in awe, he couldn’t control his smile.

“You didn’t answer me..” he says as his hands find their way under your dress just resting on your thighs.

“Hm?” You whimpered, wanting his lips back on yours.

“What were you doing up on Han-Ji like that?” Hyunjin asked again, a little lower, a little more raspier now that he’s more confident to dominate you.

“To make you jealous,” you whisper back to him, admitting to all your little shenanigans.

“Why?” He couldn’t hold back his smile.

“To see if you like me back.” You say, and his ears perked up at your words.

“You got your answer?”

“Mhmm..” you admit.

“Good.”

“But.. want to hear you say it,” you reply cheekily, your arms coming to wrap around his shoulders to pull him close to you so your lips are barely touching.

He lets out an airy breath before pressing a kiss to your lips, letting it linger on for a little bit just to make your heart flutter once more for him. “I like you,” he says, and you try to conceal the smile pulling up on your face. “Happy?”

“Yes.”

“Where were we?” Hyunjin says and you pull him back onto you.

Maybe it was the pent up sexual tension you both had been holding in as, as soon as your lips were connected again, it became again heated. His hands are fondling with your thighs, and his tongue is slipped back down your mouth. You feel a hot sensation making its way to your core, a moan slipping from your lips. He smirked in between the kisses, his hands inching up higher now hiking you dress up.

Hyunjin continues his kisses down your neck, and you tilt your head back, letting him cover more area with his lips.

As he harshly sucks on your neck, your hands start to explore his body, caressing up and down his chest, down his covered stomach. You slowly creep them lower to his hard on that was pressing against the counter, begging to be touch. He lets out a groan at the contact.

“Hyunjin?” you whimpered at how stiff he was. You both wanted more but not on this cold bathroom counter. “Are we actually doing this here?” You ask.

“Where else would you do it?” Hyunjin looks down at you his a raised eyebrow, his hands stopping at your hips.

You look around before cheekily suggesting, “Minho’s bed,” and he cracks up.

“Come,” he takes a step back to hold your hand as you jump off the counter.

Hyunjin pulls you back onto him as he sat back on Minho’s bed - it was comfier than he expected, it was actually quite comfy to fuck on actually.

“You’re such a good kisser, it making me so horny,” He says, gripping your thighs so you’re straddling him. You feel his hard-on abusing your core and you become like jelly, draping yourself onto him. God, it was also making you so horny.

Are you both really gonna fuck in your best friend’s bed? Probably.

“Hyunjin?” You start to suck on his neck, returning the marks he gave you. “Wanna blow you… can I?” You asked, rolling your hips onto his.

He sucks in a sharp breath at the pleasure, halting your hips. “Fuck— kitten..” The pet name slipping from his lips, making you stop whatever you were doing to look him in the eyes. Did he just call you kitten? And did you like it?

“Yeah? Wanna be a good kitten? And suck me off right here in your best-friend room?” He teased after seeing your eyes lit up at the name.

“Yes.. wanna be a good kitten,” you replied, lifting his shirt to slowly to expose his abs, your hand lazily runs across his milky body.

You shuffled back, kneeling down by the bed before peeking at his happy trail. You finally got to see it up close, and you didn’t waste anytime before attaching your lips to it. Hyunjin’s hand flung to hold onto your hair and he lets out a groan as you suck the skin around his navel.

“You’re just like a kitten, nipping into me like that,” he moans.

“You love it,” you teased him.

“Yeah I do..” he confesses breathlessly. “Couldn’t stop thinking back to gym class yesterday.. how you eyed it all lesson..” Oh, so he caught you staring but didn’t say anything?

“Was it driving you insane?” He torments and you murmured nodding your head.

“God, kitten… need your mouth now, I’m might cum untouched,” he begs and you chuckle, blowing hot air from your mouth at his skin causing him to flinch.

You give him what he wants. You undo his jeans, shimmering it down his thighs before palming him through his boxer.

“Y/N, please..” he begs again, closing his eyes to hold in his release.

“You’re so big,” you say the second you pull down his boxer letting his red rock solid dick slap across his stomach. You didn’t expect him to be him to be this big, this thick. You gulp at it before wrapping your hands around him. “Wanna taste..” you blabbered as you brought his tip to your lips.

Hyunjin’s head kick back as you wrap your lips around his head. His hands gripped your hair tightly as he starts to set the pace, and you let him. He pushes you down taking half his length into your mouth before guiding you back up. You moan as he slides down your mouth, unable to control the pleasure you were having from just giving him head. Once you go match his pace, Hyunjin lets go of his grip and runs his through your hair, endlessly praising you as he tries to keeps himself together.

“You’re so good—” he sucks in another breath.

You take him fully into your mouth and gagged once he hits the back of your throat. “Ahh, cuming- cuming—” he lets out a low grunt as he paints your throat white. You swallow the warm thick liquid before letting go of him with a pop.

“Kitten, you’re so perfect. Such a good mouth,” he says finding your arm and pulling up to sit on his lap.

“Can I return the favour?” His hand wrapped around your hips, his finger carefully gathering the fabric of your skirt so he can expose your panties.

“I don’t know if I can keep quiet Hyunjin,” you admitted. You can still hear the loud music outside, even if it was muffled by the walls but a part of you’re still afraid someone might hear you. You couldn’t even keep it in while making out, nor sucking him off, you don’t know how you’ll be if you guys actually have sex.

“But I can’t leave you high like this,” Hyunjin replies, his two fingers just touching the fabric of your panties that was getting soaked by your wetness. You kick your head back at the pleasures “I just know you’re wet from sucking me off.. Let me, let me just eat you out..” he begged, his eyes turned dark full of lust.

“Please,” you gave in, out of breath.

Hyunjin plants a kiss to your neck before laying you down on the bed.

“Fuck, you are soaked,” Hyunjin says the second he lifts up your dress and sees the huge wet patch on your underwear. He kneels down and peels it off, watching a thin line of your wetness pulls off with it. Hyunjin spreads your legs wider and his eyes rolls to the back of his head as exposes you. You were wet, glistening, it was so hot to him.

You let out a moan as the cold from Minho’s room brushed against your core. “Please, need your mouth,” it was your turn to beg.

Hyunjin complies and attached his lips to your pussy. “Ahh! Mhmm.. More..” you weren’t kidding when you said you don’t know if you can keep quiet.

Hyunjin buries his face deeper as he contents to lick all over you, his nose rubbing against your clit. He was basically pussy drunk at his stage, gripping and pulling your hip closer to his faces. Your head falls back as you feel the pleasure building up in your core, your thighs volunteering closing around his head to add more pressure.

“I’m going cum, please.. Hyunjin— gonna cum..” you whine as he harshly sucks on your clit now, it was basically the cheat code in making you cum and he was able to get it the first time.

You moaned as you feel a glush of wetness explode from your core, you had cum. Hyunjin can tell you’re orgasming but he didn’t want to stop, you were too addicting.

You had to rip him off of you before you were overstimulated. “Hyunjin, too much,” you whined and he finally lifts his head.

“You taste too good kitten, sorry couldn’t stop,” he says and he wipes your wetness around his mouth with the back of his hand before licking it.

“Come here,” he jumps on the bed, pulling you into his arms. He runs his finger through your hair as you recover. You both stare at each other for a while before falling into a fit of giggles. How crazy is it that you were each other’s crush and not realising it.

“Should we go back out?” He asked smoothing down your hair.

“I have to touch up my lipstick first,” you say, pecking his nose.

“Let me help you,” he pulls you up from the bed before back hugging you to the bathroom where your bag was.

“Back to mine tonight, okay?” He reminded you softly as he wipes your lipstick in your lips - a hint of innocence radiating from him like he didn’t just lap up all your juices like a greedy animal.

“Of course, I have no where else I rather be tonight,” you answered, grinning from ear to ear at your pretty boy.

“Can’t believe it took you to squeeze into that tiny chair with Han-Ji for me to tell you,” Hyunjin beats himself up.

“It’s okay Hyunjin, I reckon the timing was perfect,” you reassured.

The house was packed now than before, it took you and Hyunjin a while to squeeze through all the people. Minho watch as you both hold hands, happily, making your way down the stairs, his smug pulling back on his face.

“Who got the bragging rights?” Minho asks cheekily as you both walk past him.

“You.” You answered rolling your eyes and Hyunjin laughs.

“You also got a messy bed too, bro,” Hyunjin taps Minho by the shoulders before following you.

Minho was left mouth agape as he stares up at the stairs. “Did they just…”

[ellievenus]

Saw that your requests were opened and I can’t stop thinking of having sex with Lyney in his bedroom in the house of hearth trying not to get caught by a none and him putting his hand on your mouth to keep you quiet 🤭🤭

Songbird

Characters: Lyney x Gender Neutral!Reader

A/N: .. went kinda bonkers about this. no i am not favoring lyney requests, i am not, nope. not proofread!

NSFW under the cut.

“Lyney… here?”

You signed, folding your arms over your chest and looking at your boyfriend with an irritated look, which he returns with a wink.

You guys were flirting after one of his shows and things got… way too heated. You weren’t about to fuck backstage and get caught by Lynette, that would be a fucking nightmare.

He smiled and lightly touched your arm, you hated how easy it was for him to just… make you listen. He slowly and gently takes a hold of your hand, admiring the way your hand looked intertwined with his own. Then he looked at you with those eyes you know that screams ‘I’m up to no good.”

“Awh, c’mon love, it’s not like it’ll be our first time here!”

He purred, making sure to lower his voice to the tone that he knows gets you going. You blush and avert your eyes, though your hand tightens its hold on his, making him smile.

You sigh and look at him again,

“I know that, and I also recall us almost getting caught.”

There’s no venom in your words, you both know you want to do this, Lyney just has to push one more button and you would become putty in his hands.

His free hand went to your lower back, tracing a star shape, looking up at you with a teasing expression,

“Well that was because a certain somebody couldn’t stop making noises.”

He just knows how to push your buttons a little too well.

“Fine. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He’s being unfair. He’s gripping your waist and digging his nails into your skin while pounding into your hole so fucking rough the sensation overwhelms you with pain and pleasure at the same time so deliciously you feel like you’re gonna burst any moment.

Your breaths are quick, whining and moaning Lyney’s name over and over as his thrusts become even faster, more rough, and he watches you with a small smile on his lips.

You writhe under him when you cum, cry out so loud let alone the house of Hearth people in the court must have heard you when he doesn’t stop, his thrusts don’t relent, fucking his own cum into you when he shivers and just keeps going, his breathy and whiny moans of your name that fall off his tongue like a prayer just adding to the absolute pleasure and pain he’s drowning you in.

“Lyney- fuck- ah fuck- too fast- you’re going to fast, Lyney-!”

He moans and buries his cock inside you, still for a moment as he catches his breath and his slowly travels from your stomach, leaving a scorching feeling in their wake, and he taps your lips.

“Open up, baby.”

It’s sudden, his voice, the way his body glistens under the moonlight and the way he just fucking says that makes you obey like a fucking dog. He coos as he pushes two fingers inside your mouth, rubbing the tips of them on your tongue.

He starts moving again, now snapping his hips and making sure that every inch of his cock is inside you before pulling out again and doing it over and over again until you’re a crying mess once more.

He pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth. Dropping his voice to a sweet whisper,

“Hush songbird, you don’t want to get us caught do you? be good for me.”

You whimper pathetically and both of your hands find his arm, you start sucking, which helps with muffling your sounds. He looks pleased and resumes his pace, he isn’t going to stop until he’s had his fill of you, until you’re dripping with so much of his cum that it starts to run down his dick and he fucks it back into you. He missed you so much, after all, so be good and take it.

“There’s a good songbird…”

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part I

Word count: 3600+

Warnings: mentions of blood, body remains; reader is from Hewn city (I believe that says enough about what to expect here)

Note: I'm posting this just because I'm curious if there would be anyone interested in this story. There won't be next chapter any time soon, not until the rest of Heal me is up. Hopefully I won't need to pretend it's oneshot😮‍💨

Declaration: I hate dancing and have zero knowledge about it, so excuse the lack of description or any vagueness in that part. I tried to look things up, I swear, but the unstoppable rolling of my eyes made it hard to focus🤷

Dividers by amazing @tsunami-of-tears

Part II

A male slowly stepped out of the darkness, the pale face lifted up. His amber eyes found yours, gazing straight into them with hate, all-consuming fire blazing in his irises. His unbounded long red hair flew around him, dancing in the air as flames. He was scary but handsome. Then his mouth twisted into a sadistic grin came in focus and you cried out in fear. His white teeth were covered in blood, streams of it running down his chin, dripping on the front of his shirt.

Blood was dripping even from his long fingers with sharp nails of predator. Down at his feet lay remains of a body, pile of flesh and broken bones, burned so badly that nobody could recognize the person whom it belonged to.

His grin widened and he suddenly dashed forward towards you, his hand reaching for your throat.

You jolted up in dimly lit carriage, cold sweat covering your body. Thankfully, you were all alone and nobody saw you or heard you. This nightmare haunted you almost every time you closed your eyes ever since you were told that you would marry a new High Lord of Autumn Court.

You were born and raised in Hewn city, the cruellest place known to fae world where it was lucky to be born as a male. Unfortunately, you were a female which meant that you were a toy in hands of your father who was just as brutal as that whole place.

You'd spent most of your life in your room without windows, allowed to come out only when you were called or needed. You'd never seen a daylight until this day. Growing up you were often punished whether you did something wrong or not, because you were just a weak female, a possession that could be sold if the offer was high enough. That's how you ended up betrothed to the Heir of Autumn Court on the first place.

You didn't know why you were chosen. You had never spoken with him nor met him in person. You saw him only from afar when he came to Hewn city to negotiate with Keir and later at a ball organized by your High Lord where he danced with one of the High Lady's sisters. It was quite an interesting show and he seemed to be smitten by her.

You watched that all from your dark alcove where you were exposed for the chosen ones but otherwise hidden from prying eyes of others. You weren't allowed to participate directly. You weren't even allowed to talk with other guests. The ball was a market and you were the goods.

However, the horrific rumours about the Heir got to your ears nevertheless. You heard all stories about his cruelty and punishments that he loved to deliver, and later even the stories about how he killed his father and became a High Lord. None of them was a good one, but he wasn't judged here. In Hewn city, he was admired for his rigour. Every male wanted to be like him, every female either feared she would catch his eye or longed for that.

You, for sure, didn't belong to the second group. You didn't want to get married at all. All you dreamt about, was freedom, the possibility to go and do whatever you wanted, but that was out of question for you. You were just a puppet that danced only when a male pulled the strings. Now you were a property of your father who had planned to sell you for the highest offer from the day you were born, and soon enough you would became a property of your husband. You were nothing, you didn't count.

You were aware of the offers that piled on your father's desk. They started coming when you turned 15, but your father had waited. You didn't know what he did or who he spoke to, when suddenly a marriage proposal came from Autumn Court soon after your 18th birthdays. He didn't hesitate this time and immediately accepted. He couldn't get any higher offer than from the future High Lord himself, could he.

If you thought your life was a torture before, after that it became a hell. Whole year you spent learning all kinds of manners that wife of male with such high position had to know. They taught you what your place in the court and in the private would be, what you had to do to keep it, they beat it into you, breaking you again and again until there were no errors and you were perfectly submissive.

You also had to become an outstanding dancer because your future husband seemed to have a special interest in dance. Even now your toes were still bleeding into your shoes as your last lesson ended right before the departure.

In every aspect you had to be perfect and worthy of High Lord of Autumn. Lady of Autumn Court, your future husband's mother, was given to you as a model of such a perfect wife. Quiet, obedient, representative, beautiful.

Perfect doll to be ruined by her husband when no one was looking.

You feared the future but you had no choice.

You slightly moved the curtain to look out and see the bits of the country behind the window. Because of the nap you lost track of time. Your heart squeezed in dread when you found out you were already in a forest full of red and yellow and golden brown leaves. You had never seen an autumn foliage with your own eyes, but even you with your limited knowledge knew that these were colours of Autumn. You were getting closer to your final ordeal.

It took another hour or two and carriage stopped. Before you could reach for the doorknob, the door flew open and your father's always angry face came to view.

"Get out now," he ordered. He seemed to be in quite a good mood today.

You immediately moved closer to the door and get off. Your heels clicked on the sandstone in the courtyard of a beautiful castle, but you had no time to look around as father shoved you to the entrance. Bowing your head, you submitted.

At the gate you were welcomed by High Lord's advisor, a male with rather a cool demeanour, and some maids who took you to the chamber where you were supposed to get ready and wait until the ceremony began. You didn't bother to even try to lift your gaze, you were too scared to look at people directly. Whenever you dared to look at someone, most of them had no face in your eyes, only an empty mask. You distinguished people mainly by their voices.

You felt your father staring after you coldly as you silently followed the maids, his gaze felt like a sharp knife poking into your back. You were scared he would follow you because you were his priced ticket to wealth now, but soon he turned around and walked away with the advisor in the opposite direction.

Maids were quiet and quick as they helped you to bath and dress. They skilfully braided your long hair into a complicated hairstyle, attached the veil to it, letting it fall down and cover your face. When they were done, with a slight bow they left.

You let out a breath that you didn't even know you'd been holding the entire time they were hopping around you. Nobody bothered to inform you how much time you had left, but it didn't matter anyway. You couldn't run away from your fate.

You were sitting at the vanity table where they left you, looking at the ground as you were taught, your mind empty. You couldn't even mourn the life that you never had and never would have. They successfully turned you into a puppet, a blank canvas ready for your husband to paint on.

Soft knock sounded on the doors and a female's voice called that it's time. You slowly stood up with bowed head and stepped out from the chamber. Small maid led you through corridors and halls to a chapel.

You'd like to look around, wanting to see at least something of your wedding day worth of memorising it, but your father was already waiting for you, angrily tapping his foot.

"Good for nothing as usual," he grunted. "How long do you think we have to wait for you?"

"I'm sorry, father," you said in a small voice.

"Speak properly! You are like your mother, useless. Thankfully from now on, you will be your husband's burden."

He offered you an arm and you immediately took it not wanting to make him any more angry. Together you got ready at the threshold and as music started to play you stepped inside.

The chapel seemed to be quite spacious, full of warm light and crowded with guests. As you walked to the altar you caught glimpses of gold, yellow and white decorations. Your father halted, a pair of shiny black boots stepped closer. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that your father was smiling kindly. You were shocked. It was the first time you saw such expression on his cruel face.

Your father said something to that male and he answered. Your heart was beating so fast and loudly that you hardly heard the music. Father took your hand and offered it to the male who surprisingly gently accepted it. Fingers that wrapped around yours were pale and long just as in that nightmare, but instead of icy cold you felt warmth seeping into your skin. Your father stepped away, leaving you with this male. The transaction was apparently successful.

"Can we?"

A deep voice spoke lowly, snapping you out of the new kind of darkness that began to pull you into its void. You inhaled sharply. It wasn't that deadly voice that haunted you in sleep but a quite pleasant, rich one that felt like a warm blanket, a liquid honey flowing into your ears that were used to only harsh words. Rich aroma of spicy cinnamon and apples roasted on fire filled your nose.

You nodded, still not daring to look up. He led you to the altar where a priestess was waiting for you. As you stood before her, he turned to you one more time. His fingers touched the edge of the veil, lifting it up. You kept your eyes down as you were taught.

"Look at me," he commanded softly.

Carefully, inch by inch you raised your eyes, taking in first his trousers in cream colour, then his elegant tailored moss jacket with gold details that hugged his chest perfectly. He didn't look like a mass of muscles as the general of Night Court did even though before he had the same rank. Your soon-to-be husband seemed to be rather lean, but definitely a warrior with muscles on right places. And so tall, impossibly tall, that you hardly reached up to his shoulders.

It felt like forever until your gaze finally reached his face. Like in the nightmares it was pale with bright amber eyes and high cheekbones, his nose was straight and lips full. He wasn't smiling, yet corners of his mouth seemed to be twisted in a permanent smirk. In golden rays of sun penetrating through a round window behind the altar, his red hair had a warm shade, and looked so silky that you had to wonder how it would feel to touch them. Now cut much shorter than the last time you saw him, he just casually combed them back, a few unruly strands falling on his forehead.

His eyes roamed over your face, brows lightly furrowed, then one corner of his lips lifted in a half smile. He was handsome, attractive, there was no doubt about it. You expected him to have the cool, cruel aura you noticed before and he didn't disappoint, but as you were watching him for a while, in his eyes there was something you'd never seen before. Perhaps it was kindness, but what did you know. It was just a foreign word to you, something you never experienced.

It was confusing.

He didn't say if he liked what he saw, his expression gave nothing away. He just turned to priestess, signalling her with a nod of the head to begin the ceremony. You allowed your eyes to linger and watch his profile a little longer before your gaze again slid down to the floor. Hardly perceiving priestess's words, you returned to that quiet place in your mind where you felt safe from the world.

When the ceremony was over, Eris leaned down, gazing at you. This was the part when the groom should kiss the bride. You stayed still, expecting him to move, but he was just waiting. You looked up with silent question in eyes. As soon as your full attention was on him, he moved forward and his lips sealed over yours in a tender kiss. Your eyes widened in surprise, breath caught in your throat. You expected anything from him except of this. He didn't close his eyes either, closely watching your reaction.

Eris tasted like honey and some alcohol. It was a strange combination, but not unpleasant. His lips slightly moved against yours, testing the waters and then it was over.

As if nothing had happened he straightened up and turned to the crowd, offering you an arm. You exhaled shakily, internally shouting at your body to move. You couldn't keep him waiting. Your fingers gripped on his sleeve. Still weak in your knees you could only wish that you wouldn't fall down.

His other hand went up to yours on his arm, adjusting it. Holding it firmly he tugged you closer and led you to the ballroom where the party would take a place.

Why did he behave like this? Did he genuinely care? Or did he notice your state and wanted to just prevent an embarrassing incident? He was supposed to be cruel. Everyone said that about him. Was it just some kind of masquerade and later he would make you pay for your mistakes? You were so confused and nervous.

The celebration program was simple. The ceremony was to be followed by a banquet and finally a party. When you came into the impressive ballroom decorated in the same colours as the chapel, the tables were already bending under the amount of deliciously looking food.

Eris led you to the table in the centre, a bit higher than the rest. He held a chair for you and then took a seat on your right. The other chairs were gradually filled as the guests were coming. Your father was seated at the table on your left, giving you a cold stare. Shiver ran down your spine and your heart started to beat faster. You knew that face. Whatever you had done he was very displeased right now.

Your husband inconspicuously leaned closer.

"Is everything alright?" he asked lowly, eyeing still coming guests. Did he hear your heartbeat even over this noise?

"Of course, my lord," you blushed, focusing on your hands folded on your skirt under the table.

Eris's eyes narrowed on you and then his gaze moved behind you to your father. He immediately stopped frowning at you and instead he conjured a pleasant smile at his new son-in-law. Eris made a small displeased noise and looked away.

When everyone took their seats Eris stood up to give a short speech and a toast. You took a goblet with wine but didn't drink. Could not. You weren't allowed to drink alcohol.

After your husband a dark haired male stood up to toast to newly wed couple. As he spoke you recognized the voice of your High Lord.

Nervously you swallowed.

It was unexpected, but not incomprehensible. Of course he was here. A member of his Court married his ally. This wedding was an important political event. There were certainly also other allied High Lords between the guests. The most powerful beings of this country had eyes on you. And your husband? He was one of them. Not an ordinary High Fae or some aristocrat. A High Lord.

Sudden realisation hit you hard and you felt a growing nausea, heart throbbing in your throat.

When everyone was done toasting, silent servants appeared seemingly from nowhere and started to serve the food to the plates. Not remembering when you had eaten for the last time was your last concern. You were too nervous and frightened to even think about the food right now.

Eris seemed to notice that you were just poking the vegetables with a fork around the plate, pretending you were eating as everyone around.

"Isn't the meal to your taste?" he asked with raised brows quietly.

Under the table you clenched fingers into the skirt of your dress. This male could turn you into a pile of ash if he wanted.

"Everything is delicious, my lord," swallowing hard you answered in a small shaky voice.

He just huffed and after a while returned to his plate and the conversation he had before. You bit on your lower lip. Did you offend him? Would he punish you later? You were on the verge of crying. From the other side of the table you could feel your father's angry gaze. Breathing raggedly you willed the tears back and put down the fork. Your trembling hand reached for a glass of water. Focussing on not spilling it's content, you brought it to your red painted lips and took a sip. You needed to pull yourself together, to overcome it. The show wasn't over yet.

By the time the clattering of cutlery has died down, you managed to calm down a bit. Music that played whole the time, got louder and some of the guests moved to the parquet.

Eris turned to you once again, his eyes lingering on your face. He seemed to think about something. For a brief moment his lips pursed into a thin line.

"We have to dance the first dance. It's a tradition," he spoke coldly.

"Yes, my lord."

You already knew that and you were more than ready even though your healing toes still hurt. This wouldn't be the first time you had to suppress the pain and pretend everything was okay. You could do this.

Despite the too high expectations of your teachers and father, you loved dance. It was the only quite funny activity you were ever allowed to do.

High Lord helped you to stand up and led you to the centre of the parquet. The guests created a circle around you.

Eris's warm hand heavily landed on your waist, holding you firmly, his fingers leaving marks on your skin through the corset. The sudden roughness surprised you and you slightly winced. Thankfully nobody seemed to notice it, not even your husband. Taking your other hand into his, you two took a position and started to move at the exactly same time to the rhythm of the song in a small circles. Eyes pinned to his strong chest right in front of you, you performed your best.

You moved gracefully as you were taught, small sparks in your veins slowly becoming a fire, consuming you. After the first rather stiff steps, your body relaxed and you blended in with the melody, becoming the music. The long skirt of your dress was sweeping the floor with every your step, looking like a flowing mountain stream. You loved that feeling. Eris spun you and you made a perfect pirouette so fast that you whirled two times. Someone in the watching crowd gasped in amazement, several others applauded.

If you dared to look up, you would see the fire in your husband's eyes and a wide smile. He was enjoying this, too, more than he was willing to admit.

The two of you started dancing in bigger and bigger circles, your every move faster than the last one. The crowd around had turned into a blurry smudge, but none of you minded. Eris decided to test you by changing the steps and adding figures, and you responded to every change with ease, without a mistake.

As the song was coming to its end, your husband decided to end the dance with a pretty deep dip. Your back arched under his fingers and suddenly you came face to face with him, your noses almost touching. Your eyes widened in surprise.

Two blazing amber eyes were piercing you with genuine interest, wolfish grin on his lips. His usual merciless expression was replaced by something wild, beautiful and kind of dangerous. He was mesmerising. You were definitely playing with a fire when you reached up, tips of your fingers lightly touching his jaw. Eris blinked and it was gone.

He straightened up and you followed, once again scared that you possibly made a fatal error when you touched his face.

Now all the guests were applauding. Looking around his cold gaze jumped from face to face. He didn't say anything as he bowed to you, kissing the back of your hand and then escorted you back to the table. Both of you were still heaving as you took your seats. He grabbed your glass of water and handed it to you. You thanked him to which he just responded with a nod. Then he took his empty goblet and held it out for the servant to fill it with wine. He drummed with fingers as he waited. As soon as the servant stepped back, he emptied the goblet again.

The musicians started to play another song and parquet filled with dancing pairs. When it seemed that nobody paid you attention any longer, without even looking in your direction Eris reached out under tha table, his fingers lightly brushing your arm from elbow down to your wrist. Finding your hand rested on your lap, he clasped it in his much bigger one and held it for the rest of the evening.

[banj0possum]

+* Masterlist *+

Some bonus stuff isnt listen here but you can find them by searching up the tags in their respective fics <3

For those interested in the ones with art, all of my art posts have the tag #opossumdoodles on them !

ADRIAN 🖤 YANDERE! BULLY X READER || PART 2 || PART 3 || Ftm Darling w/ Top Scars

BRANDON 🏈 JOCK X READER || PART 2 || PART 3

VALETH ⚔️ YANDERE! ORC X READER

BO, SCREW, SODA, RIBS 💀 ZOMBIE HORDE X READER || w/ FtM Darling w/o Top Surgery || PART 2 || PART 3 || zombo hcs + art || FtM Reader on Their Period || Abusive Family Finds Reader || Tending To Reader's Wounds || Soda Hates WIne || Zombo HCs || Child Reader

DORIK 🔥 DEMON X READER

KALVA 🪶 HARPY X READER

JASPER 🥀 YANDERE! GOTH X READER || PART 2 || Opposite Reader

VICTOR, GARRICK, SILAS🌙 POLY! VAMPIRES X READER || PART 2

BARON ♠️ YANDERE! BODYGUARD X READER || Affectionate Reader || PART 2

CASPIAN 🌊 YANDERE! SIREN X READER || PART 2

HALLOW 🦋 YANDERE! CLOWN X READER

ASHVAN 🌾 YANDERE! MINOTAUR X READER

AXEL 🎸 YANDERE! ROCKSTAR X READER || Playing with Darling's Pussy || What other genres does he like?

ALISTAIR 👑 YANDERE! KING X READER || Platonic!Teen!Reader || Modern Doctor! Reader ft. @ketsup-toyo

KAGIRI 🐉 YANDERE! GANG X READER

ELIAS 🪲 YANDERE! HERO X READER

Multiple Yanderes:

When Their Darling Simps For A Fictional Character

Asking Them If They Can Squeeze Their Chest

I dont even know what to name this one

w/ Rowdy Darling

Disabled! Reader w/ Mobility Disability

Darling Gives Them Love Bites

Happy Birthday Darling!!

Easiest to Hardest Yans To Escape From

OC Eyes!!

SOME AWESOME FANART BELOW THE CUT!!

AWESOME FANART!!

Dripped Out Jasper by @pyrce

Possumb by @nikasho

Ribs and Screw by @koifish67

Zombie Horde by @gaggedgraveyard

More Zomboys!! by @cursedsnail-slug

little bastard cooking by @nikasho?

Caspian by @ajadoodler

Soda by @treasured-e

Banjo by @smallcactus22 (fun fact, my dad has this one saved on his computer <3)

Hallow and Soda by @treasured-e

Realistic Banjo!! by @getmoxied

Axel Bear Hug!! by @theminotaurslover

Axel by @hungaara

Axel and Small Darling by @mellsfern

Axel in a Maid Dress by @mellsfern

Alistair + Darling by @mellsfern

Dorik and Jasper by @rachaeldafrog

Dorik by @sonderrealization

Alistair and Darling by @gachaclubideas

Valeth!! by @phoenix-nerd

Ribs, Screw, Soda, Bo and Dorik by @ezraa-kelz

Rockin With Ribs by @panconchocolatito

Zombie Horde + HCs by @emperortaro

Silly Guy Ribs by @emperortaro

Pretty Emo Boy by @queenie-the-court-jester

Zombie Horde! by @loveableidiot1

Twink Dorik by @sunnybozo

Dorik!! by @a--butterflys--dream

Other:

Axel Playlist by @questioningstressing

[zarnzarn]

"Why are you panicking on the balcony in the middle of the night?" Penelope's voice cuts through his quick breathing out of sheer terror at her closeness and Odysseus throws a punch towards her.

Penelope catches his fist and yawns.

"Why are you spying on me panicking on the balcony in the middle of the night?" He replies when he finds his voice, pulling his hand back and turning back out to lean on the railing.

"Athena did not want to get out of the covers," Penelope sighs, plastering herself to his back like a particularly lazy lion. "Well? At least panic in bed, darling, winter is cold this year."

He laughs, threadbare but amused. Then sobers. Stares at the moon. "Sometimes, I- I don't-"

Penelope kisses his shoulder and he closes his eyes on an exhale. "Yes?"

"I don't deserve to have been the one to come back."

She is silent as the words hang in the air.

"Half their wives remarried in the fifth year, when we had no word of who lived and who died." Penelope says finally, making his heart jump. "Their parents gave up the first year after Troy fell and no ships entered our harbour. Even the most loyal either left or moved on... everyone except for me."

"Penelope-" Odysseus whispers, voice full of pain. Five years of Ithaka have done much to make the twenty years away feel like a bad dream- except at moments like these, where it comes rushing back in like a spear to the chest.

"So remember that it was for me," She interrupts him, voice firm even as it cracks. "That I deserved for you to have come back- that I stayed married and stayed loyal and waited for you, Odysseus. I kept Ithaka waiting, did not love you less even one second that you were away, and knew that you would find your way back, even when no one else believed."

"Oh, Penelope. Of course it was for you," Odysseus whispers, overcome. "Every drop of blood I spilled-"

"Then cease this regret!"

"But I cannot do that either!" Odysseus sighs, presses his hands to his face. "Everyone I know, everything I touch... all comes to ruin eventually."

"I am still here," Penelope cuts in, voice hard. "And don't disrespect my loyalty by believing that you don't deserve every drop of it."

"Penelope," Odysseus turns, stricken and cracked. They embrace, his fingers shaking. "Penelope."

"I love you, my dear," Penelope softens, cradling his face. "I am sorry our men were lost. Believe me, I am, I hate it, I look at our temples and rage at the gods, the Fates, every single day that we were so close to pure happiness and it slipped out of our fingers so. I hate what it did to you, what all of them did to you. But I cannot be sorry that you found your way back to me, and I will never be sorry that I chose you, even if I knew what was to come."

The tears drip down onto the ground below, although they no longer carry the heavy guilt and grief of five years before. "I am. I am sorry that-"

"If you apologise for marrying her, I'll hand her the knife to slit your throat myself," Athena grouches as she slips beside them, military posture unwoven by sleep until she's slouching to their height. She presses her face to Odysseus' shoulder sleepily, miniature wings flapping idly in her hairline. "It was bad enough playing matchmaker when you were already courting each other, don't give me nightmares of what it would have been like if you'd been driven apart back then. Stop being an idiot. "

"I thought you didn't want to leave the bed," Odysseus huffs, bumping his hip into hers.

Athena grunts. Penelope puts a hand on his cheek to guide his gaze back to hers.

"We love you," She murmurs, pressing their noses together. "And regret is useless. We have fought for our happiness and won- feel the grief and let it pass. Let it go. Be happy, my darling, until we meet our friends again."

"And for the love of the stars, go the fuck to sleep," Athena snarks.

Odysseus laughs, wiping away his tears. "I love you too," He whispers, kissing her. "And I miss them. But you're right, I think- I think it's time to move ahead."

"Everyone dies," Athena pitches in, softly for once. "You will see your men once more, Odysseus. But there are years of living for you yet."

"Even if I say I wish to spend the night on the balcony with you?" Odysseus says teasingly.

"No, then we'll both kill you immediately," Penelope replies, smiling. "Even if Athena's chest does look enticing in the cold."

"Keep your filth-ridden thoughts to yourself, vulgar woman," Athena chides fondly as she pushes her enormous self off the railing and presses a kiss down to Penelope's smirking mouth. "Come back to bed, the both of you."

Odysseus takes in a breath of the chilled wind and follows his lovers back inside, where the branches of their bed sway gently, scattering leaves around their heads.

"I am glad for it too," Athena murmurs behind him as she climbs in after them both, pressing herself across his side and laying a kiss to his cheekbone. Runs a hand down his back as Penelope pulls the blanket over them. "If you have grown so stupid as to not know that already."

Odysseus sniffs, rubbing at his face, but smiling slowly. Two sets of hands envelop him in tight embraces, a riot of messy hair coming into his vision on either side. "I love you both."

"Go to sleep," comes the chorus from either side, bodies pushing closer to him so that not a lick of air remains between them.

He still may not deserve it- but he is still finally, blessedly- home.

[throneofsmut]

Kinktober Day Thirty-One: Wing Play Azriel x Female Reader Author's Note : I'm going to turn this into a series !! 💙

When your older sister, Feyre was taken away by some fae beast in the night, you thought you’d never see her again. The rest of your family acted like nothing happened, all of sudden having money and status again. But you knew the truth, even went so far as to going to the wall a couple times.

The first time you went you found one of the ripples in the wall separating the humans and faeries. And pushed through, it felt… different. Once your body was completely through, you felt more alive, more like yourself.

Making the trek through the forest, hiding along the gates to the Manor of the Spring Court, you were just about to make a run for it. When suddenly a knife was pressed against your throat. Fae. You knew you had one chance at this, throwing your elbow behind you, into the fae’s middle with everything you had. The knife lightly slicing into your throat warm trickles of blood dripped from it, as you grabbed the knife lunging for the fae male.

Pressing it against his throat as the red haired male was gasping for breath - you winded him. Using your free arm to push him further into the ground. You leaned down, snarling, “Where is she ?”

He coughed finally regaining his breath, “Safe. She’s safe.”

Applying a bit more pressure against his throat, the knife made his skin redden, “Liar.”

“I’ll show you,” he panted softly.

You got off him but as soon as he stood you instantly had the blade pressed against his side. He led you to the side of the manor as he pointed up towards a window. You growled, sounding more fae than human, “Where is she ?”

A heart beat passed, “Look.” And there she was, your sister, Feyre.

She looked… happy.

You let out a shaky breath, fighting back tears, dropping the knife that was clutched in your hand. The red haired male turned to you, brows furrowed, “You love her.” It was more a statement than a question.

“Of course I do, she’s my sister. She’s one half of me.” He gave you a gentle smile before walking you back towards the wall.

Once you made it back to the wall, he stopped you, grabbing your arm. “I’m Lucien.” You gave him a small nod, his voice stopped you again, “So which sister are you ?”

“Y/n.”

He chuckled, “Y/n. That’s why you were able to disarm me. Feyre told me that while she hunted for the family, you fought in the pits for money.” Giving him another small nod, turning back towards the wall. “Listen, I can meet you at the wall every couple of weeks. If you want to check on her.” He offered.

Looking over your shoulder, your lips set in a wicked smirk, “I was going to keep checking on her regardless.”

His lips curved up into a smirk too before nodding his head towards the wall, “See you soon.”

Then you were gone.

So every 2 weeks for months you checked on feyre without her knowing. Lucien beside you as you both were perched in a tree, through the months you both slowly started becoming friends. At first he’d tell you how she was doing but then you’d both start asking each other questions. You’d never hated faeries, even though your family did. To you it was simple, they’d never done anything to you personally, so you didn’t hate them. Lucien laughed at that and told you he didn’t hate humans, this time making you laugh.

You were just about to head out to make your journey to the Spring court when Feyre showed up. Then almost as soon as she’d gotten back, she left.

A couple months later you went back and Lucien was already there waiting for you. “She’s not here.” He whispered.

“What ?”

He sighed, “She left.”

You felt your heart racing, Lucien could probably hear it. “I have to find her.”

Lucien grabbed your arm before you made it back through the wall, “You may not like what you find.” Then he let you go.

You practically sprinted the entire way home resting as little as possible. Ripping the door to your family’s estate and then slamming it shut, making your way to your bedroom. Sleep found you quickly that night, exhausted from your trek to the Spring Court and back home.

You slept in, almost sleeping through the whole day until you were woken up by voices. They were arguing and it sounded like they were coming from the dining room. Still in your night slip, you made your way down stairs - Feyre, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel had all been alerted to the sound of a door closing - walking into the dining room, you froze.

She was here.

Feyre was here but she was different. Now she was slightly taller than you only, pointed ears poking through her hair and she was beautiful. She was beautiful before but now… and she didn’t come alone. Three fae males were with her. One had eyes so blue they were violet and the others had large bat-like wings. They all stood, assessing you, not sure if they should be preparing for a fight.

“Feyre…” I whispered.

“You’re here.” She breathed.

That’s all it took for you to throw yourself into her arms. The both of you cried as you held each other. Throat tight as you whispered, “I didn’t know if you were dead or not.”

She let out a shaky breath as she hugged you tighter, “I was.”

Holding each other for a couple moments longer, before Nesta was clearing her throat and the both of you separated. Feyre took a step back, not letting go of your hand as she snarled at Nesta, “You said she wasn’t here.” Nesta merely shrugged in response. Feyre glared at her before turning to introduce you to the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. He bowed at the waist in greeting. Then she moved to the General of his Armies, Cassian. And finally to the most beautiful male you’d ever seen, his Spymaster, Azriel.

They surprisingly bowed at the waist in greeting as well, you bowed your head in return. A genuine smile on your lips as you acknowledged them, “Hello, pleasure to meet you. All you.” Rhysand was about to speak when Nesta cut him off, “Go change into something more appropriate.”

You rolled your eyes before turning to look at her, “I'm pretty sure it’s not the first time they’ve seen a female in night slip… or a pair of tits for that matter.” Turning back to face the four of them, you could see they were all fighting to not smirk at your antics.

Doing a mock curtsy directed a Nesta, “I’ll be back. Continue having dinner, don’t stop on my account.” Heading back upstairs, you still felt Nesta’s burning gaze on you, “Now, Nes !” You yelled at her over your shoulder just to piss her off even more.

You came back down once everyone was seated and noticed Cassian and Azriel kept shifting trying to get comfortable in chairs not meant to accommodate wings. Their eyes landed on you as you neared before stopping in the middle of the room, turning back on your heel. Yelling over your shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

Hauling two stools back into the dining room, then the male named Azriel was suddenly at your side, taking them out of your hands. Cassian met him halfway, to grab one, before finally sitting comfortably without the backs of the chairs bothering their wings. They gave you warm smiles before thanking you, Rhysand saying thank you as well. You shrugged, “It’s nothing.”

Rhys shook his head, “Not to us. Thank you, for your kindness.”

Dinner was giving you a headache because Nesta and Feyre were arguing. You were picking at the skin around your thumbs when a large scarred hand settled over them, Azriel’s. Who was seated next to you. Turning to look at him, he didn’t look away from the argument but he gave your hands three reassuring squeezes. A silent sign that he saw you.

Then Cassian was trying to get a reaction out of Nesta, you let out small huff and without thinking you moved one of your hands, settling atop Azriel’s. Soft smooth fingers roaming over the scarred skin, tracing them. You felt him stiffen beneath your touch before relaxing again. You whispered almost inaudibly, “Beautiful.” Eyes never leaving his hands.

He looked at you and Rhys saw something flicker in his gaze but it was gone as soon as it came.

When dinner was over, Feyre and Rhys told your sisters and you why they’d really come.

War.

A war was coming and our village would likely get the brunt of it. They also told us that they wanted to meet with the six human queens, using the estate as a neutral meeting place. We all stayed up late into the night as they drafted up a letter to set the meeting. Everyone made their way upstairs but then Feyre followed you into your room. That’s when she told you everything. Finally getting up to make her way towards the door when a shadow slithered in. She laughed softly, “I wonder why it’s here.”

Tilting your head as it floated up in front of you , almost like it was taking you in, “Should we ask ?”

“If you want.”

“Uhh. . . Go get, Azriel. Please.” You said to the shadow.

Then it slithered away, going to get its master hopefully. Feyre and you waited. Then a couple moments later soft knocks sounded at your door.

You rushed to open it seeing if he had actually come.

“You came.” Something like amusement glittering in your eyes.

He gave you a shy small, “You called.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you but-“ Feyre cut you off. “Did you send the shadow in here ?”

Azriel cleared his throat, “No. They like you" - his eyes hadn’t left yours - "they wanted to see you again. I told them they might scare you so I told them to leave you alone but I guess they didn’t listen.”

Shaking your head, eyes still on his, “They don’t scare me.” He gave you a small nod, understanding what your words meant - he doesn’t scare you.

Then Feyre was walking past you, her hand on Azriel’s arm, “Come on, Let’s let her rest. The mother knows we need it too.”

The next morning after breakfast Rhys offered us that if we wanted we could go back to the Night Court with them if we didn’t feel safe on this side of the wall. We would be protected by him and his inner circle there. The whole time Rhys voiced his offer, Feyre's eyes were pleading you to come, to go “home” with her. Nesta and Elain said no, well Nesta said no for the both of them. Feyre’s voice was quiet, “Y/n ?”

You sighed heavily, “I can’t leave them.” She knew who you were talking about, and nodded solemnly.

They were about to leave when Rhys spoke again, “A squad of soldiers will be patrolling the area, you won’t even know they’re here but they will be. And if one of you" - he looked at you - "or all you change your mind a soldier will be in the drawing room at noon and midnight every day. He will send word back to me and you will be taken back to the Night Court.”

Nesta and Elain gave him a curt nod.

You bowed your head at him, “Thank you.”

He gave you a warm smile then bowed at the waist.

You walked them out, Feyre hugged you, breathing you in. Almost like she was trying to commit you to memory in case anything happened. Your eyes met with Azriel’s as you were hugging her, “Don’t worry. I feel sure we’ll see each other again.” Feyre hugged you tighter but Azriel nodded, he understood that your words were just as much for him as they were for Feyre. And just like that they were gone.

A couple weeks went by and the Queens had sent word that they would agree to meet. And on the day they had agreed, Lucien had sent you a letter that he wanted to speak with you on that same day. So you went. He asked about Feyre and her whereabouts, you didn’t tell him anything. Yes, you were friends but Feyre was your sister. Your loyalty was to her.

Time went by and everyday you thought about telling the Night Court soldier stationed in your home to tell Rhys that you wanted to go. But the thought of leaving Nesta and Elain alone, you couldn’t, you knew how to fight. They didn’t. So you stayed.

More time had passed and the Queens ended up siding with Hybern for their own personal gain. Your sisters and you caught in the middle of it. The three of you were dragged into a room in the King of Hybern’s castle by four of the Queens guards. You stood in front of your sisters protectively, they were still wearing their nightgowns, whereas yours was just in shreds now from you fighting back. Not to mention the bruises and cuts all over your face and body and the blood soaking your night slip.

You had managed to kill eleven of their guards when they appeared in your home and surprisingly six Hybern soldiers. Feyre, Rhys, Mor and Cassian all looked horrified as they took in the youngest sister’s appearance. Their horror was replaced by shock as Azriel let out a growl - sounding more animal than fae - as he saw her. You still hadn’t noticed their presence, your senses were clouded by pure unyielding rage.

Even though you were gagged and bound - they had somewhat ripped from all your fighting - you took a fighting stance as best you could. Your body was going on pure adrenaline. Numb to everything around you, you didn’t hear Elain’s quiet sobs that were muffled by the gag in her mouth or notice Nesta’s disheveled appearance as she panted from fighting back as best she could. Then without even thinking, you scrambled trying to cover Elain and Nesta’s bodies with your own, as the king of Hyberns power slammed into everyone. Power, white and unending. They were shrieking as you let out a cry of pain, his power affecting you.

Feyre was on the ground, Rhys was slammed to his knees along with Mor. Cassian and Azriel were on the ground. Cassian’s wings were shredded apart as he flared them protecting Azriel from the king’s powers. And Azriel was sprawled in a puddle of his own blood, an ash bolt through his chest. Elain let out a sob to warn Feyre of Tamlin’s approach. Mor tried to make a move for the King of Hybern, but Azriel’s cry of pain stopped her. The sound of him in pain finally cleared your senses. Your eyes landed on his and he attempted to move to you, letting out another cry of pain. No doubt the King's doing.

“Stop.” Your voice cold. The king only laughed, stalking towards you.

“Don’t touch her.” Azriel, Rhys, Lucien and Tamlin all growled.

He only laughed again as he ordered one his guards to take you to the cauldron. “Put the beautiful sister in first.” The second the guard was behind you, you slammed the back of your head into his nose and was ready to do more when Azriel let out another cry of pain, and you froze.

The king tsked at you, “Don’t. Don’t do that. Unless you want him dead.”

The rage in your eyes as you glared at him could devour worlds. One side of your mouth curling up into a cruel smile, as you said with lethal softness, “I’m gonna kill you. Not today, not tomorrow, but I’m gonna kill you. All of you.” He beheld the rage in your eyes and understood your words, the weight of them. They weren’t a threat they were a promise. And he faltered back a step, tearing his gaze from yours, before ordering the guard again, to put you in the cauldron. You gave him a wicked smirk that only the devil could replicate, “What’s wrong… scared ?”

The guard holding you slapped you, your head snapped to the side, spitting blood on the King of Hybern’s Face. Teeth covered in blood, giving him a feral smile as you were shoved closer to the cauldron. Then you heard Lucien’s voice, “Y/n. I’m so sorry.”

Then, Tamlin’s, “I am so sorry for everything.” The High Lord of Springs words filled you with more rage.

He’s sorry ? Oh, he’s sorry. He’s sorry. He’s Sorry. HE’S SORRY. HE’S SORRY.

Those were your last thoughts as your head was shoved under the water. The dark black waters of the Cauldron were so cold, that it burned hotter than any fire. It was all consuming just like your rage. You had always been quick to anger - to rage. It was easier to just turn everything you felt into rage. So this time was no different, finally letting it pour out of you in waves.

You had always been forced to give but this time you were going to take.

You couldn’t tell if it had only been seconds or hours since you’d been submerged under. Unknowingly to you, everyone was holding their breath at what they saw. The black cauldron was now glowing red, the dark calm waters now boiling white waters, bubbling over and smoking at the top. It had been too long, you had to be dead - no one could survive this - then both of your hands broke through the water.

Grasping the side of the glowing cauldron, then your head broke through the waters surface. Sucking in a harsh breath as you heard gasps throughout the room.

Blazing brighter than any star, glowing, fire made flesh. The others couldn’t stand to look at you - you burned so bright - as you hauled yourself out of the cauldron. So lost in a primal rage that you hadn’t even noticed your pointed ears and elongated limbs. The cauldron made you High Fae.

Standing to your full height everyone in the room held their breaths, they knew you were different. Felt it. As soon your hands broke through the surface they’d felt it. Your eyes were glowing as you scanned the entire room, no one moved. The look on your face was all rage and power, an avenging goddess. Death Incarnate.

Hearing a noise from your right, you snapped your head in that direction, an injured winged fae male - Azriel - was trying to make his way to you. Trying and failing. He was stopped by a blonde fae female, putting a hand on his chest. Moving it as he growled, “She’s my mate.” You didn’t know why but you just knew you had to get him.

You got as close to him as you could and he seemed to settle a bit. Then, Elain was dragged into the cauldron, scared and crying. It tipped itself on its side and Elain came out soaking wet but now fae. Lucien at her side moments later wrapped his coat around her. Soon after Nesta was thrown in, kicking and screaming. Cassian stirred but quickly succumbed to the pain of his shredded wings. The cauldron tipping itself on its side once more as Nesta came out. All three of you were made different. But when you came out it was as if the world held its breath.

In the end Rhys winnowed Cassian, Azriel and you in the middle of a warm home. Helping to lower Azriel onto one of the sofas, you were going to help Rhys put Cassian on the other but Azriel didn’t let go of your hand. And his cousin, Mor, followed shortly after with Nesta and Elain. While Feyre had been left with Tamlin and Lucien. Elain was still sobbing and Nesta was screaming. You stayed quiet, assessing as Mor and Rhys winnowed healers into the home.

They all crowded around Cassian and Azriel as they start to heal the general’s wings and the wound on Azriel’s chest. Without noticing, your free hand balled into a fist at your side and you had started to glow. A fae female approached you, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder, “You don’t need to see this. Come with us.” Turning to look at her, she had a soft look on her face. “My name is Cerridwen. My sister and I will get you cleaned up.” Nodding over her shoulder as you see her twin sister trying to usher your two sisters up the stairs. Rhys gives you a reassuring nod and you nod at Cerridwen once. Then bend down to play a kiss on Azriel’s lips - you don’t know why you did it - before letting her lead the way, too tired to fight.

The only people you saw for two weeks were the twins and Rhys. Sometimes your sisters. Mostly keeping to yourself because you knew what magic lay beneath your skin, in your veins. You didn’t want to scare anyone, more than you scared yourself. They didn’t know how it felt, how much you struggled to keep it buried. So you’d let it out in little ways, and that was just the flames.

While you were alone, you often stared at yourself in the mirror. It was strange being high fae, it felt familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. The unnatural elongated features and limbs. Pointed ears and smooth skin. You weren’t just devastatingly beautiful. You were otherworldly and vaguely threatening.

You’d also been having trouble sleeping, Azriel’s shadows would often slither under the door and caress your face, trying and failing to help you fall asleep. But, every time you did sleep you would have a nightmare. It was always the same two. Either, you in the cauldron or Azriel dying. A sharp tug in your chest would always wake you up from them and you’d hear soft footsteps outside your door as you gasped for breath.

Then as soon as you’d catch your breath, they’d leave.

You hadn’t slept two nights in a row, the shadows kept trying to drag you into bed, but you were stubborn. Instead preferring to let flames dance along your fingertips, twining around your now long slender fingers. Batting away the shadows every time they’d grab ahold of your wrist, trying to drag you into your room from the balcony. Then they’d swat you back, on the back of your hand like a child being scolded. On the third night when they tried again and you batted them away, they didn’t do it back. Simply slithering away under the door.

Moments later you heard footsteps getting closer then the door softly clicking open.

You knew who it was, you felt him all the way from the door, even though you were outside. Scenting him as soon as he stepped out onto the balcony.

Azriel.

“The shadows tell me you haven’t been sleeping. Why ?” He said as a way of greeting.

You shrugged, not bothering to look up, “I don’t know.” You mumbled.

“You’re safe now, I promise. Your sisters are too.”

“I’m so tired, Az.” Your voice came out shakier than you expected.

So lost in the flames, that you didn’t realize he was right next to you until he was hauling you into his arms, carrying you back to bed.

Laying on your side, peering up at him, you whispered. “Can you sleep in here tonight ?”

He only stared at you, hazel eyes boring into your as his throat bobbed. “Please.” He nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed, taking off his boots and leathers. Tapping on his shoulder, he turned to look at you.“Can I ask you for one more favor ? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He nodded his head again, “Can we do skin to skin ? You don’t have to take off your briefs, I’ll leave my panties on, but I just want to feel you. Know that your're there.”

Azriel cleared his throat, “If that’s what you want.” You nodded your head and he did too in response.

Once he was only in his briefs he laid down on your bed, you sat up on your knees facing him, pulling your night slip over your head. He groaned softly, “You’re gonna be the death of me.” You felt your face heat up as you giggled softly, murmuring an apology as you laid on his chest. His large scarred hand moved to rub your back soothingly, helping you fall asleep. Mumbling a thank you as a dreamless sleep claimed you that night.

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head against the glare of the morning sun. He always had his curtains drawn and blinds closed so the light wouldn’t wake him when he did manage to sleep in. Even then he never slept in past dawn but it had to be late morning now if the sun was this bright. He was about to move to draw the curtains, freezing when he felt something weighing down on his chest. Knowing it wasn’t anything dangerous because his shadows would’ve told him otherwise, he blinked slowly against the sunlight and saw you.

There, on his chest lay his mate's head with her hair covering part of her face. Your arm was draped over his middle and your leg over his hips, his hand still on the small of your back. Now he knew why he’d slept in for the first time in a long long time, he had finally found his peace… you.

You looked so soft like this, beautiful. Azriel always thought you were beautiful but now that you were on his chest he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Couldn’t resist the urge to use his free hand to push your hair away from your face and trace a scarred finger over your soft features. A small smile graced his lips. You hummed, brows furrowing at the feeling of someone touching you. Azriel only moved his hand to continue playing with your hair.

Then you shifted a bit, showing him more of your face before giving him a sleepy smile as you mumbled, voice still thick with sleep, “Good morning.”

Azriel chuckled softly, “Yeah. It is.”

“How long have you been up ?” You asked, moving your head to lay on his bicep.

“A while.” Azriel breathed.

“Why didn’t you wake me up ? I would’ve moved, if you had something to do.”

“You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t.”

Lips curving up into a teasing smile, “So you mean to tell me, the infamous shadowsinger was scared to wake me up ?”

He laughed at that, “Maybe.”

You moved to sit up, the sunlight streaming in behind you making a golden halo around you. Opening your eyes, stretching your arms out, letting out a soft groan. Azriel gasped softly and you froze, “What ?”

“Your eyes, they- they’re glowing and your hands.” He stuttered as he sat up.

Squeezing your eyes shut, taking a deep breath as you willed your powers back into you. Moving further back on the bed - away from him - your voice quiet, “Sorry I- I didn’t meant to scare you.”

He shook his head, reaching for you, this time you didn’t move, not as his hands cradled your face. “Scary? My gods, you’re divine.” He whispered.

Putting your hands atop his, pulling them off your face, whispering, “What if I hurt you ?”

“You could never hurt me, I’d only feel you.”

Tears lined your eyes, bottom lip quivering, “You don’t know that. I can’t control it yet. I could burn you.”

“I’d let you, I don’t want to control your fire. I need to be near it.” He rasped out.

Your eyes flickered between his, the confession in them. He would. He would let you burn him as long as you were touching him. Azriel wanted to stay away longer, let you adjust but you unknowingly called out to him through the bond. He’d come as close to being outside your door, then turn back, afraid he’d ruin it and scare you. Then you and him would end up like Lucien and Elain. “You should go. I don’t want to hurt you.” You mumbled, looking away, not wanting to see the pain in his eyes. Or him the pain in yours.

“From the moment I met you, all those months ago, not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought of you. And now that I’m with you again. . . I’m in agony. The closer I get it to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you- I can’t breathe. I’m haunted by the kiss that you should’ve never have given me. My heart is beating. . . hoping, that kiss will not become a scar. You are in my very soul, Tormenting me. . . What can I do ? –I will do anything that you ask. If you are suffering as much as I am, please, tell me.”

“Kiss me.” You breathed.

His eyes scanned your face, looking for any hesitation, when he found none his lips met yours with an urgent, bruising impact. A desperation that you returned, tracing your tongue over the seam of his lip. You weren’t sure he was breathing. And just to see what he’d do, smirking against his plush lips, you palmed him through his briefs.

He pulled back, throwing his head back in a curse.

You laughed quietly, kissing the scar on his chest from the ash bolt, as he panted. Asking in between the kisses that you were littering down his torso, “Can you keep going ?”

“Your blood healed me,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

You chuckled softly, “So that’s what Rhys wanted it for.” When you laid your palm flat on him again, you asked, “So this is okay ?”

Azriel was still panting, his breathing jagged, “Don’t stop.”

“Maybe. If you ask nicely.”

“Please, Fireheart.” The nickname made your heart flutter. Kissing him once more, teeth tugging on his bottom lip before pulling down his briefs. Mouth going dry at the sight of him, bare for you.

He was all for you.

Then his hands were in hair, his lips smashing into yours. Large scarred hands roaming your body, trying to memorize all the dips and curves of it. Roughly gripping the swell of your ass, making your chest rise up, sensitive peaked nipples rubbing against him. Azriel did it again, swallowing the moan trying to escape your soft lips.

You move your hand down between your bodies, stroking him, earning a grunt out of him. Then he flipped you, laying you flat against the unmade bed. Pulling back, chests heaving as he rips your panties off your body. Groaning at the sight of your glistening slick covered cunt. He fights to tear his eyes away when he hears a whimper leave your lips. Finding his shadows tugging and swirling around your nipples, while your head is thrown back and your eyes screwed shut.

His scarred thumb moving lightly over your clit makes you look at him through half lidded, lust filled eyes. Azriel’s eyes darken, moving to climb over you, caging you in before applying more pressure to your clit. You whine, “Az, Please.”

“What do you need, Fireheart ?” He says rubbing your clit faster.

Your back bows, “You. I need you inside me, Az”

Azriel gives you a wicked smirk as his eyes glint, “Maybe. If you ask nicely.” He taunts, using your words against you.

“Please.” You cry out.

He chuckles darkly, before praising you, “Good girl.”

Then you feel the head of his cock rubbing between your soaked folds. Azriel looks like he’s barely holding himself back, so you give him a soft nod and then he’s pushing into you. The stretch makes your eyes screw shut in pain and pleasure, crying out as he buries himself in your cunt. Rubbing the side of your thigh as he coos praises at you.

When he’s finally all the way into the hilt, breathing heavily, “Look at me.” He commands. As soon as your eyes meet his, your breath hitches. Something in your chest snapped. You could feel it, almost like a glowing thread inside you. Grasping onto it, you gave it tug and his jaw clenched.

Brows furrowing as you asked “What is that ?”

“The mating bond.” He answered.

You gave the bond another hard tug and he clenched his jaw again, “You’re my mate ?”

“I’m yours and you’re mine.” He claimed, tugging back.

Giving him a feral smirk, possessiveness lacing your voice. “You’re mine.”

Azriel chuckles darkly, before leaning back down and putting his arms under your back to hold on to your shoulders. Then he’s pulling slowly out before slamming back in. Grunting lowly, “Fuck you’re tight-” his words making you moan loudly, “-my perfect little mate.” The sound only urged him to go faster, harder - to claim. All you could hear was your whimpers and strangled screams, his low groans and breathy moans, as he snapped his hips at a merciless pace.

The fire in your tummy spreads, as his cock hit that sweet spot inside of you over and over again. His name on your lips was a prayer and he was your god as writhed beneath him. Completely and utterly at his mercy. “Azriel - Azriel - Azriel !” Hips bucking, chasing a high only he could give you, crying out his name as you were right on the edge.

Your body felt like it was on fire, biting his shoulder as your release barreled through you. His pace slowed but he didn’t stop as you fell apart. Noticing the sheets gripped in your hands were now turning to ash. He didn’t care, all that mattered was you and your pleasure. He praised you, “Let go, Fireheart. That’s it, just like that. Good girl.”

Still out of breath as you told him, “I want to get on top.” His pupils flared, then he flipped the both of you, so you were on top. Legs still shaking as you braced your hands on his tattooed chest, lifting almost all the way off before sliding back down. You felt so full in this new position. His hands gripping your hips, helping bounce on him. The sound of your ass smacking his thighs had him throwing his head back and rolling his eyes. Then he looked at you as you let out a noise you hadn’t made before.

Taking your hands off his chest, holding onto his forearms with your head thrown back as your plush lips parted. Azriel’s name is a desperate plea on your lips as your tits bounce wildly in front of him. His shadows, moving to grope them and circle your clit. He couldn’t take it, he needed to feel you against him.

Pulling you to his chest as he rutted into, you barely had enough time to catch yourself, your hands flat on the bed. Eyes squeezing shut as you got lost in the pleasure he was providing. Without realizing your nail grazed his wing - that was currently splayed beneath him - and he whimpered. Azriel actually whimpered. You froze, thinking you’d hurt him but he just continued fucking you.

So you traced a single finger along the bony structure closer to the base of his wings, he tensed slightly before he whimpered again. “Am I hurting you ?”

“Only if you stop.” He grunted.

You did it again, then moved closer to the base of his wing. Your nail lightly scraping over the smaller ridges that were there. The walls of your cunt fluttering around him as his cock twitched inside of you in response to your touch. A soft whimper falling from his lips before he cursed as you continued exploring his wings.

Azriel hips stuttered, his voice a desperate breathy hiss, “T- There ! Right there.” As you applied more pressure to one of the small ridges. “Please !” He begged, tipping his head back, hazel eyes screwed shut as he shivered in pleasure. “Does that feel good, baby ?” You whispered in his ear, voice sounding like pure sin.

“Mhmm… Fuck.” He groaned.

Placing a kiss on his neck, right below his ear, “Good boy.” You praise.

He rolled his hips against yours, the pace frenzied and erratic. Adding a little more pressure to his wing and his hips stuttered, shadows moving between the two of you, pinching your nipples and rubbing your clit.

His hands dig into your hips, hard enough to bruise as you bite his shoulder again. Azriel bucked into you a few more times, he gave one last deep thrust as he spilled into you, your name on his lips as he fell apart.

Your walls spasming and contracting, milking every drop of his seed as the both of you fell over the edge together. His shadows finally stop their assault on your overly sensitive nipples and clit, moving to push his and your hair away from your faces. Then Azriel shifts you a little, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead.

His lips still against your forehead as he pants softly, “I love you, Fireheart.”

He moves to lean his forehead against yours and then you breathe, “I love you.”

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

[lizardboiii]

XOXO, UR DUFF♡

꒰ ft. Kuroo Tetsurō x reader x Bokuto Kōtarō, slight Oikawa Tōru x reader

synopsis: finding out Aoba Johsai High School's volleyball team refers to you as the school's duff sends you into a teenaged panic. your two childhood friends take it upon themselves to help you out. the opposite of a duff? a slut.

cw: NSFW, 18+, hurt/comfort, threesome, dom/sub undertones, dumbification, slut shaming, non-con coercion, double pentration, all characters are represented as 18/19 yrs old

wc: 2.7k

"Like any unloved thing, I don't know if I'm real when I'm not being touched." - Natalie Wee

Maybe you soared too high - beared your teeth too wide. The fall from grace was longer than the climb, allowing scotching shame to burn away any feelings you still carried. Oikawa Tōru had played you for a fool. 

Otherwise, after a week of walking you to class and buttering up your fragile heart. He wouldn't have asked you if your best friend, Emi, was single. 

Propping himself up on your desk, Oikawa’s thick hands supported the bulk of his weight. His form seemingly dripped with unease. If you listened closely enough, you could hear the sound of his sneakers shifting beneath him. 

You hated every moment of it.

The star volleyball captain had just made it clear he never had any intentions of courting you. All he saw was a gateway to Emi. An easy in.

You paused for just a moment. Thoughts of confronting the man above you ate at your skin. You wanted to scream. Rage at him. Ask him why he led you on. He could have easily asked out Emi without your assistance. Was there a reason to ask you other than to be cruel?

But you didn't. 

Instead you smiled warmly, swallowing your pride, “Ya, Emi’s single.”

Oikawa’s grin brightened, “You can put in a good word for me right? Since we're friends n’ all?”

The corner of your mouth twitched.

“Of course.”

・❥・

A kick to the front leg of your desk rattled the metal. You flinched at the noise. Body tensing, you refused to greet the offender. Finding it easier to stay hidden in your arms on top of your desk.

“What’s up with you?”

Teary eyed, you finally looked up from your crossed arms to the deep voice above you, Iwaizumi Hajime. You internally groaned at the sight of him. Iwaizumi was the last person you wanted to see right now, aside from his flamboyant captain.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “I think Oikawa likes Emi.”

Iwaizumi huffed, “I ​​could've guessed that.”

“What?” You searched his eyes for an answer, “You knew?”

“Ya,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “Whole team does.”

Clenching your teeth, you balled your hands in frustration, “Then why did he even bother talking to me? He should've just went straight to her!”

Iwaizumi shrugged, “It's probably because you're her Duff.”

You felt the pit in your stomach drop, “Her what?”

“Ya know, her Duff. Designated Ugly Fat Friend,” he said it as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

The information hit you like a truck, “Excuse me!? I am not her “Duff”!”

Iwaizumi shifted uncomfortably, “Hate to break it to you, but…I think everyone is aware you’re Emi’s Duff other than yourself.” 

You fake laughed, “I think I'd know if people were calling me that.”

“It's not that big a deal. Just means you're more approachable,” he searched for his next words, “I mean it's easier to ask you if Emi’s single rather than face the embarrassment if not.”

Iwaizumi’s statement left you breathless, “Face the embarrassment? What about me!? Oikawa led me on for a week just to ask if Emi was single!”

He brushed you off, “It’s not like you're the only one. Girls come up to the team all the time to ask about Oikawa.”

Seething, you stood up from your chair haphazardly, “You know what? Screw you!” The screech of your chair echoed across the room, “I’m not just some thoughtless NCP you guys can use to help get laid!”

Iwaizumi frowned, “You know I didn't mean it like that.”

You didn't bother to respond, favoring to storm out of the mostly empty classroom. You’d prove to them all you could be more than just Emi’s Duff. You just needed to figure out how to first.

・❥・

“Can you believe he said that to me?!” Sitting on top of Bokuto’s bed, you straddled the pillow you were holding in anger, “I am not a Duff!”

Bokuto hummed below you, focusing more on the controller in his hand rather than what you were saying, “Didn’tcha only go on one date?”

Cackling, Kuroo bumped shoulders with Bokuto, “There wasn’t even a date. He just walked her tah’ class.”

Your face burned, “He carried my books! Who does that other than someone who cares!?”

Kuroo tilted his face back at you, resting his head on the bed, “Yer’ joking, right?”

Frowning, you swiped at Kuroo’s face with the pillow in your hands. The comb head merely caught the pancaked pillow with his dominant hand, ripping the fabric away from you. Then, he shot the pillow at your head, hard. You reacted quickly, lifting your hands up in defense. The pillow thumped pathetically against your forearms. 

Flipping him off, you tossed the pillow back at the headboard, “You always play too rough!”

A wild grin plastered itself on his face, “What? I thought girls liked it rough?”

You threw him a disgusted look, “Don’t be a freak.”

Chuckling, Kuroo’s already large smile grew impossibly wider. Clearly satisfied at your obvious discomfort.

Groaning at Kuroo’s smug smirk, you flopped backward on the bed, “It’s not fair! Emi always has a boyfriend and I’ve yet to have even one.” You emphasized the number with your finger.

Passing off the controller, Bokuto stretched his hands above his head, “Who cares? Ya don’t need a boyfriend anyways,” He pointed a thumb at himself, “You got us!”

“Says you! Both you and Ku have had girlfriends,” You flipped onto your stomach, “I feel like I'm missing out.”

Lip curled, Bokuto threw himself on top of the bed and grabbed your smaller form, “Aww, our poor sweet (y/n)!”

You wrestled against his tight bear hug, “Lemme’ go, Airhead!”

Bokuto smiled, “Never!”

Your legs intertwined as you tried to slither free from Bokuto’s relentless hold. However, the older male easily subdued you. Pushing and pulling you every which way. Eventually, Bokuto relented and slid you into his lab, wrapping his arms around your midriff. 

You huffed at his antics. It wasn't the first time Bokuto forced you into his lab - and you were sure it wasn't the last. Yet, that didn't stop the way your heart squeezed when his chest pressed up against your back. Or the way you shivered when he slotted his head into the crook of your neck.

It certainly didn't stop the way you secretly liked how Kuroo watched.

Face burning, you chewed on your lip. You were sick. Friends shouldn't be thinking this way about each other. Especially not when you have known eachother since diapers. You internally sighed. It's not like they'd be interested in you anyways. Who’d want to be with a designated Duff?

“Sometimes I wish I was more like Emi...”

The thought slipped out of your mouth without your brain's approval. Meek and mild. Your quiet voice sent the room into an abrupt silence. You had little time to curse at yourself before Kuroo’s uncontrollable laughter broke through the stillness. 

Dropping the gaming controller, Kuroo moved calculatedly. His toned body slowly crawling its way on top of the bed, joining you and Bokuto. Your breath hitched at the sight. If you didn't know any better, you thought you might be eaten alive.

Kuroo reached you at an agonizing pace. His hands moved to rest on your knees while Bokuto’s stayed on your waist, “Ya wanna’ be like Emi, huh?”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you ignored the close proximity, “She always gets so much attention. I just wanna know what that feels like. Just once.”

Sulking, you missed the subtle glance Kuroo and Bokuto exchanged. Sly and cunning. The grip of their calloused hands tightened ever so slightly.

“Ya know why Emi keeps gettin’ so much attention?” 

Sinking back into Bokuto, you swallowed, “Because she's pretty?”

“Nope,” Kuroo’s grin widened as he slotted himself between your legs, “It’s ‘cause she’s a slut.”

Slut.

The word made your heart pang, “E-Emi’s not like that!”

Kuroo let out a scoff, “Course’ she is. You wanna be like that? A slut?”

Squirming, you tried to remove Kuroo from in between your legs. An action proving to be difficult very quickly, “No! I just don’t wanna be the school’s Duff anymore!”

Unimpressed, Kuroo’s large hands hooked under your knees and wrapped your legs around his waist. You only struggled harder. The thought of being trapped between the two large men was starting to make your head spin. 

Writhing in Bokuto’s hold, you halted when he groaned softly in your ear, “...Bo?”

“Look at that, Kitten,” Kuroo kneaded the fat of your thigh, “Already practicing.”

Bokuto buried his face deeper into your neck, nipping at the skin, “Ya wanna practice that bad, sweetheart?”

“I think she does, Bo,” Kuroo laughed cruelly, “Just look at her. Gettin’ ya hard already.”

Bokuto whined, “Can’t help it. She keeps rubbin’ that plump ass against my dick.”

On que, Bokuto’s hands shifted from your waist to your hips. His thick digits dug into your skin as he began to move your hips for you. Grinding his half hard cock into your clothed ass.

Your face was a molten red at the action, “Stop!”

“Please, sweetheart. Feels so good,” Bokuto’s words slurred as he grinded your bodies together.

You mewled, “We can’t!”

Kuroo snatched you chin, forcing your attention back on him, “Thought you were tired of bein’ the Duff?”

You could feel the beginnings of tears brimming your eyes, “I am!”

He smiled sickly sweet, “How are you gonna prove um’ wrong if ya can’t even do this?”

Swallowing thickly, your lips quivered, “I’m scared.”

Kuroo bore a mocking expression, “Sluts don’t get scared.”

Your whimper was cut off by Kuroo’s plump lips. The kiss was sloppy, desperate even. Kuroo’s tongue exploring your mouth like he owned it. Immediately, his hand found its way into your hair, tugging you further into the kiss. You cried against his mouth. Clutching at his wrist, you held on as he devoured you. 

Below you Bokuto shifted. His hand plunged its way into his sweats, pulling out his weeping cock, “Ku, lemme’ lift her up.”

Kuroo pulled away from your mouth, a string of saliva following in suit, “So impatient you owl bastard.”

You had little time to gasp for air as Bokuto’s hands replaced Kuroo’s. His hands wrapped under the pits of your knees swifty. Lifting up your legs, you gasped when his exposed cock made contact with your thin shorts. 

“Bo, wait!”

Bokuto ignored your small pleas. Sliding his cock against the fabric, he traced the shape of your pussy, “Sweetheart, you’ll lemme’ put it in, right?”

You squeaked when he tried to push up, the fabric of your shorts keeping him out, “You can’t go in raw!”

Bokuto groaned when Kuroo clutched his length, rubbing him harder against your slowly dampening shorts. You whined at the attention. Your hole clenching everytime Kuroo massaged your clit with the head of Bokuto’s cock.

Kuroo purred, “Ya feel that, Kitten? See how good yer makin’ Bo feel?

A sobbed rocked through your chest, “No.”

Clicking his tongue, Kuroo pulled at the hem of your shorts, “Still playin’ difficult, slut?”

You suddenly regretted wearing such short shorts. Kuroo managed to pull them off you in record time, only readjusting Bokuto’s hold on you once. As quickly as the shorts were off - Bokuto was on you.

The head of his cock slid against your folds with an obscene sound, “Please lemme’ put it in, sweetheart. Please, please.” You could feel his hips snap against your ass every time he slid up and down your pussy.

The cord in your stomach slowly began to pull. The feeling of his cock rubbing against your clit was almost enough to send you over the edge. You wanted more. No. You needed more.

Whimpering, your breath hitched as his cock prodded your entrance, “Bo, please!”

“Ya hear that, Bo?” You could hear the smirk on Kuroo’s face, “Slut needs a fat cock to fill ‘er up.”

Growling, Bokuto wasted no time before shoving his cock into your entrance. You cried out at the intrusion. Unprepared, your tight hole stretched painfully around his cock. It felt as if he had split you in two.

Kuroo hushed your cries, “Poor, Kitten. I’ll make it better.” His fingers made their way to your dripping pussy, circling your neglected clit.

“Ku!” You moaned at the touch. The burning sensation in your torn hole was slowly replaced by dull pleasure.

“So tight for me, Sweetheart,” Bokuto slowly pulled out before slamming back in, “So fuckin’ perfect.”

You shuddered at his words, “Too much!”

Sucking on your neck, Bokuto groaned, “Just gettin’ started.”

You flinched when Kuroo’s fingers traced down from your clit to your entrance. His caloused pointer nudged at your puffy hole.

“Look how much yer’ stretchin’ her, Bo,” He slowly added a finger to your already stuffed entrance, “Bet we can stretch it further.”

You sobbed at the invasion, “It won’t fit!”

Kuroo’s darkened eyes made you squirm, “We’ll make it fit.”

One finger soon turned into three as Kuroo worked your already sore pussy open. You wailed loudly. Finally, the feeling of fingers leaving your hole made you sign in relief. The full feeling in your stomach slightly dissipating. 

Until you felt something much larger.

Kuroo placed his hand on your waist as he lined the head of his cock against your hole. You tensed at the sight. Bokuto hissed in your ear, surprised by the sudden clench of your pussy.

“Loosen up, Sweetheart,” Bokuto kissed the crown of your head

A small mewl escaped your lips, “There's no way!”

The men above you rubbed small circles into your skin, attempting to relax your tensed muscles. You moaned at the affection. Body loosening, you shoved your face into Kuroo’s chest as he pushed in.

“There we go, Sweetheart. So good fer' us,” Bokuto hummed against the back of your neck.

The initial stretch of your walls burned intensely. Even with prep, you still felt like you’d tear up the middle.

 “So full,” you mumbled incoherently. Unable to focus on anything other than the cocks filling your already bullied hole.

“Gonna start movin’, kay?” Kuroo’s cock bottomed out before you could even respond. 

They moved opposite of eachother. Bokuto’s cock slamming deep into your pussy while Kuroo’s dragged out of your weeping hole painfully slow. It was enough to drive you insane. You moaned shamelessly, far too drunk on cock to care how slutty you looked.

“Yer’ takin’ us so well, kitten,” Kuroo bit into your neck, leaving a trail of marks, “Like you were made for this.”

You quivered under his touch, “Want more, please.”

Bokuto’s hands slithered under your shirt, “Ya already want more?” His hands moved to unclasp your bra, “Such a slut.”

You bit your lip as Bokuto found his way to your sensitive buds, “Yes, sir.”

“Sir?” Bokuto licked up your neck, “Ya hear that, Ku? She really was meant tah’ be a slut.”

You could barely comprehend Kuroo’s response. Your ears felt like they were filled with cotton as the pressure in your stomach increased. Instinctively, your hips jerked against their movements. You were so close.

“Need tah’ cum, Kitten?” Kuroo fisted your hair, “Ya gotta ask nicely.”

Hot tears streamed down your face at the unreleased pressure in your abdomen, “Please let me cum, sir. Please, I wanna cum so bad.”

Kuroo traced his tongue up your cheek, savoring the salty taste, “Whaddya’ think, Bo? Should the slut be allowed to cum?”

Bokuto traced his fingers from your breast to your clit, “Maybe just this once.”

The chord in your stomach snapped as soon as you were granted permission. Head thrown back, a porn star moan fell from your lips. Your vision went white with pleasure. Long and intense, you trembled in Bokuto’s hold. 

Your chest heaved as your legs gave out, yet Kuroo and Bokuto remained relentless. Continuing their abuse on your sloppy pussy, they pushed you further over the edge.

You whined in overstimulation, “No more.”

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Bokuto ran his fingers through your hair, “We ain't done yet.”

Your eyes widened, “W-what?”

Kuroo smirked, “We haven't cum yet, Slut.”

・❥・

[obeymefictionwriting]

Wehehehe >:^D angst if u don’t mind

Uuhhhhhhh situation: MC and a brother/dateable (if u wanna) broke up (kinda messy so they ended on ehhhh terms) and they still kinda have feelings for MC

Can u do the brother’s/dateable’s reaction/thoughts to MC basically courting their opposite (example Lucifer’s opposite would probably be Levi, Mammons opposite would be Belphie, ect ect)

Even if u don’t wanna, I hope ya have a great day 🫶🫶🫶🫶

I love a bit of angst so let's go!

UPDATE: guys, it's really angsty lol i'm so sorry

Lucifer:

As an Avatar of Pride, he didn't admit his mistakes and he didn't admit that he was way too controlling, arrogant, and insensitive to your feelings.

As he now watches you hang out with Levi, he feels blind rage swelling in his chest. He can't believe he let you go and you know tend to someone so...bland and shut-in.

When he hears you giggle in Levi's room or see you two reading the same manga, he feels bitter as the two of you never seemed to spend time together like that.

He tried talking to you once. Well, he basically grabbed your wrist and forced you to stay where you were standing while he started spitting out his thoughts and emotions.

You just walked away, without even looking back. He heard you crying in Levi's room later.

"Weak and useless", he mutters whenever Levi is in his sight. His hands clench in fists as he is absolutely helpless about the situation and it drives him insane.

Mammon:

Okay, maybe he told you all these things but you cry easily anyway and at first, he didn't even feel guilty

He was sure you'd miss going out with him and he spent countless nights fantasizing how he will reluctantly take you back

Now he sees you spending all your time at home, with Belphie.

Just fucking HoL, sitting on the damn couch like two elderly people in a nursing home.

He passed you once or twice, in his best outfit, wearing expensive perfume and purposefully talking on the phone with a pretty witch

You never lifted your eyes on him

You never lifted your eyes from Belhie as he lied on your knees, telling you some bullshit made-up stories

He hates you for being able to move on to something more stable, something that he was never capable of giving

Leviathan:

He barely watched his words during this last argument and that was the end

With you, his life had some sort of meaning. Now, it turned into a pitch-black tunnel again

Watching you with Lucifer hurts him so badly he could never imagine

Lucifer is the epitome of everything you wanted him to be and he never even tried

At nights, he howl alone in his room, softening his screams with a pillow, wishing you heard him and come back

When he lifts his head from the pillow, he sometimes hears you being in the Lucifer's room - all the sounds so well known to him.

With every little moan and every little sigh that he hears from you being in Lucifer's arms, his heart shatters again and again until there is nothing left of it

Satan:

He never meant to say all these words and he never meant to scare you so much

His possesiveness played a cruel joke on him and you are gone forever now, dating calm and cheerful Beelzebub instead

The worst thing is that despite being older, he feels weak compared to Beel and he hates himself for that

He once caught you in the hall and pinned you to the wall, trying to force a kiss

Beel slammed him down while you stared in horror at the blood dripping on the floor

He never spoke to you or Beel again

Sometimes he hits the wall till his knuckles bleed, imagining it's Beel

Sometimes he cries, pressing your scarf to his chest, inhaling its scent and imagining it's you

Asmodeus:

He didn't talk to you till that damn day when he saw you out with Barbatos

Barbatos? Really? A fucking butler?

He was very proud of the speech he gave you when he approached you and made fun of your downgrade

After that, he locked himself in the room

He broke all his mirrors because in every mirror he saw the ghost of your smile when you used to hug him from behind and laugh happily

He once got down to breakfast without a hint of makeup and with messy hair

He looks exactly how he feels: crumbling into pieces

Beelzebub:

The only thing that hurts more than your scratchmarks on his back were your words about leaving him

He never thought you needed more...passion. Though he would call it uncontrollable wrath, considering you left for Satan

When he sees you with hickeys and other marks on your beautiful skin, he clenches his fists so tight it hurts

He can't really explain to himself when it all went wrong but one day, you were just gone

He know thinks he is just a big stupid jock if he was never able to see your fiesty and wild side

He made you cupcakes to try and apologise but you smashed them on the wall

When your eyes meet in the dining room, he feels sick to the stomach and can't finish his plate

Belphegor:

Mammon, really? Like he cares

He now sleeps almost 24/7 and doesn't sometimes respond to Beel trying to wake him up

At least in his dreams he can apologize for what he did

In reality, he knows you hate him and he feels it growing on his skin, like an icy shell

He hates how confidently Mammon looks and talks

He observes how you now glow, being able to finally go out and enjoy all the wonderful life outside, the one he was keeping so fiercely away from you

Sometimes in his dreams, you tell him you forgive him

Then he wakes up though he sometimes wishes he didn't

[tasteofthedivine93]

The Beauty of the Beast - Messmer x F!Reader - Elden Ring Fic - Part 9

TasteOfTheDivine // Masterlist

Ao3: archiveofourown.org/works/57094387/chapters/146244445 Fic Rating: Explicit🌶️🌶️ (Chapter: Explicit🌶️🌶️) Category: F/M Fandom: Elden Ring // Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erd Tree Relationships: Messmer x F!Reader // Messmer the Impaler x F!Reader Warnings/Tags: F!Masturbation // M!Masturbation // Half human/half-monster appendages // Accidental VoyeurismWords: 2539

MASTERLIST // <- Part 8 // Part 10 ->

Author note: PLEASE NOTE THE RATING CHANGE! Sorry to those who wanted a cute fairy-tale fic. I can't help myself.  Thought about keeping it M but that's boring.

Just a naughty filler chapter.

Also, you know that noise he makes after pulling out his eye...that "phew"/"phft" that one? Yeah you know that one, think of that later. 👀

Carefully, you shut the door with a click. You lean back against the wood, letting your head smack against it. You shake your head, trying to forget your lust and disappointment and recall the sentimental moments, the pure romantic and tender moments as you danced. 

You raise your hand to the exposed area of your chest, feeling how warm you are. You give in and smile to yourself, letting the butterflies bloom in your stomach again.

You slowly strip off your luxurious dress, the fabric slowly falling off your shoulders and down your hips. You stand naked by the door, you pray that Messmer changes his mind and comes to get you. You know you’d open the door fully naked if he did. 

Instead silence, except your heavy breathing, is heard. Sighing, you step away from the door and crawl into the bed. Pouting you bury your head in the pillow, but the rough fabric of the sheet grazes your nipples and you let out a sigh. You had to finish what you started earlier. 

For a moment though you hesitate, your mind was swimming in lustful thoughts, yes, but should that be the end to a romantic evening? You’re inexperienced in the ways of courting. You sit up for a moment and think, feeling nervous. You bury your head into your hands and hate yourself for overthinking it. 

You knew you needed this release, the amount of physical contact you’ve had with Messmer the last few days was more than you've had in your lifetime it feels like. You flop back down on the bed and close your eyes, chest rising and falling. You tell yourself not to overthink it. You wrap your arms around yourself in a soothing self embrace. You try to empty your mind. 

You let your hands slip down over your chest, you cup the swell of your breast and let your thumbs swipe over your nipples, the sensation shooting pleasure down to your core. You gently pinch your nipples and let out a moan. They stand to attention immediately.  

Turning on your side, you cover yourself with the sheet for some privacy (you never know when an apparition is lurking or watching). You reach down between your legs, fingers tracing over your stomach and patch of thick hair. You ignore your clit and move around it, you dip your finger between your mound and feel the wetness between your folds, it coats your fingers in thick slick and you let out a whimper at the sensation. 

You didn’t realise you were that wet, enough for it to be dripping down your thigh. You gently part your folds like petals, feeling how sensitive and puffy they were. You let your finger run through the seams, spreading the wetness. You toy with your clit, the dampness making your fingers glide smoothly over the hood, you let out a hiss at the pleasure. 

You grind against your own fingers, feeling the pressure already building despite hardly touching yourself. Your face feels hot and sweaty, you let out a rather loud moan and you feel a lightning strike as your clit pulses. You think of Messmer, how close you were, you could have kissed him, you should have. 

Maybe you’d be in his bed, under him, him inside you instead of your own fingers playing with yourself. You glide your fingers lower till you feel the source of your wetness, you tease your hole gently with one finger. Slowly you sink the digit in, grazing that soft sweet spot that has your thighs convulsing, shaking with pleasure. 

It's not enough, you think and slowly sink in another. You feel so close. You move your other hand to your clit and circle the bud, feeling your orgasm ready to snap. You pump your fingers in your hole faster, the obscene sound of your wetness makes you blush. You hold your breath and quicken your pace, you’re not in the mood for a long session, you just need the release. 

You let out mewls of pleasure, you feel a small sheen of sweat on your brow and down your back. Your arms are already starting to ache from the movements. You knit your brows and circle your clit faster. Thoughts filled with Messmer's touches, his thick arms, beautiful face. 

You thrust your hips into your hands, grazing over that sweet spot once more, enough to finally send you over the edge and you’re overcome with your orgasm, warmth pooling in your stomach sending fire through your veins. You gush over your fingers as you press against that sweet spot inside you. 

Your fingers and thighs shake. You moan and pant, you keep swirling your fingers over your clit, drawing out your orgasm as long as you can. Your body twitches with pleasure and you whisper out Messmer as you climax. 

You remove your fingers from your hole, glistening with your wetness, you wipe them on your inner thigh and feel your limbs suddenly go limp with ecstasy. You press your face into the pillow, breathing heavy as the wash of dopamine settles your muscles. 

Tenderly you close your eyes, blinking away the few tears that line your waterline. Your body shivers on the comedown of your orgasm, the afterglow washing over you. You’re hit with a wave of emotions, but slowly you feel the tender embrace of sleep come over you. 

You remember what a long day it’s been, you suddenly feel exhausted. You tug the sheet under your chin and let out a long breath, waiting for sleep to take you over.

***

Messmer stands against his chamber door, head resting back on the wood with a thud. He still has a grip on the handle, wanting to exit the room and return to you. Instead he pushes himself away from the wood and walks over to the Ember that’s still burning but getting dimmer by the day. He frowns and lets his fingers glide through the flame with ease, not burning him at all. 

He fears his curse will someday take hold, the grace in his face will fail and the serpent under his skin will finally take its final form and burst from his core. He shakes his head, trying to remove the negative thoughts and ruin such a perfect evening. 

He picks up the small viewing mirror and cradles it in his palm, he tilts it so he can see his reflection, his golden eye shining orange, refracting the Ember. He sighs as he recalls looking up at you, like a saint or deity, how you smiled so bright and fit so well in his arms. 

He feels himself wanting to return to you, to burst open your bedroom door and hold you tight, touch you. But he holds himself back, he worries you’re just being kind to him for your own sake, he did trap you here after all. He’s also worried he’ll scare you off, that he kept you here for only his lustful desires. 

He shakes his head again, getting annoying by the shadow the pessimistic thoughts are casting over the positive ones. He recalls you laughing when devouring the food, how you smiled at him when he threw away his cutlery, how you shine bright like the sun in his presents. He thinks about your soft neck,  the swell of your breasts near his face, the sweet smell of you so close to him. Your hooded sultry eyes, public fully dilated with desire. 

Messmer lets out a groan as he feels his cock start to twitch, he covers himself with his palm to stop it from growing, but the pressure makes him let out a whimper. 

He hasn’t touched himself in ages, he can't even recall the last time. Despite living alone in his castle and having no romantic companion, he never felt the urge to pleasure himself till you came along. 

He tightens his grip around the small mirror so firm he worries it might crack. Steadily he plods over to his bed and settles down gently. Ophis and Fidi are still wrapped around his shoulders, asleep for the night. He sinks onto the bed, letting out a sigh. He looks up at his door, hoping it would crack open and you would step inside. But no, the door remained shut. 

Crawling into bed (and onto a mountain of pillows to support his back and protruding snakes), Messmer sighs and thinks about you, your smile, your laugh, your gentle touches and caring nature. He wished to see you once more before his slumber, as if to dream of you as if you’re not just down the hallway. 

He lifts the small mirror to his face, seeing his reflection, his tired eyes and ashen skin.

“Show me the maiden,” he whispers.

His reflection is soon distorted, swirls of gold and silver shimmer on the glass and soon he sees your sleeping figure.

His stomach flips at the sight of you, despite only seeing you moments ago. He watches as you twitch, your face furrowed. He feels his smile drop and his cock twitch as he notices the movement of the sheet over your body - he notices your parted lips then taking the bottom between your teeth. 

Your shoulders move up and down and your covered arm writhes back and forward. The outline of your hand moving between your legs and you twitch. He hears you groan as if in pain, but soon his brain catches up with his ears and realised you weren’t in pain, but he heard your delicious moans.

Quickly, Messmer slams the mirror down onto the bed, his cheeks red hot and his mouth dry. He caught you touching yourself. He brings his hand to cover his mouth in shock. He feels a twang of mortification in his stomach for spying on you, but even worse to be spying on you during such an intimate moment. 

His embarrassment becomes overlooked as he feels his cock finally grow from semi to hard, tenting his tunic and becoming sensitive to the thick fabric around his waist. He lets out a gasp, unsure what to do with himself. 

His mind swimming with the image of you, right now, down the hall, playing with yourself. He removes his hand from his mouth and grips the bedsheet hard so he could tear the fibres. He pictures your sweet naked body, soft and perfect for him, your skin tone glowing under candle light. 

He feels a layer of sweat form on his brow. His breathing laboured and his mouth uncomfortably dry. Without thinking, he pulls his tunic over his hips and lets his hardened member spring free, he looks down at it and returns to his ashamed state. 

Messmer, cursed with the serpents touch, doesn’t sport a natural human cock, no, his cock looks like two together, one larger on top but a smaller encased underneath but sheathed together with thick dusky pink skin and protruding veins either side. The head shaped normally with a slight point towards the slit, and already leaking from arousal. Luckily, not much bigger than a human cock despite his size.

His cheeks flush as he stares at his unusual cock, fear flashing through his mind at you ever seeing it. He bites his lower lip between his teeth, fingertips gently gliding down his taut stomach, over the patch of thick vivid red hair and he gently wraps his hand around the base and squeezes lightly. 

He hisses at the feeling, fire burning in his stomach. He gives himself a few tugs, his calloused hand causing an unpleasant friction, a small whimper and moan leaves his slender lips. He lets his palm slither over the tip, collecting the dribbling pre-cum pearling on his slit to use as lubrication. 

He feels like a teenager again, awkward and unsure but also unnaturally horny. He goes back to pumping himself slowly, feeling the pressure building up in the base of his cock. He shifts on his pillows, spreading his legs more as he rests his head back and thinking about you. 

More images of you touching yourself invades his mind, thinking about how wet you must have been when he held you. He wished he touched you, kissed your neck, squeezed your plump hips. 

A shiver runs up his spine, his hips slowly rocking into his fist as his movements get faster, the crude sound of him and his occasional whimpers was rare. He recalls your sweet moans, muffled by the mirror's power but still so pleasant. 

The head of his cock leaks more pre-cum as he feels his hips shudder and twitch, just like you. He opens his eyes, hoping to see you standing there in that dress, slowly taking it off and showing him your perfect body. Instead he sees nothing but an empty charred room.

An expletive falls from his lips as he feels the heat in his veins start to bubble, he starts to panic as he notices small flickers of fire coming off his skin. Burning off into the air before hitting the bedsheet. His brows furrowed and his panting becoming rapid. 

“No, no no,” he stutters as the lick of his first orgasm in years shoots through his cock, the pressure unbearable. He grabs his bed sheet tight with his free hand, pulling it to his mouth to cover his moans. 

He squeezes his eyes tight, a final few pumps and he orgasms, hard. Spend flies out of him, thick and white, he can’t stop his movements even as his cock runs extremely sensitive. He draws out his orgasm, more spurts of cum cover his hand and stomach. 

He moans loud, luckily he’s able to muffle the noise into the sheets in his grip. He squeezes the last few drops out before letting go of his slowly softening cock. 

Messmer closes his eyes, tears nearly falling from the corners and he lets out a shuddering ‘phft’. With his clean hand, he covers his face, a mixture of emotions washes over him - joy, fear, disgust, lust. 

Opening his eyes, he looks down at the bedsheet to see a small hole still burning in the fabric. His eyes go wide. He didn’t realise he sparked a flame from his climax. He throws his head back in anger. 

“I don’t want to burn her.” He whispers to himself. 

He lies in his afterglow for a moment, letting his muscles relax. But he starts to feel his spend become sticky and uncomfortable on skin. Weakly he rises from his bed and cleans himself up with the water by his bed. 

He feels his snakes around his shoulders twitch and wiggle. He pats them over his cloak. He recalls his youth when he first started to pleasure himself, how awkward it was with his companions there, but also not at the same time - since they were a part of him. 

Letting out a sigh, he collapses back onto his mountain of pillows and rests his hand on his stomach and the other above his head. Staring up at the char mark on his ceiling. He lets his euphoria wash over him and lull into a slumber, he hopes to dream of you. 

[ofsappho]

Heartless

🔞 Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience, smut in the next chapter (and the chapters after).

Reader is disabled/chronically ill (and so is the author)

You need health insurance. Ghost is sick of sharing living quarters with the rest of the 141. Soap, your childhood friend, thinks the two of you can fix each other’s problems.

Or, Ghost and you have to convince his command that you didn’t just meet each other and your marriage is totally, completely, 100% legit. Not for any, more practical reasons. And, of course, your married-couple accommodations only have one bed.

Chapter 1:

This will either be the stupidest decision you’ve ever made or the greatest stroke of brilliance you’ve ever had. And there is no in-between.

When Soap ducks his head into the coffee shop, you’re more than a little relieved to see him in one piece, plus or minus a few silvery scars scattered across his face and peeking out of his sleeves, the collar of his jacket.

And the dumbass aviators you bought him as a high school graduation present hang from the dip of his shirt. You know Soap thinks he looks badass, but the placement reminds you more of ‘Patagonia dad who likes hiking’ than it does ‘mysterious hardened special forces dude.’

He’s so built that he has to carefully pick his way between crowded tables, just so he doesn’t knock over someone’s drink or trip into a random stranger’s elbow.

You more or less tackle him into the biggest hug you can. “Soap! You’re not dead!” Ever since he joined his super-duper-top-secret whatever the fuck, you’ve gotten used to the communication dead zones in your years-long friendship. The silence never stops worrying you, though.

Johnny chuckles and practically lifts you off your feet. “Neither are you! Congratulations!” You know he’s relieved to see you as well by the way he ruffles your hair.

You fucking hate it when he does that, which is, of course, why it’s become a tradition every time you see him.

He pisses you off, you piss him off. “Twinning!”

The glare he tosses your way has all the menace of a kitten attacking a curtain. “Fuck does that mean? You know I can’t keep up with your American slang.” You’re a good friend who pre-ordered his ridiculous caramel latte with extra caramel, and Soap sits happily in front of it.

He learned that he enjoyed heart-stoppingly sweet drinks on accident - a case of mistaken identity where you unintentionally grabbed Soap’s macho Americano, and he drank half of your caramel latte in revenge. And here you are, years later, watching him slurp down a milk foam heart.

“Awww, too much for the brain cells you have left?” Teasing him as easy as breathing and a welcome distraction for the anxiety attack-inducing question you must ask.

The general coffee shop ambient noise swells in your ears. An espresso machine malfunctions, almost loud enough to make you jump, and you try to disguise it by sipping your iced tea. No caffeine; you’re nervous enough without it.

“I could have you arrested for that,” Soap quips. Please. As if you’d let him try. One call to his commanding officer about his pre-service shenanigans, and you’d have his ass court-martialed.

“Abuse of the power of the Armed Forces? Very ethical.” You raise an eyebrow and lace your voice with haughtiness, even flicking some hair over your shoulder.

Then you need to pass Johnny a few napkins to mop up the latte dripping from his nose out of laughter. “I’m glad to see you,” He tells you, and the sober, knowing look in his eyes makes your stomach drop out. He doesn’t miss a thing. He’d probably be dead or fired from his job if he did. “Though I know this isn’t a social call.”

Well. You’re in for it now. “Yeah, unfortunately, it isn’t.” The words taste like dust in your mouth, and the lemony-black tea barely washes it out. Just to give yourself something to do, you pop the plastic lid off and tip a couple of ice cubes into your mouth before chomping down.

“What’s going on?”

How do you summarize the horrifically, brutally stressful whirlwind of the last few weeks without inspiring the annoying, patronizing pity you’ve gotten from literally everyone else you’ve vented to? You’re not a victim to be coddled or a child to be given advice you’ve already thought of, tried, and failed at.

“I’m losing my health insurance at the end of the month” is what you decide on in the end.

He knows exactly what that means for you. For your future. Soap shakes his head ruefully. “God, I’m so sorry.”

You’ve been sick for a while, diagnosed the year after the two of you graduated high school. The kind of sick that is simply a freak accident of nature, causing your body to attack itself over and over until the day you’ll drop dead from complications. It wouldn’t take much; maybe a regular infection burning you alive with a fever your crippled immune system can’t stop, or a benign cut from a kitchen knife that will bleed and bleed until you’re halfway to the coroner’s office.

And then there’s your shitty, damaged, degenerated spine that keeps you in bed for weeks at a time with crippling, numbing pain.

Without health insurance, things won’t look good for your quality of life. And you like your quality of life to be decent. You’d settle for passable.

Really, it sounds worse than it is, and you try to console him. “It’s okay. It was eventually going to happen. I had hoped to have a little more time, though.” You remember the call from the insurance company like it just happened yesterday. You were loading dishes into the dishwasher and listening to Fleetwood Mac on the radio. And some poor customer service representative told you they were increasing your monthly payments beyond what they knew you could afford, so they’d have to drop you.

You watch him open his mouth as if to tell you that you should’ve said something sooner. But he’s been deployed for the past four months. He pauses and resets to something a little more helpful. “How can I help?” That’s something you have liked about Johnny a lot since you were kids. He cares more about what he can do.

Your anxiety permits your lungs to take one big, fortifying inhale. “Well…” Dragging it out will only make this worse, you know, but you really, really, really hate that it’s come to this. “This is fucking embarrassing.” You tried to find a way to pay the premiums; you really did. But you work forty hours a week already and trying to get more shifts, maybe find a new job, do this, do that, appeal, all of that has been futile and draining. “Will you marry me?”

He drops his half-empty cup on the table, forceful enough that some of the coffee spills out. “What?”

Soap’s partially-scandalized shock is not what you hoped for as a reaction. But you suppose you shouldn’t have expected anything better.

The worst part of this conversation is over. It can’t get more nerve-wracking. “Marry me. Like. Get legally married. I could get on military benefits, and my meds would be covered.” He doesn’t swing your way, but surely signing some paper and standing before a judge is, like, not the most terrifying thing Soap has ever done. “And- and I know there’s stuff in it for you, too, like a better apartment or whatever. I can cook. Better than you, that’s for sure.” One of your friends had to teach him how not to burn water.

He just sits there in silence. “Please,” You add on softly. Desperately. This is your last-ditch attempt, your Hail Mary.

At last, Soap’s shoulders slump, and you know, from that alone, that he’s gonna say no. Miracles are rarely performed for ordinary people. “I would if I could, but… I’m sort of already married,” He sighs, then winces, waiting for your inevitable unhappy outburst.

…

You blink a few times, brain furiously recalibrating everything you know. John got married, and he didn’t even invite you? Or tell you? You’re supposed to be his friend. That’s so rude, ouch. You would have even gotten him some expensive shit off his gift registry.

A fucking Keurig, for God’s sake. “What? Who?” You demand, more outraged that he would leave you out of his life than you are over him declining your proposal

Underneath that deep, sunburnt tan, you see Soap blush. “Jeremy from final year.”

You’d throw your empty cup at him, but he’d just duck. “I knew you were fucking him! I knew it! You tried to gaslight me and say you weren’t, but I saw the hickies on his neck!” There were only so many times Johnny ducked out of a math classroom covered in sweat, followed shortly by your classmate, before you put the pieces together.

Oh, but the rest of your friends called you a conspiracy theorist and told you to mind your business. Now, who’s laughing?

Soap holds his hands up in the universal ‘don’t shoot’ sign. “He needed health insurance. We’re married on paper. Haven’t seen him in a few years, but I know he’s doing alright.” Naturally, he’s already selflessly committed marriage fraud. You honestly should’ve seen that coming; that’s why you wanted to propose in the first place and figured you’d have a slim chance of success.

“Shit.” Now you’re back to square one. And it’s a shitty square, with walls that close in around you with every passing second.

The regret in his eyes overflows when he sees your slumped shoulders, how you’re picking at your cuticles hard enough to bleed. “‘M sorry. If I wasn’t locked down, you know that I’d do it for you in a heartbeat.” The worst part is that you know he’s being sincere, not just parroting empty platitudes.

Right. Well. That’s it, then.

You rub at your closed eyes, then at the stress wrinkle between your eyebrows. “Fuck. It’s fine, I know. I will… I’ll figure it out,” You sigh. Less than convincing, but it doesn’t need to be.

There are probably options you just haven’t thought of yet. Or maybe you can work something out with your doctor, where you only get your meds every other month. “I got it covered. Don’t worry about me.” You instantly see Soap rush to shake his head, to tell you that he’s always worried about you. You want to chastise him, tell him that he has plenty of things to be worried about in his own life. “Shush. It’s fine.” But you don’t have the heart to rake him over the coals for it now, so you settle for that.

You should go. You have things to do, things that include crying in your bed with the curtains drawn and urgently refreshing your email to see if anyone's gotten back to you. New jobs, aid organizations for low-income people, any further bad news.

Soap catches your wrist before you can say the appropriate goodbyes and rush out of the cafe. “Look- hold on- let me… let me ask my… friends.” He wrinkles his nose as he says it with an odd, stilted tone. Like ‘friends’ is a replacement for something he can’t say out loud in a civilian setting.

You can put the pieces together. “Is that what you’re calling your coworkers?”

“That’s classified, shut up.” His Scottish accent pops out there stronger than good malt whiskey. Hope is an easily-caught flame and far more difficult to extinguish. When you smile at him, you find it’s not entirely false. “Let me ask around, okay? They’re good guys. You might need to do the heavy lifting with your sparkling personality, but I can try.”

‘Sparkling personality’ is sort of ominous. ‘Don’t give them shit,’ is what he means to say. That’s fine, you’ve worked in customer service before. You can be on your best behavior.

You’re not exactly sure what kind of dude would be willing to marry a stranger, even if that is the kind of dude you want to marry.

But desperate times, desperate measures. “Thank you. Really. It would mean the world and…  would probably save my life.” You didn’t mean to get as choked up at the end as you do. No one else has been willing to help you, though, and Soap’s answering hug feels like desperately needed hope reviving itself in your chest.

“I’ve got you. And I hope I can help in the end, even if it’s not what you originally had in mind.”

-

Soap runs through his team members in his mind as he waits for the gate guard to scan his ID, trying to recall who’s tied down and who isn’t.

Captain’s got a wife, he thinks, and he’s a wee bit too old for you anyway.

It takes a second for the starry-eyed guard to hand him back the card and lift the gate.

You picked a good time to call him up; not only is he in town, menacing the local army base, but so is the rest of the 141—a rarity.

Vargas would certainly charm you, but Soap trusts Alejandro with you about as far as he could throw him.

Out of all the idiots he went to school with, you’re the only idiot who stuck around through the early years of his service, and you pursued your friendship like a hound after a fox even when he couldn’t properly reciprocate.

So John feels some responsibility for looking out for you, as you’ve always looked out for him.

Garrick wouldn’t be a half-bad choice. Dependable, responsible. Friendly, so your sham marriage would at least be enjoyable.

His mind drifts to his own errant mostly-platonic husband as he parks the borrowed car in his numbered space. Jeremy. The last time they spoke was over three years ago? Maybe four. Jeremy had found himself a new boyfriend and called to let him know, asking if Soap wanted a legal divorce. He was moving to some godforsaken corner of America. Florida? Maybe. That place has got too many fuckin’ states for him to remember them all.

They worked it out - they’d stay married, and Jeremy would keep out of his way. No love lost.

Roach could do it for you in a pinch as well. A little quiet, but maybe you’d work out something like him and Jeremy. Staying out of each other’s way.

Soap dismisses Lieutenant Riley without a second thought. On his best day, Ghost is about as inviting and amenable as a particularly hungry great white shark. And even if God himself came down from Heaven and changed Ghost’s heart to be interested, Soap would worry about you.

A lot. Even more than he already does, since the day you sobbed in his arms after school when you were first diagnosed. Since that day he had to help you out of bed because you could neither walk nor miss any more class.

Does he trust Ghost enough to fight alongside him? To have his back when there’s a gun against his head? Absolutely. Does he think Ghost would treat one of his oldest friends properly, befitting of the funny, kind, vibrant person you are? Abso-fuckin’-lutely not.

So that puts Gaz and Roach in his top choices for you and Vargas as a last-tier resort.

Armed forces worldwide, in Scotland and America, are all about efficiency. Eliminating redundancy.

And if that’s the excuse Johnny uses to justify blindsiding his whole team at once, so he doesn’t need to have this conversation three damn times and hear three separate rejections? That’s between him and God.

He herds them like sheep, plucking the Captain from his office, Garrick and Alejandro from conditioning in the gym, disturbing Roach’s book. Ghost appears out of nowhere as if summoned by the disturbance and falls in behind Soap. Not a single damn sound, of course. While that’s useful on deployment, he still has to tamp down on the instinct to jump every time he sees a skull mask hovering out of the corner of his eye in everyday life.

No matter. The lieutenant will likely wander out when the subject matter is revealed. It would raise more red flags if he told Ghost off.

He barely gets Lt. Riley through the pool room door before Captain jumps him. “Sergeant. What’s the trouble?”

That’s fuckin’ rude. “Why’d you assume I’m in trouble?” He indignantly replies. Except… yeah, there was that time he borrowed a humvee he had no permission to touch, and Captain covered for him to Laswell. Shit. “Well, I’m not.” At least, not this time.

Soap opens his mouth to argue this because it’s hardly fair for Cpt. Price to point fingers only to be cut off. “What is it?” At least Price has the decency to file the sharp edges off of his voice this time.

Right. He almost feels guilty getting sidetracked over something so stupid when he’s gathered everyone here for an infinitely more important reason.

Where does he start? How the fuck does he proposition them without sounding absolutely mental? “I… Hear me out.” Instantly, Garrick shakes his head ‘no,’ and Cpt.’s face remains as unmoved as a brick wall. Definitely not how he should have opened. “Wouldn’t be asking if the situation wasn’t desperate.” Soap opens his hands in the vain hope that the gesture will make them listen, at minimum.

You loathed hospitals and doctor’s offices when you first got sick. Now, you see the inside of them so often that it hardly fazes you. Still, Johnny always went along when you asked. So you wouldn’t have to be alone.

The countless memories of holding your hand as some faceless nurse sticks an IV in your elbow is the motivation that steps on the gas. “I have this friend,’ He tells them.

“You have friends?” If Vargas weren’t separated from him by the pool table, he’d reach over and stick an elbow in his side. What is it, official ‘piss off Sgt. MacTavish’ day?

They get in a laugh at his expense. “Shut up, you reprobate.” He puts enough bite in his tone to cut through the ruckus with the keenness of a knife. “I have this friend. Since I was a lad. She’s a good girl, good person. She needs our help.”

Everyone knows what he means by ‘good person,’ and the mere mention of a civilian girl in distress softens Gaz’s scowl and Alejandro’s scorn.

Their Captain nods, now significantly more amenable to this conversation than he was at the beginning. “Help?” Progress is progress, and for the first time, Soap allows himself to think he might be able to persuade someone.

“Yeah, well… you know these fuckin’ Americans. They don’t give a damn if people die like dogs in the streets. She lost her health insurance, and she’s… She’s ill. She’ll be ill for the rest of her life.” That’s something Johnny will never understand about this side of the pond. The NHS was never good, but at least it exists. All that freedom and shit, for what?

“Sorry to hear that. Fucking shame,” Price murmurs. 

“I was wondering if any of you might be interested in marrying her. For the fuckin’... benefits. I dunno know what exactly they are, but she mentioned new living quarters for her soldier.” He really ought to have looked this up beforehand and found some other things to sweeten the pot. “I’m already married. Had to turn the poor lass down, and I told her I’d at least ask you lot.”

Their captain gets up and off his ass like the stool’s on fire. “Alright. MacTavish, I’m leaving the room now. I’m going back to my office, and do not disturb me until you’re done,” He orders, mustache practically fuckin’ bristling with urgency. “I didn’t hear or see a thing.” With his parting words finished, Johnny watches the man book it out of the pool room in double time.

While he understands and appreciates the discretion, was that truly necessary? They’ve all done exponentially worse things than this.

His first choice makes a break for it, too. “Sorry, Soap,” Garrick declines. “I’m out. I’m sure she’s a delightful person, though being friends with you doesn’t speak highly of her life choices. But that’s a big ask, and I just don’t know her.” The sergeant taps him on the shoulder as he walks out in a silent show of support.

“‘Course.” With each man who leaves, his worry increases.

What voicemails will await him after he returns from the next mission? That things went horribly wrong, and you’ll be hospitalized for the rest of your life, or maybe even dead?

Whatever it is, there won’t be anything he can do by then. That’s the worst part.

“Yeah, can’t do it either, Sarge. I got a girl already.” Right. There goes Sanderson.

At least Alejandro has the decency to look genuinely sympathetic. “Let us know if there’s anything else we can do.”

Soap watches him leave and wonders if you’re still awake. It’s not late for him, but who knows? Maybe you keep normal hours now. “Yeah, I will.” You’d prefer to hear the bad news as soon as possible, but he would hate to wake you for it.

But he can’t ignore the ghoul haunting the corner any longer. “What are you still doing here, Lt.? I’ve gotta tell her I can’t help, and I don’t think you’d care to overhear that conversation.” His voice is a little sharper than is nice and proper, overflowing with prickly irritation like too much tea in a cracked cup. Of all the times for Ghost to not mind his fucking business…

“…what she look like?”

“What?”

And Riley’s got the audacity to repeat himself, slower, as if he’s stupid. “What does she look like? Got a picture?”

“Is this a joke?” Simon should stick to shitty quips about goldfish. At least those are tasteful.

The man doesn’t laugh, shake his head, or leave now that he’s successfully rattled Soap. He just stands there, as grave as always. Motherfucker. He means it. “Fuckin’… yeah, hold on,” Soap sighs as he fumbles for his phone.

He’s desperate because you’re desperate. He tells himself that, over and over, as he looks for a half-decent selfie. You’re a big girl, you knew what you were risking when you asked him for help.

Ghost takes his phone in his gloved hand. “Not bad,” He murmurs after a while. “I’ll do it. Marry her.”

A beat passes. Soap lets another one go.

Alright. The grace period is over and done with. “This is a really shitty, serious thing to mess around about. Genuinely. Don’t do that to her or me. This is about her health. Her life.” Johnny likes Lt. Riley. Really, he does. Even under all the freaky mask shit.

But this is mean-spirited. It would almost be out of character. It’s one thing to be careless if his sparring partner walks away with permanent nerve damage. This is fucking cruel if he doesn’t mean it.

Ghost can read minds now. “I mean it.” His chuckle makes Johnny fix his surprised expression into something more stern and imperceptible. “She’s desperate, isn’t she? I’ll do it.” When he walks closer, the changing light makes that skull on his face flash in and out of existence.

“Why?” If he can’t come up with a somewhat satisfactory answer… Soap’s fist can probably reach him fine from here.

And in a rather remarkable show of humanity, he watches Ghost pinch the bridge of his nose through his mask. “Think I like listening to you snore? Or fuckin’ Roach chattering on Discord at four in the morning?” Johnny never knew Ghost was such a little princess about that. Who would’ve thought?

The other man huffs a laugh. “Need my beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, you do, the mask’s not doin’ you any favors,” Soap retorts as if on autopilot. That’s only their longest-running tiff. You’ve got your work cut out for you to deal with that ugly mug, he thinks.

“You want me to help her or what?”

Right. Right. “Sorry.” He examines Ghost’s body language, searching for any hint of dishonesty. “If you so badly want out of the shared bunks, how come you haven’t found someone else yet? Or some other way?”

“You think girls are lining up outside my door proposing marriage? You can’t even find me off duty. Now I ain’t gotta find… some other way,” He says before leaning back against the wall, at ease now that his argument’s been made.

“Fair point.” Fair, but fucking dumb. “I’ll tell her. She’ll say yes, I know she will.” Jesus, does he wish he’d been able to persuade Garrick.

Soap considers exactly how much you should know about your intended before this shit goes down. On the one hand, it might be better for you not to know much, other than that he’s found someone relatively trustworthy and willing. On the other hand… interacting with Lt. Riley is something that should only be done after signing a covenant not to sue.

“Whatever you do, don’t hurt her. She’s been through enough already. And I meant it when I said she’s a good person. Too good for either of us.”

Nobody gets through secondary school untouched. Especially not at that prissy international school you met him at, filled with over-privileged rich kids and army brats scraping the bottom of the barrel. Like the two of you.

When you were fourteen, you picked him up by the scruff of his Scottish neck with a smile on your face, then hit the bastard who hit him first. Thick as thieves ever since.

“And if you can’t find it in you to be nice, just… promise you’ll leave her alone.” At least you’re more than capable of making Ghost’s life a living Hell if he fucks with you. He takes comfort in that and a healthy amount of glee at the possibility of watching that play out. He’s got a front-row seat, after all.

Riley shakes his head. “As long as she ain’t a burden, MacTavish, no need to fuss and cluck.”

For a moment, Soap almost pities him.

“Don’t hurt her. Promise me that, right now,” He stresses. Just in case. At least eliciting this agreement might remind Ghost in the future to stay his hand.

The other man sighs. “I won’t,” He says at last. And Soap can tell he means it.

“Get out. I’ll let her know.”

[yanderes-galore]

Could you do a romantic Naoya Zen'in with a female!sorceror!reader please! Thank you!

Oh he's going to be such an asshole... so I hope you know what you're expecting- I'm on Chapter 143, so some info may be wrong.

Possible JJK Manga Spoilers within this for chapters after where the anime (Season 2) leaves off!

Yandere! Naoya Zenin with Female Sorcerer! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Controlling behavior, Sexism, Condescending/Degrading behavior, Possessive behavior, Attempted forced marriage/courting, Stalking, Violence, Blood, Murder, Toxic masculinity, Threats, Forced relationship.

You just know he's going to be horrible to deal with due to his family's principles.

The Zenin family canonically has sexist views, seeing women as just wives.

This is seen with Maki and Mai in the series, Naoya's language only confirms it.

It's canon that he views women as wives and thinks if they aren't three paces behind a man, they should be stabbed in the back (Actual quote, you wish I was joking.)

So it's safe to say Naoya is going to be hell.

He's such an entitled brat, tone and behavior often dripping in arrogance.

He would refuse to see you as skilled.

Being around Naoya as a female Jujutsu Sorcerer often comes with... comments.

Comments literally no one asked for.

Naoya would be degrading and condescending towards you.

He'd often view you as weak.

You could never measure up to him in a battle.

Like he did with Maki and Mai, he likes to break you down.

But here's the worst part.

Naoya would be the type of person to bully you because he likes you.

He definitely finds himself wanting your attention, so he'll get it in any way he can.

It's so easy to hate him, he doesn't even mind all that much at first.

Naoya would hunt you down just to mess with you.

At first it's just because he finds your goals to be stronger preposterous.

Although... before he even realizes it, he may follow you because he finds you attractive.

He likes that you're strong for a woman and might even see you as good wife material.

Naoya stalks you around, watching you kill Curses before stepping in to essentially steal the glory.

It's like in some twisted way he's trying to impress you.

Naoya treats you like you can't do anything alone.

He acts like he should be the man in your life.

He's so possessive... he thinks he owns you.

If he doesn't, he knows he will at some point.

Naoya is a nuisance to you due to both his beliefs... and the growing attraction he has.

You hate his guts... but Naoya feels he can't live without your attention.

He loves it when you look at him, he loves it when you react to him, he finds it cute when you fight him.

He believes he is leagues above you in power... yet adores you all the same.

Naoya would definitely put you down, then try to pull you into relying on him.

He tells you you're weak on your own... that you need him in your life.

In reality, it's the other way around.

Naoya feels he needs you.

However, Naoya is a prideful man and would never want to admit to that.

Naoya would often claim himself to be your man, be that boyfriend or husband.

In fact, Naoya may just jump straight into husband territory.

He's unwilling to believe you have any other choice.

Hate his guts? Sure... but you'll be married someday in his eyes.

He hates it when you disobey him to make him upset.

You want nothing to do with him, you want to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer without Naoya breathing down your neck.

Naoya is a Sorcerer who quickly turns to violence to get what he wants.

In the manga we see him quickly deciding to kill Megumi and Yuji to become head of the Zenin clan.

Imagine if you had a suitor already? Y'know... one who supports your career?

Naoya won't stand for that.

I can see Naoya stalking you until seeing your lover, only to confront them.

As I said, he feels he's the only man and partner for you.

So Naoya would probably kill them... with no regrets... in front of you.

The blood covering his clothes means nothing to him.

All that matters is making you his.

He's such a hypocrite, telling you to rely on him as if you need him.

You're capable on your own, but it's like he refuses to see that.

He wants you to listen to his every order, to beg to be with him.

In reality he's projecting, wanting to do that to you yet his pride won't let him.

At some point he gives in to the fact he loves you.

He loves you, he needs you, why can't you obey him?

The fact you're a woman who won't listen to him breaks him at times.

Yet he's determined to make you his wife.

It doesn't matter what you think of him...

Naoya is a selfish entitled brat who's used to getting what he wants.

He knows at some point he'll get you.

It doesn't matter how much blood he spills to make it happen... or if he has to break you mentally.

He'll make you his... his perfect little wife... who needs him as much as he needs you.

Naoya could drag you into his arms kicking and screaming, the blood on his clothes staining your skin as he grins down at you.

He doesn't care if he has to drag you to your wedding bound.

Naoya knows he'll have you... that you'll be his and you'll give him strong heirs...

You'll learn your role like every other woman in his clan... forced to stay by his side like the good wife he knows you are.

[puripurin]

Yan! Llama Hybrid x SheepHybrid! Reader

— Recently, on the farm, a bunch of coyotes and wolves started to snag some sheep hybrids into the woods when they would get too close to the fences. It has gotten so bad that they would do it in broad daylight.

The owners decided that they would introduce a new addition to the herd to combat the coyotes. A male Llama named Lumi. All of the sheep were skeptical at first because they all thought that it was a little odd that the new sheep would have such a long neck and a lot bigger in size, but soon enough, they couldn't help but warm up to him.

Lumi, on the other hand, was still in his awkward phase. He'd recently entered into adulthood and was feeling sad and lonely without his parents there to guide him, but it wasn't until he saw your gorgeous curls and your small little tail that wagged in excitement. Just in that moment, he'd decided to be your life-long mate and started the process of courting you.

You did not give a shit about Lumi. You only cared about the coyotes that ate the rest of the flock. You wanted to start making sacrifices to grow your cult of small critters such as squirrels and rabbits.

This was because you heard from a passing by sheep hybrid that was being transported to another farm about how you could obtain everything you wanted if people devoted their lives to you.

However, you didn't expect Lumi to be so dedicated to you that he'd easily deciphered your messages to your devout followers and your weekly gatherings.

As you walked out of the dead of night, with the intention of killing a coyote that night. But it was oddly still, as if it was waiting for something. The trees didn't ruffle against each other, and the cool wind was nowhere to be seen

You stiffened up and silently walked back. If one of the other sheeps found out about this whole cult thing you had going on, you'd be ousted and killed by the coyotes instead.

But, you were immediately thrown down and turned over. Your eyes widened in panic and started to attack the person who held you down silently, only to realize that blood was dripping on your face.

"My love, I've killed one of those tainted and unpure coyotes for your sacrifice. I would hate to see your delicate hands get stained with something unworthy of your desire... but why... Why do you yearn and look at someone else with interest other than me? ... Only I shall be your eyes and ears, my love..."

Random and barely edit post after months of not posting. I was watch yt shorts and i came across a video abt guard llamas w sheeps. Its been on my mind for 3 weeks and i started this 2 weeks ago. I only decided now to finish it.

You can see the point where i went fuck it because i had no idea what to do with the reader's background so i was like "Ooh maybe they want to smash the coyotes... what's close to smashing coyotes... Cult." Cult leader YN it is.

Anyways below is for the rest of people who want to know what happened after that incident.

I feel better about my dog's death, but we weren't able to get him back due to the poor weather and the fact he was last seen in a drain. So there wasn't a proper burial, but I'm happy that we didn't end up with 2 losses. We had them since they were puppies, and its upsetting that the younger one died, but i understand why they had to kill him.

He's a dangerous breed of dog even though he's docile most of them time. He was a cane corso, and my older dog is a rottweiler and pitbull mix. So not the most safest dogs to be around, but what are you gonna do when your country is busy locking up a man for money laundering bcs they shit at their jobs.

Right, if I'm not lazy enough, I'll go back and redo every one of my ocs bcs im on the verge of deleting them all from embarrassment. Then that will hopefully be a small week long event for my tumblr as im not used to those things. But this might take months.

Also, no won't do kinktober, im lazy, and smut isn't my forte. Anyways bye-bye, see yall when my coffin feels too stuffy~

(soz if this is shit as well bcs i didn't do a whole lotta explaining abt Lumi's behavior)

[kataraavatara]

@nerisweek Day 7

I originally wrote this for Day 2, mirrors, but didn’t finish it in time

Again.

Nesta’s feet were bruised. She was out of breath. She was tired and frustrated. She was six years old. Grandmamma stared at her dispassionately, and repeated in her cold voice, Again.

Nesta stood up, pasted on a smile, and danced her routine. Again.

Again.

Sweat dripped down Eris’s forehead and onto the floor where his wooden sword lay. His father had knocked it out of his hands with ease that disgusted him. He could see it in Beron’s eyes. The disappointment.He was out of breath. His ribcage was bruised. He was tired. He was seven years old. Beron raised his sword, kicking Eris’s towards him. Again.

Dancing is to women what swordplay is to men, her mother had told her in a rare moment of sincerity, It makes your body strong and desirable. It will be important when you make your debut. Your suitor can tell you everything about himself without even opening his mouth. Does he have an old injury? Is he sure or unsure in his steps? Does he crowd you or let you take the lead? You have to be able to see it, feel it, and respond to it, molding yourself to his desires and needs. “Oh Mr. So-and-so, I noticed you favored your left foot, whatever happened to the right, if it’s not too impolite?” Listen to him ramble about jumping off a horse and landing the wrong way in his youth and coo your sympathies. And then go in for the kill.”

Swordplay is just a dance, his father told Eris in a rare moment of sincerity, Besides just footwork. It’s not a brute fight between you and an enemy, but an intricate dance between you and a partner. You have to be able to read your opponent, know what they’re going to do next. Do they favor their left side or their right? It’s not just deadly, it’s intimate. You learn them, and then you exploit their weaknesses. Watch what side they favor. If they’re standing unevenly, that could mean an old injury that never healed properly. Exploit it. Go in for the kill.

Eris asked her why she had accepted his proposal in Hewn City. Because this is what I deserved, she had replied, in a way that told Eris she had been just as thoroughly fooled by his mask as everyone else was.

“You certainly don’t deserve Cassian.”

She sighed. “No, I don’t.” Even though their words were in agreement, they meant two different things. Eris shrugged. “Sometimes I do things to punish myself, too.”

The same things made them laugh. He liked to read too. She liked to dance. He indulged her, often. Marriage wasn’t so bad, and Autumn was beautiful.

Lucien hated him. She thought Feyre might hate her, too. More months passed. A shadow left a note in her bedchamber. Feyre is dying, it said, come now.

Even as they crowded around her deathbed, the Inner Circle stared at her the same way they stared at Eris. Mistrust. Anger. Maybe even hatred. Rhysand almost threw her out of the room. But she made a desperate bargain with the Mother, snuffing out the roaring power inside of her like a candle in the wind and Feyre and the baby were saved. She felt oddly dispassionate as Rhysand fell to his knees, sobbing and thanking her. It’s not real. None of this is real. She held the baby and kissed her sister on the forehead. They all looked surprised when she said she had to go back to the Autumn Court. Back home to her husband.

[sp-by-april]

april pls hear my vision. some sort of i literally dont care how you make it work but either omegaverse or like werewolf ALPHA STAN ..... going into rut and desperately needing relief so pathetic needy clingy possessive stan fucking reader over and over and OVERRRR again through several rounds til hes decided reader is filled up enough & packed with his pups...... pls i am FERALLLLL agh

I did omegaverse with some hints of werewolf because idk that sounded fun lol. This is my first Omegaverse fic, please be gentle with me 🙏🏽💙

Alpha!Stan x Omega!F!Reader

[Get a shot with a twist!] [Stan Marsh Master List]

I am a member of the court in King Kyle’s palace. I’m a handmaiden to the latest princess he’s been betrothed to. That means I run into Stan Marshwalker pretty regularly.

We’ve flirted a little, but we were both very busy people with important duties. I also knew something about him that was a closely guarded secret... Stan Marshwalker was a werewolf.

I had just left the Princess’ side and was roaming the halls ensuring nothing needed tending to. Once I confirmed that nothing required my attention, I retired to my bedchamber. I had just removed my corset when I heard the heavy door open and close.

I turned to the door, surprised to see Stan was standing there.

I stepped towards him thinking there was some emergency. His breathing was heavy, almost panting, and his pupils were obviously dilated. 

I grabbed his hand with growing concern, “Is everything okay?”

He glanced away briefly, his hand tightening around mine. 

“You’re in heat,” Stan growled low as he brought my wrist to his nose, “I can smell it on you,”

I tried to pull my wrist from him to no avail. It was something I was trying to hide, and apparently, I’d been unsuccessful. I should have known he’d figure it out, but everything still took me by surprise. I panicked knowing the full moon would rise in just an hour or two.

“I’ve always wanted you,” He pulled me into him, his voice growing thin, “But now I need you,”

He let go of my wrist and grabbed the shoulders of my dress, pushing the garment down past my chest to my waist. He stopped for just a moment, distracted by my breasts, then pushed my dress down past my hips and onto the floor.

“It’s fucking fate,” Stan said as he pushed me onto the bed.

As Stan stood over me, his eyes lasciviously combed over every bit of my naked body and I could see exactly how badly he needed relief as he stroked his throbbing hard-on over his pants. The guy looked huge. The idea of him fucking me was scary… and a little exciting. Very exciting.

“Us… like this,” His breath hitched as he unbuckled his heavy belt before letting it and his sword fall to the floor with a metallic clang, “Full moon. Heat. Rutting. All at once,”

He pulled off his helmet, dropped it and I still wasn’t sure what to do. I was attracted to him, but there were rules. I disliked the notion of some guy bursting into my room and deciding he could do whatever he wanted with me. More than that, I hated the idea that I wasn't in control of my own body's reaction to someone like him.

“Stan… We shouldn’t, it could cause so many problems,” I thought maybe I could reason with him...

As he climbed on top of me and settled between my legs, it was impossible to ignore the wet warmth pooling in the very place he wanted to lay claim to.

He pulled off his tunic and I was the one who was momentarily distracted, I never realized what a good body he had. He unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down to his thighs.

My heart raced, I could hear it pounding in my ears as I stared at his cock. God, it was immaculate. He was so thick and dripping wet with so much precum, I had the urge to lick him clean.

"Please? Please," Stan's voice thinned to a whimper as he stroked himself over me, "I need you,"

I was already wet with slick but seeing him want me so desperately turned me on even more.

“It has to be you,” He whined as he leaned over me, kissing my neck as he rubbed the tip over my slit, coating himself in my desire, “Please...”

He pushed into me, slowly pushing my body to its limits inch by inch as he sank inside.

His body shuddered over mine as he held steady, I think he was trying to let me adjust to his size, but he was so big, there was no real adjusting to it.

Stan’s hips started to shift into me in long, deep strokes and I was whimpering from the start.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” He groaned as his hot breath fell over my ear, “I knew you’d feel amazing,”

He started to pick up the pace, pounding into me harder, faster, harder. I moaned and writhed underneath him as my body tried to get used to this new rhythm.

His hand palmed my breast, rolling his thumb over my nipple. I couldn’t help but mewl. Stan twitched as he listened to me.

“You’re so responsive,” He leaned down and ran his tongue up my neck as he pinched my delicate bud.

A sheepish smile slid over his face, “I couldn’t stop now if I wanted to,”

I realized then that I could feel Stan's knot swelling inside of me.

He groaned as his hand slid over my cheek and his gaze was locked onto his thumb as it brushed over my lips, “You’re tied to me now,”

He locked his mouth onto mine and pushed his tongue into my mouth as his hips rocked in shorter, faster, deeper, harder strokes. As his tongue turned over mine, his dick was expertly massaging that sweet spot inside me and I knew I couldn’t take much more of this.

“Stan…” I tried to beg him to move slower, that I was too close, but he was preoccupied.

“I can’t wait to claim you. To fucking breed you,” He panted over me and his voice grew into a low growl, “I’m gonna keep going until I fill you up with pups,”

Stan leaned down, taking my nipple in his mouth, groaning into my breast. I cried out as his teeth grazed me. When he finally let go, there was a thin line of drool connecting his wet mouth to my breast.

His hips fell out of rhythm as each thrust became more and more urgent. His eyes were half-lidded and there was a look of satisfaction on his slack jaw as he pushed into me with each desperate, needy thrust.

My back arched and my muscles tensed up beyond measure. My nails pressed into his back, and I saw stars as all the pleasure in my body swelled, crested, and completely overtook me. A quivering moan poured from my mouth as the soft, silky walls inside my core closed around him and gripped his cock tight, like a pathetic, needy vice.

Stan's eyes rolled back, and a loud shuddering growl spilled out from deep within him. He bucked up into me with such a force, that I thought he was going to bruise something deep inside of me. He groaned and his hips twitched sporadically as his cock pulsed intensely, pumping me full of hot, sticky spurts.

He panted over me and I pushed on his chest trying to get him to move. He didn’t budge. Instead, his hand dipped between us.

“You’re still gonna be tied to me for a while…” His fingers began to rub my clit in tight little circles.

I writhed and whimpered under his touch and he seemed enamored as he watched my reaction.

“Anyway, it’s like I already I told you…” He groaned as his hips jerked into me, “I’m not gonna be done with you until you’ve been bred for sure,”